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Publication Office.
98 William 81.. New York.

THEflHAMPIONflOACH-IHAKER;

UK,

Job Manley, Apprentice and Proprietor.

A STORY OF A YOUNG MAN FROM THE COUNTRY.

BY CAPT. FREDERICK WHITTAKER.

dreary sough of the wind in the pines, the
damp desolation of everything .i'ound him.
was probably the cause of the iceling; though,
in the light of the forge tire, he did not notice
it so much. I
A inukenu' skv loWered over the village But when work was done and tfhfifillltll)
of Hand Flats, and the wind was howling (lis— shut up, came the hardest  'Ochflcfétxll
mally through the scrub pines that constitute Mackay‘s lite, who‘wlast 1;} .1011  wilére I“;
the prineipal growth of its dreary vicinity. and had no home ex( ( p .‘ io 10“ 1' his “HI
Far away to the south, the distant groan of boarded. As the younginanF  )1 r; da.y
the. surf, oil the eoast, told that a. gale was their. 110 f0”, 0“ “liltl‘tllltt‘uy‘ )119 11:51 13L Tu?"
raging whieh would strew many a wreck on as it .110 would be git lob‘slcPofm‘lw il‘uyi
the long reaches of the saiid—Hpilts, with little isttgintilplg;ltolgictlglitlplbntpfinw  Engmntd’
' ti ' . e. ~rews ol' the an m ) )V vesse. s‘ 13.? t. i _ . v s x )
biiiii'mdi-t,(fitildliofishore, save as tlielsrla washed :lind was used to havmg liVC people round
l‘eir cor was after the storm. ‘ HUI. ‘ ‘ . ‘ I
Ill:l‘thlere wals no trucking or Wood—hauling I ‘IV’latlia‘nI hfiltfli‘tltyél3(1)::(lliltégléla1:32]3:223:08;
going on; for it was the month of l:‘ehruary, I. OS tuft 1 ill}. l, u g l  lift ‘m‘d wh'OS/O only
 ' 2 s ) h-irins to rise in the trees, and ,mltfil 111.0 village 1}) 11%. 1 ‘- t . ‘ ‘ r
 sli‘ii'tlds: “ Santl-li‘latters ” knew that l lilb‘tlllg‘lllslllllg‘ point1 iIOlllll illic1  (£021:
wet Wood will not burn to advantage. Saiid-ltlattcrs was t lat 1e lat ..

n ' v ' * lime.
' ‘ - ' x - ; .- -: )c that mannered fainin in the p , ,. .
H“ only SPOL m a“ Whok lmd“ [I ‘ mother of the house had named hei

' ' " - ' '- ii The
“ ' ' ' , ald.i,\Vis . i  "I
‘Y‘ls Elugm mil-(1&1? I‘llllytllilliv(ilmltlic gillar‘rc l daiwhtcrs “ Aliniry ” and “ 3211 line,” iespcc-
I r ‘ I Y 2 t \‘ 1‘ Y i k ‘h a I.
t m m.“ 0 a Hm ‘ Vi ( 3' ' ‘l' I l tively. The boys were Ahijali, Job and
blacksmith, who was alway s at lwoi \. I IOShlm
‘  ' " H ' -iuit 'ounirm'in .. , . . I ‘ Y
'Mdd‘d) “(m u Povurtm'l '1 '3 i  ‘ ",- 3 'M'ackay. after closng up the fOIge, went
With the look of a strong, intelhgtnt 1 men , I “rm-house andlfound the eve-
ean mechanic, and was the standing \VOINlCIl‘ 1 home  I} ifl‘ei)qrcd in ‘1’” its familiar barrel}
7“ “' i: W l " Vier'inr ninrii ,: . , r . 
0f S‘md I'lldtb, b‘ all“; 'hc mm: d 1 d1 ‘ l :7 fsalt work and cabbage, the rogUIai 12138
passed his spare time in reading. 110 hat ,ncsso . ‘  V ‘nd the rest of the world m
not been there long and it was quite clear to | gt tl11(11?1;ill cy s a ,
. - z 1 , , , i H
any one who saw him that day that he was ham 1 s

[1'] NS 7' N '/'l'} l’.
(‘llAlVI‘lilli I.

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v—~-—f';?;._ ).

EVERY

/

   

“ The first step.”

“ Thank you, but I am doing very well, I
assure you.”

The voice was that of a lady, and the young
man saw the face of a girl of about seventeen,
fresh and beautiful, with the unmistakable
stamp of culture and refinement.

For a moment Mackay was too much aston-
ished to speak, and then he asked Almiry, his
next neighbor:

“ \Vho is that?”

The farmer’s daughter, with the keen per-
ception of her sex, saw that he admired the
stranger, and answered, with a toss of her
head:

“ That? Oh, that’s the newschool-teachcr,
that’s goin’ to try what she kin do with the
boys and gals of Sand Flats. I guess she‘ll
wish she hadn’t come here, before long.”

And, from the gleam of Miss Almiry’s eyes,
it was evident she had none blt‘. the most
cordially bad feelings toward the poor stran-
ger who had, like Mackay, in :th unwary
hour, come to Sand Flats,

Mackay, when he was introduced, after
supper, found the new teacher already scared
at the stories she had hood of the doings in
the school. It had last been opened by a
man who had come with a ratan and the re-
solve to have order. He had teen, driven
out. after a vigorous fight, with both his eyes
hIaCked and a broken arm.

“ \Vho broke his arm?" the young lady in-
quired, with a look that told how the intelli‘
gence affected her. I

Almiry tossed her head as she answered:

“Our Job. there. Oh, he’s jest a terror,
when any one tries to impose on him, he is."

“ Ourilol) ” was at that moment engaged
in masticating a huge mouthful of salt pork,
with a liberal proportion of molasses and cab-
bage, and presented a picture that was by no
means inviting.

A boy of about eighteen, tall and stout for
his age, with a head of rough, unkempt hair,
and the look of a tough customer; Job Man-
ley was the last person whom one would have
picked out for adicro.

As he came in, that night, he cast a glance
at the back of the new teacher’s head; and
then, not being able to see her face, turned
to his meal with a sullen veracity that drew
from his mother the whispered remark that
“ Job looked out of sorts. She didn’t know
what ailed the boy. He must be a-pinin’.”_

If he were, his appetite did not show It:

 

t t' ti (1 He sat down, expecting the usual dull and
no sa is e .

' ' i - ' ' l ‘i 1 v when he heard some one say:
The “drip, drip,” of the ceaseless mm, the listltss meal,

SATURDAY.

 

for Job was noted as the heartiest eater in
the house, though he was as thin as a rail.

\Vhen supper was over, the young lady
teacher, whose name was Cora Beath, was
introduced, as a special favor, it being her
first night in the house, to the mysteries of
the best. parlor, where a fire had been made
in the stove, and where the whole family
gathered, as soon as the dishes had been
washed, to stare at the " new teacher.”

It was on this evening tnat the fate of Job
Manley in after life hung, and to which he
was afterward wont to look back.

 

CHAPTER II.
THE NEW TEACHER.

NATHAN :MACKAY had never taken much
notice of the p00ple of the house in which he
boarded, and had looked on Job, in partic-
ular, as a disagreeable boy, who never had a
civil word for any one, and wore a perpetual
scowl on his face.

On this particularevening, Job looked more
sullen than usual: and the cause came out
when his father said:

“ \Vaal, Job, hyar’s the school-marm, and
hyar’s Mr. Mackay. Tell ’em what ye want.
Spit it right out."

Of course these words brought every one’s
eyes straight on Job, and the boy’s face. in-
stantly became scarlet, at being made the tar-
get for the whole company.

X0 one spoke for a moment, and then Cora
Beath, with the tact of a lady, said, in a jest-
in g tone:

“ You shouldn’t be so blunt, Mr. Manley,
when a lady is in the case. \Vhat is it that
your son wants? I hope it is not to go to
school. I should not feel easy with such a
big, strong fellow among my pupils, unless
I knew he was my friend. it is time he was
at work at something besides reading and
writing. I don’t believe in boys of his age
being at school in the daytime.”

The old farmer faced round on her to ask,
with some suprise:

“\Vhy, where would ye have ’em, marm.”

“At work at a trade in the day, and in
night-school, if they want to learn,” replied
the young lady. “ In these times, Mr. Man—
ley, a young American should be doing what
he can to improve his condition, and there is
no better way to do than to work.”

Copyrighted l893.
By Beadle and Adams.

 

b‘he spoke warmly, being evidenth in carn-
cst, and added: ~

“My father was a smith, and worked at
his trade; but he gave his children an educa-
tion that has enabled us to earn our bread
othgrwise. What is it Job wants to sav to
me.” .

Then she turned on Job, and asked him:

“Is it that you don’t want to go to ,

school?”

Job nodded with a curious look on his face,
the while he kept his eyes riveted on the
countenance of the new teacher. It was the
first time he had dared to look at her, and
the sight seemed to daze him. If the girl
had asked him a question which required
more than a “ yes” or “ no” for an answer,
Job could not have done that for the life of
him; but, with the tact of a woman, she had
appreciated his bashfulncss, and had saved
him all the trouble she could. Cora Beath
had noticed his face and had remarked, when
he came in, that he had the gloomy air of one
who is unhappy. The story that he had bro-
ken the arm of a former teacher of the school
did not astonish her, for the boy looked ea-
pable of anything that was violent and desper-
ate, with the strength to execute his malevo-
lence. But Cora had the qualities of a natu-
ral teacher, and saw in Job the makings of a
man of character, however distorted they
might be from the ignorance in which he had
been brought up.

“I suppose the reason you don’t want to
go to school is that you think you are too hie,
is it not?” she continued. U

Again Job nodded, and his face grew anx-
ious as he waited for the verdict of this
young woman, Who had given him the first
civil words he had heard in his life.

Cora Beath, to his surprise, and the greater
surprise of his father, turned roundpto old
Manley and said, decidedly:

“Mr. Manley, I think your son is right,
and he ought not to be sent to school atkhis
age. He ought to be working at a trade, it
he does not like farming. Is that it, Job?”

Job nodded for the third time, and it seem-
ed to the boy that every one in the room must
hear the beating of his heart, which felt as if
it would choke him, though outwardlv he
was as stolid and sullen as ever. 8

Then Cora pursued:

“What trade do you want to learn, Job?”

Job tried to speak, but could not do it.

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