, W .l r -,A ’9“-~—’. - v BK! Comrorrr, 1893, av BEADLE AND Alums. lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll“ E. F. Beadle. William Adams. Oavm Adams, Vol. I. 2 Yrsusnxna. NEW YORK, APRIL 28, 1883. s.’—— ._‘__.‘_.‘ Approaching the flora-table he cast a buckskin bag upon the queen. and inquired: “ RED RICHARD; THE BRAND of the CRIMSON CROSS. A ROMANCE OP CALIFORNIAN MINING LIFE. BY A LBER'I‘ W. AIKEN, AUTHOR or "OVERLAND Krr,” “TALBOT or cmxanan." “GOLD DAN,” “wrrcnss or NEW YORK,” “ an or THE BATTERY," “RED “mow, THE wounsnos,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER V. THE MASKED moans. “ I WILL brand you as my beeves are branded on the Southern plains 1” De Welcher cried. “With the brand of the crimson cross upon your face you will never be able to conceal your identity, no matter where you may go or ow you may attempt to disguise yourself.” “ Better kill me outright, for if I live I will make you me this deed to your dying day!" Talbot replied, so weak that he could hardly speak, yet deflant and fearless. “ Bah! I laugh at your threats and dare you to do your worst. This moment of triumph at least is mine, and as for the future I am content to let that take care of itself. Executioner, to your work—we foil away timel” The vile rnfflan, who had been bribed by the Californian’s gold to perform this dastardly part, but still had sense of shame enough to dis— guise himself with a mask so that his features could not be seen, hesitated for a moment, and then. with a sneer, cried out: “ You’ll be a beauty arter this!” The hot iron touched the flesh. ered, not with fear, but rage. A loud “ Ah!” came from the crowd, as with almost breathless interest they watched the fearful scene. Then came a sudden interruption. Four men on horseback, who had approached unheeded by all, so riveted were the eyes of the spectators upon the tragedy that was being enacted, ll“; spurs to their horses and with a volley from their flourished revolvers dashed in through the crowd, yelling at the top of their lungs. )ach man were a mask over his features, thus concealing his identity. The Volley was delivered in the most reckless and headless manner. apparently. yet when the results bccame visible it w s plain that each one of the riders had selected his man. Eight shots the strangers fired, two apiece, and at the first discharge, the sherifl’, who by Talbot quiv- this time had come upon the scene, the execu- v tioner, and the two men who had bound Talbot to the tree, went down, stricken by the whist- ling balls; the second series of shots—although they were all so rapidly delivered that the eight sounded like one scattering volley—brought to the ground De Welcher and the three men of the crowd who stood the nearest to the pris- oner. The bystanders, upon witnessing this bloody work, were seized with a sudden anic, and without attempting to contest the fle d with the invaders took to their heels and fled in all di- rections, one thought only in their minds, and that was to at out of the range of the death- dealing revo vers as soon as possible. Three of the horsemen deliberately opened fire upon the fugitives, not troubling themselves to take any particular aim, however, evidently not anxious to damage the fleeing men but only to keep them in motion. The fourth one, a muscular fellow, mounted upon a big roan horse, and whose swarthy hands betrayed his Indian blood, reined in his steed by Talbot’s side, and, with a slash of his keen-edged knife, severed the bonds that bound the prisoner to the tree. Then, by sheer strength, he lifted Talbot from the ground to the saddle, clasping him to his brawn breast with his strong arms. By t is time our hero, overcome by theloss of blood from his wound, and the peril through which he had passed, relapsed into a swoon. The Indian put spurs to his horse and dashed away, followed by the other three, who, as they gallop d onward, proceeded to recharge their pisto 9. Neither Do Welcher nor the sheriff had re- ceived anght bnt s‘ight flesh wounds, and by the time this movement was accomplished both were on their feet again. Great was the rage of the Californian when be perceived what had been done. “A thousand dollars for the recapture of the prisoneri” he cried, “ or the same money to the man who kills him!” “You ’tarnel cowards!" yelled the wounded sheriff, “ w’ot are you a-finning for like a flock of sheep? Thar’s only four in the gang and we’ve men enough hyer for to eat ’em, body and boots!” The panic by this time was about over. The hoof strokes of the steeds 0f the conquerors ring- . 4/ £1 ing out sharply on the air told that they were in full retreat, and so the crowd, flourishing their weapons in the air with many a loud word, came back, full of fight now that their opportu- nity was gone. ‘ I 'here’s that fellow with the rifle—can‘t hc wing one of these scoundrels?" De Welcher cried. But the “boss shot,” anxious to curry favor with the Californian, who was dispcsed to “ par. out ” so well, had been one of the two men who had tied Talbot to the tree, and in payment for that service he had got a revolver ball in his right arm that was certain to put a stop to any target-practice on his part for a month or two. “ No use trying that!” exclaimed the sheriff. “They are too far ofl’. We want bosses—we must organize a party and hunt these rascals to their holes.” “ Ay, ay!" cried a dozen voices, quick to ap- prove of the suggestion. “ A thousand dollars, boys, to the man lucky enou h to either capture or kill this scoundrel, and if any fellow gets hurt in the fight I will rovide for his family, if he’s got any I" De Velcher cried. “ It’s a dutv I owe to society to hunt this bloodthirsty outlaw down, and I‘m oing) to do it if it costs me fifty-thousand dol- ars The speech was received with a round of cheers, for all the gang who had been enlisted by the Californian shouted as in duty bound, and the majority of the inhabitants of the camp who were present followed suit. True, they had always looked upon Talbot as being a pretty good sort of fellow, but since the current of sentiment seemed to be setting so strongly against him they, after the fashion of the world, went with the strongest party. Instant search was made for horses. By this time everybody in the town was on the alert, roused by the noise of the conflict, and great was the wrath of the citizens when it was dis- covered that the animals bestrode by the rescu- ers had been stolen from the stage line stables in the rear of the hotel. As the reader has doubtless surmised, the bold riders were the four stanch pards who had come to hold the font with Talbot when they learned that an attack was to be made upon him. Their delay in reaching the scene of Dick’s punishment was Owing to the fact that it took them some time to secure the horses without alarming the peo le of the hotel. Mud Turtle an Bowers had planned the res- cue. when the discovery was made that Talbot was stunned and not killed. Despera to and determined as were the four, yet they knew they could not hope to rescue their friend from the hands of l is captors unless they could manage to surprise and stampede the cr0wd, and then, when this was done, means of escape must be at hand, for four could not very well fight forty on open ound. Then Bowers, by a bri iant stroke of genius, suggested that if they “borrowed ” the stage- . \ , h" ‘1 1/ ~ ill/,4»... 4/." 4 - - ’6. \' , . ’4}. n .' w, _ M £71,; , , , ,,,,/ a, It... I é’ ’1'! 1"!" I! I ' $1; alt/l, I 7 4 , l , . with Talbot before his captors could recover from their surprise. As we have seen, this programme was carried out to the letter. a Great was the rage of De Welcher and the rest when they discovered that the four best , horses in the camp had been taken, but the Cali- ‘ fornian hurried matters forward so speedily by l [is magnificent promises, that within an hour , twenty picked men were provided with animals , and started upon the trail, while twenty-five ‘ more on foot came on behind. It was De Welcher’s lan to have the horse— men run the fugitives ( own and hold them at bay until the rear-guard could come up. De “'elcher and the sheriff, despite their wounds, rode in the advance, right behind the tracker. “It is only a question of time, boys,” the Call- fornian declared, as they set out. “Talbot is badly hurt; they can’t carry him very far with- out endangering his life; in an hour or so they must stop, and then we will corral them for oodl‘ “That‘s the talk i" cried the sheriff, smarting with the pain of his wound ani eager to get a chance to square accounts. On they rode over the moonlit ground. The Boss Shot, who was the trackcrin the ad- vance, mounted upon a big white mule, his own property, and which he declared could outrun any horse that ever went on shodden hoof, was picking out the trail. If his statement could be believed he was the greatest tracker that ever hit off a trail, and since he had shown that as a rifle-shot he was “ some puni kins,” as he expressed it, his story was creditor . The trail was one that could be easily fol- lowed, for the horsemen bad ridden straight forward up the road, following the course of the river, without apparently making any attempt to hide their track. For a half an hour thepursuers pushed on at a good pace, and tht n they came to a sudden halt. Owing to the na‘urc of the ground the trail diverged south from the river for a mile, and then came to it again and cressed it by a ford. At the ford the track of the fugitives was lost. They had entered the water, but no from s of where they had come out could be dis- covered. It was the old device; they had either gone up or dowu the stream and the water had covered the tracks. Bafilcd at last, the search was given up', but De VVelcher swore as he rode back to the camp that he would never rest until he had sealed Talbot’s doom. CHAPTER VI. naamo THE TIGEn's CLAWS. AND now a year later take we up again the thread of our story. Twelve months have passed by since the events related in our last chapter, and during horses, they could charge into the crowd, scat- ter them with their revolvers, and then be of! that time there have been many changes in the camp of Shasta Bar. One copy, four months, $1.0) TERMS IN ADVANCE. « One copy, one year, . . 3.00 {Two copies, one year, . 5A.) : /‘ ///; /' ' x I / ,// / hat’s your limit, part1, for I reckon I want to come into this hyer ame'f” 8‘ ii u" “'ith the single exce tion of the marvelous escape of Talbot, all of e Welcher’s plans had been carried out to the letter. Allcash and Smith, although clearly having right on their side, were forced out of the min- ing company by De Welcher‘s clever legal ma- ncuvers. What could be done against a man who pos- scssrd a million or two, and a ho did not hesi- tate to use his money to Lay both lawyers and jud cs? - §lCIlSh and Smith had able counsel, but like malny other able men they were venial as we . Through his secret agents the Californian got at thelawyers and bribed them to betray their clients. The judge before whom the case was brought, also had his palm cressed with silver, and so, to tho astonishmeth of everybody who was not in the ring, De Welcher triumphed. But like a wise general who believed in the old proverb which says, “Build a bridge of sil- ver for a flying enemy,” the Californian did not follow up his advantage and push his foes to the wall. On the contrary, he offered to compromise with them, and they, realizing that if they con- tinned the struggle, the lawyers would be the only ones to make any money, accepted the offer and sold their interest in the mine for about a half of what it was worth. De Welcher was prompt to follow up this vic- tory by a series of operations in the stock mar- ket, intending to “ freeze out ” the unfortunates who had been weak enough to invest in the Sharcs of the Old Hat Mining Company, and succeeded so well that in a short time he, at a small figure, had secured all the stock that had bccn put upon the market. He was now the sole owner of the mine, with the exception of the few shares owned by Colo- nel Perkins. These he did not covet because he had suc- ceeded in getting the old man completely under his control, Perkins was steeped in liquor from morning until night, really had relapsed into a. sort of second childhood, and believed De Welcher to be one of the best and noblest of men. Carlotta clung tightly to her father, using all her powers to counteract the Ualifornian‘s wiles, but he laughed when the feeble minded old man told him of the daughter’s expostula- tions. “My dear colonel,” he would reply, “she hasn‘t got over her crazy liking for that scoun- drel of a Talbot, and so her stu iid fears must not be heeded. I am your frien and hers, too, if she will allow me to hold that position. In regard to yourself, I have so arranged matters that all the work is taken off y‘ur shoulders, and yet you receiveahetter income from the mine than you ever did before. As for Car- lotta, I have determined that she shall become my wife, and of her own free will, too. I am not in the least hurry about the matter. I have accomplished more diflicult tasks in my life than bending the will of a thoughtless girl, and in time I feel quite sure she will not only ' . A Great Novelty! “THE TELEGRAPH DETECTIVE!” by a. New Contribu! L‘V 49 {g r—(y-t - -§TEC’_.I{V£91}5?‘ ’ ' :w‘tfi i~~»~$.£" 19 =19 ‘ ,s‘, The camp had flourished wonderfully since With an air of perfect unconcern, Red Rich- souls in Rocky Bar lemained in ignorance of An angry light flashed into the blue eyes. _ l’ll cripple your wrists so that you cannot put the Californian had entered it. He had spent ard em tied the gold-pieces out of the bag onto the truth as wrung so reluctantly from the lips " What @ . ~ .. i i o@ i: . g E .fifl ‘il 2 = =- 2 f g V’ a @ ,,_ __‘ - 93‘ ED) _ .. W ‘J “N. V- k s -" ... . , 1,... ' l . rnr' n ,- Luis man could not be the part Whom the Cali- ALLING HE. race you mcited. I believe you loved me then, He hit his lips tom‘mum , for (1:223? glzef‘igeggbiiidgllirgiytili?”clve 658 f0 i‘ornian so greatly feared, buty for all that, c ' but you loved wealth and luxury more, and he began to fearthat, had gone too, . r—that De elcher plainly revealed his mind in this Welcher took a dislike to him upon the in- a! animus c. smv. when the crash came. you thought only of clear- the brain of his had iVen wayzbeneath Statement Stant‘ he 1 d I hear a voice to night mtg 3723mm t'TIimttsvzsnililingelaithe' b03336 slur. me “13319 bilow' flux-g l3313s 31:10: can" 1:: niiuftf ‘ ' ' h ch an b- “Whoisthis bold chicken t crows so on — , ~ '. v es in nor. a .u \ or-. ' cess on. v c ‘ r , soggy; giggiroenmtgklenmfiolliessiotlid earn him. Ila lyr’he asked, addressing the ex-sheriff, whose mlgcoclgnfifggfieaiflefiéfi‘ ever, and in accom fishing this, you committed mercy in his heart, but he was not bmy to ellid had nionev enough-v-it wasn’t any trouble for business it was to look after all strangers Bweetly calling me. perjury of the blue est sort. I could ban cov» all thus. His deep-laid plans Wei: Mpart 3 him to accumulate wealth, backed as he was by arriving in the camp, he being the chief of Ibow my head and wait ered you with shame and obloquyiibut I still carried out, and heneeded the in o: aI‘Jean such an enormous capital but for this child of police. Outside the pearl-white gate; had a heart, then; I was still under t e accursed before complete success could crows is efforts. a girl to defy his power duuoyed him. and he De Welcher was so firmly convinced that if What is it 0311,!"8 me; ape-1 of (your beauty. and like an idiot. 1 de- His chagrin, if not his surprise, "I relieved had sworn a bitter oath that he would make Talbot was living, he would some day return What ‘Bllcalmg “‘6 destroye my sole weapon. I ruined my whole as an am horvoilce clear and steady, her accept him as her husband if the accoui- for vengeance, that he had instituted in this Despair was“, my hem; future, rather than show you to the world as betra. g as fear nor the grief which plishment of the purpose took all the rest of his little mountain camp a spy system that would I ell: myself alone, you really were; but the deed was hardéy com- woiil seem at mini-a]. life, not have disgraced the City of Paris under the And tear-drops often, start muted before bitterly regretted it, an when Why do on take the trouble to come and one Obstacle on] saw ha in the way—the Em ire, Answering the lips 10,W 1151001- you dared to Visit mo in my cell, where I lay in tell me all tb when varmust know that‘I will d' 'l'k ‘ y led f - th‘ ‘t “ on are too much for me ” burl Tim re- .. When ‘0! a Whlspered 3'31“ waiting for the coming of those who were to denounce you-o-that I Will spare no. pains to 151 eof the girlhe coun, not, 0i a was _ _ , ‘ Oh‘do not mommor cry, t k t I,” 1th to d mu 0 t ti f . 1. I only a l‘oo.ish whim—and that obstacle was plied, with a shake of the head. He must For, am caningthee‘ a _e_ me o my i ng grave, w ars an H a y u 02:: ea or your crimes: m Richard Talbot, have come in since nightfall; the stage arrived For I am calling thee,» wailing in your eyes and upon your tongue— You will er have the chance to do that. Since the night of Injlln Dick’s escape he had on time. just before supper, and he didn’t come 11m h n h, h then I showed you that the scales had at last was the sw1f§ , use. You will not bye to neither been seen nor heard of, and yet the by her, for I was on hand and saw all the pas- “will; fit] sogee‘gahd M. fallen from my eyes, for 800d and 811- F9“ or me. . tongue SWOTG lfly 1335030“ Californian could not bring himself to believe sengers.” I stil'lthgfdsigg Sigh’i_ g I escaped, thanks to a woman whom you it shall n’ever have the chemo to swear away ‘ that his f0. was dead. ll Doesn’t it strike you that there is something Now can I 68,. be gm, would have loftily lauced. at in silent scorn— my life! " He feared that the vengeful man, whom he suspicious about this fellow?” When one beyond the sea Bah! With a hard augh, interrupting himself. You mean to murder me, then? and there had so deeply wronged, was hovering some- “ Wa-al, yes, he looks like a cues that would 15 fondly calling me, Why go on? It is enough that escaped the was not the slightest tremor in her vOice, not Where in the neighborhood of the camp, ready be apt to make trouble if any one attempted to And onebeyond the sea living death you and your father doused—that the faintest shadow of fear on her pale face or to deal him a blow when be least expected it, walk over him,” 18 waiting them 101‘ me? I changed my identity as best I could, and came in. the dark eyes which were riveted upon his And then too the m\stery of Talbot’s rescue “Say the word, boss, and I’ll cut his comb out here where poop e are not too inquismve with in intenSlty that caused a curious sense- had never been‘ sowed, and that was another for him so badly that it will stop his crowing roVided they see a man carries weapons and tion, not altoget er unlike fear, to creep over strange fact. Four desperate fellows, evidently, fora while,” Oregon Dave remarked. . ’ ‘ ooks as thou h be ,l’mew how to use them if him; I . Or else they would never have dared to do the “Go ahead,” replied the Californian; “ we crowded too 0 osely. . u . “ hat was the cause of this sudden and com- : risky deed. haven’t had any fun for some time.” ’ He paused, Wi ing his lips with a handker- plate change? Had she some hidden resource of .; Werem" Wm“ "“ tb°°ampn°w’ ready The black’beardedg‘m grifnedlmdded “'3' Elle." Wb°se€qf°fiifii'f“"t° “'35 wilted watt: X3533": l‘é‘si‘lli‘gtblwih “do” ‘é‘fsl‘i‘i‘éfi’l‘ ‘ v ' . ' ' tl nd descended to t e sa oon. . in mg nos rl s e.W ma . seeme . ' C re n, e on aw . , , togedlgzlgfigrwbletlgggfi ttlllaeteffigywere and so “1%?2hg’tiame all the players had made their i restore the strength which had deserted her in searching glance around thechamber. Nothing , be surrounded himself with a bourgufid, com- bets upon the game, and Bowers proceeded to OR, that moment of cruel repulSion, and the stupe- suspicious met his gaze. Not a sound came to ,, posed of three of the mos" desperate and deter- deal the cards. , _ fled look left her face, though she was still as his ears telling that other than they twain were 1 mined men he could find; his friends they were “ All ready gents? Now I’m going to let ’er Dan Brown 5 Fight for Life. pale as a corpse. awake in the hotel. What could it mean? suppOSed to be, and he never stirred abroad sliver,” Bowers exclaimed. “You red-ha’red -——— “if you believe all this, why have you come The smile had deepened upon the face of the without them; and then, in addition, there feller! you’ll feel kinder sick when you see me BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR, to me now? . woman as he turned to her once. more, and be- ,- were twelve picked men, the police of the gather in that leetle bag of yourn. Oh, AUTHOR OF “SWEET \VInLIAM,” "OLD ’49,” “lNot to kneel at your feet and sigh out my causehe could not understand its meaning, it ,1 camp for the Californian had caused himself blazesl" “ REVOLVER ROB, ’ no, ETC. love, as in those days of old,’ he said, with a. cut him all the deeper, making him mme sav- ~‘ to be ,chosen Alcalde of Shasta Bar, and eight The queen had won—the first winning card ‘ cold laugh. “ I came her? tonight to sip my 3. _ 5 of these men were on the alert both day and out of the box, and Bowers stared at it With an CHAPTER XX. first draught of revenge— M’urder you? Yes—but‘b inches, not all at _., nioht. air of comical dismay. A MIDNIGHT VISIT. ‘On an unarmed, unprotected, helpless wo- once!’ he grated, fiercely. ‘ have sworn that IVith the town so carefully guarded, it really “Say! you hit it, plum-center, fust time, 'MARJEAN OVELluAN sat in hertchamber, that man? 'Ii'uly you are altered! You said well you shall suffer full as much agony as you were I. seemed as if it would be a difiicult matter for didn’t ye, and didn’t half try, neither, I s’pose?” night, little dreaming of the terrible fate winch when. you claimed to have forever lost your the cause of my enduring, and 1 mean to keep any secret foe to strike a dangerous blow at De he remarked. " Open out your plunder and had overtaken her stern parent, though it_may identity as the Kyrle Dando whom I used to my word. Ill cut out your'tongue if I can t 3» “Welcher. let’s see w’ot I owe ye.” be safely said that she alone of all the livmg know !” keep you from betraying me in any other way. am, you made me, Marjean Ovel- your charges in writing. 0r, still better _than some fifty thousand dollars in developing the the tab 9. of Timothy Toplift. _ man! You know what I was in those days; I hat, I will bring back the mad love which I I mine; other capitalists had come in his train, “ Fifty dollars!” Bowers announced. “ Well, She had scarcely stirred limb or muscle since Will tell you what I am now, that you may the know you once felt for me, and then, when you and the tOWn had enjoyed what is popularly pard, that is a very tidy leetle haul. I really Arthur Ovelman locked the door behind him better apprecxate your work. _ are readyto pchure yourself in my favor, quite . known as a “ boom.” reckon that you are in luck to-uight.” and hastened away to meet his dcom. Her “You have heard of the notorious road agent, as readily as you once did to my inJury—the'n ~ The Quiet House had been purchased by De “But that isn’t all,” observed the stranger, head was drooping upon her bosom, her burn- called Captain Slyboots? Well, he and l are I Will lap the cream of my reverge!” Welcher, almost entirely rebuilt. and then 'blos- and he gave the bag to Bowers; “shake out the ing, tearless eyes staring vacantly at_the floor. one and the same. I am a professional robber A low, mocking laugh from the strange wo- somed forth as the “Grand P,.cific Hotel.” bag, my friend; ‘ thus had begins, but worse re— She took no note of the passage of time. The and cut—throat. I make my livmg by stopping man cut him short. The saloon had been fi-“ted up in splendid style, mains behind.’ ” knock at her. door, and the intimation that sup- the mails and confiscatingllhem. By stealing f‘ You are laying your plans far ahead, Cap- and in the rear part of it was a gambling-room, “Shakespeare, by jingo! and you didn’t look per was waiting, were alike unheeded. The cattle and horses when no igber game offers it- taiu Sly_boo‘s——I believe you claimed that hon- equal to anything on the coast. as if you had it in you, either!” exclaimed the hours dragged heavin along, and still she sat self. I have killed my man, not once, but scores orable title?” A man could lose his mou=y amid as luxuri~ dealer, as he shook the bag, while all the b - thus, thinking, thinking, the sad past moving of times, both in open fight, man to man, and “What has got into you?” he demanded, sav- ous surroundings as even San Francisco could standers came closer to the table, their curiosi y in detail before her heated brain in unvaryiiig from an ambush, li a the most cowardly of as- agely. “ Have you gone crazy? Have you boast. excited by this strange circumstance. succemion, like some endless panorama, begin- sasaius.” _ heard all that I told you? Do you know that “.4, It- was really a treat for the miners, after the But on the face of the Californian ap ared a ning anew Where it should have left off. “ Why do you tell me all this!” demanded your father—curse him! even in his grave l—is toils of the day were over, to stroll into the sober look; his instinct warned him t at this It is hours such as these that unsettle the n, with a firmness of nerve that was dead killed through my agency, if not by my Grand Pacific saloon. man was a messenger of evil. brain and create maniacs. The mar-vol is that y remarkable in one so sorely tried. “ Why own hands?” Everybody, that was anybody, was sure to From the bag came a small, folded piece of the poor girl had lived through so many with- take so much pains to blacken yourself!” “I heard all that you said, but it does not be found there some time between eight o’clock pa er. out utterly losing her reason. “That you may the more readily believe wbatI trouble me in the least,” was the uiet response. and midnight. owers looked a little dubious as he opened As one in a dream she heard soft footsteps have inreserve,” was the am“ response. “Isaid “Because I know that you are yiug, in this, The leading newspapers of the coast, as Well it. amid a breathless silence. and then a low just without her door, and then a key turnin that I came here to taste my first draught cf as in all the rest you have spoken!’ as the principal sporting journals, were kept on whistle, indicative of vast astonishment, came in the lock. She knew that the door opene , vengeance, tut I was wrong. That has alreagy He stared at her in mute amazement for a file, and as De Welcher said, when the place was from him as he read the pa r. that some person entered the room, but she su - as , ": ‘. come topass. Your father not yet return moment, then a grim smile curled his mus- opened, it was Liberty Hall; every one was wel- “Wells and Fargo’s recoipt for ten thousand it was her father returned from his ri e has he?” taches. come, nobody was as ed to either eat, drink or dollars!" be exclaimed, and then a low hum of meet Dan Brown of beuver, and she changed There was a truly satanic light in the blue “Hug that delusion to your breast, 'my pr_e~ 3 play; a substantial lunch was spread punctually astonishment ran throughout the room. not her despondent attitude in the least. Never eyes that stared so trium hautly into hers, and cioua, if it gives you any comfort. Time Will ‘- .. at ten each evening and every visitor was free “ You see, you were a leetle hasty in your before had she felt so utterly worn out in mind a feeling of terror seized t 9 poor_ rl. Her li tell which is right.” . i. to help himself, whether he spent any money in statement, my friend,” the stranger remarked. and body; never before‘so little inclined to meet parted to utter a shriek, but 5W1 t as tho t “You said that you were Captain Slyboots?” ‘~ the house or not. “Instead of fifty dollars you owe me ten thou- and combat his threats or persuasions, and be right hand of the outlaw shot out and is “I did; and I repeat it now. But you will And althou h this cost money, for with such sand and fifty. and I will be Very much obliged hoping vaguely that he would retreat and leave palm covered her mouth, while be biased: never tell any person of what I have confessed lavish expen iture the place could not be ex- if you will be so kind as to hand that trifle her unmoleste , at least for that night, she sat “Silence! Utter a sound louder than I am —be sure of that!” pected to pay, De Welcher did not grudge it, over.” motionless as a statue of marble: speaking now and theblood of a score of inno— “ It is joy enough for me to know that you for he had really become intoxicated by success. “ Oh, but this hyer is a skin!” Bowers ex- For a few moments all was silence, but then cent beings will upon your head! I told you speak the truth in this respect.” was the reply, He was asort of a kin 'n this little valley, and claimed, indi antly. “You kin bet yer bot- came the faint, crackling sound of a match be- that I am Captain Slyboots. 1 did not come while her eyes lowed. “Ha! ha! fool! you reigned with an absoluie hand. tom dollar t at I’ve tumbled to your leetle in struck against the wall, and the ghostly here unprepared for hot work,'if such should have overreache yourself at last! You were On a pleasant night in June, De Welcher sat game! If you had lost you would have ured lig t which the moon cast in through the par— become necessary. My good band bore me not content when your end was fair] won, but _ in his accustomed seat, surrounded by his satel- the old-pieces out and said nary wor ’bout tially drawn curtains was overcome asacandle com ny. The are stationed all around this you must press your advantage sti further, lites. this yer receipt for ten thousand !” was lighted and placed upon the little table at ' iug. At t 9 first alarm the .have my or- and in domg so you have opened my eyes to a For the accommodation of the Californian, at “ Pardner, you have no ri ht to suppose an - her elbow. dare to strike sWift and sure—to ill all who at- truth lad as heaven itself ’ the further end of the saloon, a platform bad thing of the kind,” the ot er replied, in t e Impatiently she turned her head, but the tempt to make any trouble—to fire the hotel, “ . at do you mean, Marjeani” he demand- been erected, some three feet higher than the quietest way in the world, yet with a glitter in words died upon her lips—a bot flush leaped and to see that not a living soul save their chief ed, With auot er uneas glance around him. 3 floor, about twelve feet wide, and extending his dark eyes which would have revealed to into her face, only to fade as swiftly, leaving leaves it!” ” That you may be aptain Slyboots, as you aCl'OvS the Whole Width of the room; a curtain anv one of sense that he was not a man to be her countenance paler than before. There was a deadly earnestness in the voice claim—that you may be the foul assassin, rob- -, running on a wire, was so arranged that it could trifled with. “I bet the contents of that bag The intruder was not her father. The candle which uttered these swift Sentences that carried her, thief—but you are not Kyrle Dando—not “in; be drawn across, screening whoever might be on the queen. You accepted the bet, without shone upon the same facc which she had seen conviction with it, and trembling with horror, the man _whom I loved—whom I still lovo!” 1, ' ’ on the platform from the rest of the saloon, if it troubling yourself to examine the bag. If I under the moonlight one ni ht a o, lying along Mafijean ceased to struggle cried Mal Jean, her face fairly radiant, her eyes . was so desired. had lost, the plunder was yours, and if you had the steaming hauuch of t 6 back bu l—the ith a short, mocking laugh, she was re- glowing. ., a, From this post of vantage De Welcher could been fool enough to take the gold without the same face which had stared at her in cold sur- leased. i ‘ easily command a view of all that was goin on. receipt, so much the worse for you, but since I prise when she begged and prayed at the feet of “You have your warning; disobey it at your CHAPTER XXI. , The faro table, which was the principa at- have won and displayed the contents of’ the bag, the man who wore it—the face of Kyrle Dando, peril. Neither Heaven nor man can save you Nani, traction of the place as a rule, was only some I want to see you put your money up like a of Nor’ West Nick! rom the punishment I have marked out for m GIANT m m mm twenty feet away from where De Welcher sat, gentlemen and a scholar; and as to there being “ You seem surprised, Marjean,” he said, leau- you, and as the first installment—listen: Tim outlaw stared at her, thoroughly puzzled. and on the night of which we write the Cali- anything unfair about the matter, I am willing ing on the table and gazing fixedly into her “Until you made that appeal tome last night Had her overtasked brain given way? Was this fornian and his friends were amusing themselves to leave it to the crowd.” widely distended 6 es, his own blue orbs glitter- I had not the faintest idea that you were here the shape her madness had assumed? Was he to by watching the game. Now while there was hardly a man in the ing vividly, a pecu iar smile upon his handsome nor that the man of money whom I had marked find himself foiled, just as it seemed that perfect , . On the platform with De Welcher sat Colonel room who did not believo that the stranger had face. “ And yet, why should you be. Surely down through néy’ spies, as my game, was Ar- success in his cunning and deep-laid schemes f v ‘ Perkins, decidedly the worse for liquor, and the “ put up a job’ upon the bank, and that if he you knew that we must meet again, face toface, thur Ovelman. long a time had passed since was assured? _, ’ three inseparables, who were seldom seen apart, had lost, the receipt would not have been pm- when there were none to overhear our conversa- my trial and conviction on your evidence, that All in a jumble these queries flashed through __ the Californian’s body-guard, Tim Benefast, the duced, yet as the paper was in the bag and tion, or interfere in any way.” I ancied the old sore was fairly healed—but I the brain of the outlaw as the woman confronted ex-sheriif, Hickory Burke, who claimed to be fairly Wagered, by rights the bank ought to His voice was so soft, so gentle, so like it had soon saw my mistake, and even while I was him so boldly, laughing in his ver face, her H . the “Boss Shot of the Willamette,” and ablack- pay. been in the long ago, before the black clouds coldly den ing you, I was swearing veu ce own wearing a look of triumph an joy quite , ‘ bearded, dark-browed giant of a fellow, whose B0wers, gazing upon the crowd, read the de- came over their horizon, that it was only by on you bot . beyond his powers of comprehension, and be ,. handle was Oregon Dave, a man with a fearful cision in their faces before any one hada chance biting her lips until her white teeth were tinged “ As you had stung me deepest, I lved grasped her arm with brutal force as he kissed ' reputation, a desperado of the deepest dye, and speak. with carmine, by clinching her hands until the that you should suffer the bitterest torture and throagh his clinched teeth: who was commonly believed to have killed more “ All ag’in’ me, eh, pards?” be queried. “ You nails buried themselves in the flesh, that Mar- “ so I aimed my first blow at your father. 1’ con- hat do you mean by that? Or is it only ‘ men than he had fingers and toes. think I ought to pou up? All right, I never go jean could refrain from rising and flinging her- flded my p so to Dan Brown, with whom I a crazy freak? Ha!” as a fresh suspicion flashed The saloon was well filled, and all the mes ag’in’ the majority, ’ and then, with a doleful self 11 n his neck, from relieving her brain by had had dea ings as Nor’ West Nick, and he athwart his busy brain. “You are trying to » were going on merrily, when a stranger 0 such air, the dealer made up the sum, which took burst ng into tears u n his bosom. readily fell in with my plans, and together we trick me—trying to play crazy and frighten me a peculiar appearance, that all eyes were instant- every cent he bad. But in her ears were still ringing those cruel carried them out, sofar as Arthur Ovelman was out of my plans! But it won’t work, my lady— . ly directed upon him, walked up to the faro- “ That settles it, pards; see you later,” he re- words—Words which had haunted her constant- concerned. it won’t work l” r ~. ta le. marked. “ This bank is bu’sted, and we shot up ly ever since they fell upon her with such stun- “ That story of the mine being attacked by “ Better for you if that was truth—better if I " ’ He was tall and muscular, with a. lion-like shop until to morrow night.” niug force—and she mad e no motion to arise, Captain Slyboots and his band was all false, were really mad—for then your secret might head; long, curling locks of golden-red hair “Gentlemen, I’m sorry to have spoiled the looking straight into his eyes, scarce breathin . concocted simply to draw your father into a have remained such! But now—I know you ,, floated down over his broad shoulders, and a fun,” the visitor remarked, swee in the spoils “You know me,Marjean?”he softly breatbeg, snare. I knew that he was shrewd and sus- have been lying to me! You are not the man ~' i, short, crispy beard of the same hue covered the with the most careless air imagina is into his a. tenderer li ht coming into his eyes, and his icious, and I baited the trap with care. You whom I loved—whom I still love, more madly lower part of his face. A broad~brimmed, high- pockets, “ and as a sli ht recompense, may I ask hands stretch ug tower her as though involun- now how be swallowed it—now I’ll tell you than ever! The wonderful resemblance deceived crowned, white slouch hat was pulled down over you all to take a drink with me and so enable . what eflect it had on him. me at first. but my eyes are open now—” his brows. He wore a coat and pantaloous me to pay my footing in the town!” - The spell was broken. With a low, asping “ Tim T lift was our ally, though it was our “Indeed!” sneered the outlaw, recovering his made of buckskin, but cut in the latest fashion, “ Bully for you!” cried Bowers, rising from cry, she rose and flung herself upon hisfiioao . rpose to ispose of him as soon ashe had done wanted audacity and coolness as b magic. , and stained a bright red. A ruffled shirt, in the table and givmg it in charge of the attend- His arms wound around her, his mustached lips e work laid out for him, not to have the se- “Siuce you know so much, pray tel me who 1 whose bosom sparkled three great diamonds, al- ants. “ I don’t bear nary malice and I’ll take a pressed a passionate kiss 11 h . 17 ' . . pon hers—then, wi cret known to too many. He brought the note I real] am!” r most as big as chestnuts, and a pair of .patent- bowl With you as quick as with any man in the a hard, cruel lau h be loosened her arms and g here, and delivered it. Your father was 8115- “A ar, coward, villain—beyond that I can’t b ’ leather boots completed his costume. town!” pushed her coldl , almost violently from him. picious, but Tim played his part well, seeming 8a .” a; - ‘4‘! He was well—armed; the butts of two silver- “ You’ll have to make it wine this time, strau- “ Kyrle—my yrle—What have I done!" the indifferent whether your father bore him com- Captain Slyboots showed his white, even tceth ‘ ‘f. mounted revolvers peeped out at his wais ', ger!” exclaimed one of the oldest citizens of the poor woman faltered, sup rtin her tremblin _ . _ . _ g puny. back or not, and the old fox yielded. beneath his pointed mustacbes as the dauntless and a. massive ten-inch home—knife was thrust camp. “ Any man that kin clean up ten thou— form by leaumg a inst t e tab 6, to the o “ im conducted him into the snare. Dan woman fiun these epithets at him, fearlessly through the belt of untanned leather that girted sand and fifty at a lick can’t go back on the site side of which fie _ 4 ~ . . e retreated, as though afraid Brown met him there, and struck him down— meeting his ry, threatening gaze. ‘8 , in his middle. sparkling stuff.” to trust himself nearer. Beware!” he hissed, as he drew a knife and held “ All these—and yet you deny that I am your ’ * Approac‘iing the faro table be cast a buckskin “ N ary a go-back! Barkeeper, open a couple “ What have you not done rather!” he grated, the littering point to the breast of the horror- old lover, Kyrle Dando !” he laughed, mockingly. . , bag upon the queen, and inquired: of baskets, and if thatusn’t euou h we’ll have a the smile gone, the soft light in his blue eyes stric en woman. “ Utter a single cry, and you “ I den it—yes! For a time I was deceived. ;_ ‘ “ What’s your limit, pard, for I reckon I want csuple more!” Red Richard exc aimed, chuck- growing hard and merciless as he spoke with seal not only our own fate, but that of all who but as I listened to your cruel lies, as I looked ‘ to come into this hyer game?” ing a hundred dollars in gold at the presiding rapidity. “You have provod yourself my curse attempt to sillyou!” into your face to see how such a frightful trans- , ""x The Californian started as though he had been genius of the bar. from the moment I first set eyesupon your fair, bitten by a make. The voice sounded stran ely This liberality caused the crowd to open their false face. You This brutal precaution was hardly necessary, formation had been wrought in the gentle, hon— to him like the tones of the man he feared, ick e es. No such “ an e!” as this had ever struck have dragged my name in the for Marjean could not utter a sound. Her est man whom I once knew I netrated the a a w a . ’ dust and mire. You have rumed my entire life limbs failed her, and she would have fallen to cunnin mask you wore—I knewp;ou were not Talbot. t e town of Shasta ar before. and destroyed my future—bavo made me an the floor, only for the quick swce of the out- Kyrle audo, but an impostor who had assumed ,7 The barkeeper hastened to obey the order, the outcast and a branded felon—and yet you can law’s stron arm which encircl her waist. his name for some vile purpose!” "’ . CHAPTER VII. like of which he had never board since he had ask that?” w _ _ _ . He lowe her into the chair, then, standing “ Terribly audacious in me, was it not?” asked 6 q i“ L. BREAKING THE BANK. co‘mz into the Shasta country. MarJean reeled as though his clinched fist had close before her, seeing that though in a stupor, the‘cutlaw, with a mocking laugh. “But ra . _ . nd never mind the change, young man,” been dashed into her face. The Wild, haunted so far as her bodily were were concerned, tell me how I made the slip? If not yrc “ THAR isn’t nary a limit in this hyer game, continued Red Richard, with the air of aprince, look came back into . ' _ her eyes. One trembling she could comprehend is words, he mercilessly Dando, who am I!” ,, my gentle gazelle,” replied the faro-dealer, who “ keep it to grease your boots,w1tb, so that you hand sought her bro ~ ' u . I W, the other was pressed continued: “As I looked into your face, I missed some- .. i was no other than our ancient friend, Joe Bow- Will be able to remember me. ’ . against her convulswely throbbing heart. “You took alarm too soon, my precious,” thing,” slowly uttered Marjean, with a fixed I ers, but the ragged, disreputable bummer no :‘ Bully for you, stranger!” exclaimed the old “I had ho d that our life trails would never with a malignant laugh. “Your dear parent gaze. “Something that Kyrle Dando would longer. I miner who had reViously spoken. “ I reckon cross each ot er again—I even prayed that they was not killed—just then,” and he laughed again carry to the grave with him—the scar on his left He sported a decent suit of clothes_ now, had that you re a c can White man and no mis- might not, for fear I should forget that you as the new-born light of hope was quenched in temple, from the hurt he received on the day we _. even mounted a white shirt, and reJOIced in a take.” wear the shape which my dead mother wore, those lustrous eyes. tmet—received by him in saving my life, al~ ‘ 3 ‘ clean. shave, and yet was still the same old irre— “ A clean white man I” cried Oregon Davo, and is remembering my wrongs, strike to the “Tim To ift was to be disposed of before he most at the cost of his own.” “ ' ' . firesslble, as in days of yore, excepting that contemptuously; “wa’al I reckon thar may be earth the woman Ionce ovedso madly! recovered rom his surprise, and Dan Brown For a moment the outlaw stared into her a managed to keep sober at night when on two 0 inions in regard to that l” “ In this hope, I kept far away from the old was not a man to slight an job to which be set face, as though doubting the truth of what she duty. _ . “ _ho trod on you that you yelp so loudly!” home, but the fates were against me. You his hand. A bullet bored 'Kim’s brain, and Dan said, but then, with a low, angry snarl, be _, “ Nary a. limit,” he repeated. “Me'noble exclaimed the stranger, turning upon Ore on came, and tried once more the cunning arts dragged him into the cabin where your father leaped forward and clasped her forminbis arms. ,9, dook, you km anything down onto this hyer Dave with such sudden fierceuess that the y- that proved so successful with me in the days lay. Then Brown used his knife—sent it home “Curse you! you know too much, now! But ‘ . ‘ ' table from a China orange up to a house and stauders instantly fell back, anticipating that gone by, caring nothing for the vulgar crowd to the hilt in your father’s heart,” slowly ut- yon’ll never squeal! I’ve gone too far to re- .. lot. and I’ll see and climb ye, every time!” there would trouble. . around, perhaps enjoying the eagerness with tered the outlaw, closely watchin his victim, treat. If worse comes of it, blame yourself for I _ g y. “My stake IS in the bag, and back the ueen The bully himself was somewhat astonished. which they drank in your words and gloated ready to check any outcry, shoulfi her horror not keeping a closer ton ue betWinz your teeth ‘ , to W11]. Do you dare to play Without a Slg t at He had expected war—he intended to provoke over your disheveled beauty—for you are still allow her to make the attempt. —for facing your before the pot was my plunder?” _ _ . the strauger into a quarrel when he spoke, but a beauty—beautiful as Luci er before he fell !” But not a sound escaped her blanched lips. closed 1” * i “ ()h, I bet ye; I reckon I kin meet it if I lose, he badn t any idea t at his challenge would be .A mocking laugh lent an additional sting to Her eyes were full of unutterable horror, but Mai-jean realized the mistake she had made in unless you ve got Wells and Fargo s Frisco safe aogepted so prom’ptly. his bitter words, and the poor woman fiiuched she was powerless to give it audible utterance. thus 0 nly revealing the wonderful discovery _ ‘ In81d8,0f thar: but, say, who air you, any— Look-a-hyer!’ growled Dave, as soon as he as though he had stabbed her to the heart. Her A frightful s 11 seemed to weight her down. she ha made, but too late to avert the conse- way? pears to me”as if I never run afoul of you Could recover from his astonishment, “ain’t you blanched lips moved, but not a sound bsued Truly Kyrle ando was taking his revenge! quences. The iron grip of the outlaw closed y. afo‘re, anywhars! . . crowing pretty loud for _u strange chicken? from their portals. “Dan Brown secured the money which Ar- upon her, stifling the cry which rose in her « - M name is Richard—Red Richard, some Amt you afeard that I Will slap yer face and “Shall I go over the Whole story?” he added, thur Ovelman took with him to pay for the throat before it could find birth. Pressing her folks call me, and as I’m not particular, I had mash yer ’tarnal jaw for on?" ’ ' , . n _ . with a smile that was almost satanic in its cruel Jealous Girl, and in doing so, be detected si s backward to the bed. he tore therefrom a dark Just as soon have that for a handle as anything _ Afraid! afraid of suc an overgrown, slab- hardness. “ Shall Irepeat the amusin tale of the or life still lingering, and to make all sure, he blanket and wrapped it tightly around her head else ’ Sided, wolf-mouthed rufiian as you are I” re- silly moth Who so hopelessly scorcheg ' his Wings? used his knife once more, cuttiu your father’s and shoulders, knottin the ends to ether. De Welcher sat and stared. This stranger corted the other. “ Why, you haven’t sense Bahl you know it all better than I can tell throat from ear to ear. And belies there now, Still holding her firmgly, he took ugp the candle could not be Talbot, and yet he bore a striking enough to climb a tenderfoot, nor Courage suf— it, even if I could trust myself. You know that in that lone cabin, a si ificant testimonial of and made a. f l resemblance to the missmg min. fiCient to attack a Digger Injun. If you dare to you u d me on into d l t' th t I th ' h' b 1 D d h' th ta' d ew quiCk mOtions With it before . . . g r e co rs cu a ion, a e manner in w ic r e an o s e cur ' ' The hair and beard might be false, although open your mouth again I’ll smack you, just for might ghe sooner win the Iifighlm to demand your debts!” y pay 15 me wmdow, then blew out the dun . . L . - _ ,,, _ , , . light and cast the candle upon the bed. it (lld not seem poss1ble, but the‘ forehead of the luck. . hand in marriage. I believed that you were in The outlaw paused, as though to witness and Bending his head close to the nearlyothered stranger bore no mark of the ‘ crimson cross, ’ ‘ You will?” . earnest, then—as much in love as it lay in your gloat over the agony which his horrible story woman, he hissed: . the brand which the Callsol‘nlnn’s vengeance “I will!’ andso he did, and then there was heartless, sfiulless disposition to be. You see I must certainly cause the helpless daughter. but “Utter a sound—make the slightest resist- ll’i‘l caused to be stamped upon l'IS foe. the glitter of kn vcs in the air. am willing to do you justice, for all you showed to his amazement, a smile slowly crept over that once, and I solemnly swear I’ll drive my knife Such a mark could not be off ‘.(‘l‘(l, therefore (To be cont,anued—cmnmenccd in No. 23.) ‘ me scant mercy when I stumbled and fell in the pale face, and a strange look came into her eyes. home to your been, though I stretch hemp for _ ~wr~ - "av—van": - i l i l l 3 i “hr. )2! \ - f. the deed the next minute! Be sensible, and your life is safe. I only warn once.” There could come no audible aDSWer through those smothering folds, nor did the outlaw wait for one. Lowerin her to the floor, he hastily produced a light ut strong rope-ladder from about his waist, and unrolling it, fastened one end to the inner window—sill, flinging the other outside. A faint whistle came up from the shadow at the base of the building, telling him that his signal had been seen and understood. Catchin up the motionless form of Marjean Ovelman, e rested it across his shoulder, slip- ping through the window and rapidly descend- ing to the ground, where a tall form was steady- ing the ladder. "Let it hang where it is,” muttered the out- law. “ It will give the citizens something to gossip over in the morning, and throw them on the wrong scent. Lead the way, home, by the rear and keep all eyes open for snags. Give me imely warning, or so much the worse for your hide!” Silently the tall form glided away in the shadows, as noiselesst followed by the outlaw bearing his now insensible burden. Keeping out of the main street, dodging through the ob- scure byways, a house near the extreme south- ern end of the oblong valley was at length reached. “ Wait here until I give the word whether I want you for anything more or not,” muttered the kidnapper, pausing on the threshold and rapping in a peculiar order upon the closed door With his knuckles. A brief spell of waiting. then the barrier swun open, and he stepped inside, greeted by a lit a exclamation as of surprise or annoy- ance. “ Lock and bar, then strike a light. No time to talk, now!” he said, roughly, loosening the tightly - athered folds of the blanket from around t e face of his victim. In silence he was obeyed, but then, as the light of an oil lam made things visible, it re- vealed the face 0 a woman, darkl beautiful, but now rendered almost re ulsive y the mad jealousy with which it was lled. “ Who is that? Why do you bring her here, without giving me my walking-papers?” she de- manded, almost savagely, as she bent forward and glared into the w ite, deathlike counte- nance which rested against the shoulder of the outlaw. “ Don’t be a fool, Belle!” he muttered, show- ing his teeth. “This is business, not a mash. There’s big money in it, if we play our cards right. I’ll need your help, I reckon, so don’t let your infernal jealousy get the better of you.” Roughly. impatientlyvas he spoke, the woman ap red satisfied. ith one hand resting lig tly upon his shoulder, she reached up and pressed her red lips to his. “ I was a fool, Saint. But you can’t blame me. I have no claim on you, other than what my blind love gives me, and when I saw you bring a woman here—and one as lovely as a marble statue, at that—wasn’t it natural that I should be jealous? You hadn’t given me a hint of what to expect—but it’s all ri ht now. Tell me what I am to do, and I’ll doi .” “ I didn’t expect to fetch her here myself ” with a hard laugh, “so on are not the only one taken by surprise. ut I’ll explain it al after a bit, Take her to your room and see if you can bring her around. It will be a nasty turn, on more accounts than one, should she slip of! the books just now. Do your best, and you’ll be no loser, old girl.” Without a word the woman took the insensi- ble form up in her arms and left the room. For aminute he stared with a dark frown at the door through which she had vanished, and, handsome though he confessedly was, just then St. Clair Guthrie was not a pleasant object to contemplate. He had played a bold game, and though it looked as though success had crowned his ef- forts thus far, he knew better. Utter defeat stared him in the face, and he knew that only the most skillful playing could save him from even worse. “To slip up like this, when I was so sure I had the ame won to a dead certainty!” he mut- te , the ugly light growing more vivid in his blue eyes. “I thought I knew every card in the pack, but in that cursed scar she held one that knocked my calculations westendand- crooked! So much the worse for her!" and he showed his teeth in a vicious snarl. “ I’ll change the combination for a fresh deal, though it doubles the risk and undoes more than half my work so far.” He bit off his speech with a savage curse, then unlocked the door and uttered a low whistle. A moment later the tall shadow which had ac- companied him from the hotel came forward, and the light of the lamp changed it into the tall claimant for the honors attached to the title of N01" \Vest Nick. “ Come in. I want to have a few words with you,” sharply uttered St. Clair Guthrie, stepping aside to admit the giant, then closing and lock- in the door behind them. “Sit down.” ith a craven, uneasy air, the giant obeyed, and the two men confronted each other across the little round table. “ You came to me in answer to a dispatch for a man of nerve, of cunning and address. Your recommendations were good, and I relied on you to accomplish the wor I had in view when I took the trouble to send for you. You promised well at our first interview. You swore that the job was as good as done, and I, like a fool, be- ieved you. Now—how has it turned out? A wretched botch from beginning to end l" “Was I all to blame?” muttered the giant, sullenly. “ Didn’t I play the part you told me, all right?” “At the beginning—yes: because there was no chance for you to bungle it. I gave you the money to rig yourself out, and to make the bet. A bigger coward than ever stood in Dan Brow n’s boots would have taken you up, before that crowd. But you let him get the better of Iy;ou in every way. Then came that cursed red- orned fellow! Who is he?” “ I’ll never tell c!” with a shrug of the shoul- ders. “ I never c apped my two eyes onto him afore he come 3 lur in’ in an’ lay claim to the same name I tuc . ow’d I know but what he was the raal Nor’ West Nick? Was it anyways strailife that it sorter knocked me off my feet?” “ o,” admitted St. Clair Guthrie, in a less sharp tone. “I was quite as much demoralized as you, and though I tried to see an excuse for dropping the fe low before matters grew any worse, I let that infernal Dan Brown get ahead of me, and to save my own carcass I drew out of the game for that hand. But you‘re positive you can’t place the fellow?” “ Dead sure! He ain’t a critter any one could fergit in a hurry when oncet spotted. I thought I bed a soft thing when they sot us up forninst each other with the mauleys, but ef it was pie, thar was a right smart sprinklin’ o’ kyann pep- per atween the crusts!” with a hard laugh hat was an thing but mirthful. “I did the best I knowed: I pounded the ones as I never afore was called on to thump a human critter, but it was like tryin’ to make rails out of a sycamore log with a wedge 0’ cake an’ a s e fer a maul! Ef he ain’t the devil wit his horns turned to red ha’r an’ sot a ittle lower then common, then I 've it up as too knott fer me to wrastle down!" declared Nichols, wit a slow wag of his shaggy pate. “ Never mind. I don’t care so much for him as for the other fellow who claitns the name of Nor’ West Nick. Have you any idea who he reall is?” “ he ’riginal Jacobs, I reckon,” and as he spoke, Nichols cast a covert glance into the face of the gambler from beneath his shaggy eye- brows, as thouvh to read his belief. “ You may e right,” was the slow res use. " But whoever he is, he is in my way, an must be got out of it, by fair means or foul. And I count on you to do the job!" The iant shifted uneasily on his seat, clearly not re ishing the turn which the conversation had t iken. “It won’t be so easy,” he muttered. “The critter is chain-lightnin‘ b’iled down! I’d ruther tackle the red cuss ag’in.” "Ihmwlllllw ll “Imdon’t ask you to take the job—I order ou. “ All right—cf ye putt it in that shape,” dog- l . " {do—but at the same time, I mean to pay you in proportion to the risk involved. You now the bet you made with Dan Brown? The stakes are in my hands, and I furnished you with the cash to put up. The whole amount shall be yours, the moment you prove to me be- yond al doubt that this man—this Nor’ West Nick, as he terms himself—45 dead.” Nichols rubbed the tip of his nose thought- ful . “That sounds mighty ginerous, an’ I ain’t hintin’ but what it is jest as free-handed as it sounds, but what about Dan Brown, boss? Reckon he‘d kick, wouldn’t he?” “ Kick he will, beyond a doubt!” laughed St. Clair Guthrie with a malignancy that caused the blood of the hardened rufiian who sat o po- site to turn a shade colder. “But it wil be kicking against empty air, at the end of a rope. Don’t you borrow trouble, my friend. Dan Brown will never lay claim to any portion of those stakes. He may return to Rocky Bar—he will return, I may say, but it will onl be to meet death! I’ve insured that. He w' hang higher than Haman!” “ They got to take him on the 'ump, then, or thar’ll be more funerals in town t an his,” with a grim laugh. “I don’t lay claim to bein’a coward, but when that circus comes off, ef I hev to see it, I want to look on from ahind a stump big enough to be bulletproof—you hear me talk I” ‘ " Never mind Dan Brown. I’ll take care of him. You have other business to think of. Wipe out this Nick 0’ the West, and the money is yours. But you don’t want to lose any time. Only make sure of your first stroke. You might not get time to put in another. You understand?” “ Chuck—u l” said the giant, rising to his feet. “I’ll take t e trail at oncet, an’ when sun-up comes, boss, thar’ll be a cold corpus for you to look "at—an’ I’ll take the ducats in out o’ the wet! “ See that you’re not the meat for the mourn- ers, then!” said the gambler, warningly, as be unlocked and opened the door. ('10 be continued—commenced in No. 16.) The Apheliun. BY ANTHONY P. toms. IF I had remained content. with my usual routine of occupation as church and theatrical reporter, I would have been spared an experi- ence which fixed, for nearly a whole year, a most unpleasant burden of thought upon my mind. 3 Professor Pillbug had been in the town for a week or more, astonishing the citizens by his remarkable exhibitions as a mesmerist. The theory of mesmerism I had always “ pooh- h’d,” and I stoutly believed old Pill- bu to a fraud. hen I called at his office in my reportorlal capacity, it was with the idea that I would be ah e to expose sensationally his systematic hum- bugisms in the Daily Mentor. ‘ Well, sir, what do you want!” he demanded, opening the door in answsr to my rap. “ Want to interview you.” “ What about?” “ You say you are a mesmerist?” H Yes.” “ Our paper wants some decided information on the sub'ect. I represent the Daily Mentor.” “ Ah! all: in.” It was as plain a room as mortal man ever lived in. There were no goblin ornaments whatever, no mysterious implements or other supposable indications of witchcraft. “ Your name?” he inquired. “ Hogglegy." “ Ba seat , Mr. Hoggleby,” pushing forward a chair and appropriating another for himself opposite. “ Will you please explain to me, if on can,” I commenced, “whence is derived t e power you profess, and of what in particular it is com— rised?” “ Only briefly, Mr. Hog leby. I am born with superior faculties of e ection, understand- ing and emotion, and by direct magnetic com- munication with the subject I produce between us a harmony entirely subservient to my own will; mind and voice respond to me as the strings of .an instrument to a player’s fingers. The inner soul—I may compare—becomes as a harp beneath my touch. Philosophizing on anything so marvelous, however, is like a pil- grimage leading weary distances to vague ter- minations.” This speech struck me as though Pillbug de- sired io evade me. “ Your successes, then, indicate that, within certain opportunities, you have complete con- trol over the average 0 men?” I said. “ Precisely. I would like to experiment upon you. Then you mi ht experience something of what would really go too tedious for me to ex- plain to you.” This was assurance, at least. I was inclined to submit to the test. “I think you would yield readily, Mr. Hog— gleby.” “ ry me!” I said, with a skeptical, swagger— ing‘toss of my head. be next instant Pillbug began a mystifying series of “ passes ” before my face; my gaze was irresistibly fascinated by his little brilliant black orbs. It may have been an hour or a minute was thus consumed; I lost all abilit to reckon the passage of time. As if two eaden-weighted books were fastened to my eyelids, they drooped, they closed, I was in absolute dark- ness. Darkness—silence—in the midst of which I trod upon nothing, was hanging in space, could hear nothing—even the sounds in one’s ears pro- duced by the arterial circulation in such a soli- tude, having utterl ceased. There was no throb of the pulse. either thought to the sen- sor nor motion of the muscular organs re- mained to me. . Then I was revolved into a prostrate position. (I say prostrate because of that sensation from nervous fluid which, through the internal sense, conveyed an ima ination of the same ) My eyes open on a limitless vacuum. Like a sleeping dreamer, whose auditory, optical and euunciatory or ans revive, see and converse— yet unable to disenchant from the thralldom of the functions—I plainl heard the voice and dis— cerned the face of Pill ug. “ You confess that you are at this moment in a trance?” he propounded. H ’7 “ The order of your brain is at my disposal?” “ I have not even power to deny t.” “ What are your sensations?” “ By great effort I inflate my lungs, though what enters them seems inadequate to sustain life. Over my heart I have no mastery; it has ceased its beating. What a cold place this is! Where am I?” “ You have entered the void dividing the ma- terial from immaterial things.” “You must be right. I can detect the odor of the grave, and hear the rustle of spirits, the essence of whose souls is, as yet, unshaped for the after duration in the invisibility beyond our system. But, are you now conversing with my soul or my body?” “Why do you wish to know i” “ Because feel that I am both dead and alive.” V “ How can you account for such a thing?” “ Cannot the soul continue in its earthly tene- ment for a considerable time after the death of the flesh? Here is palpany manifest the coex- istence and action of the material and imma- terial in nature, and the superior endurance of one over the other.” “ Right. Now, Mr. giggleby, look around ou.” By this time I was in possession of sufficient optical and fiber susceptibility to survey—and my flesh to creep at—my surrounding. My searching eyes strained vainly to compass the space about me, wherein there was no air to breathe, and the very absence of which in- spired repugnance in lungs and nostrils. Here and there, all around, flickering dully from the depths of a sable distance, were eye-like sparks which I judged to be stars. Afar off 1 dis- cerned a yellow-bronze ball, which appeared to be stationar , and in which I saw the unmis- takable outlines of continents and seas. sin I heard the voice of Professor Pillbug. “ k before you, Mr. Hoggleby.” “ I obey you.” “ Mark that pale globe advancing upon you.” . “,1, see it. But it does not appear to be mov- “Nevertheless it is comin directly toward you with unparalleled ve ocity. You are uarely in its track. Look behind you now.” y letting my head drop backward at his command I was enabled to see a large, round, luminous body, and beyond this another having a double halo of rings, as of two burning balls just come together, the one artially occulting the other, like two planets. remarked the im- pression it gave me. “ And you are correct,” Pillbug said. “ L9t me explain it to you. This is the first day of July, and the hour forty minutes past four o’clock in the afternoon. The sun’s diameter is now 31 min., 31 sec. In the past twenty min— utes the earth has entered the solemn crisis of the aphelion. Do you recall the danger which threatened the earth many years ago, when in perihelion, by other and stupendous planets also at perihelion and bearing a direct influence upon us?” “ Yes: I remember the consternation of some people then.” “Well, now, in the aphelion, a similar dan- ger more than threatens. Jupiter and Saturn have simultaneously arrived at opposition with the sun. Unable to withstand the combined attraction of those two mighty worlds, the earth has shot off from the furthest limit of her orbit and is now speeding straight onward to collide with them, the usual velocity of 98,163 feet per second already quadrupled and contin- ually gathering momentum. Imagine then how great, at this rate, will be the concussion of its contact with Ju iter.” “The result 0 this?” “ Then comes annihilation—the end of all!” “And I, you say, am directly in the path of the earth?” “Precisely.” “ How will it aflect me?” To this Pillbug replied on! with a laugh that seemed to issue like a sepulc ral glee from some white-jowled and fiendish skeleton. At that moment appeared beside me the city editor of the Mentor. I strug led to ask my chief for relief from my horrib e predicament, but now my tongue seemed palsied and of ice. Bending over me and placing a hand on my deathly brow, he asked illbug: “ How long ma this man remain thus?” “Until the en of the world!” was the re- sponse, and I detected in it an accent of demo— niacal gavety. “ Ah! I knew he was somewhat skeptical.” “ This is the fate of skeptics who come to me.” A inful horror seized me at these words. Was it my soul or body that occupied its posi- tion in the track of the ponderous, oncoming earth? Powerless of tongue and limb, pendulous and doomed, my terror redoubled upon the dis- covery that I was suddenly and utterly alone— without companionshi of voice or being. Could it be possible was to be thus deserted, left to so horrible a fate? "éUntil the end of the world!” Pillbug had sai . God in heaven! that dread epoch was already at hand! I could compute, from the vastly increased di- mensions of the bronze-hued ball that it 'had drawn frightfully close—it was still coming. With every nerve now as if mortally on edge with every hair on my head standing stiffly, I could only stare helplessly, writhing impotently, upon the swift-coming mass, whose gigantic pro- portions, immense weight and turbulent at— mosphere—displacing vacuum in its phenome- nal progress—produced a sound like a million rockets and whistles; while streaming toward it, falling upon it, or training behind it, were hundreds of blazing asteroids, foremost among which was the moon in a mad chase after its governing orb, and swayed from side to side like a lantern on a kite’s tail. Now I could see countries and nations, with ople and beasts swarming like vermin, scram- ling to escape the torrents and floods of water, seething, billowing, white—lashed, gravitating toward the attracted side, pouring into the spouting volcanoes that hurled their ashes high on the breasts of conflicting whirlwinds. How awfully, shudderingli grand! But, anther minute—snot or second, and all this would be upon me. N 0 time to see or think more. On it came! It was here! Ah! I was flattened into invisibility! Naught survived but my intangible spirit! Aciresses’ Diamonds. DIAMONDS on the stage are usually owned in inverse ratio to merit. There are some few reat actresses who own a great many diamon s. They make a great deal of money and think that they may as well put some of it in precious stones. The respect- able class of actresses seldom own diamonds. They do not make enou h money to buy them from their earnings, an they Will not receive them otherwise. We are not a diamond-giving country as they say Russia is. We do not throw diamonds in bouquets out of pure and platonic admiration. It is curious that the women on the stage who are callous enough to receive diamonds, are cal- lous enough to show them. But good women are vain as well as bad ones, a platitude which only its truth makes ex- cusable. Lillian Russell, for instance, was trumpeted in the papers about a ear ago as having run away With a young ellow about town, Howell Osborn, whereas she had gone to Chicago, to see her father. It all came about through a diamond necklace. She had worn the handsome bauble in “ The Snake Charmer” and “ Patience,” and it was the talk about town that it was a magnificent present from Howell, for the value could not have been less than That is what peo le said. The truth is that the beautiful neck ace cost $75, that it is made up of etc diamonds and was bou ht by Miss Russel out of her own salary of a week. It was only vanity that gave her the bad name, though the contradiction of the report soon came. Miss Russell does own a modest pair of earrings and a cluster ring, that is all. There are two women now in America whose fortunes in diamonds are not rivaled by. any professional actress now living. One is att1, the other is J anauschek. The large earnings the latter has always made go in diamonds. She believes in them as an investment, and though as she herself says, “ they do not draw interest, they do not break as banks do, they do not fall as stocks do, and they are as good as read money.” Many of these gems (she has a pair of solitaires worth ,000) were presents from high and might people when she was a Ger- man actress. he particularly prizes a set given her by the Octogenarian Emperor of Germany. He was a great admirer of her rugged talent. She also has a rin given her by the then Queen Augusta an beautiful pantre a resent from Francis Joseph. Alto- gether li arlame Janauschek’s diamonds are worth $175,000. She seldom carries them with her. They are now in a safe—deposit vault in this city. Madame Patti’s diamonds have been so often spoken of that the story of their worth and beauty is an old one. The set 'ven her by the late Emperor of Russia she prizes most of all. «if 9 C0) <_ It comprises necklace, earrings, bracelets, rings and stomacher and crown. The stones most of them are about seven carats. One runs very high and there are some of less weight than four carats and they are merely embroidery to the rest. Few if any of these stones were purchased by the Diva herself. They came in presents from royal hands, in bouquets from unknown admirers, in a score of ways. Some few the Marquis de Caux gave her, but purchased with the money she had earned. “It was the way be satisfied his conscience,” she one day said, pliifyfully, “ for spending the remainder on him- se Madame N ilsson has a small collection of ver handsome stones which she saved of the wrec of her husband’s fortune. Some went, but she kept a few of the best, and they are all resents, some of them from ladies of title in n land. The collection is worth probably $50, not more. Mrs. Langtry has spent $10,000 to $12,000 in jewelry. From a jeweler named Spyer, who keeps the “Diamond Parlor " in St. Louis, she recently bought about $7,000. The Lily may own at present $30,000 worth of diamonds, not more. Mr. John R. Rogers, the manager of Minnie Palmer, is by first profession a diamond-dealer. He has interest in a house in Maiden Lane. He bought some great bargains last summer in . England for iss Palmer. Here the stones would be worth $5,000. A man named Hill, who was formerly in the clothing business in Chicago, has used diamonds for an advertisement on the stage. He had a play called “ All the Rage,” traveling about the country. The piece did not pay. Hill had the notion of buying diamonds and exhibiting them around the necks and fingers of the actresses in his company. He bought diamonds for $15,000, and they attracted so much attention that peo- ple went to see the play. But the novelty were off, and he transferred the diamonds to Mim Margaret Mather, an amateur actress whom Hill is taking about the country in Shakes- pearian parts. The diamonds are attractive when placed on the neck of Juliet, and alto- gether it is a good business dodge. Miss Annie Louise Cary has a buckle in dia- monds which has been much talked about. It is a very beautiful and unique ornament. Miss Cary used to have some very handsome stones, but she had so much trouble about them, she came so often near losing them and so many were the attempts to steal them that she sold them off! Only an expert could tell them from the real so good are they! Mlle. Yerona J arbeau, a very charming singer in comic opera, has a very handsome parure, a presentation from her admirers shortly after she first went on the s The stones are not large ones, but the are of good quality and ver prettil thong elaborately set. The setis wort about _ One of the ladies of the stage who‘ has given some of her time to the collection rather of cu- riosities in precious things than in the mere il— ing up of stones is Clara Morris-Harriett. he has a casket of peculiar things—pearls, dia- monds, topazes, Opals, cameos and mosaics— which is more than pleasure‘to the eye merely. Every stone has its histor , besides its value. But she does not like to s ow them to every- body. It is only now and then that the fit takes her to look over them, and she then seems fas- cinated bythem. They excite her, and she puts them bac in their box suddenly, as if she were afraid of the spell they exercise on her. The actresses of New York do not run much to precious stones. Miss Coghlan, Miss J ewett, Miss Harrison, Miss Rehan are quite modest in their displays. Miss Jewett has a very hand- some and pure air of old mine stones very steel white. It is c aimed that they are Golconda stones. They are of very fair size. Lotta never took much stock in diamonds, but Mrs. Crabtree, her respected mother, thinks they are a waste. She prefers investing the money her daughter makes in something that brings interest. Miss Mary Anderson spent $10,000 last year in St. Louis in the purchase of a fine set of dia- monds. But she seldom wears them, and they were not once seen during her recent engagement in New York. She contemplates spending $10,- 000 more in Europe in the same way. Casual Mention. THE spotted vail, which has again come into fashion, is said to be very injurious to the eyes. This is probabl what a noted oculist referred to when he sai that every spot on one of these vails was five dollars in his pocket. IF the statement be true that there are 9,000,000 children in the United States who are outside of all Sunday-school education and in‘ fluence, there is a wider field for missionary work at home than can be found in Tongata- boo. ' A PI'I'rSBURG detective observes that there are few fat men among the criminals. The lean and hungry Cassius is the bad man. “ Our most desperate criminals,” the detective remarks to a reporter. “ are mostly the small-sized men with light complexions.” THERE is to be a dearth of ministers if the de- crease in the number of theological students continues. Presbyterians, Baptists, and Con- gregationalists find it difficult even now to fill vacancies, and other denominations seem to be equally urgent in their desire for more clergy— men. THERE is reason to believe that more cases of dangerous and fatal diseases are gradually en— gendered annually by the habit of sleeping in small unventilated rooms, sa 3 the Builder, than ave occurred from a cho era atmosphere during any year since it made its appearance in this country. THEnE is a tribe of Indians in Washin ton Territory known as “The Dreamers.” hey believe there will soon be another flood like that of Noah’s time, and they have provided over 50,000 feet of lumber with which to build an ark. They are expecting every day since the recent rains began, to receive specifications and full instructions. After the flood they expect to inhabit the earth alone, and live forever in ease and luxury. THERE is a gentleman in Norwich, Conn., who has been training an intelligent dog to pick up money and coin when dropped. The animal took kindly to the trick and proved very cute in retrieving bank-notes, etc. The other day the dog disappeared, much to the annoyance of his owner, and nothing could be learned of his whereabouts. At the end of twenty-four hours he reappeared with two one-dollar bills in his mouth. The question now is, “ Where did he get the money?" THE recent, ex losion of a gun owder fac- tory at Berkeley, al., developed a ero. Frank Roller saw the shower of sparks set fire to a tarpaulin on the deck of a schooner lying at a wharf. He knew that fifty tons of the explosive were aboard the vessel. he crew were aware of it, too, and the scampered away as fast as possible. But Ro ler leaped through the win- dow of his house, ran to the perilous craft, and extinguished the flames b throwing on water with a bucket. If the re had reached the cargo the town and everybody in it would have been destroyed. A FIGHT between a rattlesnake and a black snake was recently witnessed near Fort Worth, Texas. The black snake forced the fighting, glidin around in swift circles while the rattle snake ay coiled. The circles grew smaller and the rattlesnake appeared confused as the black snake grew closer. His rattles ceased to give out their usual sharp sound, and his head dropped as if vertigo was seizing him. The black snake seized, by a lightning movement, the rattler by the throat, and winding about him, the two rolled over and over together. In a few moments the rattlesnake ceased to breathe. An examination of the dead rattle— snake revealed a fracture in the spine as com- plete as if done by a blow with a club. The rattlesnake measured five feet and three inches. ll. ullllllllll llllllill l Popular Poems. — r i—7!—— A CLEAR CASE. av n. A. F. Auburn hair inclined to curl, Honest eyes and winning smile; Form to set the brain awhirl, Lips that might a saint beguile: That’s the girl. Taller than the maiden coy. Tmthful. fearless, handsome. strong, Heart of gold without a’loy, Haltin ne‘er ’twixt right and wrong: hat‘s the boy. Window panes festooned with rime, Leafless trees and hillsides bare; Town clock sounding midni ht‘s chime, Street lamps limmering ere and there: That s t e time. Nestling at the mountain‘s base, With its one long quiet street ed in winter’s white embrace; Quaint old village, prim and neat: That’s the place. Truant arm and shy embrace, Tender vows in willin ear, Kisses on an upturned ace, Whis red: “ Yes, I love you, dear;" at‘s the case. —N. Y. Sim. to; ANN TAYLOR. BY H. C. DODGE. Ann Taylor was a seamstress a ho Did woman’s rights espouse, So. when she‘d knit licr stockings new, She’d also knit her brows. The thread of her discourse so long She ne’er was known to drop; E’en stitches in her side tho’ strong, Would never make her stop. She’d buttonhole you, hem and haw And pin you to the fact, And stick until the point you saw Of her address and tact. Wool—gathering often went her wits And then she’d spin a. yarn, And cut you short and give you fits; If worsted she would darn. She’d rip and tear your answers rash And haste each one Iyou’d quote, And say that the mac ine she’d smash If she could only vote. She sowed so many tears that she Soon gathered widow’s weeds; Then tried to mend her ways and be The sew lace man most needs. —Norrist0wn Herald. 10: HIS DEVOTIONS. BY M. BRIDGES. The organ peals, the choir is singing; I wonder if she knows I’m here? Her thoughts, no doubt, are upward winging, While mine sink, clogged with doubt and ear. ’Tis she, of course; there’s no mistaking Her crowded. glossy curls of brown, And that‘s the bonnet she was making; I sat and watched her head the crown. How deft her fingers are. how busy! Ah! happy man within whose home-— But, stay! such thouglits they make me dizzy, And have no place eneath this dome. Far better should I ponder grimly My faults committed, duties missed. How neat her glove is, and how trime It buttons round her slender wrist! Ah! vain and r is earthly pleasure; No wonder t at our sad hearts yearn To some more high and lasting treasure-— They’re sitting down; perhaps she’ll tum— Thank Heaven, she sees me! She is flinging A sweet, re roachful glance my way. Yes, dear, in eed I have been singing, And now, my saint, I mean to pray. —0ur Continent. :0: MY NEIGHBOR AND 1. Oh, I ity my neighbor over the way, “The as nothing to do but yawn a day; No little hands to tumble her hair, No little “ nuisance ” to vex her with care, No little “ torment ” to worry and tease, Nothing to do but consult her own case. ,- Poor, rich neighbor. I am so for you— ' Sorry. because you have “ not ing to do," Sorry. because as the days go by You are restless and weary, you know not why. And once in a while I can see the trace Of many a tear on your proud, fair face. You see I am only a laborer’s wife. Doing my part in the treadmill of life; Joe my usband, is off all day, Fighting the giants of want away; Ba y and I are bus . too, But we’ve plenty 0 time to be sorry for you. Baby’s a nuisance, a plague, and a joy. But then, you see, he 5 my own sweet boy; I have no time for a groan or a sigh, No time to be idle as the days 0 by; My arms are full as the day is ong, Full as my heart with its happy song. Poor, rich neighbor over the way, Watching my aby and me at p ay' What of your wealth if our heart is bare? _ ’Tis to love and he love that makes life so fair. No. neighbor mine I can tell you true. Indeed, I’d rather be 1 than you. —Ywng Folks' Rural. 20: THE FRONT GATE. An old and crippled ate am I, And twenty years ave p Since I was swung up high and dry Betwixt these posts so fast; But now I‘ve grown so owerful weak—- Despised by man and least-- I‘m scarcely strong enough to squeak, Although I’m never greased. "I‘was twent years ago, I say, When Mr. ‘nos White Came kind of hanging ’round my way ’Most every other night. He hun upon my starboard side And s 19 upon the t other, Till Susan Smith became his bride, And in due time a mother. I groaned intensely when I heard— Despite I am no churl— M ' doom breathed in a single word: ie baby was a. girl! And as she grew and grew and grew, I loud bemonned my fate; For she was very fair to view, And 1—1 was the gate! Then, in due time. a lover came, Betokenin my ruin, A dapper fe ow, Brown by name, The grown-up baby wooin‘! They sprung u on me in the gleam, And talked 0 moon and star! The are married now and live at home A ong with ma and pa. Millet was happy for a year. 0 courting, night or day-— I had no thought I had no fear, Bad liick wouk come my way. But oh! this morning, save the inarkl There came a wild surprise, A shadow flitted grim and dark Across my sunny skies. A doctor with a knowing smile, A nurse. with face serene. A bustle in the house the while. Great Scotti What can it mean? My hinges ache; the lock is weak, .Iy pickets in a whirl; I hear that awful doctor speak: It is another girl! ~Denvir Tri'bunr. \ sash.ch _' . 1.2.3: 4;- «watch-m a. m5; cm-‘did‘kfi .-.='.:. M or u}. m; ‘,-""7:75'.f rots?!" . ' saw“ me. e. is“; - s - -‘ ' b r.‘ .- / «I .x. 4'»;- -:~.«‘ “ yo;— . :- "'1 ..:,. . f .- . . "Altar: v I .p MICK Illiuhilimilll"lhiww" J "lunmmnnw “Wm- l” "Kimmimumtm . O .. D‘Q (9?? l ‘i:. .. “l- . L ‘t/lr'z‘k‘ ‘ (‘3‘ noun ‘ Bull email Published every Monday morning at nine oclock. gards the merits of a letter, correct spelling is an extremely important item; and the youth who is not familiar with the orthography of the English language, or who has spent but a brief time at any school, should make a constant companion of a small “ hand ” or " pocket ” dic- tionary. Composition, too, should be carefully NEW YORK, APRIL 28, 1883. studied: and young people who are ambitious not to appear i norant, and have bright wits, can readily maEe up for lack of education in BEADLE’s WEEKLY is sold by all Newsdealers in the United States and in the Canadian Dominion. Parties unable to obtain it from a iiewsdealer, or those referring to have the paper sent direct, by mail, rom the publication office, are supplied at the following rates: Terms to Subscribers, Postage Prepaid: One copy, four months . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1.00. “ “ one year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 3.00. Two copies, one year 5.00. In all orders for subscriptions be careful to give address in full-—State, County and Town._ The pa- per is always stopped, promptly, at expiration of subscription. Subscriptions can start With any late number. I TAKE NOTICE—In sending money for subscription, by mail, never inclose the currency except in_a re- istered letter. A Post Office Money Order is the est form of a remittance. Losses bymail Will be almost surely avoided if these directions are fol- lowed. E‘All communications, subscri tions, and let- ters on business should be addresse to BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS. 98 WILLIAM Sn. NEW YORK. Take Notice. Serials appearing in this WEEKLYwill not be republished in Library or book form. Back numbers can be supplied by any ne u'sdealer, or sent by mail, prepaid, from the publishers. A STORY or TO-DAY! Gentlemen Scamps and Genteel Rogues! The "Club" that Struck in the Dark! In 011? Next! Exceptionally fine and fascinating as a story of the Great City, with remarkable features both in incidents and actors, viz.: The Telegraph Detectin; THE DYNAMITE LEAGUE. BY GEORGE HENRY MORSE. Bright, fresh and strong, with a perfectly original cast of characters, the author has Struck a. New Vein! Made a. Great Hit! for which we bespeak a high popularity with the lovers of the romance and fact of detective life. The Wide Awake Papers. Of a. Lost Art. IT is a common refrain among the journalists and literary people of the day that letter-writ- ing has become a lost art; and, ion great de- gree, this is without doubt true. In the nature of things it must be so. The days of long and elaborate letter-writing belonged to an age when books were costly and news apers few, when traveling was a tedious and difiicult mat- ter, and when tidings of what was going on in one part of a country were long in reaching some other part of the same country. Then letter-writing was what newspaper correspon- dencies, literary societies, circulating libraries, amusements, and visiting are now. It was as much of an accomplishment, in those times, to write agreeable letters as to s ak a foreign lan- Eiage; an act as full of inten to bestow enter- inment as to take a friend, in these days, to see the latest play or bear the newest 0 re; a sub- stitute for social and friendly visiting. But in an age when steam sends locomotives flying over continents and ships plowing over oceans with a rapidity that is marvelous, and electri- city girdles the earth with a message in a mere trifle of time, and books are published by the thousands, and sold for dimes, and read by millions, and newspapers are as abundant as leaves on trees, the old order of things natural- ly gives place to the new:—to the gaining of identical nowledge through books and papers, to the sending of congratulations and tidings over the telegraph wires, to the exchange of calls and visits instead of the exchange of volu- minous letters. And so among the well-to—do and cultured classes elaborate correspondencies are falling into desuetude: but though the art Of letter- writing may be a lost one, the habit of writing letters will never quite go into a decline so long as any boarding-school misses, politicians, idiots, or lovers, survive in the land; and at present the millennium gives no promise of rapid ap~ preach. Letters, notes, epistles, serawls—call them by what name you please—daily throng the mails and give testimony that letter~writing still flourishes. Alas. however, they also give testimony that letterrwritiug as an “art” is as dead as the proverbial “ door-nail.” It is indeed rare, nowadays, to see a neat, correct, well- written, artistic, and interesting letter. Why, though, the modern epistle should not be, at least, polite and correct as to com~ position, spelling, and punctuation, is incon- ceivable when dictionaries and books on “ How to Write Letters ” are so cheap. and schooling is gratuitous. Certain it is that not one-half the young people of the present day appear to know anything about the ethics, the etiquette. or even the correct forms of letter-writing. Yet these last even the school-child can understand and learn and should be familiar with. If parents and teachers have been so ignorant or remiss as not to instruct their charges in these matters then the girls and boys should have enough, pride and enterprise to learn them for them~ selves. It is really astonishing to see how ig- norant many young men are of the commonest rules regarding letter—writing. Yet they can easily improve, if they will. The most important thing about written com- munications isnot the pen manship. as the anx- iety of many young people for answers to such questions as “How is my writing?” “ What do you think of my penmanship?” would seem to indicate. Many a letter is written in the most ad- mirable(?) English chirography,the most woman- ly (.7) miniature script, the most manly ('l ornate handwriting, that his not another redeeming feature; and as very English, very fine, and very ornamental chirograph y ought to be con— signed to perpetual prescription, such letters might with credit to their writers remain un— written. The penmanship has nothing what- ever tO do with the correctness, the manners— for letter-writing is a merciless mirror of good or bad manners—the ethics, or even the interest of a letter—providing it is not wholly illegible. The acme of excellent nmanship is not a fine nor a handsome “ban ,” but that. which is so easy to read that there is no mistaking a letter nor a word of it; and both young women and young men would better spend hours in study- ing orthography, composition, and punctuation, than waste a minute upon practicmg penmqn- ship beyond the acquiremcnt of a neat, legible style of handwriting. But while handsome this line by reading the books of composition and rhetoric used in the common schools. And even more may be learned by reading Well- written books, papers, and magazines. Punctu- ation is an art. There is no one set of rules by which good writers are governed—every author having a style of punctuation peculiar to her or himself; yet there are a few leading rules which every one may learn and follow. A complete sentence always ends with a period, interioga- tion-point, or exclamation-point, as it is declara- tive, interrogative or exclamatory; and the succeeding sentence must begin with acapital letter. Every abbreviated word must have a period after it—an unalterable and imperative rule which is yet disregarded with astonishing frequency. But it would be impossible to give rules by which the composition and punctuation of let- ters can be governed. It is, however, impera- tive that a letter, or even a note, which lays any claim to being well-written should be cor- rect in spelling and grammatical in composition, and be so punctuated as to make its meaning quite clear. It is equally imperative that the paper and envelope be neat and clean. Avoid erasures, and guard against blots, and use capi- tal letters only where they belong. Do not un— derline words, nor abbreviate words, nor use numerals, in letters. Only the briefest messages, and those of a business character, should be sent upon postal~ cards; and these should have but the most for- mal commencement and signature. To write friendly notes on stals, and commence them “My dear Emma ’ and sign them “Your loving Kate" is extremely bad taste; so it is for a gentleman ever to send a postal—card communi- cation to a lady friend or acquaintance. It is bad taste, too, to use business paper—paper with a firm or company address upon it—for other than business purposes. Friendly, social and formal notes and letters should be written upon plain paper and be inclosed in a plain envelope to match. Especially is this impera- tive in the case of a gentleman writing to a lady. It is very rude to write a note uponahalf sheet of paper, and unpardonably so to write a note with a pencil. The date and the address of the writer should be written at the upper right‘hand corner of the paper, punctuated thus: 139 Elmwood Ave.. Newark. N. J. March 7th. 1883. If the letter is a very friendly one, and inform- al, it may be headed simply: 139 Elmwood Avenue. Thursday. The address is best written out, however, when an answer is required and there is any likelihood of the recipient of the letter not remembering the proper direction. A colon always follows the commencement of a letter, as: “My dear madamz” or, “ dear Jobnz”. The first Word of the letter proper then commences with a c [pita] letter. So much for some of the rules for letter-writ- ing which need to be carefully observed but are almost generally broken; and if any one member of our “W'ide Awake” circle shall profit by them in addressing his next letter to his sweetheart it will be no slight reward for an endeavor to help the modern young man to im- prove upon the modern faulty and impolite but and fac1 old man it. with a d prove. But, it made an farming The tions. also? A sea railroad great co Mr. Tuck four flush too ing his hand Scott casually remarked that his hand was worth $1,000, and “ My hand is worth $3,000," said Mr. Tucker, in a tone whose nervousness caused Mr. Scott to think that perhaps an attempt to blufl was in pro- “Five thousand more,” Mr. Scott said. style of letter'writing. BELLE BRIGHT. Er}???'tgen , __—_ Mr. Scott minished, and be chuckled to himself to think what a snap Tucker had got himself into. The Builders. Shingle’s New Telephone Rules. PEOPLE who use this telephone to circulate scandal in this neighborhood will please remem— her that they will be immediately cut off. You are requested to use no big words, as they may break down the wires, or clog ‘the instru- ments; but not to violate personal rights men will be permitted to have their quarrwls out to their satisfaction, and do all the “ sassing” necessary, and thus be in no danger of coming to blows, or to pistol practice. No whispering allowed over the telephone. This will be considered an insult to the man at the central office' and no yelling over the wires, to wake up and disturb the folks along the line over whose houses it goes. Messages written on paper and chugged into the boxes will be charged extra rates and then burnt up. One who yells “ hello " and gets no response tions, if it is for the first time in your life. This rule will be piously enforced. If any person gets the diphtheria from talking too long to any person who has it, it will be considered a substitute for some other afllict-ion abet might cost a great deal more for doctor’s ills. In talking with a lad at a. long distance a gentleman is not oblige strictly to first make a bow or take of! his hat, but he must not be dressed in his old clothes, out of respect for the sex whose interests this line fully consen es, at. all times. We expect soon to have these lines so per- fected that messages can be sent as readily in German and French as in English without extra. charge. Our wires will be oiled every day so that mes- sa es will go right along without any trouble or de ay on the road. We have everything in such order that mes- sages which freeze on the line can slide through, and the ice will be knocked off them before do. livery. Messages sent out during a rain will be re- ceived and thorough] dried. There is nothing so unhand to ban Is as a water-soaked mes- sage, even if verbal, and if a communication in a storm gets blown off the wires it will be re- covered by sentinels and sent through; and the same if one runs oil? the other end of a wire and gets lost. N 0 man will be allowed to dun another over our lines, as the proprietor don’t like anything of that kind himself. Over this telephone you can order a barrel of eggs with perfect safety, or a load of cord-wood. You can also order a dinner for the operator at the central office. All messages will be thoroughly wired so they will not- fall apart and get scattered. We desire for the people’s sakes that they be careful what they say to each other over these wires, because it will be sure as anything to go from pole to pole in spite of all that we can do. People from the country who mistake the telephone-boxes for lung-testers will take timely warning, as they are in danger of being blown p. No mistakes in grammar will in any case be rectified in transmission, for they will have to go through just as they are given, even if wrong- end first. People who eat onions the machines! If the instrument should happen to be choked up with several messages, be very careful and not get too close, as they might all come out at once and blow your brains out. Hard words are of course very wearing on the wires, and must not be sent. You are allowed to call anybody, not allowed to call him a liar, only risk. If supper is ready and waiting, ring the bell like blnzzs. When you get a summons tyou may know that summOns at the other end 0 the line wanting to talk to you. must keep away from but you are at your own handwriting counts for almost nothing as re- count. side 0 BOSS. ONE of driving is thus narrated: Last fal were being driven across the country from selshell to Billings, on the Northern Pacific Railroad where thgy were to be shipped on the cars for Chicago. here were about ,000 head, will not be permitted to say anything disre— h spectful to parties who do not hear him; and, ggnProgg too, you are required to be civil to your connec- made ‘just At last, fl'lsll of lightning, thunder, and in an instant the whole herd were upon their feet. De Bass, and the the column drove off a few of the leading steers in the direction they were to followed No one will be permitted to talk too long and strain the machine. re .ater. he wires will be kept charged all the time, please take notice that the messages will not be c arng at all. Contagious diseases will not be transmitted at any price. liese lines will offer excellent inducements young men of our city to pop the question to the or to get the old man’s consent. good deal of the usual trouble and confusion, and afford some degrees of distance from the Of course, the char es will be a little extra in such cases, but it wil be worth in the deaf and dumb langua and make as little noise about it as posssble. No one allowed to shoot into one of the boxes of the telephone, for you do not know but your wife’s aunt may be at the other end of the wire. Make the “ Tigers ” Work. Tim Apaches have lately raided Arizona and even penetrated to New Mexico in t scalps, horses and plunder. due these veritable human tigers have thus far been a failure—as their periodic raids of hun- dreds of miles in extent only too painfully gradually dwindling in numbers and power, and the fact that a considerable portion of the tribe in the vicinity cf Fort Apache, Arizona, have tamab e Navajoes was broken by Kit Carson in their terrible defeat by his forces, in 1863. Then for five years the Government maintained them as prisoners at a serious expense as is practically done now in the three great Apache reserva- But in 1869 they were removed to their old country around Fort Defiance, in Western New Mexico. Here they Were provided with sheep. goats and horses, and were encouraged to devote themselves to pastoral and agricul- tural pursuits. Since that time there has been no Navajo outbreak. Permitted to remain unr disturbed, their farming and stock—raising have assumed such large proportions that many among them have acquired considerable wealth. So, why not the “red tigers of the Sierras” from Philadelphia the other day to a leading New York paper, giving the particulars of a game of draw poker between the son of the late Young Scott, we are told, holding three queens, threw a $20 gold-piece into the jack-pot with jacks, and the ten, nine, (one of his jacks being the alternative of drawin Mr. Scott $50 better. out, (threw up their hands.) but young Scott “stuck it out,” inga card got his fourth queen. Thirty thousand dollars more, was the next result of Mr. Scott’s self-consultation. Tucker paused, ran his e es over his hand to see whether it was all right, and apparently went into a mental computation of his bank ac- “I call,” be said, throwing in an “I. O. U.” to balance the pot. Mr. Scott, spreading out the hand and making a move as if to rake “ Not so fast, if said Mr. Tucker. Tucker pocketed $43,000 on that hand. the creek with them, up which the herd was being driven. and thalaucatlgle exhibited some signs of uneasi- r. officer that he had better get his men, wagons, and animals on the opposite side of the creek and out of the way, as he feared there was 0- ing to be a “night run.” The herders were in- structed to keep their horses saddled and be ready to mount at a moment’s notice. tle were very again, and shifting about. , and the herd was soon in full flight. The borders made no effort to check or control them further than to keep them going straight; they rode at the head each side of them swung to the right or left to keep the trail; blu ed, and the open fla ground courted. The run lasted about two hours, when a gorge was bein neared, in which the cattle would crowd and break their limbs. They and the herders determined to eXert their au- thority and stop the run. umn was bent out on the prairie, and circled round and round until the cattle became tied up in a huge ball and could not move at all. In this way they were obliged to stand until morning, the herders riding round and round them, and keeping them com letely tied up. At daylight they were allowedp First, the outer edge scattered, then layer after layer, until the huge pile of beef was a herd grazing as quietly as if nothing had happened. JOHN M. BURKE, familiarly known as “ Ari- zona John,” has accepted the manager for the Hon. W. F. Carver, and Ma “ wild Western ife ” that they are now organiz— ing at North Platte, Nebraska. start in a few days for the camp dians and other component cle are being got together. yesterday he said: “The tended to give to civilized communities an accu- rate representation of how white men and In- dians live in the far West. Sioux and Pawnee Indians, with their entire outfit of squaws, tepees, dogs. ponies. etc., under command of Major Frank North, for a number of years the Captain of a company of Pawnee scouts in the United States service. men have had many a bloody fight with the Sioux. but the hatchet is now buried between the two tribes—at least between those of them engaged for this show. Wherever theygo they will be in camp. the plains. The exhibitions will be in parks and fields, where there is space for ;the Indian en- lities for bashful \ ’5 boot. Bear in mind that in conversing at a distance you must talk only go with the fingers, eaf and dumb man SOLOMON SHINGLE. * All efforts to sub- is also true t' at this wonderful race is appeal to the General Government for tools and seeds is an encouraging sign. wer of the once fierce and almost un- Aristocratic Poker. CIAL telegraphic dispatch was sent king, Tom Scott, and a Mr. Tucker. nfideuce. Tucker, having a pair of and seven of diamonds, also of that suit.) with to his four flush went Al other players pulled saw Tucker’s raise, and draw- Whereupon er s lit his jacks, and drawing to his in the eight of diamonds, mak- a “straight royal flush.” Mr. put that amount in the pot. thousand more,” Mr. Tucker retorted. ’s confidence in his queens was undi- Mr. “ Four queens,” said on the table, in the stakes. you please—a strai ht flush,” Mr. Scott’s face fe l, and Mr. his winnings, something over A Night Run. the incidents of cattle herding and l a large herd of big steers for market Mus- rty of a Mr. De Bass, 1:. very dyoung e evening a military camp he. been ahead of the cattle, and on the same A storm was coming up, e Hass sent word to the military The cat uneasy, getting up, lying down about midnight, there came a sharp followed by a heavy peal of “Mount and whip out!” cried herder who was at the head of go. All the others of the column, one on and precipices were avoid- were now quite fired, The head of the col- to “ Open out.” A Novel “Show.” st of business ody, Dr. W. F. 'or Frank North, in the show of He e cots to wher?the In- parts of the specta- In an interview prOposed show is in- There will be 200 He and his living just as they would on It needs rest like any other ir girls at long-range, It will save a heir quest of campment and for that will form the Carver will shoot Twenty Texan co formances will be 12 elk. It will be start from its cam the latter part of AN Eastern man ness of the business money? Well, I wi and in experience 1877 I ought 1,000 and 30 ponies. the total head of calves. first went in, 400 calves, and sold 812,000. time had cattle on the range. steer, and I could Texas yearlings for ulread y overstocked or a cool $100,000. A MORMON elder she will be the best-e before long. acre. ate upon Americans upon busmess, new and some Americans EDWARD HANLAN, follow her advice._ who called upon him killed and Jesse l gates at six o’clock of barbed wire. The tions, therebeing at head of cattle on the SOME remarkable Paz, Lower terest. taken cember. 0,. schemes even if he i Panama canal on h cessible will be facil now engaged in a personal ins by a letter addressed by the der to the chiefs of the Arab tribes in Southern Tunis and Algeria, so them to give the inde cordial support. Carver. Oklahoma Payne, will join in shooting contests horseback, show how road-algents rob stage— coaches in the mountains, an will give exhibitions of Ind bin in hunts and battles, tween white and red-men in the West. and twenty Mexican vaqueros will accompany the show to give ex- hibitions. Among the animals that are to ac- company the show and take part in the “ Cattle Culture." met one of the cattle kings Cheyenne the other had made his pile and gone out of cattloraising, and he sat down to give the Eastern mana little of the true inward- Of Wyoming Territory in day. The cattle king “You have come toChe the cattle business, to know how the cattleraisers m turned loose on the ran e winter, which was a very per cent. The first summer At the end of the first year 1,050, and on my books 1,450, which represented The second year I lost 100 head a $5,000. At the end of the third yearI had on the range 1,480 cattle, and on my books 2,100. The fourth year I lost ten per cent., lranded 450 calves and sold 400 two and three- ear old steers and dry cows for $12 000. range at the end of this year 1,380 head, and on my books 2,150. The fifth cent., branded 400 calves, that was fat. and some cattle that were not, for I then had on and on my books 2,150. My expenses up to this been about 82,000 a year. or 810,000 altogether. At the end of five years I had drawn out of the herd $29,000. back and had over 1,000 only cost me six dollars to raise'a three-year-old y to forty dollars, but the range was getting bad, and a l the ranges in the Territory bein was no new place to move to. dry summer and hard winter, my books, which made 4,1 to Cheyenne to find a buyer. tenderfoot, fresh from New knocked off from my books 150 head for loss, and sold the rest for twenty-five dollars per head, “If you go into the cow business, you want to take care of your books, and do not, under any circumstances, admit losing cent. in the hardest winter.’ “’ Focused Pacts. THE whipping—post for wife-boaters is to be set up in Illinois. The brutal husband must pay all the costs of prosecution. Tim Southern newspapers report that the planters in that section are sowing more wheat and corn than ever before. make cotton their surplus crop. THE season’s cut of lumber in the ine forests of Northern Wisconsin is estima 000,000 feet by the Milwaukee Sentinel, about 15 per cent. below last fall’s expectations. Tenn., making arrangements for shipping con- verts to Utah. Mormonism is gaining so man adherents in that section that twenty additional missionaries have been set to work there. TEXAS looks at her school fund and thinks The In $4,000,000 in interest-bearing bonds and money, and 30,000,000 acres of land worth $1.50 per AMERICANS in China are feeling the full force of the Chinese Emigration bill, every means be- ing taken by the Chinese Government to retali- able and agreeable to leave man, says he only l:arned to swim last summer. e can now swim only a little, the muscles of his arms quickly becoming tired—a singular confession, he admits, for His wife wants him to retire from the sculling profession, and he says he thinks he will soon MR. FRANK JAMES, exhighwayman and cut~ throat, does not entertain "an unkind thou ht toward Governor Crittenden,” as it may seem. “ But,” he remarked the other day in a tone of deep solemnity to a r would have been in his grave long ere this.” As a sample of the extent of the fenced acres in the Territory, a party of gentlemen in the Indian Territory on a hunting 9 eastern gates of a pasture in the morning. and traveling westward during the day passed through this is only one of several large pasture the Indian Territory. Drum alone has sixty miles of fence. fences are built of cedar posts and three strands dian Territory has grown to immense pro present no less than 200,000 pearls lately found near La California, have excited much in- Three such extraordinary events have place during the past month. Probably the largest pearl on record, weighing seventy- fivo carats. was found toward the close of De- The fisherman $14,000, which, however, was an insignificant sum Compared with its real value. Now comes the announcement that one of the fishermen em- ployed has just discovered a finely-tinted and perfectly-formed pearl weighing forty-seven carats, and valued on the spot at $5.000; while yet another pearl was found about the same time, smaller than the former, but of perfect sum»? weighing forty carats and valued at De Lsssnrs does not hesitate northern Africa viewing the ground for the stupendous geographical metamorphosis of the Desert of Sahara into an inland sea. This new sea, as now projected. will cover a basin fifteen times as large as the Lake of Geneva; the mois- ture engendered by its tracts of desert land approach to valuable forests now wholly inac- Of the projec'ed inland sea and calling upon the illustrative performances show’s attraction. “ Capt. Bogardus, the pigeon-shooter, and Dr. Buffalo Bill, Dr. and Major North , both afoot and on matches. wboys 20 buffaloes, 1 y. ” have you? And ll tell is a common one here. Texas cows, 50 grade bulls, They cost me, branded and , $10,000. The first ard one, I lost forty I branded 400 calves. stock I had handled so far. year the range was 200 dry cows and heifers for Ha on the year I lost fifteen per and sold everything the range 1,200 head, I had got all my money half—breed or improvod From this time on it would sell him for thirt taken up there was afra d of a so I bought 2,000 $28,000, turned them on my range and added them to 50 head. I then came I soon found a York city. I more than three per They intend to at 1,595,- has been in Chattanooga, ducated State in the Union nd now consists of over . Restrictions are placed enterprises are forbidden, have found it more profit- the country. the famous Canadian oars— a sculler to make. not one, singu ar rter in his cell, “if I ha been eft, Governor Crittenden dition entered the eld at eight o’clock one of the western in the evening, and yet fields in It is said that Magm- he cattle business of the In- PO!" range. sold it on the spot for at new gigantic s an old man and has the is hands. He is now in presence will bring vast into cultivation, and an itated. e Lesseps it ection, fortified mir Abd-el-Ka- tting forth the advantages fatigable Frenchman their with the Indians ian polo games and as battles are fought P01" 20 ponies, and impossible for the show to on the North Platte before yenne to investigate you want ake their you how I made mine, In I had on the range nd branded 450 1 then had on the range 1,400, and on my books 1,900. The third eaten out, or at least was not so fresh as when I and I lost twenty per cent., branded Correspondenis’ Column. [This column is O ien to all correspondents. in- qulrlcs answered as tully and as romptly as Circum- stances will permit. Contributions not entered as “declined " may be considered scce ted. No MSS. returned unless stamps are inclosedf Declined: “Mackerel Fishing;” “A Double-Twist- ed Yani;" “ The Great Catch of the Molly:" " White Ca 8;” “ 0n! and On'" "Joe‘s Big Bl d;" " chli Times;" " Down-Stairs Rumbles;" " A Successfu Ruse;" "A Waiting Mam” “Record No. 2;" “A Steamboat Discharge;” “The Well-Served Guest;“ "In Full Satisfaction;” " Her Best Reward. " GEO. 0. We have not the " Songster " mentioned. Buck Mem his. We know Of no recipe for black ink that oesnot use nutgalls, vitriol or gum. ASKING. _ John Brown—the Queen‘s John Brown— was flft -3ix ye old. He was her body-guard or persona attends. . See a notice of him in our "W eekly Miscellany.” FRANK W. B. Write to Land Office Diviion. In‘ tenor Department, Washington, D. (3., for rules and regulations for Land Entries. Government has lands in almost every Territory and State, west of the Mississippi river, open to entry. J. C. C. The “country editor ” was a silly egotist to write you such advice. A considerable number of such fellows lget editorial positions only to dis— cover, after awh' e. that their “ true vocation is the blacking of stoves." Giunaimn. The spinet was the precursor of the piano-forte. The first piano was made at Padua, in tel , in 1711, by Christofori. The first one seen in Eng and was made by Father Wood. a monk, and very few were made there until after 1700. V. V. Dreams have no “laws of interpretation.“ In the case mentioned the wish doubtless was “ fa- ther to the thought "; and if that dream ever should come true it will prove not so much the actual fore- cast of dreams as the power Of strong feeling to ef- fect certain results. SHAKESPEARE. We know nothing of either firm. and think your inference is correct—As to such dealers as you mention we say—trust them not. If you have oor health never seek a patent-medicine remedy. ake only the advice and treatment of a well-known physician. GERALD K. Seeanswer just ab0ve. We have no knowled e of such a firm. and would not advise any money risk with them.—The machinist trade is a most excellent one—No "air shi ” ever passed over Ohio. No balloon ever passe over the whole length of the State. R. H. A “tobo an party,"is a “ coasting-party, and a “ toboggan ‘ is a three-cornered sled. Amon the Canadians the word is also 5 elled “tarbogin, ’ and means a sled made of a pllllb e board and turned up at both ends; also. “ a sleigh or sledge to be drawn by dogs Over soft and deep snow." R. G. L. There is no by-road or secret passage to literary success. Only downright merit in wha you write will be the open sesame to paper or magazine. Write z:our best; send it to the paper, and if it is desiiab matter it will be used an paid for. All our authors have won their places by the superior character of their work. Lxrxrma SOPH. The size of the head does not determine brain power. Some of the most brilliant authors orators. artists and mechanicians have had heads of medium or below the aver: e measure. It is brain quality not brain quantity t at makes the man. As in squashes—the bigger the growth the coarser the fiber. as a rule! MARY L. A young lady who does not contemplate marriage is entirely right in not permitting one man to monopolize her society. If the gentleman is per- sistent or “ jealous,“ she should firmly assert herself and receive the attentions of other gentlemen, even to his exclusion. A lady, in fact, is compromised to a degree who goes with one gentleman exclusively. It is a sign that she is either engaged or does not wish for any other societ . VINCENT. It makes no difl'erence that a lady walks upon the outside of the walk b ' the crossing of the street. A gentleman must not eep changing at the corners. Itis proper for him to walk either u n the left or the right side of the lady. He determ ncs his position by p acing her u n that side which is most convenient for her. an which will render her most safe.—Certainly you may go to a friend‘s wed— ding while you are in mournin . After the third month any quiet entertainment is permissible. and after six months you may mingle in society consid- erably. “Ton AND JERRY." You must both answer sepa- ratrly. of course—You should not take any uninvited person or persons to the wedding rece tion with you. A lady may invite a gentleman frien to act as her escort to a wedding reception—it being understood that she cannot go unattended; but gentlemen must not thrust upon the a uaintance of the bride female acquaintances which 6 may not care to cultivate however respectable—Wear full dress to the even- ing recegion—black bmadcloth suit, low-cut vest, swallow- il coat, black silk or lisle thread socks, pumps, and white tie. Lori; M. “Sister Louise " belonged to the Prof» estant Episcopal Sisterhood. Her name was Louise Gardner Hall—A woman should be ermitted to do anyl work which is to her taste and or which she is we fitted—Dr. Dix to the contrary, notwithstand- ing. Her freedom of action should no more be re- stricted than a man’s.——Unless you have a decided talent (not taste) for music, it will not “pay " as a profession. Good musical instruction is very ex- pensive.—Bein well “ over age." of course your earnings are w Olly your own, and you are entitled to the ‘ rivacy of a boarder" when you contribute your f share to the family fund. Euom. “Swedish” gloves are gloves of un- dressed kid, now very fashionable for ladies. The French call them gante du Suede. Gentlemen do not wear them. Gentlemen wear gloves of Chamois- skin and of castor beaver; but t e present fashion- able glove for gentlemen is of dog-skin or substan- tial kid, heavily stitched upon the back in black or some dark contrasting color. Two or three buttons aroused at the wrists. Gentlemen no longer wear loves with full dress. This fashion, set by the 'nce of Wales a few seasons ago, has become ex~ tremer popular and general. I you make a call in a business or walking suit, you wear the walking gloves above mentioned. strs C. Acxim. Your friends are bound to call on you. after your rrceprion. before you and your wife call on them. You do not make calls merely in acknowled ent of attendance at your reception. The guests w 0 were invited to your wedding owe you a call within a few days (or weeks, at most) af— ter your return from your wedding-trip, irrespective of whether they were at the church. or the rece tion, or both. or neither. And all such calls your- self and wife must promptly return; but you owe no call to people who neglect this personal call upon you—In returning our wedding-calls use a medium- sized card inscri : Mn. AND Mas. Lawn; C. Acxm BIG BROTHER. Weagree with your sister. It is not “shameful for a oung lady not to know how to lay the piano.” It is more shameful to try to play It and to play it illy. If 1y‘our sister does not care to learn music. but would e to have you spend the money in seem-in her a college education, or allow- ing hers thoroug course of study in some branch of art, on are unjustifiable in insisting that on will only a ow the money to be spent on piano essons. If shehss no ear for music and no especial liking for it, she will never be anything but an auto matic p'l'aifier. and ears of study and hundreds of dollars accomg h for her nothing but an abil- ity to play. mach e—like. some dance mimic and a few set pieces. The same time and money expended on some study, la e. art, trade or rofession would enable your Sister to become an ependent. self-supporting. perhagbfamous woman. t is you who are wrong and a selfish. Help her to gain advantages in some line which is congenial to her and for which she has enthusiasm and an aptitude. FACIOBY 1301!. We take great pleasure in at swer- ing suci letters as yours, and in giving all help pos- sible to one whois so ambitious to be gentlemanly and well-informed. No; we do not advise you to at- tempt many studies. It on mambitious to_ follow any particular line of t ougln or information. we shall be lad to recommend t e best books to study and If you want to be generally well-in- formed, vou should read an excellent dail . r— such as ' cusses the political, social. and ncidental news of all countries, and reviews popular books. lectures, plays, music, art. and scienti c views. If on cannot afford to take such a paper—as the New ork Dail Time: or Tribune. or even the weekly edition 0 such a paper—alone, try to get some friends to club with you. You can thus found a club or reading-chow for discussing what you have mutuall perused. To learn to speak correctly, use the cho 1: language on know. notice the con- struction of sentences in well-written pers and books. and tryto ak like the best pub c speakers and best educatet private individuals you know. Read the best books—histories, biographies of famous persons. travels. essays, and novels you can procure. In ten, fifteen. and twenty-cent paper books you can get much excellent reading—books by Scott, ules Verne. Dickens, George Eliot. Thackera . Will— lam Black, R. D. Blackamore, Thomas Carlyv 9. Cer- vantes, J. Fenimore Cooper, Benjamin D’Israeli, Froude, J. R. Green Thomas Hughes, Victor Hugo, Charles Kingsley, T. B. Macaula . George Macdon- ald—comprisin novels, travels, istory and biogra- phy. .If possib e, join a library—The groundwork of etiquette is cleanliness, neatness, unselfishness, cons‘ant thought to lease and help others. Never .9, do that which is vu ar. unclean, or even possibly ofiensive to those around you! I v (fin In», , is 4 ' ; w “NW”... 4‘- y . I, “23‘ a." if Fireside Ballads. THE NEW MINISTER. BY H. H. JOHNSON. ‘ Well, Sui-y, we‘ve got our new preacher All set ed as slick as a pin; The neighbors turned out utty gin’rous, And soon got his goods a moved in. But, Sarggou needn’t say nothin’, But I t ' k they are terribly poor— Their things looked so awfully common, Not better than ours, I’m sure. And, Sary, I b‘lieve we shall like them, They acted so friendly and good; In uttin’ up stove-pipes and bedsteads, e both helped us all that they could And, ary, you mustn’t git jealous If I brag of the minister‘s wife, But she’s got jusc the purtiest of faces That ever I‘ve seen in my life. She don’t look much more than a baby Herself, she’s so teeny and sm But she knows how to work, I can tell you, And that is the best of it all. She tried to look smilin‘ and happy, And worked herself most out of breath A-gittin’ us men folks our suppler; I know she was tired to deat . I tell you she fixed up the vittals So everything tasted just right; I alwa s thought you good at cookin’, But b’lieve she can beat you a mite; And she sot there so smilin’ and rosy, A-passin’ the tea and the bread, And we men folks a—eatin’ so hearty, It just done her good, so she said. The after we got through our supper, An was talkin’ of comm’ awav, The preacher he took down the Bible, And read, and then knelt down to pray; And, Sary, I don’t think that ever I’ve heard in my life such a prayer: It come from the heart of the preacher, And touched every one that was there. They thanked me for what I had helped ’em, And asked me so much about you, And told me to call on them often, And bring you along with me, too. SO I guess, 'ust as soon as they‘re settled, We’ll hitc up old Dolly and Sam, And drive up and make ’em a visit, And take them some ’taters and ham. I pity these Methodist preachers; he hain’t got no home of their own; I thin we‘d all like it much better If Conference would leave them alone. Just as soon as we get so we like them, And feel so we want them to sta , Their two or three years is expired' , And Conference sends them away. And, Sary, I can’t help but pity The Methodist ministers’ wives; This movin‘ all over the country, I think must just wear out their lives. But yet, they ’most always seem happy, And contented with what the have got; But if you was in their places, ary, You would grumble, think, at your lot. I like our good Methodist doctrine; I b’lieve it‘s the best of them all; But I wasn‘t cut out for a preacher, And am glad that I hain t got a call; For, I’d rather work hard all my lifetime, And live on a crust and a bone, Than be movin’ about as a preacher, And not have a home of my own. But I s’pose there’s a home in the futur’ Where the Methodist preacher will go, And live through the ages eternal When his work is all done here below; And I s’pose that the good Lord of Heaven, Rememberin‘ her troubles in life, Will save a bright home there in Glory For the Methodist minister's wife. The Magic Ship; The Freebooters of Sandy Hook. A Tale of Fiction, founded upon Fact, in the History of the earlier days of New York and its adjacent waters. BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM, mos or “run LEAGUE OF THREE," “BUFFALO m’s snip,” “MERLE, rm: murmurs,” ETC. CHAPTER XVI. THE SPY’S CHASE. WHEN Colonel Bertie Grayson left the Sher- wood mansion, it was by a side-door through the library-hall, and he gained an exit from the east wing, and was at the corner of the house by the time the Lily of the Light house de- scended the broad stone steps leading from the front portal. He saw the maiden go rapidly along the gravel walk, with its row of box-trees on either side, and, gaining the street, to turn toward the North, or Hudson river. It was but a short walk to the water’s edge, and there she s rung into a boat that was moored against t e river-bank, and quickly a tiny sail was raised and the prow turned south- ward. A fair breeze was blowing, and the light skifl’ glided along at a. ra id rate. But the colonel ept it in sight as he went swiftly along the street at a pace that few of his fashionable friends would have believed him capable of. At length he came to a point off which lay a small schooner, evidently a pleasure—craft, from her rig and build. The surf-skiff had already passed the sloop and was fiyin away on her course, which still lay southwar , as though going down the bar— bor, or around the Battery and up the East riVer. “Ho, the Sea Feather, ahoy!” sung out the colonel, in tones that sounded as though they had often rung on the quarter—deck. No answer was returned, and again the colo- nel hailed, and more loudly than before. Still no response. “Curse the lazy lubbers, they are all asleep or drunk,” said the colonel, and a glance at the surf-skiff showing him that it was fast disap- aring in the darkness, he looked hastily about or some sign of a boat. But none could be seen, and a third time his voice hailed: “ Ho! the Sea Feather! hol” But the bail brought no response, and, with an angry exclamation, the colonel again bent his gaze upon the receding sail-boat. It was barely visible, and, determined not to be beaten, he buttoned his fashionably-cut coat closely around him, pulled his but down hard over his e es, and sprung boldly into the river. Bertie rayson was a powerful swimmer, and a few strong strokes carried him to the side of the yacht, and he threw himself upon deck amidships, and strode aft to the companionway, out of which a bright light shone. Then there came to him voices in conversa- tion, and springing down into the cabin be con- fronted a party of four men seated at the table gambling with dice, and with pipes in their mouths, and bottles and glasses at their hands. They were dressed in sailor-rig, and at sight of him sprung to their feet in alarm, while one, who appeared to be the leader, cried out: “ The captain !” “ Yes, you riotous bounds, and this is the way I catch you, drinking my liquors, and enjoying yourselves in my cabin when I am away. “ Loyd, you are not fit to act as master of this craft, and I will see that you do not disgrace the berth longer.” “ Mercy, captain! I will not offend again,” cried the man addressed as Loyd. But Colonel Grayson stepped to a small desk, and unlocking it with a key taken from his pocket. took out a pair of steel manacles. “Hold out your hands and step here, sir!” be said, sternly, motioning for the man to approach themizzen-mast, which went down through the forward end of the handsomely furnished and commodious cabin. Silently the man obeyed, and seizing his hands, the colonel dragged them on either side of the mast, and quickly clapped the manacles upon the wrists. “Now get on deck, you rascals, and set sail, and hOist the anchor, and lose no time about it, either !” The three seamen obeyed with an alacrity that showed they stood in holy awe of their commander. Following them upon deck, the colonel asked: “ Brace, where are the others Of the crew ’9’” “ Ashore, sir.” “Getting drunk. I suppose; but I’ll sail with- out them,” and Colonel Grayson took a glass he had brought out of the cabin, and narrowly searched the waters for the surf‘skifi’f. “Hal I see her, and she is heading for the Narrows. “ Do you wish me to help you, you lubbers, get that little piece of iron out of the mud ?” It was very evident that the men did not, for they hauled the anchor up as he asked the ques- tion, and With her jib and mainsail set, the trim lit.le schooner of thirty tons began to forge through the waters. To set the foresail and topsails was then but a few minutes’ work, for the men wished to re— deem themselves in their captain’s eyes. and 3.1851 the little pleasure craft flew along like a ir . Her owner took the helm himself, and held her straight upon her course d0wn the river, the Wind being fair upon herstarboard quarter. Past the Battery she went, and then laid her course for the Narrows, getting better wind as she reached the upper harbor. . “ I am gaining on the girl, but her boat sails like a witch,” muttered the colonel, who often raised the glass to his eye, and bent it upon the surf skiff, all Of half a league ahead. But, although it was true the Sea Feather was gaining upon the surf-skiff, it was so slowly that the colonel saw that he could not overhaul the little craft before it had passed through the Narrows. “ The wind is too light for the Feather, and just what the skiff wants. “ But I’ll hold on as long as there is a breath of wind, and Heaven grant it does not fail me, as it threatens to do,” he muttered. And on the two fleet crafts went, while the wind seemed gradually failing, a fact that pre- vented the schooner from gaining as rapidly as before. Through the Narrows the wind was fitful and light, and shortly after the Feather had passed through to the Lower Bay, it died almost away. 3 “ Curses! the wind has left us!” cried the colonel. “ No, sir, for there is a ripple about the bows yet,” said one of the men. “It will not last,” he said, impatiently, and then added with strange earnestness for so slight a reason it seemed: “ But I’ll not be foiled! “ Lower away that boat, you lubbers, and be ready to spring to your places in it!” “ Ay, ay, sir,” called out the men in chorus, and the boat hanging at the stern davits was the next moment alongside of the schooner. “ Go forward and let go the anchor as I luff!" came the next order. The schooner came slowly round, for she barely had headway, and the next instant the colonel cried: “Let go!” Down with a splash went the anchor, and then the sails were let fall with a run, and the colonel sprung into the little boat alongside, and was quickly followed by the men. “ Seize your oars and pull as though for your lives 1” came the stern order, and away the boat started, making the water hiss about her bows, and leaving a foamin wake. With his glass at is eye the colonel soon caught sight of the skiff ahead, and cried: “She has lowered her sail and taken to her oars. “ Overtake that skifl’, you devils, if you wish to be forgiven for rur work this night!” The men proved, that they did wish to gain forgiveness for their 3 rec. and bent to their ours as though pulling or their lives. After a moment the colonel said, umpha ntl y: “ You are gaining, lads, though the girl pulls with marvelous power and spee .” And he smiled grimly, as each stroke of the oars brought them nearer to the surf-skiff. tri— CHAPTER XVII. CATCHIJG A TABTAR. “PULL, lads! pull! and I forgive you your spree in my cabin,” cried the colonel, hoarsely, as he saw the surf-skiff suddenly swerve from her direct course, and head over toward the Coney Island shore. The boat fairly leaped from the water at every tremendous stroke of the oars. and there was no doubt but that they were gaining upon the skiff, yet the colonel feared the young girl might reach the shore and escape in the dark- ness before he could come up. “A month’s wages to each of you, if you overhaul the skiff,” he cried, and this incentive made the panting sailors forget their fatigue and pull the harder. “ Ha! she has ceased rowing. “What does she mean?" he said, suddenly, as he saw the cars hell by the maiden poised in the air an instant, and then laid asidc. “ Can a breezzbe spifiiging up!” he muttered, and he scanned the w. ters upon every side to see if there was a ripple upon the calm surface. “ No, there is not a breath of air. “ that can the girl mean?” I i . As though in answer to his question he heard - in ringing tones: “ Boat ahoy l” “ Ahoy the skid l” be promptly answered. “ Are you in chase of me?” came the query in the same rich tones. “ 1 am,” was the reply. “ Then I warn you to keep off, or I will fire upon you,” came in determined tones. In spite of the threat the colonel laughed, while he said, as though in high good-humor: “ Lads, that is good, isn’t it? “ Why she hails and threatens as though she were captain of a cruiser.” Then raising his voice he answered: “ I mean you no harm, lady.” “I have warned you off, and I am armed, so beware l” was the decided response. “ I desire a word with you, and upon my honor mean you no harm ” he said, earnestly. “ This is no place to see me, sir.” “ Tell me then where I can see you.” “Nowhere,” and the light oars again fell in the water. “Give way, men,” said the colonel, in a low tone, for the boat had been at rest while the bail and responses were going on. At the first fall of the cars the young girl again cried, and in avoice that was in deadly earnest: “ Hold! if you follow in my wake I will fire!” “ Cease rowing, men! for the li tle Sathaness means what she says,” said the colonel, and then he called out, as a happy thought seized him: “Will you bear a message to Captain Sher- wood for me?” “ Ah! I know you now—you are the gentle- man I saw at the Sherwood mansion,” said Lily. “,I am, and I trust now you will not fear me. “ Why have you followed me?” “ To see if I could persuade you to tell me all about poor Sherwood, for I feared there was something you cared not to tell to his mother.” “ You are mistaken, sir, for I told her all I intended to, and can say no more to you,” coldly re lied Lily. She had made no effort now to row away, and the boat had come alongside of the skiff. “ I am glad then that it is no worse, for I feared that the captain might be seriously hurt.” “ No he will be himself again in a few days.” “ And you will not permit me to go with you to him?” “ I will not, sir.” “ Is this decided?” “ It is.” “Suppose I follow you?” “ Overtake that skifi'. you devils, if you wish to be forgiven for your “ I shall not go there then.” “ You cannot stay out upon night?” “ I will stay here a week, rather than let you conquer my determination,” came the firm re- the water all y- . . “ You are given to stubbornness, gir ,” said the colonel, with some degree of anger. “ And you are perSistent to rudeness, sir,” was the prompt rejoinder. The colonel winCed under this shot and glanced at his crew, to see if they could appreciate it, while he said steruly: “ I have it in my power to capture you, and force from your lips the secret.” “ You will find that you have caught a Tar- tar, and that my lips are as non—committal as though death’s seal were upon them.” “ Girl, you are incorrigible.” “ And you, sir, are insulting.” “ By Heaven! but you shall not conquer me 1” “One moment, please,” she cried quickly, as be grasped her oar. “ Well?” “ You came from yonder yacht, which fol- lowed me down the harbor?” “ I did.” “ The yacht lay off Chambers street as I came by, did it not?” “It did.” “ \Vho is its Owner?” “ I am.” He saw her start, and then in a low, earnest tone came the words: “Are you Colonel Bertie Graysonl” H I am.” “Then I trust you will see the propriety of not pursuing me further, when I tell you that the Sea W'izsrd was in port last night. ’ It was the man’s turn now to start, and he asked. quickly: “ What mean you, girl?” “ Just what I say, sir.” “ Quick! tell me who you are?” “ One who knows ju:t who Colonel Bertie Grnysou is, and who dares him to follow her, if he wi3hes her to utback to New York and visit the mansion she eft a short while ago.” “Girl, I will know more about you, for—” “ngvare! I am armed!” and he saw that a i:tol covered his heart. II 3 released his grasp upon her oar, and drop ping her pistol, she seized it and sent her skiff flying away, while she called out, in mocking tones: “ Good-night, Colonel Gruysonl “Follow me. ifycz'. dare I" T is thwarted mun uttered on oath, and stern- ly ordered his men to give way. But he put his tillcr hard down, and the boat heads! back for the schooner, the colonel in no amiable frame Of mind at having been thwarted by a young girl. CHAPTER XVIII. THE Lovnn‘s THREAT. IT was the afternoon of the day following the seene of the chase described in the foregoing chapter, that Captain Robin Sherwood sat at a window in a small, but cosey room overlooking the ocean. It was the little sitting-room of the Sandy Hook light—house, and everything about it, not- withstanding that one would believe it the home of people in the humble walks of life, had an air of refinement resting upon it. As the small stone house, adjoining the light- house proper, had but four rooms in it, the young officer had been given the parlor, or sit- ting- room, the settee having been arranged as a bed for him by Mrs. Lennox. When taken to her home by Lily, he had been warmly Welcomed by the mother, whom he found to be a sud-faced woman, bearing traces of having once been very beautiful, and still possessed of a refinement of manner and beauty which some deep sorrow she seemed to have known in the past, had not obliterated. She met Lily at the water’s edge as the boat touched, and hearing who her companion was, aided him, with the maiden’s assistance, to her humble home, saying as she sunk down into a chair: “ Now, Lily, go and fetch the village doctor, for you can get back with him by night.” “ No, no, I beg of you, for I am simply bruised up a little, my dear madam, and will come round all right with rest,” said Robin Sher- wood. But Lily thought that perhaps some medicines and salves would aid in the recovery of the pa— tient; so she told him that every month she had to go up to the city for stores, and would get for him what he wished. As the young officer found that she was de- termined to go, he bade her seek his home and tell his mother that he was alive, for he knew that Lieutenant Lonsdale would re port him as dead upon the arrival of the brig Off the city. “And kindly let her know where lam, and Colonel Bertie Grayson, who owns a pleasure- yacht, and is in love with my sister Corinne, will be only too glad to sail them down to see me,” he added. At this Lily looked troubled, and watching her face he saw it, so asked: “Have I said aught to displease you, Miss Lennox?” “ Oh, no, only I do not wish your friends to come here.” “ Then they shall not, so do not say where I am; but I knew they would take me away, so that I would not trouble you and your good mo- ther more.” . I “ No, no, you are not the slightest trouble to either mother or myself, and if ou can only put up with our humble hospita 'ty for a few work this night!” ' days, I will sail you up to the city as soon as you are able to go.” “ Indeed will I be gla-l to remain, for your little home is a delightful haven of rest tome. “So do not tell them where I am, but say I will soon return.” And thus it was settled, and the result the reader knows. It was long after midnight when Lily returned to the light-house, and she sunk to sleep, utterly worn out. And all the following day Robin Sherwood had not seen her, for her mother reported to him that she had slept until a late hour, and had Eben gone off in her skiff to catch a mess of sh. Late in the afternoon Lily returned, and the supper-table was wheeled into the sitting-room, where the guest could get at it, and the three sat down to a meal that a New England farmer mi ht have envied. -fter tea Mrs. Lennox departed to attend to the lighting of the light in the tower, and Robin Sherwood and the maiden were alone. It was nearly sunset, and the young officer was reclining upon his sofa, gazing one moment out upon the sea, and the next into the eyes of his lovely young hostess. “ You were kind enough, Miss Lennox, to say that you told my mother of my being alive; but will you tell me something of your visit to my home, whom you saw there, and all that might interest me?” said Sherwood, pleasantly: Lily was silent for an instant, and then said: “I arrived when your mother was mourning you as dead; but she granted me an interview, and I was ushered into a room where I met Mrs. Sherwood, your sister, a young lady—” “ Describe her, please." “Very beautiful, stately. haughty, and with black eyes and golden hair.” “ Thank you: it was Miss Celeste Cerras,” and his f ice flu~hcd slightly, a circumstance that did not cscnpe the keen eye of the maiden. “ \Vus anv one CIT? present?” he asked. “ Yes, a Colonel Gruyson.” “ Ah yes, an English ex-nrmy officer, who is very sweet on my pretty sister Corinne.” “There was no one else, and I gave my tidings, and left.” “Were they not a little surprised that you did not tell where I was?” “Yes, a litilc— Ali!” “ \tht is it 3" he askel quickly, as he saw her start suddenly, and he follOch her look, which was out upon the spa. “Only that pretty vessel that just came into sight,” she said, composndly, pointing to a ship that was then visible a league (if. “My rank nuainct a cox~:wuin’s berth that it is the Magic Sip!” he cried. excitedly, as his eyes fell upon the strange craft. “Do you mean that mysterious vessel often seen in the offing. and which none of the cruisers have been able to capture?” she asked. “Yes; you have heard of her, then?” “ Often, Sir.” “ I would give my fortune to capture that craft, and solve the niysterv, for she is the one that wrecked my brig, as I was so taken up with chasing her, I failed to See the storm com- ing down aSLern until it struck us.” “Indeed! and you then lost sight of the— the Magic Ship?" “Yes, until now, and I can swear craft is one and the same. “ See, she is standing out to sea again.” The vessel referred to did change her course as the young oflicer spoke and stood seaward until she disappeared in the gathering dark- yonder ness. But Lily kept her place at the window, and often her eyes tried to pierce the darkness upon the waters. At length she saw a shadowy object offshore, which soon took the shape of a vessel under sail. She was running slowly along, under easy sail, and after watching her closely a few min- utes, the while conversing with Sherwood, the maiden gave a sigh of relief, as though she had recognized the strange sail as not being the one tslilat the young Officer had said was the Magic 1p. Passing on out of the view of the window, the vessel rounded the Hook, and running close inshore, taking in sail as she went, dropped her anchor noiselessly and came to a stop. A moment after a boat left her side, and standing up in the stern was a single occupant, who sculled it rapidly shoreward. Out upon the sandy beach he sprung, and drawing the boat half its length out of the wa- ter, he walked toward the light-house. He had seen the light from the open window, as he sailed by, and around that way he went, to suddenly stop short, raise his hand to his head, and utter a suppressed cry. A moment he stood thus, and then from his lips broke the words in a savage hiss: “She is untrue to me, and her punishment shall be to see him die before her eyes I” (To be continued—commenced in No. 20.) A HUNDREDIEARS HENCE. BY MAY LESTER. We hear it said, ’Twill matter not, A hundred years from now What we have thought, or what have done, Where we have lived, or how. Can this be so? When in the dust Our bodies have been laid, Will the life we have lived on earth From every record fade? I cannot think that this is so— But rather—that each deed That helps the world to better grow Will be like recious seed. Which being ropped in fertile soil A bounteous cro will yield. And year by year its wealth will show Upon the harvest field. Each truth our humble pen has said In hearts will leave its trace. Results three times a hundred years Will fail to quite erase; And every deed of wrong we do— Each evil thought instilled Within a pure and trusting mind, With endless woe is filled. If we have taught a little child The path of wrong to shun May not its life to others teach The lesson well begun? From old, by young, the truth is learned, From mind to mind thoughts flow; Our having lived mug matter much, A hundred years from now! ' Jasper Ray, The Journeyman Carpenter; ‘ on, One Man as Good as Another in America. A Story of How a Caipent'r Made His Way in the World. BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF “JOHN ARMSTRONG, MECHANIC.” CHAPTER XV. AFTER THE EXPLOSION. HOW Stephen Percy had come to be there was no mystery, for both Miss Wallis and the young carpenter had had their faces toward the folding doors at which they had expected "Mrs. Van Cott, and their backs were turned to the side door. Jasper Ray started as if an insect had stung him, and turned on his rival for one moment as if he were going to strike him, but the 'next be controlled himself at the thought of his own false position, and drew back to the other side of the table, while Percy continued, in the same bitterly sarcastic tone: “No, don’t force him to speak, Miss Wallis. He does not want to, of course! He is not try- ing to inveigle an heiress, of course! Don’t force him to own that he is a. traitor as well as a fortune—hunter.” Jasper, in all his own emotion, could not help noticing the marvelous calm of Edith Wallis. She had not so much as turned her head or started at the sound of Percy’s voice, but sat with one tiny slippered foot on the brass fender-rail, gazing at the blazing wood fire as if she had not heard a word of the bitter ad- dross. When Percy had ended, she turned her head to look at him, inquiring scornfully: “Well, have you done?” “No,” returned the young man, pale with jealous rage, “not till that scoundrel is turned out of the house. I’ll—” In a moment she had started up, her eyes gleaming, asking: “ You’ll do what Q Do you know whose house this is? I give orders here, not you, sir.” Her sudden flare-up seemed to take him aback; but he cried indignantly: “ I wonder you’re not ashamed to look me in the face. Didn’t you engage yourself to me? and here I find you—” “Giving you an excuse to break off, if you please, sir,” she retorted, with an accent of in ef‘fable scorn. “You’re at liberty to do it now. You know well enough that I hate you.” “Yes, I know it,” he answered, bitterly. “I do you the justice to say you never hid it. But I won’t give you up. Do you hear me? I won’t give you up. I’ll marry you and 1‘]! break your spirit then, if not before. As for this fellow—” He turned on Jasper fiercely. “Why don’t you go, sir? You know you’re not wanted here. This lady is engaged to me, and your presence is an intrusion.” “ Mr. Ray’s presence is not an intrusion. He came here by my father’s invitation, and I have asked him to stay to lunch,” the heiress broke in, boldly. “If you have any more absurdities to utter, Mr. Percy, I’ll leave the room till your temper cools down. and if you utter any more rudegess I shall appeal to Mr. Ray for protec- tion. “To Mr. Ray!” hissed Percy, white to the lips, and foaming with hate. “Ay, ay, you’d better, con found your—” The words were not finished: for at that mo- ment Jasper Ray. who had been growing more and more excited, suddenly stepped forward between the two people, and holding his finger close to Percy's face, said: “Take care, sir. Anything to me; but re~ member that lady must be held sacred from in- sult. ’ IIis motion was not specially menacing, but, innocent as he looked, he was ready to strike, and Percy knew it from the gleam of his eye. “Insult. her?” he echoed, sullenly. “ I don’t want to insult her. I’m only telling the truth. I’ve a right- to complain of her conduct, and you‘ve no right to interfere. Keep away from mo, sir. I don’t propose to fight you. I fight wi h” my cquz' Is. Here, I’ll soon dispose of von. V And he turned his back on Jasper and strode ‘ .«g M ay,-Ngo—dw‘ W win‘-‘-‘““"«‘ ‘ .m—sz w.—-,_¢\¢...-——\ .. «w a. *w :W'f in”... m «wwv..;._a_~_.wws ._ “as: ;.:v.." {4—, v - w 'i'fit'.“s~. : '12“. .‘ . ‘ ' size. mrvgu‘e-r-drnr . $6“ a" :a‘i'x.§u insular. :€?1)."~.(‘.\ .4 2.21,; . .'- ran-m. “5291? “Varies ; ..=.~ L. < . s. ."- “ In.» ‘llilmvlmmsmmmm to Ray, quietly: he heard her voice. Jasper said sternly: “ Now, that‘s enough. Stephen faltered an cowed. must find some one else work.” take, now.” Wallis, who was gazing at went on: “ Miss Wallis, farewell. on are an heiress. ove you.” flush and smile crossed her hated him. not do it. you fair notice that when I portunity to to good as another, afraid to be left alone with you ?” “Afraid? of him?” went to the door, when s e tinct voice: something to say.” be equally frank. Nothing friend, whenever you feel Good-day, Mr. Ray.” She swe then stare muttered: a board—meeting in full blast old senator saw him enter carver, as he found out soon he considered the services of custom was attracted; and commodations. So the resolution was per's engagement, an board adjourned, when the young man sat down by “ Well, you see I put it th not have been anxious. this board to suit myself.” to speak out. speak to you.” “ But the fact tor, hurriedly. “Anything plans of the house? that you should have all the “N o, sir, not about that. be followed as drawn. “ No, it isn’t; no, it isn’t. if the company don’t mind, it’ ness? Your time’s paid for.” It does not suit me.” in a month of Sundays. enough to satisfy any man.” satisfied.” “Then what’s the matter? work? Too many bosses—is mustn’t mind that. drawings?’ house. Mr. Percy ani the end of it is that I mind to resign.” The old senator compressed “A scene, eh? More of his ousy about nothing, I that. Leave him to me.” The senator stared at him. “ Cause! What do you your impudencel given him cause?” He look was nettled to say: Miss Wallis, this Mr. Percy, that I at Jasper with such fury tha blood-vessel. relations,” “Stop him! This has gone far enough.” J asper never hesitated an instant as soon as Then Jasper turned to Miss Wallis: “I deeply regret, madam,” he said, “ that I should have been an innocent cause of quarrel here; and there is but one amends I can make. I resign my place in the company, and yo to do your carvmg Then he turned on Percy “ As for you, sir, I can make great allowances for you now, for you have cause for anger; but I entreat you not to visit it on that lady. I was weak enough to think that I could control my own heart, but I assure you, honor as a man, that I have never said one word to Miss Wallis that you might not have heard. Whether, in my excitement, I might not have said more, when you interrupted us. I do not know; but there shall be no sort of mis- even now, he could not understand fully, an for ever entering this house. ever to have done it, because I am a poor man Yet I have dared to Edith smiled; such a smile! The longest diatribe could not have conveyed a tithe of her scorn, and Percy winced under it as he sat in the corner, not daring to rise. “ Then farewell,” J asger repeated, and he “Stop one moment, please. He paused at the door, and she continued: “1 thank you for your frankness, and I will marry that man in the corner; and since you will not come here any more in the capacity you have been filling, I invite you to come as a t him a courtesy like alqueeu, and over at the humiliated “ Very well, very well. We’ll see.” But Jasper listen 3d no more. reaching an anti-climax, and longer stay would make them both ridiculous, so he bowed himself out and left the house. He went straight down to the ofilces of the company, and found the president at his desk, round the table full of papers and details. down, but did not notice him; the business on hand, at the precise moment that Jasper en— tered, being the approval of Ray’s salary as More than one of the members seemed to think it was too high, and called on the presi- dent for explanations, to which he replied that at double the money, as it had been proved by experience that the more artistic and beautiful cars the company put on the track, the more to the board that the Emerald Company was running them hard on their own roads, and like- ly to beat them, unless they could put on a bet- ter class of vehicles, with more luxurious ac— assed approvin of J as- , very soon a ter, the old Wallis beckoned up Jasper, saying, with a contented chuckle, as I told you that I ran “ I was not anxious,” returned Jasper, begin- ning to feel rather embarrassed now that he had “ IVhat about, what about?” asked the sena- Suit yourself. I told you them, the more I am satisfied The fact is, it is throw- ing away money to employ me there at all.” Don’t you see that, “ That’s not the question, sir. The fact is that I have resolved to resign my position at once. “ Resign?" echoed the senator, aghast. you crazy? You won’t get such a chance again ' You’re being paid “That’s not the trouble, sir. As far as the company’s work is concerned, I am more than Look here. your work’at the factory, and I’ll send over the “Because, sir,” and Jasper drew a long breath, “ there has been trouble to-da at your came there; we ha suppose. We’ll manage to get him cooled down. “ Unfortunately, sir,” said Jas r, graver and graver, “it is impossib.e. tleman has cause for jealousy.” You don’t mean to say you’ve rew redder in the face as he spoke, and so angry and contemptuous that Jasper “ Impudence or not, sir, I have done it. morning, in the presence of loved her, and intended, as soon as my fortune was equal to hers, to win her away from the man she hates.” The senator pushed back his chair and glared began to be afraid the old one would break a “ You — told — my — daughter — that ?” he growled, in a voice like setting a saw. “ I did, sir, and I repeat the same to you, that there may be no further mistake as to our future said Jasper, calmly. toward the bell-cord, when Edith Wallis said Before Stephen could reach the bell, his rival’s hand was upm his collar, and he was wrenched back and run into a corner, where The lady wants you to stop, and I’m going to stop you.” Stephen Percy had never been taken hold of in all his life before, in such a summary man- ner. In his self-conceit and arrogance he had been used to seeing every one 1 him, and he was as soft as an infant physncally, while Jasper was a powerful young man, used to active work. Ra ’s grip was like a Vise, and dysnnk into a chair, looking up amazedly into his rival’s face, completely a 0 So saying, he turned back again to Edith him in a way that I apologize to ou I had no right She started slightly for the first time, and a face. “ Yes,” he pursued, “I would not have said it had you not openly told this gentleman you Any man who tries to force a woman’s affections against her will is a— Well, I don’t want to use harsh words, but I would Miss Wallis, I love you, and I give gained a for- tune equal to yours, I shall take a public Op- 1 you so again, and try to win your love in return, hold wealth is an accident, and that one man is as Now, farewell. have ing, as I do, that You are not this gentleman, are said, in a clear, dis- I, too, have can ever make me inclined so to do. ercy, who The scene was he felt that a , with the directors The the room and sit after his entrance. the new man cheap it was well known him: rough. You need is, sir, I wanted to wrong about the help you wanted.” The more I see of that they should 8 no one else’s busi— H Is it the house- that it? Oh, you Why not do a scene, have made up my his lips. confounded jeal- I don’t mind turning The gen- mean? Confound I told t the young man “ You were bow down to on my word of away to pink, the to talk about. it. your resignation. senator,” returned here is yours.” DOW, to reveal the cause u and found that the He had been 100k letters on his‘table. da from the city old’,’ Eastern letter first, rald Car Company, graph a re ly “yes terious epistle. lowing lines: tune. There is a trai is in the pay of the bed your offer to was the same with seemed to have serv He lost no time accepted and that train; then he wen draw ye on? Girls with ye; that’s all; bad luck to them.” a trembling voice, O’Rourke grinned. “Ye’re a car look at woods; them. visit ust for comp of wonder. ye carry a pistol. it was recalled to hi the doorwa . was gazing after him ack. growing dark. to] seemed so good to nearest arms store at revolver and some cartridges, loading the wea- pon before he left the store. When he got outside and looked up and down the street, both men had gone, and he pursued his way quietly toward his boarding-house, at the door of which he suddenly wheeled again, and saw the two slouching figures down the street, some distance off, coming slowly on. As soon as they saw him sto stopped too, and Jas convinced that O'Rourke was right and that Percy had set watchers on him, for some pur- pose unknown. He set to work and his trunk, preparator intention of taking the ten o’clock press; and, when he curred to him to look turning off the gas. There, right opposi up, were the two slouching men, and he felt a thrill of anger as he had sent them. came round the block one of the men, asking him sternly: by are you watchln scoundrel? Clear out, or I’ll you’ll spy no more.” and faltered: And then J had not seen for a lon the Tramps’ Cam the pistol in his overc to earn railroad mone throw trains off the Who’s paying you to follow me i” e kept a keen watch on the other man, and saw him sneaking awa , as if he had no sort of connection with Red “There ain’t no cri Mike, sullenly. “ There ' well as you.” till he saw him into 8. our hero called a hack and went back to his lodgings, where he took leave of his landlady and drove off to the train. Twenty minutes later he was in a new sleep- ing-car, made by the he was now going, whirling away from Chicago once what I am now, a carpenter. high as you, and I intend to do it.” The old senator’s deep flush gradually faded muscles of his face relaxed, and he said ver dryly: "When you’ze done it, there will be time In the mean time, I accept How many days have you been in our service?“ “ So few that I don’t care to be is the return of 111 CHAPTER XVI. CHANGING BASE. JASPER RAY went straight from the Diamond Car Company’s oflicesto see his friend O’Rourke, and felt a little disa home to his‘boardin from the East. dent, offering him is Opening his city letter, he found in it the fol office and sending back him what had transpir end, receiving the dry assurance: “ Ye’ve better luck than ye deserve. Ye ought to have known better than to let the young lady draw ye into plain talk. she sent the onld woman away, she did it to her; for a man can’t afford to live on his wife’s money in these days, though a good many do, “ Then do you really think,” asked Jasper, in “that she does not dislike me for daring to speak?” nter, and I’m a lawyer. Ye look at facas and try to read I think the lady’s a spoiled heiress, and there’s no accounting for their vagaries. hates the other fellow and thinks she likes you; but time will tell which has made the mistake. Meantime, the quicker ye go out of Chica o, the better. I know the Percy family, and they re not likely to let ye gio long’without paying ya a “ but do you mean?” asked Jasper, in a tone O’Rourke lowered his voice. “ I mean that the young man has great power, even though we are in the land Don’t stay out late at nights in Chicago, unless It’s not the most cities; and a rival, more or less, out of t e way, doesn’t cost over fifty dollars. Get 1your ticket and pack up as soon as the Lord wil . Jasper rather scouted the advice at first, but seeing two rough-looking men hanging round One of them shambled off down the street in one direction as he went out, the other in the op. posits, neither seeming to notice him, but, as he suddenly wheeled round after a few ste saw that the man behind him had stoppe stopped also the moment he paused, and looked b And it was four o’clock on a winter day and Jasper saw in a moment that he was being followed, and O‘Rourke’s advice to carry a pis- He Went quietly out of the house by the back way, climbed over the fence into a vacant lot, he man seemed taken aback by the sudden onset from one he thought to be in the house, “ I ain’t doin’ nothen’ What’s the matter with you 2” asper recognized, in the coarse, sensual face and dirty ragged clothes, a man be p. “ Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said, audiny cocking “ How dare you watch me? Answer.” is, when you’re the watcher. out of this, or I’ll put a hole through you.” Mike slouched off, growling: “ You’re too blamed smart, you are. You’ll get into a hole some day. Others kin shoot as But for all his menaces he went off, and Jas- per followed him, keeping his hand on his pistol, I can rise Jasper, proudly. “Certainly. I don't want to hold you to it ay. You’re an honest man to come and give it up, under the circumstances, and I’m ready to help you anywhere you Wish. Refer to me, wherever you go, of our parting.” “ You need have no fear of that, sir. Thank you for your kindness, and good-day.” lawyer was away at court. in Naturally he opened t and found in it, to his ex- treme surprise, the printed heading of the Eme- and a letter from the presi‘ he very terms of which Sen- ator Wallis had told him two da 3 before as having been offered, and asking ” or “ no "at once. The ban writing was very different from that of the Palmer House note, and he was more puzzled than ever as to the ori ’ “ Go to the Emerald company and make your for- tor in their employment, who Diamond company. He tele gragi them; but you have a friend in hicago who will enable you to do what you wish if you will follow that frien away any more chances." There was no signature, but the handwriting House note—evidently a disguised one, with the letters s10 ing back instead of for ward. asper looked at both letters in a kind of stu— por. It seemed as if fortune were thrown into his hands whichever we had an enemy in Step tainly, also, a powerful that of the Palmer ed him well so far. Couldn‘t ye see, when are all alike. She’s taken and ye can never marry She ment. ’ of the free. ions of let ye.” in as he left the office, by , he and , while the other one ahead him that he set ofi’ for the once, and purchased a new p, the watchers per went into the house, packed up his eflects in y to his journe , with the astern Ex- had got through, it oc- out of the window, after te the house, and looking thought of the man who , and suddenly pounced on that house, you ave you put where to nobody, I ain’t. g time, Red Mike, once of oat pocket. “You want y, do you, after trying to tracks all the summer? ike, so he went on: me in watchin’,” growled Get well‘lighted street, when very company to which paid for them, “ All I ask y copy of the contract, and and I trust to you not g for ad vice as to his future, ppointed, but took his way g—house, where he found two One was postmarked that itself: the other, three days e im to tele- gin of that mys- d’s advice, and not throw he turned: and, if be en Percy, he had cer- unknown friend, who in oin to the telegra h vsvordgthat the offer was he would start by an early t to O’Rourke’s office, told ed from beginning to BS coward. the youn had not her. dent; that slept not till he dawn of a tering it, a pices. Then he his vest, th more. village, in over owm traction, w scale. kindly wherever h grave and “ M’r Ra “ Can I so against me “Yes. I ployment. telegram?” he said: ‘ ‘ Indeed ?” glad with fe perlenced the mali erful foe. strange in a the service did not enter it till t only worked ing private work in lis sent for me and me the offer “ But that dent of the Emerald Co “ How could private letter, of which clerk who co aware that you are maki against my clerks. must have been telegra one in my employ.” “ To show mem bered also that dreds of human beings, cuff. _ _ owover, trains go on, Without r ideas of their passengers, and, earl self opposite the had three thous He took the first train out of t Emerald Car Works Western New York, and was sur he got to the place, to find a bean Schmidt, t e chief derous and smiling fled with himself and Jasper found him ina factory surrounded by valley of a beautiful river, and before he could s of being scowled at, as As soon as he mentioned his the good-natured face of the chief O'Rourke had Percy family lon . “And what was “That you were in the mond Car Com 1) , and had been dismissed.” “For what, Sc “I don’t know that I ought to say. know the secretary of that company?" “Mr. Stephen Percy? Yes.” “ He sent the telegram ycsterday.’ “ No; it was add “Can I learn the nature of It is evident that it has ca came in res distinct ofler.” Mr. Schmidt looked awkward. you can hold us to our contract if you wish-3’ ‘I mean no such thing, sir. repudiate it, you can. “ Your face 100 Jasper felt a thrill of indi “Nevertheless, sir, Senator the terms which you your letter arrived.” Mr. Schmidt look h copy of my contract with Mr. ared to resent at the ti He began to feel superstitious; I that the train was about to meet with an acci- he might be robbed or ver had been nearly penniless, now he and—dollar bills hid own 6 savings of months, with p enty of money besides to carry him on the midst of a smilin with riches, while e went among strangers. he said, rather coldly: hmidt?" c it, sir?” in your mind. am aware that .Scmidt. hesitated and looked at him ar,as he, for t e in it for two more days. you did.” is impossible,” returned the Presi- mpany, in a mild way. he know it, when it was made in a no one knew save the pied it ?” you that it was sir see that it contains the same terms even to the o the date will fully, and at “ t seems proved your that an accusation of di from anything else. You ver in the world, but if I con (1 not trust you, Schmidt looked over ption of taking stock for show you when it was in last said: to be true. case. But of what use would you be to me?” “ This was a OUI‘S. not to reveal connection w com ny. At last he sai “I resigned on a What it shou d ask Mr. Wallis. by the result of his answerz an thin ,. slow y: was at forty miles an hour, Red Mike and all the rest being forgotten. He seemed to'breathe more freely as the train whirled away, for there is something in the sen- sation of being watched by a rich enemy, who can command the services of many people, that is trying to the nerves of the bravest man, even when he knows that the chief of his foes is a Perhaps it was for that very reason that J as- per Ray had felt so nervous, after his warning from O’Rourke and the di following him. He remembered that Perc a coward, and that he, Jasper, had humi iated man before a lady in a manner he scovery of the tramps me. Percy was the master of riches, and that his father was the president of t 0 very road he was now riding on, with al- most unlimited power over the destinies of hun- himself among the num- to imagine hurt wa , if ever he got to his destination alive. I-I’e little the first night, and it was ha crossed the State of Ohio and approached New York that he began to feel egard'to the y in the gray winter’s day, Jasper Ray found him- reat city of New York, en- s he badgentered Chicago a year be- fore, all alone, but under very different aus- till he earned he city for the , which were far away in rised, when iful country landscape r. August of the works, was a pon— (gentleman of German ex- ho seeme to be not only well satis- all the world, though his stock was not yet at par, but willing to please every one he met, and to treat those than himself as if they were his equals in handsome office, in a pretty cottages in the name however ) i y, I must confess, since I wrote to you, that I have heard bad news of you from hicago.” “Indeed?” And Jasper began to understand what meant when he told him that the were not likely to let him alone the bad news?” he asked. employ of the Dia- ) ressed to me privately.” the charge, sir? used a prejudice Remember that I pause to your letter, made with a If you wish to I am not in need of em— I can make my livinaby work when I wish. I mean this. ha cause assigned for my dismissal in Mr. narrowly ks honest. I think I’ll tell you. The accusation is, peculation.” ation, not unmiu- J second time, ex- gnant persecution of his pow- " Mr. Schmidt.” he said, “there is something ll this. I was not dismissed from of the Diamond Car Company. I hree or four days ago, and I was do- Chicago when Senator Wal- engaged me in his company, because he knew that you were about to make Wallis gave me offered, three days before ed graver than before. “ Mr. Ray,” he said, “you do not seem to be ng a serious accusation If my offer was known in Chicago three days before the letter arrived, it phed from here by some ere is In You wi l as yours, pay. and ade.” the contract very care- So far you have on must understand shonesty is different ma be the best car- “That is true,” replied Jasper uietl ~ “ but there is a mistake in that. ’ q y, and was not dismissed at all. “ And why did you resign?” I”resigned my place, asked Schmidt. better offer than mine on the face of it, for Diamond Car stock is worth more than Why did you leave the compan Jasper hesitated. He did not want to tell would not lie. He had promised the senator y ?" ‘ question of feeling, air, in 1th private business outside of the was I prefer that you I am willing to abide and in the meal? Alpha Ha’r Destroyer kin bring dead ba’r to time to waive any contract in your letter. In why tone of eager I'OOII] I SWBI' at 01108. man, with small ey said : room made hi Kim please}, telegra “Mr. Stover, tele¥$ph at once to Senator Septimus “ “Why did Jaspe Jasper heard th “There comes the anSWer. must have caught him at home.” satisfaction. allis: “Message has gone, sir.” “ Very good,” was the answer. Ray, if you would like to r answer comes, I shall take And then all was silent i scratch of Schmidt’s 1 after letter, till the t in look up and say: ph to him at once, and ask left the company’s service.’ “I will do so at once,” 7 said Schmidt, in a Then he called out to some one in the next to Chicago rRay leave your service? An- Ancvs'r Scnmn'r.’ e rapid tick of the little in- strument, and presently a thin, dried-up youn es, looked into the room an “Now ead the paper till it as a favor. ” n the office, save the let), as he wrote ofl.’ letter inkle of a bell in the next Our message greeted eak his name. instead e had been in Chicago, Do you private t is the Percy’s wished he understood again, sa ing: " Here 8 the answer, Mr. Schmidt looke in a dry tone: “That does not other. Look at it.” Jasper looked at it. "AUGUST Scam, Smith " Jasper Ray left us, enough to keep his place. was He re- carver as you are re 6‘ obseiéyed, dryly. on his a good carver or not photograph, I do,” said “ Then here is your for a week on tria . Jasper drew himself want me or you don’t. different to the result. inside riva Ray. York?” Schmidt hesitated. rer the “ But now “ No, no. room, and the H I station now a suit against you for ing.” distance, callin “Halloo! ha 00!” the thin, to overtake him. Jasper halted to let tele— H any of you. it? What’s it about?” managed to so : 01109. 1-, wonderingly. yours. Senator Wallis’s him once more. tombstones. yard, or the cornfiel icine. —hackin’ cough. I don’t namely, the—the cornco rale old bonafide juice 0’ down mudd pure extract 0 offer of a whiff from his ‘ tin it to ing y. Then Jasper listened to the registering instrument in th If you are “ I have done enough on tria pany started and listened strument, saying hastily: “Hold on a moment. There ,9 gram, and it may be about you.’ wait for no such nonse young man, indignant] . to take t e m—Chicago—all rig but do you mean!” as What’s the telegram? “ mm a lady ” was the the smili re ly “and one who shems to be avgre’at nfgiend) of I ain’t partia icines. I’m a child 0’ Natur’, an’ be tur’s cures. Speerits are Natur’s cure air extracted from one o’ Natur’s rod t‘ uc 1008 b: yes, sgmger, thé e next what the sounds meant, ta till the thin, small-eyed young man looked in sir.” (I over it, and Jasper watched his face, but could read nothing in it, till the President of the Emerald Car Company handed the paper over to him with the remark, tell much, one way or the ville, N. Y:— because he did not know “ That may mean that you are not as good a resented,” Mr. on you explain it, Mr. " I could if I would,” don’t care to. As to the ,t1 Schmidt. “ I am the same man.” contract, ready to sign, the true Jasper Ray, I'll give you anything you want; but I have to be cautious, for you are a stranger.” up proudly. Which is .it? I should not have come here if you had not sent for me.” He was beginning to see that this jolly, good- natured lookin Schmidt, was as keen at a bar- gain as old W lie; and that the old senator had telegraphed as he did, on “ You see, if it had not been for Mr. Percy’s telegram and Wallis-’5 equivocal answer to mine, I should have said yes, but—” on decline?” ’ve not said decline yet.” “ Then do you intend to put me off? ready to go to work at once.” “ Tingle ! tin le .’” went the bell in the next I’resident of the Emerald Com- to the tick of the in- damages. And so saying, he walked angrily out of the office and away from the building, toward the railroad station, and had gone nearly half a mile, when he heard a voxce behind him in the faintly: Glancing back over his shoulder, there was ox-eyed young man, at a waving his arms, panting for breath, and him come up, and the small-eyed young man panted out: “Please come back—all— ht." The fox-eyed clerk could hardly speak, but “Old man—tell yon—Schmidt—I dassn’t.” And then Jasper went slowly and rather un- willingly back to the office, met him, overflowing with 5 “You are too hasty for business. I have to be careful, you know, because in all my own, but borrowed. I ha other telegram that alters your case. now why you left Chicago, and it does not affect the basiness. I am ready to put you to work at “And from whom is the telegram!" asked daughter. And Jasper recognized that Edith had saved ( To be continued—commenced in No. 19.) How His Hair Turned White. BY ARTHUR GLENN. “ YAAS, sir,” observed the philosopher, hold- ing his glass to the light, “ sleep ter me, air speerits. SEeerits as goes prowlin’ around at midnight in t eir night-clothes, and pla “ I don’t drink it as a stimilant, butas a med— Ye see, stranger, I hev been troubled with a kind o’—(hack!)——kind o’—(hack behave in the corncob. “Some old ’ooman the t’other side Rockies sez as how quack mental to the hooman cistern if she air onintclligible. Y cistern air filled with cl’ar water water in the shape icine, it’ll a git muddy; but if ‘ loud ” ipe. “ Thet Eipe air a little strong, he said, put. is nose, and then surv “ The way I come ter get that pipe were just this: I were down to——” “ About the hair,” I hinted, ntl . the truth, and 11° “ a1, yaas, speerits and 52’: y sometimes. Not the kind factured; but the kind—no you don't see ’em'—see? winded; but one 0’ them dispatch in one night. bricktop in one night!” I settled regard to hair, when, to he started 01! in a differen “ but there air one thing an’ thet are repetation.” he returned, complacent “’cause, ye see, when a Mlllr. words 0’ the same kind i t e “Oh!” said I, mistake; “you meant repe “Wal, I expect I did. raiSed to it. as a gentle reminder. night-caps—kin do the job with life, an’ turn a cat-o’-nine—tails in blasted if they kin make a cotton myself comfort and prepared myself to has “I allus were fond o’ Roe “ Natur’ air a good hair-dyer, buttgurty long- 11 —as wears neatness and 511' 8 Such fellars t strain. never could “ What!” cried I, in genuine amazement, “ never could avoid reputation? Why, that is the goal that all poets are striving to reach.” “ ’Tain’t the gold that I are starvin ly filling his pote gets too n a werse, it kind 0’ slommicky—onim mortal like.” perceiving his Partingtonian tition.” I know I are got a kind of loose way 0’ spillin’ English; but I were . e see, my mother—” “ Oh, maiden fair, with golden hair,” I sung, ticking of the returned Jasper; “but I uestion whether I am me will tell. mean time, do you want me, or don’t “ If you are the Jasper Ra _ y that carved Mr. O’Rourke’s mantle-piece of which I have seen a Either you urpose to prevent the company securing im, without actually telling a falsehood about him. “ Come, Mr. Schmidt,” he said, rising; “here is your letter, making me a distinct offer, and the contract showing that I am the true J r Do you want me, or shall I go to ew :3 another tele- nse,” cried the is_ In “I’m going to the next train to New York city. If I reach there alive, I commence Good-morn- a mistake—got- ked Jasper, stiffly. where Mr. Schmidt miles, saying: y money is not ve received an- it sir eat, drink and Not the kind 0’ in’ leap-f with to them ,‘x-(ifilt the cl’ar red speerits as crimes straight from the vine- uack med- eve in N a- rostrums are reg”- ; and she air right, a see, if the hooman , and ye pour o’ patent-med- ye pour down Jersey lightnin’, why it’ll leave it full o’—full o’—blast it l—full o’ “ You were going to tell me h turned white,” I said, hastily refusi speeritsl” ow your hair ng his kind, eying it admir~ go together 0’ speerits as is manu- w ye see ’em, now to a. wig, but head out o’ a ably in my chair, r his experience in 03" my extreme disgust, try,” he resumed, that air ha’r. room and pipe, “about that line \‘e jest sung. as brings out the brine. “But I’ll tell ye about ther it’s too late. come over to the fort, and do see, I “Hwy amazement. th ath a ' ' ’ Schmidt e p n his horse rared I pu I mounted, an’ the run. couldn’t stop him. In the you?" a straight road. till the canoe rocked so ’tarna dumped canos—” you and the fort?” got lost, and lost horses alway hope "er satisfied. You cit ' understand an 3 I am in- I thor’ as ow that darned would tumble—” tested, becoming vulgar in my of this stor —— and I could, a “ You are trying to relate it, You sai waves—~” “ Who said That air river war as smooth a con’s tcm§n e s matter. ee, a red'skin we I am and a aboard. We doan we ain’t got time. don’t sto quick. It takes a smart man an Injun village in war-times. men ever learn scoutin’; ’cause, ain’t smart he’ll never live to lo enou h for a general to git upo calcu ations, ut when we figh and that’s Gos il wisdom!” After whic long speech ~trot, ing war about one hundred and “I thought you were in a ma‘nlaged to suggest s nded, with an air parlor. the woods. I felt like some ’un ’un war behind me. sounded like two. ‘ Lock ther I know as how I might rob the house the key. ‘ ’cause why, if it’s a ghost he kin jumped out of m arter lookin’ un er the bed, I kivered up my head. I were ki a si ht as made thin it were?” “Not a blasted bit of itl shoe ish-like when I got up an’ gins skeered, ut them faces kept j and that door-knob had such a u an’ sech nice bi nose, that I h warn’t winkin’. stare at me, till I made up in l hack!) it mind that ghosts didn’t turn vers. “The moon were about half— 01 the kind of light was in the room. and the door opened. Whew.’ seen what come in! feelin’ ’round the low ceiling to crawl into. “ It was a host, sure enough! to the side of the bed an’ laid ther; ’cause, put her other hand on my neck; a soft-looking little foot. the b’ar, with cotton h’ar, but it ain perthetic that,” he added, wiping away an im- aginary tear with his sleeve, “ them’s the kind thing about the woods. as I Were an in , it got rougher and rougher till water down my spine. I looked keerless like, but blast me if I didn’t think some Every steJi I took kinder 0 one]; ‘ be sure to lock ther door.’ he want that door locked? Maybe he thought male ghost, w ire as milk all over. “ Oh, vans,” he observed, serenely pulling his Kinder sentermen- It mought be Ekc, t. Kinder ha’r business afore Ye see, it war ’long about May, two years ago, when the colonel sent for me o a leetle scoutin’. It war a goodly stretch to the fort, and I had no horse then, and had ter foot it. Well, you war goin’ along at a fast walk, when, all on a sudden, the horse r’ared—” “ But you said you was walking!” I cried, in “ Wal, so I war; but an Injin come ridin’ up right in my face led off the In 'in and converted him: then orse started off at a dead The bridle sli ped over his head, an’ I warn’t afeerd ’cause thar warn’t any water atween me and t e fort, and It got rougher, and rougher, 1-7 “Excuse me, my friend!” I interrupted, in- credulousl y; “ you were on horseback. “Wal,” he said, with the most consummate coolness, “I forgot to tell you how the horse me in the river, and I found a “But you said there was no water between h, the river war behind; ye see the horse a double. Now I fellers never kin Wal, old stage-coach “ Here—here! I can’t swallow that!” I pro- excitement. “ Lookee here, young fellar, who’s a-tellin’ on or me!” asked the philosopher, most imagine that I saw a mys~ terious twinkle in his small gray eyes. but it appears to me that dyou are getting it strangely mixed up. ,.a moment since, that you Were in a canoe, being tossed about upon the rough anything about rough waves? 11’ calm as a dea- But it air no use ar yfyin’ the r in t at cance, an’ I pitched him into the river to save his soul, good many scalps. When I rowed to the other side the stage war passin’ an’ I jum d texplain all them little de- tails out hyar, like the story-writers in York; We have to tell a stor like we draw a bead on a deep—mighty quic :we to measure how many yards away he njun warfare, too, a man must be to scout around None but smart ye see, if a man am. It are well n a hill an’ make t Injuns we allus act on impulse, an’ accordin’ to sarcumstances; the philoso her Lbegged,” and I “ gave him one "—glass 0 lilo .r. “ Well,” he resumed, “ ther wagons got along all right an’ smooth till dark. Then we took out the oxen and put ther wagons in a circle. There fifty of us, em— igrants and all, an’ about twelve wagons.” stage-coach !” I I’ll have to skip that part, seein’ as e cant eleva ' ' ” - “Idon’t want to be humbugged any more by gpo t8 your [ginguggfnglgci’ntggfi Who sent ‘ When I arrived at ther fort, glad to see me, an’ stowed me away in the sky My nerves were a leetle shaky that night, ’cause I’d had a leetle skeer comin’ through the colonel was was po’rin’co d around, kind 0’ or ’ sez the col- at for did ut then I had Darn me,’ sez I, ‘ if I lock that door; get in anyhow, an’ if it‘s hooman I kin fight my own!’ “ But I did lock that door, and took the key out; and then I pulled off my blouse; and blast me if I didn’t think szme ’un war helpin’ me. I moccasins and leggins, and, jam d in an’ nder shamed o’ myself, but them faces and things would keep starin’ out o’ corners and places. “ Arter awhile I took out my head, an’ beheld my teeth rattle. What d’yer “ A woman in white perhaps.” _ . ’Twere a pair of legs standin’ right up by themselves. sk cred. I kin stand up and fight a dozen red- skins, but when it comes to ghosts I’ll move camp. The thing didn’t stir, an’ I felt kind 0’ I were found my leg- en t an in’ on a chair. I tried to think I wer um in’ around, we ead o’ ha’r, eyes, an’ sech a nice turned-up to go over an’ feel it to see if it “ Then that picter on the wall did seem to mind to go over an’ turn the face to the we 1, when the door- knob turned. I were shakin’ then; that bed were dancin’, or thereabouts; but I made up my door-knobs, so I sneaked out and got my knife and revol- hid, and a pale I crawled under the kivers; then I heard a key turn in the lock, Ye jest orter The cold water was run- nin’ out all over me, and I knowed m ha’r were fin a hole to It were a fe- She slid up her cold leetle white hand on my face. It sent cold chills down my spine, an’ made my teeth chatter, but I laid ye see, I couldn’t move. Then she then up comes Lord! I couldn’t stand that. I shot out o’ the other side 0’ that bed an’ made a blue streak for the door. the stairs I went in three jumps, “ I never stopped to 5 its presence ther; I di n’t even found the front door. as ML and untied the fastenings of the colonel woke 11 let drive too i didn’t stop. duds. Next day I foun awoid, Iin u maiay scan a ‘ IN one of the Brockton schools feminine of tailor!” responded a bright-eyed little of his fellow-schoolmates. if that thing didn’t come arter mel ' ate on ther cause 0’ says the Gazette, the teacher was exercia'ng her class in the mysteries of English grammar, and propounded the question—“What is the ‘ Dressmaker,” promptly gleam of satisfaction spread over his face that he was able to comprehend the point in advance Down and, blast me, to hid it I scraped around frantic-like till I It were locked, and I saw that ’tarnal thing a-comin’ down the stairs. I ran into the room whar the colonel were slee in’ window. he and yelled, ‘ Who be you?’ and from his pistol arter me, but I skipped out 0’ that window, and never stopped runnin’till I struck Jim Wood’s in. “ I told Jim, and he rigged me out with his old my ha’r had turned to cotton, an’ cotton it’s been ever since.” “ Did you ever learn anything more about it?” “ al, some said as how the colonel’s darter was a somnambulism, or somethin’ like that; but the man as sez that warn’t a ghost hes got i to reach”: to lick me!” he cried, savagely. glass; M N the other day, ¥iwéa 71"”. fellow, as a Riga, ., aTIM"E$i-—:F‘.+.e§)‘,... ,4 a... v. ,. . '4». “ ONLY A BROKEN HEART.” BY J. C. I. It was “only a broken heart,” And the world could not stop to grieve Over such a common occurrence, For “ man was born to deceive,” it said by its every action: And, ‘ woman must bear the blame If she ives unto his keeping Her eart, ere she wears his name.” And so the world still honored The man who went astray; But the fair younggirl he tempted To sin, had last for aye. That which a woman holds dearer Than aught the world can give: Her self-respect and her honor: These lost, could she care to live? Her love had been her undoing; No guile had lurked in her heart— A heart that till he awoke it Had slumbered, nor felt love’s dart. And the world. so vain of its justice, Scorned her and passed her by: But the Judge of the world, more lenient, His mercy will not deny. The Bat clothe Battery; JOB PHENIX, KING OF DETECTIVES. A Thrilling Story of New York Life by Day and Night. BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, AUTHOR OF “JOE PHENIX, THE POLICE SPY,” “WITCHES OF NEW YORK,” “DOUBLE DETECTIVE,” “ LA HARMO- SET,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER XXXIV. A LITTLE OF THE PAST. MISS BRANDON was as good as her word in regard to the promise that she had made to the girl who had come under her roof in so strange a manner. She carefully wrote down all the facts apper- taining to the case and then sent a message summoning a gentleman whose kind offices she desired to enlist in the matter. This person was no other than Mr. Almayne. Miss Brandon had made his acquaintance some two years before the time of which we write, and there wasn’t any one in the world for whom she had a higher respect. In fact the regard that the pair had for each other once excited considerable gossip in the circle in which they moved, and the rumor had been widely circulated that it would result in a match despite the dinerence in their ages. And gossip in this instance, was not so far out of the way, for the gentleman had been most decidedly impressed b the lady, and if it had depended upon him no oubt he would have become her lord and master. But Miss Brandon, while frankly admitting that if she was twenty years younger her an- swer might be different, resolutely declined. “No, no ” she said, “I am in the sore and yellow lea while you are merely on the thresh- old of manhood. Possibly the great difference in our ages may not be so apparent now, but just wait until twenty years have gone by, then I shall be a decrepit old woman, tottering on the verge of the grave, while you will be in the very prime of life. “ Besides there has been one love in my life and the remembrance of the anguish that it caused me is still fresh in my memory. “ Remain my constant, faithful friend, and do not even dream of ever being aught else.” And this was the only relationship that ex- isted between the two, all gossip tothe contrary being utterly unfounded. So when he was summoned the young man came at once. then the situation was explained to him he acce ted the commission. “ ertainly.” he said, “ I will give the matter instant attention.” Miss Brandon had merely said that there was a young lady under her care about whose friends there seemed to be some mystery, and she wished to have the matter investigated. And now that the gentleman had accepted the commission, she produced the memoranda she had made. “ I have jotted down here all the facts in the case I have been able to ascertain,” she said, giving him the paper. “ It seems to be a mys- terious affair, and I do not understand it at all, but I have no doubt you can ascertain all about it, although I fear it may be a troublesome task.” The gentleman gallantly protested that the more difficult the better he should like it, in or- der to give him an opportunity to prove how de- voted he was to her interests. “It may be necessary to employ detectives, but do not hesitate, no matter how much it costs”. “ Oh, I should not allow any expense to stand in the way, even if you had not spokenin regard to the matter.” “ Examine the memoranda, and see if I have given you all the necessary points; I do not think that I have neglected anything.” He opened the paper and perused 1t carefully, and the surprise he experienced was so great that it was with the utmost difficulty—despite the great command he had over himself—that he refrained from betraying it. Miss Brandon’s tégée was the girl who had so mysteriously disappeared, and who had suc- ceeded in avoiding all search, although the banker paid out money as freely as so much wa— ter in the endeavor to discover her abiding- lace. “ It’s a strange affair,” observed the lady, misunderstanding the expression upon the face of her guest. “ Y 5, very stran , but I think I can easily ascertain all about t e matter. It ought not to be difficult.” And then as he s ke to his mind came a. strange suspicion. ight it not be possible that in some way his connection with the affair had been discovered l—was not this task which Miss Brandon had confided to him a shrewd de— vice to ascertain exactly how he stood? It was improbable and yet not impossible. Culpepper had betrayed the banker to him; why might not the informer play the traitor again and betray him to the banker? It was a wild idea, and yet so strangely was this wily schemer constituted that he allowed himself to give serious heed to it. He did not believe that Miss Brandon was a arty to any attempt to lead him into a trap, But thought she might be duped into playing the part of a too]. His first idea was to ascertain if there had been an communication between the lady and the ban er. They were not acquainted as far as he knew. “By the way. Miss Brandon,” he remarked. after a moment’s pause, during which he had been revolving these ideas in is head, “have you heard the latest gossi l" “ No, I have almost retired from society and so I hear very little.” " Ah, then I suppose I must make confession, but I thought you had heard something of it. Dame Rumor declares that before long my bachelor days will be over.” “ Allow me to congratulate on then, if the report is correct," she said, in the kindest man- u er. “I fear I must plead guilty to the soft im— peachment.” “ Who is the lady? Do I know her?” "I am not certain as to that, although I think it is probable. She is a daughter of the banker, Redmond Lamardale.” A quick, convulsive breath came from the white lips of the lady; her face grew pallid and Ifror z; moment it seemed as if she were about to am . The gentleman sprung from his seat in alarm, but she waved him back. “ It is nothing—a sudden faintness, that is all,” she murmured, speaking with great diffi- cult . “ Shall I not ring for your maid?” he inquired, rceiving that he had unwittingly caused the ady great mental pain. “ No, no, it is over now, but the shock was so sudden. so entire] unexpected, that for the mo- ment all the pain ul past was recalled to me and the old wound reopened. I have not heard that name for years.” “ You are acquainted with the banker, then?” Almayne asked, perceiving that in endeavoring to clear up one mystery he had stumbled upon another. “ Yes, I was acquainted with him once, twenty years ago, and at his hands I suffered an injury from which I shall never recover while life remains.” The tone in which she spoke was full of bitter- ness, and it was plain that although years had elapsed the remembrance Of her wrong was still fresh in her recollection. “ You really astound me, Miss Brandon!” “ No doubt, for 1 have always been as dumb as a marble woman as far as my wrongs were concerned. but now since I have betrayed my- self and excited your curiosity, it is only right that I should gratify it. It isa. brief and broken tale,with a mystery that even I have never been able to solve. “ Are you aware that Mr. Redmond Lamar- dale had a brother Robert?" ‘ “ No,” answered the gentleman, “ the only brother of whom I have any knowledge was called Rufus and resided in Texas.” “ Yes, I knew that there was a Rufus Lamar- dale, and that he went south in quest of fortune when quite a boy; he was the second brother. Redmond was the eldest and Robert the youn- gest. Redmond and Robert were in business to- gether twenty years ago and both of them suitors for my hand. “I preferred the youngest, and I believed I loved him as sincerely as ever man was loved. Although the brothers were rivals it did not seem to breed strife between them. “ Redmond took his brother’s success in a good-natured way, wished him all possible hap- piness and congra‘ulated me upon my‘choice. “ I, believing him to be in earnest in what he saidlooked upon him as a noble-hearted brother. Little did I dream then that he was but a snake in the grass, and that all the time he was wish— ing me happiness he was secretly plotting to render me forever wretched. “ My wedding-day was fixed, and on the ver night before it Robert Lamardale disappeare . He left his house, ostensibly to visit me, and from that time was never seen by any one. He disappeared as utterly as though the grave had opened and swallowed him. ” I was nearly crazy; Redmond Lamardale pretended to be equally alarmed, but he did not deceive me, for even in my exCIted state I was acute enough to perceive that his alarm was not genuine. “ The most vigorous search was absolutely fruitless; not a single trace of Robert Lamar- dale, either alive or dead, could be discovered. “ Time passed on, and thinking that I had for- gotten the vows I had sworn, Redmond Lamar- dale renewed his suit, only to be driven from my presence in anger for I plainly told him that I suspected he ha a hand in his brother’s disappearance. “All the defense he made was that Robert was unworthy my love, and it was a fortunate thing for me that the union had not taken p ace. “ Since that time I have never set eyes upon any of the Lamardale famil . I have heard that Redmond has prospere and become a. wealthy man. but mark my words, Mr. A1— mayne, if he is guilty of injuring his brother the truth will come out some day.” “ I am glad that you have confided in me, for in my new relation to Mr. Lamardale I may be able to ascertain the truth, but I cannot believe that on are right in your surmise that he in- jur his brother in any way, althou b there is evidently a dark mystery connect with the affair, and I will not rest until I have solved it.” CHAPTER XXXV. THE MENDICANT. AFTER a few more words of unim rtant conversation, Lesbia was summoned an intro- duced to Mr. Almayne, and Miss Brandon who watched to see what impression her protégée would produce 11 n the gentleman, perceived that it was deci edly favorable, but she was puzzled by the irl’s behavior. for never before had she seen his act so strangel , and she took occasion when they retired to re for din- nor to question her. “ Indeed, I cannot understand why it is that this ntleman’s presence aflects me so strange- ly,” bia replied. “He is a stranger to me; 1 have never met him before to m knowledge, and yet his face seems familiar an a feeling of alarm fills my breast all the time that I am in his presence. ’ “But why should you feel alarmed?” de- manded Miss Brandon, amazed at this disclos- re. “ I cannot explain that -there isn’t the least reason why I should feel so, for he seems to be an agreea is, pleasant gentleman. The senti- ment is one of those inexplicable things which cannot be explained. If I was inclined to be superstitious I should believe that in the future Mr. Almayne will prove to be m enemy and strive to work me harm and that t e fear with which he now inspires me is the warning of a subtle instinct latent in my nature.” Miss Brandon shook her head; she was com- pletely puzzled. For Mr. Almayne she had the ighest respect and she could not bring herself to believe that there was any foundation for the girl’s suspicion, and this much she said to Ia. “ Oh, Miss Brandon 1” the girl exclaimed, “ do not think for an instant that I attach any im- rtance to my foolish and baseless imaginings. was only trying to account for them, that was all; but I was sillyto speculate upon the matter- why, one might as Well try to soberly analyze a dream.” The hostess nodded her head as much as to say that this was her opinion also, but in reality she was much more troubled about the matter than she was willing to confess, for she was rather inclined to be superstitious, being quite apt to allow her instinct to sway her judgment, par- ticular] in regard to new acquaintances. Nothing more was said upon the subject, but when they met the gentleman at dinner, Miss Brandon was articular to notice all that passed. Lesbia tri her utmost to appear p easant and unconcerned, but, in spite of her endeavors, the hostess could perceive a weight of apprehen- sion sat heavily upon her soul. And once or twice, too, Miss Brandon fancied she detected that Almayne was also keeping a covert watch upon the girl, and this excited her suspicions. “ Can it be possible that these two are not strangers to each other?” she thought. “ Can it be that they have met before and something un- pleasant has passed betWeen them?” But the hostess was not willing to harbor this sus icion, for, so doing, it would imply that Les ia had purposely deceived her, and so reat was her trust in the girl that she would ave been willing to stake her life upon the girl’s truthfulness. “ If they have met, the knowledge has passed from the girl’s memory.” To this conclusion came the hostess by the time the repast was finished, and they adjourned to the veranda to enjoy the balmy breeze blow- ing in from the ocean. Hardly were they comfortably seated, when, through the gathering gloom of the dusky eve- ning, an odd, strange figure came shambling up the walk from the front gate. A genuine tramp if evcrahere was one. Miss Brandon looked annoyed. Her estab’ish- ment boas‘ed a porter’s lodge by the entrance- gate, and the servitor who occupied it had strict orders to keep out all such unsavory and unwel- come visitors. “Where can John be?” the lady exclaimed. “ It’s strange that he did not perceive this wretched object. The explanation was simple enough; the porter was at supper and too much engaged in the de- ligilaiets of the meal to pay any attention to the ga . “ The easiest way to get rid of the fellow will be to give him a trifle,” Almayne suggested. “ I will attend to it for you.” “Thank you; I suppose that will be the best way, but it is open to the objection that by such a course you encourage the man or his compan- ions to come again,” Miss Brandon remarked. “ I have an idea that these wretched wanderers have some means of communicating with each other. Some few years ago, when the tramp epidemic first broke out, I was in the habit of feeding all that came, for it seemed really sin- ful for one possessed of plenty, like myself, to deny these miserable, unfortunate souls the bread wherewith to sustain life, but they came upon me in such numbers that I was obliged to put a stop to it, and the moment I began to deny them, the pests began to lessen, until at last from eight to ten a day they diminished to two or three a week.” “No doubt they post each other when they discover a house hos itably inclined, but the quickest way to get ri of this animated bundle of rags will be to give him a dime and bid him depart at once.” Almayne’s description was an apt one, for the man, who was a burly old fellow with straggling iron-gray hair and a scrubby beard, half—dou- bled up, evidently with rheumatism, was clothed in a suit so tattered that it really seemed wonderful that he was able to keep in it at all. As he shambled up to the veranda, took off his bat and made a low bow, Almayne im- proved the opportunity to toss him a dime, say- 1 ng: “There’s a dime for you, my good man; take yourself off now, and don’t ever come and bother us again i” “ Faix! and who ax ye for ye dirthy Wee bit of siIVer?” cried the man, in a hoarse, ras ing voice, which to the well-trained ears Of the ow Yorker indicated that the speaker had been in the habit of indulging in much more liquor than was good for him. “ Sorra a taste I want of it, do ye mind!” he continued, his tones plainlIy indicating that he was a son of the Emerald sle. “ What do you want then i” asked Miss Bran- don, sharply, having formed a decidedly bad opinion of the stranger. “ Is it ye that Miss Brandon!” “ That is my name.” “ Long life to ye, ma’aml Shure, ye’re the leddy that I want to seel” and he made another profound bow. “ Well, sir, you see me now; what do you want?” “ I’m tould ye’re looking afther a foreman to wourk the farm for yecs.’ “ No, sir, I do not require any one.” “Shurel I was tould ye wanted a foreman l” he exclaimed, in a dogged sort of way. “ I do not, sir, and surely ought to know. I am satisfied with my present foreman and haven’t any idea of changing,” retorted Miss Brandon, annoyed at the persistence of the fel- low, and feeling satisfied he had been drinking. “ Oh, well, I’m not proud, if ye don’t be afther wanting a foreman I will wourk as a. reg’lar hand; shure, I kin do anything. You can’t have a likier b’ye about the place than meself l” “ I do not require any one at all, sir. In fact, I have too many hands now and am thinking of getting rid of some of them.” Miss Brandon wondered that Mr. Almayne did not interfere and send the fellow off, but the New Yorker, after examining the man closely for a few moments, had turned his attention to the distant sails u n the ocean as though the man was not wort troubling oneself about. “Ah, 8. leddy like yerself can always make mom for another man on sich an illigant place as this. Shure, miss, can’t ye spake a wourd for me for ould acquaint’ship seeiItiigi that we kem gyer in the same ship ?” he said, dressing Les- Ia. That young lady looked amazed for she did not remember ever seeing the man before. “ Ye disremember me, mebbe,” he added. “ I certainly cannot recall you just now,” Lesbia answered. “ Ye kem over in the City of Chester the same as mesalf l” “ Yes, I did come in that steamer but I do not remember meeting on on board of her.” “ I was there to t e fore, ye kin lay yer life on that. Shure! I kin call ye by name—it was Fardol or Dardol, or something like wan of thim.” “My name is Mardol.” “ That is] I knew I knew ye l” exclaimed the fellow, triumphantly. “ There’s no place here for on, my man, and you had better retire,” Miss randon remarked, sternly. “Shurel I won’t stay if yees don’t want me to, and I’ll take the wee bit of silver, more lory to yees,” responded the man with an injured air, then he picked up the dime and shambled o . “I don’t like the looks of that fellow,” Al- mayne remarked, abruptly, after the man had got out of earshot. “ It seems to me that there lS something wrong about him.” “He has evident] been drinking, but now he’s gone, thank g ness 1” Miss Brandon cried. The conversation then turned to other sub- 'ects, and shortly afterward Mr. Almayne took is departure for the city. Lesbia retired to her room that night with her mind full of strange fancies; but she gave little thought to the odd old Irishman, for al- though she did not remember him, yet she did not doubt that he spoke the truth in regard to crossing the ocean in the same steamer, but Mr. Almayne—why did that young gentleman affect her so strangely? Why was it when she thought of him that a presentiment of danger came upon her? It was very strange. She had been sitting by the open window meditating and now rose to prepare to retire. A glass of wine lemonade upon the table at— tracted her attention, and her grateful heart heat more quickly at this proof of her protec- tor’s thoughtfulness. “She is so kind,” she murmured, as she drank the refreshing draught. But hardly had she drained the glass when a deathlike numbness seized upon her—she tot- tered forward, then sunk down senseless. (To be continued—comnwnced in No. 13.) Weekly Miscellany. John Brown. NOT our John Brown, whose “ soul goes marching on ” down the centuries for the part he played in an awful tra edy, but the John Brown of Queen Victoria— er inseparable at- tendant, servant, friend and adviser. whose re— cent death has made his relations with the Queen and her household 9. theme of much remark. John was a Scotchman, the son of a small farmer who lived at the Bush on the opposite side to Balmoral. He began his service in the royal family as a gillie, in 1849, and was selected by Prince Albert and the Queen to go with her ma jesty’s carriage. He was with Victoria con- tinually during her life in the Highlands of Scotland from 1848 to 1861, entering the service of the royal pair permanently in 1851, when his duty was to lead the Queen‘s pony on her ex- cursions. After the death of the Prince C0n~ sort in 1861, Victoria became more than ever at- tached to her humble Scotch servant, and in December 1805 she promoted him to the position of personal attendant or body-guard to herself. From that time until his death the Queen never appeared in put-lie without John B11)“. 1), and he followed her every where. His wishes were often mini: more potent than those of the mom- AI heirs of one Court, and whenever he was ill a Scotch physician was brought from Scotland to attend him. because John had no faith in En- glish medical skill. Of late years Brown‘s over- bearing and dictatorial manners have caused a good deal of unfavorable comment among the nobility and others, whom he annoyed when they were visiting the Queen. He was not liked by the Prince of Wales or the Duke of Edin- burgh, who complained that he did not know his place; but the more he was snubbed by nobles and princes the more graciously the Queen smiled upon him and added to the favors which she bestowed on him. Supers itions of Railroad Men. “YES, I read that article on stage people and their superstitions,” said an Erie conductor, “ and I must confess that we railroad men as a class are equally superstitous. I am not speaking about that su rstition that clings to one after an accident, ut of that possessed b regular railroad men. I know a conductor who wears a long face the whole trip, if the first ticket he should take up would be that of a colored man. He has never had a serious accident, but is al- ways afraid of one when such an occurrence happens. I have known him to carry it to such an extent that if a colored man should happen to be his first passenger he would sit down and not gather up the tickets until the next station was reached. That’s a mild instance, however. A horseshoe is a railroad man’s universal insig- nia of safety. You will scarcely find a freight train on any of the roads without a horseshoe in the caboose. Brakemen sometimes carry a whole one in their pockets. Engineers are scarcely ever without one in their cab. If any- thing happens to delay a train on the first four or five miles of its trip, an engineer is always superstitious of bad luck all the way through. I have known one of them to enter a way tele- graph ofiice for orders, and anticipate an an- swer to ‘ lay over’ just because it was his ‘ ofi‘ night. Some engineers get to believing that certain portions of the road are against them, and no matter how nicely their train glides over it, they are apprehensive of danger or of being ate “ Conductors are tainted with the disease, but not so seriously. If the first pasteboard, handed a certain one I know, when he starts on a trip should be a pass, he is certain that he will have bad luck during the whole run. Brakemen do not show the symptoms so plainly, because they have less to do with the management of the train, but even they do not escape it. Should a brakehead fly off, an evil omen is conveyed to the mind of some of the craft. A train of thir- teen cars often gives them the blues. I have known one to miss a trip because the train he was to run with had that number of cars. A Tragedy of “Honor.” FLOTOW, the composer, who died a few weeks ago, had a long, prosperous and happy career, upon which on] one cloud of sorrow ever rest- ed. That grie was caused by the painfully tragic death of his younger brother, which oc- curred in the following fashion: The younger Flotow was rather a “wild” fellow, and a practical 'oke which he perpe- trated in a half-drunken reak was taken as an insult by the whole body of the Mecklenburg ieputies, of whom he himself was one. A dozen challenges ensued, and young Flotow agreed to meet any single antagonist selected by lot. This, as it happened, turned out to be a certain count, one of the de uties who resent- ed the offense most keenly. n Flotow’s asking him if he thought a stupid joke worth fighting about, and receiving an emphatic answer in the affirmative, “Be it so,” said the young man; i “ and if you attach as little value to life as I do, we will fight in the American fashion—I staking my life against yours in a game of écarté of five ints; the loser to blow out his brains in twenty~ our hours.” The proposition was agreed to, cards were brought and the two men com- menced their terrible game. The score stood at four points on each side, when the count turned the king. “ You have won, sir,” said young Flotow, rising; “ I will pay before noon to- morrow.” Next day he slept till eleven. After breakfast he took a turn in the park, and was observed by his valet gazing for some minutes at the facade of the ancestral mansion; after which be bid his face in his hands for a moment i as if weeping. He then pulled out his watch; it wanted but five minutes of noon. M. Flotow entered his study. At twelve precisely the re- port of a pistol shook the window-panes. He had punctual] killed himself. This, mind, appcned in Germany—in a noted city and in the highest political and social circles. We have not now, and never had, any “American fashion” equal to such atrocity. In the wildest part of the wild West desperate me'i sometimes do stake a life on a game of cards—as depicted in some of our DIME LIBRARY romances—but such a monstrous perversion of all honor as this tragedy implies is as nn- American as it is savage. Iowa. Wolf Drivel. A CORRESPONDENT of the London Echo, who visited Northwestern Iowa where many Englis b have settled, tells Of the fine sport the settlers have in riding after wolves instead of foxes. Writing from Le Mars he says: “ A good run was had with the Le Mars wolf hounds. The day was warm and cloudy. We started from Le Mars about one O‘clock. to meet about two miles west of the town at 1:30 P. M. It was not a large meet, as we have had a good deal of snow this winter, there being at the present time one foot all over. and the drifts in some places are very large. We did not w: ste much time at the treet, but started away up the west branch for about a mile, where we met Mr. Kirwan, who told us a boy had seen three wolves that morning feeding, a short distance off, on a dead horse. \Ve then found some tracks, which the bounds followed up for some distance, when suddenly ‘tally ho!’ on the oppo- site side Of the creek told us he had gone away. After putting the hounds well on the scent, we started in a southeasterly direction. The wolf then made back again for the west branch, then turned again to the Floyd, following the river down a but three uarters of a mile, where we had a slight chec '. We vieived him next going over the bluffs two or three times. He then struck straight for Merrill, as we were crossing the bridge over Floyd river; then back east into a rough country, very hard to follow on account Of the deep snow, which let us in up to the irths in some places, and here three or four fe I out as their horses were so much done. The wolf then made back for the Merrill and Le Mars road, which he followed with the bounds close at his heels. Meeting a sleigh, he turned off the road and got into a drift. He was so dead beat that a man in the sleigh, seeing his helpless condition, jumped out and knocked him on the head, and throwing him in the sleigh, drove off as fast as he could; a mean trick to take the wolf just as the bounds were on him for the sake of the bounty of three dollars. Un- fortunately we did not know who the party was, as we were too far off, and our horses were too pum d to follow. “ 6 then started for Le Mars, the run hav- ing lasted from 1:45 P. M. to 6:30 P. M., with only two checks, the scent being ver good, and the pace fast. Distance, fifteen mi es." Very good sport this, and at the same time ridding the country of very unsavory beasts. Life in Australia. AMERICA, with all its broad expanse of fertile and unoccupied territory, is not the only land of promise on the face. of the lobe. A private letter, recently received in this city from an in- telligent and observing Bostonian, now Sojourn- ing for a few months in the far-off Australian country, points out with considerable distinct- ncss the charms and advantages of a country which is too often rcgnrdnd by the Yankee race as only It rendruvms for European criminals. Accoliing to this gt a. tic-man’s flowery picturing, Australia, if anything, is superior to the Unit. d States for the sober, industrious and thrifty emi— grant, and the country is being rapidly po lllfllr’ll by people of this class from Scotland. relatid, and many other European countries. While the trades and various industries are represented as thriving beyond precedent, yet it is shown that the Australians are a peculiarly pleasure—bunt ing people. it is a gladsome sight, the gentle- man writes, to see them so intently pursuing it on a holiday occasion, amid bright. sunshincs, in rural or marine retreats, or amid the gre:t plopular pastimes on cricket or racing arenas. o more brilliant scenes were ever witnessed at Lake Walden or Lake Pleasant, or at Nantasket or Newport, than can be found at the various pleasure centers in Australia on a holiday. This evident comfort, according to the Yankee claim- ant, is what emigration trom the old land has effected, and makes one wishful that more peo~ ple of the swarming millions who compete at home for a bare living would go out to the sunny land where work is plentiful and wages are good. House rent, perhaps, is the only item that is extravagant, but a working man can afford to pay $2.50 or $3, or for three rooms and a kitchen up to $3.50 a week, when even a ccmmon laborer ets $1 50 and 81.75 T day, which is the ver Iowest daily pay. fie government day—rate or a laborer is $1.85, and Jumpers or stevedores’ men get $1.75 per day in Sydney and Melbourne. Engineers employed by stevedores to run donkey engines, and men at ordinary work on board tug—steamers, get from $70 to $90 per month. Melbourne ship carpenters get $3 and $3.25 per day for eight hours. In the iron trades, boiler-makers and platers get per day from $2.50 to $3.50; rivetcrs, from $2.25 to $2.75; blacksmiths, from $2.50 to $3; hammerers, from $1.75 to $2; molders. from ' $2 50 to $3; engineers, from $2 to $3; fitters, from $2.50 to $3, and turners in iron, from $2.50 to $3. There is a great deal of such employ- ' ment in Melbourne and Sydney, both in the pri- vate business establishments and government worksht ps. In the building trades, in all the Australian colonies, labor has been in great de- mand for :lie past year and a half. The hours of labor in these trades are eight per day. W A few Advertisements will be inserted on this page at the rate of fifty cents per line nonpareil measurement. Latesflssues. Beadle’s Dime Library. 225 ROCKY MOUNTAIN AL. By Buckskin Sam. 226 THE MAD HUSSARs. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 227 BUCKsHo'I' BEN. By Captain Mark Wilton. 228 THE MAROON. By Ca rain Ma ne Reid. 229 CAPTAIN CnTSLEEVE. y Wm. . Eyster. 230 THE FLYING DUTCHMAN OF 1880. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 231 THE KID GLOVE MINER. By Col. P. Ingraham. 232 ORSON Oxx, THE M AN or IRON. BV Isaac Haw ks. 233 THE OLD 801! or TouBsTONE. By J. E. Badger, Jr 234 THE HUNTERs’ FEAST. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 235 RED LIGHTNING. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 2&6 SLUGGER SAE. By 00]. T. H. Monstery. 237 LONG-HAIRED MAX. By Capt. Mark \\ ilton. A m w issue every ueek. BEADLE’s DIIIE LIBRARY is for sale by all News- dealers ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on re ceipt of twelve cents eac . Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. . 290 LITTLE FoerRE. By 0]] Coomes. 291 TURK, THE FERRET. By E. L. Wheeler. 292 SANCHO PEDRO. By Captain Mark Wilton. 293 RED CLAW. By Captain Comstock. 294 DYNAIIrI'E DAN. By T. C. Harbaugh. 295 FEARLEss PHIL. By Edward Willelt. ~ 296 DENVER DOLL’s DRIFT. By E, L. Wheeler. I 297 THE TARANTULA or TAos. By Buckskin Sam. t 298 THE WATER-E OUND. By Charles Morris. 299 A No. 1, THE DASHINC ToLL-‘I‘AKER. By E. L. Wheeler. 300 THE SKY DEMON. By 011 Coomes. ! 301 LEADVILLE NICK. By Maj. E L. St. Vrain. : 302 THE MOUNTAIN DETECTIVE. By T. C. Harbaugh. A new issue ere; y are 1.7. THE HALF-DIME LIBRARY is for sale by all News- dealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on re- ceiptof six cents each. Beadle's Boy’s Library. ‘ 62 THE TIGER HUNTERS. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 63 THE ADVENTUROUS LIFE OF CAPTAIN JACK. By Col. Prentiss Ingmham. THE YOUNG MOOSE-HUNTERS By W. H. Manning. 65 BLACK HORSE BILL, the Bandit Wrecker. By Roger Starbuck. 66 LITTLE DAN ROCKS. By Morris Redwing. 67 ’LONGSHORE LIJE. By (3. Dunning Clark. 68 FLATBOAT FRED. By Edward Willett. 69 THE DEER-HI'NTERS. By John J. Marshall. 70 KENTUCKY BEN. By Roger Starbuck. 71 THE BOY PILOT. By 00]. Prentiss lngraham. 72 YOUNG DICK TALBOT. [y A. W. Aiken. 73 PAT MULLONEY‘s ADVENTURES. I-‘y C. L. Edwards. 74 THE DmERT Rovrzns, ['3' Charles Morris. A new issue New week. BEADLir’s Bor’r LIBRARY is for sale by all Now:- dealers, five cents per copy, ( r sent by mail on re- ceipt of six cents each. Waverley Library. 19-8 Two FAIR VVOMLN. By Wm. Mason Turner. 169 TEMPTED THROUGH LOVE. By Lillian Love'o '. 170 BIND BAREARA‘s SECRET. By Mary G. Halpm“. 171 A WOMAN’s WITcHERY. By Sara Cluxton. 172 BLACK EYES AND BIUE. By Corinne Cushman. 173 THE COST or A FOLLY. By Georgiana Dickens. 174 THE PRETTY PURITAN. By A Parson’s Daughter. 175 Is L' VI: A MOCKE Y? 1 v Arabella Southworth. l 176 ADRIA, THE ADOPTED. By Jennie Davis Burton. 1771mm THE WOMAN HE LOVED. By Agnes Mary I Shelton. 178 THE LOCKED HEART. By Corinne Cushman. 179 int ED BY TREACHERY. By Harriet Irving. 180 WAS S. E A WIFE? By Rett Winwood. A new issue ez‘ery week. I THE WAVERLEY LIBRARY is for sale by all News- , dealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on re. ' ceipt of six cents each. HANDBOOK Summer Athletic Sports. Walking. Running, Jumping, Hare and Bounds Bicycling, Archery, etc., etc. Fully Illust/ated. BY CAPT. FREDERICK WHIT'I'AKER. CONTENTs: Pedestrianlsm: Walkers vs. Runners: Scientific Walking (3cuts): Scientific Running (2 cuts); Dress for Pedestrians; Training for a Match; Layin out a Track (1 cut): Conducting a Match; Recor of Pedestrianism: Jumping and Pole-leapin (1 cut)‘ Bicvcling: Rules for At letic Meetings; are an Hounds (1 cut): Archery (1 out). For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, on receipt of price, ten cents, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERs. 98 William St., N. Y. ' 0UR NEW PACK FOR 1888. "' 50A“ Chrome Card-y . . (Extra fine Stock, Artistic deslgna of Swiss Floral, Sca- vlcw, “'re-th, Landscape, Gold In .Sllvcrgane] Bird Motto, Butterfly Moonlight, Summer an “'lnter Scenes. :11 in brand ul (not gaudy colors), with your name in {ancytypcfl 00. Sample Book of 90 corily styles for 12483, 250. 50 per ct. aid Agents. 0l' bean. iiful prizes iven for clubs. 30 age Illustrate. l‘reinlum Listwith ewrycrder. AXTON PB TINGOO. Northl‘ord, Ct. 12-13t e.o.w. can now grasp a fortune. ()ut- tit worth 8l0 trcc. Address 8. G RIDEOUT a so, 10 Barclay 3:. x. ‘PLENDID! 50 Latest Style chromo curds, l name, 10c. Premium with 3 packs. E. H. Partiee, New Haven. Ct. 9—26t. Gold and Silver Chromo Cards, no 2 alike, with 4 name. 10c.. postpaid. G. I. Reed 8: Co.. Nassau. N. Y. GDNSUMPTION. I have a positive remedy for the above disease: by its ‘Isa thousands of cases of the worst kind and of long standing llilV'O been cured. Illllet‘il, so strong is my faith in its vilicnl'y, that I will send TWO liO'l'l’LlJS Fill-Eli. to gether with aV.\i.l'ABi.E THEATRE on this disease, to any Sull'ercr. Give Express and l'. 0. iulvlrcw, ‘ ’ DR. ’1‘. A, SLOCL'M, 181 Pearl St., Ncw’ Yorii' - '1 r .‘Jd'mlmm ‘rwrl l , ‘f:.~.‘L—I:' (xx-xv; - 1 .-. . T ‘ 451:; a a “Haifa-A. <_ :21: 5.7: v 12.; . 1.: A .-. .«x y-é_;...,- . flaw... awe-name;- gas '32:“— I: s‘ iv; an»: ; “Pies-'1: .a:.‘.r.m.::l :2an .r . Arm ' ; unmet-mugs. .._‘ “wart,- ..: a; -,-;1=.;-.‘:Lv"fi‘:=x 4.1% ‘r magnum: 1,1,, . .~ ARITHMETICAL LOVE. BY J0 KING. You are the sum of all I love, And in life‘s class stand high above, The only figure I dare spy; A simple vulgar fraction l. The highest claim for which I’d sue Is to be nought to all but you. You are the first, that‘s number 1:— A fine exam )1c of hon tau ,- My interest can’t compute, For the amount I cannot foot. You cannot figure out, though smart, The contents of my loving heart. Affection, which is (lee ) and true, Holds to the double ru e of two; And it cannot be canceled, dear, B anything less earthly here. I hope you will not cast it up! It slate to let the matter drop. I am a student in love’s school, And all by heart I know the rule. I‘ll give my romlssory note That I woul ever on you dote. No alli ation would I make Of any hing for your dear sake. Our lives should find no arallel If our lines in pleasant p aces fell, A unit we won (1 strive to be; 2-1 another 10-derly We both should cleave through all events And never find a difference. People would look and say, “ Ah, well, Their lives are a nu-merical; To sum it up they demonstrate Proportion and the ha plest fate." I‘d multi ily my cares y two Because only cipher you. And I would foot up all the bills And calculate on but few ills. I‘ve an anxiety to skip Into the realms of Partnership, And the fair problems of our days Would then be solved unto our praise. A simple pro sition I Desire to m 6: don‘t pass it by; And the result I long to hear:— Won’t you be mine forever, dear? Make no mistakes in this to-night But let your answer come out right. Around tlflgamp-Fire. BY CAPTAIN RINGWOOD. “ Bruin ” Adams’s Fight on the Clifl'. THE Pawnees, com letely demoralized by that tremendous char 8 o “Bruin” Adams, and the death of their chief, had broken in wild disorder and fled over the low range of bills that lay to the southward. Our wounded had been looked to, and we were soon assembled around the fire, hastily preparing a meal, and talking over the events of the conflict just ceased. Bruin Adams was evidently the hero of the day, and justly so. Mountain men and rangers are not much given to “ demonstration,” but on this occasion the ad- miration expressed by all hands, and Old Rube in articular, for the (young fellow’s gallantry andpskill, was open an hearty. “The chief like to ’a’ been too quick fur ye, lad,” said Rube, speaking to the young hunter. “But yer eye— VVbar id you 1 am ter throw a tommyhawk like that, ennyhow?” “ Ti.e boyee ar’ been ’long with me fur more’n six months, Rube,” said old Grizzly Adams. “ He ar’, eh? Well, that ’counts fur it,” was ’the r’anger’s reply. “ I knows how you handles em. “ The lad or party smart at throwin’ e’en’most ennything,” continued Grizzly, “ fruma tommy- hawk tb a mad butller bull.” “ Hold up, uncle Adams!” exclaimed the young hunter. “ I think they've had about enou, h of me for a while.” “ ot by a durn sight, youngster,” quickl spoke Old Rube. “ G0 on, rizzly; how wur it ’bout ther bufller?” ' The young man saw that the story was bound to be told, and hastily snatching up his rifle, he walked slowly ofl" toward the open where the fight had taken place. “ Squeamish,” said Rube, nodding his head. “Jess so,” an :wered the old scout. “Never don’t like ter hear hisself bragged on. But ’bout thet bufflzr bull. It wur a durn sight wuss’n fightiu’ Injuns, an’ I thort when I see the boy— But less begin at ther fust eend 0’ the yarn. " Me an’ Bruin—I’ll tell ye arter a while wh I calls the boyee so—wur out on our own hoo up on the Pecos, north 0’ Horsehead crossin’, an" wur havin’ a monstrous streak 0’ luck. “ But the Comanch’ wur bad, powerful had an’ onc‘t er twic’t me an’ the lad bed about al we could do ter keep the ha’r on our skulps. “Thar’s whar the boyee l’arned his fust les- sons, es he called ’em, an’ I tell you, Rube, he wur mighty apt at l'arnen ’em.” “ I b’leere you,” said Rube. “Yes, he tuck to it jess es nat’ral es a b’ar doose to a bee tree, an the way he’d handle tbet big rifle o’ his’n wur a caution ter black snakes. “ Well, ’bout ther bufller. “One evenin’ es I wur comin’ in from the hills, I kim across the trail uv 'ess the biggest kind uv a b’ar. It wur makin’ ur high ground, an’ I kn0w‘d about whar the varmint could be found next mornin’. “When the lad kim in I tole him ’bout the b’ar, an’ it sot him all uv a mugger ter be off arter it. “ We wur oil.’ at daylight, an’ tuck the trail whar I hed see’d it the day afore, an’ didn’t hev no deffekilty in leftin’ et es fast es we could walk, and that Warn’t slow, yer may depend. “ You know the kentry ’bout Horsehead, Rube, au’ ye knows it a rough one es yer kin strike this side uv the Rockies. Cliffts an’ precepixes till ye can’t rest, an’ the durndest canyius; sum uv ’em ain’t no bottom at all. “ Well, right into the wust place uv the hull range the b’ar-trnil led us, an’ arter a while I got tired uv wastin’ time an‘ purposed ter give it u ‘L EI‘he boyee would listen to no sich move- ment, an” jess pushed ahead harder ’n ever. “ By—’m-by we tread the brute, and I’ll tell ya whar. “ Frum a kinder gully atween two uv the hills, thar runs up the right hand clift a narrer trail, not more’u two foot wide ter begin with an’ a heap narrerer afore it stopped. “ Fur su‘thin’ like a hundred yards, er mebb more, the trail wur purty f’ar, but arter that it suddently struck squar‘ off an’ run along the foot uv a big rock, windin’ around ontil twur lost behind a corner uv the clift. On the right hand wur the wall uv rock, an’ on the left war the precipice, two hundred feet deep ef it wur 8. inch. At this p‘iut the trail wur, mebby, two foot and a half Wide, mebby a leetle more. “ ’Twur around this place wbar the b’ar bed gone. “ I see in a minit thet it wur dangerous tack- lin’ the brute in sech a place, fur, ye see, he mou‘t turn an’ make fight, an’ then the jig would be up uv a sart’inty. “ But, lordyl Afore I could open my mouth the boyee wur half-way up, hollerln’ fur me to kim on. “’Twurn’t no use talkin‘ an’ so I put arter him, holdin’ my rifle handy, fur I expected ter see’the b’ar charge ’round the corner ev’ry minit. " The lad bed re’ched the p’int whar the trail broke off around the clift, an’ ’thout lookin’ back, be shifted his rifle, an’ started out. “It wur a ticklish thing, boyees, I tell yer, but he never halted ontil he bed got ’most to the p’int whar the path turned ag’in, this time goin’ out uv Sight behind the rock whar it poked out. “ I wur jess go:;_’t r follsr, when all uva sud- dent I heard the dod-durnedest roar, er beller more like, that ever I heard in my life, an’ afore I could hardly think what the thing wur as made it, fur I now’d ’twurn’t the b’ar, I see a great, big bushy bead poke ’round the corner, an’ the thing fetched another one uv its cussed sounds, an’ out crep’ a whoppin’ bufller-bull, huggin’ the wall like grim death, an’ lookin’ like the devil hisself. “I see the brute war mad. His e es wur 6 red es blood, an’ the lather wur hangin’ in grea gobs ’bout his month an’ on his mane. “ Bruin bed see‘d the thing a minit afore ter shoot; but ’twurn’t no use. He couldn‘ had his right side ag’in’ the clift, an’ the nn’s uv it all wur, that he stood right plum atWeei me an’ the bull. no use a-sayin’ Lhet l wurn’t. dan erous fur the lad ter turn ’round. couldn’t hardly stand. nor over neitlzer, ’thout a tussle fur it. the eyes store it know’d what war up. bullet into a stone wall. roar that, I’ll sw‘ar, shook ther hull mounting, an’ crawled fo’ward, head down, at the boy. “ Twic’t more I heard the weepin crack, an’ then the thing wur onto him. “ I shot my eyes—I couldn’t help it yer see— an’ when I opened ’em, I like to a’ dropped in in tracks. ‘Thar stood the boyee, both hands bolt uv ther bull’s horns, his left foot planted ahind fur a brace, an’ his broad shoulders a-swellin’ an’ twistin’ es he hilt the bull back. He never whimpered nor hollered fur help. No, sir-eel not a wordl but ther brute, it wur a-bcllerin’ an’ roarin’ an’ pawin’ the airth, er the rocks, an’ all the time tryin’ his durnedest ter butt the boyee oflen the precepz'ce. “ Lordy! what a fight it wurl “ Now the bull ’d give back a leetle, an’ then my boyee, he’d back a step er two. I know'd it couldn’t last long. The buffler wur the ton h- est, an’ would outlast enny man tbet ever lo‘ged a rifle, an’ so I wur purpared fur the wu‘st. “Purty soon I heard the bull fetch anutber roar. I see a nick, sharp tussle; the boyee bent back till I t ort he wur done fur, an’ then, i}! all/tr i. ll! “’k‘w‘i: with a yell, wuss’n a dozen Comanch’, be straightened up, give the brute a awful twist. an’ the next minit I see the great beast flop over, scramble a second, an’ then out he went, heels over head, into empty atmo. beric. “ In fa‘r an’ s uar’ stand-up fight, the lad bed throw’d the ho er often the cliff.” 1 “Hooray!” shouted half a dozen of the fel— 0ws. “Yes, an’ I says Hooray, too!” yelled old Rube. “B the everlastin’ catamount, ’twur bully! an’ ’m bound ter beva turn with thet boyee ’mong the redskins, or my name ain’t Rube Harkins.” “ Au’ so ye shall, Rube,” said Grizzly Adams. l——— Bill Bludsoe’s Pard. BY H. S. KELLER. A STRAY gleam of light shot from between the sill and door of a small, rude shanty situv ated against the slope of the hill just back of Cracker Box, the newest, wildest, as well as loudest among the mushroom cities of Gunnison country. A couple of miners were passing by: the stray gleam of light caught their eyes. Then they halted, and one said in low tones to the other: “ Have ye ever met Bill Bludsoe?” “ Once or twice. Let me see— 0h! he is the man of temperate proclivities, is he not?” re- sponded the other. Judging by his language, the last speaker was a man of more culture than his companion. And such is the fact. Walter Lisle is fresh from college. His health has suflered severely under the strain of study, and he has taken up “ ranger life among the mines ” as a means of re— cuperation. His companion is Bob Rocket, a rude-spoken though soft-hearted pilgrim whose cache is never em ty. Bob has made a dozen fortunes in the gel ~regions, and as many times has packed up his effects and started for the old home in the East. Yet he, like many others of his calling, has foundered upon the rocks which show above the breakwater—or, rather, lurk beneath the tide of civilization in Denver, St. Louis. And once, only once, Bob got safely be- yond the precincts of Chicago. Fate was against him. A greenlooking farmer got him off his wheel and robbed him on the cars. It almost broke old Bob’s heart. However, he had a small belt next to his skin. It would suffice to carry him back to the old haunts in the West, but he could never show up with any degree of satis- faction in the East with so small a sum. “Yas, Bill’s ther man what don’t never drink any more. He swore ofl onc’t, ’bout six months ag0—” did, an’ I see him try ter throw his rifle forrard hardly hold on hisself, an’ ye recollec’ thet he “I tell yur, hoyees, I wur scart, an’ it ain’t “ I know’d he bull wouldn’t turn back even of he Could ’a’ done it, which he couldn’t, an’ 1 see that of Bruin started ter retreat, the cussed thing would make at him, ’sidcs which, ’twur “ jess wilted an’ give the boyee up fur a goner, an’ my old legs got so cussed shaky tbet “ But Bruin didn’t hev no idee uv goin’ under, “ But what’s ther use uv shootin’ at a bufller- bull’s head? Yer mou’t es well try ter sticka God who “Es the pistol cracked the brute fetched a. strong the devil drink war. t ed Walter. I t est drinker I eVer seen. t i is onc't a week.” very much interested. “Wall, 1— Hello! Thar’s his voice now. Keep mum! d’yer h’ur him!” And softly drawing nearer to the door, the two hear] a man’s voice utter the follow- pra Yer : it! Iknow war, an’, God help good terfetch the doctor. But—cuss my weak “ He re’ched the rifle ahind him an’ leant her mind! cuss them fellers what tem ted me! cuss a ’in’ the rock, au’ drawin’ his six-shooter with his left hand, an’ holdin’ on to a crack in the lost yer. rock with t’other, he let the bull hev it atween the devil drink—I lost yer, par 1 oh God! I A better an’ a squarer man never sit ’cross the table than yer, ole pardl But I never knowed bow ood, how squar’, bow white yer war, till I lost yer, till I lost yer. Oh, the 00d knows all, yer know how sorry am that I fell! Yer know how weak I war an’ how Dick! Dickl—air yer lookin’ down on yer ole pardi If yer be, jist tell the good Lord how weak I war, an’ how stron the drink war.” “ by, Bob, what is the meaning of those strange words? Who is Dick! What does the man in there mean by all this?” asked Walter, as the two stole softly away. “It means that that man killed his pard, Dick," simpjly responded Bob Rocket. “Killed is partner! How?” “Not b ther knife, boy; nuther b ther re- volver. et, Bill Bludsoe killed is pard. That‘s all I can tell yer. If yer wanter hear ther hull story, lyer’ve got ter ask him ycrself. Maybe he’ll tel yer an’ maybe he won’t—it’s jist ’bout as he feels, fur sumtimes he’s urty crank ’bout ther subject,” responded Bob, acou- icall . By? this time they reached the hotel. Walter Lisle went in and Bob Rocket continued on down the street toward his shanty. A couple of nights afterward, Walter Lisle again found himself in the locality of Bill Blud- soe’s shanty. He again saw the gleam of light. underneath the bottom of the door. and again I wiry, g 2,, '0 :71, 1,“ his ears were greeted by pretty much the same words as on the former occasion. A strange impulse came into the young man’s mind, a subtle curiosity to know more concom- ing this peculiar man, his pard Dick, and the hidden circumstances connected with the latter’s * dkeatllig prompted him to step to the door and noc . A voice bid him enter. The door was not fastened, and pulling the latch-string, Walter pushed the door open and entered. Upon the floor, kneeling by the side of a rude ‘ bun , was a slim! -built man. His hair was long and lay upon is shoulders and clung about his neck in a tangled mass. His cheeks were hollow, and the skin was tightly drawn over the high cheek-bones. His eyes, large and pitiful in their expression, were fixed upon the intruder in a look of inquiry. “ This is Mr. Bludsoe—” “ Bill Bludsoe’s my name. Who air yer, stranger?” quickly interrupted the other, rising from his kneelin ition. . “My name is alter Lisle. I have been in ‘ towgvlilut adsdhort time—’1’ r, i ‘ ar i er come rom again interru t- ed Bill Bludsoey.’ p “ From the East—” . “So did he,” broke in Bludsoe, as though spealktigg to himsels. B d ‘ your on! ut who 0 on mean?” . asked alter. W y “ Eh?—oh!—I mean—my ole pard, Dick. , Bless him! I say, stranger, be war squar’—- yes, be war squar’. Sit down an’ I’ll tell yer; all ’bout him,” uttered Bill Bludsoe. There seemed to be something in the young .' can’t!” e stranger’s face that brought tot miner’s heart a kindly throb. The pale features of the fagged young student seemed to bear a slight resem- fiu’s got ter he did. In do end it blance to one—dead. Walter seated himself, and after Bill had done mought es well hev dem capitally gcnted, an’ ‘ Y , t t Ia , be done wid it. ’Sides what, hit would lsave right ‘ e‘r a s ranger er me. on tremem r smart ob cussidness an or nary pre ormanccs - .. . . dat am brung ’bout d’rectly by dis kind ob long ;§;£3;ri;; ‘33 '0. giveggghfn’ef: 051%; “$3 never like tosee your friends enjoy themselves.” the same, the latter commenced ever seein’ yer afore—yet yer face air thin an’ white like, sort 0’ tired-lookin’—that yer look ‘ sweetenin’.” like Dick did when I fust sot eyes ’pon him. I’ll tell you all ’bout him. I won I; even hide— my mistake. I likes yer, ’cause yer looks like Dick—bless his heartl My pard, Dick! He war ailin’ a bit when he come bar, an’ I sorter took to him ’cause he seemed kinder lonesome like. I nussed him through a spell o’ sickness, an’ arter that—he kinder clung ter me an’ I ter cooperation de squar’ thing in ’int ob morals, him. He war a college-bred chap, war Dick. He knowed all ’bout ther poets an‘ sich' an’, be sides that, he could get up an’ talk ter 1; any man I ever heard on. 0’ 1i uor—I done ther drinkin’ fur both; thong he a lers said it would get ther best 0’ me—an’, ter oh Adam an’ Eve what has arything to do wid it. Dat’s whatl” stranger, it got that best 0’ him, too.” “I am interested. Go on,” said Lisle, as the other hesitated. ~x “ Ah! then he has been a drinker !" interrupt “Why did this strange miner, Bill Bludsoe, quit drinking?" asked Walter, seeming to be ing words, which sounded very much like a sponded Bill. “‘Dickl M Dick! Ididn’t mean fur to do fight, the lad hed throw’d the bufler ofl'en the cliff.” , erected over a pair of mounds in Cracker Box ‘ dere kin be no question.” He never touched adroE gin’ dis ondiscrimernatin’ kind ob charity. 1 charity ?” burnin’ him up like. tell ther doctor ier call an’ see him. but whisky war furgot. three hull days—” “ And our partner?” interrupted Lisle. And coveriu hands, the miner wept hitter y. It war” tooken by a feller what made sich thin ._ “ f you are pleased to show it to me,” re- sponded Walter Lisle. Bid Bludsoe took from a shelf a small book bound together with a piece of black tape. Af- ter undoing the knot of the tape, he took from between the leaves of the book a simple tin-type and handed it to the other. Lisle held the rude affair close to the light: a cry of astonishment brolre from his lips as his eyes fell 11 on the picture of a tall, slim youth with a lo over his shoulder. Bill ludsoe saw something in Walter’s face that prompted him to ask: “ D‘yer know him?" “Know him? Why, man, that is Richard Vandermaik—J’ “ My God! Yes, that was my pard‘s name!" ejaculated Bludsoe. “ And Richard Vandermark was a college chum of mine. He came West for his health, and we never heard of him again,” said Lisle. “Then be war yer pard toe. Yer pard en’ mine. My pard Dick— I—I say, stranger— Oh, my God! Stranger, Please furgive me fur killin’ yer pard?” cried B udsoe, as he fell upon his knees. “ RiSe, man. It is a sad circumstance. Dick—so happy, so good—to die thus—” “ An’ when yer go back to ther Eastern coun- try, please tel his folks I loved him—but tell ’em, tell ’em, that ther devil 0’ drink war strong an’ I could not resist ther temptation,” cried the miner. Poor Two days afterward poor Bill Bludsoe was crushed beneath a rock in the mines. He was yet ableito speak, and as they lifted his bleeding head up, he said: “”I—I wanter be put, by my old pard-Dick. That was all. Not another word came from between the bruised and bleeding lips. Bill is dead. The following inscription is upon a rude slab City: “ Bill Bludsoe and his pard Dick." Unbleacheflumestics. BY ALFRESCO. “Hark” on Benevolence. “ALL de way dat my ’sperience goes, hit seems ter medat ’bout five 1' sense ob de world lives by exercise ob dis hristyun wirtne, so called, an’ do remainder lives oflen hit.” “ Rather demoralizing, is it not?” “Well, hit ’muses de party ob do fus’ part; an’, for what I knows, may hev a tendency ter keep dem outen more oudacious reformances. ’Bout do party ob de oder part, don’t reckon “ The eflect is bad then, you think?" “ I doesn’t know any wum use you kin put a man, woman, or able-bodied chile to, dan ter set dem up an’ spoon-feed dem, as it were. Dat I “ Not even to hang them ?” “Better to do dat in do fus’ place, of some- s mo’ dan lier— ble to come out in dat kinder sha e; an’ dey “ But, if both parties enjoy it, you know?” “ I”mought enjoy stealin from you, Mass’ “We slept under the same blanket, eat at ther same table nu’ war pards. 3 or know. Pards multeriude ob sins. “K’i'ect! Ther wust sort o’ a drinker. I in these parts air close.I tell yer. don‘t take a seat Very far back from the front war taken suddintly sick. on that biz mysrlf—but Bob—he war the tough- that took hold 0 i An’ that’s sayin a heap, considerin’ that l lor;ks inter ther lookin’- glass every time when l combs my ha’r- which “ He— e War white an’ stiff—dead—dead . _ when I come back wi’ ther meu’cine,” softly rc- joys an’ reJOIces dere sou s in carryin’ on it on his f-ce with his —an’ dey am mos’ly woman-folkses, fur es I ob- “Would yer like for see my pard’s pictur’? do kingdom. on a window— ne. turned into— r. Webster hasn’t got any word the last one to leave.” “ reply, “ but I havean object in view.” “Boss, do Scriptur’ ea 3 dat charity hides a l 'c ar’ fo’ gracious, I neb- Well—he her did see de deep in’ard meanin‘ ob dat. as- It war a sorter fever sage, ontil I done sot out tcr view do subjic in s Vitals an' seemed to be hit’s pi‘actickle workin’s. De Gcspill am allers He told me ter go fer right—dot um pronod inter mc—wbeder we see. meo'cino at ther physic shop, an’ ter stop an’ de afiplication at de time er not.” I went. " o An’———wben I reached the-r drinkin‘-hall down tour in ther city l—I—tookadrink. Arter that am hid, done buried cl’ar outen sight, by die I took ’nuther an’ ’nuther an’—tben every thing all- rwadin’ almsgivin’, would ha’ bin a drug I war on a spree fur in (i): doubt of it, Hark.” “None in de worl'. De ’mount ob sin what markit in Sodom an’ Gr morrer.” “ You don’t mean ll?” “Fact, I does. But dar ain‘t no use, as I sees, preachin’ on do suhjic’. De folkses what sarves—gits sich a heap ob entertainment outen After the fit had passed, he looked up at the hit dat dey couldn’t be ’suaded from keepin’ up yer state; I knowed how sick yer other’s face and ask d: me! I could ha’ done yer de racket by or thing short ob a front seat in ey makes a plum disserpation outen hit.” “ That’s bad.” “Hit am one ob de ’buses what crep’ inter ’ciety, 'fore my day, Mass’ Alf; but de rapid growth (:b de p’izenous weed, in dese larter ays, am owin’ to de fac’ dat a right smart handful ob people hes made mo’ mone lately dan de knows what to do wid—’lessen it’s in some ch tom fool way, an‘ so dey hes ter git cl‘ar obit somehow. an’ ockerp dere s r’ time, leastwise do shemale po’tion o dem, in frowin’ dere small change ’mong dem what come out do small eend ob do horn, in do in’ral strug le.” “And it does them no goof, you think’ ’ “ Hit may do dem high-toned set some good, in dis way, I hain’t no manner ob doubt: hit keeps dem, jes’ es likely es not, outen wuss kinds ob debauchery. I is willin’ ter grant dat much.” “ But the recipients of the charity, you con- tend. are demoralized by it?” “ Dere morals am bad ’nougb ter start wid. I hes no doubt ob dat, in do great majority ob cases. What little dey hes, if it ’scapes de in evertable ’fect ob sich kind ob treatment, must be ob de most elervatin’ ’scription.” “ I can easily imagine that the general effect would be bad.” “ I tell yer jes’ hyer, boss; of dere am no law ’mon de statoos, what ’plies ter de case, hit am high time dat one war scared up. I knows now do practice works ’mon niggers, an’ I sees jes’ es well es de nex’ one ow bit acts on do av’ra e citizen ob do white trash variety. “ y be dey kin stand bit better, from some dif’runt construction ob de conscience an’ oder in’ards dan dere cullud competitors; but, of dey can’t dey is in a bad way, sho’! “ it needs no argyment from philosophy er mathermatics ter prove ter a rational child ob wrath, that when yer pampers a man, woman, or able-bodied Chile’s nat’ral inclemtion ter be fed wid taffy, yer hes laid de ax at de root ob all ginawine manhood, womanhood, an’ able- bodled chilebood what day hes got in dem. Dat’s how I puts it.” “ I quite agree with you, my fair friend." “Ye’s ’blecged ter do it, boss. When folkses gits inter dnt state—I doesn’t care a corn-fred- rick cent wheder it am trough dere own free will, or from bein’ fo’oed on dem by de onrea- sonin‘ cruelty ob people what orter be in a fool asylum—dot day is willin’ ter hev dere neigh- bars 9’ rt dem, den I kin tell yer, from ’speri- once], of, ain’t much cussidnea what dey isn’t 111 to. “ Fit for treason, stratagems, and to spoil things.” “ Ebery bressed word ob hit, an’ mo’l An’ do longer do treatment am continnered, de deeper dey sinks in do gall ob bitterness an’ bond ob iniquity.” “ You’re a first class moralist.” “ No, Iisn’t. I is—leastwise I war—a Mef’dis’. But dat doesn’t perwent me from seein’ do dan— gers dat ’fect ’ciety from de nat’ral tendency ob one ga’t de community ter feed de odor pa’t, an 0 dat Oder pa’t to be fed.” “ I’m afraid the supply will never equal the demand.” “ De demand am on do increase, beyant a doubt. Dat am de hopeful side ob dc question.” “ What sign of hope and comfort do you see there, Hark it” “ Dat dey will keep on ontil bit am actilly a demand fer' wittles, an’ clo’s, an’ whisky, an’ greenbacks; I means, dey is gwine some day, dese pampered porpers, ter ax dem as what dey am ’titled to. Den de law mus’ step in, if dere am an law, an’ if dere ain’t, sometody’s got her me e one for de ’mergency.” “ You look for it to develop into communism, then?” “ I tells yer what hit am, Mass’ Alf, when dey gits ter communin’ ’mong dereselves hit hain t a-gwine ter be for no good. Now done guv yer fa’r warnin’s.” Telephone Echoes. A PUPIL in an English school, when asked to define the word “ buttress,” wrote out its mean— ing: “A female who makes butter.” GENEROUS to a Fault:-——“Why, what is the matter with Frank? He is generous to a fault. " “Yes,” said Fogg, “if the fault happens to be his own.” “ MA,” he asked at dinner, “ who was Char- lotte Russe?” “ Oh!” said ma, “ she was one of those old queens who made trouble during the Restoration l” AN old judge told a young lawyer that he would do well to pick some feathers from the wings of his imagination and stick them into the tail of his judgment. A SMALL boy in Maine listened demurely to the story of Samson’s tying the fire~brands to the tails of for s and then sending them through the Philistines’ corn, and at the conclu- sion of the narrative asked, innocently: “ Auntie, did it pop?” SAID a poet to an unfortunate speculator: “ Don’t you think that the opening lines of Ten- nyson’s in, ‘ Break, break, break,’ are plain- tive an sad?” “ Yes,” was the melancholy reply, “ but I think that ‘broke, broke, broker isa good deal sadder.” Tin: Italians have a prayer which reads: “I pray that I may never be married. But if I marry, I pray that I may not be deceived. But if I am deceived, I pray that I may not know of it. But if I know of it, I pray that I may be able to laugh at the whole affair.” “LI‘I'I'LE girl, do you know whose house this is?” asked a solemn-looking old man of a bri ht little girl seated on the steps of a church. “ es, sir, it s God’s; but he ain’t in,” she added, as the old gentleman was about to walk up the steps, “ and his agent has gone to Europe! TH]: loving mother loves to see her little boy make great progress in writing, and is pleased to see im give her samples of his writing at home—except when he does so with his finger Then all that pride was in his dictionary that will fit here. “ 1 NOTICE,” said one Austin lady to sue her, “ that at our social gatherings yru are always know it.” was t o “ “'hat “DOCTOR, can’t you tell me what’s the mat- ]f_ ter with him?” asked an anxious mother, whose “ Very likely you would!” “An’ you mought enjoy bein stoled from—” “ Not if the court krows herself!” son was undergoing a medical examination. {Humor in the blood,” replied the doctor. “ I 'new it. I told him not to read funny papers, “All de same, dat wouldn’t make sich mutual bl“ be “mum do it» and the first ihing l" knows “ I agree with you.” it will strike his brain and kill him.” “No dan- er do best ’rangement fer de gin ral good.” ~ 89” madam; he has“ 5 any brain” “ WHAT d‘ye leave that door wide open for." “Jes hke dat am do way dey takes in man~ exclaimed the gentleman in the office to the in- truding peddler. “Oi thought, sir,” was the t’s crimernatin’ nigh ’bout ebery son an’ da’- quick reply, “ that ye moight want to kick nze down-stairs, and Oi wanted to make it conva- ment for ye, sir!” The gentleman was so taken “But you believe, do you not, in acts of aback that. be bought two app’les for five cents, passing off a bad quarter in t e transaction.