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COPYRIGHT, 1883, BY BEADLE AND ADAMS.

   

 

 

E. F. Beadle,
Dawd Adams,

William Adams, Emsusam

FHHN”YOEHLIHAJT26,

1883.

One copy, four months, 31.
TERMS is ADVANCE. 4 One copy. one year, . .
(Two copies, one year, .

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WILD

THE WHIRLWIND OF THE WEST;

THE BUCKSKIN BRAVOS OF THE PLATTE.

A Story of Wild Adventures of Real Heroes of the Border, as Told

BY HON. W. F. CODY.—“BUPPALO BILL."

, 9/, g;

In trumpet tones came the cry, as Wild Bill

BILL,

 

CHAPTER I.

m DEATH-CAMP IN THE SNOW.

SILENTLY, beautifully, the snow floated down,
casting over the earth its downy covering, hid-
ing bleak hill-tops. ragged rocks and lightning-
blasted trees, and making forests appear like
one vast cemetery of towerin monuments.

But oh, how pitilessl y it felfi—merciless in its
cold, though ever so beautiful to look upon.

Night coming on, and, with the dying of the
day a fltful, chilling wind arising, to freeze to
the heart those who had to face its blast.

Amid a few straggling trees, with here and
there a huge rock affording shelter, was an en—
campment, with one fire struggling to throw
out warmth to the one person who crouched
close to it, shivering with cold, and a face that
showed how hard suffering and hunger had
clung to her, for it was a woman!

A woman, in that far-away land of the West,
bent over a miserable camp-fire, while about
her were the forms of those who had shared her
tortures and hardships until life’s chain had
broken under the strain, and the spirit had sped
away from the frozen casket.

Here and there lay several forms, three in
all, and the snow coming down was covering
them with a shroud to hide them from the sight
of her whose eyes constantly fell upon them.

And one of these three was a woman, who,
starving and freezin , had laid down to die,
with others of that ill-omened band that had,
two weeks before, left the gold mines in the
Black Hills, to return to their homes with for-
tunes in yellow metal which they had dug from
the yielding earth.

Seven had started in all, and upon ck—
horses they had carried their treasure, Is by a
guide who had warned them not to start in the
face of coming winter, which might break up-
on them at any moment.

But they could not wait in those wilds

 

through the long Arctic months, when they had
their fortunes secure, and urged the guide to
lead the way.

First their horses had broken down, and then,
in a blinding snow-storm, the guide had admit-
ted that he was lost, and days were passed in
wandering about the wilds where no human aid
could they hope to find.

Clinging to their gold they had staggered
along with it upon their shoulders, unwilling to
give it up, and throwing food away for their
treasure. ,

One by one they had fallen by the wayside,
but, unburied by their comrades, the dead had
remained there, while the living toiled on, stag-
gering, suffering with cold and hunger, yet
clinging to their gold.

At last the spot was reached where the end
must come, and three persons tottered up to
the fire which the guide had built, but the fourth
fell ere she reached it, and the second woman of
the band had become a victim to that dread,
wild march through the hills.

The one woman remaining had tottered to her
side, as if to comfort her, while the two shiver-
ing men had smiled grimly and crowded closer
to the fire.

Finding her dead, the woman returned to the
blazing logs, and there the three crouched in si-
lence and suffering, their packs of gold lying
near them, though scarcely thought of now,
when hun er was gnawing unmercifully at their
vitals, an cold was freezing the red blood in
their veins.

Ahead of them the guide had gone, built the
fire for their camp, and then gone on to see if
no game could be found, he had said.

“ Oh! will he never come?” groaned one of the
hungerng wretches, antkhe turned his longing
eyes over the snow-clad landscape to search for
the coming guide.

Suddenly his eyes brightened, and springing

about and sing in merriest humor, while he
shouted:

“ He comes! the guide comes! and he is
wei hted down with food.

“ a! ha! ha! He brings us delicious food!"

But it was the vision of delirium, the dance
of madness, for no guide was in sight.

Still around the camp-fire the madman ca-
pered, until his wild humor fell upon the other
man who crouched there, and springing to his
feet in frenzy, he shouted:

“Be still, fool, for I see no guide returning,
and you are mad.”

“ Mad 1" shrieked the maniac.

“ Yes, and your madness will turn our brains,
too: so be still!”

The madmangazed upon his comrade an in-
stant, like a wil beast preparing to spring upon
his prey, while his hand dropped upon the knife
in his belt.

Seeing his motive the other drew a revolver,
and thus the two glared upon each other, while,
rendered indifferent b her own anguish, the
woman but crouched cidser to the fire.

His madness rendering him reckless, the poor
crazed being whose freezing and starving body
had conjure up in his heated brain the vision
of hope and succor, uttered a wild cry and
sprung upon the one whom suffering had made
his foe.

There was the click of a hammer, but no re-
port, and then came the death-blow, and one
man sunk down dead in his tracks, while his
murderer threw away the knife and knelt down
by the fire.

“ You have killed him i” said the woman in a
whisper.

He stared at her as though hardly compre—
hending her words.

Then he arose and walked over to his victim.
and gazin upon him an instant turned away,
and looket down upon the form of the poor wo-
man who had died just as they had reached the
camp-fire.

“ Did I kill her, too?” he asked, hoarsely.

H NO.”

“ She was my wife, was she not?"

it Yes"?

He passed his hands slowly across his brow,
and then bent over and brushing away the
tiznow from the upturned face, kissed the white

1 . .
pIgor a long time be bent above that form, his
eyes fixed upon those that would see him never-
more, while. he kept brushing away the snow as
it fell, and which mercifully seemed to wish to
pluc“ its white, feathery shroud over the dead
to hide it from view.

At last the hand rested upon the face, and
the man had no power to raise it.

Then the head drooped, a groan broke from
the lips, and the man dropped over upon his
side, the fifth victim of the little band of
seven.

And at the camp-fire crouched the lone wo—
man, while the snow came down to cover 11

 

to his feet with a wild cry he began to dance

the dead, and the wind went moaning throng

 

and his horse came flying from the cliff above.

the valley, as night came on, in chilling, fltful
blasts.

“Oh God! will he never come back with
food, and must I, too, die hereT’groaned the
woman, raisin her clasped hands pitifully
above her hea , as though imploring succor
from the leaden skies that sent down the merci-
less snow upon her.

“ I have come back; but 1 have no food for
you. Kate Courtney I”

The words fell in deep tones upon the ears of
the startled woman, and turning, she beheld the
tall. buckskin—clad form of the guide standing
within a few feet of her, and leaning u n his
rifle in a careless way, as though he readed
not the cold and hunger which had caused
others to die.

 

CHAPTER II.
THE TREACHEROUS GUIDE.

“ THEN, alas! we are doomed!”

The words were uttered with the calmness of
despair by the woman, while the guide stood by
in silence.

Then, as though realizing what she had to
suffer, and, through her death, the misery that
must fall upon one other, she sprung to her feet
in an agony of grief, while she cried in almost a
frenzy of desperation:

“ Doomed! no. no, it must not be that I shall
die here, and with that fortune of gold lying at
my feet, and which can never reach my own
beautiful child for whom her father and my-
self have toiled for one long "year in this wild
and.

“No, no, Colorado King, as men call you,
you must prove, you shall prove your boasted
skill as a guide and lead me from here to safety
with my treasure, for it is for my child, my
darling Clarice, that I speak.

“ Yes, take me, and that yellow dust, to my
darling. and then [will be willing to die, for
gold will buy her the luxury she deserves!"

A Cold. grim smile came upon the face of the
man as the poor woman spoke, and in his eyes
was a look in which dwelt not one atom of
pitv.

He was a man of strangely attractive appear-
ance, for his form was of perfect mold, his hight
being over six feet, and his carriage dignified
and elegant.

He was clad in a suit of buckskin, the fringed
leggings being stuck in the tops of heavy boots,
and about his shoulders hung a blanket, serving
the place of a cloak, while the rim of his broad
sombrero was turned down so as to shield his
face from the driving snow.

Beneath his heavy hunting-coat of buckskin
was a belt of arms, and the rifle upon which he
leaned most gracefully was a Winchester re-

ater.

The face of the man was cast in shadow by
the slouch hat. and the low er features were hid-
den by a dark-brown beard that fell to his waist,
while his hair was long and waving; but there
was not stamped upon his face the look of suf-
fering worn by the others, and his eyes were

 

not the haggard look which dwelt in the wo-
man’s.

In a deep, cold tone the guide spoke in answer
to the appeal of the woman:

“ You are doomed to die here, Clarice Carr.”

“Ha! you call me by name, Colorado King!
the name I here as a young girl I” cried the wo-
man, in seemingly utter amazement at hearing
from the lips of the guide the name she had
borne before her marriage, long years before.

“ Yes, I call you by the name of Clarice Carr,
which was your name before you became the
wife of Carr Courtney, your cousin, now nearly
twenty years ago,” was the calm reply.

The woman sprung toward him, and, grasp.
ing his arm, looked into his face in a way that
seemed striving to recall every feature, and
bring back to her from the long-buried past one
whom she had known before.

But a look of disappointment swept over her
face. as she said, in a broken voice:

“Man, who are you?”

“ Colorado King, the Black Hills Guide, men
call me,” was the response.

“Ay, so men call you; but what name was
yours when I knew you?—for well I know that
we have met before.”

“I am one, Clarice Carr, who loved you in
the long ago, one whom you pledged to marry,
and then cast off for Carr Courtney.”

“ Oh, Heaven have mercyl Can the grave
give up its dead?”

With the words the woman dropped upon her
knees in the snow, and nervously wringing her
hands gazed into the face of the man before
her.

“ The grave never held me, Clarice,” was the
grim reply.

As though thinking aloud, the woman mut-
tcred:

“ es, he killed a man, was tried and sen-
tenced to death. and I believed that he had died
on the gallows.”

“Yes, I did kill a man one whom I hated,
and I was sentenced to ie at the re e’s end,
Clarice: but I escaped death on the gal ows the
very night before the day upon which I was to
have been executed, though I took life again in
gaining my freedom.

“I was forced to fly to this far-away land,
else you never would have married Carr Court-
ney, for 1 had sworn to kill him before he should
call you wife.

“ hat was a long time ago, Clarice, yet I
have not forgotten my oath of vengeance, as
you shall know and feel.

“I knew your husband when he came West
two years ago, though he, believing me dead,
failed to recognize in the heavily-bearded man
the beardless youth he had known in the long
a o.
g“Ho told me of the loss of his wealth, and
h0w he had come West to hunt for gold.

“I professed friendship for him, led him to
the Black Hints, and then, while I could find no

 

gold, his good luck clung to him, and he found
a mine in which he knew there was a fortune.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“ Then he was taken sick, and began to fade
away, and I wrote the letter to you which
caused you to seek him here, as a dutiful Wife
should.

“ At last he died, and he left to you and his
child his gold. and I pledged him to guide you
to the Overland and see you safely started for
home with your treasure.

“But others, knowing of your intention to
leave the mine, took advantage of my services
as guide, to go too, and, poor fools, they have
met their death, for a hundred lives should not
stand between me and my revenge.”

“ Oh, man! monster! what have you done?”
groaned the unhappy woman.

“I will tell you what I have done, Clarice
Courtney.

“ I have eaten while you and the others have
starved; I have slept in comfort while you have
frozen, and pretending to have been lost, I have
led you far awa from the beaten trail that I
might see you alI’die, one by one, and your gold
fall into my hands.

“Ha! ha! ha! that is what I have done, and
more, it was I who caused your husband’s
death, for each day I gave him the poison that
at last killed him!”

“Fiend inhuman! now I will have my re-
vengel” v

The woman shrieked the words as she sprung
to her feet, from where she had been kneelin
in the snow, and drawing from her belt a smafi
knife, rushed upon the inhuman wretch who
bad So coolly ‘told her of his heinous crimes and
treachery.

The strong man caught the knife upon his
rifle-barrel, and then hurled her from him with

a force that sent her reeling over the dead body

of one of the unfortunate victims of his treach-

ery.

“Back, woman, or I will be tempted to kill
you, and I prefer that the cold shall be your
destroyer,” he said, as he saw her rising to her
feet to again renew the attack upon him.

“I will have your life, Kent Kingsley, or
force you to kill me,” she cried, and again she
would have sprung upon him, but started
back with a wild cry as a form suddenly glided
between her and the man, and a deep voice
said calmly:

“Colorado King, I have the drop on you I”

 

CHAPTER III.
WILD BILL.

“ WILD BILL!”

The name fairly burst from the lips of the
treacherous guide, as he started back, dropping
his rifle in the snow, and his hands falling list-
lessly to his side, as though momentarily un-
nerved.

“ Yes, Colorado King, and I have caught you
in a pretty piece of deviltry,” was the reply of
the intruder upon the scene, as he stood a few
paces from the guide, covering him with his
rifle, while the woman a ain dropped upon her
knees, and with clasped ands gazed upon the
man who had appeared like an apparition.

He was a man in form and dress almost the
counterpart of Colorado King, with great broad
shoulders, a massive chest, and limbs that were
sinewy and firm.

His face was a study for an artist, in the
manly beauty of its features, and the power
that dwelt in ever lineament.

It was a face to ove, and yet one to dread, so
full was it of daring and sternness.

The eyes were full of fire, yet, in spite of the
situation in which he suddenly found himself,
there was a look of placidity about him which
betrayed the cool man of nerve who could be a
giant at bay. >

After the remark of Wild Bill, the two men
stood facing each other in silence, while the
woman crouched down near them, gazinz in
an agony of suspense upon them, and the snow
fell in great white flakes, as though anxious to
enshroud the dead forms lying near Wholly
from sight.

“ Wild Bill, this is no affair of yours, and I
shall hold you responsible for your interfer-
ence,” said Colorado Kin sternl , feeling that
he had to speak and brea the eathlike, pain~
ful silence there in that driving snow—storm.

“Colorado King, I have long suspected that
you were crooked, but could not prove my sus-
picions.

“Now I find you alone in this wilderness,
threatening a woman, and with‘ the dead
bodies of her friends lying almost at your feet.

“ Have ou killed them, I ask l”

“ How are you ask me such a question,§Wild
Bill Hickok?”

“I ask the question because appearances are
against you, and I shall expect an answer.

“ I took your trail in the snow, and wonder-
ing what could have brou ht you away up here,
determined to follow and ad out just who and
what your party was.

“I find your camp, and in it those who may
have died by your hand, and again I ask you,
did you kill those people, Colorado King?”

“ I did not kill them,” was the angry response
of the guide.

“ Oh, sir, do not believe him, for, though he
did not shoot them d0wn, or drive a knife to
their hearts, he led us into these wilds, told us
that he had lost his way, and freezing and
starving he had kept us wandering about until
human nature could stand no more and I alone
remain.

“ Look upon those haggard, suffering, pinched
faces,” and the woman sprung quickly to the
plead bodies and brushed away the snow from

em.

Then she turned her own face toward Wild
Bill and continued, speaking in the same rapid,
earnest manner:

“ And see how white and haggard I am, while
that man’s face has upon it the glow of health,
his eyes are not sunken, his form is not wasted,
for he has secretly eaten food, when we were
starving, and I alone now live, but God knows
my strength is gone at last.”

Again she sunk down, and Wild Bill made a
:tep toward her, while he said in a kindly

one:

“ My poor woman, you have indeed suflered
at the hands of this man; but you shall have
food, I will build for you a shelter, to protect
you from the storm, and you will live to see
that man hang for his crime, for he is no more
lost than I am in these bills, and yonder saddle-
packs of gold tell why he has led you and your
friends to death.”

“Look out!”

The woman shrieked the words, and springing
to her feet rushed forward, as though to shield
her protector from the guide, who had taken
advantage of Wild Bill’s interest in the woman
to suddenly cover him with his revolver, while
he hissed forth:

“ Now, Wild Bill, I have the drop on on.”

Under other circumstances Wild Bil would
have taken the chances of a death—shot and
struggle, but now, seeing the woman totter and
fall, he unheeded his own danger and jumped
quickly to her side, catching her in his strong
arms, just as her long hair swept the snow.

“ y poor woman, I must at once give you
food, and care for you,” he said, quickly.

A spasm crossed the face of the woman, and
for an instant Wild Bill believed that she was
dying: but then she said softly: '

“ It is too late.”

“ No, no, I will rebuild the fire, and—”

“ No, I tell you it is too late for warmth and
food to help me now, for I am dying.”

“ I trust not sincerely.”

“ I know it, I feel it, and I leave to you a sa-
cred duty to perform.”

“ I will do all for you that I can.”

“I know that you will, for I have heard men
speak of you as one who never broke his word
to friend or foe, one who has a noble heart, in
spite of the wild life you lead, and I will trust 1
you.

“Do you see those packs of gold there?” and field Burr, a distinguished cavalry officer, who

was forced to rule with a rod of iron the wild
and reckless spirits under him, or have his
camps a scene of constant confusion and car-
nage, for there were desperate men dwelling
there, miners awaiting the coming of spring to
invade the Black Hills in search of gold, fugi-

she motioned with her eyes toward the snow-
covered pack-saddles.

“ Yes.” '

“ All are mine but three, and they belonged
to those dead there, the victims of that man.

“ My pebr husband, whom that man poisoned,

half as beautiful as you were, Ka

ago, then I may make her my wife and thus get
her fortune.

pulling.

the face.

lightly felt the slender wrist.
H Dead 17’
for even he felt crushed by guilt.

death my gain, and the fortune you have is
mine.

now, with winter setting in, and I will hide my
gold-packs in yonder heap of rocks, and return
for them when the sgring shall have come.

the rest, for I dare not rob you of your arms, as
they are too Well known.

and until the spring melts your icy covering,
your fate will not
found, men will say that you perished in the
storm. '

changed, and a bright future is before me.

how heavily the snow comes down, warning me
to get back to the trail I know, for
here will be death to me too.”

the pack-saddles, loaded with
and which had been carried by his starving,
freezing victims to that fatal death-camp, and
hastily raising them in his strong arms, he bore
them to a pile of ‘rocks near by and dropped
them in a large crevice.

omened gold, he cast ashuddering glance ,at the
woman’s outline, for the snow had mercifully
screened her form from sight, and seizing his
rifle he strode rapidly away from the death—
camp where lay the victims of his hate and
greed for gold.

had seen a ghost, and clutched at the doorway
which he was Just about to enter for support,
while, though the air was icy without, great
beads of sweat flecked his forehead, as though
his brain and heart were on fire.

the soldiers, settlers, trappers, hunters and
miners there assembled, and
months of winter, made the camps a busy vil-

my child, and to her I leave it all.

tance.

as I, a dy ng woman, ask you!”
She placed in his hands a small leather wallet
which she had drawn from her bosom, and

tinct voice:
“ SO help me Heaven, I will do as you request

be merciless to me!”

“ Never shall
Bill!”

man, his revolver held covering the latter.

trigger.

down without a
had cut its cruel way along.

CHAPTER IV.
COLORADO KING'S TRIUMPH.

 

hand once more, for there lies your protector,
the invulnerable Wild Bill, the thirlwind of
the West, as men call him, and you are again
at my mercy, and your gold is mine—do you
hear? Your gold, dug by your husband, my foe,
by long months of toil, is mine.”

The man bent over the woman as he spoke,
gazing into her 6 es with a fiendish look of
hatred and triump blended.
She half—supported herself upon one hand,
which rested upon the broad breast of Wild Bill,
and she looked into the face of her cruel foe
with an expression that seemed dazed, as though
she could hardly take in the full meaning of his
words.
Seeing this, Colorado King went on in the
same meaning way:
“That man’s pity for you, Kate Courtney,
cost him his life, for he should have let you die
ere he took the muzzle of his rifle off of my
heart.
“Men have said I’Vild Bill could not be killed,
and his numerous escapes have so led them to be-
lieve; but he has fallen, and by my hand, and
glad am I that his end has come, for I frankly
confess that I feared him.
“ Yes, feared him, and he is the only man that
ever caused me to dread him.”
“ Oh, man! inhuman wretch that you are,
what a punishment for your crimes will on
have hereafter,” said Mrs. Courtney, in a ow
tone.
“ Bah! it is the present, that I look to, not the
hereafter, my dear Kate.
“ And with my revenge a ainst you complete,
and with your gold, and t e treasure of those
who were with you in this march, fatal for you
but triumphant for me, I will be a rich man, and
far from these scenes will revel in my riches.”
“ No! no! no! you will not rob my poor child
of her inheritance?” cried the woman, implor-
ingly, striving in vain to rise to her feet.
“ Certainly I shall.”

“ May God’s curse rest upon you, Kent Kings-
ley, and this prayer for your life to be accursed
comes from the lips of a dying woman l”

She had risen to her knees as she uttered these
words in a most impressive manner, with one
hand pointed at the man before her, the other
raised toward heaven, as though invoking Di-
vine aid.
In spite of his nerve the man shuddered at
her bitter anathema, but said, in his cutting
tones: .
“ Kate Courtney, what care I for your curses
so long as I have your gold?

“Ay, and now I remember that your hus-
band, Carr Courtney, told me one night in his
cabin that he had alread sent to his child half
of his diggings, so I Will know where to get
more.

“Let me see: she is now about eighteen, I
should judge, and what more natural than that
I should seek her out, tell her of the sad death
of her loved parents in my arms, and how I
bent over them until the last, and to my guard-
ianshi she wasleft.

“ by, this is a glorious thought, and if she is
to, when of her

“Ha! ha! what think you of this, Kate
Courtney?”

He fairly started back as the woman sprung
to her feet, with a look in her face that was ap-

Two steps she made toward him, herdefense-
less hands extended as though to apple with
him in a despairing death strugg e, and then
with a shriek that severed the very heart-strings
that held the flickering flame of life to her worn
body, she fell her length in the snow prone upon

Stepping toward her, the man bent over and

He uttered the word in a. low, hoarse voice,

“ And this is your end, Kate Courtney?
“ Well, your loss has been my triumph, your

“Yes, I need fear no robbery of my gold

“ And you, Wild ill, must remain here with

“ Well, the falling snow will soon bury you,

be known, and then, when

“Ha! ha! the tide of my ill-fortune has

“ Ah! how savagely the wind howls now, and

to remain

As he uttered the last words he went over to
precious metal,

Having completed his work of hiding this ill-

CHAPTER V.
THE WHIRLWIND‘S FLIGHT.
“Heavens above I there is Wild Bill!”
The speaker staggered backward as though he

The scene was a frontier post in Dakota, and

passing the long

age Of cabins, tents and stables.
Commanding the post was Colonel Danger-

 

as he but now confessed to me, dug the treasure

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tives from justice, ready to better their fortunes

“"I‘ell her that her father died in the gold-
mines of the Black Hills; tell her that her of it
mother perished in a storm, while coming back
to her, and bid her be happy with her inheri-

“Here you will find her name and address, cha ter.
and now ive me your word that you will do

and if I break the pledge I make you, may God
you keep that pledge, Wild

The words came savagely from the white,
stern lips of Colorado King, the guide, who had
stood in silence, with baleful glare and angry
brow, gazing upon the scout and the dying wo-

Now, as he hissed forth the words, he raised '
his weapon, until the muzzle covered the head
of Wild Bill, and his finger quickly touched the

A flash, report, and a wild shriek from the
woman mingled together, and “'ild Bill sunk
roan, a red current flowing
from the wound in his head where the bullet

“NOW, Kate Courtney, I hold the winning

out of these hills, and I was bearing it back to . by the robbery of others, and hangers-on of all
border forts, ever ready to draw a weapon upon

the_slightest provocation and make deadly us
and gave utterance to the

, i-ight came on, to report that the snow was no

from camp possible.
Passin

1

mantle.

step ed back into the

his viSitor.

rough growth of heard, I know but too well.
snows up in the Black

ure?
“ Ha! the colonel is listening to his story, and
if I stay here I am doomed.
“Ay, the morning sun will see me strung up
to a tree in the fort parade-ground.
“ I will be off, but not alone, for I will force
those whose secrets I hold to accompany me.”
The man turned quickly away and left the
head-_ uarters cabin, wending his way toward a
distan part of the post, where were a group of
lo huts.
ere dwelt the ruder characters of the camps,
the untamed bordermen who were as hard to
mane e as a menagerie of wild beasts.
In the lar r cabin of the group were gathered
a motley t rong, gambling, chatting, smoking
and drinking.
In fact, it was what Colonel Burr had cor-
rectly named “ Pandemonium Hall,” and a
Babel of voices, oaths and song greeted the man
who entered in such haste.
“ Hello, Colorado King 1 has you seen a
ghost?” cried one.
E; You is pale as a. yaller tiger-lily,” said an-
ot er.
“ Yes, I have seen a ghost,” said Colorado
Kin , abruptly cutting of the remarks he knew
won (1 follow, and he added quickly, addressing
different individuals by name:
“ I want you, Slugger Sam, and you, Dead
Beat Dick, to get two pards each and come with
me at once.”
“ What! yer hain’t goin’ scouting in the face
of a snow-storm, rd, for there is ice in ther
asir?” said the bur y fellow addressed as Slugger
am.
“ I am going scouting, Sam. and in the face
of a snow-storm, and you will find it safer to go
with me than to remain here.”
The last remark was in a low tone, and de-
livered in so significant a manner that Slugger
Sam at once run to his feet, well knowing
that ColoradOSRing s pale face indicated trouble
of some (I rate nature on hand.
As the guide and his two confederates left the
.cabin, the man who answered to the suggestive
cognomen of Dead Beat Dick asked:
“ What’s up, ard?”
“ The colonel nows that the six supposed In-
dians who attacked the Government supply~
train last fall were men from this pOst, and so
you must be off with me at once do you wish to
save your lives.”
:: Jewil’ikinsl does you mean it?” cried Dick.
do.
“It is bad fer us, Colorado King, for death
stares us in the face to go into these mountains
now.” returned Slugger Sam.
“lVell, stay here and hang then, but I go,”
was the angry reply.
2 9h! 30 you go? ’ both asked together.
es.

“ What has the colonel got ag’in’ you, for
you wasn’t in that leetle Inj un disguise busi-
ness?”
“ He thinks I planned it, and if you are going
with me, you have no time to lose.”
“ I’m going with you, pard.”
“ And me, too.”
“ Then get your comrades, and meet me at
the south gate. ’
“ On horseback?”
“ Of course, and get together all the pro-
visions you can, though if we do not get 03
within half an hour we ll be lost.”
So saying, 0010me King turned abruptly
awa and sought his own cabin, where he
hastily gathered together what things he could
take with him, and in a quarter of an hour was
at the appointed rendezvous.
One by one the others joined him there until
all had arrived, and seven in number they rode
out of the fort, the sentinel on duty there tell-
ing them it wasabad night to go out upon a
scout for a snow-storm was threatening.
“Which way, cap’n?” asked Slugger Sam, as
they left the fort behind them.
“ To Lost Canyon, until this snow-storm is
over,” was the reply.
“ And then?”
“ And then I intend to road-agent on the
gold trails to the Black Hills and make a for-
tune for all who join me,” was the stern re-
joinder.
Not a word of response was made to this bold
declaration of out lawry, though the men, reck-
less as they were, started at the daring words.
And on in silence through the snow they
went, Colorado King leading, and his brain full
of bitter thoughts and daring schemes. _
Not one other of that band could have guided
the party in safety through the snow-covered
trails and darkness; but unerringly Colorado
King led them on, and at last halted at the head
of a small can on.
“ Place the orses in yonder thicket and here
we camp,” ordered the leader, and a fire of logs
was quickly built under the shelter of a clifi’,
and the men crouched around it for warmth,
while the chill winds swept above their heads.
And thus the night passed away, and the
dawn ushered in a snow-storm which rendered
it impossible for them to move on their trail to
safer uarters.
In g oomy silence they ate their breakfast,
and then crouched closer to the fire, for the
snow was descending in blinding masses, and a
day of discomfort was before them.
Suddenly they started, for they heard dis-
tinctly a sound above the cliff, as though a man
had spoken in angry tones.
Then the sky was darkened above their heads,
and in mid-air was seen a horse and rider, com-
ing straight down into an immense snow-drift
at one side of their camp.
- The horse was black as night, and had taken
the leap in splendid style, while his rider sat
upright in the saddle, his cloak ends thrown
back over his shoulders, the reins about his neck,
and holding in each hand a revolver which be-
gan to flash as man and beast descended.
In horror the outlaws started up, while there
cgme ringing in their ears the words of doom to
t em:
“Hands up, men! You are my game 1”
In trumpet tones came the cry, as Wild Bill
and his horse came flying from the cliff above
(To be continued.)

M

 

THE modest deportment of those who are
truly wise, when contrasted with the assuming
air of the young and ignorant, may be com-
pared to the different appearance of wheat,
which, while its seed-vessels are empty, holds
up its head proudly, but as soon as they are
filled with grain, bends modestly.

It was into the head-quarters of Colonel Burr
that the man was going wh n he started back
ords that open this

e had been sent off on a scouting outlook by
the commandant, and had returned just as

, sufficiently melted to make an expedition far
grasping her hand, Wild Bill said, in a deep, dis-
the outer door, he had glanced into a
cheerily- ighted room, where sat Colonel Burr
beforea blazing log fire, to suddenly start back
as his eyes fell upon a man leaning against the

It wasa man of large stature and imposing
appearance,notwithstanding the fact that he
was clad in the skins of wild beasts, and had
helpeging from his broad shoulders a large bear-
ro

The man, who had instantly recognized in this
skin-clad individual Wild Bill, the Whirlwind
of the West, had hastil closed the door and

Iiallway of the cabin
has quarters, unseen by either the colonel or

“Yes, it is Wild Bill, for there is no mistak-
ing that splendid form of his, clad as it is like a
wild beast; and that stem face, in spite of the

“But, in God’s name, how comes be here,
when I believed him lgng beneath the winter
il 3?

“Great God! am I to be thwarted at last, just
as the snows are melting to give me my treas-

SUNRISE.

6 BY EDEN E. amour}.

 

 

Upon the hill

T ie'winds are still;

I pnly hear one noisy rill

A merril

Toward! e sea

It leaps and laughs away from me.

t The valleys seem
To sleep and dream;
They wait the kiss of morning’s beam
Before they wake
From slee , and break
The spell t t lies on land and lake.

.The mountains stand

On either hand

Like giants guarding well the land;
The vale is peace

Where sweet release

From care is found, and sorrows cease.

The pale sky glows

With tints of rose;

The day is waking from repose,

And earth’s keen-ear

Is swift to hear

The morning’s footsteps drawing near.

The flush of rose

To crimson grows,

And all the eastern sky o’erflows;
The light has kissed

The pale gray mist,

And turned it into amethyst.

And now. behold!

The sky is gold

And sounds of life are manifold.
Earth wakes from sleep

To work and weep,

And strive for what it may not keep.

Jasper Ray,

The Journeyman
on.
One Man as Good as Another
in America.

A Story of How a Carpenter Made His Way in
the World.

B’Y CAPTAIN FRED. WHI'I‘TAKER,
AUTHOR or “JOHN ARMSTRONG, MECHANIC.”

CHAPTER XXII.
MR. FLYNN’S BOARDERS.

JASPER RAY had come to Chicago with no
fixed plan of action except to find and arrest
Stover, and in some way to have an interview
with Edith Wallis. How he would do either he
did not see clearly; but he trusted to his own
wits to take advantage of circumstances; and
he had in his favor the knowledge that the Dia-
mond Car Company was not in a prosperous
condition for some reason or another.
He had intended to enter the city quietly, and
take time before deciding on his plan of action;
but his ideas were all upset, the moment he ar-
rived, by the sudden apparition of Red Mike,
whom he at first failed to re ize in his new
clothes, though the face seem familiar to him.

“ evenin’, boss,” was the tramp’s hoarse
salutation. “Lawyer O’Rourke’s a-waitin’ fur
ye at his omce.”
Had Mike mentioned any other name Jasper
would have taken him for a confidence man,
and made him no answer; but the salutation
made him stop and inspect Mike closely, asking:

“ Who are you?”
“ I was sent arter ye from Lawyer O'Rourke’s
office, ” said Mike aflably. “ Him and
me’s old pa s. You’re r. Ray, ain’t you?”

J afsper ooked at him su iciouslg.

“ ave you been lon With Mr. ’Rourke, my
friend?” he asked. “ don’t remember your
face in his office.”
“ I ain’t been there long,” replied Mike, eva-
sively; “but he wants ter see yer, and he told
me so.”
“Where is his office?” asked Jasper, and as
Mike gave street and number, the young man
observed:

“ Very well; go ahead. I’ll come.”

“Sha n’t I carry yer bagfer ye?” Mike asked,
insinuatingly.

“ No. I can carry it myself. Go on.”
Jasper was di (1 to be suspicious, and his
bag contained a] his worldly wealth, including
his shares of Emerald Company stock, worth
over fift thousand dollars.

Mike avored the bag with a keen glance, as
if be suspected the secret' but made no reply,
and wal ed on, Jasper following.

Arrived in the street, the young man was
about to call a hack when Mike shambled up to
him with'the remar :
“ It ain’t far, boss, and I’d jest as lief carry
the bag for ye.”
Something in the tones of his voice and his
furtive mannercaused a flash of recollection to
come over Jasper, and he said suddenly:

“ Who are on? What’s your name?”

“ My name ’ echoed Mike. “Why, I thought
you knowed me, boss.”

“ So I do, or I think I do. What is your name?
I’ll find if you’re] in to me.”

“Lyin’l” ech M ke, with a scowl. “ Say,
boss, d’you know lyin’s a fightin’ word?”

“I’m aware of it,” returned Jasper, coolly
utting one hand in his overcoat pocket.
‘What’s your name? I’ll see whether to use
the word or not. What’s your name?”

“ I’m Mike Marble,” returned the tramp
after a short pause, in which he had decided
that it was best not to swerve from the truth.

“ Exactly; I thou ht I remembered you. You
don’t belong to 0’ urke’s ofilce. You’re a
fraud. Get away from me or you’ll have trouble,
my friend.”

And he was again about entering the back,
when Mike cried earnestly:

“’Deed, and it’s God’s truth, boss. He did
send for ye, and he’ll be mad as blazesif I go
back without ye. ”

“ Then he can stay mad,” said Jasper, short-
ly. “ I don’t believe you’ve anything to do
with him, so clear out.’

Then he entered the hack and was driven to
a hotel, while Mike, after vainly im recating
all sorts of evils on the retiring hack, betook
himself to O’Rourke’s ofice, and burst in on
the lawyer with the eager apology:

“ I couldn’t help it, boss; ’deed I couldn’t, but
he wouldn’t believe I came from yo, and he
wouldn’t cbme.”
“Where has be gone?” inquired O’Rourke,
eying him in the searching way with which
he was wont to overawe those clients who hesi-
tated to tell him all.

“ ’Deed, and I don’t know, boss,” was the con-
iIEuse’d reply. “He druv away in a hack, and

 

 

Carpenter ;

 

“And you call yourself a man fit to send on
an errand,” returned O’Rourke, scornfully.
“There’s no danger in you. Sit down there,
till I’m ready to talk to you. I’m busy now.”

And he went on writing, the clerks scratch-
ing away with their pens in the same dead
silence, till the door opened and Mr. Roberts
came in, took 03 his overcoat and went to his
desk as if nothing unusual had occurred; while
Mike, who was much impressed with every—
thing about him, sat staring vaguely, first at
one then the other, till O’Rourke suddenly
threw down his pen and said:

“ Mr. Roberts. ’
H 
’I‘he alert chief clerk came to the table and a
look passed between him and his chief, which
showed that they understood each other too well
for words to be needed, though O’Rourke asked:
“ " ell, did you see the partyI told you to

find?

“ Yes, sir. He’s here.”
And Roberts took from his vest-pocket. a
paper, on which was written in pencil t e name:
“ Joan RICHARDS.

“ New York.
“ Room 87, Appomattox House.”
OfRourke nodded and handed Roberts a paper,
saying:

 

 

“I want three copies to-morrow, before ten,
for use in court. Did the partysee our friend
with the l‘llIOIJS locks?”

“ Yes, sir. He was all right. The party
wouldn’t speak to him, and it seemed to demor-
alize our friend.”

“Thank you; that’ll do.”

And Mike, to whom all this was so much
Greek, had no conception that the lawyer had
any reference to him, till O’Rourke turned on
him with the remark in a gruff tone:

“ You may thank your stars vou didn’t
lie to me, me friend. Now you go home, and
report to me tomorrow at nine. Hark ye;

e’ll see this Percy, won’t ye? W'ell, if ye do,

ll him ye've seen yer man, and ye’ll have him
in a day or two. Keep him amused and report
to me what he says. D’ye see?”

“ Yes, boss,” answered Mike, humbl .

“And d’ a mind this? If ye be ve as I
want ye, l’l engage ye’ll get more out of this
business than if ye d staid on the other side.”

“Yes, boss.”

Mike’s eyes sparkled, but he hesitated.

“How—how much, boss?” he asked, at last,
in a low tone. '

“ That depends on how ye behave. It’ll not
be less than Percy promised ye, and it may be
double.”

Mike’s face cleared up at once.

“On them terms I’ll do anythin’, boss.”

He was about to leave the ofice, when
O’Rourke added:

“ Stop! A word more.”

Mike came back, and O’Rourke held up his

er.

‘ If ye try to play tricks, ve’ll have the whole
rogue’s gallery after ye. D'ye mind that now?
Every man ye’ll meet is a spy on ye, and ye
can’t esca . ’

Mike shuddered slightly as he replied:
“I won’t lay no tricks, boss.”
“ See ye on’t. Where are ye goin’ now 1”
Mike hesitated.
“ To a friend’s house.”
“ What’s his name?”
“Thomas Brown, sir.”
“ Where does he live?”
“In—in Wabash avenue,” said Mike but his
eyes fell as he spoke, and the lawyer knew he ,
was lying.
“Ah, very well,” he replied. “ Ye can go
there now, Mike, and I’ll send a clerk to see the
gentleman in the morning.”
Mike bobbed his head, and shambled out of
the office, when O’Rourke said, in answer to an
inquiring glance from Roberts:
“ Certainly. We need to know all we can
about that fellow. I’ll wait till ye come back.”
Mr. Roberts had on his hat and his overcoat
in a twinkling and darted out, while O’Rtiurke
kept on at his writing as if nothing had oc-
curred.
In about half an hour the chief clerk came
back quietly, and laid a iece of paper on the
table, then went to his (flask and resumed his
cogying.

’Rourke looked at the paper, on which was
written only:

“ Tim Flynn’s.”

The words seemed to give him all the informa-
tion he needed, for he quietly tore up the tElaper
intgsmall pieces, wrote a little more, and ally
sai :
“ Mr. Roberts, ye can shut up as soon as those
papers are copied. I’m oing.
“ Very good, sir,” was all that Roberts said,
and then his chief went away, when an imme-
diate revolution took lace in the office.
The silent clerks came talkative, and a.
Babel of home arose, as the began to discuss
the various incidents of the ay’s business, after .
the fashion of all clerks, with little interest in
the actors, but a keen eye to the ludicrous as-
pects of each case.
The exhibited some curiosity about the last
new c ient, and one or two asked questions of
Roberts as to where he had been on his trips out
of doors; but the chief clerk, who sustained a
sort of confidential relation to O’Rourke, gave
them no satisfaction beyond:
“ Business, boys, business. When it’s all over
you’ll know. ’
Meantime the head of the establishment, as
soon as he left the office, took his way to the very
banroom where Mike had imbibed so freely,
and strolled in with a nod to the landlord, who
at once became obsequiously familiar.
“Glad to see you, counselor. What’ll you
have? Got some very fine old rye—”
“ Oh, just a cigar, Tim, that’s all. How’s busi-
ness?” replied O’Rourke. indifferently, glancing
round the bar-room, which was full of hard-
looking characters, who all nodded respectfully
to him whenever they could catch his eye, seem-
ing to think it an honor to be noticed.
“ Business is aboomin’. How d’yer like ’em
—strong’£” re lied Tim.
“ Strong, 0 coorse. No trouble, lately, Tim,
or I should have heard of it?”

“No, sir, thanks to you counselor. I take
mighty good keer of myself sence that little af-
fag—eh, counselor? It paid you well, didn’t

“ And didn’t it (poly you, too?” asked the law-
yer, as he lighte is cigar. “Bedad, it was
worth the money, gettin’ ye out of that scrape,
me friend. Tin years in the stone-jug’s worth
a tgousand dollars at the lasts, and ye only

“ All I had, counselor, all I had, and the busi-
ness ain’t be’n what it used to—”

“ I thought e said it was booming, Tim?”
Tim coughe delicately.

“ Well-that is—to what it was lastweek: but
it ain’t never be’n what it was afore the cops
dropped on me. As soon as ever I kin, coun-
selor I’ll come round and see ye—"

O’Rourke interrupted him by waving his hand.
He had defended the ingenious Tim, some
months before, in connection with the reception
of stolen pro rty, and Tim still owed him five
hundred do] are on a note of hand; so that
O’Rourke who was generally careless in money
matters, from the ease with which he earned a
living, knew he had the landlord in his power.

“ I didn’t come after that, Tim,” he said, to
the intense relief of poor Flynn, who ejaculated:

“ God bless you, counselor; but you’re the
reaelgentleman, you are. Try a little of the rye,
s1r.’

“ I’ll try a thimbleful, if ye’ll join me,” said

O’Rourke, who had come after information, and

knew how to get it.

Tim inned aflfably; pushed his guest the bot—

tle, an drank a deep draught when his turn

came, while O’Rourke merely wetted his lips,

after pretending to drink, and dropped his liquor

into the Spittoon by the bar, ejaculating:

“ That’s good, Tim, good. Now you must

take one with me.”

And Tim did so, O’Rourke watching to see

that he took a bona fide swallow, while his own

drink went after the first, as he observed:

“ Got any boarders, Tim?"

Tim Fl nn grinned, for his tongue had been

loosened y the drinks.

“Ay, ay, counselor, several.

all in good time.

you kin bet.”

“ Thank ye, Tim. I got in one to—da on

Kim; recommendation; a fellow called ar-
e

He watched Tim as he kc, and saw that the

landlord’s face twitched a ightly at the name, so

he went on: ‘

“ I don’t see him here.”

Tim winked slay and seemed as if about to

speak, but chang his mind, and O'Rourke re—

marked:

“ It’s just about time to take another taste of

the rye, Tim. Here, take it out of that with

the other one.”

And he threw down a five-dollar bill, at sight

of which Tim’s face relaxed, and be filled the

glasses again, saying:

“ Yer good health, counselor.”

The third glass evidently removed all his

scruples: for he said in a low voice, as he shoved

over the lawyer‘s change: r
“ I’m glad you’ve come, counselor. That ere

Marble, he’s a beat. He ain’t no reg’lar crook,

he ain’t; and I’m afeared he‘s goin’ to get us all

into a hole.”

You’ll see ’em
I’ll give yer a recommend,

 

" Indeed é”

  
     
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
     
      
   
 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
  
   

 

   

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“Yes, counselor.”

“ What’s the matter?”

As he spoke, O'Rourke looked indifferent and
puffed at his cigar. He knew that the landlord
would tell him all, if he did not hurry him,
and resently Tim justified his belief by saying:

“ ould you believe it, Mr. O’Rourke, there’s
a durned fool in this city is a-trustin’ this same
Marble to steer him out of trouble; he’s got a
crook from the East in this houSe, a-hidin’ from
the cops. It’s jest disgustin’. that’s what it is.”

“ What’s disgusting, Tim?”

“ To think he should trust that galoot. Don’t
know no more ’bout business than a babby.
Goin’ ’bout in new close, a-bringin’ suspicion on
sevlliloneit man tryin’ to make a honest livin’.

y—

He lowered his voice to a whisper:

“ If you’ll b’lieve me, there’s be’n three cops
in here this very evenin’, all owin’ to him swag-
gerin’ ’round and layin’ loose drunk.”

“ He’s not drunk already? He wasn’t, at my
office.”

“ Not to-night- but he was in the mornin’, and
had to sleep it off.”

“Where is he now?”

Tim pointed over his shoulder.

“I’ve ot him up there. I’m goin’ to make
what I kin enter the gang.”

“Ah, yes; they’re quite a nice lot. Let me
see; there are five of them are there not?”

This was a feeler; for O'Rourke did not know
yet of anything more than one; but Tim swal-

owed the bait innocently.

“Oh, no;only three, and the third feller’s a
highfiyer.”

“ Ah, yes. Do you know who he is?"

Tim shook his head.

“ Wish I did. I’ll find out for yer.”

“ No importance. Who’s the other man that
stops here? You must look out, Tim, if the cops
are ’round. If ye getl into trouble a second
time, it may hard with ye.”

Tim tossed is head.

“ Not with you to get me out. I’ll resk it.”

“But I can’t do any good unless I know the
whole case, Tim. Is the other a regular crook?”

Tim looked mysterious.

“ I d’no’. But tell yer what it is—he looks to
me like a man what’s shot a teller, and run fur
it. He’s a little cuss and looks skeered like.”

“ Has he a counsel?”

“ No, sir; but I’ll see he don’t get any but
you, counselor. I know my biz.”

“That’s all very well, me friend. but I’m not
touting for business, ye know. What sort of a
looking man is he?”

“Little undersized cuss, small eyes, set close
together. Don’t look like a reg’lar crook. Too

sl .

O‘Rourke smiled.

“ Ye’re quite an obsairver, Tim.”

“ Orter be. See’d enough on ’em.”

“And your friend Marble is up-stairs, is he?”

Tim, whose eyes were roving over the room,
suddenly muttered, without movin his lips:

“ There he is now, comin for a rink.”

This was one of Tim’s litt e accomplishments,
imitated from traveling ventriloquists, and
sometimes standing him in good stead, as in the
present instance; for O‘Rourke, who understood

im perfectly, filled up a glass as if he were
takinfia last drink, and turned round, just as
Red ike came up to the bar.

The ex-tramp had his hat pulled down over
his eyes, and did not notice O’Rourke, as he
slapged the bar, saying:

‘ ome, Tim, come. I’m awful dry. Give
me a bottle to take upstairs.”

Tim handed out a bottle, and Mike ulled out
what the lawyer’s quick eye saw to a gold
certificate from his pocket, into which he hasti-
ly shoved it back, substituting a five-dollar bill,
with which he paid for the whisky and sham-
bled away, never looking up at any one, and
not heeding O’Rourke.

“ That’ll keep him still till morning,” re-
markmi Tim as Marble disa peered. “ He’s
a nice duck, lie is, to be true with anything.
Why, a green cop, jest app’inted, couldn’t be p
seein’ through him.’

O’Rourke made no answer, but ulled re-
fiectivel at his cigar, and presently o rved to
the land 0rd:

“I’ll be oing now, Tim. If ye have any
trouble, ye w where to come.”

“Indeed I do,” replied Tim, and he was so
particular to do honor to his guest that he saw

im to the door himself, and then went back to
his bar, muttering:

“ The counselor’s a tleman. He never
wants to know no mans biz any furder’n to
take keer of him; and I’ve ot to be keerful, or
that red-headed galoot wi get us all into a
hole. Reckon I’ll go and have a look at him.”

He called the ever—useful Jessie to tend the
bar, and went up—stairs to the room where he
suspected his guest to be, rather than in his own
sleeping—apartment.

Sure enough, when he came to the dark room,
he heard the sound of some one singing in a
crooning way, and found Mike Marble and
the little stranger together, the now partly in-
ebriated Michael trolling in lugubrious tones
the athetic and inspiring ballad of “Cooper
and onnelly ”; the little strangler noddin his
head in time and holding on to t e bottle, mm
which his flushed face announced that he had
been imbibing liberally.

As Tim entered, Red Mike was trolling out
the renowned lines:

“Theftth steips Mrs. Kelly, and takes Donnelly by
e an ;
'On you,’ she says, ‘brave Donnelly, I’ve wagered
house and land,
For the honor of old Ireland don’t let me lose, this

day,

But cogqiéer this bold Englishman, and down him in
t e ra .’

Then Donnefiy got his second wind and went at it

again,
And baisted Cooper right and left, upon the bloody
p am:
And gave him one treinenjous blow, alongside of the

law.
That worsted Cooper so that he could come to time
no more.”

“ ’Rah for Donnelly l” hiccoughed the little
man, waving the bottle. “ That’s a stavin’ song,
Mike.”

Then, as he saw Tim in the doorway, gazing
sternl at him, he ejaculated:

“ hat’n thunder s matter?”

“ The matter is that if you two don’t stop yer
darnation noise, the cops ’11 be in on yer,” re-
plied Tim. “ Don’t ye know no better nor to be
singin’ with the speakin’-tube open? They’ll
hear ye in the bar.’

“ Let ’em hear us,” cried the little man, wav~
ing the bottle. “ What do we care for ’em; hey,
Mike? I’ve t slathers of money and nothing
to do with t. Look here, landlord. Hooray!
Here’s to ye and bad luck to the copsi”

And he took a deep swig from the bottle, Tim
watching him all the while, for the landlord had
not come up for nothing.

“ Say?” inquired Flynn, as the little man put
the bottle on his knee, “do on intend to keep
that bottle all night? There 3 Mike hasn’t had a
dro all day.”

The little man tried to get up, and sat down
suddenly again, remarking:

“ Landlord, ou’re a gentleman, a real en-
tleman. Mr. arble is another. Here, ike,
take hold. I’m—I’m not quite well. Guess I’ll
take a little nap.”

Tim saw that he would soon be dead drunk,
while Mike Marble was doing his best to follow
suit, so the landlord asked insinuatingly:

“Don’t you want to leave any message when
the gentleman calls tomorrow?”

“ What entleman?” asked the little man, stu-
pidly. “ on mean Percy?”

“Of course,” replied Tim, deli hted to have

, obtained the name so easily. ‘ What shall I

say when he comes in the morning?”

he little man had curled himself up on the
bed and was rolling his head to and fro, but as
Tim repeated the question, be snapped out:

“ Ob, tell’m to go tcr blazes.”

And with that fell asleep, while Mike Marble
sucked away at the bottle, already half empty,
and said in a pitying way:

“ Pore little cuss! he ain’t used to it. But he’s
got slathers of rocks. Tim. Ef you don’t be-
lieve it, jest go through his pockets.”

 

 

The landlord’s eyes glittered; for avarice was
his ruling passion; but, as he looked at Mike, he
thought to himself:

“ It wouldn’t do to trust him. I’ll get him dead
drunk before I do anything. It will take an-
other bottle of whisky; but it’s worth the ex-
pense.”

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
COUNSELOR AND CLIENTS.

WHEN Mr. O’Rourke left the classic precincts
of Mr. Flynn’s select and retired boarding—
house, he glanced keenly up and down the shady
street in which it was located, and observed a
policeman on the opposite side of the street, as he

ad more than half expected to find one.

The counselor’s acquaintance in the ranks of
the “ force” was nearly as large as among the
“ crooked men ” of the city, so he had no
hesitation in going over to the guardian
of the night and accosting him with the familiar
query:

“ Well, Smithie, how goes it?”

“Oh, pretty well, counselor. Good- even-
ing,” was the rather reserved reply, and the
lawyer continued:

“ On duty, eh, Smithie?”

“None of your business, counselor,” returned
Smithie, shortly, at which O’Rourke laughed,

saying]:
“A , I thought so. Much obliged for the in-
formation, my friend.”

Smithie turned his back on him and began to
whistle. He had suffered at the hands of
O’Rourke in a cross-examination in court only
the day before, and felt rather sore about it,
otherwise he would have been civil, and
O’Rourke knew the cause of his gruflness.

“Do you ever drink, Smithie,” he inquired,
slyly, at which the man with the club stopped
w istling, and O’Rourke pursued, sweetly:

“Ye shouldn’t bear malice, me friend. Ye
know I’m an oflicer of the coort, as well as yer-
self, and have to do me duty to me clients.”

“ But you needn’t go to callin’ an honest man
names, and makin’ game of him afore a lot of

aloots on the jury,” retorted Smithie, sulkily.

f you and me warn’t on duty, I’d ’a’ whipped
you or you’d ’a’ whipped me fur what you said,
counselor.”

“ Ah, well, that’s all over, Smithie,” the law-
yer returned, soothingly. “ Come round to
gh’arley Doran’s and take a hot rum to drown
i .

Smithie weakened perceptibly.

“ Idon’t take no stock in hot ruins,” he an-
swered, reluctantly; “ but if it was a hot
Scotch, now, with a bit of peel in it, I ain’t
81156; b 11h f ll 1 d

e s a ave it, i ye wi spoi yer iges-
tion with such stuff,” O’Rourke interrupted.
“ Come alon .”

He had found already what he wanted to
know. The liceman had not been detailed to
watch Tim lynn’s house in particular, or he
would not have left his post.

As they went down the street toward thegbar-
room for which they were bound, the lawyer
observed. carelessly:

“ Tim Flynn’s been pretty quiet lately, I sup-

e.

“Yes. Pretty quiet.”

“No re rts against him? I’m interested in
keeping im straight, you know, because he
owes me mone et.”

“ Then you’ best tell him, as a friend, not to
go tryin’ to rope in men like young Steve

ercy,” returned Smithie. “ You’ve been a
friend of mine, counselor, if you did handle me
rough yesterday, so I’ll tell you. I don’t want
to see you lose no money; but we’re jest layin’
fur Tim, and some night we’ll come down on
him and make a haul.’

“Aha, so you think he’s running—” ~

“A skin me. That’s jest it. There wasa
feller went in yesterday as hain’t come out yet,
and I’m blamed if some of the men didn’t see
young Steve Percy in with him.”

“ Indeed?”

“Yes. Not that I b’lieve it. Reckon it’s only
a stall. What’d a millionaire like him be doin’
in there? He don’t want to play no keno out-
side. when he’s got a house of his own.”

“Well, never mind him. Here’s Charley Do-
ran’s. Come into the back—room.”

And the law er took in the policeman by the
private way, (p 'ed him with “ hot Scotch,’ and
pum d him ry of all he knew on the subject
of Tim Flynn, which proved to be only the fact
that Tim was under police surveillance again,
as a suspicious person.

This much obtained, O’Rourke left his brass—
buttoned friend, restored to amity, and betook
himself to the Ap omattox House, where he
looked over the register and asked, pausing at a

ame:

“ Is Mr. Richards in his room?”

“ Guess so,” returned the night-clerk, indifler-
ently. “ Go u if you want to, counselor.
Third flight bac . Number 87.”

O’Rourke did as he was told, and soon knocked
at the door of No. 87, which was opened to him
by Jas r Bay in person, who nodded silently,
graspe his hand, and pulled him in, saying, in
a low tone:

“I was coming to see you in the morning.
But how did you know I was here?”

“ My man told me. Didn’t he see ye at the
station, and tell ye I waited for ye?”

Jasper hesitated slightly.

“ A man came—that is—a tramp I once had
trouble with—but I couldn’t believe you really
sent him. I thought he was trying to trick me
in some way.”

“ Ye’ll do well, when I send ye messages in
future, to trust me messengers,” said O’Rourke,
rather dr ly. “ If I hadn’t been a better friend
than ye esairve, I’d not have come this blessed
night to ye.”

“ But how did you find me? I’m not here un-
der my own name.”

“ I know it. What’s your trouble? Have
ye been robbing a bank?”

“ Nothing, on my honor. I am in no trouble,
I assure you.”

“ Then why are ye creeping into Chicago
like a thief under a false name? My man fol-
lowed ye, and saw ye write in the register.”

“ Your man? Not be. I watched for him,
and if he’d followed me I should have known he
was straight, but he didn’t.”

“ Not that man. I keep more than one on
my errands. Anyway, ye re here now. What
d’ye want?”

“ To catch a thief.”

“ Who’s the thief?”

“The same man that gave away Schmidt’s
offer to old Wallis, two years ago.”

“ Man ?” echoed O’Rourke, as if i puzzled.
“ Why, that was a woman, ye ignoramus, or—
No, no, I’m thinking of something else. ’Twas
a woman gave it away to ou, and ye didn’t
know enough to make hay w ile the sun shone.
Go on.”

His words seemed to puzzle Jasper.

“What do you mean by a woman? Whom
are you talking about?”

“ Oh, no one, no one,” replied O’Rourke, eva-
sivel . “ Who’s your thief? What’s his name?”

“ is name’s Stover; a small man with little
eyes and a foxy face. He’s stolen ten thousand
dollars, and run away to Percy, with the se-
crets of our com n .”

“ To Percy? ow d’ye know?”

Jasper gave him a short history of the whole
affair; and O’Rourke listened attentively.

When the young man had finished, the lawyer

asked:

“ Well, what’ll ye do? What d’ye want to do
about it?”

“ I want to catch Stover, and make him dis-

gor .”

“glghat’s easy enough. And then?”

Jasper hesitated a ittle.

“ And then. Why, I want—”

“ What d’ye want?”

“ I want to—to see—Miss Wallis.”

“ And why?” asked the lawyer, dryly.

“ I don’t know ” answered Jasper.

“ Neither do  Ye should have made hay
while the sun shorm Now she’s going to be
married to Paircy.”

Jasper ground his teeth.

"‘ So it said in the paper; but I didn’t believe
it. ’

 

“ Of course ye didn’t. D’ye know why?”

“ No. What do you mean?"

“Because ye didn’t want to believe it. Oh,
there’s a vast dale of human nature in ye yet,
Jasper.”

“ Then you think it’s true?”

“Of courSe it is. Haven’t they been at the
new house, night and day, he and the ould gen-
tleman?”

“ Ah! but not she? She has not been there to
help them?”

“ Divil blame her. She’s more sinse than you

e.

“ What do you mean?”

“ I mane that you couldn’t read her when e
had the ogportunity; but she can read you li e
a book. he’s been putting off things, in the
hope that ye’d come back for her, and ye’ve
come, if ye haVen’t come too late.”

J eaper began to get excited.

“ hat? then do you think that I have a
chance to win that peerless being?”

“Peerless being? Jasper Ra , me boy, when
ve’ve been married as long as have, bad luck

me, ye’ll find that women are all alike.
They don’t have any peerless beings among
them. Ye have a chance, if ye know how to
:ake ’it, and don’t throw it away, like ye did he-
ore.

Jasper looked more and more excited and
eager as he burst out:

“ O’Rourke, you’re the first and best friend I
ever had. You gave me my first advice, and
by following it, I rose from a plodding country
boy to a competence. Now Will you advise me
on m future? for, I admit, I’m in a serious
quan ary. I don’t know what to do.”

“ I’ll not do anything till ye ring for some
cigars and something to drink. I’ve a vigor-
ous constitution, and no nairves. D’ye mind
that?”

And he would not say a word till a table was
spread, and they were both smoking quietly,
while Jasper was becoming calmed down from
the state of nervous excitement in which
O’Rourke had seen him to be.

.Then the lawyer said, between pufls of his
01 r:

‘ ow, me old pupil, fire away. Tell me the
whole story. First, ye want to marry Edith
Wallis; is that it?”

Jasper sighed.

“ Ah, I fear that’s impossible.”

“And why?”

“She’s too far above me.”

“Above ye? Pho! one would think Tye were
a poor divil of an Irishman, in his own country.
Don’t ye know that one man’s as good as an-
other in this country, ye omadhaun?”

J a‘sper sighed more deeply than before.

“ es, as good as another man, but not a lady.
Ah, no one could equal her.”

“ That’s what they all sa before they’re mar-
ried. Now tell me whats the maxim I gave
ye when ye were a boy that’s helped ye most?”

J as er reflected a moment.

“ ou told me that the difference in men lay
in knowled , and that one man was as good as
another. I ve found the first only partially
true. The great difference between men in our
country seems to be money, and that is all that
people value.”

“ You’re right. But what gets money?”

“Knowledge and industry; but it comes so
slowly,” said Jas r, rather sadly. “I’m sure
I’ve worked ha enough; but my whole store
does not amount to more than one per cent. of
her fortune.”

“ And you want to make money then? Is
that it, J asper?”

“ I do. want to make my fortune equal to
hers, so that I can go to her and say that I am
no fortune-hunter.’

“ I see. You want to be as good as the lady’s
money, not counting the lady at all.”

“ No, no; I don’t mean that—”

“ Ye do. Ye'll not contradict me. Now
listen to me, Jasper Ray. How old are ye to-
day?” '

“ Twenty-seven.”

And Jasper sighed.

“ What are ye sighing about?”

“To think that I’m as old as I am, and yet
haven’t made a fortune, or done anything
worthy of a man.”

“ Hum! Is that it? What would ye have?
D’ye want some one to die and leave ye 9. mil-
lion?”

“No. I want to make it myself.”

“ Ye do. Did ye ever hear of a man of
twenty-seven that had made a million of dollars
himself?”

J afiper looked thoughtful.

“ o, I can’t say I have; but then look at Mr.
Wallis. He was a carpenter, and he’s worth—”

“ D’ye know how much?”

“ No, but it must be several millions at least.
Look at his style of living.”

“ Well, I’ll tell ye just how much he’s worth,
Jasper,” said the lawyer, slowl . “I’ve had
occasion to look into his affairs ately for a cli-
ent of me own, a lad ; and he’s worth just
afiqut ten thousand dol ars less than nothing at
a .

J as r turned pale with excitement.

“ hat? Do you mean he’s ruined?”

“I said no such thing. But if his creditors
choose to sell him up, e won’t have a cent to
his name.”

“ And who are they?”

“ Gentlemen that won’t press him, for a very
good reason.”

“ A reason?”

“ Certainly. They want his vote. He’s a
senator, and that’s worth enough to put him on
his feet, if it’s well used.”

Jasper looked blankly at the lawyer.

“ Then what am I to do? Oh I’m so glad he’s
no richer than I am, for nowI can go to her
and say-”

“Say what?” asked O’Rourke, as the young
man hesitated.

“ Say to her: ‘ My fortune is equal to yours
now, therefore I can ask you to be my wife.’ ”

“ Ye’d say that; would ye?”

“ Certain y.”

“And ye d be a regular ass, Jasper, a long—
eared, brayiug Neddy, so ye would. D’ye know
what she’d tel ye?”

“ What?”

“She’d tell ye ye’d made a little mistake, and
that she was engaged to Mr. Pairc .”

“ Why? Do you mean that s e loves that
contemptible—cowardlly—”

“ Chut, chut! That’l do, I know ye hate him;
but it’s bad taste to call him names. He’s our
rival, and he’s worth money if ould allis
isn’t.”

“ And you mean then that-”

“ That he’s VVallis’s principal creditor, me
brave boy, and that ye’ve got to be as rich ashe
is to fight him. BeSides, t e lady was brought
up in luxury, and ye can’t ofler her a home such
as she’s used to, while Mr. Paircy can do just
that same.”

.Jas r’s countenance fell.
“ ou don’t offer much encouragement to a

man.”

“Ye asked for advice, I’m giving it. I tell
ye, ye’ve one chance out of a hundred to win
the lady from Paircy. D’ye want to do it or
not?” '

“ Want to do it?” echoed Jasper. “Why, my
whole life will be miserable if she marries that
fellow.”

“ Ah, so you think.”

“ I know it. You don’t know the way in
which my whole soul is wrapped up in the ex-
istence of—”

“There, there, me boy, I’ve heard it all be-
fore. It’s in the play of Romeo and Juliet, only
they were Italians and he was a young divi ,
'ust like Paircy, with more money than brains,

ad luck to him. If he’d been in Ireland it’s not
poison he’d have been takin’, but good whisky,
which is much better.”

“But I tell you that you can jest as much
as you like, O’Rourke. I can’t live without
that girl.”

“ That’s just what Romeo said when he took
the poison, like a fool, when if he’d waited a
quarter of an hour to think over it, sure, Juliet
would have waked up, and they’d have been all
right. No. no, me boy, don’t give us anything
Of that. D’ye want to get Edith Wallis?”

 

“I do, I do, I do,” said Jasper, earnestl .

“That’s enough. Now for me advice. §e’ve
only one way to get her.”

“ And that is?”

“ To make a fortune.
everything ye’ve got?”

“Ten times over. I’m willing to risk any-
Ehing, for I feel that I might as well die if I lose

er.

“So ye said before. Now then, I’ll tell ye.
There’s only one way to make money quickly
in any country.”

“ And that is?”

“To take risks and gamble. I see you start
at the word. Very well. I don’t want to tempt
ye. How much have ye to lose, in cash?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

O’Rourke grinned.

“ And ye were grumbling just now at your
poverty. D’ye know how much old Paircy had
at your a e?”

“ No. ow much?”

“ Divil a cent. He was forty before he got a
fair hold on the market, and it took him nearly
thirty cars more to make what he did. Old
age an goold go in couples, Jasper. Ye’d bet-
ter give up the lady, and do as Wallis and
Paircy did at your age.”

“ And what was that?”

“Married poor women, and wore them out in
pinching and saving, so that the kids could on-

Are ye willing to risk

joy the fortune,” answered the lawyer, cynical--

. “ Ye can’t have cash and happiness to-
gether, Jasper. That’s asking too much. One
ye can have. Choose which.’

“I’ve no choice. I must make a fortune, oriI
shall never beat Percy.”

“ Very well, cash be it, then. Now we’ll set
in for serious talk, and, mind ye, not a word to
a soul. I see a way out of all this, Jasper Ray,
that will end in making both our fortunes, and
if e take it and win the day, I’ll go hail the
la 1y ’11 have ye.”

hey settled down, as the lawyer produced
some pa rs and went into some intricate calcu—
lations. hen they separated, O’Roui-ke’s watch
pointed to the hour of three in the morning, and
his last words to Jasper were:

“ If we can do it, ye see where Paircy will be,
and ye’ll be master of the situation.”

(T o be continued—commenced in No. 19.)

 

 

Casual Mention.

 

THE wife of John Oliver, of Jeffersonville,
Ind., has been totally blind for many years.
She does all her own housework, including the
cooking and ironing, besides the milking of the
family cow. She refuscs to have a servant-girl
about the house.

REV. W. H. H. MURRAY says: “ A modest
woman has more security from insult in the
streets of San Antonio than on Boston Common.
The Texan of ever grade is habitually courte-
ous to women. or is he quarrelsome with
men. At least, such is my observation.”

A'r a wood—cutting contest in McKean county,
Pa., a few days ago, two women won the first
prize for cross-cut sawing, the contestants work-
ing in pairs. If women really desire to compete
with men in industrial pursuits, here is a field
they may occupy and no man will molest them.

BROTHER GARDNER‘S philosophy :—“ Theories
am all right onless a man am two months he-
hind on his rent. Doctrines am all right when
a family hain’t shibberin’ wid cold. Individual
opinions count fur nuffin’ when de individual
cgn’tnraise cash ’nufl to get a patch on his
5 0e.

THE com letion of the iron bridge of the
Atlantic an Pacific railway over the Canyon
Diablo, in Arizona, adds another to the list of
high bridges. It spans a dark, gloomy gorge.
The bridge is 240 feet above the water, and 541
feet long. It weighs 837,130 pounds, and it
cost $200,000.

Max MULLER, in a recent article in the Con-
temporary Review, speaks very highly of the
moral character of the Hindoos, and says he has
been frequently told by English merchants that
commercial honor stands higher in India than
in any other country, and that a dishonored bill
is hardly ever known there.

A PHYSICIAN states that the mortality from
pneumonia is nearly always larger in Ma than
in December, which he attributes to t e ex-
posures and want of conveniences, bare floors.
poor fires, badly cooked food carelessness about
bed and body clothing, cold and perhaps wet
rooms, incident to May moving.

OF a thousand well-to—do persons and another
thousand of poor persons there remained alive
after five years of the prosperous 943, of the
poor only 655. After fifty years there remained
of the prosperous 557, of the poor 283. At 70
years of age there remained 235 of the pros-
perous and of the poor 65. The aviarage length
of life among the well-to-do was 50 years and
among the poor 32 years. _

IN Miles City, Montana, the Methodists be-
lieve in receiving contributions from anybody,
whether good or bad, who is disposed to give.
They place contribution~boxes in the drinking-
saloons, and some of the patrons of those estab-
lishments drop a coin or two in whenever they
take a drink. The boxes become as full of
money as the customers do of drink.

IN' no large city on the Mississippi river, ex-
cept Memphis, is to be seen a busy population
and fine buildings on one side, and on the other
bank thick woods, a wilderness where the
canebrakes, huge poplars, and the melancholy
0 press contend with the annual floods. Says a

emphis paper: “ So wild is the country over
the river that bear-hunts have been organized
under our bluffs, and the game killed almost
within view of our houses.”

THE San Francisco Past declares that there
exists in Montana, and the place is well known
to many Montanans, a cave in which is piled an
immense number of bones and skulls of bison,
buffalo, deer, bear and smaller animals. These
bones are carefully piled along the sides of the
cave, and number thousands. It is supposed
they were placed there by Indians. The cave is
not over thirty miles from the line of the Utah
and Northern Railroad, and is near the southern
boundary of Montana.

SCABCELY any characteristic of the German
Em eror is more marked than his aversion to
capital unishment. In the period from 1861. to
1878 on y 26 out of 218 capital sentences were
carried .out, and during the next decade, of 429
criminals condemned to death, Hodel, the
would be assassin, was the only one executed.
During the years 1879 and 1880 only one capital
sentence out of eighteen was executed, and there
were only four executions in each of the years
1881 and 1882. The almost invariable commuta-
tion of the death sentence has been to penal ser-
vitude for life.

THE Oregon Astorian says the Chinese gar-
dens on the lOWer part of the peninsula afford a
good example of what patient thrift can accom-
plish. These industrious heathens have, by care
and toil, transformed unsightly hillsides into
fertile tracts of soil, now sown with every va-
riety of vegetables and sure to bring them a
handsome return. They are all at work, dig-
ging, manuring, and o ening up fresh ground;
everything is utilize ; even the bones are
pounded up and fed to the hens, and each little
cabin has half a dozen fat hogs, which, at the
present price of pork, represent a considerable
amount.

THE Paris Figaro recently astonished its con-
fiding readers with a grave account of English
“dogs with a handle.” “ \Vlien the dog is quite
young,” said the veracious French journal. “ an
incision is made in its tail near the root, and the
tail is then curved double so as to bring its tip
into the incision, where it speedily adheres and
takes firm root. In a few days all traces of the
wound disappear, and the dog’s tail can then be
used as a handle to carry him through crowds
across the street, etc. A French dog would
rebel against this treatment; but English dogs,
being naturally plilegmatic, submit to the muti-
lation wfithout a. wink.

 

Popular Poems.

——r ~40 w—H—

TO LET.

 

A outh went out to serenade
he lady whom he loved best, v
And passed beneath the mansion‘s shade
Where erst her chamber used 10 rest.

He warbled till the morning light
Came dancing o’er the nill-tops’ rim,
But no fair Innidei greeted his sight,
And all seemed dark and dream to him.

With heart aglmv and eyes ablaze.
He drew much nearer than before.
When, to his horror and amaze,
He saw “ To Let” upon the door.
——You(h’s Companion.

 

 

201
WHAT’S IN A NAME.

“ Where do you go, my pretty maid?"
The insinuating drummer said.

“ 1’m going all the way,” said she, .

“ To my humble home in Kankakee I”

Then after waiting a little while——
“ May I ask you, sir, where do you go?”
And the drummer answered with a smile,
“To my lordly home at Kokomo.”

Then outright spoke the conductor bold:
“ There’s some mistake between you two.

If you’re going home you’ve missed your hold,
For this train goes to Kalamazoo!”

“ Oh, what shall I do?” the maiden cried,

“ The "ll think I'm dead, my ma and pa!”
“ Too ba !” the staitled drummer sighed;

“ Come to my friends in Waukesha!"

And she smiled and blushed and most forgot
That he was but a stranger man,
And that mistake altered her whole lot,
For they got married at Waukegan.
—Travellers’ Magazine.

 

:0:
THE CRUCIAL TEST.

Deeply learned. fresh from school,
Comes my all-accomplished daughter!
Newly freed from bookish rule,
Say, what wisdom have they taught her?
’Ologies I care not for,
Mystic science, classic lore,
So she be but skilled enough in
Homely arts to toast my muflin.

 

Knows she, as her mother knew,
Recipes and quaint directions?
How to bake, to boil, to brew
Dainty sirups, sweet confections?
Or, as others of her sex,
Born and nurtured but to vex,
Scarcely knows she of such stuff in
Nature as untoasted muflln?

Have they trained her to pursue

Pastimes merely ornamental?

And, with princely retinue,

To expend a Rothschild‘s rental?
Can she nothing do but dance,
Paint on china, dream romance?

Well, perhaps I grow too rough in
Expectation of my muffin!

Come then, pretty maid, at once
Prove my Jealous fears unfounded,
Make me own myself the dunce,
All my gibes on envy grounded.
Yet one warning word believe,
Mind of man can naught conceive
So unconquerably tough, in
Human ken, as half-cooked mufiln.
—Kz’ngston Daily Fleeman.

 

20:

 

A SUPER-SENSITIVE MAN.

He was good, he was brave, still was sadly afraid
That women prized only his rental;

Yet ideal devotion he sought in a maid,
For the goose was, you see, sentimental.

But she was so charming, so winning, and sweet,
The darlingest girl in the city!

Such a plain, quiet fellow could never compete
With 's rivals both handsome and witty.

His love with his fears cruel warfare long waged,
When one eve, in the course of his wooing,

He forgot to be frightened, proposed, was engaged,
Ere either knew what they were doing.

Two hours swiftl passed. a dream without break,
In soft words t t won’t hear repeating,

And then as he rose, his departure to take,
Both were struck with the “ sense of the meeting.“

He turned in retense of inspecting some toy,
But twinge with a sharp melancholy;

“ To imagine my life could be crowned with such joy;
Oh. worse than a fool in my folly!

’Tis my fiealth that she nets, while my heart she be-

i es; '

Sucgla jewel demands a rich setting,

And her rapturous smiles are but feminine wiles,
As I’ll find when too late for regretting.”

And meanwhile she stood there adoring his back,
And felt her poor heart beating faster

At thought of her freedom now gone all to rack,
At the touch of her destihy’s master.

A nick flash of feeling gave warning of tears,

ut to weep would, she thought, be atrocious;

So she doubled her fists to fight down her fears,

Assuming a frown quite ferocious.

Her kittenish caper he lainly beheld,
In the ier-glass besi e him reflected; .

Making aces at him! So his last hopes were f01led.
“ Thank Heaven her deceit I‘ve detected!”

Too hurt for reproaching, he hurriedly left,
And a letter availed to discover,

That an accident, hapless, her life had bereft
Of her super-sensitive lover.

She answered the idiot whose heart she had “ wreck-

e .
That since he had failed to believe her,
So suspicious a man she could never respect,
Then took to her bed with a fever.
He. sailed with a spirit so heavy it near
Had sunk the ship in mid-ocean;
But returned; they were married early last year,
And forgot is their courtship’s commotion.
—St. Louis Republican.

 

201

 

THE MODEL AMERICAN GIRL.

 

BY VIRGIL A. PINKIJI.

 

A practical, plain young girl; _
Not-afraid—o -the-rain young girl;
A poetical posy,
A ruddy and rosy.
A helper-of-self young girl.

At-home—in-her-place young girl;
A never—will-lace young gir ;

A toiler serene,

A life pure and clean,
A princess—of—peace young girl.

A wear—her-own-hair young girl;
A free-froni-a-stare young girl;
Improves eve? hour,
No sickly sun ower,
A wealth-of—raresense young girl.

Plenty-room-in-her-shoes young girl;
No iiidul er-in-blues youn girl;
ot a bang on her row,
To fraud not a bow,
She’s a justwvhat-she-seems young girL

Not a reader-of-trash 'oung girl;
Not a clieap-jewel-flas 1 young girl;
Not a sipper of rum,

Not a chewcr of gum,
A marvel-of-sense young girl.

An early-retiring young girl;
An active, aspiring young girl;
A morni -ariser,
A dandy- espiser,
A progressive, American girl.

A lover-ofvprose young girl;

Not a-turn-np-your—nose young girl;
Not given to splutter,
Not ‘ utterly utter,”

But a matter—of—fact young girl.

A rightly-ambitious young girl;

Red-lips-mostdelicious young girl;
A sparkling clear eye.
That says “ i will try,”

A surc—to-succced young girl.

A11 honestly—courting young girl;
A iicver-seen-flirting young girl;
A quiet and pure,

A modest, demure,

A iit-for-a-wife young girl.

A sought-everywhere young girl:
A fiiture-most-fair young girl;
An ever discreet,
I’Ve too seldom mcci
This queeii-ainong-qiiecns young girl.
——Cincimmfi Enquirer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. I ,:_ ,. . . .. ..
.. . U .. < 4
J:  .H . --.A .. . r:  _- “‘1”

~ _ ., . -14-1:."~.“...it;;

'r'fi'l ' ‘ . 1‘5

. :5

 

 

 

 

 

"aluminum;

 

minimum

,. 'l|,,.muuunmrmurn

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
   

Published every Monday morning at nine o‘c.’0r-k.

 
  
 
  

NEW YORK, MAY 26, 1883.

    

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(iptions, and let-
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Take Notice.

Serials appearing in this WEEKLsz'll not i
be republished in Library or book form. Back
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A NEW ROMANCE

Working His Way Up!

By the Author of “Jasper Ray,”

 

“John Armstrong, Mechanic,” etc.

 

This time it is the printer whose career from
the ’prentice to. the proprietor is traced in a; ki
story of fascinating interest, as a story, and ‘
bristling with its direct and indirect suggestive-
ness and lessons of workingmen’s life and rights

NEXT TO FOLLOW!

The Wide Awake Papers

Rear Views of Life.

MOST of our views of 1i
upon these we form
tious which are Ofte
unces are deceitful is a
wide acceptance.
then. that estimation
founded upon the worl
life—which is always

 

 

fe are front views; and -
opinions and base sup

proposition of world-
may safely predicate,
s of people and things
d-side, the front view, of
the “ show” or “ up
-side but far from always a genuine
false as true; and that to
eople. things, and afl’airs,
udgments upon such rear
may be able to g
e that the man who heads a
-list with a gift of a hundred
ous man, or th

——are as often
judge correctly of p
we must base our j
views of them as we
hardly safe to assum
church subscription
dollars is a gener
that lives in a “ brownstone-fr
elegantly-furnished hall
perous family.
“ brownstone-front ”
are front views of
down in that churchman’s cel
aying the man who put in the
aggliug about the price, and on
yard you see him giving remunera
ment to some halflstarved wretch
you find items represe
les that found their w
or, and in his workshop you hear
f him as a fair and liberal mas-
fely conclude that he is a gen-
What a man does in his cellar, and
and his workshop, what he does
cannot see and is n
are the acts by wh
his character In
at. These may be conceded t
rear of his life; certain]
sent its public, its show si _
ing with such appearances of el
perity can show a clear title—
their house, or prompt]
second and thi
ing-room and kitchen, as
respondingly, as the front-
a well-set, well-provided
garments made of excellent in
be justified in adjudglng that

 

ont ” with an

.M w “MN-b w.

 

The hundred-dollar gift and the

and fine parlor and hall

ter, you may sa

his back yard,
that the world

estimation of ay he arrived

0 represent the
y they do not repre-
If the family liv-

unmortgage —to
paid renbbills, and
rd story rooms, diu-
well-furnished, cor-
parlor and ball, and
e, and plenty of
aterials, you may
family a prosper-

If all our estimati

one of people were based in
this way—upo

u what we could learn of their
of their family relations, of their
nclples, and most secret d
r estimations co
a neighborly surveillance of

and wind0ws,

innermost pm

even if all on uld be based upon

eir back yards
3 would shake
ten we should see our “dear
by a back window,
been assured that
ow many houses
roken frontage o
dered shades, lace cu
es, we should find
and or no shades at all at the
y families we should discover
nd closed blinds, of
summer while the fami
How many cha
ness between people
yin society. How
gentlemen callers
ows shortly after
ness for the day.
be highest estima-
thould see throw-
sly to pretty chamber-
waitresses, and enter-
at nightly orgies
are summering in
inners we should re-
ones and cheap stews
buffet crowded with
us we should notice
convenience though
ront basements are

what revolution

frien "lolling co
but a minute after we had
she was “out.”

w.“ _

and plush draperi
stained white Holl
back. How man
living in rear
houses “ closed for the
spends the season abro
ing flirtatious we should wit
who were all frigid dignit
many times we should obser
smoking at back-parlor wind
husbands had gone to busi
How many men held in t
y the community we
g kisses surreptitiou

u.“

N- ‘wv'i

tainiug female
while wife and children

 

by people who display a
How many kitche
destitute of almost
tables in the f
read with decorated

abby furniture and worn-out
should note in second and third
rooms of houses gorgeou
parlor-floor and in th
much shrewish scolding of
ging of children, we should
nine lips that only murmur
curve in seraphic smiles
How freely we should h
rude commands. and brutal re
bands who to their wiv

in dulcet tones and
“before company.”
‘ curse it,” and
torts. from hus-
es in public are quite

wear and cheap hosie
y washes belonging

. people who walk
the streets In outside garments

of silk and satin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

of shop-work we should find to be
by women who treat a as if she werea

These rear views of life are
ling, sometimes disgustin
seldom ludicrous.
was eminently I
had, not long sin

sometimes start-

Certalnly that
udicrous which a gentleman
cc, of his nearest neighbor in a J

  
   
 
 

wobble.

ahead.

rest and ride.

 

your

the bicycle.

If you find your machine is
with you, do not try to curb it

the curb stone,
gra h-pole.
vii.

en a horse fri
away, the true kni
diater take afteri
before any damag
whereby he may win her hand.

If you should take a header and

the air and come d0wn into a coal-ho
rformance: so don’t do it.
was all legs, what kind of a
ride an eighty-inch

be a very dirty pe
If a young man
hairpin would he
wheel? Tongs cannot tell.
It is not very nice to be
11 up in the air—
air all the same.
Along the railroads
iug signal—“ Railroa
Bicycle.” So if an
off it will be its own
Ixion was the first wheel-m
have any account, but he did
out of it, though he was bou

went.

DO not go round t
less. you desire to

busmess.

thing fell.
Su
off

you wheel right.

Avoid the dust: don
It is s
and it isn’t nice on a
Do not run into n
the wagon the man ha
Somehow or other t
bicycles more uurul
never can see why it is.
The bicycle is the c
the boys want to bu
Grease the rubber
machine run slicker.
The old lady was
she said. at the sigh

get in it flat.

astraddle of a b

self

Riding a bicycle is nothin

I could ride t
side by side.

road.

have seen some

Never allow 8

Well, unless you
Whatever you

chine over the tr
stand alone in the

 

 

 

      

 

  

 

 

car. The first man was already seated when a
second entered whose a
goodly bank account. He was dressed in
of style, with immaculately
shoes, 8. glistening silk hat of t
faultless gloves elaborately st
erect of high collars, a Newmarket coat to his
heels, and he carried the regulation cane with
hammered silver.
prise and intense
when this beuut
tails, to seat himse
part of his trowsers two good
which the whiteness of h
showed with amazing distinctness.
'udged by his general appearance,

een credited with
and elegance; but an
a rear view could hard
than a fraud and a 1’
who reads this and i
seal-rings, and chain
coats, at the cxpens

' can be accounted for,
there or from whence
can be comprehended,
a question for solution.
much better, and if be sufficient
as to resume his position, he will
deavor to be more cautious, w
not to swallow slimy lizards at the same

A Yankee’s Adventures.

L. S. STRICKLAND. a
L. C. Strickland of South
five years ago, on account
started for Australia.
party of thirteen to the
seeking gold, and until
was heard from him and it
he was dead. Mr. Stricklan
has just received a letterd
ramatta, a small island nea
ter reaching the interior of the
ptured by the savages,
nibal and still eat human flesh.
ght of the company Were
For some reason not stated,
were spared, and in some
and this was the first
nd had of sending in-
He wrote that it was impos-
aper the sufferings he had en-
at time, or the fe

but how long it had been

ppearauce betokened a it originated is more than

younger brother of

 

shining pointed
he newest shape,

elly is feeling
itched, the most

of very poor health, ly recovers so

He went thence with a
island of New Guinea,
days ago nothing
was believed that
d of Southin

But to the sur-
musement of the first man,
I creature parted his Coat-
ed in the upper
ly holes through

this experience, we presume
be. The doctors who stout]
ever that no reptile can live in the stomach w

seems that at now hide their diminished heads.

 

Patent llot-bed;"
A Kentucky Paradise.

A LOCAL journalist in “ Old Kaintuck " thus
word-palms his State and its

“ Millions of ex
with a keeper zest
the springtime dawned
youths and maidens,
life from the ecstati
ruptures and new clothes.
experienced relief on the fi
spring, which was last
natural ; for the storm
drear. crypt-like days 0
persistent winter had engendered
to hopelessness. The flowering
roses are the glory of the Southern 3
The atmosphere is green,
ard roseate with the var
with the tracery of leaves.
white, trees stand like brides, trem
pectunt, beneath su
through the tangled
pink from the thron
tree; every stump and
by the eager tendrils
which springs to each convenien
robes it like a. kin

roasted and eaten.

the remaining five
way contrived to esca
opportunity Mr. Stric
formation home.

sible to put on p
dured during th
ences which had befallen
return home during the su

The Checker Champion.

9 what the papers say, then
on of the World lives near
James Wiley, a
that enterpris-
has beaten the

the possession of money
opinion Of him based upon
ly indorse him as other
col: and that young man
s conscious that he sports
s, and fine hats, and smart
e of rugged underwear, or
though no one has yet discovered
his secrets, may rest aswred that he is foolish,
g money for subscription, deceitful, wicked, and unworth
any person whose res
worth having.

In ordering our lives
better rule to follow
not dread to have th
us from the rear—to have on
our friends, scan the
our lives as freely
the best life wh
public; but he who 5
judgment-seat of his
ness, knowing that he has never
l o which, or its motive, he wo
‘ to have all the world know.

J. E. G. Hardly
do for some local
pectant hearts have throbbed
since the first days of
upon us. The frisky
ever sanguine, and viewin
c stand oint, go into free

named. Get th

CALIFORNIA'JEHU.
fectly true incident,"
matters of fact one of

him. He expects to

y the respect of
pect and friendship is

 

IF we are to believ
the checker chnmpi
., in the person of
The Free Press. of
ing town, a=sures us that Wiley
best players in Europe and Am
now about sixty years of age.
and, like Horace Gr

there can scarcely be 0
than to so live that we shall
s prying eyes view
r enemies, as well as
private ways and deeds of
as the public ones. He lives not
0 lives the fair

a feeling akin
trees and the Index Dxcx. See answer in last week‘
—See the standing announce

arid Some", 3" Pink: first column, about republication of

ying bloom min

est before the

YOUNG Anmcm. We
tands at peace before the

knowledge of the
recommend you to

His hairis white,
eeley, he wears a beard un-
His deafness makes it i
to carry on a conversation with him.
quietly, not taking his 9
taking no notice of those
thing except his game.
and has an intelligent and
He has done nothin
ers ever since he was fif co
the Free Press: “ He loo
and before an ordina
menced he has won.
by playing, as there are

who willingly give twen
with him, and plenty mo
amount to see him play.

and has been in this count
although this is not his firs

perabundant nuptial lace;
greenery there is a flush of
ging blossoms of the Judas
prostrate trunk is clasped
ow jessamine,
t tree and en-
g in cloth of gold, crowns it
golden crown. and hangs in lordlv fes-
g the gray Spanish moss, each flower
y diffusing its exquisite, entrancing
ur feet crush the large blue and white
while high above the rent
gnolia look out of their fo-
fair women upon lovers far
everywhere, you see
bewildering, enchant-
8 well as their great
cannot surpass
te, pink, crim-
crushed-stra Wherry-red;
s rioting over trellises,
framing house-windows,
ite billows over summer-
nestling in fragrant
ir women; laughing
We have greater
springtime. The
woods today are
no ble roses of the
They are the first—born of the
quickening sun, the

done one deed
uld be ashamed yes off the board, and
about him or of any-

He wears spectacles
kindly face and good
g else but play check-
n years of age.
ks away into the
opponent has com-
makes a good living
plenty of enthusiasts
ty-five cents to
re who will give that
He lives in Scotland,
y about six mou

Vick, of Rocth
brm' g it out for you.

BLvsaINa JOE. No “ medical advice ” will avail to
cure blushing. You will 0
ally obtaining confidence.
Simply try to be at ease.

YOUNG MAN. It oug
ter to be reconciled .
a nore saying you regret tl‘e misund
wish to resume the old relations.

Coxlsrmh READER.
curab e b av n some on

y 1% is half habit—h

BELLE BRIGHT.
*

' The flflapers.

Science (in a. Big Wheel.

gant tread-mill of speed.
space and the only thing
eeps its perpendicular by its

violets at every step,
white cups of the ma

THE bicycle is the ele liate easements like

‘ the condenser of

this world that k lucent miracles of bloom,

ing by their profusion a
The roses of Gh
those of the South.
son, yellow, peach,
roses in hedges: rose
climbing on walls,
flowing in crimson wh
fences and walls;
clusters in the bosoms of f
in the hair of laughing girl .
floral wealth in our Kentucky
little flowers you gather in the
more precious than the fashio
persistent florist.
spring, the first-b0
pregnant oil, the open air.
‘

Focused Pa eta.

The cross-eyed rider
vantage over all others;
center of the street, look
sidewalks and keep an ev

possesses a superior ad-
he can go down the
at the girls on both
en mean as he spins

 

You must take lessons under
learn the art by practice. _ it
when you can practice daily.

MARION V. Your case is so clearly one of statute
g its own laws of entail, descent
u will have to consult a well-
yer. In contract law, however,
rinciple that no heir can violate
or change the terms of a will, and the mother could
not alienate J. ‘3 interest in the common

Her will of course would have been set asl
court—A desertlon of seven
od and sufficient cause for

the term fixed by most States.
“ DAvm COPPERFIELD."
tion of the word glamour, is,
moor ; as if spelled gla moor.
"everybody says "is not a ways correct. .
your bet, and must exonerate your frrend from
against him, as he was
apply; accom-

t

Mr. Callahan Prospers.

“ HOW is Joe Callahan
“ Tl l-top,” replied the
em niggers around there.
reduced to a science.
for all they’re worth, I tell
rally gets all that’
erry Johnson, the
Smith farm, brou
which Joe had a dead grip on in the
crop mortgage.
store account and th
says to Jerry:

“ ‘ Them six bale
and I’ve allowed

“He did not te
lowed him four-sto
fiour he had advanced
‘ just exactly even,
so without the all
cause of truth.

“ ‘ Well,’ says J
lucky dat I lef’
have not come out “
fotched dat odder bale
,’ says Callahan,
u’sted if I didn
them figgers—a mistake Of

lcrs, by Jupiterl Bring in
morx ow and I’ll gi

getting along?”
It has been compute

ck higher when it d
animal, including the gir

It is wonderful .how a silver-plated machine
offers so much less resistance to the air w
motion than the pl liner ones.

It makes the bear
tle innocent hind wh
keep up with the bi
humans to take it up once in a

d that the bicycle can v5 (defch SgEfufiayg
" an vorc

5 lack than any other W Virginia law

it is an established p

He goes for ’em
u; and he gene—

t nigger .who lives on the old
tache to see that poor lit- ght m SIX bales
its best to try to
would be more

r figuring up t
while and let it

9 price of the cotton, Joe

Keep on, young tyro, you will soon learn to
engineer the machine; but the main
keep on, as you will probably learn.
It is a gay sight to see a
the road in all the activ
hood, but be careful
posi-~ : don’t take it at full le
lausible ambition t
act, it will pay you wel
times, and not go down.

If somebody should as you go bi-c
dog at you, try and prevent your mac
shying and throwing vou.

You will always find it be
machine wants to lie down a
let it down gently
much of a. hurry u

If you find from th
rounding objects the
ing down, or overboard
immediately, and climb down

IVOen rounding
sary how you turn
your bicycle and le

The first time I e
I thought it would
suvius; and I fell
raise me up with a

It is very necessary to divide
evenly in your rig

alla

5 makes us just exactly evbn.
on top prices on them.’
the nigger that he had al-
rices on the bacon and
im in order to make it
’ although he could have done
ghtest damage to the great

 

THE thirty women employed in one shoe fac-
tory in Lynn, Mass, all are divorced wives.
A SILK-WORM grower at Mont
expects to make a profit of $3,000
has 70,000 worms at work in the fi
steps which terminate in silk.

A MAN by the name of
employed in aDenver bi
swallowed a live bull
which he drank a glas
he felt remarkably wel
to have been six inches long an
across the breast.

M. DE LESSEPS return
month’s journey in Africa
subject of the proposed 83
the canal of communication, one hu
eighty kilometres long,

five years. and at one-six
by the Government Com
against the scheme.

THE Canadian Pacific company and land com-
nies interested in the development of the
propose to settle 25,000
nd on Government lauds
laws, becoming security
ed interest free by Great
to be devoted to loans suf-

young bicycler take

urges you made
ity or his early man-

neither ignorant nor afi'ecte
plishment to be able to pronounce all .
of one‘s own language correctly. We would advise
you to procure the latest edition of Webster’s Un-
ou too rashly correct
whanistan is called an

gomery, Ala”
You should have a

p up in the race—in

rst and second
1 to kerp up at all

ed Dictionary. before
erry ‘I reckon hi your riends.—A native of A
I

one bale at home.

Charles Moon, who is
jess ’zackly even ” ef I’d

lliard saloon, recently
-frog on a wager, after
of whisky and said that

neighbors first, 0f
‘ I’ll be most em-
‘t make a mistake in
just forty-seven do!-

that other bale to-
ve you a clear receipt—I will,

they receive some.
tter when your
nd rest a little to

, genrl y, and don‘t be in too

ed home from his

e reversed position of sur— enthusiastic upon the

in danger of go-
t your fire-escape

 

Lafitte’s Gold.

t” from Pensacola to the
belief yet prevails
uried treasures in
In New Iberia the negroes
nd qurte over

ALL “along coas
Rio Grande sand-b
that the pirate Lafitte b
various haunts.

have dug the isla
revails that a
that is and between
ed to mark the s
trees are, square

 

 

can be cut through in
th of the cost estimated
mission which reported

a corner it is highly neces-

it is not best to turn off
t it go on without you.
ver tried to mo
be lessdifllcult
that they had to

AMERICA. 1. A

Select a pearl or d

, for the story
great box was buried on
four trees expressly plant-
t, so wherever one or more
be curious have
phin Island, of! Mobile,
y one in the gulf, each has
ug been the saving-box of
not one but has been care-
ers after what he left be-
ng is a disease, the germs
a greater or less degree in
and unknown has an at-
nd the definite.

upon the first or third finge

nadian Northwest
emigrants from Irela
under the homestead
for sums to be advanc
Britain for ten years,
ficient to start each f
IN a recent speech delivered in B

gave the following
ics of the year 1880,
for war preparations in Eu-
y from seven to ten

d' -ri . 3. No- it
mlzfiy figs at a time. It is t
present, to wear rings on
upon the second, third _ _
have enough pretty ones to distribute t
tleman wears rings upon the third or f
of one hand, only.
Ton. If you wish to
you say that is “ part 0 the agreement "
sel pin? If the young lady
should not wear silver ones
time, as that would he ve
solid silver lace-pins a

ht and left pdc
st “trim.”
I am busily engaged in
cow-catcher for the bicycle,
ally clear the track of all obstacles.
You should not try to
chine, because it might
in time to be of any servi
Do not despise a little ston
you might publicly em brac
whence you came,

to the most westerl
its tradition of hav
Lafitte, and there is
fully explored by seek
hind. Treasure-seeki
of which prevail to
all. What is hidden
traction in it far beyo
cause it is mysterious that it is so
ysterious approaches
which all seek.
Blazes in the bark of a
of the live-oaks, in shell-
erywhere on the islands

perfecting a patent
which will eflectu-

get ahead of your ma-

Henry P. Kidder
ot catch up with you

from ofiicial statist
that the expenses
ropean countries are usual]
times as much as for educa

For Education.

e in the road, for
3 the earth from

and you cannot saddle it onto always Open the door

while she passes throng
it “elfemlnate " nor “frivolous
to carry a card-case. Get a
alligator-skin one. You wrl
your cards smooth and clean.

ANDREW A. 8. Ju
the ladies have gi

sought for—the m
attainable, for
signs are sought for.
tree. around the roots
banks, and in fact ev
the least suspicious.
A careful estimate
buried by Lafitte on
from the authentic ac
exactly where it lies
it at a sum equal to the
doubloons and piastres
American money thro

running away
.by running into
nor try to snub it against a tele-

In France  . . . . . . . . . . .. 2,
InRussin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 2800000

, Hanlan and Ross, it is now ar-
t Ogdensburg, N. Y.
y 18, for a stake of $2,000 a

Mr. Duryea, the
d Lee, has cabled
England, and a romi-
York gentleman has taken t
gagement ofl.’ his hands.
of the world ” will be decided in
te

ranged, will r
Wednesday, Jul
purse of the a
original backer of Hanlan an
that he is too ill to leave

ghtens at a bicycle and runs
ght of the wheel will imme—
t with all speed and catch it
e is done to the

of the amount of treasure
the Gulf coast, com uted
counts of those who
yet never find it. places
entire coinage of Spanish

cha i n hi
, with a million or two of mp o s p

American wa- acquaintance in a r

people who know them. than ri
THE great cattle 1. young ladies and their friends.
the military protecti

about 900 miles

range of Wyoming under
How He Secured a. Bride.

MISS SUSIE WASHINGTON, a
gaged herself to Mr.

inted. The bri

grea
th t eanmg' thel
uare. Five hund Wi 0" m

head of cattle, wbrth $27 per head,
in all are now grazrng on this It
added the value of the ho
ranches of the cattle-men and the far
the stock of the Grangers,

proud, and hold your

dashing bru-
eep your nose upiu the

meaning “ While I
bio/mus, rivamu: " is
“ While we live, let us live."
for a person to use foreign words and
especially if not posit:
I .will unldmers arttlélgcmAs h
sefin good p 'nEng' .—
ntlemen’s calls, it remains for
all the  You may call again,
invited you to do so, in about a month. Your
should not exceed half or
in length, while you are
I. Y. Z. It is certainly
chum to be so fond o
to dislike you.
about the matter, and im
where nothing of the kind isi
if you are conscious

The weddingda y
do] outfit had been
erything was in readiness for

you will soon see the warn-
d crossing. Look out for the
engine gets a wheel taken

had been appo
purchased, and ev
celebrating the n p
Just before the auspicious da
ever, the young In
mind, and told you
to marry a man from
E. Wiugfield. The Lou
be thus “ downed.” H
that his promised b
mitten, and that she

making at least
property under the protection of

large share of this
us a day now

to that Terri-

y arrived, how-
ly changed her
urret that she intended
Chicago, named Joseph
rsville man was not to
e was enraged to think
ride had given him the
was to stand up with an-

g how to bre
conceived the idea of
Washington’s weddin
with nothing to w
fore the altar with
pointed time.

an of whom we
not get much fun
nd to go, and he

rying to borr0w. a wheel un-
go into the wheelbarrowing

The new bicycle son
music of Handel,
When you go
how much groun
that you are made to
you will have a w

DAKOTA is getting a
spriug’s emigration.
leave Chicago,
tory, and it is
will contain be

bound through
estimated that its southern half
fore the end of the

lation of over 350,000. A peculiarit
cupation is that the comers are c i
other parts of the United
per cent. of the present inh

_ ghas been written to the
wrth bugle and bell chorus.

ak the female heart, be
out for a day you should see

spiriting away
clothes, thinking

car, she would not stan
the Chicago man at the ap-
ance favored him, and to

cover say six feet of soil
ell-grounded idea that some-

The beginner who wa
shed a good deal of gor
When you stop be careful where

AGENT LIch respect and confide

CUDDY, of the Pine Rid very oonsh to withdraw

Dakota, under date of A
writes to the Commission of Indian
Cloud wishes to infer
3 heart is good and his mind
iscovered a gold-mine
ds to go mining with
er is fine. He does
urbed in possession of said

even tenor of your wa
able to win their confi
vince them shat you

ate to be a goer must follows: “Bed

' away and made himself Fat-her that h‘

' was complete
art-broken at
nothing to wear on her
iss Washington to post-
w it was brought about
the Louisville man a few
he young lady’s clothes, and
ore the altar with her, and
9 man and wife.

ALizardinHim!

Now we have proof

frogs and lizards can an
in the human stomach, for
paper gives us this narrative:
“For a period of time

baggage-master on a mail t
and California Railroad, h
complaining of a severe
being perfectly health y i
could not accou
Notwithstaudi

scarce for a time.
and successful in its desi
her loss, the thoughts of
Wedding-day induced M
pone her marriage.

is not known, but

days ago returned t
as groom stood be
the two were mad

ppose your bicycle should get uuru

on his reservation and int
When the order “left wheel”

his people when the weath
not wish to be dist
mine for ten years.’
FROM various reliable sources an
estimate has been mad
acreage in Minnesota
year, as compared with 1882. In
State a loss in acreag
being given up to dai
ly cfi'sets th’s.
' 882 was 2.572,000, whil
that;1 it will be fully2,
or t e acreage was
be increased to 1
eStimated that this will swell
000 bushels, as
bushels in 1882.

know of no way to
than by writing to
that fact. She pc
until you do so. It is

confess one’s wrongs on
Better make the m

is given, be sure

rfectl justifiablein
’t get in it—that is, don’t

in?
ost of yomlln for em"—

0 of the probable wheat ty until you am through w,

uniform of blue and white.
log—wagon; it may be all

he young ladies make the
ything else. I

ycle of no time

 

e is noted, owing to land

when they are
, but new land

Minnesota in 1
it is estimated
Dakota last ye

positive that snakes,
do occasionally live
Portland (Oregon)

Mr. James Kelly,
rain of the Oregon
as been frequent]

pain in his side, an
n every other respec
at for his uncomfo
ng the caution
terious agony and the debil
from, he managed to attend
ing that he would be rewarded
Such was not the case,
re excruciating,
trip of his train on Wedne
sole cause of his ailments
denly ill, which required hi
car for a few moments, an
hearty dinner which he ha
he beheld a marvelous curi
lizard or 'water—dog,’as it
about three inches in
ly been grizzled into

850 000, which
£00,000, and it is
the total crop to

compared with

tire if you would have the

nearly frightened to death,
a man flying down-street

uzz-sa w.

In running against the wind be

do not run your nose against it and hurt your-

similar form are called stalact
worhd 38 if dTigeided
But 0 .

orttz in themsecon

into four syllab
nunciation is sta-lac-tites
syllable, long i in the

Territory predict

region will, before
ost popular summer
hey claim for this region
h could be desired for a
lofty altitudes the air is
.h and game

manv years, contain the m
resorts in the world.
all the advantages whic
summer resort.
clear, cool and invi
abound; the sooner
and the tired deni
real rest, recuperation
night there than the seaside
I nstcac Of listeni
nous blnre of born
from the various
able seaside resort. one

gamey trout, track the ru
zly, or black bear to his la
panther, mount
and an endless va

ance of his mys-

gto brag of. Why ity arising there-

wo of them if they ware fasten

You should go b

the re lar club rules; in
fact. you should tr y g“

to go by everything on the

It has been decided that
the road, but not t
young wheele
nvbodv to catch you unless—
are falling.

0. do not get ofi.’ of your ma~
out Wheel, and never let it
road a minute.

was a beautiful pri
was greatly enamored o
dos. They met each ot
would escape th
across the Hell

Asia, now called
By the light of :1.

until on the down
sday hediscovered the
He was taken sud-
s absence from the
d upon elevating a
(1 previously eaten,
o~ity in the way of a
is sometimes termed,
h, which had evident-
his stomach while drinking
nly way its presence there

5 of cities can fin
pleasure in a fort-
could furnish in gill
ng to the monoto-
ng to extract honey
flowers of a fashion-
could angle for the
zged cinnamon, griz-
ir, and lie in wait for
elk, antelope, sage
riety of game.

of the road, as we t eDalgmengabed'een
burning torch w
of a high tower.

attempt to sw
ersclf from the

 

“ lave. "
‘ preference.” Send
t these.

 

 

 

Correspondents’ Column.

[This column is open to all correspondents. in-
quiries answered as fully and as promptly as Circum-
stances will permit. Contributions not entered as
“declined” may be considered accepted. No MSS.
returned unless stamps are inclosed.]

Declined: Poems b

; “Southern School-
house;" "Step Too Bar

;" "Dose of Lead:" " How
the Parson;" “A Ma S rite;" “Tenth
cs” "Stripping for t is
A Laid-out Road
A Night Bounce;“ “ A
” “ By Right of Possession.”
the manuscript for us. It would
or country paper.
We send you the answer of the firm
e letter at your post-emce.
, Newark. Consult the New York Journal
(daily) for advertisements of vessels to
ad New South Wales.
You may have related a “ per-
poor story.
tcrest in the story sense.
ANNIE. In writing poetry nerer use a note sheet
1 you to write in a cramped
space or punctuation. Send only a clearly—written

' lrt;” “ Hero

gent;" “ A
Well-

All

(1 and no

3 Paper.
ment on

have not the slightest
"Company" indicated, and
pay no head to its advertise-

Your best adviser is some good
ractical flowrr - grower.
If the variety is new, he will

Consult

overcome it by gradu-
will thus wear away.

ht to be avery simple mat-
to your fflend-thatvwas. Write
erstanding and

ing in your sleep is only
v arouse you every
elf nervous excitar
y course of diet and exercise that will prO~
, or true, sleep will overcome the trouble.
no “short way " to learn tele phy.
roper instruction and
very easily mastered

sass;
e

years we resu m

ree years

roper pronuncia-
long a and 0 like 00 in
You see what

You have

3 words

your wife should call upon your
course. They are the newer
comers in the place and cannOt make calls until
t is the place of the residents
of a city, town, or village. to take the initiative in
making the acquaintance of new-comers among
them.—As long ‘as your sister
perfectly right in consnderlng
resents and attentions
gentlemen friends.

on refer is in earnest about h

es to engross all her time, he sh

is not engaged she is
herself at liberty to
equal y from her un-
ntleman to

attentions,
ould declare

plain gold ring is not a suitable one
-ring. That is the wedding—
iamond ring, or one set with
meat-ring is worn
e left hand. After
worn as a guard to the wed-
ood taste to wear very
e fancy with ladies, at
ly upon the left hand, and
rs, if they
us. A gem
urth finger

ve apresent in silver—and
-—why not
wears gold
at the same
ry bad taste. Some of the
re exquisite in dcs The
range from $1 to Sid—You should
for a lady, and hold it open

we do not conSJder
young man
lain Russia leatheror
then be able to keep

dgingfrom your side of the story
veu you ample excuse for addr ess-
the ways of young
and while they may think i
submit to your glances and return
long as you keep

girls are inex-
t “great fun "
your smiles so
our distance, they might be do-
ignant were you to presume to
d much better make their
y since you know
§ki offending til:
ce young r
foolish and imprudent thing“
t harm.

m, ammo" is a Iatin phrase
reathe, I hope:" and "Dam

meaning

good taste
phrases in let-
ve that these
to expm yours
dies never return
the gentlemen to
' if the hog
cal
three-quarters of an hour
so new an acquaintance.
rather awkward for your
f you and yet for his parents
ou are over-sensitive
e his and coldness
ed. Atall events,
have no just cause
are in every way
uce, you would be
friend’s com-
advise you to pursue the
; and in time you maybe
ence and regard, andto con-
are worthy to be the:- son’s

you were in the wrong, we
rectify matters other
y a_ note acknowledging
you

to to

2.

days. Give
egg}: study—3.
obnoxious by not
rlnciples u n
on can a ow
with wine, and yet leave it un-
. settle the matter with
necessity for explanations.
J. B. C. Stalactites are “
ders of carbonate of lim
form and attacimd, like i
of a cavern.” They

out any

pendent cones or cylin-

resembling icicles in
es. to the roof or side.
are produced b
h the rock above of

recla-

wateryboldlng bi-car-
Also any minerals of

used the
t without

a woman, not a man. Silo

who

f Leander, a youth of Aby-
t, when Leander
and swim ‘

peand

irectinghiscoume
ch Hezgggfesflos,

w en '
. he was drowned in his I
and Hero, in her do- .
top of her high tower 1’
—Blue violets mean '
geranium leaves mean ‘
ady a small basket filled wl

 

 

  
 
 

 

 

 

 
 

  
  
    
 
 
 
   
  
 
  

 
 

A. -.¢(,~4 .

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fireside Ballads.

——-—<O>——~

THE gases.

BY '1‘. C. HARBAUGH.

 

We rode from the battle, but shattered and torn,
Scarce fift where hundreds had galloped at mom,
I carried t e. bugler, but minus his born-—
I found him shot through at the ford,
Where t‘linle grass, cut and trampled, looked haggard
an am

And the trodper lay dead on his sword.
We dreamt not of ambush when “Draw!” was the

cry;
Our sabers flashed back the bright glare from on

high
The bsili‘gle‘ blew “Charge!” and beneath the blue

y
We rode for the river that runs
To the sea with a song for the men who could die
In the breath of the enemy’s guns.

Death rained in our faces; it struck us on flank;
And hundreds fell dead on the velvety bank,
01' cnmsoned the stream with their blood as they

sank
With a hero’s last shout ’neath the wave;
And I—would to God I had fortune to thank
For a couch with my comrades so brave!

My souvenir? Look at this scar on my brow!

The fellow who gave it is slumber-in now

Where the lilies their heads to the c ear waters bow.
I lost my good steed in the stream,

But got me another—I cannot tell how,
For one-half of that fight seems a dream.

A dream! ah! my friend, would to Heaven 'twere
such!

But that it is not, a proof is this crutch,

And this scar on my brow—but I don’t mind it much;
A soldier's best badge is a scar:

But, pardon my story; old memories touch
The heart like a voice from afar.

The Telegraph fletective;

THE DYNAMITE LEAGUE.
BY GEORGE—HENRY MORSE.

CHAPTER VII.
A TERRIBLE DISCLOSURE.

WILLIS MARVIN, overwhelmed more by the
singular complications of the case in hand than
by being unexpectedly confronted with Tor—
rance and his accomplices, was at a disadvan—
tage in his perilous position. The pale, resolute
face bespoke his determination to sell his life
dearly, but the conflict was of brief duration,
although, as he saw his enemies make move-
ments to secure his wea n, he leveled his pistol
at the breast of the lea er and fired.

The shot resounded loudly and echoing
through the room sped wide of its mark, as Tor-
rance sprung quickly aside, and the smoke en-
abled two of the outlaws to gain the detective‘s
side. Tne weapon was torn from his hand, his
arms pinioned, and in their powerful grasp he
was held against the wall, at the mercy of the
fierce-eyed throng about him.

One of their number had leaped forward, a
gleaming knife in his hand.

“ Marvin i” he cried, furiously.
his detective career, once for all.”

But Torrance placed an interposing hand be-
tween him and the object of his vengeance.

“ Hold 1” he cried, im ratively.

“ Dead men tell no ta es,” growled the despe-
rado, “ and this fellow has interfered with our
plans too often.”

“ This one may be the last,” replied Torrance,
significantly. “At all events, we’ll hold him
until the captain sees him.”

He made a gesture to Marvin’s captors as he

 

 

“ We’ll end

kc.

“ To the attic room?” inquired one of them.

“Yes, and be sure you secure the door fast
and strong. There must be no escape this time.”

Struggling violently, Marvin was hurried
from the apartment amid the fierce threats of
the men around him. They forced him up a
narrow stairway and into a room whither they
thrust him, retiring and locking and securing
the door after them.

“ Duped! defeated!” murmured Marvin, once
alone. “ These men have the shrewdness of in-
ventors and the boldness of assassins.”

He glanced about the place they had thrust
him into. A deep chagrin overcame him as he
thought of the skillful ruse of the carriage. He
became serious when he realized that unless he
escaped these men would dispose of him quickly
and effectually.

Was it a ruse? Was the vailed woman ade-
coy‘l Until this moment of sober reflection he
had not paused to consider what deep plotting
those men might have conceived. Was the we—
man he had mistaken for Constance Thorndyke
not Constance, but an ally of the Laague dis-

ised to decoy him, her similarity of form, and
aligned excitement and fainting-s ell being em-
ployed to deceive him and withho d an investi-

ation of the truth until he was in the power of
orrancei

If it was Constance, be thrilled at the thought
that perhaps she had been playing a part! No,
no! Any suspicion than that the fair, pure girl
he had learned to love, could become a party to
intrigue and crime was absurd—monstrous.

Yet how closely had the renconter with the
woman been timed! How singular that, at the
very moment of his arrival at the building
where Constance was, she should meet him as
though he had been expected!

Revolving theory after theory in his mind,
wondering what his fat her’s fate might be,
what that of. Hiram Arnold, what the mystery
of the fifth member of the conspiratOrs—if the
stranger was such—at the banker’s home, the
Telegraph Detective found restraint gallin and
terrible. When he considered the stran s ly-
ing loosely about in the chain of events encir-
cling the devoted lives of those he loved, and he
helpless to assist them or to defeat the plans of
his enemies, he seed the room excitedly.

The thought red him to activity; he exam-
ined the door and the walls critically. The
former resisted every effort at forcing it. The
window, a small aperture directly under the
roof, was securely barred, and by t e dim light
cast through it into the apartment, he discerned
plainly from the disordered bed, the dirt-stained
walls and foul floor, that it had been occupied,
and that, too, in all probability. by a prisoner.

Perhaps it had been the place of incarceration
of his father? Perhaps that father, recaptured,
was at that moment in some other part of the
house?

He placed the broken chair on the bed and
climbed to the window. He ascertained that
he was in the rear of the top story of the build-
ing. and he recognized the locality from sur-
rounding landmarks He noticed, too, that the
bars of the window were strongly imbedded in
the brick-work, and that the distance to the
ground was great; so bad to abandon all hope
of escaping from the window or of attracting
outside aid from the alleyway.

Hope! A thrill shot through his frame like
an electric shock as he glanced upward and his
eyes caught sight of a wire running from the
roof of the building in which he wasimprisoned
and thence to the top of the one across the alley-
way. Three feet above the window it crossed
his vision between the bars and the sky above,
and every nerve tin led with cXcilcmcnt as he
feCognized its smal ness of strand and knew
that it was part ofa local line.

If it should be the police wire! As the
thought struck his mind and he realized What
would be the result, should be be enabled to
communicate Wllh the police. his hands trem-
bled, and tile sickly pallor of suspense crowed
his anxious face. To secure outside interfer-
ence—to capture the band and the casket would
indeed be a great nchiev ment.

He reached out the bars of the window to en-
deavor to grasp the wire. His efforts were un-
successful, howevr'r: hi< fingers could not reach
it. Taking from his pocket the coil of wire he
had carriei from the building where he had
first traced the Leag..e, he bent 1t, and again

outside strand. .
His heart beat high with hope and triumph
as‘he found that the tension of the wire admit-

he examined it with trembling fingers, his eyes
sparkled with delight. It was the police wire!
His experience told him that in this surmise he
was correct.

.An expert electrician, his judgment enabled
him to determine what to do and bow to do it
quickly. Separating the wire with his knife,
be attached a piece from the coil in his pocket
to it and allowed the other end to drop over the
side of the building. He knew from the direc-
tion of the wire that it went toward police
headquarters, and that with time he could
command the police force. Introducing the
little instrument in his pocket, the relay of the
line repairer, he inserted the wire, allowing it
to run through, and grounding the end by con-
necting a piece of the coil with it and ground-
ing it by twisting it around a water-pipe in one
corner of the room.

The circuit was formed! A prisoner in the
hands of desperate men, he had them at his
mercy, for he felt assured that within a few
moments’ time he would be in communication
with police bead-quarters.

As he fixed his location in his mind, he was
enabled to judge what line he was operating.
Every nerve was on the alert as he applied his
flu er to the little instrument and sounded the
cal to the operator at the other end of the line.

He listened in breathless suspense for a mo-
ment or two. The perspiration stood in beads
upon his brow, his breath came quick and
heated.

Tap—tap! He had been successful! The pe-
culiar echo of his movements, 8. tacit reply to
his Signal apprising him of the fact.

“ Important!” his nimble fingers spoke on the
transmitter. “ In peril! I have spliced the
line. "Keep open for what I have to say. I
am—

There was an interruption. Loud voices
reached his ears, engaged in excited conversa-
tion at the door, while a key went fumbling
around the look.

In the semi-darkness of the room the wire
mi ht escape detection, was his first thought,
an springing on the bed, be bent the wires to
the wall and placed the instrument at his side
far from the door, and sat awaiting his visi-
tors. '

The noise without, the momentary expecta-
tion of the arrival of his foes did not deter him
from continuing his work. He knew that the
very first words of his message would enchain

\\.

‘, ..—.~

‘, a \

\\,\\, é—k
. .\ ’- ‘
\_ an

,—

the attention of the man at headquarters—that
his ready intelligence would discern a peculiar
combination of some kind in progress, and that
he would keep the line open until he had time
to tell his story sent clicking over the electric
ath.

p How his fingers flew! In the briefest words
possible he told of the murdered banker and
gave the location of the house in which he was
imprisoned as near as he could guess it—which
was quite accurate, as he recognized a building
just seen on the adjoining street—and that he
was in the power of a desperate band of men
who threatened his life every moment.

Even in his excited state of mind be discerned
the voice of Torrance. H: could distinguish the
familiar intonation, but not the words.

The leader of the League had been actuated
to the visit by the return of Barnes, and was
now uestioning his accomplice.

“ ou secured the girl?" he had asked.

“ Yes, by the aid of Arminie, who was
shrewd enough to secure the detective and lead
him here.”

“ She was waiting for you!”

“ Yes; she had gone up to the girl’s room,
dressed exactly like her, to carry out the plan
agreed upon, and bad drugged her so we easily
removed her to the place settled on.”

“ The Irving Place house!”

H Yes.”

“ And you saw—”

“ We saw the captain, and he tells a startlir _;
story. Ti 9 treasure casket—”

“ What of it?" demanded Torrance, quickly.

“ The: e's been some blundering mistake. The
stranger who burst into the room and resisted
us must have carried it 03.”

“ Confusion! Has our plan miscarried?”

“Yes; and the captain is raving mad about
it. He thought he gave the casket to me. In-
stead, he handed it to the stranger, apparently.
He says he saw the man coming after him—saw
him go into a building near by, and a third man
pursuin in the rear. When came to tell him
that I d dn’t get the casket, he understood it all,
fr he recognized the stranger as—”

The man leaned forward and whispered a
name in Torrance’s ear. The latter started
visibly.

“ It can’t be!”

“It is, for certain! You should have ended
Marvin‘s career in the garden.” _

“ I wish I had,” replied Torrance, With an
oath. " Curse the luck, we’re ruined if the
casketis gone, but I’ll scttle the szair, as the
captain has told you, about our prisoner. He
wishes to spare him to hold an influence over the

girl. I‘d rather en‘i him. once for all, and feel
secure from his infernal interference in our
plans.”

With these words gorrance unlocked and
opened the door of the - risoner’s apartment.

" Where is bet” a familiar voice broke upon
Marvin’s hearing, and Torrance entered the

room.
Behind him pressed half a dozen of his men.
The principal in the robbery of the banker ad-

 

reaching from the window, flung it over the

ted of his drawing it as far as the window. As

 

His heart beat high with hope and triumph as he found that he c

 

vanced within a few feet of Marvin and strained
his vision to catch a full view of his face.

“ Again!” he said, sneeringly, as he met Mar-
vin’s glance. “ You seem to be unfortunate in
your attempts to follow us.”

Marvin was silent. A slow agony burned in
his mind, as he feared the wires would be dis-
covered, or himself removed before he could
Complete his message to the police.

As it was, he ventured to slowly telegraph the
sentence:

th‘i‘sEvs-n now I face the man who robbed the banker

“ What was that?”

It was one of the men who spoke sharply, sus-
piciously. The faint click of the telegraph in-
strument had caught his ear.

With his free hand Marvin tapped nervously
on the side of the bed. It quieted the outlaw s
suspicions.

“ l have on] a few words to say to you,” said
Torrance, pacing the floor. “ As a y of men
acting under imperative instructions, we do not
hesitate at violence to accomplish our ends.
Had you accepted your situation and awaited
our action, in time your father might have been
restored to you. As it is, you have brought on

our own fate. The powerful League of which
am a member brooks no interference from God
or man.”

“ Villain!” cried Marvin; “ dare you ac-
knowledge that it was you who kidnapped my
father?”

The other laughed scornfully, but with a
shade of anger.

“You will gain nothing by hard words,” he
said. “ I offer you your liberty after a time, on
one condition. You must leave the city, and
seek Constance Thorndyke no further.”

“ I refuse.” came firmly from the young man’s
lips, “ to treat with either you or any member
0 your vile band.”

“ Fool!” hi-sed Torrance. “For myself I
would not bandy words with on It is only at
the direction of another that do So.”

“ And that person Adrian Revere!” cried
Marvin.

The other started.

“ No matter,” he returned; “I have done my
miSSion. You refuse my ofler; then die! I
leave our fate in the hands of these men.”

Clic ! click! The little instrument at his side
sent the quick words on their way as Marvin
endeavored to procrastinate the termination of
the interview.

“ These men,” he replied, scornfully. “ Who

 

 

“You may escape for a time,” declared the
undaunted Telegraph Detective, “but the law
will soon overtake you. At least one of your
accomplices is by this time safely cornered or
under a close surveillance.”

“ The captain,” insensiny murmured Tor-
rance, his eyes glittering with rage.

“No; his time will come when the mystery
of the hand of fire is elucidated. The fifth mem-
ber of your conspirators—the man who left the
banker‘s garden after you, and disappeared in
a house near by. I traced him, and his where-
abouts I have communicated to the police.”

A wild, derisive shout like a cry of triumph
and satisfaction broke from the outlaw’s lips,
startling the young man with its intensity.

“ Fool!” he cried, as he drew a revolver and
leveled it at Marvin’s breast. “Your warning
to the police has precipitated your own death,
and your information concerning the man you
refer to, has doomed him you would have saved.
For the fifth man of the party in the banker’s
garden—the man you have betrayed to the
police as one of the assa.~ sins of Hiram Arnold,
is your father !”

CHAPTER VIII.
THROUGH FIRE.

AT the terrible announcement that in his
eagerness to secure the capture of the banker’s
murderer he had placed the brand of guilt on
his own father’s name, Willis Marvin, the Tele-
graph Detective, fell back, overcome with dis-

ma .

"y Great heavens!” he cried. “Was I blind
not to have foreseen this?”

The demoniac light in the eyes of Torrance
faded to serious alarm as the warning bell
sounded again through the building.

“ Blind and reckless both, to trust our feeble
will against that of the Dynamite ague,” he
g’ied; “Willis Marvin, your quest ends here.

iel’

He leveled the revolver straight at the detec-
tive’s breast, and fired as he spoke. Amid the
smoke and dim light in the apartment he was
satisfied that his murderous mission had been
executed, as he saw the form of his victim sink
back to the bed; and he gained the corridor at
a leap.

The wildest confusion prevailed among the

. men as they hurried to the end of the hallway.

A man coming hurriedly up the stairs glanced
eagerly after them.
" Torrance,” he cried—“ where is be?”

“Here,” replied the outlaw leader. “What

are they! The off-scourings of the State peni- , is it?”

Lentiary l”

 

l

A low growl from the villains warned the tel-
egraph detective that be bad incurred their in-
creased resentment.

“ Your perceptions as a detec‘ive are not very
acute,” replied Torrance. “ You are in the
bands of no ordinary criminals—Jacques War—
necke, an exiled Belgian. and once possessed of
the royal diamonds of the duke of his province;
Leary 0<borne. the most skillful safe breakerin
America; Barnes, the Canadian bank note en-
graver, and myself, will soarwa care to be
classed as men from the slums. Ah, I do not
fear to reveal our identity. Our fears of your
in uisitiveness will soon cease.”

be clicking instrument in its monotonous
taps had ceased to attract the attention of the
excited and muttering men. Torrance tuned
to go.

“You can do with him as you please,” be
carelessly announced to his con federates.

Two men started forward. They fell back as
Marvin sprung to his feet.

“ Hold l” he demanded, imperatively.

Torrance turned.

“ You have something to say!" he asked.

“ Yes, I have something to say 1"

“Out with it.”

“ You dcem me in your power," cried Marvin,
with rising excitement and flashing eyes. “ You
are mistaken. Before Lll‘) of your number can
leave this building the police will guard every
outlet!"

Torrance started, but assumed a careless,
scornful smile, as he retorted:

“You think to frighten us.”

But scarce! had the words been uttered when
a bell sound through the place.

“ The signal of danger l” exclaimed Torrance,
turning a startled face on his companion. “ The
police!”

“ Yes, Sidney Torrance; the police !” cried
Marvin, in ringing tones—“the police sent for
by me—summoned even from this prison of
youlsl”

He stood boldly defiant, triumphant in face
and manner, victory endowing him with a reeks
leSSnr's‘S which might cost him dear.

“What do you mean l” demanded Torrance;
“ you summoned them!"

“Av; I summoned them! I mean that first
notifying the police that I was here. your pris-
oner, while \ on have been so boastineg inLro-
ducing yourself and your accompliceshl, with
this little instrument—and he revealed the tele-
graph relay to TorranCe’s startled vision—
“ have been clicking name for name. word for
word. ox er the Wires to the oflice of the super-
intendent. of police I"

Startled, dismayed, appalled, a while alarm
in his face, Torrance fell back with an oath.
His companions bad sprung into the corridor;
but he, even with arrest threatening him did
not vet retreat.

" It is a lie!” he cried.
do it!"

The instrumcnt lifted triumphantly in Mar-
vin’s hand, and his (xcitcd face as be clicked
the transmitter was his reply.

“ You could not

 

“ The police l”

 

ould draw the wire as far as the window.

“The bell informed us of that. Are they in
the house?”

“ No, but at the rear door. They came only
a minute since—six of them in the ambulance
wagon.”

“ Marvin spoke the truth, then,” remarked
Torrance.

“They examined the building closely, and
then knocked at the door, demanding entrance.
They would have passed on, but one of the men
flashed a light and it betra ‘ed us.”

“ Can they force the oors?” inquired Tor-
rance.

“Yes, and will do so, very soon l”

Torrance’s eyes flashed like two meteors as he
seemed to reflect deeply.

He turned to Barnes, who stood near by.

“ Are all the men here?” he asked.

“Yes, every one of them.”

“Let them take the most valuable packages
of the last silk job and drop them down the
shaft.”

“ And the men?”

“ Take the winding stairway to the cellar.
carry the oods through the break in the wall
and skirt- t e sidewalk well until the next street
is reached. Then one by one creep cautiously
out to the street and hide the lunder.”

The men, gathered around im with alarmed
and anxious faces, started to execute his com-
mand as the sound of a heavy hammer beating
on the doors below attracted their attention.

Torrance turned to Barnes again as he saw the
men disappear.

“ The building must go,” he said, decisively.

The other started, as if astonished.

“ As had as that l”

“Yes; we must leave no trace behind—not
even the detective yonder. Quick! To the first
floor and fling a burning lamp among the pack-
ages there.”

He himself started for a doorway through
which several of his men had already disap-
pelaared with packages—the secret exit from the
p ace.

Barnes, with cool precision, descended to carry
out his leader's commands. The door of the
prisoner’s room leading to the corridor had not
been locked. and the hall was plun ed in dark-
ness as the outlaw took the lamp w th him.

“ The fiends!” murmured a voice from the
room. “ They destroy life by any means to rid
themselves of an encmy.”

It was Marvin who spoke—Marvin whose feint
at being mortally woundcd had succeeded in de-
ceiving Torrance. He sprung to the door of the
corridor once it was clear, but stooped to pick
up a glittering object on 'he floor—the revolver
dropped by Torrancp in his excitement.

The Telegraph Detectivc’s heart beat wildly as
a faint smell of smoke and burning wood perme-
ated the air. He was nbcut to endeavor to seek
the exit spoken of by Torrance when he heard a
step coming rapidly up the stairs.

“It. is Barnes!” he murmured. “He shall not
escape me if I have to drag him through the fire
to the police!"

The fire! Already the dense increaSing smoke

 

 

told the detective that the fell purpose of Tor-
rarce had been accomplished, and that in a few
moments all chance of escape in the direction of
the lower portion of the house would be cut off;
yet he nerved himself for a struggle with the
villain, and as he saw his approaching form
dim! outlined in the corridor he stepped for-
war to meet him.

There was a contact. Barnes brushed against
Marvin, but the exclamation which followed
iristantly altered the detective’s preconceived

an.

“ Torrance?” spoke the League confederate.

“ Yes,” replied the detective, in a low tone.

“ I have fired the place. The police have
broken in, and we must hasten to escape before
the fire cuts of! the passageway.”

He brushed past his supposed superior, and
Marvin followed without a word. He hoped
that those of the League who had preceded were
sufficiently far in advance to admit of hiscarry-
ing out a suddenly projected scheme when the
street was reached.

Down the winding staircase his mind in a
whirl of excitement, following close on the heels
of his guide, the detective hastened. Utter dark-
ness in the cellar revented him seeing his com—
panion. He coul only follow him by the sound
of his feet.

At last a break in the masonry composing the
foundation of the building was reached, and
Barnes crawled through. Marvin following
found himself on the damp clay bottom of the
sidewalk pit. As they proceeded, neither spoke,
but the detective started and clasped tightly the
weapon in his hand as he saw ahead of them a
dim ray from the street-lamps through an open-
ing‘ in the end of the sidewalk.

he form of a man emerging through it was
faintly outlined. Barnes aused as. he reached
the place and appeared to isten intently. Then
he peered forth and turned to Marvin.

“Come,” he said. “The fire-engines are in
the street, and in the confusion and crowd we
shall not be noticed. Now is our chance 1”

“ Wait.” ..

The detective could observe his companion
start.

“What do you mean!” demanded the man,
drawing back suspiciously.

“ I mean that we will remain here a minute
or two longer.” ,

A low cry of alarm from the scoundrel’s lips
told Marvin that the man had discovered the
error he had fallen into.

“ Not Torrance!” he cried, as he endeavored
to shake loose the rasp of the detective.

“ No,” replied arvin, coolly, “ but yours,
truly, Willis Marvin, the Telegraph Detective,”
as be pressed the muzzle of the revolver to
Barnes 8 temple.

“ Trap ed 1” wailed the outlaw, in a low cry.

“Yes, arnes; and my prisoner! N0w,listen
to me,” came in steady tones. “ Walk straight
ahead into the street, without a word, a move,
or attempt to escape, or I will send a bullet to
your heart.”

Not the quiver of a muscle traversed the
frame of the detective as he laid a hand on the
shoulder of his risoner and advanced with him
to the street. nce there he caught his wrist in
n vise-like grip, the pistol in deadly menace by
his side.

The wretch ground his teeth in mute anger,
and glared murderously at his captor.

Even then, amid the surgin mass of people
rushing pell-mell to the burnmg building, he
would have attempted an esca e, but the tight
clasp of Marvin’s hand, the g itter .in his eye,
subdued the desperate impulse.

‘ ‘ Dorsett l"

The word was a call, quick and clear, from
Marvin’s lips, directed to a man hurrying by—
a man who had just emerged from the alley be-
hind them.

The person addressed turned.

“ Marvin!” he cried in wild surprise. “You
here? For Heaven’s sake, what does this all
mean—the message, the fire— ’

His eyes alternated in wild glances from the
detective to his prisoner.

“ It means that I have escaped a terrible
death ” answered Marvin. “ It means more
than I can delay to tell you.”

“I must return to the men,” said Dorsett,

uickly. “We had just gained an entrance to
t 9 house when the fire broke out."

“ You can do better service by remaining
here,” assured Marvin.

Dorsett regarded him inquiringly.

“ This mani” he asked, with a penetrating
glance at Barnes.

“Is my prisoner.”

“ Your prisoner?”

“Yes, and a most important one.
a pair of handcufis with you!”

“ Yes,” and Dorsett, the central station de-
tective, (produced a pair from his pocket.

“ Hol out your hands l”

The rogue sullenly ob( yed Marvin’s order.

They had drawn him aside from the hurrying
throng, and as Dorsett locked the steel wristlets
on his hands, Marvin spoke quickly in his ear:

“ This man holds the entire secrets of a terri-
ble crime—of a series of crimes—murder, rob-
bery and fraud.”

“ And you Wish me to take him in charge?”

“ Yes, for his accomplices are somewhere in
the vicinit , and I know them. I wish you to
take him In charge and guard him carefully,
for his friends are desperate men, and he a
criminal of more than ordinary ingenuity.”

“ I will take him to the station at once,” and
Dorsett started.

“ Not now ” restrained the young man; “ he
is not to be locked up. Listen to me, Dorsett,”
spoke Marvin, rapidly. “ The superintendent
has given me peculiar privileges in working this
case. It is essential to my plans that this man
should not become a prisoner in the hands of
the police until I have learned something fur-
ther about his crimes and associates.”

“What shall I do?"

“ Remove him to some safe
or so. See' onder is the Ga axy restaurant,”
continued arvin, glancing around and indi-
cating an all-night eating-house. “ The propri-
etor is a stanch friend of ours. Take him there;
secure a private room and watch him closely
until I return, in about an hour.”

“ All right;” and Dorsett crossed the road
with his prisoner, while the Telegraph Detective
lost himself amid the crowd, seeking for the
men he believed to be in the vicinity.

Buthis search was unsucceSSful. He did not
make himself known to the police, who were on-
deavoring to gain access to the burning build-
ing, but, i fter skirting the crowd, and convinc-
ing himself that Torrance and his companion
had disappeared, he started for the restaurant.

He found no difliculty in locatingr his asso-
ciate, Dorsett, in a private room. he latter
sat. sharply eying the sullen, angry-faced pris-
oner, who did not deign to speak a word.

Marvin closed the door, beckoned to Dorsett,
and drew him to one corner of the room. His
face was alight with new and excited thoughts.
The first words of Dorsett were:

“ What does all this mystery mean?”

“ Success or failure in the tracing dawn of a
series of terrible crimes,” replied the detective,
seriously. “ There is no time to lose. The first
important step is to investigate to—night’s mur-
der—the killing of Hiram Arnold, a banker, by
yonder man and his colleagues. Was my mes-
sage understood at heed-quarters?”

“ Yes,” answered Dorsett. “ Vague as it
was, we knew something unusual had occurred.
An old telegraph operator myself, I readin
comprehended that the sender of the message
was terribly excited from the rapidity with
which it was clicked out. The chief quickly
sent a man to the place of the murder and our-
selves to your aid, although we had a difficult
time in locating the house, and two officers to
the building where one of the murderers was
located by you."

A cry of dismay and grief troke from Mar-
vin’s lips at these words, and his face paled

visi hlv.
bewildered, but

Have you

lace for an hour

Dorsett stared at him,
the other VOIIChSBff—(l no immediate explana-
tion. His mind forcsccing that if the mys-
terious stranger was his falhcr, be readily sur-
mised that his appearance at the banker’s house

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

   

 
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
   
   
     
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  

 

 

  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
   
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
    
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
    
   
   
 
  
    
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
    
    
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
     
  
 
 
 

 

 

 

  
 
    
   

 

 

 

V Wizard.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

was not one of crime, but to anticipate and out~
wit his enemies, and be trusted to circum-
stances to correct the mistake he had made and
turned his attention to the Vital issues of the
present.
“ Dorsett,” he went on, gravely, “ the L ingue
of criminals to which this man ”-indicating the
prisoner—" belongs is a confederation of des-
peradoes who do not hesitate to employ extra-
ordinary measures to outwit its foes. \Ve have
no time for details now. I have a plan to reach
these men, first through the confession of the
risoner, next throu (I) my escape not being
nown to his confederates.”
“ A plan?” repeated Dorsett, interested! y.
“Yes. No matter what it is. I only ask
your implicit confidence and coilperation for a
few hours.”
“Which is granted freely,” responded Dor-
sett, heartily.
“ hen do not intimate that I am alive nor:
my true identity to any one,” requested Mar-
vin.
“You will disguise yourself?”
“ Of course; I must remain unknown to every
one.”
“ And then i”

“ Then I will endeavor to force yonder man
to a confession by the same extraordinary mea-
sures he and his confederates have employed in
their plans.”

“ And that is—«”

“To return in half an hour with a carriage
and the means of puttin my project into exe-
cution. Watch him till% return, for I se + be is
getting uneasy at our whispered conversation.
He is a thorough desperado, and will require
especial watching.”

:‘Ig'Vill, you remove him to the station?"

‘ o. .

“ Where then i”

The eyes of the Telegraph Detective gleamed
with a wild enthusiasm in his secret project as
he whispered impressively, in Dorsett's startled
ears:
“ Info the presence of the murdered bunker!”

(To be continued—comiiienced in No. 25.)

 

DO THEY LOVE US STILL?

BY ERMINIE C. STRAY.

 

 

Do they love us still we wonder,
As we sit and dream to—day?
Do they think of us o’er yonder.
Far across the shining way?
Now our hearts are filled with sadness,
Without any hope or gladness,
And we scarce can see the way.

When they pass beyond the portals
Do they know their loved ones sti 1?
Have they love and thoughts like mortals
And a heart that joy can thrill?
0ft in tears and woe we’re striving
For the penitential shriving
And a hope that Heaven can fill.

Is there peace in that far haven?
Shall we meet the loved ones there?
Will our sins be all forgiven?
Will there be no grief or care?
Will there be a joy ul greeting
And a happy, happy meeting,
In the land of beauty, rare?

The Magic Ship ;
The Freebooterhmof 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.
AUTHOR or “run LEAGUE or THREE," “BUFFAID
man’s GRIP," “nuns, rm: mmnsa,“ are.

CHAPTER XXVII.
run SEA WIZARD sn'rs SAIL.

THE strange man known as the Hermit of the
Highlands had one ruling passion in life, and
that was the accumulation of gold.

His had been a strange existence, and he had
been r roamer far and wide in the world; but
above all the greed for gain was paramount.

He had sinned deeply for it, and when he
placed his greedy grasp upon the precious metal,
no matter how it was obtained, his heart forgot
all sorrows and troubles and became happy for
the time, until the thirst for more came again
upon him.

When, therefore, Carrol Gray told him that
he had captured a rich prize, and that that prize
was apirate vessel, his eyes fairly glowed with
deli ht, and he almost danced before the young
free ooter.

“ Tell me of it, Carrol, my noble boy, tell me
of it!” he exclaimed, joyously.

“ There is little to tell, sir, more than that
many high-sea acts have been committed under
the name of the Sea Wizard by a noted pi-
rate—”

“It helped you the more, my boy, for it add-
ed terror to your name.”

“ A thing I desired to avoid, and hence I pun-
ished the perpetrator of the deeds with which I
was charged.”

‘1‘ Served him right, Carrol, if you took his

0 d.
g “ But who was he?”

“Vesper, the Pirate.”

“ What! do you mean you captured his craft?”

“Yes, one of them, his schooner, under his
lieutenant, Reinforth.

“It was this schooner that Vesper had com-
manded, and I believed him to be on board, so I
signaled that it was war between us.

“ He answered:

“ ‘ Yes, to the death.’

“ Then we began the action, and I made him
strike in fifteen minutes, although he was my
equal in men and guns; but of course my cra t
was the larger.

“Reinforth was killed and I regretted that
Vesper was not on board; but learned that he
had fitted out a large and fleet brig, manned it
with a large crew, and was to come upon my
cruising-ground.

“ The crew of the schooner I paid well, took
a few to add to my com lement, and landed
the others at the Cape car, while the craft,
which was badly worsted by my fire, I sunk—”

“And the gold?” gasped the Pirate Hermit.

“ Oh! I transferred that of course to the Sea

 

 

 

 

“ And where is it now?”

“Beneath the cabin flooring of my vessel.”

“Right, boy, right!

“And it is valuable?"

“Oh yes.”
, “When will you deliver it?”

“ I shall put to sea now, and return in a few
weeks, and in the mean time I wish you to fit

up the old schoonerfor me.” marr Celeste Can-as?”
“What, my old Flying Arrow ?” Rogin Sherwood started and asked:
(I  7) ‘6 Why?”

“ She is laid up in a creek up the Shrews- ‘
bury.”

“ I know it, sir; but put men to work upon
her at once, and wholly refit her.”

“ She is hardly seaworthy.”

“ That makes no difference.”

“ What do ou intend to do with her?”

‘ “I have a little plan on foot, and will use her
in it.

“ It is not likely that I will go to sea in her,
only up to the city.

“ The Sea Wizard needs overhaulin , and
when I return I shall lay her up in the inIet for
repairs, and use the Flying Arrow.”

“Boy, you have some scheme on hand.”

“ So I said.”

“ Is there gold to be made?”

“ I shall let you know the result.”

“ But you had better land the treasure before
you put to sea, for it is risky.”

“ No more for the treasure than for myself
1.1: l crew.

" if you have to mourn my loss, you can
throw in an extra. fear for the gold .

L

\

6

39
“lithium in .



l
i

“I have- no time to lose now, so good-night
grandfather.”
“God speed you, my boy."

through the night by his coming.
beach below.

ters to his vesScl.

alongside.
him at the gangway.

“Yes, captain.’
“And saw Lily?”

to see her before you sailed.”

“ Thank you.

“ Now head for open water and then down to
the cruising-ground of Vesper, the Pirate, for I
have a score to settle with him,” and Carrol
turned his glass upon the light-house, which
still sent its eye of fire out over the waters,
growing light beneath the coming dawn.
“ Strange that I do not see Lil, or get a wave
of farewell from her,” he murmured.
"Never before, in darkness, or storm even,
has she allowed me to sail at any hour of the
night without a wave of her lantern in fare-
well.
“I wonder if she has found out that her love
for me is a mistake, as I have done.
h me! what the future holds for Carrol
Gray, God only knows,” and the young free-
booter descended into his cabin, while the fleet
craft went bounding upon her way.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
A SAIL DOWN THE BAY.
“ AH, brother Robin, are you going to be so
selfish as to run off for a sail and not take me?”
The words were addressed to Captain Sher-
wood by his sister, one pleasant afternoon
several weeks after his arrival home.
He had fully recovered from his injuries, and
been feted by his admirers and friends in the
citfi until he was heartily tired of it all.
is brig was undergoing repairs, and in a
couple of weeks more would be read for sea,
and then he had set for himself adu y to per-
form in hunting down the Magic Ship, and
solving that terrible mystery of the ocean.
For awhile, as nothing more had been heard
of her it was hoped that she had sunk, or dis-
appeared; but only a few days before vessels
had come into port, chased in by the Magic
Ship, their captains said.
In refitting his vessel, Captain Sherwood had
adopted a new idea in naval rig, and which he
had borrowed from the Magic Ship.
That was he had his masts set perpendicular,
with no rake whatever, and not made ,to tower
high in air, and with immense booms and
spars, which would give her a tremendous pres-
sure below, near the decks to the better act up-
on the hull and force her through the waters.
He had added to her armament, had en-
larged his crew, and felt that no fieeter craft,
better armed and manned and stancher vessel
would be afloat than would be the Quickstep.
when she started upon her cruise for the Magic
Ship.
Upon the day in question, when hailed re-
prohchfully by Corinne, Robin Sherwood was
just about to cast loose from the pier, in his lit-
gle yacht, a sloop-rigged craft of three tons’ bur~
en.

 

He was dressed with remarkable care for a
cruise upon the waters in a. small boat, and had
told the boatman, who he said need not ac-
com any him to say to his mother that he
won d not be back until late.

When Corinne appealed to accompan him,
his brow slightly clouded, but instant ya ter he
called out: -
“Come on, sis, for I will take you with me.”
“ You dear, good fellow,” cried Corinne and
she liprung lightly down upon the deck of the
yac

“Cast off, Horn,” called out Sherwood, and
the boatlegs threw the painter on board, and
the yacht went flying away under pressure of a
stiff breeze.
The wind came from over the Jersoys, and
was most favorable for a run 11 and down the
harbor, and that seemed to be he course which
Sherwood had set for himself.
Presently the yacht of Colonel Bertie Gray-
son hove in sight, just rounding to at her an-
chorage, and as the book was let fall the little
sloop sped by.
The colonel was upon her deck, just about to
get into his boat to row ashore, having evident
ly 'ust returned from a sail.
e raised his hat, and seemed about to ask to
form a trio in the little yacht, when Corinne
called out qluickly:

“ We wil not ask you to join us. Colonel
Grayson, as you have just been sailing.”

The dark face flushed, and the man made no
reply, only bowed as the sloop shot on.
“You silenced Grayson with that shot, sis,”
said Sherwood, with a smile.
“ I intended to,” was the low reply.
“You did not care to have him accompany
us, then?”
“ I certainly did not, brother.”
“ Strange, when he is an acknowledged
lover.”
“ It is a match of my mother’s making, bro-
ther, not mine.”
“ Ah! then you do not love the colonel?”
quickly asked Sherwood.
“Frankly, I do not, nor did I ever love him.-
“ I liked him, admired him, feared him, hated
him, if you can understand that paradox, bro-
ther mine.”
“ Yes, I can understand the feeling, Corinne,”
answered her brother, dryly.
“ And which is the predominant passion you
hold for the colonel now?”
“ Indifierence.”
“That is a bad state of affairs for a maiden
who is to marry soon.”
“ It is, I admit.
“ But what can I do? I have urged and
pleaded with my mother, but all in vain, for
she will not allow me to sever the engage-
ment.”
“ I am glad I know of this, for I will see what
I can do.
“ I will at least have the marriage put oil! for
a year, and in that time we will see what
changes take lace.”
“Brother, rom my heart I thank you for
those words,” said Corinne, earnestly.

“ And, brother,” she continued, after a mo-
ment of silence and deep thought, “ will you
pardon me if I say that I hope you will not

“ She is no more suited for you than is 0010-
nel Bertie Grayson to me.”
“ You think so, Corinne?”
“ I do, and I feel that if mother had not made
the match, you would have looked elsewhere
for a woman to make your wife.”
“ Celeste is Very beautiful, Corinne.”
“Yes very.”
“ And accomplished.”
“ True.”
“ And has a lovely manner.”
“Ah, yes; but it is the rosebud hiding the
them.
“ She loves you, I believe, and she is am-
bitious.”
“ She could look higher than to wed me, sis.”
“Yes; she might wm an admiral, or a gener-
al; but they would not have your wealth, and
she expects you to rise high in rank in a very
few years.”
“Well, sis, I frankly confess that Celeste is
not wholl mv belle ideal of womanhood, and
now I wil ma e known to you a secret.”

“ I will be glad to hear it, brother Robin.”

 

“A fine sentiment that to throw after a pi.
rate,” sneered the young freeboon-r. as he left for I can trust you.”
the cabin, greatly to the relief of its brute and
fowl denizens, who had had their rest broken

Dashing the skeletons aside, he drew his cloak the news that I was not dead 1'”
around him and hastily descended the hill to the

off, she was under way by the time he ran

“ Well, J ean, did you carry the settee back?”

“ Yes, sir, and told her you would be unable mother and the colonel,” and Corinne told her

\

cars-1 I had a Visit to make.”
“Then I am sorry I came."

“I hope so, brother.”

pure and innocent.” said Corinne.
“ So I think, sis.”
“Then she had the courage to face both

the Light-house had called at the mansion.

Robin Sherwood laughed, and then said:

“Well, sis. I am 0mg to make a dut call
upon that young gir and her mother, an you
shall accompan me. ”

“ Oh, I won] so love to, brother! But where
does she live?”

“You have heard of the Lily of the Light-
house?”

“Yes, indeed; and she is a heroine, for she
has saved many lives, and won also the title of
the Belle of the Breakers.”

‘f Yes."

“ And was that innocent-looking, modest,
lovely girl, that heroine?”

“ es, sis.”

“Why, I had pictured the Lil of the' Light-
house as a tall, rather mascu 'ne, handsome
woman, able to all an oar with a man, and
wholly different rom the sweet little sunny-
bulged maiden who came to the mansion that
nig t.

“Why, I could love your Lily—I mean the
one you refer to, brother, if I was a man,” said
Corinne, with enthusiasm.
“ So could I,” dryly rejoined Robin Sher—
wood, and having passed through the Narrows,
and getting the wind fresh from the westward,
the young captain laid his course for the Sandy
Hook light-house.
The sloop was a fast sailer, and had all the
wind she wanted, without a reef in her sails, so
that it was in less than an hour after dro pin
the Narrows astern, that Robin Sherwood uflefi
up alongside the small pier near the light-house.

Lily had seen him coming, and that he was
not alone, and came to meet her visitors, for the
handsome uniform of the captain had caught
her eye afar off.
She was dressed in her gaunty sailor-suit, and
fame tripping along wit light step and rosy
ace.

“Well, Miss Lennox, we meet again, and I
have brought my sister to see you,” said Sher-
wood, grasping the little sunburnt hand.
“ I am glad to see you, Captain Sherwood, and
most happy that Miss Sherwood should have
done me t e honor of calling upon me,” re-
sponded Lily, in her soft, musical voice.

“ I am also happy, Miss Lennox, to greet the
one to whom we owe it that my brother lies not
at the bottom of the sea, for he is the idol of
our hearts, and our home would have been deso-
late without him,” and Corinne’s voice quivered
as she spoke, while, in her im ulsive way, she
kissed the rosy lips of the lig t-house maiden
with pure aflection.

Leading the way up to her home, Lily ushered
her visitors into the cotta e, and Mrs. Lennox
came forward and gave t em welcome in her
pleasant way, and an hour was passed most
charmingly.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
CAUGHT IN A SNARI.
Ar last Sherwood rose to start u n their re-
turn, and both Mrs. Lennox and 'ly escorted
himself and Corinne to the beach.
Lily walked by the side of the ca tain, while
Corinne was accompanied by Mrs. IEennox.
“ Do you see that vessel-of—war lying yon-
der, Captain Sherwood?” asked Lily, pointing
to a larg: armed craft that was at anchor up
the H00 .
“Yes, I observed her as I came down, and
was going to ask you what she was.
“ She looks like a SIpanish cruiser.”
“ She may be, but do not like her looks.”
it Why r:
“ She hovered in the offing all day yesterday,
and last night, when the New York and London
clipper went out, I saw flashes in the darkness,
and the deep booming of heavy guns followed,
and then the sound of fighting at close quarters.
“ This morning she came in and anchored
where you saw er, and I saw with my glass
that her fore-topmast seemed to have been shot
awag.”
“ he cannot be a pirate, for there is no buc-
caneering craft afloat of her model and size,
that I know of.
“ Perha it is the Magic Ship,” said Sher-
wood. wit a smile.
“What do you know of the Magic Ship!”
asked Lily, quickly.
“ Nothing more than that she got me into all
my trouble, and that as soon as my brigI is
seedy for sea I start upon a cruise to hunt or
own.
“ Have you ever seen her?"
(6 Yes. )7
“ Do you know aught of her, Lily?”
“ I know that she has the appearance of be.
in} a very weird craft, for I have often seen her
0 share at night, and I beg of you that you
grant my request, and do not pursue her,” said
Lily, earnest y.
‘ I am sorry I cannot grant your request,
but my duty forbids.
“ Now, when I return to the city, I shall
throw my crew on board an old brig there, that
is laid up for repairs and run down and see just
what that fellow is.’
They had now reached the beach, and fare-
wells were spoken, and the brother and sister
set sail for home.
. “Brother, yonder comes a vessel,” cried Co-
rinne.
“ By Heaven! it is the cruiser, and she is un-
der sail, and must come near us,” cried Robin
Sherwood.
But he held on his course for awhile, and then,
from the bows of the armed vessel came a uff
of smoke, and the roar of a gun followed, w ‘le
a shot flew shrieking over the bows of the 3100 .
b‘o‘That means lay to, and I shall promptl;r
o y.
“But do not be alarmed, sis,” said Sherwood,
as he luffed up into the wind.
Soon after the stranger came near, a boat was
lowered and sent to the sloop, and Robin Sher-
wood was ordered to come on board the cruiser,
and bring his sister with him.
He did not like the looks of the oficer, or his
men. but could only obey; but he asked:
“ Is not this strange treatment, sir?”
The officer, evidently a Spaniard, and who
spoke with an accent, answered:
“ It is the desire of my captain, senor, to see
you, for he has put into your harbor in distress,
and would like to ask your advice.”
‘ghis then is a Spanish cruiser!” said Sher-
wo .
“ Mexican, sefior.”
“Ah l” and Sherwood glanced at the rather
mongrel style of uniform worn by the officer.

. Ving alongmde, the young captain and his
sister were ushered up the gangway, where they
were met by a man evidently the commander.

His attire was foppish in the extreme, and
seemed to be a mosaic of all the naval uniforms
of the civilized world, for while he had the bell-
seamed pantaloons of the Mexican, he wore the
coat of an English admiral, with Spanish desig-
nations of ran .

A Greek turban was upon his head, at his side
hung a Turkish cimeter. and his pistols, three
in number, were of American manufacture, and

, “I was running ofi! alone this afternoon be—
“Oh, no; I am glad that you are with me,

“Do you remember how mother questioned
me about 'the young girl, who brought to her come on boardsipy poor vessel.”
P

“ Yes, brother; and I remember that you
stood your cross-examination well, for I saw
There his boat awaited, and springin in he that there was something behind it all that you had you asked what questions you wished an~
hoisted his sail. and went flying across t e wa- would not tell.
“Celeste hinted as much, too, but mother ac-
The Sea Wizard, in her guise of a Kennebcc cepted your explanation.”
lumber veSsel, rode at a single anchor with sail “ M
spread, and as Carrol Gray hailed a long way fect flat the one who brought the message your society, I wished you here.

to my mother, cared not to be known as a hero-

ine, and hence refused to tell that I was at the extend a glass of wine.”
Dawn was just breaking as Jean Oudry met home of her mother.”

explanation was simple, and to the ef-

“She was a beautiful girl, brother, and so crew looked a thorough case of “like master,

brother just what had happened when Lily of and the eneral appearance of the specimen

His face was also a mosaic, for all the vices
in the calendar of crime, it seemed, were indel-
ibly stamped thereon.

With a smile intended to be genial, but which
missed its aim and was devilish, he said in Span-
ish:

“ The sei'ior and sefiori ta Americanos are wel-

Replying in anish, which he spoke fluently,
Sherwood res nded:
“ I would ave been better pleased, senor,

swered b bail, and not felt it necessary to al-

most or er myself and sister upon board your
vessel ”

“Ah! senor, it was to enjoy the pleasure of
“Come into my cabin with me, that I may
Sherwood did not like the man, and more, the

like man.”
But he was powerless to resist, and knowing

that Mexico was remarkably lax and backward
in the way of a navy, be excused the manners

afloat of t at nationalit , whom he had the mis-

claimed, secretly glad of a chance to quarrel
with the Californian with a part of the town at
his back. “We must give chase before these
fellows bunt their holes!"

“Raise the war-whoop, and let the camp
know we mean business!” Long John yelled.

And then out on the air peeled the loud cries
of the avengers, as they ran u the street in
pursuit of the lice who, after heir bloody re—
pulse. had ma e a bee-line for the Grand Pa-
cific Hotel.

The calaboose, as the rude structure .which
served as a jail was properly called, was directly
in the rear of the hotel, and in it the police
force of the town had their quarters.

Benefast, after leaving the Californian, had
repaired to his own room, which was asmall
apartment on the same floor, frontin also on
the street, so that both he and De We cher had
a tolerably good view of the street fl ht.

His idea in parting with the alca do was to
give that gentleman an idea that he intended to
take a hand in the fun. but that was not his
game at all, for Red Richard had inspired him
with such a feeling, that though he would have
rejected with scorn the idea that he was afraid
of the sha , yet he was not anxious to encoun-

fortune to meet as he did.

the city, for I desire to get home before sunset,”
said Sherwood. ,

“ I am anxious to ask the senor a few ques-
tions: but first let me offer a glass of wine—the
pure juice from old Spain.”

A villainous-looking servant entered with
glasses and decanters, and pouring out a really
excellent quality of Spanish wine, the host said
with his sinister smile:
“Now, sefior, and sefiorita. I drink to your
pleasant cruise with Vesper, the Pirate !”
With a cry of alarm poor Corinne sunk for-
ward unconscious, and slipped to the floor,
while, with the spring of a panther, Robin
Sherwood was upon the outlaw.
But a number of men rushed from the after
part of the cabin, and rescued their commander
from instant death, for in the fury of the mo-
ment the young American would have killed
him, having already torn the cimeter of the pi-
rate loose from the belt.
Realizing that resistance was vain, Sherwood
submitted, and was placed in irons, while, as
the vessel headed seaward, through the stern
“orts he saw his little sloop a mass of flames,

yin away before the wind.

( o be continued—commenced in No. 20.)

 

 

BROKEN TIES.
BY J08“ O. “LOTT.

The rain is falling on their grass- wn graves,
The old-time restlessness distur no more

The silent hearts that found such nest and peace.
When Death‘s dark stream was safely ferried o‘er.

The lips that quivered oft with mortal pain

Are mutely closed; nor s h escapes therefrom;
The eyes that wept such hit er, bitter tears
Have naught to weep forin their new-found home.

The tired feet are resting from life‘s ills;

Their journey here was hedged by brier and thorn;
Shall we not roam together free from care

When rise the dead upon the resurrection morn?

The ties that Death so cruelly has severed

Will Heaven unite upon the Idea strand?

Ah. who could bear the ain 0 separation
If not assured at last e broken band

Shall link by link be gathered by the reaper,
Whose seemin cruelt is but love d 2

Yea, rather th‘li Him or thus guardingl safely
The treasureswbich our hearts so big y prized!

 

 

So he went to the cabin, escorting Corinne
himself, for she shrunk away from the Mexi- witnessed the utter rout of the lice.
n

ter him if t e meeting could be avoided.
From their posts of observation both of them

“What good star protects t is rumml” Do

“.You will kindly not detain us, senor, on Welcher cried in despair, as his police came reo-
board, unless it is your intention to run up to ing up the street, running for their lives.

“ It’s a mighty good thin I wasn’t there i” the
chief of police soliloquize . “Just as like as
not I should have been the first man glog’ged.”

The police took refu e in the cala , and
Benefast hastened to t e alcalde’s apartment.

“ Another little plan gone wrong!" he an-
nounced.

“Yes, I saw it all from the window!” the al-
calde cried, white with rage. “Why, Benefast,
your men ran like sheep!”

“ Cuss it, alcalde! you can’t expect them to
stand their ground and be shot down like a pack
of darned ogsl”

“ I tho ht they were fighters! You always
said that t ey could hold their own against five
times their number!”

“ And so they could, and did, too! War they
ever whipped afore? Not much. Jest count
over on yer fingers the number of the gangs
that they have cleaned out—the gangs that
waltzed in to run the town. But this man is a
hull durned army. Why, he downed four of
our men afore another shot was fired.”

At this point the conversation was interrupted
by the yells of the enraged victors advancing up
the street.

“ Hallo, hallo! what‘s that?” Do Welcher ex.
claimed, hastening to the window, followed by
the chief of police.

“ ’Pears mighty like a riot,” Benefast sug-
gested. as he looked upon the angry men.

By this time about all the men in the camp
were awake and on the street attracted by the
name.

Long John was a po ular man among the
miners, and as his par was well-known and
universally liked, the story of his killing excited
a mob spirit immediately.

And hen, too, the alcalde and his police had
been carrying it with a high band for the last
two or three months and the citiuns were just
ripe for revolt.

he police had taken refuge in the calabooee,
barricaded the doors and windows, and res
pared for a des rate resistance when t
discovered that t eir conquerors hungered for
more gore.~
The about in which they had taken refuge
was a reguir little fortress, and when the
avengers came to surround it they speedily came
to the conclusion that it would be impossible to
dislgdge the fugitives without a deal of blood-
she .
By this time there were forty or fifty men on
the ground, eighteen or twenty of them anxious
for a fight, an the rest more inclined to do the

 

 

Red Richard;

The Brand of the Crimson Cross.
A Romance of Californian lining Life.

 

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,
Au'rnoa or “OVERLAND m," “TALBOT or GMA-
" “GOLD DAN,” “wt-mum or NEW'YORX,"
“nA'r or m nA'r'rimv," “nun Aa-

now, run WOLF-DIXON,” um.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE DEFEAT.

Tun police were all game men, and despite
the threatening revolvers of the stranger sharp
they pulled out their weapons and the miners
were equally as prompt, but before any of them
could raise the ammer of a pistol, the revol-
vers of Red Richard barked loudly on the still
night air.
Four shots, fired so quickly that the later re-
ports seemed but the echoes of the first, and four
men were down, disabled from taking any fur-
ther interest in the affair.
Jackson, the leader, was the first to fall, and
the three of his followers the quickest to draw
their weapons had reason to repent of their
rashness.
By the time that the last of the four had
fallen, revolvers were cocked and discharged
on both sides. \
The miners were enraged at the attack and
were quite as ready to show fight as the police.

Six or eight shots were exchanged, Red Rich-
ard had the skin of his shoulder broken by a
well-aimed ball, The-Man~from-Red-Dog got an
ugl scratch on his right cheek from another
which caused him to swear in the most awful
and blood-curdling manner, one of the miners
received a ball in his side, and a second un-
lucky fellow was stretched on his back, mor-
tally wounded.
The police did not escape damage, though, for
two of the eight Were killed outright and two
more tumbled over, badly hurt.
There were now only four out of the twelve
left, and they took to their heels, dismayed at
the reception which had greeted them.
At first the victors did not attempt to follow
up their advantage, but when they discovered
that their companion was dying, and he in his
agony cried out for vengeance upon his slayers,
th'ti‘lll; blood rqsczlto fiever—heat. h

e pard o e ying man was t e old -
bearded‘ miner, of whom we have before spgkgh,
Lon John Scott.
“ oor Bill is a gonerl" he cried, rising to his
feet, with the big tears streaming from; his
eyes. “ Poor Bill, the pard that has stuck by
me through thick an’ thin for nigh onto ten
years; as gentle—as good hearted—as squar’ a
man as ever broke the bread of life! I reckon
the boys of the Spread Eagle mine will raise
3 when they heern of this hyer bloody
And then, bursting forth in a sudden fit of
passion, he cried:
“I’m for vengeance, I am! The infernal vil-
lain that fixed Bill is thar a-running like a

coyote with a pack of dogs arter him. I

See’d him when he pulled the tri get and let
Bill have it. He fired two shots, the cowardly
skui k! I see’d him give Bill a second shot ar-
ter 1e had tumbled him over with the furst one,
and that ’ere second ball war w’ot cooked Bill’s
goose.

“ Say you red-haired cuss!” and be ad-
dresse- Red Richard, “ won’t you jine in with
me for to help git squar’ with the man that
laid out my pard—the pard of old Long John
Scott?”
“Partner, I’m with you to the death, al-
though, maybe, we’ll have to fight the alcalde
and the whole town!” Red Richard cried.
“ 0h, cuss the alcalde!” cried the old man in
a rage. . “ He’s been putting on a heap sight too
many airs in this hyer town. I’m a forty-
niner, I am, and I reckon that no alcalde m
Californy is a—going to run over me. Say you’ll
take the lead. and I’ll raise a crowd that will
clean out this durned alcalde and his miscr’ble
police afore you kin say Jack Robinson!”

 

 

of the dueling pattern in use at that day.

“I’m your man, partner!” Red Richard ex-

looking-on.
De Welcher determined to take “ he bull by
the horns,” for, as he said to Benefast:
“ I think this thing has gone about far euoughl
If I don’t put a stop to it mighty soon it will be
a question who is the Alcalde of Shasta Bar,
Leonard De Welcher or this infernal Red
Richard!”
“ That’s a fact,” replied Benefast, solemnly.
“ I fancy the men of the camp will listen to
reason when I come to talk to them. ”
“ It won’t do a mite of harm to try it on, any—
way,” but from the way in which Benefast
spo 6, De Welcher became guessed of the be-
lief that the chief of police d his doubts in re-
rd to the matter, and this annoyed the Cali-
ornian. He had gone on so long unchecked in
his successful career that the idea of an un-
known, red-handed rnffian, as he considered the
sharp, attempting to dispute his authority in
the town which he was satisfied owed every—
thing to him was galling in the extreme.
The ex-sherifl', an older man than the Cali-
fornian, in the course of his experience had seen
more than one popular favorite summarily de-
throned b the fickle populace and so, as the
tide see to be setting so strongly in favor of
the stranger, he had serious doubts whether the
alcalde would be able to effect anything by ap-
pealing directly to the crowd.
t went the Californian, carrying a stool in
his hand, followed by Benefast, and when he
came to the open space in front of the calaboose
where the crowd was congregated, he put down
the stool, stepped up on it, and exclaimed:
“ What is the meaning of this? Men of Sheet:
Bar, what are you about, disturbing the peace
and quiet of the town at the dead hour of
night. ’
The eighteen or twenty men who reall meant
mischief were all clustered in a up ebating
“ wa and means” whereby t e police coul
be dislodged from their fortress, for although
at first the enraged miners had been bent upon
making a rush and car:- ing the edplace by
storm, yet Red Richard ha succeed in talk-
ing them out of this idea, for, as he said, there
was _not one chance out of a hundred for suc-
cess.
The lookers-on were scattered all around,
ready to seek secure posts of observation at the
first sign of actual war.
And so interested were they all that the first
they had of the alcalde's resence was when
voice broke the stillness o the air.

CHAPTER XVIII.
BESIIGED.

“HULIDI hyer’s the alcalde!” cried Lon
John. “ Come to interfere for his butchers,
s’pose. Will you hify to him, stranger?”
—and he addressed Richard—“or shall I
argie the ’int?"
“ You ad better lay down the law to him,
as you are an old citizen of the camp,” the
other replied.
“ I kin do it, pard; alcalde or no nlcalde, I kin
put it right home to him as straight as a. string
and don t you forget it.”
De Welcher had his eyes on the group of
ii htin -men when he put the question, so that
w en t e old miner turned around be directly
faced the alcalde.
“ You want to know what the matter is, hey,
alcalde 7” Lou John exclaimed.
“Yes; and mustconfess I am rather aston-
ish”ed to see such a man as you are mixed up in
it.
“Sich things will happen onc’t on a while 1”
“ You have created a regular riot.”
“ No, alcalde; not me nor my pards; you are
a heap sight out of your reckoning thar’,
but your blOOdy police butchers who are a-hid-
ing in the calaboose yonder, afeard to come out
of their hole lest we riddle ’em with bullets or
string ’em up to the nearest tree.”
“And what have these men done that you
clamor so loudly for their blood?” demanded
the Californian, sternly, for he was enraged at
the determined language of the miner.
“ W’ot hev they done?” fairly yelled the old
man. “W’ot have they done? down yon-
der and look at the body of m pard. poor
Bill, cut off right into the flower of is youth by
your butchers; but they’ve got to answer for it!

 

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calaboose yonder; I’ll raise a motion that the
camp of Shasta Bar will be apt to remember
while grass grows and water runs!”

“ Well, I’m sorry to hear of your partner’s
death, but I don’t see how you can justly blame
my olice for the calamity.”

“ ot blame ’em !” cried the old man, excited-
ly; “ didn’t one of ’em fire the shot that killed
him, the cussed scoundrel? and won’t I have his
heart’s blood fur it or lose 11) own?”

“There isn’t any need 0 all this violence
about the matter: the police were only doing
their duty, and in part your friend was to
blame, for if he had obeyed their injunctions
and retired when warned, he would have es-
caped all danger.”

“ Oh, he would, eh i” growled the miner.

“Yes, sir, most decidedly he would,” replied
the alcalde, firmly. “I know exactly what I
am talking about, for I saw the whole affair
from beginning to end from the window of my
apartment in the hotel.”

“ Wa-al, I reckon I know something ’bout it,
too, considerin’ I were present.”

“ You were kicking up a row and disturbing
the town—you were told to go home, and this
man here,” and he pointed directly at Red
Richard, “ defied the police and brought on the
conflict that ensued. If the death of your
partner lies at any one’s door, he surely is the
man.”

“ Ah, now on are trying the wolf and lamb
game,” Red ichard remarked, disdainfully.
“ You may be able to play the wolf well
enough, but hang me if I feel inclined to figure
as the lamb!"

“Now hol’ on. alcalde; stop jist what you
air!” exclaimed Long John, in a dogged way.
“You air jest tryin’ to crawl out of the hull
business, but it can’t be did. Yer police was to
blame, and you can‘t argufy ’em out of the
matter either.”

“You ought to have gone home when they
advised you so to do!” exclaimed the alcalde,
imperious] .

“The blazes we had!” cried the old miner,
contemptuously. “How long since yer police
set out to run the hull town? Durn my cats!
air we men of Shasta Bar a set of school-boys
and know-nothings, that we hev got to be told
by yer durned old police when it is time for us
to go home? Alcalde, yer‘r’ jist crazy fur to
talk in that sort of way! This stranger hyer
ain’t to blame, onless yer’r’ going for to set out
for to blame a. man fur sticking to his pards.
He gave yer police fa’r warning. He talked to
’em fair and easy, 'ist like a Dutch uncle. He
told ’em that ef t ey didn’t skoot they would
git themselves inter trouble. If you know all
’bout the fuss as you say you do, you know that
he jist warned them that if they pulled their
we’pons on him he would be obligated to go fur
’em. He had the drop on ’em, and if they
hadn’t been a ’tarnal pack of fools they would
hev hauled 03 instead of pulling their guns on
him. But, alcalde, they was like you is now;
they was going ahead, right or wrong! And do
you s’pose, alcalde, that the men of this hyer
camp air a lot of dogs for to run with their tails
atween their legs when yer police whistle? No,
sir-ee, that ain’t the kind of stuff that we air
made of, nohow you kin fix it. Yer galoots
made all the trouble. They tackled us instead
of going along and ’tending to their own busi-
ness: the killed my pard, and I’m arter satis-
faction, am!”

The Californian was nettled by the defiant
bearing of the miner, nor was he used to such
langua either. Thanks to the measures that he
had ta en to surround himself with a strong
body-guard, his authority had never been dis-
puted, but now he realized that a crisis had ar-
rived and exactly how to meet it was a puzzle.

His careful] -chosen body-guard had been so
roughly hand ed that out of twelve men only
four remained and they were prisoners now in
the calaboose with an angry mob besieging
them, anxious for their blood.

De Welcher, being naturally headstrong and
obstinate, was enraged that his desires were
disregarded, for he had an idea that when he
came to talk to the angr men they would be
pacified, and so be retorte angrily:

“You want to take the law in your own
hand—that is what you mean! You and your
gang have already laid out eight of my men,
and now you want to finish the remainder. You
ought to be satisfied with what you have done.
Suppose you have lost one of your pards,
haven’t you disabled eight of my men—isn't
that satisfaction enough?”

“No, it ain’t!” cried the old miner. “The
man w’ot fired that shot is inside of that air
calaboose. I see’d him with my own two look-
ing eyes when he plugged poor Bill, and the
darned cowardly galoot, he fired at my pard
arter he was down, and that’s w’ot riles me.”

“Look here! there has got to be a stop put
to this!” exclaimed the alcalde, decidedly.

“ How are you a-going to do it?” responded
Lonngohn defiantly.

“ hy, Iwill call upon the citizens to support
me in my efiorts to preserve law and order!”
cried the alcalde, haughtily.

“I reckon that ’ere is a game that two kin
play at! You kin call on yer friends and I will
call upon mine, and we’ll fight yer tooth and
nail for all we’re worth while thar’s a man able
to keep his feet.”

The Californian was a little taken aback at
this prompt acceptance of his challenge, for he
had uttered the words more in a spirit of idle
boasting than with any idea of carrying them
out.

“ Upon the whole though,” he remarked, think-
in that he sawaway to get out of the difii-
cu ty, “I don’t know but the wisest thing for
me to do would be to let you go ahead in your
folly, for the probabilities are that my men yon-
der will give you a lesson that not one of you
brawlers who live to tell of it, will ever be apt
to forget. They are in a pretty strong fortress
and, as I happen to know, well supplied with
weapons and ammunition. There are eight or
ten rifles in the house and four or five hundred
cartridges, so when you fellows attempt to
carry the place by storm, they will be able to
pick you 03 like so man partridges.”

Long John and his riends looked grave at
this announcement, but Red Richard came in-
stantly to the rescue.

“ Oh, alcalde, that isn’t the game that we will
play: we know a trick worth two of that!” he
exclaimed. “We are not fools enough to at-
tack the house directly, and give your fellows a
chance to shoot us down, without our being able
to get a crack at them. On the contrary, that is
exactly the lay-out that we are after. We cal-
culate to persuade your police to get out of
that building, and then we will massacre them
without mercy. They will run out of that
house like rabbits, and we will have the biggest
sport in the world. If you would like to take a
hand in the fun, alcalde, I’ll lend you a shooter.”

The Californian frowned at this cold-blooded
proposition, and his anger was great, for he un—
derstood that the sharp was di ating upon the
killing of his besieged men for the express pur-
pose of annoying him. _

And so, despite the rage he felt, he kept me

tem r.
“er no doubt that you have a very per-
suasive way with you. but I doubt very much
if you will succeed in getting my men out of
that house while your gang stands ready to
shoot the first man that appears.”

“ Oh, they will come at my say-so.”

“ I doubt it.”

“ I shall make the place too hot to hold them.”

“ How will you accomplish that 3”

“Play the old game. set the house on fire by
means of burning arrows. The building is old
and dr ' and will burn like tinder; there’s no
water t ere nor any other means of putting out
the fire when it gets fairly started, and with
the roof in a blaze over their heads. it is either
romain and be roasted to death like trapped ver-
min. or also come out and fight like men.”

lionefast saw a chance to help his men.

“ Why don’t you give ’em a fair show, man
to man?” he cried. “Pick out four of your
party and have a good squnr’ fight.”

“ It’s a go! we’ll take that offer!” the sharp
replied. ' '

A yell of assent from his companions followed.

 

 

CHAPTER XIX.
PREPARING FOR THE CONTEST.

THE proposal jumped exactly with the pe-
culiar notions of the miners. and one and all
pronounced it to be the “squarest kind of a
deal.”

“ It were the only thin that could he did,”
the chief of police remar ed, hurriedly, in the
alcalde’s ear. “ Our fellers wouldn’t have a
ghost of a show if this cuss carried out his idea
of setting fire to the house; now they stand
some chance for their lives, and mebbe they
may be lucky enough to git the best of the
fight.” - ’

The Californian nodded; he agreed with the
speaker. In fact, it was the only possible way,
as far as he saw, by which the police could get
out of the bobble.

The alcalde’s first idea had been that by ap-
pealingto the citizens a force might be raised
sufficient to quell this revolution against his au-
thority, but, after carefully surveying the
ground, he had come to the conclusion that it
would not be an easy matter.

It was plainly to be seen that popular indigna-
tion had been excited, and his police were in
bad odor just then.

“ A fair fight, man to man!” Long John ex-
claimed; “ that’s squar’—as squar’ as squar’ kin
be! That suits me—suits all on us I reckon, but
it’s understood that I am to be one of the four,
and the man I’m hungry arter is the cowardly
coyote w’ot socked it to poor Bill, when he laid
a-weltering in his blood, and with no more fight
into him than a. kitten.”

“ Decidedly, your claim must be allowed,”
Red Richard remarked, “ and I think it is only
fair that I should be counted in also.”

“ You bet!” cried The-Man-from-Red-Dog,
“and I’m a mule~headed son of a big-horned
sheep if I ain’t counted in! Jest look how the
p’isoned skunks sp’iled my good looks for me.
Look at my face! Wouldn’t any gent say that
I had been clawed by a catamount? In course!
And ain’t I going to be allowed a chance to get
squar’i W’ot’ll my gal say when she lets her
own two good—looking e es rest on this hyer
woeful countenance? by, I wouldn’t have
had this hyer elegant face of mine sp’iled for my
weight in gold-dust!”

“ Mud Turtle fight mean white man i” declared
the Indian. “ See, make big holes in blanket,”
and, the red-skin held up his tattered blanket ex-
hibiting two bullet-holes in it. “New blanket
—only ten years old,” and the savage shook his
head gravely, while the rest smiled at the idea
of the wretched article being injured by any-
thing short of total destruction.

“\Vell, that makes the four,” Red Richard
observed.

Then there was an immediate protest on the
part of those who were “left out in the cold,”
as thev expressed it, by this arrangement, but
Mnngohn settled the matter by saying:

“ 9 four hev all put in a putty good claim
for to be counted in; me, ’cos my pard was
killed, Red Richard hyer, ’cos he has kinder
taken the lead in this hyer hull business, this big
cuss,” and he pointed to Dandy Jim, “ ’cos they
hev tuck the bark offen his figure-head, and the
Injun has got a good claim for dama es. If ary
one of ye kin make a better showmg let him
pile in !’

This stumped the rest, and so it was agreed
that the four should be the ones to give battle.

It was rather a novel thing this duel of eight,
and although Shasta Bar had witnessed uite a
numberof “affairs of honor” since its settle.
ment, this went ahead of anything that the camp
had ever seen. ,

“ When will this thing take place!” [the al-
calde asked.

“ Right away, I should suggest,” the sharp
replied. " There s no time like the present. The
moon aflords ample light, and I reckon all of us
are pretty well warmed up so We will be able to
make a good showing.”

The Californian consulted the chief of police.

“Might as well have the matter settled now
as any other time,” he advised. “When our
boys find out how things are, I reckon they will
make a good fight. It will be like men fighting
with halters around their necks, you know.”

“They are four of our best men, ain’t they 7”

“ Yes, and the wouldn’t have run neither if
the odds hadn’t 11 against them. They are
no fools, you know- the know enou h to ive
leg—bail when they find t ey are in a tight p ace,
but this time, when they find that it is a good,
squar’ show for ’em—that it is only man to man,
you can bet all your pile that they will give a
good account of themselves.”

“Give them instructions to kill this Red
Richard at the very first of it,” the alcalde
whispered. “He is the dangerous one—more
dangerous, to my thinking, than all the rest put
together.”

“That’s so, every time l”

“ I’ll ive a thousand dollars to the man that
finishes him i”

“The boys will do their level best, you kin
depend upon that.”

“What are the terms of the ffightf’andIthe
alcalde turned to Red Richard.

“ Oh, it is immaterial to us, I guess, eh,
boys?” replied the sharp, turning to his com-
panions.

“ I don’t keer a durn fur the terms of the fight
so long as we have a fair show for our money,”
Long John declared.

“ And that’s the kind of antelope I am too; a
fair show, and may the best man win!” Dandy
Jim exclaimed.

“Me ’nother antelope too, you bet!” the In
dian remarked.

“ What weapons will you use?” the alcalde

asked. '
“Oh, we’ll be generous and give your party
the choice of weapons. We don’t care a conti-
nental,” Red Richard replied. ” We’re ready to
fight with anything from ten-pounders down to
popguns.”

“ S’pose we say a pair of revolvers and a
knife to each man!” suggested the chief of po-

9,. .

lice. ~v

“ That is satisfactory,” replied the sharp, and
the rest nodded.

“ But your revolvers are self—cockers, and
that gives you an advantage,” the alcalde re-
marked, quick to take advantage of every

int.

“ ’ve got another pair here that are not,” and
Red Richard, pushing aside the skirt of his
buckskin coat, revealed the fact that he had two
pairs of revolvers belted to his waist. .

“ Durn me if you ain’t a regular walking ar-
senal !” Benefast growled.

“I’m well-heeled, you can bet all your dust
on that, and the man that picks me up for a
tenderfoot will get badly sold.”

“ Well, it is understood then,” said the Cali-
fornian. “Two revolvers and a knife apiece.
The distance?-—-”

“ A hundred feet, say,” observed the chief of
olice, “and each man to stand ten feet from
is neighbor, and directly opposite his antago-

nist. The signal for the fight to be a pistol—shot,
and after the shot is fired each man to be
at liberty to go ahead exactly as he thinks
best.”

“And two or three men have the privilege of
attacking one if it so pleases them,” put in the
alcalde. 3W

“Wa-al, I dunno ’bout that,” objected Long
John. “ Is that the squar’ thing?”

“Why not?” asked the sharp. “ That is a
knife that cuts both ways. It is just as fair for
one as it is for the other.”

“ That’s so," said the miner.

“Cert! you kin bet yer rocks on that!” The-
Man~from~Red-Dog declared. “ I don’t mind
it. I reckon from the way the galoots dusted
into this hyer shanty that I wouldn’t have
much trouble in bu’sting the hull crowd, single-
handed.” .

“ The thing is to be fought out to the bitter
end. as I understand it,” remarked Red Richard.
“ The fight to go on until one side is cleaned out
or gives up whipped.”

“That is the programme!” exclaimed the al-
calde.

“ And no malice to be borne, no matter which
side wins the fight?” 5

“ Malice on account of a. good, squar’ fight!”
howled Dandy Jim. “ Why, who on earth ever

 

heeged tell on sich a thing in a Christian coun-
try.

“ That is understood, of course,” replied the
alcalde, “and now where shall be the battle-
ground?"

“ The flat right above the camp by the river
wciuld be a good place,” suggested the chief of

me.

“That suits us; get your men out and put
them in position; we don’t want to be all night
over this picnic,” quoth the sharp.

“ Warn them to use their utmost endeavors
to kill this rufiian at the first fire,” the alcalde
whispered in the ear of the official as be de-
parted.

Benefast replied by a knowing nod, and then
proceeded to the calaboose to make known to
his men the trial that awaited them.

Red Richard and his fellow champions made
ready for the contest.

The intelligence of this unusual duel had
spread rapidly through the town, and when the
contending arties arrived upon the ground
which ha en selected for the fight, they
found that about all the inhabitants of the Bar
had collected there to witness the encounter.

As it happened the four policemen who had
been thus strangely forced into this due], were
considered by Benefast to be the best four men
of the twelve.

True they had retreated in hot haste from the
scene of the former fight, but that was owing to
a sudden panic liable to be experienced by the
best of men, and now they were eager to wipe
out the disgrace, and were fully as anxious for
the encounter as their antagonists.

“Give a good account of yourselves, boys.”
was the parting injunction of the ex-sheriff,
after be ad placed them in position. “ Re-
member, ou’re in a tight box hyer. This is a
fight to t 6 death. Either die or crawl, you
know, and the man that shows the white fea-
ther will have to dust out of this region pretty
lively, now, I tell er, for this valley won’t be
big enough to hold im.”

Grimly each man protested that he would ra-
ther die than give in.

Then they took their places, revolvers in
hand. _

(To be continued—commenced in No. 23.)

 

 

NIL DESPERANDUM.

BY CHARLES H. DOUTRICK.

 

Nil Desperandum! A life without trouble

But full of all brightness, without shades of care
Is naught but a dream an echoless bubble,

Which bursting, will show you that nothing is

there.

Should your lot in life be oft tinged with sorrow,
Bear u with that fortitude once shown b Him;
By moan and fretting fy;)ou more trouble orrow, f

And life t en indeed is you very dim.

Nil Des randum! There are chances and changes
He] ng the hopeful a hundred to one.

And t ough the chaos high wisdom arranges,
Every success it you’ll only hope on.

Never despair! for the wisest are boldest,
Knowing that Providence mixes each share,

And of all maxims, the best, as the oldest,
Is the true watchword—“ Never despair!”

#

Western Desperadoes.

BY FRANK TRIPLETT. J

Charlie Pitts.

CHARLIE PIT'I‘S, or as he was sometimes and
no doubt more correctly known, Charlie Wells,
did not attain to such an eminence of criminal
notoriety as did some others of the desperate
and lawless James gang, but he was the pos-
sessor of as much nerve and determination as
any of them. The roduct of a similar civiliza-
tion, he united in his person the same vices and
virtues as were possessed by his more celebrated
comrades. Like Byron’s Corsair, his name and
memory will, for a short time at least, descend
to posterity

“ Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes.”

Like all the members of that daring band he
sessed in an eminent degree courage and
delity to comrades, an iron will, and a consti—
tution and nerves of steel. Unap alled by num-
bers, or the greatest dangers, coo in the midst
of excitement, he was ever repared for the
sudden conflict, as well as for he unequal broil.
Ambidextrous, as all of these men were forced to
become, he was a dead-shot with either hand,
and like all his class was almost lightning-like
in the handling of his pistols. It was this ter-
rible rapidity In the handling of their revolvers

 

 

 

 

 

 

that rendered them so dangerous, for let an en-
em make but the slightest hostile movement
an their istols were drawn, cocked and pre-
sented. o surprise such men there was but
one way and that was to walk in on them with
a cocked and presented weapon. This was the
only wa to “get the drop” on them, not that
this wou d have caused a surrender, but it would
have placed the parties on a more equal footing.
It was a boast of Jesse James and believed im-
plicitly byeall, especially his comrades, that “if
any num r of men should surround him with
drawn weapons he could draw and kill three of
them before they could “ down him.”

Charlie Pitts was probably born in Western
Missouri, on the old “ Platte purchase,” his an-
cestors being thoroughly respectable. The war,
with its demoralizing tendencies, made of him,
as it did of so many others, a moral wreck, be-
lieving in

“ The good old rule. the simple plan,
That he can get who has t e power,
And he can keep who can.”

Lacking the provocation of the Jameses and
Youngers, the inability to return to an honor-
able mode of life, even if they would, Wells
seems to have drifted into train and bank rob-
hing as an easier mode of making a living than
by hard work on a farm. It was only of late
years that he seems to have united with the
J ameses, but prior to that union his adventures
had not been tame, nor few. Drifting out into
“ the plains” at Me close of the war, when 'ust
out of his teens, he took service with im
Chalmers, one of the hardest “ wagon-bosses”
on the Platte. Naturally of a mild and taciturn
demeanor, Wells was warned that he’d have
trouble before they reached Denver. Brave,
but not a bully, Wells laughed at the idea of
Chalmers picking a quarrel with him, and sure
enough the trip was made, freight delivered,
and the outfit had reached O’Fallen’s Bluffs on
its return to Nebraska City before the antici-
pated trouble came. One morning the usual
order was heard, “ Roll out bullies and chain
up the gaps,” and the corraled wagons were
soon ready to receive the teams of oxen. Chal-
mers’s time to try the new band had come.

“ Durn you!” he shouted to lVells, “ why
don’t you hurry up? You’re always behind-
hand of late.”

“ You’re a. liar and you know it,” said Wells,
coolly, but with a fierce glitter of his steel-blue
e es; “ I’m always among the first.”

Loitering about as if he had overlooked
Wells’s reply, Chalmers ot close to him,
snatched an ox-bow from is hand and felled
him to the ground.

Stunned but not disabled, Wells, who was a
man of immense strength, rose and struck his
opponent a terrific blow with his fist, before the
latter could again use the ox-bow. Sta gering
up from the dust, Chalmers started or his
wagon, asking one of his men for his revolver
before reaching it. Being refused, he hurried
on to his wagon, when the man of whom he had
requested the revolver shouted to Wells: “ Run
for your life; he’ll shoot you, sure!”

Realizing his danger. ells drew the common
butcher-knife, that all plainsmen use to eat
with, and started after the wagon-boss. Reach-
ing the wagon just as the latter had mounted
the tongue and was reaching in for his pistol,
Wells, with a terrific sweep, cut him across the
abdomen. and the bully fe l to the ground, dy-
ing. ‘ \Vells coolly walked off. and when sent for
by the dying man to make friends. he returned
the message that he “never made a quarrel,

 

 

and never made one up." Had be gone, there
would have been two dead men in the camp that
morning, as Chalmers had got his assistant to
get his pistol, cook it, and conceal it under his
blanket. so that, under the guise of a. recon-
ciliation, he might kill Wells.

Chalmers being very unpopular, Wells was
never molested in the least about this affair,
and remained on the plains until the cOIgtpletion
of the Kansas Pacific Railway in 1 9. At
Fort Phil Sheridan, on this road, where there
are now but two houses, and some fifty graves
of men, all of whom “died with their boots
on,” Wells killed his second man. A gambler,
b the name of “ Curley ” McCune, fancying that

ells was a “pilgrim,” as the old plainsmen
call a greenhorn, enticed him into a game of
cards, and had won quite a large sum, when
Wells caught him cheating. “ We mustn’t have
any more of that,” he said, pleasantly. “I
won’t stand it.”

“Oh, it was just an accident,” said Curley.
“ Nothing more.”

“That’s all right,” replied Wells, “but it
mustn’t happen again.”

It was but a short time before McCune was
again caught swindling, when Wells quietly
leaned over the table, showed the cheat, and
swept all of his own and McCune’s money first
into his hat and then put it into his pockets, and
was just turning to leave the room when Cur-
ley, encouraged by two of his partners, who
had ‘ust entered, drew a pistol and fired, graz-
ing \ ells’s skull and infiictin a severe wound.
Turning like a tiger at bayd ells drew his re-
volver and fired, striking cCune in the wrist
and shattering his arm.

“Mercy, mercy,” shrieked McCune, “have
mercy!” and he fell upon his knees.

“Certainly,” said Wells, and stead ing him-
self against a table he fired again, is bullet
striking McCune in the center of the forehead
and instantly killing him.

At this juncture the other two gamblers
opened fire, and for a. few moments a lively
fusilade was kept up. When the smoke had
cleared away the gatherin crowd found Cur-
ley McCune dead, “Devi ” Smith and Doc
Barclay seriously wounded, and ‘Wells with a
bullet-hole through his left arm in addition to
the wound received from “ Curley’s" istol.

Leaving “ the plains,” Wells drifte back into
Missouri and for a while made the lead-mining
towns of Joplin and Granby his head-quarters.
Here his brawls were too numerous to mention,
that with “ Indian J im.” a Cherokee desperado,
being the most serious. When Wells first
reached Joplin his fame as a “ gun-fighter ” had
not preceded him, and while but few men would
have cared to riskarough-and-tumble fight with
a man whose build denoted immense strength,
yet numbers of the local desperadoes felt in-
clined to make a little cheap glory by bullying
a man whose quiet demeanor seemed to indicate
a want of coura e. “Indian Jim,” a huge,
brawny half-bree , determined to be the first to
try his metal, and accordingly one night at a
faro-bank appropriated a number of Wells’s
checks.

“Those are my chips, my friend!” mildly
expostulated Wells; “ I just put ’em down.”

“ Yis,” said Jim, with a sardonic leer, “ and I
 took ’em up. What you going to do about
1

“Nothing,” said Wells, rising slowl from his
seat, “only this,” and he slapped the elf-breed
over the mouth so fiercely as to drive him six
or eight feet from the table.

“I’ll have your blood,” yelled the Indian,
drawing a pistol, but he was not quick enough,
for Wells, anticipating his move. had drawn his
own revolver, and with the advice: “ You’d bet-
ter be uick about it then l” he fired, and the
huge ha f-breed fell to the floor with a scalp
wound that required some weeks of good nurs-
ing to save his life. A thick skull and a good
constitution were all that saved him from a
well-merited fate. This event cooled the ardor
of the others, and the rest of Wells’s broils Were
chiefly rou h-and-tumble combats or fist-fights
with Wels and English miners, who prided
themselves on being adepts in “ the noble art of
self-defense."

On one of his gambling tours, when be united
business with pleasure by examining the banks
in the various towns he visited with aview to fu-
ture operations, Jesse James heard of Wells,
and forming his acqpaintance recruited him for
a member of his and. A severe wound re-
ceived near Empire City, in Southeastern Kan-
sas, in an “ affair of honor,” brought about by
the charms of a lovely Kansas grass-widow,

revented Pitts‘s participation in anyl of the rob-
ries of the James gang prior to t e Corydon
(Iowa) bank raid. Here Pitts displayed his
usual qualities, a courage as cool as it was des-
perate and an indisposition to shed blood unne-
cessarily, and the bandits rode ofi.’ with $40,000,
the entire capital and deposit of the bank, not a
man having been injured. The ursuit was
never close enough to even excite he robbers,
and reaching Missouri, the se arated and wem
safe. Pitts returned to. rs. earner, his Kan-
sas inamorata, and until his money was dissi-
pated his life flowed along as smoothly as a
poet’s numbers.

The quaint old French town of St. Genevieve
was the next scene of Pitts’s prowess. Here the
band secured only $3,500, and rode out of the
town under a. heavy fire from the citizens, but
no one was injured. The stages between Mal-
vern and Hot Springs, Arkansas, were next
stopped by these bandits. the passengers made
to “throw up their hands” and robbed. This
raid yielded but a small booty, but it was only
the first of a series of robberies, and heading to
the northward. the Iron Mountain train was
“ held up ” at Gad’s Hill and pillaged of a large
amount of money. Riding rapidly due west
through the almost unbroken wilderness of
Southern Missouri, they next raided Benton-
ville, Arkansas, and turned north again to J ack-
son county, Missouri, where they disbanded.
The Kansas City Fnir Grounds, the Chicago,
Rock Island and Pacific R. R. and the Otter-
ville, Missouri, train—robberies came next in
order. At the latter, a heavy booty being
taken, Pitts retired to his Southern Kansas rest-
ing-place, and was here betrayed by his Delilah
into the hands of the legal Philistines. This
was a piece of spite-work due to reports
of Pitts‘s inconstancy. Sitting with his three
captors waiting for the wagon which was
to convey him to jail, a door was incautiously
opened and Pitts made a bold dash for liberty,
reaching the open air and scaling the yard-
fence under a heavy fire. Lucky enough to es—
cape without a scratch, he joined the Jameses
and Youngers on what was destined for most
of them to be their last bank raid. Having de-
termined to visit Minnesota, the gang made
their way to Northfield and swooped down upon
the bank at that place. Here they encountered
unexpected opposition, Clell Miller and Bi:l
Chadwell being killed in the streets of the town,
and every member of the band wounded one or
more times. Flying in this crippled condition,
with the whole country up in arms on every
side, they would still have made their escape but
for the terrible condition of Jim Younger. Un-
able to stop the flow of blood from his wounds,
Jesse James made to the others a proposition
worthy of a Comanche. “Let us kill him to
prevent his falling into the hands of the pursu-
ers, as we will all be taken if we try to carry
him along.” To this Cole Younger replied with
just indignation, and ordered the Jameses to
separate from his party. To Pitts the choice
was given to go with either party he might pre-
fer, and his perverted, but naturally generous
heart sided with the weaker, and he continued
his flight toward the West with the three
Youngers, the two Jameses going toward the
South. Crippled, worn and famished, not having
had a full night’s sleep in two weeks, nor a meal
of cooked food in that time, their fevered
wounds without bandages or dressings, their
clothing torn to shreds, and their shoes worn
from their feet, these men of iron will and in—
domitable nerve were, on the fourteenth day af-
ter their raid, surrounded in a thicket by a very
large force of pursuors. Laying Jim Younger
dOWn in as secure a place as possible, Pitts and
the other two Youngers made a desperate mid
determined stand. Firing rapidly from all Elf es

_the pursuch closed in upon the doomed men,
and in one of the volleys, Charlie Pitts, struck
by a heavy rifle—ball, fell to rise no more. For
friendship’s sake he had given up almost a cer-
tainty of escape. A slight shiver, a long, low
moan, and Charlie Pitts had “downed” his
last man and made his last raid. To him the se-
crets of eternity were now an open book; be
was dead.

 

 

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There's a thing that at distance resembles a man,
And you cannot tell whether ’twas born or was

brewed

A kind of whht-is—it, and if you would uiz it
You’ll readily find that the thing is a

A costume he wears

Dunn?”

He's a regular swell, though a positive fiat;
Of manners obtrusive, affected and rude;
He talks like a bah ', a little one, may be
And swears by his honah and culcha, t

He out-Londons London in make-up and style,
And His N iciness think
The lah-da~dah aper shows the most
Is to try and impress on the world

There‘s a te-he-he girl with a lisp and a smirk,
Of the awfully ab, and the die-away mood;

The dear little twitter is loud on the titter,
The Dnnmn she is, of the brood of the Dunn.

Her manner is no more her own than her bangs;
She is with all aflectation imbued;
Exceedingly namby, decidedly pamby,
And the DUDINE it is who most dotes on the Dunn.
He’s too much lah-da-dah and ta-ta; and the maid
Is vastly too-too and te.hee for a prude;
Yet he is a masher. and she is a smasher,
And they‘d do to be mated, the DUDINE and Dunn.

Around the Camp-Fire.

BY CAPT. RINGWOOD.

Old Grizzly Adams and his “ Painter "-

“ CAPT‘N,” said old Grizzly Adams one mom-
painter we heerd squal-
ef ’ee wants some fun, jess git
on yer traps an’ come ’long wi’ me.
anufi‘,” he continued, in reply to half a dozen
requests to be allowed to accom

ing, “ l’m a~goin" fur the
lin’ last night, an’

dition.

It may readily be imagined that I eagerly ac-
cepted the invitation, for we all knew that
when the scout promised “fun,” it was certain

to be had.

During the previous night we had repeatedly
heard the peculiar, child—like cry of a panther
from a piece of heavy timber that skirted the
river some little distance off. About midnight
old Grizzly had got up, and taking his rifle and
a light ax, left the camp, remaining away some-
thing like two hours or more.
turned, he laid down without offering any ex-
planation, and was soon sleeping heavily.

“I hev sot a bait fur the varmint,” said the
old hunter, as we walked rapidly across the
prairie in the direction of the river, “ an’ I
thinks we‘ll fotch him him out afore the sun’s a
Do ’60 recollect ther bufller-bull
afore yisterda 1”
ft on the sand—

hour higher.

Rube killed up yander, da

“ You mean the one we
I asked, alluding to a hu e old bull that had
been shot while crossing t e stream, and which
we found too tough to eat.

“ Sart‘in. Well, thet karkid
flavored by this time, an’
other beast, ’11 go fur it a mile off. Last night I
went up thar an’ sot the bull afloat, an’ ketch’d
under by thet dead white oak,
st to a snag out in ther stream.
We’ll find the varmint nosin’ ’bout thar afore
long, an’ then we’ve got to go fur him.”

In twenty minutes we were at the foot of the
dead live-oak, and here I halted a moment while
Grizzly crept forward through the bushes to
take a look at his trap.

Hardly had the old fellow disa
sight, before my ears were salute
volley of oaths,

him ag’in jess
an’ roped him

and, shading his e
long and intently

mystery.

“ The painter, lad! the painter !” h
exclaimed. “Thar onto the buflle
an’ stuflin’ hisself at the same time!
quick! You cross h
deep—an' by cuttin’ across
kim out ’way b’low the cree

stan’ i”

I did, and plunging at once into the water, I
made my way over, while the scout dashed off
down the bank at a pace that would soon bring
him up with the g
neck of land made by the sudden bend in the
stream, I soon arrived at the do
and at once selected a suita
from whence I had an unobst
river, and from whence I could shoot with ac-
yards above me lay the
my eyes, waitin

curacy. Two hundred
bend, and here I fixed
floating trap to come in sight. This it did in
less than ten minutes, and I then had a clear
view of the animal which we were

tack.

It was a formidable-looking brute, but thin
almost to emaciation—a fact, hOWever, which
made him all the more dangerous; for a beast
of prey is never so fierce as when suffering from
hunger, and never so revengeful as when inter-
rupted while satisfying it.

The ravenous manner in whic
tore out great pieces of the tain
ing them whole, clearly showed

apgetite.

opposite bank.

Almost directl

shore.

At this point the timber came down to the
very brink of the water, and was unusually
heavy, some of the lon
out beyond where the dead buffal l y

For a minute or two the panther continued to
feed, now and then lifting his massive head to

glance around, and then again resuming his dis-

gusting feast.

During this time I was anxious]
watching for a sight of the scout,
each moment to hear the crack

rifle.

At once I observed a change in the manner of

the panther.

He had stopped feeding, and was standing as
laring up into the tim-
grow 3, while his long, flexible
peculiar movement that always
indicates anger or impatience. Suddenly, and
with a long-drawn yell—for such the sound was,
and nothing else—the active brute made a
g on the bank, and instantly
the leafy covert.

and Old Grizzly rushed down
y in a red-hot rage at the loss

near erect as possible,
ber, uttering low
tail began that

spring, alightin
disappearing in

A moment later,
the bank, evident]

of his game.

For an instant he stood, first looking at the
carcass, then at me, and again into the timber
and up in the trees.

The old fellow was co
and, I think, a little uneas_ .

It was so unusual a thing for a panther,under
such circumstances, to act in
didn’t know what to make of ‘
However, he did not long remain inactive.
Setting his rifle against the tree under which

THE DUDE AND DUDINE.

 

ast the whims of the age,
With the nobbiest at on his knob that is crude;—
He inhabits the corner like young Master Homer,

And looks: “ Ladies, dear, don't you see I’m a

s he‘s the best of the brood;

 

 

 

bank, gazing, with
rible scene.

Half a dozen times had the keen blade sought
the enraged animal’s vitals, and then, as though
his tactics, the scout shook himself
free, an suddenly dived.
For an instant the panther looked round, evi-
v bewildered at this abrupt disappearance,
en started for the bank, swimming slow-

pany the expe-
changin

dent]
and th

ge ar’ kinder high-

fierce and bitter.

through the chaparral, I found him
upon the bank, gazing out into the stream with
a look of comical amazement and anger blended.

The carcass of the buffalo was nowhere to be
seen; only the huge, jagged snag to which it
had been moored.

“ Well, durn my old moccasins, ef thet don’t
beat—1 Why, the cussed thing must ’a’ gnawed
ther lariat! Come, lad, we ar’ bound to make
meat outen thet painter of I hev ter foller him
to ther Colorado,” and off he started down the
stream at a rate that put me to a

At the third bend below our s
we caught sight of the floating carcass.
was something in its appearance that seemed to
puzzle the scout, for more than once he halted
yes with his broad palm, gazed
at the receding object.

At the third or fourth inspection be solved the

yar—ther water ain’t hip-
yander neck, ye’ll

sired position
ble hiding-place:
ructed view of the

h the panther
ted flesh, bolt-
the state of his

rizzly had not yet sh0wn up,
float with its burden was now half-
the bend and my hiding-place,

and was gradu-
ally, by the force of the curr

ent, nearing the

y in front of where I lay the
huge carcass grounded upon asmall sand-bar,
or mud-bank, some eight or ten feet from the

and expecting

mpletely nonplused,

that way, that he

 

he stood, he stepped into the water and waded

out to where the carcass lay.

I saw that his object was to secure the thing
where it was by pulling it further up on the
submerged bar, so as to prevent it again floating

fl

0

over where rizzly stood.

The sight I there beheld nearly took my
breath. Crouched upon the limo With his hind
feet gathered under the body, ready for the
spring, in the panther, his long tail lashing his
Sides, an the great, glaring, bloodshot eyes

fastened savagely on the hunter.

I had only time to shout a word of warning,
to throw my ride forward and fire without aim
in hopes of diverting the brute’s attention, when
the leap was made.

But, short as was the time allowed him, the
scout made good use of it, and, although he
knew not from what direction the blow would
fall, he nevertheless took the only chance, and
sulddenly fell forward upon the body of the buf-
fa 0.

He was in time to avoid the full force of the
shock, but not so to miss it altogether. As the
panther shot over him, it made a sweeping blow
with its powerful aw, the nails catching in the
tough buckskin co lar of the huntingshirt, and
hurling the scout head-foremost, clear over the
carcass into the deep water beyond.
A quick flurry, and then the two combatants
grappled for the death-struggle.
At such a moment an ordinary man would
inevitably have lost his presence of mind, but
Grizzly Adams was not an ordina
he did not lose his head.

Even as he went forward, under the influence
of that powerful blow, he drew his long blade
from its sheath, and, as his left hand closed upon
the beast’s throat, the right plied the knife with
deadly cfl’ect. V
I stood helpless, spillbound, upon the further

ted breath, upon the ter-

 

’ \<_,_.

——-——“".A'”‘r. -
He drew his long blade

ly. The brute had scarcely gotten under head-
way, when I saw it as suddenly disappear be-
neath the surface as the scout had done.
The time seemed interminable, and I began to
fear the worst, when the waters again parted,
and the ther rose, no longer struggling, but
quiet an still in death.
A moment after, the head of Grizzly popped
up, blowing and sputtering like a por ise, and
dashing the water from his face an e es, he
struck out for the sand-bar, swimming With one
hand, and towing the dead animal with the
other.
Seeking a shallow place, I crossed over, and
rejoined my companion, who was busy skinning
his prize.
A long gash in the brute’s belly, from which
the intestines were protruding, showed the man-
ner of its death.
Grizzly had dived, and dealt his blow from
beneath, at the same time dragging his enemy
beneath the surface, the more quickly to finish
i'r.
It was a splendid feat, and I told him so, to
which he replied:
“Well, well, lad, we kum out fur fun, you
know, but durn my ole moccasins of I didn’t
git more’n I barg’ined fur.”

——

Days in Dixie.
BY PEINCE PELHAM.
Abroad.

 

 

 

EVERYTHING, they tell us, is comparative.
As a rule, people mean Europe, when they
speak of going abroad. One exception to it is
among t
Jersey. We found still another, in the promis-
ing land in which we dwelt as strangers.
Anywhere out of the very limited range,
mentally or physically, of the denizens of
Shake-rag “and tharabouts,” was considered
by them an alien clime.
There were several of these foreign posts
which were visited on more or less frequent oc-
casions by the males, and less so by the females;
but the Mecca to which the longing vision of
every one pointed was Cinchona Cit .
This was a burg which boasted ofy at least a
hundred inhabitants; and, judging from the
ante-bellum traditions of it, which were con-
stantly being repeated, must have had “a
right smart chance of folks hangin’ out thar,
’fo’ the wa’.”
Whatever the pristine glories of the place,
they.had, in a great measure, departed. A
sleepier, or less attractive spot generally, could
scarcely be imagined than is the city on the
sand; though it claims to have a history.

With theannals of Cinchona City in the past,
however stirring they may be, we have nothing

e Philadelphians. They mean New

ft

to do. The present must suffice us—“ theliving
present,” if such a vegetable existence as is there
enjoyed can, in any other than a poetic sense,
come under that head.

We visited Cinchona City. That is how we
come to speak of going abroad. The natives so
considered it; and when one is in Turkey, it is
the correct thing to gobble.

In our party Were about a baker’s dozen of
the natives—the Jimmersons,
Givinses, and others of that ilk.
day for the “Innocents Abroad ”; for “gals”
were at a discount in the ancie

I was intently watching the old scout’s move-
ments, when something, I knew not what,
caused me to raise my eyes to the limb of the

tter.
tree that pro'ected out into the stream directly

nt borough of

The occasion of the pilgrimage, which we, for
lack of something else to do, were led to take
part in, was an entertainment, popularly known
as a “hoe-down,”g;ven at the residence of “ ole
man Muddington,” a prominent citizen of Cin-
chona, and the happy father of five unmarried
-—-and we had almost said u

interesting operation.
withdraw immediately;
did. in unfeigned disgust.

Then the martial Mississippi forgot the hostess that pick,” interrupted Pete.
in the offended patrician, and thus eased her “Can’t we fix th
outraged soul:

“ Thar’s some folks what th
ter edercate. Yer mought e
a sheep’shead inter a mulle .

nmarriageable—

The Misses Muddington, he
been until lately somewhat be
the social ken ot' the aspiring swains of Shake-
rag and Skunk’s Misery;
leveler, and time, if it had not 3
and budding hopes of the fair five. had at least
left ungathered, on the
ing cluster of fast-fadin

Hence, “ a change ha

it known, had
yond and above
it; an’ hit’s bin a failur’,
but time is a great hit would. Oil an’

pared the youth
parent stem, the droop-

come o’er the spirit of
h

locating the Claim.

BY H. S. KELLER.

 

The last entertainment held at Cinchona City,
though somewhat difl'erent in character from
the present, had been the means, h
of bridging over the social chasm,
which, up to this time, had seemed im assable.

It was a public execution.
apt to be attended with more or less formality.
The one referred to, however, had certainly
the effect of breaking up formality, in one quar-

 

 

ry man, and DRIVEN from Leadville!

That was the general verdict
against Pete B0wers, the luckless
present sketch.

He was counted a bore; was good for one
thing, and one only—imbibing the villainous
decoction called tanglefoot.
sions and subjects he was weak. But let a man
offer to treat the crowd, and he was on hand al-
ways, loomed up grandly to do full justice to

The “ Muddin’ton gals,” in short, had been so
gracious to the guests from a distance, at “ that
thar hangin’,” that the time and the event had
become a new era with the latter ever since; as
\\ 6 found affairs no longer marked in a
ral way, by the universal desi
“sence the wa‘,” but “’fo’,” or “sence the
hangin’ at Cinchone Cit .”

So it happened that the flattered foreigners
y came, be it known, with
more exalted opinion

On all other occa-

gnation, “ ’fo," or

Yet, the citizens of Leadville voted against
him and—he got.
He is standing now upon a ragged spur of the
mountain, some five or six miles south of Lead-
At his feet are pick, spade and p
They comprise his entire worldly possessions.

had returned. The

of their own merits an
had ever before manifested.

 

 

her tactics to suit the unmistakable state of He drew nearer softly, and a cry of rage

burst from his lips as he saw the form of a man

“ reckon,” she said, “ef you two Shake- inside of the circle.
ragged galoots knowed the time 1’
hev wi’ them two in the mornin’
feel like scttin’ up ter them. They
fied,’ an’ Oakney looks like she bed
comin’ on now”—

m likely ter “Hey, ther stranger! Hain’t yer lost yer
er wouldn’t bearin’i” cried Pete, stepping up to the in-
both ‘ fitti- truder.

a conniption The latter glanced up quickly; a look of sur-

. which, by the way, she cer- prise came upon his face as he responded:
tainly did—“an’ Oakmey ain’t much he

Now yer knows the wust. mebbe ye’ll leave me what’s bin putti
ter try an’ manage them.”
1 t is sad to have it to record; but neither of “ l’m ther duke!
the young gentlemen thus appealed to manifest- Say—you jist git
ed any disposition to remain and assist in this claim !” exclaime
They did not, however, “ Wal, now—"
though their charmers “None 0’ yer wals ’bout it! I tell yer ter

“Snakes an’ apple-jack! air yer ther party
h n n his fork inter this puddin’
art
I struck hur iich, yer see.
yer ugly mug out’n that
d Pete, angrily.

varmoose! Skip! l’m jist a-itchin’ ter handle

er deal up somehow?” asked
the other.

ar’s no use a—tryin’ “ N airy a fix! I’m dead sot ag’in’ pard buz, I

s well try ter turn am. I wants what’s mine an’——~”

Hit’s Christian “ But thar's ’nufl’ fur two. ”

charity ter make the ’tempt, an’ I’ve bin an’ did “ Thar’s jist ’nut! fur Pete Bowers, an’ that’s
as I mought ’a’ knowed me. Please wacate my claim—”

water don’t mix up noways, And then the spirited discourse was brought

to an abrupt termination.

Our traveling companions, it is needless to A third party, a weather~beaten specimen,
say, returned home sadder and wiser men.

They had “gone out for wool, and came home each hand, forming a striking figure of ristling

tumbled through the bushes with a. istol in

war.

“Gents, I bin list’nin’ ter yer palaver; thar’s
only one thing ter do ter settle yer biz,” said the
new-comer.

“B it hur out, stranger!” said Pete.

“Wei, it air jist this—yer air both bloomin'
creetur’s, an’ ther only way ter do air ter fight
hurouh”

“ But I struck hur fust—”

“ An’ t’other wants a hand in, too. Got yer
wee nsl”

“ ar’s mine,” said the stranger who had in-
truded upon the claim.

“ I bain’t got no weepons,” uttered Pete.
“Then take one o’ mine. They’re good, an’
yer kin depend on ’em every time,” exclaimed
the self-elected moderator, handing Pete one of
his pistols.

“ ow stand back ter back: pace of! twenty
steps an’ tarn an’ fire. Remember, ther man
what turns afore it’s time, hears from me.”
They stood back to back; at the word given by
the third party, they paced in opposite direc-
tions, ten, fifteen, twenty steps and—they
turned quickly—

A double report rung out; two men fell dead
upon the ground.

“ Thar’s a time in ther tide o’ ’fairs which sez
they’ve both inked out. To ther wictor be—
longs ther spi e. I bein’ ther wictor, takes all
lyin’ under my surVey.”

The pair were laid under the n sod, and
thehmoderator took possession o the effects of
one

 

 

Telephone Echoes.

Tin latest fashion craze is to take a salt cod-
fish, paint it full of flowers, and nail it to the
wall as a parlor ornament.

A LANDLADY was complaining that she
couldn’t make both ends meet. ‘ Well,” said
a bgarder, “why not make one end vegeta-
bles ’

Sun the lecturer: “ The made up these moun-
tains are too steep and rocky for even a donkey
to climb; therefore I did not attempt the as-
cent.”

MRS. SNUBBS says it worries her exceedingly
to see that she is growing old, but she has a lit-
tle comfort still out of it; her enemies are grow-
ing old, too.

“ THAT prisoner has a very smooth counte-
nance," said the judge to the sheriff. "Yes,"
said the sheriff, “ he was ironed just before he
was brought in.”

MRS. SMITH is a practical woman. When she

 

from its sheath and plied it with deadly

The Muddington mansion had been awe
garnished for the occasion, and the Mudd
maidens were resplendent in aesthetic-patterned
prints, alligator-teeth jewelry. Everything
promised a pleasant and successful issue to the

That he has not used them to\‘good advantage is
evident from the fact of his being here, an out-
cast. alone and
ther fust ter break sile in
hills, ungen’rous Leadville; an’ yer goes ag in’
me now—when.- I‘m broke.
grateful city 0’ ther hills;
peace an’ ign’runce.”

He stooped down, shouldered his tools and
disappeared down the mountain—side.

Far’well, yer un-

Pleasant, we have no don I leaves yer ter yer

all concerned; and pleasan
tinned, even to the pleasantest of all endings.
But there are more things
babies, that pa
for; and in this case,
inclined masculines of our par
to make suitable provision for t e very possible
wants of a fifth Miss Muddington.

The Jimsonweed boys, Jake Jimmerson and
Clay Givins were soon most marked and de-
cided in their attentions t. four—alas, the
youngest four !—of the daughters of the house;
and the eldest, a maid not e
best, was thus neglected.
ppi Muddington had a spirit above
ted. It was clear that if
from “down ’long coast”
preciate her much so

bt it was, to nearly
t it might have con-

in life, besides twm-
ople seldom think of preparing
the four matrimonially-
had neglected

 

A worn and battered spwimen of humani
was dancing about a washing- n, near a ma 1
stream, running through a sh
fifty or sixty miles south of th
last saw Pete Bowen, delivering his farewell
address to Leadville. His face was the
of mingled surprise and joy; for, in the
pen, a number of yellow scales glittered
ys, sifting down through the

owy valley some
e point where we

asily vendible at in the a...” re
“I’ve struck hur rich!
degen’rate sons 0’ toil up ’n Leadvil 0 could see
Pete Bowers now, how they’d put out thar paws
ter hug me tcr thar buzzoms.
ther hug jist now! I’ve struck a bonanzar, darn
mv sockst I hain’t!”
bus the' pilgrim and
gave vent to his joy, as he danced about the
pan, knelt down to examine its contents, or
glittering scales with his long, dirty

“I’m ther boss hi

were unable to ap-
rior charms, they were
unworthy of the con escension that had been
shown them, in thus opening to them the hith-
portals of the parental palace. They
had taken an unfair advantage of the patron-
izing smiles of herself, the majestic Mississippi,
on the occasion of the “hangin’,” and which
had been the primary
icy barriers of the col
had hitherto been impenetr
She saw her mistake now,
to the emer ency.
a’y Jane Muddin’ton,” said the
slighted spinster to the last opened of the fam-
ily roses, a gushing young thing of six-and-
twenty; “you, Ma’y Jane Muddiu
gal like you was lightin’ outen this
0’ your age orter be asleep hours
ago. an’ yer got for be up soon in the mornin’.”
This was a damper; especially to Jake Jim-
merson, whose suit with the gentle Ma’
progressing famously all the av
reigned supreme in
edo-Persic decisions
were never disputed. This was exit No. 1.
this in the most incisive way
yer ’spects ter go ter the quilt-
e’ll take yerself ter bid
n t none too strong, an’ I

But I hain’t on

means of melting the
onventionality that gh daddy 0' this burg !—

This last burst from his lips like a wail.

He had had nothing stronger than water for
three days and nights. For once in his life he
had forgotten liquor during the all
thirst for gold.

“ I’m dry! dry as a boss!
claim, ’less some galoot gits his work in bar

and she rose equal

I must locate this

He drew a circle about the spot where he
had washed his first pan of gravel. Then he
drove the pick and spade into the soil; and
after dumping the contents of the pan intoa
greasy buckskin bag, turned his back upon the
spot, and trudged off in the direction of a

p which he had spied that morning rom
“Ann Mariar”—

imaginable—“ of
in’ at A’nt Jemi
right off. Yer hai
don’t banker arter the job 0‘ nussin’

Arriving there,he proceeded to fill up, and suc-
ceeded so well, that two days
covered his senses, realizing the fact that he
was sole owner of a promising claim.
“ I’m a fine bonanzar king, I am! Drunk as
a lord! an’ millions waitin’ out’n ther claim tor
be dug up,” he ejaculated, disgustedl
rose from the shady side of a shanty,
inanimate form had been deposited during
He wended his way back to the little
valley where his claim was located.
As he drew nearer, a sou
which almost drove the bl
It was the harsh

passed ere he re-

This was another settler; and this time Joe
Jimsonweed was left disconsolate.
The twin-sisters, Oconee an

d Ocmulgee, be-
gan to look as though they f

elt their time had
come; but with their courage screwed to the
point, and backed by the advances of
ivins and Pete Parker,
dreamed of a revolt in which t
on potent allies.
dingtou was a born

twent boys were brought up in the same way
as gir s—laced, kept indoors, taught sewing, em-
broidery, and playing the piano—what sort of
young men would thev be at twentyoone?” We
really do not know, Lillie, but we think they
would beara very close resemblance to a ma-
jority of the young men nightly seen smoking

they evidently
hey could count
But Miss Mississippi Mud-
strategist. She changed

nd fell upon his ears,
end from his heart.
grating of a spade, as it was

 

 

was told of awonderful instance of prayer cure,
she remarked: “Only think of it! It didn’t
cost one cent, did it?”

THE Boston Post claims to have discovered
that men laugh at women for crying when they
want to swear, when the fact is, men swear
when they want to cry.

“ GREAT truths are often said in the fewest
words.” Do you mean the remark of the In—
dian who, on sitting upon a wasps’ nest, arose
and remarked, “ Heap helll”!

' IT is said that the fashion in swearing is chang—
ing. The new style will probabl y develop some
word that will prove adequate to the situation
Eben a man’s suspenders break while he’s waltz-

g.
IN Central American marriages the 111
provides the entire trousseau of the bri e, but
as it generally consists of a piece of cotton
spoult a yard square, it doesn’t cost him a deuce
o a ot.

A Ponr Hmr paper says there is a fortune
in store for the man who can contrive a machine
to rid that lace of two thirds of its canine popuo
lation. hereupon an inventive genius arises
and suggests a sausage machine.

“I SUPPOSI you have heard of our dudes,
Miss Clarwa!" observed a New York swell to 3
Jacksonville girl. “Oh, yes,” she answered,
“they are becoming very popular in Florida.
We use them for alligator bait.”

CHICAGO has a man who is said to be more
than a minute behind. He sees or hears nothing
in less than a minute after the act, and every
sense is delayed a corresponding time. He is no
relation to the fellow who is always too pre-
vious.

“ WHAT relation is that oung person to you?”
asked a caller of Mrs. cGill, as the servant
girl passed through the room. “ She’s nssister
to me,” replied Mrs. McGill, while the caller
mentally remarked upon the strong family re-
semblance.

“WHAT is woman's sphere?” Seems just as
if we had heard that conundrum before. Wo-
man’s sphere, let us remark it, is as broad as it
is long. If you are a woman you can’t get out
of it, and if you are a man you are all the time
getting mixed up with it.

A mascnnnnxran preacher took for his

text, “ Feed my lambs.” As he came out of the
church, a plain old farmer said to him: “ That

was a very good text, but you placed the hay so

high in the rack that the lambs couldn’t reach
it, nor the old sheep either I”

A Fanucn investigator finds that, in propor-

tion to its size, a bee can pull thirty times as
much weight as a horse. The unfortunate in-
dividual who accidentally upset a beehive is
firmly convinced that the French investigator
is eminently correct in his assertion. -

A LADY of experience observes that a good

way to pick out a husband is to see how patient-
ly the man waits for dinner when it is behind
time. If he doesn’t do anything more violent
than kick the furniture and blaspheme he is a a
mighty patient and good-natured man.

“ I HEAR the widow Ferguson is in very des-

titute circumstances,” and Deacon Gilpin to
’Squire McGill the other evening. “Y , I
s’pose she is,” replied the ’squire. “I should
think the lodge would do something for her.”
“ Oh. they di .
lished ’most a half-column of resolutions.’

When Ferguson died they pub-
Snn said that she wanted a ticket to Wyan-

dotte and return, and the pale, entlemanl
agent with the dark mustache ask , as he too
up the pasteboard, “Single?” “ It ain’t any of
your business, as I know of,” she answered,
tartly; “I might have been married a dozen
times if I’d felt like providin’ for some poor,
shift! wreck of a man!”

Mus. LILLIE Dnvnannx Bun asks: “If

 

thi ust into the gra cigarettes in the lobbies of theaters.