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Eric went back to the drawing-room like vue stuuned.
His discovery fairly frightened him. He tried to argue
with himself that it could not pussibly be true; but ihe
eonviction was there, and he could not help it.

She loved him. Her face, her eyes, had to!d him the
truth; her confused words, her passiou of anger and des-
pair, the ghastly face, that seemed to rise like an accus-
ing spirit before him, all told the same truth—she loved
him, and he had nothing to give her in return,

Was hetobiame? While laughter and song, the music
ofhappy voices, floated around hum, he asked himself
that question—‘Was lie to blame?’ He could not re-
member that in auy one single degree, either by look,
word, or action, he had exceeded .the bounds of civility
and politeness. He had never flirted wiih wer, in the
comiuonu acceptation of the word. He had never made the
least pretense of loving her; tuink as he would, he conld
not remember ever having said one word that could ave
misied her. Yet she loved hii; there could be no, doubt
of it. Whatwas he to do? A sweel voice uear bim roused
him from his sad thoughts.

“Bric, what are you thinking of? you look so unhappy,
an Surely you have had uo bad news; you are not

”

 

“No, my darling, Iam only perplexed; more perplexed
than I can tell you.”

You can tell me what about,” she replied; ‘‘and per-
haps I can heip you.”

‘Eric assumed the lofty air that a man generally takes
when he fancies he is cleveriy pacifying a woman.

*It is nothing that you would understand, my dear
Belle. Iam going to ask Sir John Pierrepoiute to sing;
have you ever heard him?’
~ Belle was one of the submissive order; she understood
perfectly well that the question about Sir Jolin was simply
@ ruse to divert her attention, She was obedient enough
to think to herself that Eric did not wish to tell her his
thoughts; therefore she would not tease Lim.

*J shall be much pleased to hear Sir Jolin,’ she replied;
“talso to see your face cleared, and tu see you smile.”

He did smile as he looked at her, so fair, so gentle, so
sweet; then he sighed as lie remembered the proud, beau
tiful face in its anguish of despair.

*‘] thank Heaven, Belle,’’ he said, “that you love me,’?

He tried to put all memory of that scene far from him
just then, but when he stood once more alone in his own
room, he was obliged to look the fact, painful as it might
be, in the face,

What was he to do? He blamed himself that he had
yielded to Beile’s wish, and had kept his engagement se-
eret.

“Tf she had known that I cared for Belle,” he thought,
*4t might have prevented ali this.”

She must know it at once; common hjionor, common
honesty demanded that. He had come to. Neversieig!
purposely to speak to Lord Arncourt about Belle,-aud he
must do it at ouce; he would delay no longer, On the
morrow he would teil iim, and thenall wouid be ended;
yet even as he decided on doing so, there came to him.a
dim sense of the terrible pain she would suffer. Well,
true, there was no help for it; he loved Belle, and it was
most certainly not his fault if Reine had misunderstood
him, There came to him a vague idea that after all there

ht be some truth in Belie’s fureboding. This cioud
had already risen, in some measure obscured his
iness, aud shadowed the brightness of his love.
“He would see Lord-Arncourt, and tell him all; it
would be hard to see Reine’s white face, and know the
grief of that proud heart; butit must be done. He would
gladly have borne the pain for herif he could, but it could
not be,

The morrow rose bright, warm, sweet, and fragrant;
the morning sun fell upon one face, while and worn with

t bitter weeping, as though loug years had passed
over it, and Reine started back with horror as she looked
herself,

“Tf ofe night has changed me so,”’ she thought, ‘‘what
shall I be when a year has passed over my head??? ,

Eric awoke with a sense of pain quite new to him. He
saw Belle in the breakfast-room as he descended the
stairs,

“Belle,” he said, ‘wish me all kinds of good fortune;
Tam ene to speak to Lord Arncourt to-day.”’

Belle’s sweet face grew pale as death.

*T am afraid,’ she said, nor could Eric this time laugh
at her fears.

‘You want to speak to me, Eric,’? said Lord Arnconrt,
later on; “I amat leisure now. Will you come into the
library with me?’?

For onee in his life Eric Chilvers lost his self-possession;
yet what had he to fear? The morniug sun feil bright and
warm; the sunbeams feil slauting on the dark oaken floor
with its rich crimson carpet. Lord Arucourt took his ac-
customed seat, and looking ai his young heir, said:

“What istit, Eric? what do you want?” eke

Bric was playing nervously with a carved ivory paper-
Knife that lay on the table. He looked up suddenly.

*‘My lord,”’ he said, ‘‘you have always been kind to me,
and I do not fear any lack of kindness now.”’

_ Lord Arncourt smiled.

“That sounds as tough youwere going to ask some
favor, Er What isit? You need not fear my refusing
you anything you want.”’

«‘T have falien in love, my lord, and I want you to con-
sent to my marriage.”’ 3

Lord Arncourt’s face brightened as though a sunbeam
had fallen on it,

“That I am sure you will have,’ he replied. ‘I ask no
better gift from Heaven than your love for Reine.”

But Hrie’s dismayed face arrested the words on lis lips.

*‘For Reine!” he cried. “I do'not love Reiue; that is
alla mistake. Itis Belle I love, and wish to marry.”

There was sileace for some minutes. Lord Arncourt
seemed unable to recover from the terrible blow. Then
he spoke gravely and slowly.

*7 can only suppose that I am mistaken,’ hesaid. “I
had an idea that you loved Reine.”

*7 think Miss Arncourt one of the most beautiful and
gifted women in the whole world,” he said; ‘but I have
mever once thought of her in that light. 1 fell in love
with Belle the moment I saw her.’?

*‘And does Miss De St. Lance return your affection?’
asked Lord Arucourt, gravely.

“She does, my lord. I have her permission to ask your
consent to our marriage.’

**You have it,’’ he replied. “I have no possible reason
for refusing it. I do not mind frankly avowing to you,
Eric, that I had other views for you, far different. I will
tell them to you. it was the great wish and desire of my
heart that you should marry Reine.

Eric looked embarrassed; he was at a loss what to say.

“Tt seemed to me,’’? continued Lord Arncourt, ‘the
most sensible and appropriate thing, that my daughter
and my heir should marry, I am disappointed that it is
not so; but of course I liave n0 more to say.”’

{TO BB CONTINUED.]

 

The Right to Dramatize this Story is Reserved by the Author.

THE SCALP-TAKER.

woe Sealp-Taker’’ was commenced in No. 33. Back Nos. can

tained from any News Dealer in the United States |

CHAPTER XLVIII,

®Vhen Colorado Hunter left the gorge, he crept out so still and
erRrefully that he passed unseen among the busy workers at the
er, penetrated the Indian camp, and got to where their
bled horses were feeding. He had little chance to pick for
the best, but took the first that he could secure, and leading him
~ until clear of all the rest, and, as he thought, beyond the hear-
ing of the guard. But the horse he got was only .a fair Indian
pony—nothing like the stock he had been used toriding. The
moment he dared, he took his course by the stars, and lashed the
into its bestspeed. He determined torun it as long as it
could run, and then to make his wayon foot; for he was good
on a tramp, lithe and active, as well as endurinz.

When day dawned he was so far away from the Indian camp
that he feitit safe to haltina patch of artemesia brush and
make a fire, so that his friends could see by the promised smoke-
signal that he had passed the Indians safely, and was on his way
for help. He ate a mouthful or two of his dried meat, took a
sup of water from his bottle, and let the poor pony breathe for a
few seconds, and then he started again.

He found that the pony was_not so fast and enduring as he
would have liked, but he urged him on as fast as he could go,
and by noon believed that he must have got over at least fifty or
mixty miles of his journey.

He saw timber ahead, which he caicuiated grew on the banks
ot one of the forks of the Brazos, or at least he hoped so, for he
would perhaps get achance for another horse from the wild
herds which thronged the watered portions of the country. His
favorite lariat was wound about his waist, and when his pony

ave out he meant to have anotherif he could get sight of a
Ford, as he often had in that section.

And it did notseem asif his pony would last till it got tothe
woods Looking back far away, yet all too near, he saw several
horsemen directly on his trail. He could not tell that they
were Indians, but he felt instinctively that they must be.

He urged his poor pony on by cruel blows, and, as it patiently
ut forth every energy and tried to press on, his heart pitied it,
or he saw that it could keep up its lope but a littie longer.

A look back from time to time told him plainly that . his pur-
suers were gaining, and soon they were near enough for him to
know that they were Indians.

They scattered over the plain tojtake advantage of the ground,
each choosing his own route while he had his eye on his intended
victim, and Hunter counted ten of the red murderers.

“Big odds,” he mattered. ‘Butif I was in the timber I'd risk
’em with wisat Jead I hola in my two revolvers.”

In alittie while the poor pony, groaning, came down toa
walk, and Hunter, knowing it had done its best, left it to crop
the short grass, while he on foot made the best of his way to-
ward the timber, now not over an hour’s run ahead of him.

At first his pursuers gained very fast, but soon he saw that
their horses must be giving out, for he was sure he held his own,
if he did not do even better.

Tuen all at once he saw that they had left their horses also,
and were bounding along on his trail afoot,

Now came a trial indeed of human speedand endurance. He
Saw that the Indians kept together. He would rather they had
come in detail, for then he would haye picked off one after an-
other before they could have reached him with their weapous,
for his army revolvers were good in his hands, every shot, at
one hundred yards, and he did not fear their arrows at that
range.

For at least for or five miles he held his own fairly, and the
timber was now so nearthat he could distinguish the trunks of
the trees, But he had run his best, and he began to feel that he
could not keep up his speed, while he was now sure the Indians
gained.

Oh, bow he longed to see arock, anything where he would have
cover to his back while he faced his foes. But no shelter could
be had until he got to the timber, ana even then it would bea
game of hide and seek.

Poor Hunter began to feel sick at heart. He thought his
chances were very slim if the Indians shewed their usual cour-

He knew he kad no backing, and ten to one in number,
very shame would make them stand up to the work,

Buthe kept up the best gait he could, and when the woods
were not over a quarter of a mile from him he was still beyond
arrow-shot of the red flends, who came whooping and yelling
behind him. But his breath began to fail and his knees to trem-
ble, and he found he conid not get so the woods without he
checked his pursuers and got time to breathe

He halted and drew a revolver, and for # second the Indians
slackened their gait. That second was fatal to the foremost. for
Hanter’s unerring aim sent a ball through his body, and then
the rest, spreading out, began to rush forward again.

ter never moved, but desperately “etermined to kill what

 

re they got to close quartexs, and two more bullets | what you get, and do the work as soon as you can |”

 

 

 

 

went from his revolver, one a fatal shot, the other wounding an
Indian so that he fell. , ‘

At the same instant another Indian leaped high in the air
from a bullet that flewjust over Hunter’s head, and a ringing
shout from the woeds told him that help was at hand when he
most needed, but least expected it. And three more shots came
singing over dis head, an Indian falling at every shot. Seven In-
dians of the ten were down, and the other three had turned to
fly when a horseman dashed out from the woods on a large bay
horse, and riding furiously past Hunter, shot down the three sur-
viving Indians as they ran.

This work done, without dismounting to takea scalp, he wheeled
his horse and rode back to where Colorado Hunter was standing.

The latter saw that his preserverwas a middle-aged man, of
fine form and general appearance, with. large, mild blue eyes,
and long fair hair, falling in curls over his broad shoulders. He
was dressed from head to foot in fringed and beaded buckskin,
and his arms were the revolving Colt’s rife and pistols of the
same make in belt and holsters. A knife nungat his side, and
over his shoulder hung a canteen for drink, anda haversack to
hold provisions. His blankets rolled behind his saddle, anda
poncho rolled. up in front told that he was fully prepared for
camp-life, and for defense as weil as offense. . j

‘Well, stranger, you was pretty sharp run,” said this man,
quietly, and his horse stopped by the side of the ranger.

“T reckon I was, and I may thank you for my life, for though
T should have sickened a good many of them cusses, they’d have
got me by numbers before I could have Iaid ’em all out!”

“T don’t want any thanks for doing as I’d be done by; but how
is it you’re here alone and afoot? By your talk [take you to be
one of Burleson’s rangers, though you're riggedl up as a fea.”?

“Tam, andIhave left a party of nine men anda beautiful
captive, whom I rescued from the Phantom Chief, hemmed in
by a large band of Comanches over on. the Black Gorge at the
head of South Fork of the little Wichica. Istarted tor Fort
Chadbourne for heip, but my pony gave out in this chase, and it
will be a long way to leg it.”’ ,

“You shallhave a horse and a guide to the fort,” said the
stranger. ‘Go to the edge of the woods yonder, and keep down
fora while toastream. There you'll tind acamp of mine. Teil
Walter Becker, a youngster who is as keen asa brier, to mount
you on my spare roan and to guide you to the fort himself. Teil
the rest of my men to follow my trail to the gorge. They’!l over-
take me before I get there. They are but fifteen all told, but
they’ll be a help tiil you can bring more along. Who isthis cap-
tive ??

“Post Oak Bill’s daughter.” :

“T heard lie was dead, and all his family killed.” '

‘“‘Heis dead, and all killed but her. The Phantom Chief saved
her to make her his wife, but she had old Bill’s grit, and now
she is safe and unharmed if the red fiends didn’t recapture her.’

“We'll see to that. Hurry tomy camp; tell them Wilderness
Ned sent you, and they’!!be on the jump before your words are
more than out of your mouth.”
“Thunder! are you he?” cried Hunter,
the Rio Grande, and Old Rocky never tires talking of you,
in the gorge.” E

The stranger smiled and said:

“Hurry up, and don’t forget young Becker; he’ll prove true
and trusty.”

The next moment he was off at full speed.

“Pye heard of pou.on
e’s

CHAPTER XLIX.

The moment night set in Sam mustered his little party, and
seeing Black Cloud afl ready, with the ‘‘White Lily” on his back,
the rest mounted, and the party moved slowly out of the gorge.
The channel of the stream, now dry because they had purposely
shut down the gate of the dam, was their roadway, and as the
torrent had swept it clean they had asmooth path to ride out

on.

Sam halted, just as they got to the mouth of the gorge, to lis-
ten and see it there was any sign of Indians still lurking around,
but nothing could be heard; it was too dark tosee far, though a
dim, hazy starlight made one rider visible to another,

“Rocky, you’re as well posted as_any of us,” saidSam. “You
take the lead, PH ride next, Miss Julia will follow me, and the
rest come in single file.”

“All right,” eried Rocky, and he at once took the lead of the
ine. “Are you ready ?”

“Yes; go ahead.”

The command atonce moved forward. They had gone per-
haps a mile, when the stream turned into one of the low ravines
peculiar to that section, when suddenly the Black Cloud gave a
wild snort and stopped.

At the same instant the whole party seemed to be surrounded
by a horde of yelling Indians on every side, and a volley of ar-
rows whistled Over and among them,

“Back! back tothe gorge! Fight your way back!” shouted
Sam, drawing his revolver and opening fire, at the same instant
that all the rangers went into the same work.

But Jouder than the roar of pistol shots came a scream from
Julia, and Sam thought from her cry that she had got a mortal
hurt. Butina second he heard the scream repeated further
away, and then a wild yellof triumph from an Indian’s throat—a
ery that wrung like the sbriek of a mad panther through the air,

At the same moment every Indian but three, who lay wounded
or dead upon the ground, disappeared, while the rangers, seeing
no foe to resist, satin wonder on their horses, listening to the
thunder, it seemed, of a thousand hoofs galloping off to the west
of north.

“Heavens! Thisis too bad!” groaned Sam. ‘Big Foot has got
that poor gir! again, and what can we do to follow such a band
as that. He has been reintorced, and only drew off to fool us,
coming back here to intercept our retreat. Ha! who comes
there?”

A horseman—a stranger came up ata gallop, halting when he
could have laid his hand on Buckskin Sam’s shoulder.

“A friend! Why have you left the gorge? Have the Indians
all gone?” cried the stranger. 1

“They went, but came back—we’ve just been surrounded by
thems and they have recaptured the girl we had got out of their
hands?”

“What? Skein Big Foot’s cruel power again? Which way did
they go? Quick, if you are men.” :

“North, You can hear them yet!” cried Sam.

“Back to the gorge and tell my men, who come to help you, to
wait with you forme. Back, and wait till I come! Ive seen
Hunter, and helped him on his way!” . .

And away, even as he came, riding like the wind, the stranger
flew, leaving the rangers utterly bewildered. His words had
been spoken like commands, and Sam asked the rangers what
had best be done, ’ ‘

The stranger and the Indians too were out of hearing by this
time. >

“He was surely a friend, and spoke of men of his who followed.
We had better take heed to his words!” said Rocky, ‘I’ve got to

have a little doctoripg too, for I’ve got an arrow in my leg!’

“And Pve got one in my shoulder that burns like a hornet
sting!” said Texas Bill.

“Tt’s a shame to let that man try to rescue the girl alone!” said
Sam, “Pllifoilow him, You oat go to the gorge.

“Nary time without you!” said Old Rocky. ‘Hurt or not hurt,
I stay with you!”

Sam knew that the wounded men must be seen to, andtor that
reason alone he gave up the thought of following the Indians,
mad as it was, and hopeless, and turned his horse toward the

orge.
zi Atthe same moment quite a band of well-armed white men
rode up, hailed, and asked for ‘‘Wilderness Ned.”

CHAPTER L.

On the day after Mr. Jeremiah Slocum had become domicild
at the Moodie House, he surprised Miss Fanny Dean by asking
her, in his slow and solemn way, but very respectfully, if he
might see her alone a moment in her sitting room, for he had a
very important communication to make to her,

Fearless by nature and suspecting no wrong in open day from
a person of such an apparently simple nature, Miss Dean had no
hesitation in telling him to come to the sitting-room, forservants
were always within call,

“This is such a wicked and sinful place, ma’am, that I’m afraid
to keep money by me, and I’ve just had a thousan’ dollars paid
on a cuntract for cattle to make it binding. Wouldn’t you be so
good as to put itaway for metill f go? When I’m at home, my
sister always takes care of my money.”

Fanny, taken by surprise, answered:

“She would do it with pleasure, if he would consider it safe in
her hands.

“Oh, yes, ma’am—I'd feel it safer there than anywhere else. I
don’t trust men much, but you are so like my Sister Euuice, I
can’t help trusting youl”

He counted out ten one hundred dollar bills and put them in
her hands. :

“Let me give you a receipt for the money!” she said.

“Oh, no, miss, don’t think of such athing. Just put it away—
I know it is sate!”’ 5 4

She smiled and went into a bed-room which adjoined the sitting-
room, while he took up a book and pretended to read

But those keen gray eyes of his watched her through the half
open door, and he saw the large trunk and onecf the bronzed
boxes which she took out, unlocked with a key that hungona
bunch in her beJt. She put the money in tiie box, and then
locked both box and trunk.

“Coming from the room, she sat down and wrote a receipt,
which she insisted on his taking

With pretended reluctance the villain took the paper, while a

lan flashed on his mind that he could use it to advantage after

e had carried out tlie plau of robbery, which he meant so to do
as to make it impossible four him to be suspected, _

Little did Fanny Dean dream how she was being imposed upon,
how deep and dark avillain was hidden under the cloak of
hypocrisy in the man who thus appeared to put so much trust in
her.

His object gained, Slocum again thanked the lady and hur-
ried away. He was overjoyed athis prospects of success, and
wanted now toJay the plans to compiete his work. To do this
it was necessary for him to see the two gamblers; therefore, by
acircuitous route not likely to be observed, he gained their
house by the rear yard, through an unoccupied lane that served
as a road to carry in fuel, &c.

They were expecting him, and he was this time taken toa bet-
ter furnished room than before, where a choice lunch, with
wines and iiquors, garnished a table,

“What's the news? Have you got things started?” cried Nat-
chez Bill, as soon as Dunning entered the room.

“Just let me gointo the provender before I taik!? said Dun.
ning. “Iwas never so dry in my life, and I’m as hungry as if I
was a sinner instead of a saint.”

Dunning poured out aglassof brandy, drank that off, cuta
slice of cold venison, put some jelly on it, and ate that, witha
slice of bread and butter, before he degned areply He had the

advantage, and he meant to keep it.

The gamblers were chated at his coolness, put they kept their
tempers; and having taken the edge off his appetite, Dunning
now took his second glass of liquor, and then prepared to satisfy
them. Producing the receipt, he said:

“Look there, gentlemen. Thereisthe sign manual of the
prettiest girl in town, and my thousand dollars are in a bronzed
box in her large trunk, Isaw the money deposited there.”

Natchez Bill looked at the receipt and handed it to Hamilton
for the same purpose,

The latter smiled and put it in his pocket.

“T think I'll keep this myself,’’ he said.

The face of Dave Dunning darkened.

“You’ll please read that paper over,’ he said; “and in so doing
you'll see that nobody can receive that money but Jeremiah
Slocum in person. Either hand that paper back to me, or Vil
tellher I’ve lost the receipt, advertise it, draw the money and
slope, letting you work out your own rascality. That’s me—so
shell out, or I quit.”’

“Quit, and in an hour I'll have a dozen officers on your
track.”

“Natchez Bill, you may threaten me just once too often. I’d
just as quick kill another man as not, and it 1 do, you'll be that
man.”’

Bill involuntarily put his hand toward his breast pocket.

Quicker than thought Dave was in the middle of the floor with
anavy revolver cocked in his hand, covering Bill, and ready to
cover Hamilton too, for he was close to Bill.

“Who is boss here?’’ he cried, with a sarcastic laugh. ‘Move
a hand, either one of you, and it’ll be your last move on earth.”?

“Here, take your paper,” said Hamilton. “I was only fool-
ing.”’

“He wast. Let him put hishand up over his head, while
you take the pistol from his pocket that lie was going to draw
on meif he had been quick enough. Bill—I don’t speak but
once—up With your hands, or I shoot.”

Natchez Bill threw up his hands, and then with reluctance
Hamilton tooka loaded Derringer from the pocket he had
raised his band to and Jaid it on a table out of his reach.

Dave stepped forward and put the weapon in his own pocket,
and also secured Fanny Dean’s receipt, keeping his eye all the
time on the two men.

“Now, gentlemen, since you seem disposed totreat me like a
rascal, lll give you noticeIam done with you. Andif you,
Natchez Bill, offer to show yourself on the street inside of three
hours, I'll putaball through your head That’s as good as
sworn to.”*

“Why, what are you going to do ?” asked Hamilton, in alarin

“Dm going toslope—vamoose the rancli~leave the diggins. If
you two men had treated me half-decent I would have seen you
through. But this Joseph isn’t.quite a dog yet, aud he don’t
swallow old bones!”

“Dave, I didn’t mean anything!” said Natchez Bill, inan hum-
ble tone. “I thought I’d scare you just fer a jittie fun!”

_

 

“T don’t scare worth a cent, dol?” said Dave. ‘I’ve lived too

| long with a halter around my neck to die without kicking,”

“But, Dave, wedo mean business! Come now, one-third of

 

 

paid for the seare you gave me... It may have hurt my growth!”
“Give it to him—give it to him, or next he’ll claim it all and
want pay for our telling him of tie chance!’ said Hamilton, bit-

erly.

. “Agreed!” groaned Bill, for both saw that Dunning had the
game in his own hands.

“Since you seem inclined to be reasonable, gents, if you?ll
promise to keep so, and kick up no more threats, Pll talk sense.
Pye a plan, but I want a couple of ounces of chloroform to carry
it out with. I don’t like to buy it myself, for it might draw sus-
picion on a pious rancher like me!”’ ‘ ,

“T haye a bottle that the doctor left when we were suffering so
much pain!” sai! Hamilton, “You can have that!”
‘Allright. Is there two ounees in it, and is it good ?”

‘Yes, it is a four-ounce bottle nearly full, and good, of course!”
“Then by this time to-morrow night you shall have a sleeping
beauty and her plunder under this roof!”

“Honor bright ? Will you do it witheut our help ?”? asked Bill.
vy hat help would a couple of cripples like you be to me?

oe

Yes.
Til hire a couple ot Greasers to do my lifting, and after Pm done
with them Ill pay them with a foot of cold steel, so theyll keep
my on So long, pards! The next time I come, she will be
with me

“What a cold-blooded, infernal villain!’ said Hamilton, as
Dave went our.

“His peer cannot be found in America! said Natchez Bill.

CHAPTER LI.

So suddenly did the Indians rise when Black Cloud’s wild snort
betrayed danger, that poor Julia literally lost all presence of
mind, and asshe felt somebody leap on the horse behind her,
and snatch the reins from her hand, she screamed in the wildest
terror.

In a second, while she was almost crushed by the arms that
encircled her, the horse, apparently wild with terror, bounded
away in the night, und uttering one more stream of agony, the
poor girl fainted. ‘

How long she was unconscious she could not tell, but when she
came to herself the horse was still bounding madly on, the arms
ot an unseen and silent being encirclec her, but she knew by in-
stinctive fear and repugnance, too, that the fiend who thus clung
to her was none other than Big Foot himself. ‘

She did not dare to speak—her heart was frozen in despair.
But as ber senses came fully back, she was astonished, that: he
was alone; no band appeared to be with or near him, while the
horse dashed on at ils maddest speed. :

Suddedly she heard the sound of galloping hoofs behind them
—it seemed to be only one horse, and it evidently came nearer
and nearer. 3

The rider, who held her so fast, thrashed the sides of Blaék
Cloud with his heels and yelled to increase his speed, and then
the poor girl felt Lhat the one who followed might be a friend try-
ing Lo save her. ‘

“Oh, Heaven help me!”* she murmured.

And then tor the first time she felt the hilt of her knife under
the arm which the Indian‘held close to her side. If she coald
get a hand on that knife she would help to free uerself. How to
moye her hand unperceived by him was the question. A sudden
thought came to her aid. _ Wildly she screamed:

“Help! hetp!”? : :

“Coming! shouted a hoarse voice bebind her, just as the In-
dian raised coth his hands over her mouth.

That motion freed the arms of Julia for a second, and quick as
a flash she reached back, drew the knite, and half-turning, drove
it to the hilt im the, ludian’s side, while she threw her whole
weight on one side to try and dismount him,

With a terrible yell the chief, for it was Big Foot, tried to draw
his own Knife; but his arm was paralyzed by the death-stroke,
and while his life-blood gushed out In a torrent over her, he lost
nis hold on her form and, reeling, fell to tue ground.

Julia had the reins in her hand in a second more, and Black
Cloud, feeling the rein and hearing her voice halted, trembling
and panting, evidently almost worn down.

The next ininute a horseman was by her side, and he cried out
in a tone, which thrilled her very heart—it was so kind, so full
of sympathy, yet so manly.

*“Lady, are you burt ?”’

“No, sir, but Iam very tired and weak, and my poor horse acts
as if he would fall.”

The stranger sprang from his horse, and said -

‘‘Lean on me. I will help you to the ground. Your horse and
mine must rest.”

In a second he lifted her gently to the ground, and then he

id:

said:

“You are covered with blood. Are you sure you are not hurt?”

“Itis the blood of Big Foot, the Phantom Chief. Idrove my
knife to the very hilt in his body!”

The stranger stepped back a few paces, and bent down over a
dark object in the grass. He was busied for a moment and then
he returned. : .

“Young lady,” said he, “there is a trophy which will bring you
five thousand dollars reward from the Governor of Texas. “He
has offered it, and you have done what hundreds of brave men
have tried to do and failed in doing. You. lave killed the Red
Terror of the Border, the chief whom many believed to weara
charmed li:e. I honor your courage, while I wonder that one so
young and slender could do a deed so daring.”

“Sir, lam Post Oak Bill’s daughter !”’

“IT know it, lady. Your father was a friend to me once in my
direst need, and [have never forgotten it. When I heard that
his daughter was again a captive in savage hands, I swore to
save, or die with you! But day is breaking, and we must look
to ourselves. I must get the arms and chief’s plume, as wellas
the scaip of the dead chief, to use as proof of his death, for your

e. My oath, with these, will get yeu Lhe reward.”

“Alas, willlever reach the settlements? ‘Three times I have
tried it and failed.”

‘You will not fail now. I have brave and faithful followers
who are, before this time, with your friends in the Black Gorge.
And soon others still will rushing over the plains to support
Lanne We'll get out of this scrape, young lady—I feel sure of
it

How that man’s cheerful voice thrilled Julia’s heart.
like muste to a sinking soul. i

He went back and took the dead chief's head circlet and plume
of eagle feathers, his blanket worked with his totem,and the cu-
riously-beaded hunting-shirt, through which the keen knife had
pierced on its way to his heart; his knife, gun, and powder-horn
were also taken,

By this time it was bread day, and Juliasaw, for the first time,
how the man looked who had been her deliverer, for ie nad fol-
lowed the chief so fast that he drove him far frouy uis people,
and his close approach enabled her to striké the fatal biow.

Shesaw.aman whose Jarge blue eyes seemed to look right
through her, yet they were kind and gentle. His features,
weather-bronzed, were regular and pleasing, his form erect and
well proportioned, and his dark-brown hair shone like silk in the
light of the rising sun, His face, thohgh not handsome, was in-
telligent, and spoke a character fuil of courage, resolution and

ma. je oka

He was looking over the trophies of the dead chief, while she
thus examined his face and form; but suddenly looking up, his

eyes met hers, and she blushed and trembled.

“Surely you do not fear me?” ke said, ina low, troubled tone.

“Oh, no. You who are so brave, and good, andkind! Ido
— tear you. I willtrust everything to you!” she crieu, earn-
estly. ;

‘Thank you; your trust shall be more sacred than my life. But
do you not think your horse can carry you a little ways now? I
want toreach that hill, and see if I can discover any Indians on
our trail. I think it is lost, for the old chief took the lead through
water to throw me off his track; but I halted to listen, and got
on it after he lett the water. Can you ride as far as the hill?”

He pointed toa small pointed knoll not more than a hundred
feet above the plain, a mile or so from them,

“Oh, yes. Black Cloud is cropping grass by the side of your
borse as if they were mates.”

“They have been together before,” said the stranger, whis-
ting to his horse, which came trotting up, Black Cloud follow-
Ing -

In another minute the stranger lifted her to the saddle.
“You say you knew my father,” said Julia, ‘but you have not
told me your name.”’ ‘

“fhe name he knew me by is that by which I am best and
widest known. It is ‘Wilderness Ned.’ Go tothe banks of the
Rio Grande and breathe it among a group of Mexicans, and
theyll start for the other side ina hurry. Butmy real name is
Edward Herman, and in a far-off city there are those who are
not ashamed of me or the name.”

“A wife or children?” Julia asked, and she knew her voice
trembled when she spoke.

“No; a good father and mother, and a sweet sister, who mourn
only because my love of advénture leads me to rough it amid
the perils of the wilderness, rather than to stay and enjoy the
comforts of a luxurious home.”

Jahasighed, It wasasighof relief. Shecould not for the
world tell why, but she was glad he was not married.

By this time they had reached the foot of the knoll, where,
halt hidden in a’ clump of willows, was a cool spring of pure,
sweet water.

“T will leave you and the horses here,” said Wilderness Ned.
“Itis best tormeto creep up there carefully, lest Ishould be
seen by some roving redskin or some outlying party,”

Julia sprang from her horse, while he, leaving his animal by
the water, hurried up the hill, crouching low as he went aloug.

As soon as he was gone, Julia hurried to bathe her hands and
face, and toremove such stains assiie could from her dress.
Then she combed out her long brown tresses, and tried to make
her toilet as complete as she could, And this was more thanslie
ae done hetore since she was first captured by the Comanche
chief.

Wilderness Ned soon came back, and he seemed hoth surprised
and pleased at the improvement in her looks.

*Pue Indians,” he said, “seem to have lost all trail and trace
of their chief, and appear determined to gc back toward the
Black Gorge. There must be four five or hundred in all,
and we cannot move tojoin our {friends there while the reds are:
between us and them, think we had better rest and recruit our
horses here until night, or at least until there is no danger of
their seeing us, and then make a course for Fort Chadbourne,
where the Lg a who have come to save you will come with the
troops when the Indians are used up. What do you think of it?”

“Itit is your choice, Iam couterted. You are brave and wise;
Iam but a weak ee

Wilaerness Ned laughed ajoud.

“Weak!l? he cried. “When your hand could cleave the heart
o{tie greatest warchtef on the plains, But I thank you for
the compliment paid to my judgment. After these reds get far
enough away, we will have something to eat. There are two or
three herds of antelope close by, but I dare not risk the sound of
a shot just now.”

“Tam not hungry,” said Julia.

“Then I'll leave you fora little while. [ll goupto my post
and see how things look away to the south.”

“What a noble man!” sighed Julia to herself, as he burried
pray I could listen to his veice and look into his blue eyes
orever.

It was

[T0 BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. }
_ OO Ft
The Ladies’ Work-Bex.

“Well-Wisher, or Mrs. H. 8. C.’—The combination suits are by
no means out of style, soyou can use the brown for askirt, and
make an overdress of the black. By goring the four widths and
using the gores your skirt will be sufficiently wide, and you can
trim it with ruffles made of the extra widths. Select from the
catalogue a pretty polonaise, and cut the garment out of your
black fabric. No matter if you do have to piece it some; trim
with side-plaiting. Yes, sashes are worn: they are usually about
an eighth of a yard wide, and made of the dress fabric, and are
arranged in ioops an@ ends. Fora little one, aged two-and-a-
half, we like the sacque or gabrielledresses. They can be plain,
or trimmed according to fancy. You will find a number of pretty
patterns for little girls in the catalogue already sent. Your pique
is not out of style; dresses with untrimmed skirts are now worn.
You can get the Italian Valenciennes lace from half aninch to
an inch wide for from 75 cents to $1.50 a piece of ten yards. The
real is much imore expensive, costing from $3 to $6 a piece for
narrow lace, You are indeed euerzetic. Some ladies find the
care of a child quite as much as they can accomplish; that,
combined with household duties and school teaching, must keep
you very busy.

“Mrs. Jones.”—For $2.75 we can send you a very nice pair of
Globe corsets with the serpentine corset-clasps, and for $3 the
corsets will be neatly embroidered, The rubber sponge for clean-
ing gloves costs 25 cents a cake, and is very useful. The rubeer
drawers for infants cost the same as last year. They are $1.25
for the best. The gardening gloves are $1.50 and $1.75. . House-
keepers rr need them.

“Mrs. W. C. Burch.”—The first pants for little boys are usually
made short, They are called knee-pants. These may be banded,
buttoned, or short and plain, From seven to fifteen, boy’s
should wear the long pants. A good pattern for those ages is
No, 4,032, price 26 cts They are made like gentlemen’s pants,
and are meant to be worn with suspenders. The legs have the
usual seains, and are formed at the instep with a slight spring of
moderaie width. Pockets are inserted at the sides, aud the waist-
band finishing the top has buttons tacked upon it for suspenders.
Avy material may be used for these pants, such as linen for Sum-
mer wear, or woolen for cold weather. A pretty suit fora boy
of five years of age is No. 3,760, price 20 cts. The jacket and vest
differ siightly from. those worn by older boys, bu: the mature
iook is dissipated by the short full skirt reaching to the knees.
fhe coat rounds away from each side of the neck, where it is

 

 

fastened by a tag triangular tab, almost concealed by the deep-
pointed collar The bottom of the back is ornameéntally curved,

and like ail the edge is bound with braid. Pocket laps ornament

“One-half is my price now!”? said Dave, coolly. “I must be | the skirt of the back, anda lap is also at the bottom of each

‘beautifully fine for $1.25.

‘materials mu

x

(Port Sandwich, N. Y.) as Deacon Wi

«84 THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. teo~

 

front. The coat is also trimmed with braid. The vest is bound,
and has a row of braid about itsfedges, and the sleeves are finished
to correspond with thelaps, The skirt has a plain front gore, with
its trimming of braid and buttons, which overlaps the rest of the

skirt, which is laidin backward turning plaits ateach side, and

has a hem simulated with braid, as well as a binding of the same.
On the front gore is arranged a tiny pocket, which is highly val-
ued for holding boyish treasures, It has a lap to cover the open-
ening, the front being held down by a button and loop.

‘‘Joesie the Bride,”—White silk is always handsome and appro-
priate for a wedding-dress, and in your case willbe becoming;
but if you like better you can wear any delicate color, such as
pearl, flesh-tint, pale blue, or silver gray. If you do not desire
80 expensive a dress you can select organdie muslin, or you may
marry in a traveling costume of poplin, raw silk, or pongee.
Yes, you should have as many groomsmen as bride-mails; one or
two of each wi!l be quite euough. The bride shouid go to churel
with her parents or those who are to stand in their place. The
bridegroom should precede the bride so he can hand her from
thecarriage. The bridegroom always sends a carriage at his ex-
pense jor the officiating clergyman and his family, but the pa-
rents and groomsmen furnish their own conveyances. When ar-
rived at the vestibule of the church, the last bride-maid anu
groomsman walk in first, the others following in the order in
which they stand at the altar. The father walks next with the
bride, and the groom rollows with the bride’s mother upon his
arm, and at the altar the father and mother step back, and the
bride takes the groom’s left arm, In many cases, however, the
bride and groom walk arm-in-arm behind the first bride-maid
and groomsman, and the former turns to the left, the latterto
the right, and leave a space directly in front of the minister for
the groom and bride. The near relatives of both parties follow
the bride and groom closely, and form a circle around the altar,
or else come mto church, in advance of the bridal processioa,
and sitin the pews in the body of the church reserved tor their
use, Serve your supper at ten o’clock. If you are going to make
a Wedding tour start the first train after the marriage. Let your
iriends know when you reach home, sothat they can make the
usual wedding calls upon you.

“Sydney.”—The shoulder braces come at different prices, from
$4 to $10. We would get a pair for you with pleasure.
“Lelia.—The fall patterns are now in preparation, and you can
get a catalogue of illustrations at any time you will send name
and address in full, and six cents. .

“Celia Davis.””—We can get yuu a chart to cost $1, and another
for $5. They are both desirable, but of course the $5 chart is the
best for your purpose, and will aid you materially in dress cutting
and fitting. The sample of alpaca you send is worth about 80
cents a yard here. You can get very pretty for $1 a yard, and
The best qualities to wear well, and
‘retain the luster, are those ranging from 75 cents to $1 per yard. |
The cheaper grades of alpaca grow kpaty soon, while the very fine
tears easily, and rubs out very soon, The Beaver Brand Mohair
you wil! find wears well, and looks like’ silk as long as a piece
lasts. The Turkish brilhantine, sable brand, is rather heavier,
and is more ae kinks for winter wear, but you will find either

ch handsomer than the sample you send for less

price,

“Sadie Inez.’—We have never heard of sucha place,

“Rena.’’—A neat, plain basque is No. 4,033; price 30 cents, and
it will be just what youreqnire. This is elegantly fitted to the
form, and lias the skirt rounded over the hips and in front, but at
the back it falls in three deep points, cuffs with reversed cor-
ners, and Collar to match; trim coat sleeves, and neck of the
dress. Trim with material, put on in plaits, folds or ruffies, or
with fringe, or lace, witi) such headings as may be desirable.
Polonaises are still ijashionable, and will be quite as much worn
in suits tor winter as the basques and overskirts,

“Lingerie.”—The latest linen collars are either of the wide
Byron style, with the corners flattened down, or inclining to an
obtuse point in front; have the corners to cur! over. With these
collars all sorts of neckties are worn., The most.attractive for
the warm weather are of batiste, either bleached or ecru, fin-
ished with a stouter muterial forming the points at the ends,
enriched with fine French embroidery, Other ties are in guipure
patterns, in all colors, while the white ties are of the most sheer
muslin, trimmed with thread or. Valenciennes lace.

“Mrs. M, A. Green:’—The overskirt No. 4,035, price 30 cts., is a
decided novelty. The front is formed of a single gore, and is
long and narrow, and jis crossed at intervals with bound ruffles
of the material. ‘Iwo wide side pieces form the remainder of
the garment, and each piece being gathered on its front edge;
overlaps the front with a ‘bouna rufile. They are! joined at the
back for a short distance below the shirrings. The draping is
the result of clusters of shirrings, one at each side and oneat
each back edge. This arrangement produces the lengthwise
puffs, now the newest method of skirt looping. Strips of jean
Stay the shirrings, and to those at the sides are sewed the tapes,
drawing the fullness to the back. The bottom and back edge are
trimmed with a single ruffle, and a full sash completes the gar-
ment. A very stylish overskirt to wear over a silk skirt may be
made of grenadine and trimmed with plaitings stitched onto
form their own headings. This overskirt may be used with al-
most any style of basque, but will be very pretty with basque No.
4,033, price 30 cts., which we Can furpisl) in sizes ror ladies meas-
uring from twenty-eight to forty-six inches, bust ineasure.

—_—_—__>0~+—_____.
Pleasant Paragraphs.

Comfort and Misery.

SoME CoMFORT.—A jentleman mit a big boot, a plack dark
visker, a greasy head, a dirty red shirt, und a clean-vhite shiny
paper coilar, a-sittin off comfortably in der werry tront seat df
der top shtory ot der theater, bout half a hour pefore der curtain
melte up. Von of his bockets vas bustin out mit beanuts und red
abbles, und anoder vas habby mit a new-fresh baper of dobacco.
Also, in anoéer leetle bocket vas a couple of stamps left so he kin
snneak out between der skenerys fora quiet bitters to gif him
fresh abbytite to got abbreciations mit eferyding.

Dhere he sits,in berfect gomfort, dinking bleasantly of der
oxciting scenes soon to habben vhen der big curtain roils avay
mit itself. { tse

He dinks of der bleasantful songs, und dances; of der funny
man und his. funny mout; of der putiful ladies mit long trails
round dheir feet—but none round dheir shoulder-pones!

He also dinks of der putiful young ladies mit not no trails
neider round dheir shoulder-pones, nor round dheir feets too pe-

pefore. He dinks of der entirely sweet young lady putitully dressed
oud in her long vafy hair, vat climbs der drapeze up mit a young
man, und fools mit him dhere, und affectionately svings him
loose by ter biggest toe.

He dinks how sveet she looks vhen she shlides shlow down der
rope heels-oter-head-first to abbrobriate shlidin moosic. He dinks
of der play; of der nice young feller named Sharlie who lofes
der nice young vooman Soozy. How Soozy and Sharlie agrees
wit von each oder awful goot, until:der uckly old fader und his
cane kicks der house out of Sharlie “to noisy moosic, after vich
poor Soozy has to vent gonsumptive und die deadt at der back of
der stage, vhile moonlight is gettin boured on her, und der con-
ductor tells his orchestra to blay affectful moosic uf dhey biease.

He dinks of all dis und is gontented. He cares nodding bout
der gondition of der Nord-east Bole; he bodders his head not
vonce bout der solution of dewskocial question; he dinks not von
bit bout all dot kind of bizness. He *yoost bites his abbles und
-beanuts in beace, und gits himselt up, until der curtain jumps,
to der bleasures of der imachination, efen dough he don’t know
vat dot means too.

SemME MISERY.—A leetle poy shtandin outside of der theater,
yoost bout time vhen der excitements vas goin to begun inside,
mit oxactly Nineteen cents too short to took him in. He shtands
dhere in der cold vedder, mit his heart werry tight, und his nose
werry loose. Der aggravations vas come, vhen he saws some
luckytul friend valkin solifely, py reason of der requisite
dwenty-five bennies.

In wain he brays fora ‘‘check” from der fellers vat’s already
shkibbin out und skirmishin for winegar bidders. He reads der
bill-brogrammes outside mit all his strength—much goot deal
more industryfull as he reads his shpell pook und his geojock-
raphy. He gazes mit increasing oxcitement-.at der putiful out-
side paintings on der vall, rebresenting a house on flames mita
logomotif car sinkin drooa pridge yoost after a vyooman vas
resqued more alife as dead after bein glued down to (er drack by
der willian who kin been seen in der oder corner a get-
ting plowed out to bieces py a coal mine, vhile der shkouts
am. killin up Indians goot in der pack of der foregroundt,
vhile a Dutchman is asayin funny dings in der corner to
der grate amoosement of der brate hero whio’s busyful en-
aged in schvallerin up a vaterfail so it vill bin nice und
dry sohis gal kin valk ofer to him und dhus git safed from
der tree vhere she kin bin seen hanging, having bin placed
in dot bosition. by dot reckless band of roppers und cut-your-
dhroats in vide hats, top boots, rewolfers, und sassy faces vat
may bin seen a-goin up dot red mountain, on dop of yich ‘is der
hero’s uople gang of dyappers und so fourd,a hissin revenges,
a-sharpenin dheir bisdols, und loadin dheir knifes, and vaiting
tov dey willains to come up on top vhere dheir noses vill bin shal
loped, dheir prains oxtracted, und be odervise fooled to orichinal
moosic oxbressly gombosed for dis drama, vich has been goby-
ri,lited all ofer, und vich oder brofessionals bedder dook varn-
ing und dont got brosecuted. Post no bilis! Dhere, look oud! *

Der boor poy squints at all dis mit eyes und moud oben loose—
und iaments der apsence of dhose old ninedeen cents vich shuts
oud all dot putiful oxcitements! At last fortune shmiles a vink
on hii, und he vas lucky.

fic sutumbles on a trunk jentleman, who already peginned to
feel kinder sea-sickful in der hot-varm vedder inside, und who
dinked he bedder shkip on der outside in a hurry, so he vood bin

ready brebared in ca « of accidents, vich am werry liable toa
man vats sea-sick doi)».
So Le goes outside tv «gage a goot gutter und a shtrong post,

Dheré der poy goes ior him, und he gots der long-looked for
“sheck.” ‘Out of der efilcomed der goot!? Der sea-sickfulness
of der man bringed heart-joytulness to der poy! (N. B. Not Bad.
Blease remark dot Guese last oxbressions pnt you shtrong in
mind of Wictor Hugo. He resembles my writings, werry!) Vell,
der poy got der sheck, und so quicker as Goldschmid Maid runs
avay mit himself, so quicker as a flash of dhundher kin extonish

ou, dot leetle poy und his sheck dhey’m flied inside mit wisible
oy, und dot poy’s misery vas at an end come, und he now vas
yoost so habby like der oder feller ubstairs vat I first shbeaked
about, who, py dis time, vas got all his beanuts und abbles eated
down, und has already eated out half of his tobacco, und who
mit his face dirty und shmiling, sits dhere enjoyin himself all to
bieces, und vissling dobacco-juices py der baiulful all ofer der
boots und bandyloons of his jofial gombanions in gomfort.

MARK QUENCHER,
A Slighted Poet.

I loved her with the deepest love

My nature ever knew.
I vowed her eyes than heaven above

Were far more deeply blue.
She gave me a bewiiching smile

That bade my panting brain
With metaphor her heart beguile

Of far more lofty strain.

I vowed her nose was ltke a bud
Upon some rose-bushi fair;

That sunset in its golden flood
Compared not with her hair,

I said although the peaches blushed
When rivaled by her cheek,

Their hue, however red they flushed,
Beside ber bloom was weak.

I swore her teeth were far more white
Than any orient pearl.

(I hoped my flattery would delight
That rich and charming girl.)

T called on coral to outvie
Her lips, without a peer.

I said the coral was passed by,
And hailed it with a sneer.

I had some other things on hand
I wanted to throwin,

About her ear, you'll understand,
And some about her chin.

But she did not, it seemed to me,
Appreciate my skill;

Although I spread it thick, you see,
And with a right good will.

The next dance came, her partner came,
They went away to dance.

I thought I heard her ask my name.
I saw her partner’s glance,

“Don’t know,”’ said he, ‘what it may be,
But surely he belongs

To those, it’s clear, who earn their beer
By writing words for songs.”

Non-Resistance.

The following, from a new contributor, illustrates the princi-
ple of non-resistance: ‘‘The other day, at the furnace works here,

i les was stooping down to
nscious of a severe con-
¢ his head violently against the fur-
nace. He recovered himselt, looked round very indignant, and
was swearing mad. There stood the perpetrator of the outrage
before him, ‘Wha: do you mean, sir ?? shouted the irate deacon,
placing his hand on the injured part. ‘Pardon me, sir,’ said the
offender, in « polite tone, ‘I eotld not help it. upon my word.
Your coat was so short, and the occasion so opportune, I could
not have resisted had my grandfather been in your position.’
‘Young man,’ said the deacon, in a mollified tone, ‘the apology
is sufficient. I myself have advocated non-resistant principles

  

examine a new fire-flue, he became ¢
cussion from behind, pitchi

 

    

 

for many years; but I confess that the toe of your boot hag

ides.
Und vhen he dinks of dhese he bites his abbles dwice so quick as |

+ food, chokin.~

 

 

somewhat shaken mein my opinion, and if another like occasion,
in my case, occurs, you had better kick somebody else, in order
to avoid unpleasant consequences.’ He looked as if principle

had fallen in arrears.” ”
Bogus Bites.

We extract the tollowing kernel froma verbose account of a
fishing party whereat Jones got seld: ‘‘Jones quietly seated him-
self at the stern of the boat, and gave no heed to the noisy fel-
lows on deck and down below, who were having a lively time
He threw ever his line hopefully and waited fora bite. The tine
hung down by one of the cabin windows, by which four were en
gaged in the mysteries of euchre. ‘By Jove!’ said one, ‘here’sa
chance for a joke. See who’s fishing up there.’ ‘’Tis Jones,’
Said the one who had looked up the companion way. A hand
was then reached out of the window giving the line a gentle
twitch. Jones responded with a frantic jerk, but, finding nothing
on, tried again, Atter a few minutes another nibble wasfelt, and
another jerk given; and so for an hour poor Jones was harassed
by ineffectual bites, frequently pulling up sixty fathomsof line to
see if his ‘bait was allright.. At last one went to him. ‘Hallo!’
said he; ‘caught any thing, Jones?’ ‘No,’ was the reply; ‘these
cussed nooks aren’t good for anything. If I’d ha? had a géod
hook Id ha? filled the boat by this time.’ A call to take refresh-
ments below interrupted the fishing, and Jones said, when he
‘saw it,? that the bogus bites were full as exciting as the real

ones,
An Attractive Baptismil Suit.
A party of ladies in Louisville, Ky., were recently overheard
enthusiastically discussing a baptism. Oneremarked: ‘'Mamie
Jooked pertectly splendid in a magnificent mauve-colored dress.’
**Mauve-colored?” ejaculated another. “Why, whoever heard
ot any one being baptized in anything save white??? “Ob, well,’
said the other, “white will do well enough for some people, but
Mamie nevygr expects to be baptized’ but once, and’she thought
she would im up something stylish, .I am sure nobody has any
right to complain of such a thing, when it probably will happen
but once in one’s life-time.” ‘
A Discreet Darkey,

An old negro of rather: depraved character attended a meeting
where the preacher rained down the most ent invectives
upon his colored audience, declaring they were one and all doem-
«cd to eternal damnation, and there was no outlet for escape.
The old negro, who was in one of the front seats, grabbed his hat
in the midst of the preacher’s violent Janguage and scooted, ex-
clanning as he went; ‘Dis nigger puts forthe. woods!?

To P. P. CONTRIBUTORS.—The following MSS. are accepted:
‘A Bashful Bride,’ ‘Plundering a Mother-in-Law,’ ‘A Wise Boy,?
‘Naughty Jim,’ ‘Drying a Baby,’ ‘Sheep’s Clothing...2...The fol-
lowing are respectfully declined: ‘Neat Retort,’ ‘Brentas,’
‘Pomp’s Problem,’ ‘A Mishap,’ ‘Afraid of Wetting It,’ ‘Gabriel and
Philopena,’ ‘Slight Difference,” ‘One Price Only,’ “What Do You
Soie,’ ‘Mr, Kunkle.’

——__—_>- e+ __—
Items ot Interest.

ga> The lower animals sometimes caich diseases
from human beings. Ina letter on this subject, Dr. Evans in-
forms the London Lancet of a’ young cat which had taken the
hooping-cough from the children of a medical friend. He also
mentions two cuses of small-poxin dogs, the malady having
been contracted froma family in which it prevailed.

kar Cases of hydrophobia are reported in various
sectious of the country, In Chester county, Pa., recently, a
young blacksmith, named Samuel! Hance, died aiter three days
of great suffering. He was bitten tiiree years ago, and had ak
most forgotten the circumstance when seized. with the violent
convulsions which resulted, finally, in death. One peculiarity of
his case was dis being so strongly influenced by apparently triv-
ial causes; a fly lighting npon him would cause a spasm. as
quickly as the sight of water.

ka@- A lad, named Haines, only thirteen years of
age, committed suicide in» Boston a short time since. He had
previously stolen his mother’s gold. watch, her bank book, and
$80 in money, with which he purchased a boat. He wrote a note,
contessing his crime, and his sister and asriend who had been
in search of him, were about to lay their hands on him, when he
oka a revolver from his pocket, and shot’ himself through the
nead. :

ka A young girlhad a narrow escape from be-
ing strangted to death by a black snake, in Pike county, Pa. She
had been picking whortleberries, and sat duwn on a log to eat
her luncheon, when the-suake sprang about her neck and began
choking her. She was at first almost paralyzed with fear, but
realizing that she must extricate herself frou: the folds of the
monster or perish, she caught it by the neck and choked it till it
relaxed its hold and fell to the ground. She then succeededin
oe it, and dragged ithome, It measured six feet and eleven
inches. :

sar A railroad conductor, named Trump, was
lately married tu Miss Maggie Kapp of Northumberiand, Pa., in
avery novel manner. The young lady’s father was not friendly
to Mr, Trump, and so he—Trump—sct his wits to work to marry
Miss Kapp in despite of the parental opposition. So he arranged
with the lady to meet him.on a train of cars im charge of a broth-
er conductor, and when his own train arrived at a certain point,
he leapt trom it and jumped on the one that Gontained a small
party with a minister in their midst. , The koot was soon tied,
and Mr. and Mrs, Trump were kept busy for a while receiving the
congratulations of all on the train who knew the facts of the
case,

ka The remains of three ex-Presidents rest in
Tenuessee—A ndrew Jackson, James K, Polk, and Andrew John-
son. Five—Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, and Tyler—
repose in Virginia. Two—John Adams and Jolin Quincy Adams
—in Massachusetts. Two—Van Buren and Fillmore—in New
York; William Henry Harrison, in Ohio; Zachary Taylor, in
Kentucky; Pierce, in New Hampshire; Buchanao, in Pennsyl-
vania, and Abraham Lincoln in Illinois.

at
RECENT PUBLICATIONS.

GLEANINGS FOR THE CURIOUS FROM)THE HARVEST-FIELDS OF
LITERATURE. By C. C, Bombaugh, A.M., M.D. Published by
subscription only, by A. D. Worthington & Co:; Hartford, Conn.
The curious will take great delightin perusing this work, which
the compiler has taken great pains to render attractive, having
been encouraged to do so by the favor’ with whieh an earlier
edition of gleanings wasreceived. For variety we know of no
other compilation that can compare with it, and in saying this
we pay only a deserved compliment to the author, as the entire
work bears tesiimony to his great familiarity with ail that is
unique and curious in ancient as well as in modern literature,
As he says, it contains selections for the child as well as extracts
for the philosopher. Ina word, it) furnishes entertainment for
all ages, sexes and conditions, For instance, we are given the
yarious versions of the Lord’s Prayer, in prose and verse, pas-
sages of ecclesiastic wit, humor, and eloquence, blunders or slips
of the press, literary sells, origin of things familiar, churchyard
literature, odd titles of old books, historical memoranda, and
other very interesting things, which our limited space will not
permit usto name, Asa book of reference it will be found of
great value, throwing light upon subjects of Importance to every
reader, particularly the student of history, who will find in the
“historical memoranda” much to interest, if not to instruct him.
The style in which this work has been presented to the public,
also entitles it to high praise, the paper, typography, binding, etc.,
all being elegant. Itis embelished with a fine steel-plate portrait
of the author, and the title-page engraving, by Charles Speigie,
refiects, both in design aud execution, great credit on that taste-
ful and skillfulartist. Worthington & Co,, although young, are
among our most enterprising publishers, and their imprint on a
work is sufficient to stamp it as-of sterling merit.

HOLDEN’S Book On Birps, By Charles F. Holden. New York
Bird-Store, Publishers, Boston, This is a work that has long
been wanted. It tells you how to keep a bird in health and song;
if sick, how to cure him; if wild, how totame him. In fact, it
tells you about everything necessary to know on the subject of
birds. It makes its bow to the public in an attractive form, and
is finely illustrated. It is forsale by all book and newsdealers.
Price only 25 cents.

 

aS

mn

Scovill’s Blood and Liver Syrup.—Scrofula,
Rheumatism, Pimpies, Gout, and Kidney Disorders, and all dis-
tempers which affect the external portions of the body indicate
an unclean condition of the venous fluid. SCOVILL’s BLOOD AND
LIVER SyRuP nay be relied upon as a swift and certain remedy.
The concentrated extracts of Sarsap arilla, Stillingia, and other
invaluable antiseptic and alterative plants and herbs torm the
basis of this powerful remedy. Price $i per bottle.

 

Edey's Carbolic Troches,—Among the various
remedies for coughs, none enjoy a higher reputation than EpEy’s
CARBOLIC TROCHES. This fact places them above the ordinary
list ot medicinal preparations. For Coughs, Colds, Asthma, and
as a disinfectant and preventive against eran diseases they
are aspecific. Invaluable to Singers and public speakers. Sold
everywhere. Price 25 cents per box,

The Great American Consumption Remedy.
Dr. WM. HALL’S BALSAM FOR THE LUNGS cures the worst cases
of Coughs, Colds, and all the diseases ot, the Lungs, Throat and
Chest. For Whooping Cough and Croup it is a certain specific.
The most obstinate cases surely yield to Halls Balsam, when
used perseveringly. Stauds at the head ofall cough preparations.
Soldeverywhere. Price $1 per bottle.

Dr. Mott’s Liver Pills,—It is easy enough to
make apill, but tomake agood pill, aht that’s the difficulty.
There are cheap, harsh, drastic pills, that are of even less value
than a dose of salts.. But a good medicine, like Dr. Morr’s LIVER
PILLS, which penetrates to the seat of disease, is a desideratum
indeed. Will positively cure all diseases of the liver. Sold every-
where. Price 25 cents per box.

 

About Bitters,—At certain periods of life a tonic
ig a necessity; but there is danger in using stimulants that injure
the organs of digestion while giving temporary relief. To obviate
this ana present to the public a tonic free trom Alcoholic poison,
Dr. GREEN’ prepared the OXYGENATED BITTERS, a sure cure for
Dyspepsia and all kindred complaints. Sold everywhere. Price
$1 per bottle. foe eee : i :
Henry’s Carbolic Salve.—This article is so weit
known that it isonly necessary to caution the public against
imitations. Remember that it requires a particular proportion
and a careful admixture of the carbolic acid with other ingre-
dients to produce a salve that may be relied upon, The genuine
only guaranteed, See that it bears the fac-simile signature an@
private proprietary stamp of John F, Henry. Sold everywhere.
Price 25 cents per box,

Townsley’s Toothache Anodyne.—A sure eure.

33-39t
SYMPTOMS OF LIVER COMPLAINT,
AND OF SOME OF THE DISEASES
PRODUCED BY IT.

A sallow or yellow color of skin, or yellowish brown spots on
face and other parts of body; dullness and drowsiness with fre-
quent headache; dizziness, bitter or bad taste in mouth, dryness
of throat, and inte .al heat; palpitation; in many cases a dry
teasing cough, .ih @ sore throat; unsteady appetite, raising
sensation in throat; distress, heaviness, bloated
or full feciing about stomach and sides, pain in sides, back or
breast. .1d about shoulders; colic, pain and soreness through
bowels with heat; constipation alternating with trequent attacks
of diarrhea; piles, flatulence, nervousness, coldness of extremi-
ties; rush of blood to the head, with symptoms of apoplexy,
numbness of limbs, especially at night; cold chills alternating
with hot flashes, kidney and urinary difficulties; dullness, low
spirits, unsociability and gloomy forebodings, Only few of above
symptoms likely to be present at one time. AJ! who use Dr.
Pierce’s Alt. Ext. or Golden Medical Discovery and Pleasant Pur-
gative Pellets for Liver Gomplaint and its complications, are
loud in their praise of them. They are sold by all dealers in
medieines.

GENTS Something New, 4 Novelty Picture Frames
given away to every agent. Address NOVELTY FRAME
00., Schedack Depot, N. Y.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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