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COPYRIGHT, 1883, BY Burma AND Ann‘s.

 

E. F. Beadle.
William Adams.
Davta Adams,

{ PUBLISHERS.

NEW YORK, MAY 5, 1883.

One copy, four months, 81.
TERMS IN Anvasca. One copy. one year, . . 3.
, Two copies, one year, . 5.

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TELEGRAPH DETECTIVE

Or, THE DYNAMITE LEAGUE.

 

 

 

 

 

BY GEORGE HENRY MORSE.

 

 

CHAPTER L
m TRAIN-wnscxm

ONE wild, tempestuous night in the month of _Sep-
tember a scene of startling interest was transpiring
at the little village of Brocton, located halt-way 
tween New York and Philadelphia, on the main hue
of the Pennsylvania Railroad. '

The hour was ten o‘clock, yet, with the exception
of an occasional light in the valley below, only the
white safety signal of the station relieved the. dark-
ness of the scene, together with the illuminated
register of the passage of the last train East—“9:23
P. M."

'l‘wo )ersons alone were visible in and around the
silent t. epOt—the one a pale, thoughtful-faced young
man, who bent over the telegraph instrument in the
ticket-office—the other a tall well-dressed individual
who. standin within the shelter of the platform
awning, had been watching the falling rain for some
time.

The latter finally approached the open window of
the office looking out I pen the platform, and draw-
ing a match from his pocket proceeded to strike it,

reparatory to igniting the unlighted cigar between

is teeth.

The noise startled the operator. He lifted his
head quickly, frowned slightly at his own abstracted
nervousness and then resumed his writing at the
desk before him, interrupted a moment later by the
familiar query of the stranger:

“ What time does the next train arrive!”

“ For the north?“

“ Yes."

“ At 11:53."

The other yawned weariiy, regarded the operator
as his busy fingers flew over the paper before lum
with a slight token of interest in his cold gray eyes,
and then, as if desirous of winning his conversation
to alleviate the tedium of along waiting, paved the
way by drawing out a pocket-case and tendering it
to the operator with the words:

“ Iiave a cigar.“

Again the other started; a slight shade of annoy-
ance crossed his face, and be said almost brusquely:

“i do not care to smoke.“

The stranger shrugged his shouldem, and with the,
careless familiarity of a light-minded man of the
world, said:

“ Don‘t be unsociai.“

The imputation in the words caused the operator
to reach out and take one of the still-proffered Cl-
gars, as if atoning for his rudeness. He lit it, threw
down his pencil, and, leaning back in his chair, re-
si ned himself to listen to the rambling talk of the
ot ier as he descanted on the rainy night, the lonely

village, the general topics of weather, crops and

railway matters.

 

“I see you are anxious to resume your work,” i
said the man. suddenly interruptin his strain of
talk, with a peculiar ex )ression, ha 1' railed, in his I
eyes. ” I‘ll walk up an down the platform and .
wait for the train." ;

The operator resumed his task and the other pro- ;
cceded along on the platform. As he reached its l
extreme length he mused, raised his finger to his
lips and blew a pecu iar, short, shrill whistle.

A minute later the form of a man emerged from
behind a )ile of ties at the side of the road. R0 h-
ly dresse .he presented a strange contrast to is
rather elegantly-attired companion.

“ {iaytontw said the latter, half-inquiringly.

ll ‘CSIVV

“You are all ready?“

“ All ready, Torrance, when you are."

“ Ilow many are there of you?“

0‘ Six.il

"Very well; begin our work. It is now aquar-
ter past ten. In alitt e over an hour the Philadel-
phia mail is due. Place the obstructions about the
mildle of the bridge, and make no mistake in doing
the job well.“

“ is there no train either way until the mail?"

ll V0ne.ii

The new—comer glanced quickly in the direction of
the station. Within the circle of light emanating
from the office. he. saw the form of the operator,
his head sunk in his arms on the table.

“ You have fixed him?“ with an inquiring look at
his companion.

“ The cigar has,“ replied the other, with a signifi-
cant smile.

“Will it keep him quiet until our work is done?"

“Without doubt, as surely as the most ]t()\vrl'fui
narcotic. Get the clamps and ties over the rail. 1
will join you in a few minutes.“

“ And if the operator should awake?“

“It will be of no avaiL Ishall attend to the wires
myself."

'l‘hey disappeared in the darkness at the words,
with a glance at the station. The, light in the office
flickering in the wind showed the form of the opera-
tor still in its slumbering position.

Powerful indeed must have been the narcotic in
the drugged cigar, for the silent figure moved not,
even when a rude jar shook the clicking instrument
before him. To an expert operator, the inharmoni.
ous, confused clicking of the wires would have indi—
cated trouble on the line. The rat-tat-tat broke into
a rude jargon; then a spell of silence; and, sharp
and definite. sounded on the air the quick call of an
impatient operator signaling l’rocton.

And even amid his clouded sensibility some me.
chanical intuition of duty‘s call penetrated the dazed
brain, and the operator stirred uneasily; his hands

 

went stupidly to his head; his eyes opening. gazed
vacantly around the place.

A heavy dullness oppressed his brain; his tin ers
were strangely cramped and numb, but wit a
mighty effort he endeavored to shake ed the trance-
like lassitude which deadened action and impulse.

His hand, as he discerned troublcand adjusted the
ground wire. touched the s“ itch. and his reluctant
gagers responded to the call from the New York of-

cc:

“ Line closed beyond Brocton to Philadelphia.
What is the trouble?“

The message awoke his mind to a full realization
of the situation, and his dry, fevered tongue caught
the taint of some bitter taste in his mouth. The
episode of the cigar flashed over his mind, and he
sprung to the window and gazed out quickly.

The man who had tendered him the cigar was not
in sight. His face grew pale; his eyes startled as he
gazed at the clock. It was just a quancr of eleven!

Jum ling through the window he glanced at the
wire, ollowing the. connection south. His worst
suspicions were confirmed. The line had been tam-

icred with, and the wire torn from the nearest pole
lung swayin in the wind. His quick glance sweep-
ing the lengt i of the station (“5001 ncd that the other
end 1had been drawn away as far as his eye could
reac i!

Ilis heart beat high with anxiety as he intuitively
diriucd Some cvii plot at Work. \\ by had the con-
nection been broken? Why had he been drugged?
Connecting certain mysteries concerning himself
with the situation, a ready theory pit-scnted itself to
his thoughts, and picking up a lantern he started
down the track toward the high bridge spanning the
l'lW‘i‘.

lie staggered and fcll as a man sprung from be-
hind a switch and dealt him a teri‘ib * blow on the
head with an iron coupling-pin. The lantern swung
high from his grasp as he fell; but its rays illuminat-
ing the ft‘ailii‘t-S of his assailant wrung the words
from his lips;

“ Dayton! I thought as much."

Then he sunk iusensible to the ground, while the
other, with a single glance at his prostrate victim,
started toward the bridge.

The rain fell heavil ; the wind blew a. wild hur-
ricane, but the silent ure lying across the tracks
moved not for some moments. Finally a low moan
of pain and Willis Marvin the operator, struggled to
his feet and gazed down t m road.

Lights were flashing at the bridge; the forms of
men were. busy piling a huge barricade of iron and
wooden ties across the track!

“Great heavensl“ he groaned. “ They mean to
wreck the Philadelphia mail 1“

 

 

 

 

   
    
  
    

 

 

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he started down the steep decline to the bed of the
river.
over it was the iron span across which, unless
stopped, the Philadelphia mail must soon rush to
wreck, ruin and disaster!

above, the operator forded the river, swam its deep-
est ortion, struggled up the bank, and, once more t
on t e road-bed of the tracks, ran a few rods around
a curve and sprung for the nearest tolegrafili- )ole.

station to insure disaster he now performed to save
property and life.

vision for one point at least—~that the means of com-
municating south, by telegraph, should be cut off.
Keeping along the track, \\ illis Marvin saw, \VlLll a
feeling akin to horror as he realized that the mail
train was due in less than half an hour, that the sev-
ered wire had been drawn from the posts to a point
near the bridge.

 

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r

A dozen plans to defeat their purpose ran riot
through his exi.ited mind. He Would hasten to the
bridge, and, single-handed, boldly defeat the pur- ‘
pose of these human ghouls! He would hurry to the V
town below and arouse its slumbering citizens. But, 5
when he calculated how futile would be the first i
scheme, how replete with delay the other, he de- ,
cided on a new course, and wiping the blood from
his forehead started toward the station. I

A spring through the window and his fingers ‘
quickly sent a message to the next town north. l

“Train—wrecln‘i‘s at work, Am alone, and the
wires south cut! Send assistance, quick!”

The peril of the hour seemed to awaken ready and

ropcr ac'ion. From a drawer in hisdcsk, his trem-
ling fingers drew a pocket transmitter in frequent
use along the line: he grasped the instrument in his

down the tracks toward the bridge.

Whoever had formed the scheme, to insure suc-
cess in the undertaking of the night had irade pro-

“Can I signal the junction be ore
To approach nearer the bridge would be folly and

It was a broad, wandering stream. and high

In the darkness, unperceived by the workers

What the murderous hand had accomplis e at the

With an agilit born of experi-

 

 

severed strand to his instrument. (I

of sickening thuds of suspense as he signaled the
Junction.

ti

hand; his body swa ed to and fro on his dizzy perch, _
and life and sensibi ity seemed desertin him. i Silence.

thrilling his frame.

i

His fingers trembled; his heart beat a dull series

The reply came “ O. K!"
_The clicking instrument conveyed the rapid ques-

on:
“Has the Philadel hia mail passed?" fl
A roan of horror Burst from his lips at the reply:
“ es. Five minutes since!”

The instrument dropped from Willis Marvin’s

“Great heavens!” he cried, a. sud en reaction '

Why did ' W

time here?”

Down the pole, and into the bushes at the side of

Then quivering

A shrill, echoing whistle in the far distance aroused

him like an electric shock. He had waited, ere act— . m

ing, so as not to warn the men at the bridge.
he applied a match to the pile.
whic

Now ' fr
The dry leaves '
he had carefully gathered from under the l

bushes blazed, but the wet chips spluttered and , in

flared and did not ignite.

lighted match, a blaze, and the

pieces of wood burst into a bright, rudd flame! .‘ th

the engine as the iron monster came in view. The
danger-whistle sounded like a scream of warning!
The wheels slid along the track, and then, with a
jerk, came to a. full stop like some panting, trem-
bling thing, imbued with if

Its brilliancy dimmed the advancing eadlight of fa

to! co
Overcome by the excitement, utter]

arvin

operator. ‘
The latter pointed to the bridge. ‘

“ £he bridge has fallen?” ‘
H * 0. H
" What then?”

Go yonder.” he said, “and see." ‘

‘ Train-wreckers. ” ‘

As half the train hands started toward the bridge, ‘

Marvin recovered himself sufficient! to give a de-
tailed account of the events of the night to the con-
ductor and the gaping, horrified throng about him.

" What can have been the object?” inquired the thi

conductor, when the operator had finished his ex-
citing recital.

be

not hope to realize much out of the mail.”

fore they began operations, and they surely could me

As he spoke and lifted his eyes, he was enchained _ ter

by the fascinating influence of a pair of dark, search- ‘ “ The sign !” cried the young girl, her face turning

ing orbs which, looking forth from a love] face im- wh

bued with interest in his words, were fixe ,
upon his own. of

Their possessor was a oun
eighteen years of age, w ose eautiful face bore as
much of startled thought as of loveliness as she ap- ‘ desk.
proached the operator.

The others had eagerly turned to learn what the 1101
engineer had discovered at the bridge, as he and his *
party returned to the train.

Her gloved hand touched Marvin’s arm with a gen-
tle but agitated movement.

emotion betrayed in er dark, searching eyes.

tempt to wreck the train ?" she said, in a. low, steady

tone.

He bowed, mutely, wonderingly.

‘ I can explain the mystery.”

He starte
“ You?” he cried, in increasing bewilderment.
“Yes. The cause of the attempted crime can be

told in one word.”

Fascinated by her manner. his eyes fixed upon her
face, Willis Marvin started violently as she su ple-

O

intently ,‘

girl, not more than

c faced her, su rised, startled, at the intense

You express wonder at the cause of the at-

at her earnest manner and words.

merited her words with the avowed object o the “

attempted crime:

" The cause," she said, slowly, impressively, “is— ma

myself I”

Tan face of Marvin, the telegraph operator, be- to fear, who are the foes with whom you have to
trayed the blankest bewilderment as the mysterious '
passenger professed to attribute a tangible motive

or the attempted wrecking of the mail train.

All suspicions that she was insane or the victim of
a delusion wrought by the excitement of the occa-

sion were ut to flight as Marvin regarded her ' his beautiful companion, Marvin 'stened breath-
earnest, quiet face, her clear, innocent eyes. less] to her words.
" I do not understand—” he be an. “

6‘

rupted the young lady.
sought, I am assured, by the train-wreckers. owe
you gratitude. I owe you confidence, and yet—”
She paused, a troubled look in her face, an appeal-
ing ex ression in her glance fixed steadfastly upon

 

CHAPTER II.
A nnnrnnmo MYSTERY. we

 

ing

Nor can I entirely elucidate t e mystery,” inter-
“You have saved in life, for

the a e, perplexed countenance of her com anion. ing

“ on may trust in me,” he said, impulsive y; “ but
I think you mistake the motive of these men. It
may be fancy, but, if so, that fancy bears a singular
coincidence, for I believe that this night’s work was
directed against myself solely.” day packed u

It was the woman’s turn to express surprise. But
ere she could speak the conductor’s voice was heard
addressing the passengers.
:‘dWe will be delayed here an hour or more,” be
88.1 .

to remove them.”
companion, abruptly recalled to his duty by the con-
ductor‘s words.
“ May I accomgan you ?”
There was neit er
pefil. Only the earnest voice of a woman bent upon
0 om

mind.

“Two iron clamps have been adjusted to the

oldness nor coquetry in the ap-

ng out some definite purpose formed in her

“Certainly, if you choose,” ter,

He assisted her over the ties when the railroad
bridge was reached and past the train hands who that city, leaving
were endeavoring to find some clew to the where- a
abouts of the perpetrators of the outrage who had
disappeared.

The depot office once reached he handed his com-
panion to a. chair.

Her manner was trembling, im-

patient, until she had reverted to the interrupted T

subject-if conversation. As she sat fully revealed 0
to him in form and feature, the operator could not

but observe that she possessed an air of hi h breed- “
ing, that her apparel was rich and costly, ier pure “

face exquisite! beautiful.

She betrayed a strange his

interest in attributing the events of the night to her “

enemies.

H

my

You have taken the words of explanation from the
lips,” said the woman, finally, “ by a most start- the

ling statement. Tell me what you know of this ing

affair, and perhaps what I have to divulge will be

supplementary and important.” An

wearying one. I believe t

It would be a long story. and perhaps to you a confirmed my suspicions. This man Revere had
e attempted crime to once been a suitor for my hand. I had rejected him,

have been prompted by men anxious to put me out for

of the way,” replied Marvin.
“To kill you?”
“No, but to bound me down, to drive me from

OHS

 

  

swallowed up by the earth, my fat
viii, lawyer of Nassau street, New Y
his ofiice one afternoon six months since, and we.
lost to the sight of men.
has failed to disclose a sin

forward, her eyes fixed

. vin. “ Suicide—accident. ho;
away I am satisfied, because he he
ence he ascended the pole. selecte the Philadelphia and secrets of a client.”

wire, and hanging by the cross-trees he applied the

trembling on the brink of a discovery so strange!
brought to them by a singular meeting, they sa ,
one awaiting the words of the other.

“ I must not delay here. In I him, around the destinies of all who knew or be-
five minutes more the train will go crashing through friended him, has been woven so deadly, so fatal 3.
onder bridge unless I save it. A signal!

not think of it before instead of wasting valuable ' and haunted that friendship.”

garded her in wondering silence for some time. At
the track, dragging ties, grass, leaves, and chips of la
wood near it, he piled them over the rails until they _. pale but resolute.
were in themselves an obstruction.
with excitement he sat down to listen.

I had been thrown there from some passing vehicle. in
He emptied his pockets of what scraps of paper some inexplicable manner, and was dirt-begrimed

they contained. A and torn.

was in the power of a band of men, whose motives,
crime and gain, had been called into requisition in a
case where he was concerned. He informed me
that, watched by

rostrated that even this letter would reach me.
by the terrible strain upon his nerves, \ i is M
had fallen back against a. pile of ties and sat there,
pale and agitated.

The engineer sprung from the cab, and, followed
by the conductor and train hands, gathered around
him in wild wonder, while the alarmed passengers
hastened from the cars, startled and curious, to learn
what had occurred

? of his arrest were the secrets he possessed of Gerald
Thorndyke, a client just returned from Europe.
I The letter was interrupted inits conclusion hastily
for it wound up abruptly with the statement the.
his captors were about to remove him to another
place, and if he refused to divulge an important so-
cret had threatened to kill him.
| the interests of Gerald Thorndyke,’ he concluded.
“What is the matter?" demanded the engineer, a ‘Trace down my enemies: they are Reuben Day-
gazing from the blazing pile on the track to the pale ton—J ”

met once before, a former servant of my father’s
family.”

men. I was pursued, threatened, even shot at
several times. A false charge caused my removal
from the detective force. I came here for rest, to

concerning whom I only know four facts: That
. ! Gerald Thorndyke’s secrets have cost In father his
'I cannot comprehend. The express had passed ’ liberty, perhaps his life; that Reuben

I hunt me down as they did my father; and the mys-

“ Yes, the mystic symbol impressed upon the arm

I the order. hall
pencil to outline the symbol upon the paper on the

The woman waved her hand with a gesture of

“No, no,” she cried.
the red-stained broken blade, the name of the order
it represents, the D namite League.”

H h

in awed tones, impressed, he knew not why, by the
singular name.

“ Yes, it is the Dynamite League which has robbed
both of us of a father; it is this confederation of
crime which, hiding the real actor, is working out a.
terrible record to remove from its ath the obstacles
to that hidden person’s success.
has brought us together, a fate the first operations
of which are harbinger! of success and hope.”

She spoke with afll the wild inspiration of faith
and enthusiasm. Her eyes glittered brightly, her
face flushed, her every gesture imbued with energy
and indomitable perseverance.

calmly.

meeting with
incidence, and that I, an not you, was the cause of
this last desperate act of these men.

deal.”

In the distance the sounds of the engine getting up
steam. and the confusion incidental to havin the
train obstructions removed. broke upon their car-

Thorndyke, a wealthy, retired banker of New York,

recover failing health. Before leaving America be
converted the bulk of his fortune into money, and
left only such property as he had possessed for a
long time, among whic

torney, a Mr. Marvin.”
“My father,” murmured the operator.
The girl bowed assent, and continued:
“At Palermo, about a year since, my father one

nounced to me that he was about to return to
America. I knew how powerful were his caprices,
and I offered no objection, he no explanation. But.
to my surprise, when I arose the next morning, he
had gone alone. He had left a. note stating that
track and we will have to send for mechanical aid business of the utmost importance had called him
to New York, and that he had found the haste neces-
“I must go to the station,” said Marvin, to his sary on the voyage would make it inconvenient to
himself. and unpleasant to me to accompany him,
and leaving me a check fora large amount of mo-
ney, had gone. I was very much alarmed, but as I
received letters at Paris and Live
resigned myself to his decision. T on a lapse of si-
lence, and I was utterly prostrated six months since
when I received from

ther had died from ship fever at his residence in
bank-account at

The name signed was that of a man I loathed and
detested at t

regard as my father’s murderer, and my most im-
placable enemy, Adrian Revere.”

c amation of surprise.

drawn his bank-account, except sufiiCient to meet

Revere, I knew that foul play had been at work.

of loose adventurers, of being concerned in numer-

E drone.

their trail, to bring the obloqiiy of neglect upon my
name and secure my discharge. from employment.”
The eyes of the young girl betrayed the most 111-

tense interest. I
“ Why should they do this?”
“ I do not know.”

It was her turn to regard him as laboring under
‘ some delusion.

“ When I say I do not know,” continued the you

man, his sad, earnest eves fixed upon her beautifu he
face with that expression which confidence makes
sympathy, “ I mean that the operations and motives
of my enemies are obscured in part. You have
i read of men limited down from reasons of re

other powerful motives; such a pc

one of their number and sought to trace them down
systematically drove me from every position
occupied, from a desk in a counting-room, from
position on the metropolitan detective. force, which
secured to follow them more closely.
verily believe their iniquity culminated in drugging
me, in attem )ting to cause a frig

To-night

.l

he other.
6‘  71
“May he not have—”

“I know what you would say,” interrupted Mar-
he was decoyed
ld the confidence

Y

“A client?” the woman’s lips queried, her e es
ilating wildly as she re eated his words. “ on
have traced the mystery t us far.
3 that client’s name?”
it

Yes. It was Gerald Thorndyke.”
“ Merciful heavens! My father.”

The operator fell back in his chair as if an electric
shock had driven animation from his

xed him there. Each heart in a wild tempest,

“ Your father!” cried the operator, breaking the

“ Yes. Gerald Thorndyke was my father. Around

eb of events that a curse seems to have followed
Her face sunk upon her hand. The operator re-
st she lifted her eyes to his, more calm, her face

" Will you proceed?” she said.
He bowed quietly and continued:
“ How I know this, how I have ascertained that
y father was the victim of a vile plot, I discovered
om a letter.”
“ A letter?”
“ Yes. Six months since a street gamin picked u
Barclay street an envelope directed to me. It);

But the little arab brought the letter to
e direction it bore. That letter was written in my
ther’s hand. Hastin scrawled, it told me that he

them, he had sought in vain to
mmunicate With me, and that he had no hopes
The motives

‘I will be true to

‘ And there the letter ended?”
‘There it ended.”
‘And this man Dayton ‘2”

‘ Is the man I met to-night. Is the man I have

‘And your position here?”
‘Was taken to gain temporary covert from these

nk, and then to return to search for these men,
ayton is a
mber of the band; that these men are bound to
ious sign of this organization.”

ite and agitated.

Dayton, erha s on the arm of each member of
show it to you?” and be seized 0.

TOP.
“I know it only too well—

e Dynamite eague,” repeated the operator,

ut it is fate which

Let me relate my story,” she continued, more

“Let me divulge to you that which will
kc mysteryceplain, and prove to you that your
uben Da ton tonight was but a co-

Then, whether
join issues or not, you will know what you have

, but neither heeded it. Intent u n the voice of

am Constance Thorndyke, daughter of Gerald

two years a resident of Italy. where he went to

was the homestead on Irv-
Place, in the charge of a true friend and an at-

p his effects very suddenly and au-

1 from him, I
New York a. brief, formal let~
from a distant relative, to the eflect that my fa-

me all his personal efTects and
lermo, and the rest to the writer.

e time, whom I have since learned to
he woman paused and glanced inquirinfilly at the
rator, as the latter started violently wit an ex-
You know this man?” she asked.

Yes, but only incidentally. I traced Dayton to
home one night.”
\Vhen I recalled that, in leaving, my father had
check left with me, that he had taken with him
steel casket containing the valuables represent-
his entire fortune, an when I thoughto Adrian

examination of some private papers left behind

he had the reputation, in connection with a band

swindling schemes in the various capitals of

' venge or

,' rson l have reason

1 to believe myself to be; a victim to the plots of

l leagurs of criminals, who first kidnapped and, feral!

hand and, barelicaded and wildly excited, (lashed i know, killed my father. and then, when I discoverc
l

htl'ul disaster to be

ch has sought to

her. Robert Mar-
ork city, left

The most persistent search
gle trace of him, the offer
of liberal rewards, the earnest efforts of private
detectives and myself have resulted in coming to a
blank wall on which seems writ
legend of metropolitan experience:
disappeared.‘ ”

Six months since,” murmured the girl, loaning
fascinated, interested upon

ten the too frequent
‘ Mysteriously

Can you tell me

frame and

 

termination to secure in

fortune.
tcrs I found several

rom him.

baser metals to gold.

I
d to continue its journey.

a rapidly.
I that he was also listening to her.
I “I will be brief,” she continued.

f leaving him heir.

father had left it with me.
s marriage, and I indignantly left the house.

when I sought friendly advice.
followed me.

influence and secrecy as its helpers.

ments.
wreck of the train.”

took his place at the instrument.
“M assistant,” explained Marvin, as he a

e had written.
Miss Thorndyke had arisen.

“ Yes, I must; and you?”
“ I will accom any you.”
She regarded im with startled surprise.

course.
your father’s interests.

his fidelit to the daughter.

to New ork. I shall watch and protect you.

to the operations of t e Dynamite League!”
(To ()5 continued.)

 

 

THE GOI_.D_EN WAY.

BY EMILIE CLARE.

You should be merciful. my friend,
As well as just and fair,
Rememb‘ring those you would condemn
Like you, have ills to share—
That every mortal has a mind,
And to the least is given
A secret (yearning for the good
We fin alone in heaven.

This were the angel-side of life
That only few can see—

Thc little smoldering spark of Love,
Lit by the Deity.

The hand so wea ‘ in deeds of might
The spirit may ins ire,

To paint a hero fort e field—
A martyr for the fire.

Do not despise the sculptor‘s art,
Because in this he failed

To make himself the counterpart
Of beauty he unvailed.

For who his own ideal lives
In this world‘s busy mart?

Who acts the romance that he gives
The public from his heart?

Not less he loves the erfect man—
Not less the path 0 Truth—

But like the seer of olden time
Is sinful from his youth,

And naught but mercy’s saving grace
Can wash away the taint—

The precious blood of Calvary
Produce the spotless saint!

The Magic Ship;

The Freebooters of Sandy Hook.

 

 

A Tale of Fiction, founded upon Fact, in the
History of the earlier days of New York
and its adjacent waters.

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR or “run LEAGUE or THREE,” “BUFFALO
BILL’B GRIP,” “MERLE, um: mmm,” n'rc.

CHAPTER XIX.
THE mnenoornn CAPTAIN.
THE one who made this savage threat, to punish
the Light—house Lily by killing Robin Sherwood in
her presence st just outside the window and
where the light from within the sitting-room fell full
upon him.
He was a young man, seeminglyl not over twenty-
one or two, and with a face of fearlessness,
frankness and daring, a face that one seein for the
first time would not forget, and would wis to see
again.
His hair was golden, and clustered in short curls
beneath his ta aulin. his eyes were deep blue. the
face was ess, and every feature was full of
e ressmn.
is form was seemingly slight, yet his movements
were as graceful as a. woman s, and the broad shoul-
ders, small waist, and firm] -knit frame indicated
great strength and activity.
He was dressed with almost foppish neatness, in
white duck pants, 8. blue flannel jacket, white shirt
with broad turnover collar, and beneath which was
knotted, sailor fashion, a black silk scarf.
The corners of the collar were ornamented with
gold stars, upon either shoulder was an anchor of
the same (precious metal, set with recious stones,
and aroun his tarpaulin was a rib on of silver. in
the dfront of which were ruby letters forming the
wor s:

 

“ SEA WIZARD."

About his waist was a belt of silver links, to

which, by a chain of the same precious ore, hung a

gold-hilted cutlass, while a pair of handsomely-

mouinted pistols were ready at hand for quick use if

nee be.

Upon one of these his hand now rested. as though

to carry out his threat, by shooting the one of whom

he was jealous.

He half drew the pistol, but, as though changing

his mind, said:

“ No, I‘ll take no advantage of even a rival.

“But I will face them!"

So saying. he placed his hand upon the window-

sill. an , though it was level with his breast, sprung

lightly into the room.

“ A pretty tableau this for a. lover to see his

sweetheart en aged in,” he said, with sarcasm, as he

sprung throng the window.

Lily uttered a. slight cry of alarm, and Robin

Sherwood half sprung to his feet, somewhat startled

by this sudden intrusion.

But the intruder seemed also taken aback, for

what he had taken for a love-scene he now saw was

one of kindness, for Lily was standin by the side of

the young ofl‘icer, as he sat u n t e settee, and

with her deft fingers was skillfu y dressing the sev-

eral wounds upon his head.

t “ Carrol i” cried Lily, flushing and paling by
urns.

“Lily, upon my honor I beg your pardon, and

yours, too, sir, and I will frankly admit that I doubt-

ed my sweetheart here, for she seemed to be fondly

caressing you.

“But I humbly admit my mistake, and, instead of

sending a bullet into your heart, as I intended, sir,

for I am a. jealous lad, I offer my hant .”

There was something so noble about the dashing
young sailor, so winning in his manner, and fran
in his confession of what he had believed and in-
tended, that Robin Sherwood grasped the out-
stretched hand and said earnestly:

“For my part you are wholly forgiven. sir: but
this lady saved my life, and brought me wounded to
her home, and is new kind enough to be my sweet

 

He had left in dissatisfaction and venge-

nurse.

ful, but, I ascertained, had not abandoned his dc-
Among the let-
For years my
father’s mind, weakened by old age, had enter-
tained a. vain delusion—the transmutation of metals.
I found that Revere, with ready wit, playing on
this susceptible chord, had induced my unsuspecting
parent to come to Paris, meeting him there and ac-
com lanying him to New York, where, he avowed,
liad found a chemist who could change the

In three months, after un-
usual delays from storm and disaster. I reached
New York to fliid Revere in possession of the family
mansion, installed as heir to my father‘s estates.”
A whistle, shrill and startling, interrupted the
a his story. She started, as she understood from
her companion‘s face that it was the engine ready

The other glanced at the clock, saw that it was
after midnight, and taking up a pen began to write
His companion discerned from his manner

“I boldly
charged Revere with the death of my father and
showed him what I knew of his plot. In return he
laid at my door. All I know is that mystery sur- was insolent, suave, threatening
rounds my father‘s disappearance, and I also know
but one member of the band whi

“Twenty minutes,” he murmured, lioarsely, as ruin my family and myself. As effectually as i
his appalled glance rested on the bridge laden with
strange figures, and a momentarily increasmg ile
of obstructions.
the train passes?”

by turns. He
denied any foul play, and produced the certificate of
my father’s death from natural causes, the will
He denied any knowledge of the
steel casket, and pretended to believe that my
Then he offered me

" Since then, day and night I have been followed, " Why?”
shadowed whenever I sought to watch him, balked
His emissaries have “ Th
Mysterious warnings, attempts on
my life. offers of bribes and threats to induce me
to leave America have assailed me, until I have had
it slowly developed to me that back of Revere stands
a powerful ally composed of his European adven-
turers, desperate assassins and criminals—the. Dyna-
mite League with its broken dagger as an, emblem,
I went to
Philadelphia to evade them, at last determined to
return to New York and seek police aid. Secure as
is this man's position, he must be unmasked, and I
sought to effect it. Sna lowed in Philadelphia, some
emissary has informed. the League of my move-

The result you have seen—the attempted

The train itself drew up in front of the station at
that moment, and a stranger entered the ofiicc and

“ You will proceed with the train?” asked Marvin.

“ You will abandon your position here?” she said.
“ I have done so already in the letter I handed my
assistant. To-night’s developments have decided my

My father suffered for his adherence to
If Gerald Thorndyke pos-
sessed sufficient claim on him to induce him to sac—
rifice liberty and life, the son will not be remiss in
I shall accompany you
With
issues identical, critical, hand in hand we will mutely
work out this dark in stery or die together victims

hum “in w i

f'

a wreck."

response.

seeing it, the young sailor turned and said:
“Have you no Welcome for me, Lil?"

that it was painful.

rol Gray left the room in search of Mrs Lennox.

burst into tears.
Sherwood, in a kindly tone.
she moaned.

your lover at an time.”
" No, no. I Wish he had remained away.”
“Or that I had not been here?”

saw him here.”

" I cannot explain, sir, do not ask me.

here as soon as you have gone, will you not, sir?
and she looked imploringly into his face.

forget you.” he said, softly.
She dropped her eyes. and then said, innocently:
“ You wi l forget all else, sir?”

“ Yes, if you will let me remember you.”
She made no re )ly, and he asked, softly:

you again?”

‘* Don‘t ask me.”

“ But I do ask it.” .

“Yes,” and she turned quickly away.
“ One question, Lily.

“ Who is that young man?”

She did not answer, and he said:

“Is  a sailor on board?”
“ Why do you ask?”

your sake. I will do all in mg power to save him."
“ You are a noble man, ‘

Sea Wizard!”

“ What?" asked Sherwood, in amazement.
“I tell you the truth,"

:‘glghatmiere boy the freebooter captain?"
‘ es.’

afloat better handled than the Sea

red deeds, and more merci
her commander.”

light-house. __
CHAPTER XX.
'rnn FREE-ROVER FRIEND.

 

she stepped to one side.

ars.
“ Well, sir, what do you want here?” asked Lily,
coldly.

The man step (1 into the room, followed by two
others, and clos

the door behind him, said in a
Sinister way:

“I had a leetle business that called me to see the

chief. miss, and so I made 111 report to him.”
“ What have I to do with t at? ’

“ You had everything to do with it, miss, for you

kept us from sending the captain there to Davy

Jones's locker.”

“ Well ?”

“ So the chief didn‘t like it miss."

“I am responsible to him for my actions, sir.”

“ But he holds me responsible, miss.”

“I will see him in regard to the affair myself.”

“I have already seen him, miss.”

“ And what said he, Anchor Tom?”

“ He told me I was a fool to be gulled by a. girl.”

“You are not the first man, nor will you be the

last, in fine fellow, to suffer in that way,” said

Robin S erwood, with a light laugh.

" Waal, I’ll not be again, and as I have my chief’s

orders I’ll carry ’em out."

i‘And what orders did he give you ?” coolly asked

y.

“ To come and get the prisoner."

“ And then?”

“To take him out upon the beach and carry out

our intentions."

“To drown me?”

“Yes, cap’n.”

“ And you have come to ca. out our orders?”

“ Yes, cap’n; but you will ave he consolation

that your mother will get your body, for I shall

ca it to her with tears in my eyes."
“ nchor Tom, leave this house at once with your

cowardly comrades!” said Lily, sternly.
“ Can’t do it, miss, for I intends to do my duty this

time.”

“ You refuse to obey?"

(5 I do.‘I

“ The chief shall hear of this.”

“ He‘ll back me up. mim, when he does.”

“ You know that he commands that I am to be

obe ed.”

“ l of: in this case."

h“ I will you yes, and I will be obeyed,” firmly said

t e ’

“ am not to be bullied, miss."

“ Pardon me, Miss Lennox, but as I am such a.

bone of contention, permit me to ask you for a cut-

lass, and, injured as am, I will face these devils, and

let them cut me down, for I shall not tamer submit

to being slam by them,” and Robin Sherwood arose

to his feet, though with difilculty.
“ You are piping fight, are you, cap'n? Well, you

shall have it.

“ Come, lads; let us tame this clipper,” and Anchor

Tom threw open the door and in rushed his villain-

ous comrades.

Quickly before them sprung Lily, while ' she cried

in  tones.

“. ac l every one of you. for I command obedi-
ence by this bad e!” and she snatched from about
hertneck a gold 0 ain with a strange device clinging
toi .

It was a serpent of emeralds, with ruby eyes,
teeth of rls, and a forked tongue of gold, a rare
and cost y trinket.

“The snake don’t charm now, miss for we has
orders from the chief,” cried Anchor Tom, and he
made a movement toward Robin Sherwood. who
had seized a chair with which to defend himself.
But just then the inner door opened and the free-
booter captain stepped into the room, a look of sur-
prise upon his handsome, daring face.

“ More compan . I see, Lil.

“Am I inv1te ?” he said, in a light tone, while
Anchor Tom and his comrades seemed somewhat
taken aback b his presence, which certainly was
unex cted to t em.

es. Carrol; and I am so glad you have come,
for Anchor Tom threatens to take Captain Sherwood
off and kill him.” .

“Anchor Tom will change his mind,” was the dry

reply;
‘ o, cap’n; for I has orders from the chief.”
“ To kill this gentleman ?”
“To drown him."
“ Indeed 1”
“Yes, cap‘n."
‘f Well, I order you not to do so.”
" I admit, you is the commodore, afloat, cap’n,
but on shore the chief’s word is law above all.”

“ I will be responsible to the chief for my
actions, sir ” stern y said the young rover.

“But he olds me responsi 1e, cap’n, and I shall
do as he says.”
“ One. moment, Carrol,”and Lily quickly told the
story of the young oflicer’s havi been cast ashore,
and all that followed, and then ded:

“ Now, Captain Sherwood has given his pledge,
nay, his oath, and he will keep it.”

_“ Ay, myloath upon that, or his heart lies while
his face to s the truth,” bluntl said Captain Gray.

“ You may believe it all, cap n, you and the girl;
but I hasOmy orders, and I’ll report ’em in the morn-
ing as being obeyed,” doggedly said Anchor Tom.

‘ If you and your cut-throat gan lay hand on that
American officer, by the heaven 3. ove, I’ll cut you
down where you stand!" cried the young freebooter
Calgtain, in clarion tones.

obin Sherwood fairly started at the ringing voice,
and, in s ite of his being a freebooter, mentally ad-
mitted t at he never saw a. grander man, than at
that moment he appeared.

At first the ban shrunk back before his thrillin
words; but Anchor Tom was not one to be thwarted
from any evil purpose, and turning to his comrades
he called out: ‘
“ Messmates, must we be heat back by the cap’n.
who has no v01ce ashore, big as he be on salt
water?”

0 f  I”

The word rolled out of every mouth determinedly.

“ That is your decision, is it?” cried the freebooter
captain.

 

“ My name is Robin Sherwood, sir, captain of the
late American brig-of—war Quickstep, for she is now

“ And my name sir, is Carrol Gray, like yourself a
sailor, and I am glad to meet you," was the frank

As for poor Lily, she seemed almost unnerved, and

“ Yes, Carrol, you know that you are always we]-
come,“ and Lily spoke in amanner so constrained

“Well, it does a sailor’s heart good to be welcomed
after a cruise; but, Lil, go in with your good Sa-
maritan work, while 1 hunt up your mother, whom
it would not surprise m»- to find (lres ing the wounds
of another handsome man,” and with a light laugh,
which showed that his jealousy had vanished, Car-

“ For shame, Carrol,” cried Lily, as he departed.
But when the door closed behind him she suddenly

“ My poor child, what is the matter?” said Robin
" Oh, that he should have come at such a time!"

“Why, I should think you would be glad to see
“ No, I do not mean that; but I am sorry that you

ere, I was foolish to cry, and I will behave
myself now; but you Will forget all you have seen "My compliments

“ That is a hard thing to ask of me, for I can never

"May I remem er you, Lily, and sometime see

“There is afamons free-rover known as the Sea

p- Wizard. and that name he has on his tarpaulin.”
roac ed the new-comer and handed him ,the letter “ es "

“Sometime he may be in trouble, and, if so, for

will answer you frankly, that e is the coy/lain of the

“You astound me, for there is no )irate craft
Vizard, and
no captain, I will frankly stay, that is freer from

f in his victories than

“ I am glad to hear 'you say that, sir, for Carrol
Gray is the freebooter ca tain— Ah 1” and Lily start-
ed as a knock fell upon t e door of the sitting-room,
for it was seldom that a visitor came to the lonely

“ Con: in!” said Lily. in answer to the knock. and
having finished dressing the wounds of her guest,

The door opened, and in peered the evil face of
Anchor Tom. while at his back was seen a crowd of
men, evidently the entire force from the lair in the

“ It is.”
“ Then the sooner

piercing whistle.

self, Curl'ol Gray spru
and faced them, a pis

and pistol.

deadly efl’cct.
At the same instant

freebooter’s blade.
way:
to swing my cutlass.”

,.

cried the frcebooter c
worthy.

among his men, who, t
hem.
slain by S
tossing them out of
without.

tain Sherwood, quietly,

again.

“ Ay, ay, sir!

The men wore white
tarpaulins, and were
darin , gallantlooking
one 0 them being over

the eyes of fair ladies.
“Come Jean, let me

the noose about my nec
“ Captain Sherwood,
Oudiz, a good fighter, a
low, ut a bad man.”

tenant, w
I have of n heard; but

be his pleasure and in
circumstances such as

 

ence here shoul

must accept m expla
those wretches are not
hold their hatred.

for I have to epart b '

home?”

“Yes, captain.”

“I am aware of that,
ness.”

“ But I cannot permit
“There is no risk, sir,

is the Peggy Younglove, out of t
bound to New York with lumber.

“ The Wind is very fres
craft, and it is early yet

“ I thank you, 811', and
ofier.”

cred about us, may be as
“ It shall be, I assure
oath to Miss Lennox to t

thanked them for all th

3 Visit to a lonely

“ Don’t move, captain,
and return it before daw
“ Come, lads, up with

“Oh, Carroll” cried

cottage, an his

settee being lifted off,

vessel .

sprightlty, well—dressed t
only a e

a coasting)ng such as
fessed to .
1y as possible.

send my steward to me.
e order was obeyed,

with two stern lights.
the rover captain sai :

" Silas, we are not cute
or custom-house ofiicial,
our best liquors and wine

soon reagpeared
gold, an

a. fisherwoman.
H  ’H

Stepping to one side of

booter touched a secret spring, and back slid hea.
panels, revealing a vastly diff: rent scene, one Whig
showed that chJflace they were in was b

cleverly arrang to hide
vessel.

Sherwood was dazed

er own rig, and boldly t
ning up unrecognized.

that on deck?
“Pardon me, please,”
hastily left the cabin.

in were it as easy to go to
main there in the inornin
the morning as it is to ta
go to bed!

 

 

better,” and springing to the window,
gold hilt of his cutlass to his lips, and gave one long,

Instantly it was answered in the distance; but... as
though satisfied to stand the brunt of the fight him-

the other, while he cried lightly: .
“ All hands alloy to obey the chief‘s orders!"

CHAPEE XXI.
'rnr: QUEST or A PIRATE. _
“ Loox out for him, lads, for he is death With blade

“Don‘t hurt him, but take the prisoner!” cried
Terror Tom, and one of his men, more eager than
the rest, sprung forward to lay his hand upon the
arm of Robin Sherwood

lint he fell in a heap upon the floor crushed
down by a stunning blow of the young officer, who
brought his upraised chair upon his head with

to utter a shriek of pain, as his hand dropped at
feet, severed at the wrist by a. sweeping cut from the

At the same time Lily, armed with a pistol placed
herself by the side of her lover, who cried in his light

“ Get back with the captain, Lil, and give me room

t the same moment his pistol flashed and a third
member of the gang was out of the fight.
to you next. Anchor Tom,"

But Anchor Tom held opinion that he would like
to live to fight another day, and bounded back

retreat, went peli-mell out of the door backward,
dragging their comrade, who had lost a hand, with

“Clear the decks of your dead, lads,” shouted
Carrol Grag', seizing the two dead pirates, the one
erwood, and the one he had shot, and

closed, just as there came the sound of rushing feet

“They are coming back reinforced,” said Ca

“N0, those are my brave Wizards.

“ Wizards alioy !” shouted Carrol Gray.

Wizards on deck !” was the cry in a.
cheery tone, and into the room bounded a young of-
ficer, followed by a score of gallant tars.

He was older than his captain, and had a reckless
a tain Sherwood, and I face, marred by vice, while he was dressed like his
commander, with the exception of wearing silver
ornaments instead of gold.

“Bravo, lads! but the battle’s ended, the enemy
has run off, and if they have left their dead, you
can bury them, for lifeless hulks are no sights for

and a. sailor, one who may some day han
me to the yard-arm of the brig-of-war
but who is my friend for all that, even if he puts

Robin Sherwood smiled at this off-hand introduc-

tion, and grasped the hand of the freebooter‘s lieu-
0 said, pleasantly:

“I am led to meet t aptain Sherwood, of whom

“ It would be a bitter misfortune to me, sir, to have
to sentence to death a. brave man. though he wore
on his brow the brand of pirate,” answered Cap-
tain Sherwood with feeling; and turning to the free-
bootcr captain, he continued:
“ Captain Gra , I regret exceedingl that my pres-
have caused troub e
ma be visited upon Miss Lennox and her mother,
an bring you into disfavor with your chief, for such
I judged from What I heard.“
“ My dear captain, do not speak of it, for my chief

“ But I tell (you frankly; sir, you are not safe here
return for you, so a ow me to carry you to your
“You, sir?” asked Robin Sherwood, in surprise.
“ But my home is in New York, sir.”

it and admired its look of solid comfort and hapgiy-

land you within two hours, for the Peg

"It is for the best; but gardon me if I ask that all
that has passed here, an

" I can ask no more, sir.

“ Now, when you are ready, we will start."

“ I am at 'our service now, Captain Gray, as soon
as I have hidden my kind hostesses farewell and

he turned to Mrs. Lennox, who just then entered the
room, having been absent during the turmoil upon
a duty she never forgot in storm or calm, for it was
' ave in the cedars near by.

In a few earnest y spoken words Robin Sherwood
thanked the mother and dau hter, and in grasping
the hand of the latter said, so tly:

“I owe you my life, Miss Lennox, and the debt
shall never be forgotten."

aboard ship, and some day the captain may lift you
too, but it will be at the end of a. rope.”

laughed lightly at their captain’s joke.
“ ’ll be. back in a. few hours, Lil, and will meet
you at the chief’s, for it is important that I see you.
" Good night, Mother Len nox,” and dofl‘ln his tar-
paulin, the (gay oun freebooter left the lig t-house
o ow

The cot with its human freight was then {laced
u 11 one boat, and towed by another out to t
so that lay oflshore a. cable .
Then the boat was hauled up to the davits, and the

American navy, found himself on board a. pirate

But there was nothing about the craft, from what
Sherwood could see, to betray her as an outlaw was
so], for her decks were covered with lumber and the

w uncouth specimens of seamen could be
seen, just such a crew as would be eyected to man

“Up with the anchor Oudry, and crowd on the
Peggy ‘s clothes; for I wish to make the run as quick-

“ Here, lads, carry the”

himself in a small cabin, most plainly furnished, and
A negro then entcrgd with abottle and glasses, but

“ch, massa ca ’n,” responded the negro. and he
.aring a silver salver, goblets of

decanters of the finest cut- lass.

“And is this the vessel you cruise in, Ca. thin

Graofl, and which has defied all pursuit?”asked ‘ er-

wo .

“Yes. Captain Sherwood: but in her rig of the
Peggy Younglove, she is as different from her
natural self as is sweet Lil of the Light-house from

youiilg freebooter said, with a laugh:
“ ad I knowanas to have had such a distin-
guished guest, I would have kept the Wizard under

"Ah! we are in motion, and soon, my dear ca.
tain. you shall be at home— Ha! what trouble is

(To be contin tied—commenced in No. 20.)
E ' .
R

How much pleasanter this world would be to live

you begin to obe orders the
e raised the

up: before the desperate crew
to! in one hand, his cullass in

another made a like attemlpt,
is

aptain, advancing upon that

aking his action as a hint to

the door, which he quickly

rising and grasping his chair

pants, blue shirts and red
armed thoroughly, and a
set of tars they were, not
thirty years of age.

present you to a gentleman

you and
uickstep,
k.

this is my first lufi‘. Jean
thorough sailor, a genial fel-

sincerely trust it may never
misfortune to meet under
aptain Gray suggests.”

which I fear

nation of the affair, while
visit upon this little house-

wn, and those fellows wil

for I have often passed

you to risk yourself, sir.”

I assure you for my vessel
6 ennebec, and

h from the west, and I can

is a fast

and then you w1 be safe.”

I will accept of your kind

which you have discov‘
an unwritten page to you.”
you, for I have given my
hat effect.”

ey have done for me, ‘and

for I’ll borrow the settee,
n.

that settee, and carry it

Lily, but the pirate tare

men to the beach.

e veer
5 length

Captain Sherwood, of the

ars having gone orward,

the Peggy ounglove pro-

captain into my cabin, and

and Robin Sherwood found

rtaining a Yankee skipper
so get out the silver an
s.”

the cabin, the young free-

ut a. box
the luxurious cabin of the

with surprise, while the

aken the chances of run-

and the young freebooter

  

  

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bed at night as it is to re
, and as easy to et up in
k of getting up w en you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
  
    
  
   
    
   
     
     
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 

   
   
     
 
   
     
     
    
 
  
 
   
 
  
   
   
 
   
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
     
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
    
   
     
  
 
    
   
  
    
    
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
 
  
   
  
 
  
    
  
   
   
 
   
    
   
    
    
    
  
   
  
 
   
   
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
    
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
     
   
   
   
  
     
   
  
 
 
  
   
    
     
   
    
   
  
     
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
   
 
  
  
    
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
    
   
  
   
    
    
  
   
     
  
   
 
 
   
     
   
   
   
   
 
     
 
   
    
  
 
     
  
    
     
   
  
  
   
 
    
  
      
    
 
 
    
  
   
 
 
  
   
    
   
  
   
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
     
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
 

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“ALL’S WELL T_}_IAT ENDS WELL.”

BY MAY LESTER.

 

Is it only on their closing
That the worth of wor 's depend?
Matters it not what the method
So they show well at the end?
Will the garment finely finished
Satisfy every need,
If the seams are not sewn tightly?
When the farmer sows the seed,
Will it bring a bouuteous harvest,
If the soil is smoothly pressed—
Though the ground has ne‘er been mellowed—
Do such crops succeed the best?

Should we do some noble action
After doing wron for years,

Would that requite or the evil—
Banish every cause for fears?

If with that act our lives ended,
Who could sa we had lived well?

Can one hour 0 earnest efi‘ort

‘ Make amends for years of ill?

All is well that has good ending?"
Let us not our motto make!

Would we foster honest labor
Care with every part must we take.

Nor’ West Nick,

THE BORDER DETECTIVE ;
on,
Dan Brown’s Fight for Life.
BY JOS. E. BADGER. JR

'9
AUTHOR OF “ SWEET WILLIAM,” “OLD ’49,”
“ REVOLVER ROB,” ETC., ETC.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXII.
THE GAMBLER srocxs BIS cums.

WITH this 'signiflcant warning. St. Clair Guthrie
closed the door behind his gigantic tool, and return«
ing to the table, sunk down in a chair, leaning his
chin upon his hands, his eyes staring at vacancy.

Not many of the citizens of Rocky Bar would have
recognized the face of their prominent sport at the
first glance, could their eyes ave rested upon it just
now. The ic mask which he habitually wore was
dropped, his ace was haggard, and the lines which
marked it so deeply made him appear many years
older than his most intimate associates of Rocky
Bar had ever given him credit for being.

His was a remarkable nerve, but it had been ter-
ribly tasked during the last few days, and now,
when he believed himself free from all danger of
observation, St. Clair Guthrie suffered his mask to
drop. This unwonted relaxation was to him as
grateful as a bath of fresh, cool water would be to

he weary, worn wanderer through a mighty desert.

How long it lasted he never knew. He seemed
like one in a dream, when he was suddenly recalled
to himself by the faint sound of a human breath—
almost a sigh—and with the old littering light
flashing back into his blue e es, he jerked a revol-
ver from his bosom and w ' 'led around—to con-
front the dark, handsome face of the woman in
whose charge he had left Ma ean Ovelman.

Her thin, but briiliantly-re lips curled slightly as
she unfiinchingly met his gaze, and a low laugh
parted her white teeth.

“ You will not waste a bullet on me, Saint?"

“No—of course, no,” he muttered, lowering the
hammer of his weapon and returning it to its hiding-
place. “ But 1 was thinking—half asleep—and you
startled me.”

“You flatter me, Saint,” with a peculiar laugh.
“That is more than the best man in Rock Bar
could do, as I’ve heard others besides yoursel say,
more than once. Surely you are not beginning to
lose your nerve?”

“ If I were, it would not be so wonderful,” with a
grim laugh that came only from his lips. “ I‘ve

een playing a lone hand for the heaviest stakes of
my life—and that is saying not a little, as you
lmow.” ,

“ You will win," confidently commented Belle.

“ Either that, or lose—my life 1” with a repetition
of the ugly laugh. " Come, girl, bring me a. bottle
of brandy.”

“ Do you mean it, Saint? You are not throwing
up your hand at this stage of the game? You‘re not
going to et drunk?"

" k ere. little one. I can trust you. My brain
is overloaded. and I must give it a little relaxation,
or it will take it—b giving way entirely. Bring me
the brandy. I co (1 drink a barrel without affect-
ing my brain the least! Or, if it should, there are
your drugs; you can concoct a dose to set me on my
pins again, easy enough. The brandy—fetch it!"

In silence the woman obeyed him, placing two
bottles on the little table, with a pair of glasses.

“I will join you, Saint. don't often feel that
way, but somehow I do this evening. Maybe it; is
the sight of that girl—who knows?" with a short,
hard laugh.

The gambler knocked Off the head of a bottle with
a single swift stroke of the edge of his hand, then
filled the glasses with a hand that visibly trembled.
As he set the bottle down he again held up his
hand. looking at it curiously, as though the sight
was a strange one to his eyes.

“You see, little girl. it was full time for me to
loosen the strain. I never saw that before. I
thought I was proof —and so I will be when this
game is layed out. Tire girl? Oh, you mean Miss
Marjean velman! “That of her?"

“ A strange name, Saint—a stranger face! She
has a history, that woman, or my art fails me for
the first time."

“ What makes you ha on her, all the time .9”
with a suspicious scowl, as e drank again. “ You‘re
not jealous?"

“ What good would it do me, if I were?" she
asked, her dark brows corrugating, a reddish light
coming into her black eyes. “What right have I to
be? You are free enough. though I am bound.
Your only master is your will. If you have grown
tired of me, it is onl what I knew would happen as
the days crept on. ‘11 do on justice. You did not
try to deceive me. I saw he whole trail before me
before I took the first step. And I could see the end
of the trail, too. I knew it could come to no differ-
ent ending, but I cared little then. It would be a
long time, and my life-trail might end first—”

“ Enough of that!” sharply. rudely muttered the
gambler, thumping his glass upon the table. “ You
are making a mountain out of a mole-hill. Come—I
will make a clean breast of it to on, and then you
will see how widely you are mista em. I must do it!
I must relieve my brain, or it will fail me just when
I need it the most!”

“You know you can trust me, Saint,” softly ut-
tered the woman, the long lashes shading her lus-
trous eyes. “I don’t ask it; I have never tried to

ry into any of our secrets; but I have often wished
{hat you coul bring yourself to trust me. Not
through idle curiosit , but because I felt that I could
help you win, even i I am only a woman.”

“I never needed your help before, but I may now.
Anyhow, it will be a relief to talk, to lay bare my

lens and show you the cards I hold. You are in-
?erested in them, too, for if I win the game, you
sha‘n't be aloser, old girl."

For a brief 5 ace St. Clair Guthrie sat in silence,
staring at the lank wall opposite, see-min 1y having
forgotten the intention just declared. T e woman
watched him keenly, covertly, her dark eyes glitter-
ing vividly.

‘ That girl,“ he said, suddenly. refilling his lass
and draining it. “ Be ver careful of her. Sie is
worth her weight in gold- iterally, not figuratively
s eaking. There‘s no one to look after her, now,
3 nce the old gentleman‘s turned toes up, and I mean
to marry her myself."

“ And me?" asked Belle, the uestion coming with
a little catch in her breath. “ f course I am to say
good—b ?"

“Not if I can persuade you different, little one.
You shall remain just what you are now, until I can
get her pro erty safe under in control. Then there
will be a uneral, and we wil head the mourners,
you and I."

“ And after that?”

“ Just as you say. I will marry you the day you
set, if that will suit you. We Will take our gains,
and levant for some healthier clime. I‘ll retire—
sink my identity as St. (‘lair Guthrie—give the paste-
boards the o-by, and settle down to enjoy life with
you. How goes that strike you, eh r”

“ Like a glimpse of heaven !" she murmured. bow-
ing her face upon her trembling hands, but only for
a moment. “ That will never come to pass, I‘m
afraid, Saint l"

“ With your help it will, my girl.” he laughed, his
face flushed his eyes shining. “I tell you it can’t

ossibly fail, and to prove it to your satisfaction,

isten:

“ You know how I have been fighting Dan Brown
——hell‘s blackcst curses cover him from head to foot,
now and forever! Fighting him from under cover,
because it did not suit my plans to show my hand in
the work. But you don‘t know why I did It‘lVllCLt
bitter cause I had to hate him and sock his ruin first,
his heart's blood when there was nothing more to
gain by letting him live.”

“ No,” was the. (llllt'b response. “ You are not the
man to face your cards before the game is fairly
Wall or lost. I am not a woman to pry into what is
none of my business. So I waited, knowing that
you would remember me if ever the time came when
you needed my aid.”

St. Clair Guthrie, with the subtle fumes of the
strong liquor beginning to circle through his brain,
gazed curiously into the face of the woman as she

spoke.

tion occurred to er.

showing.

whom he had just completed an alliance.

out, and we will divide the sta s equally.”
‘_‘ Say share them together, Saint.
qui
LS

which he crowed loud enough, little thinking that it

the stroke has been delayed.
matter; it would make the story too long, and I am

tition, even if there was anything to be gained by it.

limit was reached. he raked the pot. My father and
brother were in the game, and through that demon
they lost their last stake. Harry was dropped in his
tracks as he went in to get even, but my father
was t en prisoner, though shot all to pieces. He
was strung up, after what they called a trial, but he
died game. He was old, his head was white as

to breathe above a whis er. but even on the gallows
they could not-conquer im. When they bade him
pray, he laid his. curse upon Dan Brown, and left a
egacy to me—bidding me avenge his death and the
death of his son Harry.

“It was nearly a year before the word came to
me, for vaas far away, working anoth r lead, then,
but I buried his legacy in my heart, an set out to
find Dan Brown.

“ I found him at last and though I did not forget
the vow I had taken, I eld m hand for the moment,
for I saw that I could do dou 1e duty by waiting. I
could have killed him, time and again, but I had
brooded over the death of my kindred for so long that
a simple death would not satisfy me. I wanted to find
out the soft spots in his heart, and strike him where
he would feel it the most acutely, before dealing the
finishing stroke."

His voice grew hissing, the great veins started out
on his tem les, his face flushed hotly, and he seemed
choking. e poured out another glass Of brandy,
then gulped down the powerful liquor.

He turned abruptly toward the woman, who was
leaning far over the table, listening eagerly, her dark
eyes fairly blazing and her breath suspended. He
stared at er fixedly for a moment, a growing sus )i-
cion in his eyes. Though he had no excuse or
doubting her perfect fidelity. the troubled life he had
lefdlfrom early youth rendered him distrustful even
0 1er.

.-‘ Never mind that,” he muttered, doggedly.
“That part of the game don’t: concern you at a .
The gir is the oint.”

“ I will do a 1 that lies in my power. You should
know ,whether you can trust me or not, by this
iine.‘

“ I trust nobody further than m arm can reach !”
doggedly. “ I wil trust you that ar. but if you try
to p ay me false, even in thought, I will detect it and
strike you to the heart, though you were twice what
you have been to me !”

“ I‘ll take the chances, Saint," quietly. “I know
you will never strike me without good cause, and
that I’ll never give you. You are all I have left,
now. That should answer you.”

“ Don’t look so internally eager, then I” he growled.
“ Your eyes went right through me. Keep them
down. They mix me all up, and tangle my brain."

Slag] did as he bade, and he resumed, speaking
rapi y:

“ It don’t matter how I learned what business
brought old Ovelman here; enough that I found it
out, and that he had more than fifty thousand dol-
lars with him. That was big enough to send me af-
ter it, anyhow, but the knowledge that it was in-
tended to buy the Jealous Girl from Dan Brown
made me still more determined to rake the pot my

self.

“ Old Gordon performed his part of the scheme to
perfection. From his hiding-place, he overheard
the talk between Dan Brown and Ovelman, and
hastened to report to me. I salted the information
down, for future use in case of need, then sent him
back to his work. He was not to lose a single move
ilp the game, made by the old gentleman, nor did

e t

An exclamation from the woman cut him short at
this1 juncture. Her face was a shade paler as she
sari :

“Yet you let that money slip between your fin-
gers! ‘

With a short, hard laugh, the gambler took a
package from his breast and tossed it on the table.

“ Open that and count it. The, bills are large, so
it won’t take you long to do it.”

With a white face and trembling fingers the wo-
man obeyed.

“ Fifty thousand dollars! But—I thou ht that—”

“ That Dan Brown got ahead of me?" e laughed.
“ So a good many others think, and I‘m not overly
anxious to disabuse their minds. DarrBrown killed
the old gentleman, of course! But there’s the cash.
Take good care of it, girl, and it shall be your wed-
ding present—when Miss lllarjean that is—Mrs. St.
Clair Guthrie that will be—kindly shuffles off this
mortal coil and makes room for a successor.”

The woman wrapped up the package of bills
again, and held them with both hands as she leaned
carelessly over the table.

“ That was part of your plan, from the first?"

" About marrying this girl? No—the norion never
entered in head until this night—but I’ll tell you
the whole usiness, or you’ll be giving way to your
old jealousy.

“You know what happened last night? I mean
about those fellows who called themselves Nor"
\Vest Nick. One of them was a tool of mine; the
others I never met before. Of course one of them
must be a fraud, but the man that killed the three
cowboys, I believe is the pure quill. If so, he means
mischief and I laid a plan to put him out of the way
for good and all.

“ It happens that we are very much alike, in size,
shape and features—but you know that, for you saw
him to—day. ,

“ I made what few alterations were. necessary in
my make-up, and aided by our good friend and sp ,
the colonel, su rised Miss Marjean in her room. t
would take too ong to tell you all I said and did.
Enough that I made her believe I was the fellow
whom she called Kyrle Daudo, which was not hard,
after being told the whole storv by Gordon, as he
overheard it. I told her that I planned the death of
her father; that I was Captain Slyboots; that I was
going to torture her and all that, and was just about
giving the signal which would lead my man under
the window to raise an alarm, when I would take to
my heels and leave her to accuse Nor‘ West Nick
with the crimes which I, as Nor’ West Nick, had con-
fessed, wnen she discovered the cheat, by a lacking
mark, or scar, or something of the sort. which the
original possessed and my cake was dough!

“I did some quick thinking, then, and the result
you see. I'knew she would denounce me, if she got
the chance. Suspicion would be turned on me, so I
brought her here, and your suspicions first gave me
the idea of marryin her, for the wealth which I
know belonged to Art ur Ovelman, her father.”

“ You acted for the best, and I will do what I can
to aid you. My knowledge of drugs will come into

00d pla . That part of it don’t bother me at all.
Iiut it will be risky. You will have both Dan Brown
and Nor‘ West Nick to figlhet."

“ Nor' West Nick will ready to lead a funeral
procession when the sun comes up. Dan Brown will
come back to his death; but come he will, after re-
venge for the trick—"

“ What trick? You haven‘t told me what you did.”

The hand of the gambler shot out and caught her
throat, while a knife. gleamed viciously in his hand
as he hissed:

“ What is that to you? Take care! Don‘t ask too
many questions, or show such anxiety on his ac-
count, or I‘ll believe you’re his ally, not mine I"

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
ran WRONG TRUMP TURNED.

“S'ranrn!” cried the woman, her dark eyes flash-
ing luridly as she unflinchineg encountered the
gaze of the gambler. “ Strike—and kill the best and
truest friend you have in the world l”

Had she struggled ever so slightly to free herself.
had she winced beneath that fierce grip, or showed
the slightest trace of fear, her fate would sure]
have been sealed, then and there. The liquor-ma -
dened gambler would have struck, swift and sure.
His overtasked brain was boiling over with insane
suspicions. The breathless interest which the
woman betrayed in the story he was telling in such
a roundabout fashion seemed to him an evidence
of her faithlessness. He felt that she was trying to
probe all his most dangerous secrets to the bottom,
only to turn around and sell him to his bitter
enemies. But the utter fearlessness which she ex-
hibited, even while his knife- oint rested upon her
bosom, needing only a straig rtening of his nervous
arm to send the polished steel home to her heart,
(lisarrncd him far more surely and quickly than the
most eloquent pleading and protestations.

The, rigid muscles relaxed, the Wen. )Oll dropped
Black upon the table, and a half-vacant laugh parted

s I )S.

“ Glood girl, Belle! I wamnly trying your nerve,
to See if it was all you boasted. I am satisfied, now.
You‘re pure quill! Not a man in all Rocky Bar
would have. stood the test without turning a hair,

 

but you did !”

_ He he an to realize that there was far more
in her than be 'ad ever suspected; that she was one
who might easrl ' become dangerous, if such a no-

But the black eyes met his gaze unfiinchingly. In
their depths he could read naught save fidelity and
devotion to him, such as few women are capable of 1 here now?” sharply, almost savagely uttered the

“I have been blind as a bat for not recognizing
your full merit before this, my girl,” he said, reach-
ing across the table and clasping her hand, much as
he would have shaken that of a trusted man with
“ It is not-
too late, yet. You shall help me play this hand

e

That is better,”

etl .
AiIrightl Share it is, then. But I was saying—
“Years ago, Dan Brown dealt rue a blow over

sealed his own death, none the less surely because
The full details do not

not level-headed enough tonight to bear the repe-

"It was up in Wyoming. Dan Brown played a
double hand. He stocked the cards, and when the

“You were foolish to doubt me, even for a mo-
ment, Saint,” was the quiet comment. “ Not a liv-
ing soul has any claim on me, save you. That alone
should satisfy you that there is nothing to be feared
from treachery on my part."

“ Don’t I know that? If I didn’t, would you be

gambler. “ Let it drop. I was only trying your
nerve, I say, and if 1 am satisfied, you should be.”

“ I am, Saint,” soothin ly replied the woman, for
she saw that the unusua. quantity of strong liquor
which he had swallowed was affecting his brain more
and more. “ Whatever you think best, is right.”

St. Clair Guthrie poured out another drink and
insisted on the woman’s joining him as he drank
bitter confusion to all their enemies. This was a
new phase in his character, to her, for never before
had she seen him the worse for liquor, much less so
nearly drunk as now, but Belle was shrewd and
keen-witted, and readil fell in with his humor.
They drank the toast, t en the gambler, forgetting
his short-lived suspicions, spoke more freely than
before.

“ I never forgot the words m father spoke when
the rope was closing around is throat. I swore
that I would perform the duty which he left me, and,
for that reason, I hired a man to come here and et
him into a wager that he would capture Captain y-
boots and break up his gang of Anti Monopolists. I
meant toset a tra for him with that bait, but the
word which Old ordon brought me, changed my

lans. I saw how I could make a double stroke, and
set the wires to working. Everythin went exactly
as I wished, and I was not sorry that had made a

snow, he had scarcely blood enough left in his veins failure of it last night—”

“ Then it was you who fired that shot at Dan
Brown? I felt pretty confident of that, though it is
not like you to miss a target of that size.”

“The moonlight deceived me, and I overshot a
trifle. But I‘m glad now that 1 did. It would be too
easy a death for the devil—he shall stretch hemp,
just as he was the prime cause of my father‘s doing
——and as he chokes I will hiss into his ears the bitter
truth! I‘ll tell him who trailed him down to death,
and what for—”

“ When he can still comprehend, but too late for
his lips to repeat—make sure of that, Saint! You
have two lives now— your own and mine!"

“ Did you ever know me to bungle a job which I
undertook? Be sure I won’t this one—the biggest,
heaviest one of my life! But hold your tongue—
you throw me off the track, and I want to talk
straight. It relieves my brain. I‘ve kept it in so
long, thought it all over so many times, that it’s
swelling too big for one head to contain. It‘s all
sglid enqugh, but somehow it makes a powerful lot
0 as— ’

e checked himself abruptly, laring with drunken
suspicion into the darkly beauti ul face before him.
He seemed dimly conscious that he was makin a
fool of himself, that he was talking wildly, inco 1e-
rently, and, with a powerful effort, be dissipated the
mists which confused his brain.

“ Old Gordon gave me the clews to work on," he
said more deliberately, more coherently, “ and I
lost little time. I told Tim Toplift the part he was
to play, and he did it well—too well, I began to
think, for his comin put a stop to the row which
would have remove that cursed Nor‘ West Nick,
without giving us any more trouble. I was out of
town, or that stroke engineered by old Ovelman
might have anned out better. But it don’t matter.
The end wil be the same, after all.

“Got u as it was, on the spur of the moment, I
am rou of that plan—prouder, still, of the manner
in w ich it was carried out. I don’t often boast, but
I’m entitled to, now.

“ One whispered word to Turley was enough and
he started for the Jealous Girl, giving Nor’ West
Nick a taste of his knife as he passed. He saw Top-
lift, and arranged for the attack. It was made-—
two fools who had begun to suspect the honest Tim,
were laid out for a double funeral. and a double
purpose: to make the afi'air seem more like the

ure quill, and guard against their talking too loud

or the health of their foreman.

“Toplift—bold fellowl—ran the terrible gantlet,

and carried the news to Dan Brown. That gentle-
man fell headlong into the trap, and when they were
before the ambush laid by Turley. Tim ta ed the
man from Denver on the head. and tumbleghim out
of the saddle. The boys took him in charge, and
lugged him up into the hills, where they trussed him
to a tree, with his eyes blindfolded.
“They followed my orders to the very letter,
though Turley, grim old wolf, acknowledged that it
went sorely against the grain to have the blood-
hound in their ower. and yet leave him alive, un-
hurt, save fort e lump on his head where To lift
keeled him over. But Captain Slyboots had spo en,
and they dare not cross his will!’

He ceased s aking, and his head began to droop.
The powerfu liquor, so freely swallowed, was be-
ginning to have its revenge. Belle moved uneasily,
as though anxious to hear more, but the hint
was unheeded. and regardless of what had hap-

ned only a few minutes before, she said:

“Surely the did not turn him loose? A merci~
less tiger like an Brown! ~And after treating him
so roughly !"

“ Yes, and no!" laughed the drunken gambler.
“They kept him prisoner, yet they set him free.
There’s an enigma for you, old girl! Think you can
solve it?"

The woman slowly shook her head.

“ You’re too deep for me, Saint. I know you sel-
dom make a mistake in your play, but it looks to
me as though you had thrown away a chance this
time. A blood ound like Dan Brown should have
been muzzlcd thoroughly when you had him foul."

“That‘s what your common players would have
done.” he said. with a laugh that was truly satanic,
so full was it of a devilish malignancy and diabolical
cunning. “But I struck out a line of play to suit
myself. I had the cards stocked. I knew just how
they would run through the entire deal, and when
the show-down comes, you’ll see that I was putting
my money on a sure thing.”

2‘ I hope so, I’m sure, Saint. Brit Dan Brown is a
hard man to buck against. He plays a bold hand,
and makes his cards count for all they are worth.
It gives me the cold shivers whenever I think of him
being set free, after seeing so much of the game we
ar~ pla ing. You may be right, but I‘d feel a heap
saferi you had kept him in the hole while he was
there," said lfelle, with a shiver. '

“That's because you've seen only a few of my
cards. Wait until I give ou 9. ep at the rest;
then you‘ll say that I‘m p aying t em for all that’s
out, and must rake the pot.

“As I said, Brown was kept blindfolded and his
ears were of no more service to him than is eyes,
for the boys twisted their tongues until they couldn’t
recognize their own voices when they gave tongue.
I can swear to that, forI was with them, from the
start, to make sure there was no mistake.

“ I gave Turley his orders, then took Toplift and
left, to carry out the rest of my plans. I gave him
a note to Arthur .Ovelman, written as nearly like
Dan Brown’s fist as I could manage it, and sent him
to town. You know how he played his part, and
brought the old man back With him to the shanty,
where I was all ready to lay the art of Dan
Brown—easy enough to do, t anks to t e interior of
the cabin‘s being so dark, there under the shadow
of the mountain.

" It was a nasty job, that I’ll admit, but the stakes
were too big to be lost for a silly scruple, and I
wiped him out. Not for the money alone, though
that was enough to buy a score of lives, each one
more valuable than that of the old speculator. His
death should be avenged —on Dan Brown .I

“ I secured the stamps, then fixed u Tim Toplift,
so the stor he was to tell would go own with the
crowd. I idn't use a pistol, for fear of accidents,
but made a neat counterfeit wound with my knife
and a bit of wire. It was hard on Tim, but the fel-
low showed good grit, and kept thinking of the gold
which would salve over his hurts.

“Then it came time for Wilkins to lay a card,
which he had been leading up to all day ong, and he
did it so well that the two fellows who were with
him never once suspected that the tragedy was a
farce, so far as he was concerned. They rought
poor, honest, abused Tim to town, and the admirable
manner in which the rascal played his part, almost
brought tears to my eyes—bis reluctance to inform
on the man whom he loved better than abrother,
even after being so shamefully betrayed—was better
than a circus!"

The gambler paused to laugh, admiration for the

erfect manner in which his truly satanic schemes
had been carried out in every detail, overpowering
the fumes of the brandy, until his eyes shone with
their accustomed brilliancy, and all trace of drunk-
enness vanished as if by magic.

“ Now I begin to see the end!" exclaimed Belle
the admiration in her face and tones beln tinge
with something like awe as she looked into t e face
of the master-plotter. “ I never met a man who
could have planned all that, and carried it out, too,
in so short a time, save you, Saint!"

“ I‘m not ashamed of it myself ” he admitted,
frankly. “ It seems terribly tangled up, at first
glance, but as you study it closer, you see ow neatly
every item dovetails into the others. And when the
key-pin is shoved into place,l defy any one to de-
tect crack or flaw, thou h they use a microscope!"

“That key-pinis Dan rowu, of course?” ventured
Belle.

“ Yes. he has his little part to speak, when the cur-
tain will descend to red fircand slow music," laughed
the cxultunt gambler. “ You can imagine the tab-
leau—Dan Brown of Denver‘s first and last appear-
ance, in his remarkable feat of dancing a jig in mid-
air!‘

“ If he comes back,” cautiously ventured Belle.
“ He may scent danger in the air, and travel in the
other direction.“

“I thought of that, and have guarded against it.
If he turns his face in any other direction than Rock
Bar, he will be tak n prisoner by those whom 1 1e t
to watch him from under cover, and brought here to
answer for the murder of Arthur Ovelman. But

 

 

 

 

 

there is little danger of that. He will be so wrought
mil by the indignities put upon him by the boys, that
w en he finds his hands at liberty, he will hasten
here to get. even with them and me. That will be
about dayhglit, if Turley was careful in carrying
out my instructions.

"They were to watch him until I sent word that
the rest of the game had been played exactly as it
was planned. Then they were to tie a piece of safe-
ty fuse, carefully calculated, around the cords which
held his hands, and setting this afire, all but two of
them were to hasten here and tell me that all was
working as I ordered.

“ Those two were to watch Dan Brown. When the
fuse burned his hands free. and he unfastened his
feet, if he struck out for Rocky Bar, they were to
dog him without molestation, only giving the alarm
when he was fairly in the trap. If not—if he struck
out for fresh and safer pastures, they were to corral
him and tote him in."

“It is growing late— morning will be here soon-

et you are here drinking!” said Belle, her face pal-
ing, her eyes glittering more vividly than ever.
“Are you mad, Saint? When the biggest game of

our life is almost won, will you lose it for a little

randy? The stuff which I have often heard you say
was the gambler’s curse?”

“It is proving my blessing, now ” muttered St.
Clair Gut irie, ouring out another glass and drink-
ing it off. “ nly for it,I believe my brain would
have given way. It is easier now. That infernal
jumping is quieted. I feel as though I could go to
sleep and waken in my old senses."

"' But Dan Brown—the man you swore to bring to
the gallows!” hissed Belle, gi'as ing his arm and
shaking him violently as his hea began to droop,
his eyes to close. “He may be coming into town
this ver nroment—-”

“ Let im come!" drawled the gambler. stretching
himself, with a drunken yawn. “He will find he is
expected.”

“ You have arranged for his capture, then?”

“Of course! Do you take me for an idiot?” he
growled.

“Pardon me, Saint,” was the meek response.
“It would not be strange if you had forgotten or
overlooked a single oint in a game as heavy and
complicated as this. member that I sink or swim
with you—let that be my excuse for speaking."

“That’s all right—drop it now. One thing—you
brag of your skill with drugs. Can you give me
something that will make me sleep like a log, for
two or three hours? I must have some rest, but I
must be afoot when Dan Brown pulls hemp. If
you can do that, give me a dose. If not, (louse me
with cold water the moment day begins to break.
You understand ‘3"

“ I can do what you ask, Saint,” smilineg replied
the woman, rising and touching her warm lips to
his brow. “I will prepare the medicine, and then
will watch over you until it is time to awaken you.”

“All right—hurry up!” he muttered, his head
fighting upon his arms as they lay crossed upon the

a e.

“ Keep awake, dear; I’ll be back in a moment.”

There was no answer as she turned and glided
from the room, and though she speedily returned,
the ambler was in a heavy stupor, rather than
slum er.

“Placing the glass containing the compound on
the table, she raised his head and shook him into
semi—consciousness. Like a little child he swallowed
the draught, then hung heavily upon her arm.

For a moment she paused, at a loss what to do,
then she brought a blanket and pillow. placing them
on the floor. after which, with no little trouble, she
dragged him from his chair and straightened him
out comfortably, his hands crossed upon his chest.

How long he remained thus, the gambler never
knew, but at length he was awakened b a sense of
suffocation, and opening his e '68 he eheld—the
bruised and battered face, the uge, twisted mus-
taches and the glittering pig-eyes of Norton Weston
Nickerson. showing over the leveled barrel of
a cocked revolver! And the fat claimant squatted
on his stomach, while in a husky, unpleasant voice
he croaked:

“Lay still, ye cantankerous critter! Squirmin’
nur wigglin’ won’t save ye now! I‘ve got ye whar
the wool's mighty short, an’ nothin’ shorter then
grim death kin break my grip!”

(To be continued—commenced in N0. 16.)

 

 

Telephone Echoes.

SOME of the old railroad men are thinking of a pro-
cess to paralyze and petrify tramps, so that they can
be used as cross-ties.

Tan Rev. Dix, of New York, says that it alwa s
pleases him to see a house full of children. If e

ad to buy the grub and pay the doctor’s bills he’d
have to tie his lower jaw up with a string.

“WHY don’t you eat like you do at home?" said
the rural bridegroom to his bride at the table d’kofe,
as she nibbled this and tasted that in her embarrass-
ment; “ them folks over there don‘t pay no more‘n
we do, and you are a goose to be afraid.”

“EVERY carpenter who shaves with a fore-plane
borrows the genius of aforgotten inventor." Per-
haps he does: but when his fore-plane strikes a nail in
a pine board he borrows a suitable quotation from
profane history, which is not so much forgotten,
I‘hat’s the kind of a jack-plane the carpenter is.

“ SOME other folks would deceive you about these
goods, but I have been in the business twenty years
and never told a lie,” said the guileless dry-goods
clerk. “And why do you begin now?" said the
gentle fair one in front of the counter, as she
gathered her draperies together and glided away.

Miss Panzer: Cozzst is lecturin on " The Cor-
rection of Certain Mistaken Notions garding Eve.”
It appears that the story that Eve began to cry and
threatened to go home to her mother because Adam
refused to buy her a $300 sealskin sacque in the
earl days of their honeymoon, is a weak invention
of t e enemy.

“MINISTER,” said an old woman in the North of
Scotland, “I’m goin awa ' fast, and I’ll very soon
be in Judas’s bosom. ’ “ oots! toots! Janet," said
the minister, “ e mean Abraham’s bosom." “Ah!
minister, if ye ad been as long a single woman as
I‘ve been, ye wouldn‘t be at all particular whose
bosom it was I”

A YOUNG ph sician informed a pretty lady patient
who was su ering from chronic sore throat, that
the only sure cure for it was a beard. “ That’s of no
interest to me,” she replied. “ I’ve got no beard.”
“ True,” he replied, gallantly, “ but you can use
mine as often as you want to.” They were married
a few months later.

“MADAM,” he began, as be lifted his but at the
front door, “ I am soliciting for home charities. We
have hundreds of poor, ragged and vicious children
like those at your gate, and our object is—” “ Sir!
those are my own children!” she interrupted. and
the way tha front door slammed his toes jarred
every hair on his scalp-lock.

“WHAT would you do if you were I and I were
you?” tenderly inquired a young swell of his lady
friend, as be escorted her home from church.
“Well,” said she, “if I were you I would throw
away that vile cigarette, cut up my cane for fire-
wood, wear my watch-chain under my coat, and stay
at home nights and pray for brains I’

A GENTLEMAN gave a party in honor of a distin-
guished missionary lately returned from his field of
work. The ladies appeared in very decolleté dresses,
and as the host feared the style might shock his
reverence, he apologized to him for it saying that
fashion demanded it. “ Oh, i don’t mind it at all," rc—
plied the missionary. “ I have been ten years among
the savages."

A YOUNG lady in one of our rural districts was es-
corted home from an evening party not long since
by a young man to whom she was not articularly
partial. On taking leave he remarked, ‘ I guess I’ 1
come and see you ag’in next Sunday night.” “ Well,
Jim," replied the lady “you can come as a friend,
but not as a feller.” Report says that Jim did not
go either way.

“ DON‘T you think We ought to separate our hus-
bands?" said a lady to her friend. “ Do you not see
how excited they have become? The ' are beginning
to call each other ‘ ox ’ and ‘ ass,‘ an all sorts of dis-
agreeable tbings." “ Oh, no!” was the calm reply.
“ Let them go on; they have known each other for
more than wenty years and ought to know What
they are talking about.”

“CHARLES,” she said, as she leaned her classical
head upon his broad, stalwart shoulder, “ I have but
one request to make before our wedding." “Speak
out, dearest,” he answered, huskilv. “ What is it?"
“ I want a lock of your hair.” “Take it, darling,”
he cried, snatching off a brown, vinegar—colored wig
and forcing it into her hands. “ Take it. No one
shall ever say I refused an request from my future
wife involving an outlay 0 only $15."

“FATHER,” he suddenly remarked, as he looked
up into the parental face, “you are awfully good to
ma.” “Am I? Well, I hope I treat her as a husband
should a devoted wife." “ And it's allover the place
how liberal you are to her.” “How—what do you
mean?" “Why, I heard three or four men in the
’bus say that all you had iii the world was in her
name.” “Yes—ahem—yes—you go to bed, sir; and
the next time you hear people lying about me, don‘t
listen to what they say.’

THAT Tennessee local editor meant business when
he wrote: “ Isn’t it about time for the local author-
ities to sell the mule used to draw the town hearse
and buy a horse? Twice lately lli‘ has balked and
detained processions on bitterly cold days for over
an hour, and only last week he kicked in the front of
the vehicle and seriously damaged the corpse. Peo-
ple are beginning to get enough of this sort of thing,
and if the authorities don’t take proper action a citi‘
zens’ meeting will be called."

 

Pnrular Prems.

--»oo—-~~» V
THE (‘IRUICL FATI‘EI‘.

When charming Christine Nilsson sun;
In our aesthetic town.
And all our local country rung
With praise to her renown,
A gentle. comely maid we knew
Made loud and numerous ace——
The fair Cairrclia Brown.

“ I want to hear Miss Nilsson sing,”
To her papa said she.
" And so tonight I pray you bring
A bonnet home for me:
For how the other girls would st- 
If I should show the old one the; s —
I hate the horrid thing!"

But he with pur use to deride,
And give his 0 iild the bluff——
“ I'll buy no bonnets new !" he cried,
“ The old one‘s good enough!"
Then fair Camelia hung her head,
And not. another word she said --
She simply gasped and died.
—D€I:'oer T/a'br/nw.

 

 

202

\VHO IS LOVE?

 

BY JOA QCIN MILLER.

 

Why. Love. my love is a dragon-fly
That weaves by the beautiful river,
IVhere waters flow warm. where willows dr cop by,
\Vhere lilies dip waveward and quiver,
Where stars of Heaven they shine for aye,
If on take not hold of that dragon—fly,
y the musical. mystical river.

Let Love 0 his ways: let the lilies grow
By tliatIJeautiful, silvery river;
Let tall tulips nod; let noisy reeds blow;
Let the lilies’ lips open and quiver;
But when Love may come. or when LOVt may go.
You nfiay guess and may guess; but you l.t'\'t‘l‘ shall
'now,
While the silver stars ride on that river.

But this you may know: if you clasp Levy‘s wings,
And you hold him hard by that river,

Why, his eyes grow green, and he turns and he

stings.

And the waters wax ic and shiver;

The waters wax chill an the silvery wings

Of Love they are broken, as broken heart-strings,
While darkness comes down on that river.

 

 

202

BURIAL AT SEA .

 

BY NATHANIEL K. CARTER.

From his room to the deck they brought him,
dressed

For his funeral rites, at his Own request

With his boots and gloves and garments on,

And naught but the breatliin spiri: gone:

For he Wished that a child might come and lay

An unstartled hand upon his clay.

Then they wrapped his corse in the tarry sheet,
To the dead as Araby’s spices sweet.

And prepared him to see ' the depths below,
Where waves never beat nor tempests blow.

No steeds with their nodding plumes were there,
No sabled hearse and no cofi‘ined bier,

To bear with omp and parade away

The dead to s eep with his kindred clay;

But the little group. a silent few,

His comrades mixed with the hardy crew,
Stood thoughtful around till a prayer was said
O’er the corse of the deaf, unconscious dead.

Then they bore his remains to the vessel’s side,
And committed them safe to the dark blue tide.
One sudden plunge, and the scene is o‘er;

The sea rolled on as it rolled before.

In that classical sea whose azure vies
With the green of its shores and the blue of its skies,
In some pearly cave, in some coral cell.
Oh, the dead shall sleep as sweetly and well,
As if shrined in the pomp of Parian tombs,
Where the East and the South breathe their rich
perfumes. -
Nor forgotten shall be the humblest one,
Though he sleep in the watery waste alone,
When the trump of the angel sounds with dread,
And the sea with the earth gives up its dead.
—N. Y. Observer.

———:o:—-—-

A VOICE FBOIVI THE FARIVI

 

BY EDMUND LYONS.

“ You say that my life is a round of toil?"
The stalwart farmer said.
“ That I scarce can wrest from the oft-tilled soil
My pittance of daily bread?
Well, what you tell me in part is true.
I am seldom an idle man,
But I value the blessing of rest, as you,
Who have much of it, never can.

“ And surely, I never have worked in vain,

From the spring to the golden fall;

The harvest has ever brought waving grain,
Enough and to spare for all.

And when in the evening, freed from care,
I see at m farm-house door

My wife ant little ones waiting there,
Oh, what has the millionaire more?

“ My children may never have boarded wealth;

Their lives may at times be rough;

But if in their homes they have love and health,
They will find these riches enough.

The only land they will ever own
Is the land that the strong right arm

And the )atient, fearless heart alone
Can till to a fertile farm.

“ I have nothing beyond In simple wants

And a little for cloudy ays;

But no grim specter my homestead haunts,
Such as silver and gold might raise.

Around me are eyes that with sparkling mirth
Or with placid contentment shine——

And no wealth-clogged lord upon all the earth
Has a lot more blessed than mine.

" Oh. yes, I’m laborin all day long,

With the mind an the muscle, too;

But I thank the Lord. who has made me strong,
And given me work to do.

For what. indeed. is the idle drone
But a vampire on the land,

Reaping fruit that by others was sown,
And not by his own right hand ‘2"

—N. Y. Clipper.

 

202

 

LOST TOMMY.

 

Pray have you seen our Tommy?
He‘s the cutest little fellow,

With checks as round as apples,
And hair the softest yellow;

You see ’twas quite a while ago—
An hour or two, perhapsr—

When grandma sent him off to biiy
A pound of ginger snaps.

We have traced him to the baker‘s
And part way back again;

\Ve fouan a little paper sack
Lying empty in the lane.

But Tommy and the ginger snaps
Are missrng totally;

I hope they both wi l reappear ,
In time enough for tea.

We have climbed up the garret,
And scoured the cellar through;
We have. ransacked every closet,
And the barn and orchard, too.
“70 have hunted through the kitchen,
And the pantry! Oh, of course—A
We have screamed and shouted “ Tommy!"
Until we‘re fairly hoarse

Poor mamma goes distracted,
And pretty auntie May

Is sure the darling cherub
Has somehow lost his way.

“'ell, well, I’ll give another look
Into the nursery;

I hardly think the little rogue
Cari hide away from 1110.

Ah, here‘s the laundry basket,
Within I'll take a peep.

Why, what‘s this curled up so tight?
’Tis Tommy. fast asleep.

Oh, innnnna. auntie, grandma,
Come and see the fun.

“ Tommy. where‘s the ringer snaps?"

“ Eaten—cw. ry one i"

“ Bless my heart!“ laughs ann‘ 'e:

“ Drar, dear, I shall collap c:

Where could he stow UK In all awr y?
A pound of ginger Friars!”

But mamma falls to kissing,
Forgetting fright nurl toil,

While. grandma. bustlcs out to fetch
A dose of castoruofl. ~57. Pair? P, ($3.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

 

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'"llwulllrlllri‘lllil mm 1

 

g inhumn-rwu-rmr llu .,

 

inhmwnuuu.

  
 
 

 

 

Published every Monday morning at nine oclook.

void of all politeness.

 

NEW YORK, MAY 5, 1883.

why; thus—to an informal invitation to
theater-party:

 

BEADLE’s WEEKLY is sold by all Newsdealers in

following rates:

Terms to Subscribers, Postage Prepaid:

One copy, four months. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1.00.
“ ‘ one year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 8.00.
Two copies, one year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 0.00.

In all orders for subscriptions be careful to give

“ MY DEAR MISS GRAY:—

friend,
Or to a formal invitation:

subscription. Subscriptions can start with any late Wednesday, the 17th inst, at seven o’clock."

number. ,

TAKE NOTICE—In sending money for subscription,
by mail, never inclose the currency except 1n_a. re‘

istered letter. A Post Office Money Order is the
best form of a remittance. Losses by_mail Will be
almost surely avoided if these directions are fol-
lowed.

WA“ communications, subscri trons, and let-
ters on business should be addresse to

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM ST.. NEW YORK.

 

 

Take Notice.

 

Serials appearing in this WEEKLY will not ‘

be republished in Library or book form. Back
numbers can be supplied by any newsdealer, or
sent by mail, prepaid, from the publishers.

 

A GREAT SERIAL !

IN WHICH

Wild Bill is the Hero.

A Romance of Real Life

IN WHICH

Many Celebrities of the West

Are Participants.
IN AND AROUND

A Frontier Post of the Black Hills

The Scenes are Laid

During the “ Gold Fever 9’ Times.

 

A Powerful Drama.
A Brilliant and Powerful Story.

Wilt Command All Attention.

Starts in JVO. £98.

 

The Wide flake Papers.

The Ethics and Etiquette of Letter-
writing.

ALREADY I have said that the penmansbip is
the least important part of letter-writing. So
long as the chirography is perfectly legible it is
all that need be desired. On the other hand,
correct spelling, proper use of capital letters and
punctuation-marks, and grammatical construc-
tion, are very important factors in the art of
letter-writing. Even the school-boy, however,
can easily master these points. If short and di-
rect sentences are used it will be far easier to
write a perfectly grammatical note or letter,
than when long an involved sentences are at-
tempted. Neatness is another important con-
sideration in letter-writing. The writer should
have clean hands and use clean paper, and avoid
all blots, smudges, and erasures. If a word is
wrong draw a straight line horizontally through
it—not too dark a line—and proceed. Try to
have your writing free from flourishes or dark
dots, avoid postscripts, put the stamp on neatly in
one corner of the envelope, and see that the let-
ter is unsoiled and unrumpled when it is osted.

There is nothing so elegant and refine in the
way of writing-paper, as a 00d, heavy quality
of white note. People of t 8 best taste, espe-
cially gentlemen, alwa 5 use a handsome white
paper and plain enve ope, leaving fancy vari-
eties to the vulgar and the young. The circum-
stances must be very exceptional that can be
accepted as an excuse for not writing a note
with ink: while to use half sheets of paper is not
only careless but mean, and a great discourtesy;
and let me repeat, once more, for the benefit of
very young men, that paper and envelopes hear-
ing a firm or company name and address should
be used solely for business letters and not for
friendly, formal, or personal ones. Plain com-
mercial note is preferable to any business paper
or fancy paper. Thin French paper may be
used for extremely long letters, or letters to be
sent to foreign countries.

Business letters, like business calls, should be
brief, courteous, but clear, and to the point.
Letters of condolence or congratulation should
be short but very kindly worded. Letters of
introduction should be still more brief—simply
stating the name and full address of the person
introduced, and intimating that you believe the
acquaintance will give mutual pleasure—and
should never be given to a person you do not
know well, nor sent to any but equally well-
known friends. Letters of acceptance should
be as formal or as informal as was the invita—
tion. An extremely formal letter, u on busi-
ness, which you commence “Ma am,” or
“ Dear Sir,” should have the name of the person
addressed written at the close of the letter, in
the left‘hand Corner. This is the only kind of
letter where the name of the person to whom
the letter is written should appear at its close;
and yet scores of young men are so foolish and
ignorant as to err in this. In any letter begin-
ning “My Dear Mrs. Black,” or “J. J. Jones,
Dear Sir,”——in other words, in any letter when
the name of the person addressed appears at
the commencement of the letter—the name
must not be repeated at its close.

To sign any kind of a letter, to any person,
“Yours, &c.,” or “ Yours, etc,” is exceedingly
rude. And to sign, “Yours truly,” or “ Truly
yours,” to any but a business letter, or a letter
to an entire stranger, is equally rude. Every
letter commencing with the name of the person
to whom it is written must have a more cordial,
or—if need be—formal signature. Use your full
name—as “John E Sayre ”—in signing all but
business letters and letters to servants or employ-
ees; in such cases use your initials—“ J. E.
Sayre.” Commence all letters to friends and re-
latives with their Christian names. Address let—
ters to gentlemen without a title thus: “John S.

now, Esq ,”or "J. S. Snow, Esq ”; to unmarried
ladies, thus: “Miss M. E, Smith,” or “Miss
Mary E. Smith”; to married ladies, thus: “ Mrs.
Charles S. Gray,” or “Mrs. C L. Black, Jr.”;
to widows, thus: “Mrs. E. E. More.” or “Mrs.
Eliza E. More.” If a. gentleman has a title, pre-
fix it to his name and omit the “Esq.” If a
lady has a title, prefix it to her name and omit
the “Mrs.” or “ Miss”: but never use the bus-
band’s title for his wife.

Letters should be answered as promptly as
possible. Notes asking a favor or a question
must be answered immediately. Invitations of

ters romptly.

surd. Imagine the person to whom you are wri

 

you have read, where you have been, what yo

you will interest your correspondent—and t

of your letter.

a dozen pages Where the e rt is evident that th
think of something to say next.
“ My DEAR AUNT:—

est- affection of your nephew,

ter in reply.

say, and to write exactly as one would talk.
Long letters should only be written to rela

carcfu Never address a youn

her express permission to drop all formality.

ally, to “
Mary‘n u My dear Miss Mary,” etc.

given him by his friend, BELLE BRIGHT.

“

The Owl Papers.

A Tallow Cam—die Rhapsody.

THRICE—HALLOWED light of other days, or
rather nights, which came with childhood and
left, taking childhood with them!
hade of ancient grease! It makes a bright
spot in the far-away fields of memory, that old
tallow candle! We have sat under the lordly
glare of chandeliers in the royal palaces
of the Old World and felt big, but We never
forgot the dim glim that soothed and smoothed
our youthful evenings. We have never allowed
it to be snuffed out of memory and associa-
tion.
It uSed to be the welcome light set in the win-
dow for us when wandering home late from
singing- school, parties, or, . perhaps, melon-
patches, when perhaps our atches caught it.
Stuck in the old-fashioned) candlestick, which
tons seemed a marvelous piece of mechanism
because it pushed the waning candle up with a
spring until the last inch of it was burned, we
learned to reverence it, and particulary because
if we ever tumbled downstairs with it, it never
exploded and set the house afire. The hired girl
never went up the fine in trying to make a fire
in the stove with it, nor did we have to fool
time away in trying to get 8. Iain -chimney on,
which was so ready to fall 011‘ at t 0 least move-
ment.
But allow us to draw a vail, or a circus
canvas, over the grease we spilled as We
carried the candle around the house: we also de-
sire to look on the brighter side of the central
chandelier—candlelier we might say—in the lit-
tle old church on the hill, of a dozen candle-
power, which, in flickering Winds on Sunday
nights, sent down rivulets of tallow or lard,
when broadcloth backs had something more on
them than sins.
To snuff the candle with our fingers and do it
successfully was an art we never fully learned;
we had a great knack of either burning our fin-
gers, snuffing the light out, or jerking the can-
dlo clear across the room, landing it, perhaps,
in somebody’s lap, or hitting some one across
the face with it. No, no, we were not “up to
snuff” in these old days or young evenings, and
the smut that was sure to get on our fingers
generally developed itself on our noses and
aces when we would forget to wipe our fingers
on our clothes!
It was more than we could do to engineer a
tallow candle even with an educated pair of
snuffers, for the light ceased to exist very easily,
and the contents Of the snuffers had a way of
falling out when we handled them, and getting
all over everything, while the little girls used to
use the snuffers on their aprons as scissors, and
you could see where the attempt was made by
the sooty marks.
What a light was the tallow candle to our
feet in the paths of education! How seductive
was its fitful glare as it not only drew us. but
all the gnats and moths which went to make a
warm summer night a menagerie of Natural
History, while the melted grease at the top of
the candle was th cker with bugs and things
than an ordinary railroad pie!
When the candle would run down at the heel
and a glacier of grease would form at the side
of it, it greatly interfered with its symmetry,
until it went dOwn in an avalanche that was
an embodied lesson in glacial action that gave
Agassiz all the ideas he ever had on the sub-
ject. but, alas! we didn’t appreciate it thenl
Vhat a splendid thing that tallow dip was to
grease our boots with! Far more practicable
than the modern kerosene-lamp which can only
oil your hands and make them smell—awful.
Whenever we would go to push up a short-
ened piece of candle, the spring in the candlebra
went up with a snap that would send the piece
up against the ceiling where it was sure to
stick, and then, of course, we would get the
stick, too.

 

all kinds should be answered upon the day they

 

 

 

 

 

The candle was not a success among the

“ I regret exceedingly that I cannot accept your
the United States and in the Canadian Dominion. tempting invitation for tomorrow night, owrng to, a
Parties unable to Obtain it from a neWSdPflleI‘. 0r slight illness which yet unfortunately makesa pris- it
those preferring to have tbsi paper sent [Eli5(*cé,tll)y oper ofdme. Isllloglill.ell:i]f9)’10f all thingsAlipcggi 
' ‘ ino ce,aresu )e a ie a an in sucr or u com any. _
mall, from the pubhcat 0 pl ads that the party mgy prove eiiiinently enjoyable almOSt ChOke you to death-
and believe me to be your grateful and regretful
‘ S. MORRIS COOKE.”

The true gentleman answers every invitation, nigh me with the smallest bit 0,, a . u
_ - piece of can— bag.

L10 mam" 1.? W1?” or “0% who“?be 508", is dle so I would not lie awake, reading too long

9 recelves 1 , no es as qulc y p0831 9; an e ' although I used to tell them that the li ht of a which anybody can
. . candle was so small it could not possib y burn

W en you attemptfio Write. a letter’ this "31° much of a hole in the night as my father used ever caught in Flo
should be kept preeminently 1n mind—to write to warn me from doin ’
exactly as if you were talking to the person to g'
whom you are writing. You cannot fail, then,
to write a letter that will please and interest.

ing is in the room With you, and then discuss in
your letter the very subjects you would discuss 0% was
with him or her if sittin face to facri; tell all the p ‘

bits of news; describe t 1e new peop e you have - . .
met, the things you have been doing, the books still able to flicker in many Western hotels.

. . . _ . . _ gathered up and used to lubricate the Skillets to
 an.    
which will interest—assuming that whatinterests also umlzed or a m as ’ or ave O ten

write short clear sentences; and do not give a - .

thought to What anybody is going 1E0 $3111le or say found nothmg worse therem'

no page of in y words,

promptly written in reptlly to a letter, is worth What we say derogatory to the poor old tallow
o

writer was all the time racking his brains to

“ Your kind letter I received, and enjoyed exceed-
ingly. Thanks for so kindly remembering me and
b‘izltlttdngrggynlgttei‘ 13:31 gag,21 $th Teddi? {gig 33%: Mountain collier , near Shenandoah, were first

' Toma. plulain opleratiotp 3st} weak, seven (18:8(31 and daz-
. - z e mu es w 1c or ve years a seen no
isle?“ltuifvénnttrfn§§§1%“33ef'$§.§§%$§22i§3 bngbterém’ninary than a Davy lantern turned
yourself to dash off that little loving acknowl- tall 12nd 2d,??? mettlest .Of as: Ifige-h Elie
edgment Of your aunt’s letter you would think wor “ten e m ereslng 3 Omega u. e a ‘ S
of several things You wanted to say about Your- Of 001“er mgles’ the” toughness‘ the" content'
self or to ask her, and that would make a let_ ment and their total deprav1ty. Several months

3 9

- - - St. Clair were flooded work was stopped and
5,133,233; eahcgt :Egcifsfugolggt;rzgglggslg :3 all the mules were hoisted to the surface. More

tives and dear friends, and no letter should have gotten that there was a wor m or grass and sun‘
the lines crossed_ dEvery fawlm aimntifg' or shine for when they were turned out to pasture
gift received shoul be prompt y ac now e ged I . .
by letter, Unless it was immediately acknowl- 3k;holehgggggbgggglggtggg 5,33; 3,153: flap;
edged verbally. A ttlrifle trio much fqirmality  b,in'ded by the

writing to other t an re atives an ver 0 . . . . . .
friends is preferable to too little. Especia ly in  ggigeglgvififgdbgggggggngggaggliginggi
wrmnf to young ladles Should gelligiffggrrge life, work was resumed in the mines, and they
Spondeht as it My dear Mary,” u“ ess you have went back to their old home in the darkness.
corresponded with her for a long time, and have

You may commence, “ Dear Miss Brown,” and
as your ac uaintance increases change, gradu-
Y dear MISS BI‘OWD.” “Dear MISS aristocratic dog thus:

And, now, I want to say, confidentially, that
if every other young man in the land remains a
rude and careless letter—writer, 1 shall expect
every Wide Awake reader to try to mend his
Ways'in this respect and do credit to the hints

are received, or—at latest—within three days young folks in our old section, in the matter of
after. The person who neglects to do this is de-
Young men often think

many a scolding by that slippery dodgel
You bet!

the scouts on the trai

outlaw.
I’Vhen I was sent up to bed they used to fur

If you blew that candle out on going to bed
would not be as sure death as when you treat
gas in a like manner, but the acrid smoke would

had time to think of doing
ames Smith’s kind invitation to dine with them on so, or before they had come m Slght 0f the Wary

Some of our greatest poets used to get their
inspiration from the llight of a tallow dip. It h D b
7 . seemed somehow to ubricate the lines and oft e car. uring t 6 rest of the trip the dis- letter to “his girl."
 gglg'gnlggf‘g'l‘}algeffiggigwgagotgg83$: rhymes so they would flow smoothly. I don’t conce'rted professor
letters are cold, stilted, uninteresting, and ab- know how they did "3' but when I used to try

courting, because you could not turn it down at the further end
like a lamp, and you could not blow it half out "do you have any
it smart not to notice invitations. It is not until it was a little bit of a blaze. It was boun
smartness, but boorishness. Write immediate- to shine or die, though they used to let the wic
ly, formally if the invitation was formally writ- go unsnuffed at such times; it answered for
ten, informally if the note was informal, saying shade, but it told theold folks, in the morning, ‘ . returned unless stamps are ,“ClosedJ
that you decline or accept. If you decline, say just how long we staid, the peSky thing! Happy Ida? Was it safe to go through the woods?
a was the courter who carried along in his pocket How big did snakes grow in this State? What
an extra candle. Oh, didn’t his gal escape sort of snakes are

d days?”

k And within five min
a ing questions from n

graciously the profe
soon had ‘betrayed

coat and drew out

The candle was rather a rough thing on it caught coachwhip,
youngster’s hair when he would bend over the ta—
ble and a novel, in desperate pursuit of Cross-
eyed Sam, or the Bloody Jayhawk of Murderer’s subject on the seat

“Mr. 8- Morris C001§e regrets that a PPeViOUS 911- Gulch, for he was ver apt to yell “Fire ” before drew out a number 0
gagement, to take Miss Bloom to the theater de- 1y

address in full—State, County and Town._ The pa- grives him of the pleasure of accepting Mr. and 
per is always stopped, promptly, at expiration of

“ Crawly,” they are

upon reptiles general] ,. .
just to illustrate a point he was elucidating, e voggétigggficggches’
et in the skirt of his ‘

an enormous and newly—

unbuttoned a capacious pock

and peculiarities were (1

“ Good-afternoon, professor,” an acquaintance
of the car cried out to him,
luck catching snakes these

common here? etc. Very ticc;" “Plum

CorrespondLms’ Column.

[This column is open to all correspondents. ki-

utes Mr_ Ben was answer quiries answered as fully and as promptly as Circum-
early every occu ant of stances Will permit. Contributions not entered as
the car. Were there really any snakes in Flor-

“ declined ” may be considered accepted. No MSS.

Declined: “ How Mame Got ‘ The Power ’;“ “ Two
Men on a Strin ;” “ Parlor Talesmen ;" “ Pistol Prue-
enter:” ‘,‘ priug Rehearsals;” “ To

ssor answered them all, and the Presbyter, Greeting; The Lay of the Steam-
himself into a dissertation boat Mam" “A ril Harmonics,” “A Com ound At-
y, till, in an absent wa , tachment?" “ he Repeater” “Lulll’s a not”

“A Hand to Direct;‘ “Fit-

FRANK M., Aurora. Nobody but a reliable medi-

Which be exhibited to a cal man is Justified in prescribing in such cases.

throng of staring and excited people. Its habits
escribed, and he laid his

SANsou SrnEE'r. Col. Thos. Scott. the “ Railway
King,” died in May, 1881. He was born in this coun-
try—in Pennsylvania, and was in no sense an English-

and from another pOCket man. You have lost your bet.

f chicken-snakes and water-
snakes of various kinds.

so small.

EDDY J. The drama " Banker‘s Daughter " is. we

Would they bite? N0 believe, the same as “ Lillian’s Last Love ” ori inal-
indeed; they were harmless. They look kind of ally brought out in Chicago, in 1873. It has hgad a

“great run." John T. Raymond never played in it

- He re laced them and unstrapped his game— to 0111‘ kDOWledge-

length.

t_ it myself, by the light of a candle, I got the bid themselves bch

st to the world.

u After they have served their time the ends are

found the ends of the cotton wicks in it, though

0 I never made any fuss about it as long as I

But we should all be very careful, nowadays,
candle, because it is wicked, you know.
SOLOMON SHINGLE.
*
Mules in Mines.
WHEN the new electric lights in the Big

e

ago the lower levels in the largest colliery at

than a dozen of them had assed eleven contin-
_ uous years in the mine an had apparently for-

they huddled together in evident alarm, and for

glare—a common experience

 

A Dog- Funeral.
A CHICAGO paper tells of the burial of an

“ Those living in the vicinity of Rhodes ave-
nue were treated to a sensational funeral ‘in
high life ’ one day last week. The deceased was
one of several large Newfoundland dogs owned
by a family residing on Rhodes avenue. It is
alleged that a lot was urchased especially for
his burial in one of the argest cemeteries in the
southern part of the count . An exquisite sil-
ver~mounted casket, liner; with white puffed
satin and ornamented with silk tassels, was or-
dered. The body was ‘laid out’ in an elegant
white cashmere robe, trimmed with real lace.
White lisle-thread stockings were neatly pulled
up over his paws to the knees; a wreath of
flowers was placed around his face, and ared
and white camelia laid in his breast. The cas-
ket was followed to the grave by the family,
and also by the bereaved dogs who had been
his companions in life. The undertaker did not
use a hearse, but he brought out a very hand-
some wagou. The funeral, it is said, aside from
the absence of ministerial services, was the
equal of that of many an aristocratic citizen
who had receded his dogship to the hereafter.
This dog ived as he was buried—in elegance,
He and his fellows had an apartment nicely
fitted up, with real mattresses and fleecy blan-
kets, pillows, pillow-slips, that were carefully
changed, and a servant who attended to their
daily bath.”

A man had better be a dog in Chicago than a
poor pensioner in New York. '

 

Some of the Big Gold Nuggets.

ON the 18th of August, 1860, a large piece of
gold was taken from the Monumental Quartz
Mine, Sierra. Buttes, which weighed 1,596 ounces
troy. the value of which was estimated at from
$21,000 to $30, 000. The nugget was sold to H. B.
Wood ward, of San Francisco, for $21,636.52. A
fine specimen was taken from the Rainbow
Quartz Mine, Chi p’s Flat, in 1881. It was
taken from a dept of 200 feet. Later it was
shipped to London and worked there. It yield-
ed $22,000. In 1855 a nugget was found at
French Ravine that weighed 532 ounces, and
was worth $10,000. It contained considerable
quartz. which is not calculated in its weight.
In 1851, at French Ravine, a nugget was found
which weighed 427 ounces, and was valued at
$8,000. A nugget is reported to have been
found at Minnesota valued at $5,000. In 1850 a
piece of gold quartz was found in French Ra-
vine which contained 263 ounces of gold, worth
$4,893. At Smith’s Flat, in 1866, a piece of gold
was taken from a claim which was worth
$2,716, and weighed 146 ounces. At Smith’s
Flat, in 1864, a nugget was found weighing 140
ounces and worth $2,605. At Little Grizzly
Diggings, in 1869, a nugget worth $2,000 was
found. A nugget weighing 94 ounces, a'd
valued at $1,770, was found at the Hope camp,
four miles below the Mountain House. At
French Ravine, in 1860, a nugget was found
worth $1.757, and weighed 93 ounces. At
Smith’s Flat, in 1861, a nugget was found
which weighed 80 ounCes and was valued at
$1,509. From 1854 to 1862 twelve gold nuggets,
ranging from 30 to 147 ounces, Were taken from
the Live Yankee claim at Forest City. From
1856 to 1862 a number of gold nuggets, varying
from 20 to 100 ounces, were found in the Oregon
claim at Forest City. A specimen worth $5,000
was taken from the Oriental (Gold Gate) quartz
mine.

 

No Snakes !

A FLORIDA paper has this story of a Smith-
sonian professor who had been into Florida to
bag snakes:—

As the afternoon train on the Florida Transit
Railroad slowed up to a water tank where a
creek flows out of a dreary cypress swamp and
crOsses the way, a hunter in high boots and
corduroy coat, with a huge bag swung to his
broad shoulders, climbed out of the tall grass
and boarded the principal passenger-car. It
was Professor James Bel , the Smithsonian In-
stitute’s agent. The train was full of people
who for three hours had endured the innocent
babble of two guileless land-agents. We had
learned from these truthful real-estate mission-
aries that alligators were as harmless as geese,
and that there were fewer snakes by far in
Florida than in New York city or Philadelphia.
The professor found the one vacant seat and

 

paper so sticky I could not write a single, or
double rhyme, and I have since felt that a great
o

be a success,” sai

Hall.

person, in a blue sh
who chanced to be in
answered every quest

stoner, pointing thro
dows.
dirt.”
“My dear sir,” he

i .
The Tombstoner wa

pebble bed: “

might as well have
going to stand by tha

calmly over the subje
in haste the first tim
decision.”

verdict, “ Came to his

long pine box going E
nine dollars charges 0
three minutes was up
edge his error.
calmly,” he said, “ he

moment, ” he added,

 

they irrigated.

precious metals.

agriculture.
to these red-men.

are being spent on exp

and total abstinence.

THE Mormons are pu

at Salt Lake.

who is 7 feet 7 1 2 inch
wears a NO. 15 boot an

of a family of 15 children, 10 of whom were

boys over 6 feet tall.
inches, and the mother
ight.

WILLIAM TAYLOR, o

is a lucky man. He has discovered a mountain
of natural soap large enough to keep the whole
human race clean for all time. Not only is this
excellent product smooth, firm and emollient,

but it possesses some
makes it the deadliest f

cle warranted by Jos

spots off a coach-dog in three days. ”

THE proposed surv
Greenland by the-in
the Arctic sea, Prof.
ing the

rior are dry and compa
contrary to the prevail
terior is free from ice.

under the it‘ietcorologic

ing south of 80 deg. north latitude, ice covered

 

flung himself into it.

continents are a physio

out what is probably

There was a chorus of
and children. men even, fl

“
Focused Pacts.

THE buflaloes of Northwest Dakota are fall-
ing beneath the rifles of one thousand hunters.

COLORADO has contributed $60,000,000 in old
and $90,000,000 in silver to the world’s stoc of

PERFECT telephonic communication has been
established between New York and Chicago, a
distance of 1,000 miles.

THE Crow Indians of Montana, who number
3,400, are mostly engaged in stock-raising and
“Poor as a crow ” doesn’t apply

THE fastest train in England only makes 53 1-2
miles an hour, and that only fora run of 77
miles. The next fastest is 51 miles, and the
next 44 and 45 miles per hour.

THE telephone ought to become perfected, as
the best electricians and inventors in the coun-
try are at work upon' it, and thousands of dollars

TEE production of sugar from sorghum was
so successful at Champaign, 111., last year, that
the works are to be enlarged, and it is proposed
to establish factories in Kansas.

WESTON, the pedestrian, is making successful
tem erance lectures in England on “Exercise
vs. onics.” He claims to have walked 56,000
miles in the last 14 years on a temperance diet

AN island in Vermilion Ba , on the coast of
Louisiana, has a solid mass ofys
twenty feet so hard that it requires to be mined
with dynamite and ground in steam mills.
About 200 tons a day are taken out.

of which they form about one-third of the popu-
lation. They have ten Representatives in the
Territorial Legislature, one of Whom is a bishop.
Their political‘action is controlled by the leaders

TEXAS claims to have the tallest American,

put upon the market; and the owner confidently
expects that it will outcleanse the famous arti-

deepest interest everywhere. [He
says of his enterprisez—“As
tion to Greenland, it is my intention, start-
ing from Auleitsivikfjord on the west coast
in 68 deg. 30 min. north latitude, to push
into the interior. Relying on the fact that all
the winds which reach the coast from the inte-

ere we have,” he said, “a beautifu
, snake, naturally tame and

perfectly harmless

rida,

sat alone, and when, at
Gainesville, he rose to leave t

 

“ Them Hills. ”

IT is related by an Arizona journalist, and is from three to four feet hi
therefore must be true, that a short time since a “grass,” but a thick, .prickly shrub which is indi—
flash young man from an Eastern college ar~ 38110118 t0 Europe. “15 verycommon upon the bills
rived at Tombstone, Arizona, and registered his and downs Of England- It bears 5' 911°" flower“ and
name at the principal hotel. A socially-inclined

irt and wide-rimmed hat,
the Office, good—naturedly
ion and volunteered a vast

amount of interesting information about Ari-
zona in general and Tombstone in particular.
“Do you see them hills!” asked the Tomb-

ugh one of the Office win-

“ Well, them hills is chock—qu of pay everyt
The young man from the East looked shocked.

said proudly, but kindly,

f‘ ygu should say those bills are—not ‘ them hills
5

s silent for a moment. He

looked the young man from the East critically
over as if he was estimating the size of coflln he
would wear. Then drawing out an ivory stocked
seven—shooter of elaborate style and finish, he
said ina soft, mild, musical tone of voice that
sounded like a wildwood brook coursing o’er its
y gentle, unsalted tenderfoot
from the land of the rising sun, this here’s a
p’int that you and me disagrees on, and we

it settled right now. I

haven’t looked in a grammar recently, but I’m

t opinion while I’ve a shot

left. I’ll give you just three minutes to think

ct for you probably spoke
e,’and then I’ll hear your

The young man from the East looked down
the delicately-chased barrel of the revolver into
the placid depth of the eye of the Tombstoner
and began to feel that many points in grammar
are uncertain and liable to grow more so. Then
he thought of the coroner’s inquest, and of the

death by standing in front

of Colorado Tom’s seven-shooter,” and of the

ast by express with sixty-
n it, and beme half the
he was ready to acknowl-

“ Since he had thought it over

believed that ‘tbem hills

is’ is right. He had spoken on the spur of the

“and begged a thousand

pardons for his presumptuous effort to substitute
bad grammar for good.”

The Tombstoner forgave him freely and,
grasping his hand, said:

“ know’d you'd say you was wrong after
you thought a moment. I admires. man who
gives right in without arguing when he knows
he’s wrong. Come along and irrigate.” And

eriments.

alt at a depth of

shing their way in Idaho,

es high in his boots. He
(1 a 7 1-2 hat. He is one

The father is 6 feet 2
a little above the average

f Rock Creek, Wyoming,

peculiar quality which
cc to dirt and grease ever

h Billings “to take the

ey and exploration of
domitable navigator of
Nordenskjold, is excit-

for my expedi-

rativel y warm, I believe,
ing opinion, that the in-
I further believe that,
al conditions now exist-

ed to the further end who is too bashful to “

1 ANDY GRACE. We think Ben Pitman‘s book, from

, which most of the others are drawn, will be found

1) the simplest so far as phonograph is concerned.
plzgewfigb’ aging,an 82128;: Books of this kind can be obtaine an
“as? eight gfeet in bookseller. Munson's “system” is somewhat used'.

through

CHARLIE BLUXOME. Ask a friend to introduce you

screams, and women to the lady. It would be much better, even if you

do belong to the same Sunday-school—A gentleman
propose ” had better write a
Better not employ a third party.

IRENUS, No.3. “A Roland for an an Oliver "

. he train, little girls signifies a blow for a blow, tit for tat. Roland and
d h f ind their mammas and
screame’ wit right.
is ' to keep l min distinct. What Roland did Oliver did.
AS 8‘ travehng igowmaf I (3° 3‘,” 186:]. to Atlength the two met in single combat and fought
. 9 pro .essm 5‘} y .0 "n' for five consecutive days on an island in the Rhine,
Tallow candles, or small pieces of them, are self, as he strode toward his lodgings in Oak

Oliver were two of the paladins of Charlemagne,
whose ex loits are so siml or that it is very difficult

but neither gained the least advantage.

CniupANZEE. Have you no dictionary? A “ chim-
panzee ” is an orang-outang. It is a native of Africa,
and is that species of the monkey tribe which near-
est resembles man. W'hen full-grown a chimpanzee
gh.—“Gorse ” is not

blossoms in winter.

SAM. The “young Englishman ” notwithstanding,
you should raise your hat to the ladies to Whom your
friend bows when you are in his company. Not to
do this won (1 be very rude. It makes no difi’erence
that the ladies were strangers to you. That when
with a friend you salute all the friends whom he sa-
lutes is acknowledged etilquette everywhere among
polite people. “Young nglishmen ’ do not know
ung, nor are they always noted for their good
manners.
T. A. G. There is no law in New York State that
prohibits the marriage of nephew and aunt—Tho
middle verse in the Bible is the eighth of Psalm
CXV III, and is as follows: “ It is better to trust in
the Lord than to put confidence in man.”—Bonner
still owns Rams and Dexter. They do not race any
more, and we cannot say why t eir owner kee
them—About the copper coins: large cents of 1 19
are quoted in the coin books as follows: Fine, 81;
very good, 50 cents; good, 15 cents, and fair, 5 cents.
RonniE. You may polish shells quite smooth with
powdered pumice-stone; then use putty-powder and
water, rubbing it on with thick felt to roduce a
gloss—If you will read Scott’s novels, “ vanhoe,"
‘Talisman," and “Count Robert of Paris,” and his
essay on Chival . and Sidney Lanier‘s “Boys‘ Kin
Arthur," and ‘ Boys’ Froissart," and G. P. R.
James’s “ Chivalryl and the Crusades," we think on
will be pretty we grounded upon the subjec of
Chiv —a sub ect that our young men, as a rule,
can we afford 0 know more about.

Tm AND J In. It was Sir Humphrey Davy who in-
vented the safety-lam p to prevent the accidents
which are liable to occur in coal mines. -There is a
superstition to the effect that marriages contracted
in May will prove unhappy; but we put no more
faith in it than in any other silliy legend. It origi-
nated with the Romans, who hel this month sacred
to A 110 and made almost every day a festival. On
the th, 11th and 12th they celebrated a festival in
memory of the dead, and from this arose the belief
that it was unlucky to be married in the same month.

HOSEA H. You certainly have deserved the lady's
anger, but she may be better disposed toward you
than you deserve. She has proved her regard for
you by the number of invitations she has extended
to you, and by her overlooking so long your indif-
ference and neglect. If you are really sorry that

on have made her angry and desire to renew your
riendship with her, write her a penitent letter and
ask if on may call upon a certain evening, (r if she
will a ow you to take her to some place of amuse-
nient upon that evening—mentioning, of course, the
p ace.

IGNORANT. Under no circumstances does a gentle-
man wear a dress suit before five o'clock p. it. If the
bride wears full dress the bridegroom must wear a
frock coat. Gentlemen no longer wear kid gloves
with full dress. A bridegroom is the only excep-
tion—When you do not understand a remark which
has been made to you you should sa , “Beg ar-
don?” with an upward} uestionin lin ection. his
is understood by all wel - red peop e to bein equiva-
lent to saying, ‘I beg your pardon, but I di not un-
derstand you. Will you repeat the remark?” And
the remark should be repeated.

BRADLEY. Of course you must make a party-call
upon the lad . If you are not pre ared to carry out
your social uties, you have no ht to accept invi~
tations. Within ten days or two weeks (at most) af-
ter a dinner, dance musicale, or any entertainment
to which you have been invited, you must call upon
your hostess, in uire after her health, s ak pleas-
antly of your en oyment of her late hospitalit etc,
if you were present; and of your regret at no being
ab e to accept her late inwtation, if you were not
present. Having ieceived an invitation you owe the
call whether you accepted it or declined it. The call
need not occupy more than twenty minutes.

Amous FATHER. asks: “Can ou tell me of any
cure or relief for scarlet fever, w 'ch can be admin-
istered to a child before the arrival of a physician?
We live miles away from a doctor, and have several
small children.” Get a reliable druggist to mix for
you one grain of sulphate of zinc, one grain of fox-
glove (digitalis), half a teaspoonful Ofsugar, and two
tablespoonfuls of water. When these are thor-
ough] and smoothly mixed, add four ounces of wa-
ter. For an adult the dose of this is a tablespoonful
every hour; for a child smaller doses according to age.
This will cure either scarlet fever or small- x in
twelve hours. It is harmless if taken by a we per-
son, and is valuable to keep in the house.

BROTHER BEN. It would be very impertinent for a
gentleman to bow upon the street to a lady with
Whom he is not acquainted. And of course she
should take no notice of him. But there are many
circumstances under which a strange entleman
should bow to a lady, whether ac uainte with her
or not. A stran gentleman sho d raise his hat to
any lady he mee upon a stairway, a hotel corridor,
or an elevator. He should raise his hat when he
stands aside for a lady to pass him. when he gives a
lady a seat in a public conve ance. when he picks
up somethin she has droppe , holdsa door open for
her to pass t ugh, or shows her any attention, no
matter how trivml. Are you sure the gentleman
meant to insult your sister, or was on] performing
an act of etiquette? Better be sure, be ore you talk
about “ fighting him.”

NED A. M. The juniper tree is an evergreen. The
common juni r is low, spreading, and shrub-like.
It bears smal purplish-blue berries, which have a
pungent taste, and which yield, by fermentation, a
spirituous liquor called gin. The 'uniper berries are
used for flavoring gin. he tree a so yields, through
incisions in its bark, a resin called sundarach which
is used for incense, and in the manufacture of var-
nish, and, when pulverized, as pounce—a fine ow-
der sprinkled upon ink to kee it from sprea ing.
The wood of the juniper is use in cabinet work and
for vcneering; and “Oil of Juni r " is used for me-
dicinal purposes The juniper is said to be emblem—
atical of death; perhaps because of the Norwegian
custom of scattering 'uniper twigs upon the Side-
walk and in the street efore a dWelling where any
one lay dead, or the inmates had lost a friend by
death.

INQUIRER. The zither is a musical instrument of
the harp or guitar order. It is the same as the “ zith-
ern ” “ mentioned in the dictionary.” It has twenty-
eight strings and is placed upon a tablebefore the
performer w 0 uses both hands in playing upon it,
and little metal claws fastened upon the thumbs.
These claws produce a resonant thrill or click which
is very effective. In its rude form the zithern, or
zither as it is now called, was an instrument of reat
antiquity, but was chiefly used in the vicinit o the
Alps and by strolling Tyrolese singers. 0 late it
has become a fashionable instrument. It is now quite
“the rage ” for fashionable young women to lay it;
and it is now “a complicated and well-cons ructed
box, with keys at one end, and all the ap ratus for
tuni which belongs to the guitar." t is played
with t efinfiers and metal claws fastened upon the
thumbs, an it is considered not only aasthetic and
fashionable to play the zither but it is claimed that
the music produced is ve “wild " and “ heart-
touching.” It is said thatrit is comparatively easy
to learn to play the zither. We know nothing of the
price of one, or the rice of lessons. All that, hOW-
ever, can be ascertained by writing to any large mu-
sic firm. For a gentleman, however, we would re~

 

 

 

a1 impossibility.” ' " '

commend the flute or violin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

  
 
   

 

 

 

   
  
  
 
    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

H‘“Ilil'llilmilllrflllilhmllll

     

 

 

 

 

Fireside Ballads.

BIG FOOT WALLACE AND HIS
PANTHER.

nv “nocxsxm an."

 

 

 

 

Far away in sunny South where the Lone Star
flag did wave, '

Where, thi-ou h the tow’ring timber, forming ver-
dant arc and nave,

Slides the beauteous Rio Frio, its waters all day

long

Throwin out their rippling music, mingling with the
bi 3’ sweet song;

Where trailing vines, from scraggy trunks, throw
out their myriad flowers,

And long festoons of Spanish moss form most artis-
tic bowers;

’Twas there, a score of years agone, on Rio Frio’s

ban ,

Just as the blood-red southern sun beneath the hori-
zon sank,

Three weary men dismounted from‘ tired, travel-
worn steeds,

And quickly quenched their burning thirst from
pools amid the reeds:

Mustangs were picketed to graze, a campfire soon
ablaze,

And smoke lay low along the east, slow mingling
With the haze.

One could not but admire their forms. Two hardy,
robust ran ers,

Whose every 100 and action showed, at home with
frontier dangers;

The other, slim and youthful—a. fair girl in dis-

ginse—

With rich wealth of dark brown tresses, and limpid
hazel eyes._

All wore their fringedjaquetas, which spoke the Rio

rande,
And armed with deadly “ Sharps" and “ Colts," to
meet marauding ban .

Their rairie meal is quick dispatched, as shadows
arker grow,

When suddenl they spring to arms, as sounds a
splash be owl

Another, and another, make their horses hasty leap,

As full a score of mounted men plunge down the
bank’s green steep.

Jack Hodge his rifle grasped in hand, then motions
toward their steeds,

As, staring wild, he stands, well braced, behind a
screen of reeds.

With quick and silent fingers they buckled harness

iqr ,

For well-trained ears like theirs ne’er failed to read
such signs aright.

Jack’s mustang stands, with champing bit; Jack
waves his pards away;

As the plunging Indian ponies throw on reed and

I branch the s ray.

With anxious loo , the others walk their horses
down the stream,

As, through the thick-laced branches, the Comanche
lances gleam.

A wild steed's head breaks through the screen, an
Indian’s painted face,

With wild eyes glared an instant at the hated white
man’s race—

Glared for an instant only, for firm eyes returned the

gaze
Alongbla glittering rifle-tube which swift emitted
az

e.

A gurgling death-cry warns the braves, then comes
a ringing yell,

As hideous painted forms appeared, like faucy’s
fiends from hell.

In tumult wild they madly rush, through bush, and

_ branch. and reeds,

With scalp-f ringed lance and hissing quirt, on battle-

eager steeds!

“ Quick! Make for Bi Foot’s ranch!" yells Jack,
“an” take keer o Rely;

“I‘ll keep ther reds from comin’ close—we’ll save
her, Clown, or die!”

Then, turning quick his snorting nag, he faced the
yelli crew.

And nimny wrought at trigger, as each lance and
arrow flew.

Then sounded many a death-knell, as, wrapped in
gloom and smoke,

Brave Jack was knocked nigh senseless, by a lance’s
glancing stroke;

But, wavering in his saddle, the death—clouds thick
around,

As his mustang, with a quivering moan, sunk dead
upon the ground,

There lpanic upon his dazed ears an old, familiar

s on ,—

Quick he was jerked upon a horse, as quickly turned
about—

While, urged by some kind, vig’rous blow, the mus-
tang fled the glade,

And nfexti1 u I) his ears there fell Clown’s sounding
us e.

He hearfi, amid revolver-shot, the fierce Comanche
ye »
And sawfibeyond the postoaks, strong pickets in the

e _.

Saw the Giant Scout, his “Sharp” in hand, and by
his side, Rely;

Heard clattering hoofs behind him, and his pard‘s
loud, cheerin cry!

His eyes all blurre with streaming blood, he grasped
his mustang‘s mane,

As through the Frio‘s bottom-land the war-cries
rung am.

A few more desp’rate bounds they made, as Big
Foot‘s rifle rang,

And the log doorc osed upon them, in his cabin,
with a clang!

The old scout rammed a bullet down his favorite old
“ Kentuck,”

Saying, “ Whar‘d ye run ag’in’ ’em, Clown? ’Tis
ther bestest kind 0‘ luck.

Take a gaze out’n ther west-end loop. an’ watch ther
cusses hard;

Fer I wants in time ter play this game, an’ I holds
ther big 053 card!

Youn ’n, yer 'ist take keer o‘ Jack—he's hed- some
053 o’ blfied—

He lays too sti in this bang-up fight—don't reckon
he’ll go to seed!

Clown,1jist lay low fer biz; an’ keep yer cards ter
5 ing;

Don't ary lo’ne git narvous, ef yer hears my tom-cat
Sing ’

Then Big Foot vanished in the loft; again the war-
cry rang;

Fierce sounds were now on every side, and on the
door a bang.

“Dog’d ef I know what‘s up!" said Clown. “ What‘s
Big Foot lingerin’ ’bout?

I’s meandered roun’ consid‘rable, but this yere’s the
boss fit—out!”

Then came a soothing whistle; next, a scratching,
purring sound;

Then a patterin‘g 1 feet outside, and the door fell to
the groun .

Then a new sound filled the cabin—a sound that
brought new dread——

A noise of chains, a horrid shriek, rung wildly over-

e .

Then, from the loft above them, sprung the scout,
his “ Sharp" in hand,

Crying, “Hump yerselves wi‘ yer shooters, an‘ show
yer hes gut some sand!

Sling ther door open speed , an’ mind what yei‘is at:

Don‘t ’low a red ter go bac ter his squaw, but don‘t
yer shoot my cat!”

All sprung without the cabin door, and saw, in the
clcar moonlight,
The warriors that survived all dashing off in fright.
Then cracked the frontier rifles, and death-yells
rung far and nea

1‘.
And soon that ficrce. bloodthirsty horde lay stark in

the. moonlight clear.

Then, standing with their rifles, Clown, Rely, and

the scout

Turned slowly toward the cabin, as Jack came stag-

gering out.

The first two sprung toward him, but stopped in fear

and dread;

For a monster panther, stretched at length, lay o'er

an Indian dead 1

A horrid beast, all stained with blood, with eyes like

coals of flame.

“ May I be chawed, cf he didn’t play ther big boss

card 0’ ther game!”

Thus spoke Clown, gazing in surprise upon the sav-

age cat ;—

“He waded inter ’em lively, tore ’em up, an’ laid

’em flat!

I never see’d reds git sich ascar’——they stood in their

tracks surprised,

Only the most war clawed inter hash—mighty few

0' t em survived!"

Playful the panther tossed an Indian with its paws.
the horrid. blood-stained corpse as it

Then cough
fell in its dripping jaws.

With cautious steps and ghastly looks, all glided to-

ward tho door,

But Big Foot paused a moment, as his pet sent out a

roar.
“I H’ist ycrselves l” he said, in caution. “ His temper

aren't sweet:

Red Richard ;
The Brand of thi’Crimson Cross.

A Romance of Californian Mining Life.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,

AUTHOR or “OVERLAND xrr," “TALBOT on CINNA~
BAR,” “ GOLD nan," “WI’ICHES on NEW YORK,”
“BAT or THE BATTERY,” “turn as.-
ROW, TEE WOLF-DEMON,” n'rc.

CHAPTER VIII.

KNIFE 'ro KNIFE.
THE combatants were at such close quarters that
neither one attempted to use his firearms, but both
had drawn their knives Red Richard being a little
the quickest, and also aving the slight advantage
of possessing the best wea on of the two, it being a
couple of inches longer t an Dave‘s knife, better
balanced and a far better shape.
The bystanders retreated precipitatel , not that
they dreaded injury from the knives, ut from a
fear that the ant onists would resort to their
shooting-irons, in w ich case, as a general rule,
th? lockers-on always sufier more than the princi-
pa 8.
To use the expressive Westernisrn: “When men
get in their work with knives, thar ain’t much monk-
eying ‘bout the picnic.”
It was so in this case.
Both of the men meant business and both went in
for work as speedil as ossible.
The fight did not ast alf a minute.
_ Red Richard, being the quickest, drove his knife
in Oregon Dave’sside, and then, assuming the de-
fepsrve, parried his antagonist’s vicious slash, and,
With an adrort movement, so quick and dextrously
performed that _the eye could hardly follow it,
slashed Dave‘s right wrist open with an ugly cut,
srx inches in length, runnin u the arm; then
there was a_flourish of the b stained knife in
the air, as if the wielder was cutting the figure

eight.

With a howl of pain Oregon Dave let fall his
weapon; his good right arm was disabled for many
a month; staggerin back, he came down all in a.
heap. The first slas he had received was a terrible
wound, although his magnificent constitution had
enabled him to stand up under it, but even his iron
frame succumbed at last.

The fight was over and the stranger the victor,
Without a scratch.

The bully, who had been used to rather lord it
over the town was a pitiful object as he lay upon
the round. 100d was streaming from the wounds
in his chest and from his disabled arm, and also
from some cuts upon his right cheek, and as the by-
standers looked upon the wounded man they under-
stood now what the a parently idle flourishes of
Red Richard’s knife in t e air meant.

hot satisfied with disabling his foe, he had left his

 

l llllll

fl
was

“signature” upon his face in a fashion that the
bully would wear to his dying day.

In almost breathless eagerness De Welcher had
watched the fight from his elevated position, and
when Oregon Dave had fallen, so thoroughly
whipped, a partly-suppressed groan had escaped
from his lips. .
“This man is a devil!” he muttered' “at him at
gnce,”Tim, you and Willamette, and make an end of

mi!

His companions stared and then they perceived
that their master was so carried away by excite-
ment that he was hardly conscious of what he was
saying. _ '

‘ It can’t be done,” the ex-sheriff replied.

“ Blazes. no!” growled the Boss Shot, who had not
the least idea of trying conclusions with the stran-
ger after the fight which he had witnessed.

“ It is Talbot—Talbot returned to seek vengeance l”
the Californian exclaimed.

“Oh, no, it can‘t be,” res onded Benefast.

“Oh, no. nary time!” chimed in the other, who
not being overburdened with ideas of his own gen-
erall ‘ made it a point to echo the ex-sheriff‘s words.

“ He’s a bigger man than Talbot, ’sides whar‘s the
scar on his face, the mark of the brand 1’” continued
Benefast. “ This fellow ain’t got any sich thing, and
sich a mark as that can’t be got rid of, ye know; it
sticks to a man arter it’s once put on till his dying
day. ’

“ It seems to be impossible, and yet the moment I
heard him speak I could have sworn it was Talbot!”

“ Yes, his voice is like the other fellow‘s, but that
is all thar is to it, I reckon,” said Benefast.

“Yes, yes, that’s ’bout the size of it," remarked
\Villamette.

“ Anyway he is a dangerous man and will be apt
to prove troublesome if we do not muzzle him in
some way,” the Californian observed.

“1 don't doubt that at all; but I say, alcalde, if
you‘ll take my advice, when you do git ready to
tackle him, fix things so that he won‘t have the
ghost of a Show for his money,” counseled the chief
of police.

While this conversation had been going on the
crowd had gathered around the fallen man, under
the supposition that he had received his death-
wound.

“ Come, come, gentlemen, don‘t crowd in and
keep the air away from the man,” expostulated the
victor in the fi ht.

“ If he's dem w‘ot difference does it make?” asked
one of the miners.

“ Oh, I reckon that he‘s worth a dozen dead men,”
Red Richard rc lied. “I only carved him a little; I
didn’t try to kil him outright. Such a man as he is
ought to be allowed time to repent of his sins before
he is snaked into the other world. A doctor will
fetch him around in no time.”

“Who‘s talking about a doctor?” asked a tall,
thin, sickly-looking man. who at the moment that
Red Richard was speaking, came strolling into the
saloon.

Instantly a shout rose on the air:

“Hallo, Doc!"

And this seedy, consumptive and decidedly fast-
looking individual was the only medical man of
whom the camp of Shasta liar could boast.

Doc Darling. or “ Old Pills,” as ho was rather fa-
miliarly called, was a decided character.

He had made his appearance in the camp some
thrce months before; coming in on foct and present-
ing every appearance of bcing dead broke; and in
fact he was in that unpleasant state. Zut hardly
{rad he struck the town when fortune smiled upon

um.

Old Lucky Blazee, the principal owner of the
Spread Eagle, mine. was taken with a fit right in
front of the hotel. Old LucN, having been striking
it rich all round, had been livin too high—as one of

 

meat

 

 

He’s hed his surprise party, but he likes a change 0’
‘9,

his companions asserted, “ fres meat three times a

day was too rich for his blood,” to say nothing of
throwing in a “cocktail ” every hour or so with
some pard, anxious to congratulate him on his good-
fortune.

Well. the celerity with which the unsavory-looking
tramp borrowed a pen-knife and stuck it into the
suffering capitalist was a caution; and the result
was that old Lucky 5 edin recovered, and was cor-
respondingly gratefu , bestowinga “ saw-buck ”-—as

who once wore the army-blue—upon his restorer.
“ You‘re a brick!" exclaimed Blazee, emphatic-

all .

3,You bet—a regular darling!” This was the doc-
tor’s favorite ex ression. and that was how he came
to be known as octor Darling. no one ever taking
the trouble to find out his real name; in fact, it is
pretty certain that the Doc would have lied if

e had been uestioned, for, from a few incautious
observations t at he had let fall during times when
he was well-steeped in liquor——the doctor was an in-
veterate drinker—it was surmised that he had just
claim to be a member of that numerous band of pil-
grims, who had pressing reasons for leaving the

ome of their youth and fleeing to parts unknown,
without taking the trouble to let any one know
whither they had gone.

The doctor, upon being informed that his assist-
ance was needed, approached the wounded man, the
crowd fallin back respectfully.

“ Sad acci cut!” the doctor observed, viewin the
victim with a rofessional eye; “ reminds me 0 old
times in Illinors when the farmers tackled the mow-
ing-machines and got whip ed every lick.”

With a sponge, tendere by the bar-tender, he

wiped away the blood so he could examine the cuts. a

“This fe ow‘s right fin will never be of much use
to him,” he remarked.

as he listened to this unwelcome intelligence.

“You did this, cuss yer!” he exclaimed. glaring ‘
up at Red Richard, who stood near at hand watch- '
ing the doctor‘s proceedings. " But I will get square
wrth you for it, and don’t you forget it, you blasted
red~haired hound l” I

“Don’t swear. my friend; you will not catch any 1
fish,” the doctor remarked.

"And this is all the thanks I et for s arin
flour life, you mountain of wic edness!‘ Re
ichard exclaimed. “You forced a quarrel upon
me with your e es open, and when I sali- ?
vated you for a you’re worth. you whimper ,
hke the whipped cur that you are, instead
of taking your punishment as a. warning. I spoiled i
your strong right arm so it can never be lifted
again to oppress. those weaker than yourself. I
p ugged ]you in the breast so that you will have a
close ca for life, and that will give you time to
think over the errors of the past, and on your
check I have cut my totem, so that wherever you
may go all men who know Red Richard and his
signature of blood, will be able to tell at the first
glance that you have fallen beneath his knife. !
“ As ion as you may live in this world, always on
your ghee you will bear the brand of the Crimson

ross!

 

 

 

{this camp of Shasta Bar I intend to act just as
l squarely as I know how. I haven‘t the least inten-
tion of gomg around trying to step upon other mule’s tail. Maybe the fellowIlaid up wasafi‘icnd
men‘s toes, nor do I intend that any one shall elbow of 'OUI‘S and you are just hungry for a chance to
me too roughly. If I am trodden upon I shall most malt
certainl turn and strike. I believe that is about the

i right thing. isn’t it?”

The miners admitted that as matters went up in
I t the Shasta region the stranger was right, and then
a ten-dollar note is commonly termed by the men they departed. Before noon that day the conversa— from view, was on a small shelf under the desk, con-
1 tion, greatly exaggerated, was the common property

' of the town.

Ii was carried straight to the Californian’s ears,
I and De Welcher, terribly angry, sent for the chief

of police in order to consult him about the matter.

I Benefast soon arrived. He antici ated whfy h
th

' had been summoned, for he, too, he. heard 0

- bold words of the stranger.

; police force entered.

at once.

“ Oh, yes,” Benefast replied, helping himself to a of their pistols as though they had suddenly become

an.

“Well, what are we going to do about it? The
fellow.actually defies me, and openly, too. I tell
ygu, 'l‘im, this man has some connection with Tal—

, t. I am sure of it, and that is what brings him
! here. I thought at first that it was Talbot himself
’t on my side, eh?” replied Red Richard, contemptu-

' in disguise, but that is not ossible, for there isn
l the least Sign of a scar upon is face.”
“ Not the least,” assented the official.

you know,” De Welcher continued.

6
e terrible wounds.

I The Californian sat in the alcalde’s emce, as a
, small shanty nextto the hotel was termed, and his Ihave ot the drop on you in the worst kind of a
._ face was dark wrth anger when the head of the way.

.“Have you heard of the loud talk of this Red
1 Richard?” De \\ elcher inquired, coming to the point

“And such a mark couldn’t be easily gotten rid of

l

_ . . l “ Not very well; when a man gits a mark like that
By this time Oregon Dave had recovered from his ere crimson cross upon his face it‘s sure to stay thar in cases where it was impossible to use force, and

faint, and a hoarse growl of rage came from his hps : until the time comes for him to pass in his checks.”

     

anybody,” the other replied. “If you want to pick
a quarrel with me, you can have it in two wags of a

e dog-meat out of me, and if so be as how you . -_  .
are, just wade in, my noble duke !” :-
Beiiefast rose in a passion, his hand on one of the ‘ "
revolvers in his belt, and at the same moment the ,.
alcalde grasped a seven-shooter which, concealed - , '

 

 

 

venient to his hand.

But quick as were the two, Red Richard was still
quicker.

Up came both his hands from out his pockets, and
two heavy derringers were displayed, ugly weapons
—pistols carrying an ounce ball,capable of inflicting

  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
      

‘ ,_.;..:.I ..
x .,1 m .

.. i   awn-r 

“Go slow—go slow. gentle pards .” he exclaimed.
“ I hate to do it. but truth compels me to state that

hese little beauties are self-cookers, and be-
fore you can get a bead on me with your we’-
ons, if you really mean business, I’ll give you a
eaden ill, warranted to cure all mortal ills!”
Both he Californian and the chief of police let go

up). .1;

Edwin .:»  ~.

    

red-hot, and sunk back in their seats with a prompti-
tude that was wonderful.

“ Hol‘ on, hol' on i” exclaimed the chief of police;
“ don’t be in such a durned hurry; we ain’t anxious
to have a fuss with you.”

“ Particularly when 1 start in with the advantage

1 .

ously. .

With a great effort De Welcher mastered the anger ~ ‘
which had seized upon him. All through his career
he had prided himself upon his finesse—upon his
ability to get the best of his antagonists by cunning,

 


‘t.
l.
‘ I
»i..
A.
’:
' :"r‘
.t.
..
is.

now, by yielding to the blind rage which had been in

. warn him that we don’t care to have any bullies or

The Californian was silent for a few minutes, busy
in thought, then at last an idea occurred to him.

“ Say. Tim, how would it do to summon this fellow
before me in my capacity of alcalde of the cam
and give him a bit of a warning?“ he asked. “ Tell
him that from what I have seen of him I have come
to the conclusion he is of a quarrelsome nature and

desperadoes locate in our town, and that it is the
general opinion the quicker he takes himself off the
better it will be both for himself and the camp.”

“ Kinder warn him that the climate may become
unhealthy for him if he don’t vamose the ranch?"

“ Exactly.”

“ The idee is a furst-class one!” the chief of police
exclaimed. " Mebbe he will take the hint and travel
when he finds thar‘s going to be a dead-set made
ag‘in’ him.”

And so in accordance with this plan a message
was sent to the rather disreputable ranch known as
O'Glory’s Palace, where the stranger had taken up
his quarters.

Red Richard, when informed the alcalde of the
town would be leased to have a few minutes‘ con-
versation with im, responded that he would be
ha py to wait upon his distinguished friend.

he stranger was nothing if not polite.

 

 

“ As long as you may live in this world, always on your cheek will you bear the brand of the Crimson Cross

The Californian started and grasped the ex-sherifi's
arm.

It was true—upon Dave‘s cheek two knife-cuts
formed the cross.

“ And now gentlemen, ta. ta! I’m stopping at
O'Glory‘s Pa ace, if an body wants me."

Then, with a gi‘acefufbow, Red Richard retreated
through the door, out into the night.

CHAPTER IX.
THE ALCALDE IS DEFIED.

THE exploits of Red Richard in the Grand Pacific
saloon were the talk of the camp next day and more
than one long-headed citizen shook his head and
sagely remarked that the stranger would have a.
hard road to travel if he had come into the camp of
Shasta Bar with the idea of bucking against Leon-
ard Dc Welcher.

Of course, his breakin the fare-bank was a
feat that might be accomp ished by any one (plucky
enough to essay the task, aided by capital an luck.
And as he was a stranger, it was only reasonable to
suppose he was not aware that the fellow whom
he had whipped so signally was the right—hand man
of the alcaldc.

A couple of the miners, feeling a decided interest in
the daring stranger talked the matter over and
coming to the conclusion that it was a shame for
the man to run his head into the lion's mouth with—
out knowing it. took it upon themselves to give Red
Richard a gentle hint in regard to how the land lay.

The. stranger thanked them for their caution but
laughed to scorn the idea. of De Welcher ruling the
town.

“ Why, what kind of people do you raise up in this
region, anyway?” he asked “ his king-pin of an
alcalde don‘t own the town. and everybody in it. too,
does he? I never heard of such a thing since I was
hatched. Such a state of affairs might have existed
in the old time down in southern California, when
the Spaniards lordcd it over the Injun icons, who
were nothing better than slaves, but for ree Amer—
ican white men to stand any such airs—bah! it is
utterly ridiculous.”

Both of the Shasta-Barites hastened to repudiate
tho insinuation.

~" Nary slavus!” cried one.

“Not much E" exclaimed the other.

“He’s nicnldc of the town, and elected by a fair
vote,” continued the first, " and he has never at-
tempted to do anything out of the way. He‘s spent
a has of money in the town. and r‘ally made
thingsrhum, but he‘s never trodden on anybody's
toes as I over lica rd tell on.”

“ Oh, that‘s so," added the other.

“How about this big mine that he is running?”
the stranger asked. “Wasn’t there Some trouble
about that? Didn’t he get possession of the prop-
erty by unfair means?”

Both of thc townsmen were embarrassed by this
question, and although they attempted to evade it,
yet at last they were obliged to admit that the Cali-
fornian had used some rather high-handed measures
in the matter.

“And this police force of twelve men! What on
earth does such a camp as this want with twelve
men on the police?”

The minors shook their heads. It was a conun-
drum and they gave it up.

“ But he pays them out of his own pocket," one of
them suggested.

“ Exactly, and they are his men, prompt, of
course, to do his bidding!” exclaimed Red Richard,
scornfully.

The miners scratched their heads; they saw that
the stranger had decidedly the best of the argu-
ment.

“I am much obliged to you, gentlemen for your
kindness in putting me upon my guard," lied Rich-
ard continued, “but the caution is needless. i am

 

 

not at all afraid of your alcalde. While I stay in

 

no
C

spired by the insolent stranger, he was merely play-
ing into is hand. An open attack was whatt e dar-
ing intruder invited, but by Secret cunning he mi ht
be trapped and brought to grief, despite of all is
sk'

ill.

“ Well, well, I suppose we may as well own up that
we were rather hasty,” the Californian remarked.
"But the fact is, stranger, you have a rather impu-
dent way with you and neither the chief nor myself
are noted for our discretion. If we see a man pre-
paring to slap us, it is only natural for us to try to

i get in the first whack.”

“1 can understand that well enough, for it is the
game I generally play.”
" But in this caso there isn’t any need of hot words
or of angry blows. I sent for you in order to come
to an understanding, and, really, there is more bene—
fit for you in such a thing, than for any one else.”
“I‘m very much obliged to you,” but the look in
the eyes of the speaker belied his words.
“ As alcaldc of this camp I try to kee ) things run-
ning as smoothly as possible. and, 0 course, you
must be aware that that row in which you were
1rfiixed up last. night has caused a good deal of bad
00d 17

“Oh, I don’t doubt it in the least; it would be
mi hty strange if it hadn’t.”

‘ The man that you forced into a uarrel-”

“ Excuse me,” interrupted Red chard, “ ain’t
you getting things a leetle mixed? Didn’t the fellow
force me into a quarrel?"

“ You struck the first blow!”

“ Certainly! and if I hadn’t he would. I was too
uick for him from the beginning to the end, and
t at is all there is to it.”

“ Yup may look at it in that way but his friends
“That is likely, if such a scoundrel as he is has any
friends.”

" You’ll be apt to find out whether he has or not if
you stay in this camp much longer,” replied the al-
calde, meaningly.

“ Well, it is my present intention to hold on here
until I break the camp or go broke myself, that is if
the men of the camp are willing to put up their
su ar on the hazard of the die.”

‘ Your life will be in danger every moment that
you remain in this valley !”

“I don’t doubt it, sir,” the warned man replied,
calml '.

“And that is the reason why I sent for you. I
wanted to warn you. You‘rea bold man and a good
fighter but there will be too man for you, and if

on value your life at all, the best t ing you can do
is to get out.”

“Rum—run from these cowardly dogs who think
to crush me b the weight of numbers!” exclaimed
the stran er, in supreme contempt. “Why; alcalde,
what kin of a fellow do you take me to e? Lab!
if they only dare to attack me when backed by a
crowd, I fancy I will not have much difficulty in
holding m ' own against them.”

“ A wil ul man will have his own way.” the Cali-
fornian remarked. “ You have been warned, and if
you choose to remain and face the danger you must
not rumble at the consequences.”

“ will take my grucl, sir, like a man, no matter
how hot it is.”

“Of course. as alcalde of the town, I don’t like
this sort of thing, and I intend to put a stop to all
acts of violence if i can, and so I give you fair warn-
ing that if there is any trouble in the camp I shall
hold the authors of it responsible."

"That is the written law I suppose?”

“ It is.”

“And the unwritten law is that every man has
the right to defend himself, and you can rest
assured I am going to do it, and- I’m not afraid to
trust the men of Shasta Bar to do me justice.”

“ Well, that is all I’ve got to say; you have been
warned, and if you will not take advice you can only
blame yourself if evil comes."

“ Is that all?”

(t  is.”

“ Ta, ta. then, I’ll see you later,” and then, with a
courtly bow, Red Richard withdrew.

Hardly had he got out of the building when Hick-
ory Burke, the Boss Shot of the Willamette, made his
appearance through the rear door, at which he had
ev1dently b: en listening.

“ Say, alcalde. how much will it be worth if I sali-
vate that cuss?” he exclaimed.

 

Ten minutes later he walked into the presence of
the Californian, both hands thrust into the pockets
of his loose sack cent, as careless and unconcerned
as possible.

There was only the alcalde and the chief of police
within the room, but six of the police force were
lounging around the house within easy call.

The quick eyes of Red Richard had not failed to
notice these fellows, all armed to the teeth, and who
surveyed him in rather insolent fashion as he ap-
proached the house.

To a man at all suspicious the idea would surely
have come that he was walking into a death-trap,
and Red Richard was susricious by nature, but 10
marched into the office with head erect, as proudly
as a king going to his coronation, rather than a con-
dcmncd man to the place of execution.

Within the office was a small desk, behind which
sat the alcalde; the chief of police was at his right
hand, and there were some half a dozen chairs scat-

motioned his visitor to take.
“I have sent for you for the purpose of having a
little important conversation,” the alcalde begun,

striving to detect if it was really Dick Talbot in dis-

ise.

“ I am on deck, sir, every time."

“ As alcalde of this camp, I am obliged to say
thalt I, regret the little trouble that occurred last
nig it. ’

“Well, yes, it was rather rough for a citizen of
the town to try and jump a stranger in such an un-
ceremonicus way, but I taught him a lesson, alcalde;
you can bet all your wealth upon it! He will not try
to climb another pilgrim for a mouth of Sundays; in
fact, I really doubt if he will ever be fit to keep his
end up again in a skirmish. You see, I made up my
mind to spoil his right fin for him, zird it will take
him some time to learn to handle either knife or
pistol with his left hand. I know. because I’ve been
thar. I took thc trouble to learn because it is a
mighty handy thing when a. man is in a tight lace
to be able to use his left duke as well as his rig t. I
can do it, and. really, with either knife or shooting-
iron I would be willing to back my left hand against
my right any day.”

The Californian scowled, and the chief of police
followed suit.

Tl‘cy di'l not at all admire the frce-and-easy way
in which this ilgrim from afar assumed that Oregon
Dave. was in 1 re wrong.

“ Well, don‘t you think you were a little hasty
about the matter?” the alcaldc asked. “The man
you hurt was a good, quict fellow, and well liked in
the camp. His friends will be apt to want to take
up the quarrel. and if you know when you are well
0 f you wi-l get out.”

“ Not much !” responded Red Richard.

“ You will surely be killed if you remain!”

“ I’m willing to bet two to one against that!"

“ You won’t stand any show with a dozen at you,”
the Californian urgcd.

“ And what kind of a camp do on call this,
where twelve to one is considered air play?” dc-
manded the stranger, scornfully.

CHAPTER X.
'rni: CHALLENGE.

THE arrogant tone in which Rod Richard spoke
nettlcd both of the listeners. It rcally scomcd its if
the man desired to quarrel; certain it was that in
his trouble with Oregon Dave ho had mft the bully
more than half-way, acting upon the old saying that
the first blow is half the battle.

“ Sco hyerl” exclaimed the chief of police, think-
ing that it was about time for him to say something,
“you had better not talk so sassy! We don’t like
folks to go shooting off their mouths quite so loud
round this hyer camp.”

“Stranger, I am not a man to waste words with

 

tered around the room, one of which the Californian .

surveying the stranger with a deal of curiosity, ‘:

“ Five hundred dollars!” replied the alcalde,
. promptly.
{ " Five hundred!” exclaimed the Boss Shot, aston-
* ished at the magnitude of the sum.
"That’s the figure, right down in hard cash the
, moment the job is done!”
! " Wa-al. I reckon I‘ll have to go in for it !" Burke
cried. “This critter is jest old lightning with the
‘ knife. and its pooty likely that he knows how to
handle his pistols right up to the handle, but when
it comes to a repeating-rifle at a thousand yards,
g why. the odds are big that he don’t count for much
. at that game.”
1 "That is true,” remarked the alcalde “ and there
' Ell‘t‘mucll doubt that you can cook his goose for
, 1m."

“ Go for him, Hickory, and scoop in the five hun-
dred!" advised the chief of police.

“You bet!” re eated the Boss Shot, and then he
retreated throng the rear door, and set out to find
, the stranger.

He did not have far to go; for he soon espied Red
l Richard standing in front of the Grand Pacific Hotel.

Burke, having made up his mind in regard to the
best way to provoke the stranger into a contest,
where he felt sure all the advantage. would be on
his side, swaggcred up to him.

“ See hyer; I want to have a leetle talk with you l”
he cxclaime i.

"Stranger, you couldn‘t have struck a more ac-
commodating man,” replied Red Richard.

“My name is Burke—r Hickory Burke, and I‘m a
par}? of the man you had the ditIikilty with last
ni t.”

“ Well, you look to be about as big a scoundrel,"
the other replied, a. fierce glare in his eyes.

“ Mebbe you‘dlike for to )Tck a dimkilty with me?”
cried Burke. rather astonis red at the reception.

“ Maybe I would; how do you like it? Shall I pull
your nose, slap your face. or ——”

The Boss Shot stepprd back at this sudden out-
break, and some of tlc townsmen who had been at-
ti‘acted to thc neighborliOCd by the threatening
demonstration came to the conclusion that a man
more ready to quarrel than tl is red-boarded st run-
gcr had never appeared in the camp of Shasta liar.

“ Hol’ on. I want a squar’ fight and no mistake!”
cried lTurke. “Kin you shoot?"

“I can—anything from a ten-poundcr down to a
pop—gun.”

" Do you dare to face me with a repeating-rifle at
a. thousand yards?”

“ I do!”

“I‘m your mutton, then! a thousand yards. and
as many shots as there are bullets in our rillcs.”

“ That suits me exactly; and after the signal each
man is at liberty to advance.”

“All right!” and the loss Shot grinned, for this
seemed to fire him the advantage.

“ Any position we please?"

“ch; that‘s all right.”

Seconds wcrc at Of‘cc choscn, and b the time
this was done about all the inhabitants o the town
were in the street to see il;c fight.

(To be conti/ ued—«mnmcnc d in No. 23.)

——-————-—

l

 

Bun thus apostrophizcs the rabbit: The rabbit
winks vith hiz nose an” sometimes he duz it with
such (fill: that the ckko agertates wat littlc tale
liczc got 1k 1“. Rahbits haz got other funny trates
besides; liczc got knczc on hiz hind legs that rccch
rom l:iz tczzc to his cll:ozc. His ears iz stiffycais of
his bclongiu‘ to the jackass family. an’ when he
sticks ’czn up the stars bcgin to it nervous an’
more out tl‘cr way. R"bbits wares urs all the hull
year, nn’ w’cn they walk yudc tl‘inkthc behind part
of ’im was harder to lift than a bnrcw, but wcn you
tctch ’im ( f, a litenin’-bng coodn’t kctcli ’im cf yude
give ’im tu daze start. Rabbits is good tcr cat, ony
you mustn’t menshun ennythin’ ’bout cats wile the
banquet is goin’ on.

 

 
   
 

   
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

slur—.0“.-

xvi—u.

 

 

 

 

   
 
 
   
    
    
    
 
   
    
   
  
   
    
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
    
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
  
    
 
 
   
  
  
    
     
    
   
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
    
     
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
   
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Murmur humu-

. ‘ll;.mllmlmmlmnu

 

  

 

THE DOCTOR'S DREAM.

’3." a ' By M. J. ADAMS.

  

 

Luna’s silvery rays were streaming
Through my window. and the seeming
. Of dark shadows lilled my dreaming
With a weird. unearthly feeling
Mortal never yet has 'nown—
I I ., ' Ugly phantoms, softly gliding,
' ' I, ' Surely not on earth abiding,
’ ' Came to me in voices chiding:
5" “ Why will you with us be dealing?"
Asked they, in a solemn tone.

. - . " We! who have gone on before you,
', ~ See! Our icy forms bend o‘er you;
' ’ Now at midnight, we implore you,
Swear to give us peace, unending——
Cease to call us from the tomb!
You, oh, slave to Science, sell us!
Swear to give us peace—to quell us!
You are silent and compel us
To a duty that is lending
' I Torture to our horrid doom!"
| I

’ ’Round my couch the glided, raising
' . J" l v Skulls from neckless rames, and gazmg
’ ‘ Straight into my own, with blazmg
Sockets, by no eyes incumber’d,
Holding me With devilish glare‘.
“ Hal You cowerl Yea, ’lis cheering!
» . I Feel the ice of death, endearing!
.. ‘ Which your worthless carcass, searing,
: ‘ ‘ Ne‘er will feel for you are number‘
Not a mortal’s death to share!

“ Gone, no friends will care to mourn you!
Tears are mockery. when we've borne you—
From these scenes forever torn 'ou—

Hurled you into caldron seething—
Supped upon your mea er brain!
Thus we grasp you, mite o matter!
Thus your boasting head we batter!
Tear your flesh, that clatter, clatter,
May your bones! and cease your breathing."
Then to speak, I strove in vain!

011' they bore me. silent. grinning.
“ This is but a mild beginning,"
Thought I, “ dealt to mortals sinning."
What a fate was yet awaiting!—
Seething caldron, phantom soup!
Balls Of fire fiercely flashing—
IVrithing serpents hissing, lashing,
Saw I, while I heard a gnashing
Of the teeth of legions, rating
On my merits—when, kerwhoop!

, , With triumphant yells they flung me

. :- , ' Into caldron deep. and sung me

. , ' I Songs satanic: t ien they stmng me

' -, On a. heated bar; then sitting,
Bowled my substance to the crew!

In a furnace then they laid me,

Dried me, and with wires made me

. Into form. and fell to grade me

, ) To the lowest ranks, " Well fitting,“

, Said they, “ such a ghoul as you!"

7', “ Fiends foul!" in voice of thunder,
- Shrieked I—then I fell asunder,

Ah. too late to mend my blunder!
..- Clear to hell’s confines remotest,
-' ' My disjointed frame flew o’er!

I ,  Then as suddenly returning,
- 1i '. . Came my bones; I waked with burning
.. ' Shame; my wife had shook me. learning
I ’15. That I dreamt, and yelled in protest—
‘ ‘ ~ ' I had hurled her to the floor!

 
  

 

 

  Old Gale’iliig Fast.

 l ,1 BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.
. HOW I made the acquaintance of Zenas Gale
does not matter here. besides being too long a
story to narrate. Sufiice that I did know him,
and that I have sat for many an odd hour lis-
, toning to the quaint or marvelous “ yarns ” that
,7.“ ‘ .; I be loved to spin, provided he had a good listener,

 --. a pipe. and an occasional glass of “something
stiff, jest to ile his claptrap.”

 

One of these in-

' . .a cidents I will transcribe, only promising that

x r  _, - he, Gale, declared it was nothing but the plain,
" I  sober truth.

“ A matter 0’ twenty y’ar gone by, a wheen
. 0’ us mountain-men were on the tra up in the
v v ,. . j Gran’ Rond Valley, an’ was a-liftin’ fur con-

, . f: sarned fast: traps full every mornin’. Croakin’

p. I bullfrogsl but them war good times; ef they
' ‘ v wasn’t, then why war pelts made?

. “An’ you know we felt good over it, as we
 '  = thought how we would spree it when we got to
' 1' 5;, -. Fort Union, then down to St. Louey. Thar

 .' wasn‘t one uv us but what c‘u’d tell to a dot jest
how many drinks 0’ tanglefoot thar shar’ w u’d
bring, an how long it’d be afore we’d hev to
mosey back ag’in a’ter more. It seems all-fired
foolish now to look back an’ see what work we’d
do to git our load, and then how soon it’d be
° - gone an’ we not a mite the better fer it; chaw
,_ me of it don’t! But then it’s human natur’, I
 '~‘ reckon.

‘1 “ “ Waal,we war a-doin’ tiptop, when one night,
cold as all git eout, the snow an’ sleet a-drivin’
like mad, as we hunkered down around a bit 0’
fire, whiz! comes a wheen o’ bullits an’ arrers
spang in our middle, throwin’ in thar tracks
four as good fellers as ever floated a stick. They
- . . i, didn’t know what hurt ’em, but we did—thet is,
A, ‘   Ben Wrayle, Steve Herder, an’ me. Each one
 L " i on us bed our sheer; I the least.

“Quawkin’ shypoker! didn’t we bunt kiver?
But ’twar no use. The reds bed stampeded our
, , , animiles, an’ ’twar ten to one. We couldn’t

. :3 A . fou’t ’em, an’ our on’y chance war to vamose an’
;  ,y ‘- try to git away in the dark. But we each left
I . H, , our mark, an’ I see’d my meat quile up ’s if he’d
, - .j' r7 ,. eat too many green crab-app es fer supper.

"15:; g Then we lit out. Jec-rusalem crickets! how I
, . ,r i did shake moccasins! Ef I didn’t run so fast
" “ a .  . that I melted the snow an’ ice ahint me, an’ my
 é} 3‘ hoofsh jest smoked, why call me a Hoosier.
lop"?  agl

"igf.

 

 

 

, , h , ,, “’Twasu’t the best 0’ travelin’ nyther, fer is
j- i,  ., n ' war as black as a nigger wench a-pickin’ a row
 ' 3‘ up a chimbly. An then the sleet a-drivin’ in
 g"; ,3 ' my face until I jist shot my eyes an’ went it
I ,f ‘.  ' blind. I could byar the reds a-travelin’a’ter

.' - me, an’ cbaw me of I don’t b’lieve they smelt
my trail, fer they follered me a matter 0’ two
. I , hours, ’itbin sound all the time. I sbuck em off
i '  u . a’ter thet, by doublin’ and strikin’ more south»-

. ', . j ’ard. I kep’ a-goin’. fer I knowed thet ’less the
; snow bid my trail, I’s a goner in the mornin’.
. ’Sides, I war skeery ’less they’d keep cluss enough
. . to sight me when day aroved.

-; f‘. “I was goin’ in a lope when the airtb gi’n

3 r . , way, an’ down I tumbled kersplunt! in a shaller,
rocky crick. I warn’t hurt much, an’ trotted on
as quick as I could git out o’ the bed. On an’ on
I kep’ trampoosin’ all thet live-long night, till I
thought I’d drap. The groun’ war ort'ul rough,
it ’poared like, or ‘less the stubs an’ stems all got
in my path, fer every leetle while I’d stumble,
., . an’ ef I didn’t fall plump down, why I’d n’arly
I f  . onj’int my neck.

' v ‘ Waal, day come at last, an’ the sun with it,
_ cl’ar an’ warm, an’ didn’t it shine on a purty-
.; V lookin’ specimint 0’ humanity, which war me?
1: ' _ , ' Hoptoads an’ lizzardsl yas, I consait it did.
Bloody, muddy, ragged, an’ nigh tuckered out,
I looked wuss’n a scarecrow. But tbet warn’t
the wust, not by a jugful. as I soon diskivered;
fer a perayry-hen flew a few steps an’ then lit
. ag’in jest afore me, an’ I thought whats. nice
'» i  ‘ breakfast he’d make, even of I did hev to eat it
i ' raw. So I up rifle; but I didn’t shoot. No,
‘ .3 siree, nary a shoot! An’ oh, how I did cuss;
. , , ' sw’ared tell the ye’tb all round looked blue as
1 I  grass! Fact, by hokus!

‘ I . “ What fer? J ist ’ca’se thar warn’t any lock
to the gun! Seems when I tumbled down inter
_ the crick the lock hit ag’in’ a stun an’ broke the
4 ».V . screw thet held it in. Then it ’ither fell out

 : tbar, or else when I war a-trapsein’ a’terwards.
_ My pistils I hed left in my seddle, an’ my knife
, . ‘-' ' . ' » whar I’d bin a—cuttin’ meat when the reds
f  ' ’bushed us.

“ Now warn’t I in a cute fix? ef I warn’t call
me a mule! Afoot on the perayry, no grub nor
any weepins to git it with, in a part 0’ the
. » kentry I’d never see’d afore, an’ cold as Grin-
t  land. Waal, I couldn’t stop to cry over it,
5 though I’ll knock under thet I felt mightily like
doin’ it. I knowed I must git somewhar, some-
time, an’ the quicker thet sometime war. the
better fur this 01’ hoss. So I lit out, an’ oh, June-
bugs and ’skeeters! how I did scratch snow. I
kep’ it up all day. ’most all night, an’ started
ag’in in the mornin’.

.-.:

  

n --v,

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

peckish.

me. I
up an’ cold in thar?

a’ter a while.

made me feel good all over.

n’arly half a day.

the good ones orter go.

all the time.
stumbled, an’ then they kivere

nigh bein’ too late.

me, but I didn’t mind them.
thet’s what I call bein’ saved
eluded Gale.

good snooze, my mind

1 war the on’y one as got cl’ar.

took a. long survey of the ceil
bottom of his glass, then smack

on,

the World.

TWO years had passed from

the Hon. Pompey S. Percy,
year of his age, of paralysis.

lowing item of gossip:

one nob

city during its erection. be finished.

ding present. It is computed to

than a million of dollars, and will be the finest of its

kind in this State.”

Schmidt, of the Emerald Car
smiled when he read it. and call

ing for the company.

“Stover,” said be, “when did
from Mr. Ray?"

“ Yesterday night, sir.”

“ Where was he?”

he’d be here today by noon.”

eyes. as much as to say:

But the
Stover, and threw down the pap
while he began to write a letter,

chief to think of Ray.
Then the foxy-faced
and muttered to himself:
“Obo, so it’s arranged at last
Bay from seeing this.”

diatoly went to his instrument
work.
It took him some time to get

with the station he wanted, and then he tele-

graphed :

ing home. What shall I do?

tick.

Stover listened intently,
seemed to interest him greatly,
went on for some time, till it
bell rung again.

round in his chair to
than Jasper Ray,

talking to you now?”

Stover had turned unusually
red again, at the surprise, but sa
“ Why, Mr. Ray, how did you

soon and quietly? I didn’t expect you till the

next train.”

Jasper laid down his bag.
“ Indeed?
all.
“Oh, only Poole and Blather,

.‘ “ A mere nothing.’
(
“Write it out for me.
those very people.”

“ I’d better put you on them at

I want

no trouble at all, I assure you.”
Jasper frowned slightly,
presligent’s chair.

(

message they just sent you. I

part, and I didn’t hear one word about varnish.”

Stover started violently.
“ W'hat!
derstand telegraphing?”
“ I understand a

 

 

 

“Fer three days I kep’ on, an’ not a bite to

   

dry reply.

“Snappiu’ turkles! how I did cuss!
begun to talk good, like I’d heered a preacher
man do onc’t to a camp-meetin’, but I’d fergit
sometimes, an’ fotch in the bad words wbar
But I meant it all well
enough, so I guess ’twon’t be laid up ag’in’ me.

“At last the coyotes got the cow away from
the rest 0’ the herd, an’ then I crawled clusser.
Fer I know’d thet in less’n a minute a’ter she
war pulled down, her bones would be licked
clean. She’d run at ’em an’ try to break t
through, but they’d snap at her heels tryin’ to “Yes,” continued Jasper,
hamstring her, an’ then round an’ round she’d
turn, bellerin’ like mad, a kickin’ and a—hornin’
But it war no go.

the meat with my claws, an’ bolted it raw.
ten minutes I forgot what hunger war,
beside the karkidge, stuffed like a hog. An’

“But how did you get clear at last?”
“Easy enough. When I’d eat my fill an’ heda
got kinder cl’ared out,
an’ I soon studied out whar I war.
a lot 0’ meat an’ struck a bee-line fer Fort
Union, nigh the mouth 0’ the Yallerstun.

rubbed out, as I l’arned a’terwards,” an’ Zenas

long-drawn sigh Of exquisite contentment.

Jasper Ray,

The Journeyman Carpenter;

 

 

One Man as Good as Another
in America.

A Story of How a. Carpentcr Made His Way in

BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER,
AUTHOR OF “JOHN ARMSTRONG, MECHANIC.”

CHAPTER XVII.
NEws FROM THE WEST.

Jasper Ray left Chicago to enter the Emerald
Car Company, when the Chicago papers con-
tained, among the deaths, the following:
“ On Friday. the 16th inst.. at six forty-two, r. M.,
in the sevent neighth
Funeral at
residence, in this city, on Sunday, 18th inst., at 2 P. M.
Two months later, a New York paper con-
tained in its Western correspondence, the fol-

“ It is understood that the youthful millionaire,
Stephen Percy. will shortly lead to the altar the
beautiful daughter of Senator Wallis, the gentleman
who resigned the presidency of the Diamond Car
Company last year in Mr. Percy’s favor.
lis was known. on her trip to Europe, as ‘ The Amer-
ican Lily,’ and there were rumors that more than

e duke in England sighed after her in vain.
The engagement between Mr. Percy and Miss Wallis
is understood to be of long standing; and the comple-
tion of the marriage has been delayed till the m
cent house. that has been so long the wonder 0 this

that it will be ready for occupation some time in

May. when the wedding is expected to take place.
the happy couple receiving the new house as a wed-

Tbis paragraph went the rounds of the papers,
and at last fell under the eye of President

faced young man who did the private telegrap

“Coming home, sir, from the South. Said

And Stover glanced at the paper in the hands
of his chief out of the corner of his foxy little

“ What set you thinking about him .9”
president had forgotten all about

tor returned to his room, picked up a copy of
the same paper, and began to search through
the page that Schmidt had been reading, till he
fighted on the paragraph that had caused his

young man smiled also,

Presently Schmidt went out on
business, and the fox -faced young man imme-

" Stock two hundred and twenty—seven. Ray com-

He waited for a little while, glancing nervous-
ly at the window, beyond which he expected to
see the form of Schmidt coming back, and pres-
ently a bell rung and the instrument began to
for the message
and the ticking
stopped, and a
Then he drew a long sigh of relief and turned
confront no less a person
with a traveling-bag in his
hand, standing at the door of the office, looking
down at him with a smile, and saying:
“ Why, St. fer, what’s the matter? Who’s

Well, I took an early one, that’s
Whom were you talking to?”

about some varnishes,” responded Stover, hasti-
,

Where’s the message, then?”

Mr. Ray?” asked Stover, Obsequiously.
and sat down in the

o. I want you to write out that same

Did you hear—that is—do you un~

good many things,” was the
“It pays me to learn them. Now

eat ’copt a piece 0’ buckskin cut from the flaps 0’
my shirt, an’, as you may ’maglne, Ifelt rayther
I bed snow fer water, an’ I swallered
it till the cussed stuff actily friz hard inside 0’
Et‘ it didn’t, what made it feel so pinched

“ On the fo’tb day I sighted a herd 0’ buffler,
an’ then I begun to hope a leetle, fer prehaps I
could find a wownded animile ‘at would gi’n out
So I follered ’em up, though I
could sca’cely see, I war so dizzy, an’ fainty fer
want 0’ grub. Purty soon I see’d somethin’ ’at
An’ thet war a
wheen o’ coyotes war a-watchin’ a cow-critter
thet I could see war badly burted. They worked
around to git her sep’rated from the rest 50’s to
hev a fa’r shake at her, but she fooled ’em fer

Then I

She tired out,
d her all over.

“I trotted as fast as I could, an’ war soon
knockin’ over the wolves wi’ my gun, but I war
As it war she war more
that half eat up. The coyotes scattered afore

I tore off bits 0’
In
an’ lay

by wolves,” con-

So I cooked

But
T’other two war

ing through the
ed his lips with a

the time when

is late

Miss Wal-

nifi-

We understand

have cost more

Company, who
ed to the foxy-

you last hear

or on the table,
and the opera-

? I must keep
some private
and began to

himself in line

STOVER. ’ ’

pdale, and then
1 :
come back so

of Cincinnati,

asked Jasper.
to hear from

once, hadn’t I,
“ It’s

heard the last

practical man.”
speaking nettled him.

to drawing checks,” he retorted. “ Where would

your company have been years ago, if I hadn’t
made advances?”

liquidation,” answered the senator, in a dogged
sort of way.
if it were all to be done over again, I
commenced at the place where I’m likely to end
now.

I’m willing to let the whole thing go, on condi-
tion that Edith marries me.”

as she doesn’t know the truth of the matter.
She imagines I’m as rich as ever. and can’t see

why I’m set on this match. You know she
hates you—”

turned Percy, irritably.

tering that it need be dinned into my ears all
the time.”

senator returned, just as irritably.
me to drive her into having you, whether she
likes you or not, and I’ve already told you I

the reason wh .”

nestly. “Indeed it was, and
driven the words out of my head.
out”

pieces.

Percy.’ You’re the man who has been betra

years.

night.”
Stover trembled violently.

cunning dyoung man, who
withstan

the opposite company, and who had been quiet

$81] .

“ you didn’t know that I had

Ray, since he came to the Emerald
works,
special line of business that he had seldom visit-
ed the ofiice. Yet he had sus cted Stover
from the first day he entered t 6 works, and
had been watching his opportunity to trap him
in some way.
“Now, Stover,” he said, quietly, “write out
that message in full, or I’ll write it for you.
heard more than you think, and you know
whether I gave you the last words correctly.”
Stover looked haggardly at Jasper and fal-
tered:

“Don’t expose me, sir. It’s the first time I
ever did it——”
“ Don’t lie to me,” interru )ted Jasper, stern-
ly. “You telegraphed to allis and Percy
two years ago with the other Mr. Schmidt
made me, and you’ve been doing it ever since,
telling them all the news that you thought
would be of service to them. You didn’t think
there was some one at the other end of the line
equally interested in my behalf. Now Write
Stat message out, or I have you discharged.

uick.”
Stover sat down and wrote out the following
message:
“Ray must not come to Chicago on any terms.
We are all in trouble just now on account of bad
speculations. but your money is safe enough. I
send orders for five hundred extra to be paid you at
your bank. If we beat. you shall be the new secre-
tary; but a good deal depends on keepino Schmidt
in the dark. and if Ray comes here it will get out.
Keep him away at any hazard. PERCY.”
Jasper took the telegram and folded it into
his qpcket, saying:

" ery well. Now I understand what you’ve
been doing well enough. The next thing is,

own up, who was talking to you, or I’ll know

“Poole and Blather,” returned Stover, ear-
you’ve nearly
I’ll write it

Jasper Watched him as he wrote, .and took
the paper, which he read and tore up into small

“You’re lying to me, Stover,”he said. “You
were getting a mesmge from Chicago from
Stephen Percy. I heard the last words, and
they were, ‘Keep him away at any hazard.

ing us to the Diamond Car Company all these
Now own up or I’ll see you dismissed
with disgrace, if not locked in jail before

He was not a villain; on! a rather weak and
ad been unable to
the temptation of heavy bribes from

ly giving away everything he knew by means
of the telegraph, Without fear of detection,
thanks to the easy, unsus icious nature of Mr.
Schmidt, who frequently eft him alone in the
office for an hour at a time while he was ab-

watcbing him,
been learnin to

had been the confidential clerk so long that
Schmidt had ceased to watch him, and Jasper
Company’s
had devoted himself so much to his

gloomil y.

"How do I know it?

“What do you mean

speculate in those

mains in my name.

- for I’ve not forgotten
yet.»

nonsense.

ried look.
what can I do?
won’t marry
make her.”

 

 

 

both great kindness.”

for me?”
“ What can I do?”

what Ishall do.”

“ And what is that?”
“Expose and sell you
beggar.
it won’t- be my fault.”

flashing, as he continued

thought a tri
fancies, and

turned the senator,
“That’s been the cause
You were satisfied the

was at a hundred and f

“ Yes.” interru

 

what did you say to him to bring out this an-
swer?”
Stover wrote out his own message, and J as-
per observed:
“ ‘ Stock two-twenty-seven’: that means ours.
‘ Ray coming home why did you say that?”
Stover hesitated.
“ I don’t exactly know, sir.”
“ You do. Answer at once, or it will be the
worse for you.”
And at this moment the form of Mr. Schmidt
could be seen approaching the office—window,
so that Stover faltered:
“ Don‘t tell him, for God’s sake. I’ll make a
clear) breast of it, Mr. Ray, if you’ll only spare
me.
“ Very well,” said Jasper, in a low tone. “ I’ll
give you one chance. Meet me at my rooms
to-night and tell me all, and I’ll put you in a
way to redeem yourself.”

“ I’ll do it,” cried Stover, earnestly. “I’ll be
there at eight, Mr. Ray.”
“ See that you do,” was the reply, and at that
moment the president of the Emerald Car Com-
pany entered the office or ing:

“ Why, Ray, my boy, thought on would
not be here before noon.” y

 

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
EDITH’s PROMISE.

SENATOR SEPTIMUS WALLIS just reelected for
a second term, nevertheless looked the reverse
of cheerful as he sat in his library in Chicago,
with Stephen Percy opposite to him.
The younger man had the usual smile of su—
percilious self-satisfaction on his face, and was
twisting his mustache to curl upward, an occu-
pation in which be passed much of his time.
“Well, senator,” he said, tipping back his
chair, and looking at his senior through half-
closed eyes, “ that’s just how the matter stands.
I have waited as long as I intend to wait, and
now the question is, what are you going to do?”

The senator, for a man of his quiet, self-reli-
ant temperament, seemed to be strangely dis-
turbed in his mind.
“I don’t know what I can do, Stephen. I
:filsllsreg’her only yesterday, and she positively re-

9 .

“Then how am I going to

get In mone
back?” asked Percy. y y

“ You know I’ve kept the
concern running against losses for a full

ear
now, ever since that confounded Emerald om-
pany began to underbid and run us out. I don’t

finownbow they’ve managed to do it, but they
ave.

“ I know," replied Wallis, rather shortly.

“ Oh, yes, of course you know. You mean it
all came of letting that fellow Ray go to the
other company,” said Percy.

“ That’s just what I mean,” retorted Wallis.
“And ’I, say it has nothing to do with it in
way.

“ I could prove it to you if I chose.”

“I’d like to hear you.”

“ Very well, then: in the first place be was the
only man we had in our employment who had
ideas and knew how to execute them.”

Percy sneered bitterly. .

“ You always thought him a. paragon, I know.
Haven’t I ideas too?”
“Not practical ones.
as be was.”

“What of that? Haven’t I done as well as
any of your mechanics? I’ve ut the hand—
somest cars to be seen on any roa into the field.”
“Yes, and not one has made money.”

“ IVhy not?”

“ Because they cost too much. You’re not a

You were not trained

Percy colored slightly. The senator’s plain

“ I’m a practical man enough when it comes
“Where it ought to have been, in process of
“I’ve never denied it to you, and

’d have

Percy made an impatient movement.
“ I don’t see why,” he said. “ I’ve told you

“And that’s just what she won’t do, as long

“Yes; you need not enlarge on that,” re-

“ It’s not so very flat-

“But you won’t realize my difficulty,” the
“You want

 

can’t do it.”

to him for weekstan

of pleasure.

“ Oh. splendid, splendid!” he hastily ejacu-
“ Couldn’t be better.

versally acknowledged to be the finest and most

expensive on the track of

running out the Emer

lated.

is quoted so 1
way.
some very low figure.
those things, you kn
can’t help reading.”
“ Oh, that’s a mere newspaper trick of the
other side,” said Percy,
none of our stock is
But never mind the
me, didn’t you pass by the new house While you
were out?”
“ Yes,” she responded, in the indifferent tone
she used constantly now.

won’t be finished for a goo

the carvings are fini
and painters ought to
the latest.”

Percy gave this information in a tone of un-
concealed triumph, adding:

lot.

tracts come in.
me.”

remarked Percy.

any means.”

Wallis. Why don’t
ity in the matter?
insist on it.”

“And why not?”

“Unhappy? Why sbo
offer to make her the rich
and—”

ball bell, and the senator,
jumped up and went to
in '

now. There’s the carria
fied way. “ I told

you my terms.
to my lawyer.

steps in the hall,
be felt in that nervous

that he was ruined, as

left to him.

“ Put them down, Jame

more than be bad 9
long time.

and then said to her fat

broad hint,

ness—”

stopped short.
business since

“So I was,

“ She might; but I can’

Percy frowned impatient

“ Why not?" persisted Percy.
is yours, and so is the house.”
“ How do you know that?” asked the senator,

Percy looked surprised.

VVh

isn’t it? You paid all the bi
“ I did, with her money as far as it went.”

3”

“I mean that, years ago, before I began to
accursed stocks, into which
your father led me, like a fool as I was, I set
aside half my property for her benefit, and that
y- has all gone into the house, which is covered
now with mechanics’ liens.”
Percy stared at him as he s oke, as if not un~
derstanding him, and after a
“Then do you mean to sex
solutel y no property left?”
“None but this house, and what stock re—
You’re welcome to that.
I can begin the world again,

how

Percy broke into a sneering laugh.
“ Yes, you’d look nice at that.

You’ve sometbin
now you’re into politics for another six years.
You must remember you owe me that, too; for,
if I hadn’t come down freely, you’d never have
got through with the Legislature.”

money, and that I can’t repay it,” was the an-
swer of the old man, while his face wore a wor-

telegraph, on purpose to find you out. id “I’m aware of that. I
you?”
Stover was too frightened to answer. Ho

“ I don’t deny anytbin
She firmly
you till she pleases, and I can’t

“Then what are you going to do? I don’t

ropose to be made a cat’s-paw, you understand.
I’m very fond of the girl, or I wouldn’t have
stood all I have from her—”
“I know that, Stephen. You’ve shown us

“Then again I ask, what are you going to do

“That’s not my business. I know very well

out.

a nice time, after you’ve been spending all this
money on the new house, to learn that
The papers will befull of it, and if you
don’t have to come down from

And Percy rose from his seat, with his eyes

“ This has gone on long enough. You've bled
me for months and months in the hope that all
would come right at last, and that Edith
would keep her word. She put me off till the
house was finished, and

t.

“Unless you can realize in the mean time,”
“You forget that, if I’ve
run the concern into debt, I’m not a beggar by

“ That won’t do me any good,” returned the
senator, rather mournfully.
“ It will. if you know what to do.
on exercise your author-
dith will obey you if you

t do it.”
C

“ Because she’s my daughter, sir. Because I
feel that I’ve wronged her enough by being led
into trouble as I have been, and because I won’t
go on any further to make her unhappy.” ers have started a movement to make bread
from the entire grain of wheat, and not from
the inner portions only. The movement has the
support of the physiologists of the day.

11!
es

At this moment they heard the sound of the

with

the window, exclaim-

“ Hush, for heaven’s sake!
ge_n
“ So much the better,” said Percy, in a satis-
you I could wait no longer.
Now let matters come to a bead. C
Refuse them, and I go straight
I’ll be fooled no longer.”
The senator made no answer, for he heard a
and knew that his daughter
was coming in from a shopping expedition; and
state in which be had
been for some months past, since be had known
far as a man of his
wealth could be, who was certain to have more
than what most men would call a competence

Percy, having said his say. sat down in an
easy-chair, and awaited the arrival of the young
lady, who presently came into the room, fol-
lowed by the waiter carry

“On business!” she echoed, as her father
“I thought you had given up
you retired from the company.
You told me you were out of it for good.”

my dear, as far as concerns the
active management; but you know I still hold
stock in the concern, and Mr. Percy—in short—

came to me for a little advice.”

‘ ‘ Indeed?

“ I saw it in the

“On the contrary,

 

 

Edith took of].I her furred cloak and threw it
over a chair, as she answered, with a slight

yawn:

“Oh, is that it?
managing for him
Mr. PerCy?”

It was the first question she had put directly
d be was put into a flutter

I thought he was capable of
self. How is the business,

eagerly.
on the market anyhow.
stocks, Miss IVallis.

“I passed by
d year yet, will it?”

the outside is all done;
shed, and the plasterers
be done before April, at

“You know I naturally take a. great interest

y that you have ab-

I was patient.
to Europe might wean her of her
let you go.
“ Yes, you did; and while we were gone, you
nearly ran the company into bankruptcy,’
with some sharpness.
of the whole trouble.
t you could run the
machine, and I let you do it while I was awa .
IVhat‘s been the conseguence? Our stock, that

y when I left, is now
down at thirty—five, and—”
pted Percy, triurn bantly,
“ and I’ve bought it all in, too. What (i)
whatit’s quoted at? I own it
“’9 control the market.”
“Much good that will do me when the con-
I tell you, it will swamp

Didn’t I?”

1y.
she be that? I
t woman in Chicago,

ing some parcels.
5,” she said, and then
favored Percy with a cool little bow, to which
he responded by a low inclination; for it was
xperienced from her in a
She waited till the serhvant had left the room,
er:
“ I expected to have found
for I wanted to speak to you a
Percy’s lips twitcbed as be heard this very
ut be said nothing, and the senator
replied, in a nervous way, much at variance
with his usual stern, decided manner:
“Yes, my dear, certainly. I was alone. but
Mr. Percy was kind enough to call on busi-

you alone papa;
bout something.”

Our cars are uni-

any road, and we’re
ald men every where.”
Then how comes it that the stock
ow?” she asked, in the same listless
paper this morning at
I take little interest in
ow, but at the same time I

“ The money

y, of course it’s so,
113.”

ong pause asked:
if it be necessary,
to shove a plane
Don’t talk

g behind all this,

know I owe you

g Percy; but
declares she

People will have
you‘re a

your high horse

You

1‘8-

in that house, for 1H? know what depends on its
completion.”

The senator, who had
furtively. broke in here:

“Yes, my dear, you know—ah—the fact is,
Percy and I have been talking over our little
family matters; and we have about come to the
conclusion that you have had time enough.
The building will be ready for occu ation be-
fore May, and Percy intends to bod you to
your promise. You would not break it?”

Edith turned her dark eyes on her father and
asked coldly:

“Have I ever broken my promise?”

“Well, yes—that is—not exactly, so to say,
broken it directly: but in an indirect way, my
dear. You have been so capricious about the
house that it has taken more than twice as long
to build as it ought to have done—”

“ And I’ve not grumbled a bit,” bastil inter-
rupted Percy. “ You can’t say that I, have,
though I've had cause enough, and you know
that. Edith.”

“Not half what you will have,” she retorted,
rather disdainfully. "If you had had the spirit
of a man, you would have abandoned the thing
long ago. I cannot see, for my part, why you
persist.”

“Because I love you, in spite of all your
cruelt to me,” said Percy, pleadingl y. “I own
it, an I don’t see why you should be so scorn-
ful. I can’t help loving you.”

“ Love,” she returned, in the same disdainful
way. “ Do you always try to make those you
love unbap y? I have told you over and. over
again that 1I) dislike you—”

“ But you promised to marry me for all that,
as soon as the house was finished and ready for
occupation.” .

“I did, and I am going to keep my word, if

been watching them

you rsist in claiming it.”
“ on are ?”
“ I am. I have told you so repeatedly. But

—but—”
She laid a strong emphasis on the word, and
Per? eagerly asked:
“ ut what?"

“But you will wish I had not he t it, before
we have lived together one week, r. Percy.”
“ I’ll take the risk of that. I’ll make you love
me,” said Percy, proudly. “ I wouldn’t persist
if I weren’t sure of that.”
“You are very confident, sir. But there is
another but—”
“ And that is——?”
“That I must a prove of everything in the
house, from the sidhwalk to the garrets. That
was my condition.”
“That’s reasonable enough,” interposed the
senator. “You can’t complain of that, Percy.
There will not be any room for a doubt on t 8
subject. A ueen could not help liking every
thing I shall ave there. you know. You will
not be unreasonable, Edith?”
“ Have I been unreasonable, so far? You have
averred that all my alterations were dictated by
good taste.”
“ Oh, yes, I admit that. In fact, I have some-
times wondered where you got it all from. You
used to take ver little interest in such things."
Edith smiled s igbtly.

“ I have been studying up,” she said, “and
erhaps I know more than you think I do.

 

o I care
all except your

See here,

a look of alarm,

She’s coming in

1 have given 1

D

“The fact is,

Tell
in
it. It
of

ably, “as long as
ate our agreement.”

large cit

troduced in
are given at which the pea
nor talk are entertained
who
those who laugh thirty cents.
already paid off a heavy debt and money is
flowing into the treasury.

recently set up in the reading-room of the mu~
nicipal library of Rouen.
keedps it running for fourteen
0d d

Rhine, is to
The blade of the sword alone weighs one ton.
On the tip of one of the fingers of the left hand

‘many,
figure of the Moselle
other,
statue, and each of
high.
and its attendant groups are being cast in Ber~

ell. Mr. Percy, is that all you have to say?”
“All,” answered the young man, more plac-
you don’t absolutely repudi-

“Oh, no, I’ve never done that. I’ve told

you that I hate you; but I’ll keep my word.
Good-morning, Mr. Percy.”

And she swept out of the room, while the old

senator muttered to himself:

“She’s a smart girl, if I say it. One might

think she knew just how I am situated with this
fellow.”

(To be continued—commenced in N0. 19.)

————_

 

Casual Mention.

 

CURIOSITY has been gratified, and sales of the

revised New Testament are said to have almost
entirely ceased.

SOME English chemists and sanitary reform-

NEW YORK has a police force of 2,707 men,

not counting the four commissioners, who are
not, legally speaking, members of “ the force.”
There are 1 superintendent, 4 inspectors, 19 sur-
geons, 3O captains,
men, and 78 doormen.

143 sergeants, 2,4226 patrol-

TBE standing army of Prussia is the largest

in the world. The garrison of Berlin numbers

7,813 men and that of Metz 14,411. Strasburg

has 8,965, Mayence 7,712, and Potsdam 6,590.
Seventy other towns have over 2,000, and there

re 266 with smaller garrisons. And this in

time of peace.

A COMPARISON of statistics shows New York

as the third German city in the world. coming
after Berlin and Vienna.
Elia and St. Louis rank

Chicago, Philadel-
close to Frankfort,
Boston is the only
in the country where Germans are
ot foun in large numbers.

A TRAVELER down the “Suwanee Riber”

amburg and Dresden.

says that that song-“enowned stream is the
most beautiful in all Florida.
beautiful, flowing smoothly,
ly to the sea between banks clad with tall
cypress, live oak, and evergreen shrubbery. It
is ever soft and graceful in outline and curve.

It is tranquil]
evenly, and rapi -

OUT of every thousand English recruits 123

disappear after about three months’ service, 246
at the end Of eight months, and 290 after about
one year’s service.
died, 39 will have invalided, 50

chased their discharge, and 160
serted or been discharged for various offenses.

Of this number 13 will have
will have pur-
will have de-

A NEW way to pay church debts has been in-
ocktown, Ohio. Church suppers

1e who do not laugh
ree of charge; those
k are charged twenty-five cents, and
The church has

AN ancient and remarkable clock has been

0

A single winding
months and some

ays. It was constructed in 1782, under—

went some alterations in 1816, and was bought
by Rouen for 1,000 francs in 1838, and has re-
cently been repaired and set going.

THE London Medical Record says of the

daughters of Eve: “Many women complain of
feeling tired after a short walk, while they are
really carrying a Weight that would soon tire a
str0ng man. Their waists are encircled by a
belt or hoop,
felon’s chains is attached, and the shoulders
and ”cbest are compressed by an additional bur-
en.

to which a load heavier than a

IT is not generally known that Australia is

entering with California as a rival to France in
producing wine.
.ern Australia especially there is a large and
growing wine production. In some respects the
soil is exceptionally adapted to the culture of
the vine and taking th
bourne Exhibition as a
that Australian wines will have a large sale in a
few years.

But it is a fact that in South-

e_awards of the Mel-
criterion, it is probable

IT is said that the gigantic statue of Ger-
ania to be placed at Niederwald, near the
contain forty—five tons of metal.

the figure is the Imperial Crown of Ger
and the body is clad in chain armor. A
is to stand opposite; an.
representing the Rhine, at the foot of the ~
these will be eighty fees
Different portions of this bronze Colossus

 

lin, Dresden,

Nuremberg and other places.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
   

 

 

 
 
  
 

 

  
 
  
 
 
      
     
    
   
 
   
      

    

   
   
     
 
 
   
    
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
     
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
    
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
   
  
 
   
   
 
  
 
    
   
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
 
   
 
  
   
   
 
  
     
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
    
  
    
  
  
  
   
   
  
    
     
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
    
 
    
   
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
    
    
   
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
 

 

 

 

 

“3‘s 2 .49.  «.7,

 

 

  
  
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. @t. . ,j—
W —. O ‘| E

 
   

 

 

TO ONE I LOVE.

BY H. S. KELLER.

 

How could I worship
Aught but thee,
Thou fair one of my heart?
Thy grace and beauty all combined
Have whispered me the riches of thy mind:-—-
More fair than what thou art
None e’er could be.

I would not win thy love
By idle play
. Of words most chosen rare—
Of mystic rhythm of the poet pen;
But, true and brave as all true men
I proffer love’s fruits fair:—
Wilt say them nay .9
So let me stay the while
Unto thee near;
I fain would tell in ' love
With eyes deep glancing into thine—-
My hand thy golden tresses twine; .~
Ah! this were bliss most dear,
With heaven’s sky above
And stars my vows to hear!

The Bat ofothe Battery;

JOE PHENIX,
KING OF DETECTIVES.

A Thrilling Story of New York Life by
Day and Night.

BY ALBERT TV. AIKEN,

AUTHOR or “JOE PHENIX, THE POLICE SPY,”
“WITCHEs or NEW YORK.” “ DOUBLE
DETECTIVE,” “ LA MARMO~
SET,” ETC. ,_ ETC.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
IN THE TOILs.

THE drug which had been instilled into the
lemonade was so potent that it overpowered the
girl’s senses almost immediately; she was help-
less almost before she was aware that anything
was wrong.

How long she remained in such a state she
knew not, but when she began to revive and dis-
tinguish objects around her, she found she was
in a narrow apartment, obscured b gloom, and
the sound of working machinery With the splash
of dashing waves came distinctly to her ears.

She was apparently moving. yet the apart-
ment in which she sat was stationary.

But just as her mind had recovered sufficient-
ly to reason in regard to where she was, and she
had come to the conclusion that she was in a
close coach, a voice sounded in her ears.

She had moved and so betrayed to the care-
ful watch fulness of the person who sat beside
her that consciousness was returning.

“Not yet—not yet,” said the voice, in tones
that she remembered only too well. “ It is too
soon: we are not yet at our journey’s end.”

And then a. strong arm encircled her and a
damp sponge, with its pores filled with some po-
tent, pungent-smelling liquid, was pressed to her
nostrils.

The full extent of the horrible situation in
which she was placed flashed upon her.

She had been drugged and abducted!

And she was not ignorant, either, in regard
to the author of the outrage, for she had recog-
nized him by the tones of his voice.

She tried to struggle—to cry out, but the
strong arm fettered her as though she was in a
vise, and the powerful drug applied to her nos-
trils quickly stole her senses away.

Again she relapsed into helplessness—com-
pletely in the power of her abductor.

When consciousness returned the scene had
changed.

She was in a brilliantly lighted, luxuriantly-
furnished apartment, reclining in an easy-chair,
as comfortable as a couch.

Where was she?

She looked around her, conscious that she had
been the victim of a. terrible outrage, and yet
unable to guess why she was attacked, for she
had not a foe in the world to her knowledge.

Her eyes fell upon a man seated in a. great
arm—chair a. few paces from her, his eyes fixed
with an earnest gaze upon her face.

There was a strange. mocking smile upon his
features, and as the astonished girl gazed upon
him a horrid truth flashed suddenly upon her.

She had recognized him at the first glance.

It was the New York entleman who had
been introduced to her by iss Brandon only a
few hours before.

Then his face had seemed familiar to her, and
she had been puzzled to account for it, for she
could not remember ever meeting him before,
but now, like a flash, the problem was solved.

This was the man who had so boldly abducted
her from the deck of the steamer.

A sickening sensation came over her; again
she was helpless in the wer of one, who if not
a maniac, was a very end in human form.

She closed her eyes as if to shut out the hor-
rid sight, and a.convulsive shudder shook her
frame.

The captor noticed the movement, and he
laughed outri ht. A low, cunning laugh, ut—
terly devoid o merriment, but full of menace.

Again the girl shuddered.

“ No need of closing your eyes,” he remarked.
“I am here all the same, though you shut me
from your sigh t. You cannot get rid of a disa-
greeable fact by so simple a process as merely
closing your eyes to it.”

Our' heroine was a brave-hearted girl, one
full of resolution, yet so intense was the terror
inspired by this extraordinary man, she felt as
weak and powerless as a puny child.

The feeling that possessed her was akin to the
horrible fright which would have seized upon
her if in some woodland glade she had stepped
suddenly upon a slimy serpent and then beheld
the reptile raise its crested head to strike.

This man seemed to her to be more than hu-
man. The boldness of his attacks and the suc-
cess which had attended them astounded her.

From the first she had escaped as though by a
miracle, but Would Heaven again interpose its
mighty arm in her behalf?

She endeavored to collect her thoughts; no
easy matter now that she fully understood her
position, and besi '85, her brain was still whirl—
ing from the effects of the powerful drug which
had been administered to her by the abductor.

With a great effort she endeavored to appear
calm, striving not to betray the fear to which
she was a prey.

She opened her eyes and looked her captor
full in the face. -

“Good! that’s a brave girl!” he exclaimed.
“ There’s nothing like making the best of a bad
bargain, and to boldly confront a danger at
once reduces its extent. 1 think I perceive that
you recognize me.”

“Yes.’

“But you did not when we met in the conn-

)7

“ No, although I knew your face was familiar,
yet I could not remember where I had seen

on.”

“It was not strange, for I dis uised myself
materially when I assumed the r0 6 of the half-
witted Frenchman, but how is it that you recog-
nize me now when your memory did not serve
you then?”

“ Because you no longer attempt to control
your features—you have thrown off the mask,
and any one who has ever once seen your fiend~
ish smile would never be apt to forget it!” she
exclaimed.

Again the man laughed, for the speech pleased
him.

“ You are right,” he remarked, “ a victim once
transfixed by my eyes seldom forgets the expe-
rien “e.”

“But what is the meaning of this terrible out-
rage?” exclaimed the girl, hotly, unable to re-
strain herself. “ How have I ever injured you
—what do you intend to do with me? I have
nothing—I am nothing—why, then, do you per—
secute me?”

 

 

 

 

“Faith! it fairly rains questions!” he cried,
with the shrill laugh that so disagreeably af-
fected the girl. “ It may not be so easy for me
to answer the questions as it is for you to ask
them. In the first place I am not sure that I
can give you my reasons. L)Ok in my eyes—
do you see anything Cdd abaut them?”

“ Yes, there is a strang s glitter and glare as
if you were not in your right mind,” she an-
SWered, promptly.

“ That is exactly the thought that comes to
me. sometimes, and I sit and ponder over it; am
I crazy, or am I not? In my actual self—for, as
you have doubtless guessed, I lead two lives, and
they are almost as widely separated as the poles
—I know I am all right, and I challenge any
one to point out a blemish: but in the other,
when I give my fancy full rei n, I am either
mad or else a demon, yet if am mad, like
Hamlet, there’s method in it.

“I have not sought you just by chance, but
through deep design. When my mad-fit is on
me I am reckless as to the consequences; the
wilder and more during the scheme that comes
into my head the better I like it.

“ Your life is shrouded in mystery. You see
I know more of you than you think. You came
a stranger here to meet strangers, but I stepped
in between.

“ The fury of the elements tore you from me,
but the chapter of accidents again brought us
together, and eagerly I snatched at the chance.

“ Again you are in my power, and this time I
fancy you will not escape until my purpose is
accomplished.

“ Girl, it is written in the stars that you must
become my wife!”

She started in horror.

“That surprises you, eh i” he continued.
“Well, I suppose it is rather startling, being so
entirely unexpected, but that is the way, it is
the unexpected that always happens.”

“But such a thing will not happen!” she ex-
claimed, her anger rising at the cool assurance
of her captor.

“It will happen within the next month as
surely as you are a living, breathing woman.
Reflect for a moment upon the osition you oc-
cupy,” he replied, calmly. “ on are here in
my power, utterly helpless. No one knows that
you are here, and your friend in the country
will not be apt to trouble herself to search after
you, for when she discovers that you are miss-
ing she will also find she is minus some valuable
pieces of jewelry, and the supposition in her
mind will naturally be that you have absconded
with the trinkets. I was careful to arrange this
little matter. As it stands, Miss Brandon, in
disgust, will look upon you'as a snake which,
after being warmed to life, turned upon and
stung her benefactor.”

“ b, you are a demon!” Lesbia cried, horri-
fied at this revelation.

“Yes, to those who attempt to cross me in
my way. It is necessary for certain purposes
that we become man and wife. There isn’t
anything romantic about the affair. I am not
at all in love with you, and I don’t expect you
to profess any affection for me, but you must
be my wife, and I haven’t any doubt that we
will get along just as well as the majority of
married folks.”

“I will never consent!”

“Oh, yes, on will! I shall tame you into
submission. on are as securely a risoner
here as though you were immur in a
dungeon a hundred feet beneath the earth’s
surface. I shall starve you until you consent.
Neither food nor water shall pass Iyour lips un-
til your proud spirit is broken. en hours for
reflection I give you and then I will come
again.”

With this Almayne quitted the apartment,
closing the door carefully behind him. It was
fastened by a powerful spring-lock.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
HUNTED DOWN.

THE apartment into which Almayne entered
was the one to which we before introduced the
reader: the library, where the consultation be-
tween the scheming doctor and the traitorous
Culpepper had taken place.

A tray containing a decanter of brandy and
some glasses was on the table.

Almayne sat down in his favorite seat, a lea-
ther—cushion arm-chair, and helped himself to a
glass of the potent liquor.

“ Aha! that’s the stuff!” he exclaimed; “ that
puts new life into a man. I do not exactly un-
derstand it, but, somehow, I don’t feel as well
as I ought to under the circumstances. Ever -
thing is progressing as well as I could possib y
wish. I have succeeded in all my designs, and
unless some evil genius rises to snatch my prize
from me my fortune is made. The girl will con-
sent to the marriage in time, and if she does not,
I will so weaken her down with drugs—so en-
feeble her mind that when the time for'the cer-
emony arrives she will be but little better than
an idiot, and will not have sense enough to re-
sist. All I am afraid of is myself. I am half
mad at times; I know it; I am quite conscious
when the spell comes on, and then I am a per-
fect wild beast, hungry for blood and slaughter.
But will not the time come at last when the
mind will give way and the madness become

rmanent! That will be an interesting study.

any men are crazy more or less, but few of
them are aware of it, as I am, and fewer still
capable of calmly waiting and watching its de-
velopment.”

He took another glass of brandy.

“ What is the matter with me’s” he exclaimed.
“I am nervous and ill at ease. Is there some
danger impending? That old tramp! that fel-
low inspired me with fear. If I were not sure
that Phenix perished beneath the waters of the
North river, I should have suspected that the
tramp was he in dis ise. The man-hunter is
dead—and the dead 0 not return."

Hardly had the words left his lips when from
behind a Japanese fire-screen which stood in a
corner of the room rose the figure of the old
tramp, a cocked and leveled revolver in his hand.

“Does not the Phenix always rise from its
ashes?" he asked, at the same time removing his
wig and beard and displaying the resolute fea-
tures of the detective.

Almayne sunk back in his chair with a con-
vulsive gasp. He realized the situation upon
the instant.

He was hunted down.

“ Do not attempt to resist,” continued Phenix,
coming from behind the screen. “The house is
filled with police; your two confederatcs are in
our hands and in order to save themselves they
have ma 9 a clean breast of it. You didn t
finish me the other night as you thought, for as I
came to the surface of the water I saw you re-
turning and I conjectured that you had an idea
of making an end of me, and as I wasn’t in a
good condition for any more fighting. my re-
volvers being useless from the ducking, I took
advantage of the fact that your back was to me
to crawl out and hide among the rocks.

“ But I lost Iyour trail though, all the same,
and only struc it again by an accident. I was
employed by Lamardale to find this girl, Les-
bia, and when I discovered that she was under
Miss Brandon’s protection I assumed a disguise
in order to ascertain exactly how matters stood,
and so was lucky enough to stumble upon you,
and I recognized (you that time, Almayne,
although you foole me completely when you
were disguised as a woman.

“The game was up then, for I felt sure you
were the man who tried to abduct the girl from
the steamer, and I reckoned you would try it
again. _

“ When you carried off the girl in your coach
I followed you on horseback having previously
warned the police by telegraph.

“That coach, with the trap-door in the floor
by means of which you were enabled to leave
the bodies of your victims wherever you pleased,
with little danger of detection, is in our hands.

“ The cloak you sometimes wore which
gave you the appearance of a gigantic bat, and
so inspired credulous souls with terror, we have
also captured, together with sundry valuables,
the property of the meg so fiendishly slain by

77 '

~

 

“ Ila, ha, ha!" laughed Almayne, suddenly re—
covering his composure, “ I played abold game,

 

 

didn’t I? It was easy enough in my disguises
to entrap my victims. They entered the house
on one street, met their doom there, then were
carried to the stable in the rear on another
street, placed in the coach, and their bodies thus
easily disposed of.

“ Probably you have suspected that at times
I am not exactly in my right mind.”

“ I have, for only a demon or a madman could
accomplish such deeds of blood,” replied the de-
tective.

“My particular craze, when the fit came on,
was to believe I was a vampire, one of those
fabulous creatures who live on human blood.
I slew my victims, and then I pricked them in
the neck with the dagger point just as if the
vampire’s teeth had bitten there.

“ I have reason for my madness too—reason
to hate all the world.

“ I was reared as the scion of a wealthy Creole
family, but when I returned from Europe to
claim my estates on the death of my parents, I
discovered that I was naught but a penniless
beggar, the child of a quadroon slave. The
blow drove me mad. I was sent to an asylum,
where I was treated in the most cruel manner.

“At last my reason returned to me, and I
was discharged cured. From that time I have
preyed upon my fellow-men as mercilessly as
any wild beast.

“ When you got upon my track I feared the
worst, and so I tried my utmost to kill you.
Fate is a ainst me, and to it I yield.

“You ave stopped me right at the moment
of success. This girl, Lesbia, is to be the old
banker’s heiress. I was going to marry h' r,
kill Lamardale, and so clutch his fortune. But
you will not hang me, though, for I am crazy.”

“ So reasoned another great criminal, but the
law took his life, nevertheless l” exclaimed
Phenix.

“ It will not take mine, for I am already dy—
ing. Like the scorpion when driven to bay, I
sting myself to death l”

He held up his left hand, upon the little finger
of which gleamed a heavy ring.

“This is the poison ring of the ancient Bor—
gias!” he cried, wildly. “ A slight pressure
drives its poisoned fangs into the hand it touch-
es. See! thus do I defy your malice!”

He clasped his hands before the detective
could spring forward to prevent it.

“Tildly he laughed, and rising, brandished his
hands in the air, wavin the detective away.

Almost immediately t e powerful poison took
effect.

“I feel it sapping the life within my veinsl”
he cried. “ No scaffold-beam, no hangman’s
rope for me! Phenix, accursed man-hunter, my
blood is on your head—in death I defy thee!”

Almayne sunk back in the chair; a few con-
vulsive gasps and the secret slayer was beyond
the ken of the law.

He was dead.

A few more words and our tale is told.

Lesbia was conducted by Phenix to the house
of the banker, and there Lamardale explained
that it was through him that she quitted
England.

Then came the story of the marvelous adven-
tures that had befallen the girl since her arrival
in the New World, and Phenix, thanks to the
revelation made to him by the baffled villain,
was able to explain the motive which had
caused Almayne to so persistently prosecute the
maiden.

Miss Brandon’s kindness to the unfortunate
girl was also made known to Lamardale, and
the banker was greatly affected.

“A coldness as existed between that lady
and myself for over twenty years on our fa-
ther’s account,” the banker said. “ y unfor—
tunate brother, whose rashness not only wrecked
his own life, but also rendered miserable all con-
nected with him.

“ Yes, my child.” he continued, “your father
was my brother, Robert. Mardal is but Lamar-
dale, shortened. Miss Brandon must be sum-
moned, for now I can explain everything.”

Brief and sad was the story of Robert Lamar-

a 9.

Even while engaged to be married to Miss
Brandon he became infatuated with another
woman, married her in secret—was supposed
by her brothers to have betrayed her, and they
waylaid him. In the struggle one of the bro-
thers was killed by Robert, and to avoid the
consequences of his crime he fled to foreign
parts and there assumed another name, and to
the day of his death never dared to return to
his native land or allow any one to know he
lived, the banker excepted, for it was he who
aided the fugitive to escape.

When Miss Brandon heard this story she was
satisfied that it was the hand of Heaven that
had led her to Lesbia; the love she bore the fa-
ther had descended to the den hter.

The banker knew naught o the lady whom
his brother had married abroad, and fearing
that Robert had a ain made an unfortunate
match was resolve not to let the child, the
issue of the marriage, know of the bright for-
tune in store for her until he had ascertained
she was worthy of it.

But Lesbia was a paragon of a woman, as
Miss Brandon declared, and the banker soon
learéied to love her as if she had been his own
chil .

Blount, like the worthy, honest fellow that
he was, deemed the now wealthy girl a prize
too great for him to aspire to gain, but Lamar-
dale speedily reassured him on this point.

“You were her steadfast friend when for-
tune frowned; do not forsake her now that she
is again in the sunshine!” he exclaimed.

Thus encouraged, Blount persevered, and ru-
inor whispers that soon the wedding will take

ace.

p Almayne, the secret slayer, the “crank” who
essayed in these, our modern times, to play the
role of a vampire bat, being hunted down, the
m sterious murders ceased.

he particulars of the affair were never made
public, for it is the policy of the police to sup-
press such things, lest the example might tempt
others to tread the self-same bloody road.

The man-hunter, no boaster, kept his own
counsel. but in all his adventuring career no epi-
sode reflects more credit upon Joe Phenix than
his_tracking to death the Bat of the Battery.

THE END.

 

Weekly ficellany.

A Baby Camel.

THERE has been an interesting increase in
the happ family of birds and beasts which is
assemble around the old arsenal in Central
Park, New York city. The latest comer is a
young camel, which began its career of earthly
troubles on Saturday night, March 3lst. Its
first experience of life was a rare one for a
camel, for it found itself repo’sing in a heap of
snow. Nevertheless. it did not pine for the hot
sands of the Great Sahara, which ought to have
been its native heath, but proceeded to make
itself as comfortable as it could until day
dawned and a keeper removed the youthful
quadruped to more comfortable quarters. For
six hours the little infant was not permitted to
draw nourishment from the natural source.
The old Mrs. Camel was inclined to be some-
what un racious toward her little one, and had
to be tie up with strong ropes before she would
permit the caresses of her babe. Said babe is
about the size of a colt, and is so ugly that if it
ever catches sight of itself it will go ofi'in a
dark corner and die. It consists principally of
legs. These are long, lumbersome, and ap ar—
ently very much in their own way. The in ant
camel has a back just like any other person’s.
There is no hump visible yet. The keeper says
that the young beast will sprout a bump in t 8
course of time. and be as proud of it as a
boarding-school boy of the first down on his lip.
The infant’s neck, moreover, is so short that it
could not eat grass, if there were any to eat,
without lying dOWn. This slight inconvenience
will also disappear in time, and the bahe‘s neck
will stretch out and double back on itself in the

 

    

manner most approved by camels which have

 

reached the years of discretion. This little
camel. while it bears no resemblance to Artemus
Ward’s kangaroo and fails to jump or squeal to
any pernicious extent, is nevertheless an
“amusing little cuss.” This young animal is
the third camel born in the Park. His mother
was born there before him, and he is therefore
a true American. The superintendent of the
menagerie says that none of the animals suffer
from the cold weather.

——

A Jackass that “Drinks.”

IT is the Bodie (Cal) Free Press that “gets
off” this item of local news:

“Aurora has a little jackass that enjo s a
drunken spree, and will drink liquor unti his
ears can no longer wag. While under the influ—
ence of wine or whisky he will perform many
amusing tricks. Several weeks ago a number
of Bodieites visited Aurora. After drinking all
they could conveniently carry the Bodieites
turned their attention to the jack. He was es-
corted into a saloon and the champagne ordered.
The jack took his “ medicine” like an old-timer.
After the second quart had disappeared the ani~
mal became frisky and wanted more. He tried
to climb up on the bar, and when intimidated
he displayed a bad temper by kicking a county
official in the abdomen and biting a lawyer’s
leg. Not until he had drank a pint of whisky
did the intemperate jack quiet down. In the
morning he was found stretched out near a de-
serted building. A cocktail revived him, and
he was ready for another “ run with the boys.”

 

The Perplexities of Polygamy.

THE individual who attempts to keep up with
domestic news in Utah finds him or herself
badly perplexed at times. Once in a while there
is a notice of the marriage of some young lady,
who is heralded as the daughter of some man
prominent in the Mormon Church, but the pub-
lic is left in the dark as to who her mother is;
which one of the half a dozen wives the man
has is entitled to the honor of being called
mother by the bride. In case of a death in the
harem there is often still more annoying per-
plexity. The Salt Lake Tribune reports an in~
stance in point, saying: “We saw in a Mormon
paper the other day a notice of the funeral of a
small boy, the son of a certain elder. Now,
those acquainted with the extensive family are
left in doubt whether this boy was the son of
the old lady, or one of her two daughters, as the
elder claims all three as his, and the numerous
progeny are so mixed up as regards their true
relationship to each other that they compromise
the matter by calling each other brother and sis-
ter all around, including the old elder himself.”

What an occasion that funeral must have
been, conducted as it was by five polygamists,
all of whom spoke their pieces, and then, as the

aper says, the remains were carried by pall-

earers, consisting of six brothers of the de-
ceased! Such incidents would be novelties any-
where else outside of Utah, but there the Mor-
mon Church is prepared to get up any kind of
monstrosity.

A New Source of Wealih.

COTTON-SEED oil is becoming a powerful rival
to oleomargarine. Twenty years ago the seed
of cotton, when ginnedfrom the fiber, was con-
sidered a nuisance, and tons of it were cast into
the Mississippi every year. Suddenly it was
discovered that the oil yielded by it on com-
pression was palatable, and the experiment of
sending it in bulk to ltaly, to be there used as
an adulterant for olive oil, was made. This
met with favor, and for many years but little
Italian olive oil has come to this country not
largely adulterated with cotton—seed oil. The
latter is sometimes shipped back without having
been even graced with a single drop from the
tree of peace. Meantime the manufacture of
the oil has assumed an important place among
the industries of the South, and is still steadily
growing. The seed is ship ed by lanters to
extensive works in New Or cans an Memphis,
and is there, by powerful hydraulic presses,
converted into oil and oil-cake. The cake is a
cheap and most nutritious food for swine, cat-
tle, and poultry, and an excellent fertilizer for
cotton and tobacco lands. The oil has been re-
cently put to domestic uses, and is employed
extensively by bakers in this city and elsewhere
as a substitute for lard. It is claimed that for
pastry it is superior even to butter, although
this is questionable.

The cotton seed oil is now being quietly forced
on the market as a lubricant and for cooking
purposes. Its latter use is far more general
than might be supposed from its small notori-
ety. It is a vegetable oil which may be pro-
duced so cheap] as to make its adulteration a
matter of smal temptation, but its effects upon
the animal economy should be rigid] investi-

ated by experts before its use in foo is popu-
arized, or even allowed.

 

 

The Coming Machine.

THAT the “Keely motor humbug ” is not dead,
but gives promise of a ver active life, is pretty
evident, i what the Phila elphia papers report
is to be verified. The Record states that the
work of erecting the new vibratory vertical en-
gine by Mr. Keely, is proceeding with all the
speed possible. The machine is rather bulky
and of peculiar construction. The bed late
upon which it rests is 12 feet by 6, of cast iron,
and weighs 4,400 pounds. The apparatus re-
sembles an orange pierced by a pencil, and then
suspended upon two uprights. These uprights
are denominated standards, and weigh 3,200
pounds each. The standard at theri ht hand
supports a steel shaft nine inches in t ickness.
This is stationary and suspended upon the end
of it is an iron disk weighing 600poundl. To
this disk is attached a cylinder containing the
secret method for giving the power. Connected
with the cylinder are ten wrought iron tubes,
three feet long, weighing 150 pounds each. At
the left-hand side of the tubes is a steel disk half
an inch in thickness, containing 230 steel pins
driven in about an eighth of an inch from the
periphery. These are placed equidistant with
mat ematical precision. and taper in length
from 5 to 2 12 inches. This portion of the ma-
chine has much the appearance of along key-
board, such as one sees in a piano. The stand—
ard or pillar at the left hand supports a nine-
inch shaft, which is not stationary. To this
shaft is attached by means of set screws an iron
shell or sphere made in four sections.

This shell covers all the machinery described
above except the shaft. The diameter of the
sphere is 66 inches, inside measurement. The
weight of the shell is about 10,000 pounds, and
the central section is cast so as to accommodate
a forty-inch faced belt. It is to revolve upon
the movable shaft at the left end, and turn
around the machinery that is contained inside
of it. In fact, the shell is to be the driving—
wheel, and is to be propelled by the force com-
municated to it from the interior. This force,
or the elements for producing it, reaches the in-
side of the shell by passing through a minute
aperture in the stationary shaft into the disk,
the secret cylinder and the tubes. From there
the power is dispensed and the sphere made to
revolve. The small engine, of which the one
now in course of erection is an exact copy, has
been made to operate, and Keely believes that
he has found the true method now. It is claimed
that the present is a simplified and modified
form of t e vibratory engine, and as it com-
bines two things, has been named the vibratory
vortical engine. It will weigh about seventeen
tons when completed. Mr. Keely makes por-
tions of the secret work himself, as he is afraid
to intrust it to any one. It has these features
about it—there is no exhaust and no heat is
evolved.

 

John Brown and the Queen.

WE are told of the “late lamented” John
Brown, the Queen’s gillie and confidential ser-
vant, that he proved himself to be an invalua-
ble part of the sovereign widow’s household,
and that his attachment to his mistress was un-

 

 

doubted. His personal anxiety on her account
amounted almost to a mania. It is said that he
was greatly worried two years ago when the
Queen was shot at by a lunatic, because he had
not been able to prevent the shot from being
fired, and because the man was captured by
strangers in the crowd instead of by himself.
He also worried greatly bzcause he was not
present'to prevent the Queen from falling on
the stairway a few days ago, and he blamed
himself for the bad effect of the drive which
she subsequently took, although her Majesty
had insisted on going out in spite of his oppo-
Sltion.

John Brown was not treated by the Queen as
a mere servant. He was rathera friend and
confidential adviser. He was not of importance
enough to be admitted to the royal table, but he
was too great a man to eat with the servants of
the household, and the result was that when the
Queen traveled three lunches had to be pre-
pared—one for the royal arty. one for the
servants, and a third for ohn Brown. It is
said that John, with the proverbial Highland
shrewdness, feathered his nest well during the
long years of his service.

A recent London letter, speaking of him,
shows the familiarity which existed between
him and the Queen, and the trouble it caused at
Court. “ Ladies in waiting of exalted rank,” it
says, “ have rebelled openly against the breach
of etiquette his familiarity has created, and re—
fused to be made a party to it; but, snubbed by
them, he was only the more graciously treated
by his royal mistress. He follows the Queen
1i e a shadow from palace to palace, in public
and in private, behind her chair at her meals, in
the rumble of her carriage in her drives, bend-
ing over to exchange a few words, ani calmly
possessing himself of her field-glass to inspect
some distant maneuver at. a review.” The
Queen herself, writing of John Brown in 1867,
in a footnote in her “ Journal of Our Life in the
Highlands,” says: “His attention, care, and
faithfulness cannot be (xceeded, and the state
of my health, which of late years has been
sorely tried and weakened, renders such qualifi-
cations mOSt valuable, and, indeed, most need-
ful, in a constant attendant upon all occasions.
He has all the independence and elevated feel-
ings peculiar to the Highland race, and is singu-
larly straightforward, simple—minded, kind-
hearted, and disinterested, always ready to
oblige, and of a discretion rarely to be met
with.”

Brown was a heavily-built, fine-looking
Scotchman, 6 feet 1 inch in hight, with a broad
chest and a well-developed muscle. He had a
large full face and high forehead, a well-shaped
head, with gray hair at the sides, well brushed
up to hide the bald spot on top. His appear-
ance and his devotion to the Queen caused him
to be known throughout England as the
“ Watch Dog.”

 

 

W A few Advertisements will be inserted
on this page at the rate of fifty cents per line
nonpareil measurement.

HANDBOOK

 

Summer Athletic Sports.

Walking, Running, Jumping, Hare and Bounds
Bicycling, Archery, etc., etc.

Fully Illustrated.
BY CAPT. FREDERICK WHITTAKEP

 

CONTENTS:

Pedestrianism; Walkers VS. Runners: Scientific
Walking (acute): Scientific Running (2 cuts); Dress
for Pedestrians; Training for a Match; Layin out
a Track (1 cut): Conducting a Match: Recor s of
Pedestrianism: Jumping and Pole—leapin (1 cut)-
Bicycling: Rules for At letic Meetings; are and
Hounds (1 cut); Archery (1 cut).

For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post—paid, on
receipt of price, ten cents, by
BEADLE AND ADAMS. PUBLISHERS.
98 William St., N. Y.

The Dime Dialegues No. 30.

Twenty delightful and “taking” pieces for
Schools, Exhibitions and Entertainments, and for
Parlor and Amateur Theatricals.

For sale by all newsdealcrs; or sent postpaid, to
any address, on receipt of price—TEN carers EACH.

BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers,
98 William St, N. Y.

The Dime Dialect Speaker No. 23.

A “taking” collection of Irish, German-English,
Cockney, Negro, Yankee, and Western vernacular
speeches, recitations and narratives, by the best
American wits and humorists. Prepared expressly
for the Dime Speaker Series.

For sale b Newsdealers everywhere, or will be
sent, post-paid, to any address, on reoript of price,
10 cents.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
98 William St.. New York.

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FR CKLE WASH surely cures Freckle, Tan and
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has been in Drug business in Bufl’alo over 16 years.

 

 

 

 

          
   
   
   
  

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6 Gold and Silver Chrome Cards, no 2 alike, with

 

 

 

 

 

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THE POTTERY CRAZE.

BY JO KING.

 

 

I am down in the mouth. I am troubled to death,
Clear out of hope, and quite out of breath;

I banker to reach the end of my days—

My darling has got the “Pottery Craze.”

If she'd only the measles, the small-pox, the mumps,
My heart would not now be so much in the dumps:—
She will not Convalesce in her life, so she. say“,

From this awful attack of the " Pottery Craze."

Her whole heart is in it, she has none left for me;—
What a change in my darling’s devotion I.  ,1

She listens no more to my love or in praise,

For her time’s taken up with this “ ottery Craze.”

\Vhen I call on her now she is changed in her way,
Her sleeves are rolled up, she‘s all muddy With clay,
And I’d not, if I could, arrest her fond gaze,
Just on account of this " Pottery Craze.”

If I talk of my love she will drift upon “Art “

Till I think that to mud she has turned her dear
heart;

And her delicate hand, which I’d hold all my days,

Is always bedaubed by this “Pottery Craze.”

To me she is dead; at least, I would say,

She gives me a smile, then returns to her clay.

She toys with the "dope ” as she turns a new vase,
And her head is turned by this “Pottery Craze.”

Then she paints all her ware with impossible things,

And doesn’t care much upon what she puts wings;

And condemns, like my heart, all things to the
blaze:—

How lcz'lning, indeed, is this "Pottery Craze!“

My heart is clear broken, like crockery—ware;

Hoge is sunk in the mud, as [in dcspair,

An I sigh. all forlorn, as she puts on the glaze,

And shed prock-odile tears o’er this " Pottery
Craze.‘

She puts on the antique, and affects the Chinese,
With Japanese birds, and Goddesses from Greece.
“II‘ll be true to my Art.” with a sim er, she says;—
But oh, not to me in this “Pottery ‘raze."

I am lost in the earth: roll the mud over me!
She‘s a modeling girl. but no model is she;—

The im-placque—able maid I will leave to her trays,
And swear at her ware and her “Pottery Craze!”

 

 

Around the Camp-Fire.

BY MAJ. MAX MARTINE.

“ Set-up ” With by a. Grizzly.

DOWN in a sheltered valley, amid the Black
Hills, the camp-fire burned brightly, while far
above our heads the cutting blast of a. “ return
Norther” swept back to the chill regions from
whence it had originally come.

Everybody was in high spirits and good
humor, for that morning we had overhauled the
thieving band of “Mountain Apaches” that
had stampeded and stolen our horses a week

revious, given them a sound thrashing, and

ad the animals safely picketed out amid the
rich grass upon which we could hear them busily
feeding.

The chase had been a hard one, but it was
over, and we were on the return path.

“ Well, may I be eternally skulped ef this
hyar ain’t a strange coinsidence,” said one
of the oldest rangers in the group around the
fire.

All eyes were instantly turned upon the
speaker, who was observed to be intently scan-
ning the faint outline of the hills on the other
side of the valley.

No one spoke, for we all knew our man, and
saw that if he were let alone the story would
delivnr itself in proper time.

“Nine years this very month sence I war in
this wally,” he continued, “ an’ the last time I
wur hyar I swore shed be the only one of I bed
enny thing to say ’bout it.

“Did any of you fellers ever go ter sleep. an’
when you wur woked up find a big grizzly
a—settin’ on the blanket alongside, a-suckin’ its
paws an’ larfin’ at ye because ye wur scarti”

“No, we didn’t; did you?” exclaimed half a
dozen eager voices.

“ Well, I did that; an’ what’s more, it wur in
this hyar very wally,” replied the old ranger,
who forthwith renewed his attack upon the but-
falo-rib that he was polishing.

It was terribly tantalizing to be kept waiting
thus, but we knew any undue eagerness upon
our part would only make the old sinner slower
than ever.

After a while he paused over his rib and again
Spoke:

“Yes, it ar’ the same place, an’ yander’s the
cliff where I lay down to ketch a. nap arter a
hard day’s tramp.

“ You see ! had been a pris’ner ’mong the red-
skins for nigh onto two year, an’ bed at last.
fooled enough to make ’em believe I wur willin’
ter stay, an’ so they ’lowed me to hunt an’ junket
about on my own book.

“ Thet wur what I had worked fer all
them two year, an’ one mornin’ I let out from
ther village an’ made a bee-line fur the settle-
ments.

“One day, arter I had been out a week, I
struck this wally, an’ feelin’ purty sartin thet I
had broke my trail, I determined totake a good
rest an‘ nap.

“ S’archin‘ aroun’ I ’spied the place edzackly
thet I war in want uv. ’Twur at the foot uv
the cliff, whar the grass war soft an’ the sun
shOne jess es ef he meant it.

“I lied kim off from the village well-fixed, an’
bed a good blanket ’sides my rifle an’ fixin’s. so
I made a spread down to the foot uv the rock
an’ fell fast asleep.

“ I did hev quar dreams, thet’s a fack, but I
didn’t see how they had ennything to do with
the b‘ar what I found a-settin on one corner uv
my blanket when I war woked up, suckin’ his
big paws. an’ larfln’ at me to see how scart I
wur. Wish I may die like a Digger ef he
wam’t.

“Yes, boys, thar sot Ole Eph, an’ thar I lay
on my back. wonderin’ what the critter war
rollin' over an’ over in his ugly head.

“ ’Twurn’t no use tryin’ to riz up. Eph bedn’t
no notion 0’ that. Ev’ry time I made a move-
ment, the cussed thing ’d growl an’ wave his
big :irmsaroun' 3' :ss like them talkin‘ chaps in
the States as gits up on stumps so ev’rybody kin
hear ’em. That war Ole Eph.

“ Well. I stood thet sort uv thing fur more’n
half the day. an’ then I begun to think, seein’
iii] war gittin’ dark, that it war time to change
t ings.

“Ef I could only git bolt uv the rifle, thinks
I. an with that l riched out my hand, slow-like.
But Eph war too old a b’ur to be foolished thet
wav. He jess gmwled an’ shook his bi head,
es much es ter say, ‘Don’t you do it,’ an’ didn’t,
you bet. -

“Then I sot to work tryin’ to foolish him an-
other way.

“I made believe thur war somebody behind
him jess going terlet him hev it over the nose.
I made signs to ’em to hurry up, an’ showed
’em how ter strike, but ’twarn‘t no u<e ’tall.
That ’er’ ole b’ar jess sot thar, cs carm an’
contented like es ever you see in all yer borned
days.

“He’d wink his little eyes, an’ flop his ears,
an’ make b’leeve to be rollin’ up his coat-sleeves
mi’ all thet, but look behind! Nary onc’t did
thet b’ar look behind.

“ Then, thinks 1, Ole Eph are captiwated by
my good looks, an’ can‘t take his eyes offen me;
an’ with thet [ sot ter work makin’faces at him,
an’ kim nigh to breakin’ both jaws, gettin’ my
eyes ter lookin’ across one ’nutber, an’ settin’
my nose so crooked thet I didn’t smell straight
fur a month.

“No go: Eph see through me like a flash
uv powder. an’ onny looked at me harder.
Couldn’t disgust thet brute nohow, an’ I guv
it up.

“ Boyees, you may b’leeva me er not, but thet
b’ar an’ me sot thar on thet blanket fur fourlong
davs, an’ they war long ’uus you may depend,
an’ made faces at one ‘nuther.

" Leetle by leetle 1 bed managed, when Ole
Eph ’d be nappin’ on post, ter draw my rifle
closer in.

“ 'l‘he b’ar would wake up an’ ketch me
workin’, an’ growl like mad, an’ then I’d hev to
quit.

 

 

“But at last I got her alongside 0’ me, an’ de-
tarmined the next time Eph dozed off ter give
him the half-ouncer smack into his eye, an’ then
git while be war in his flurry. _

“ ’Twur along time afore the b’ar dozed ag’in,
but by—em—by I see him shet fust one eye an’
then t’other, open ’em both ag’in all 117 1‘ .:ud~
dent, an’ then let 'em drap to ag’in.

“ At last they both stayed shet.

“ ’Thout a particle uv noise I raised Lite old
gun to my shoulder, took good rest onto my Ere,
drawed a fine head on the critter’s lefi’ 037:. 321’
then pulled—the hammer back.”

“ Oh, get out!” exclaimed one o. the fel-
lows. “Who ever heard of anybody getting
a bead on the game before he had cocked his
rifle .4’

“ Smart boy!” snapped the old ranger. “Why,
’ee durned fool s’posen I’d ’a’ cocked the piece
afore 1 war reddy to shoot! I reckin the b’ar
would ’a’ kept all quiet entil I got ther
bullet into him! Next time, be sartin you
ain’t makin’ yerself—well, well, never mind that

now.

“ At ther click uv ther fock Ole Eph throw-
ed both eyes wide open, an’ may I be chased
ter death by skunks ef I didn’t bu’st out larfin’
at the way he looked jess es I teched the trig~
ger.

“ You see I war too quick fur nim, seein’
thet I got my head all ready afore I cocked
her,” With a sly look at the fellow that had in-
terrupted.

“The half-ouncer went kirslash into Eph’s
left eye, an’ Eph went tumblinbbuck’ards into
the leetle crick as run along behind whar he
sot.

“ Lordy! what a bowl he fetched as he struck
the water; but afore he could think much about
it, I war half-way up ther cliff, fodderin"my

n as I went.

“I got to the top in time to turn an’ give the
grizzly the other half-ounce in t’other eye, as he
kim t’arin’ up, an’ then 1 bed the game my way
fur a while.

“The b’ar war stone blind, fur you see he
hedn’t nary eye left, an‘ he went stumblin’ an’
scratchin’ an’ gr0wlin’ aroun’, buttin’ his head
ag’in’ the rocks, till be war fa’rly wore out, an’
lay down on side uv the bill.

“It took nearly all the bullets 1 bed ter finish
the cussed thing, but I’d ’a’ stayed an’ fired into
him till yet, but what I’d ’a’ had a chunk uv his
meat off his rump.

“ Yes, siree, boyees, an’ yander’s the very rock
as see’d the whole parformance.”

M
.
.

 

Dayslllixie.

BY PRINCE PELHAIL

Afloat.

IT was all very pleasant; but the “dark, roll-
ing tide” was a sleepy lagoon, the surface of
which was rarely stirred, even by a summer
zephyr, and the noble craft that had been
launched 1‘: the placid waters was a “ dug-
out.

N ow all this does not, by any means, preclude
the possibility of no end of fun, and even of ex-
citement.

Especially was this the case when those local
lights of the “ tallow~dip ” variety, the “ Givins
gals,” made up the cream of the party; even
with the slight drawback of “ole Mis’ Givins ”
by way of chaperon.

This excellent elderly female had most incon-
veniently keen powers of vision, which anything
but fitted her for playing acceptably the part
she was but too ready to assume on all occa-
sions. Added to this, she was, in the vernacular
of the vicinity, “ as deaf as a dog—iron.”

ow some may suppose that to be a very de-
sirable quality in a duenna. We grant that it
is, in the abstract. In the concrete, however—
that is, in the case of “ ole Mis’ Givins ”—it was
open to very serious objections. The naturally
inquiring mind which the good old soul had in-
herited (without deducting administrators’ fees)
from her great ante-parent, made her the most
insatiable questioner, both direct and on the
cross, outside of a Tombs Police Court.

A very natural anxiety to extend the delights
of the occasion to all the members of her house-
hold, led the worthy materjfamilias to invite her
youthful son and heir to a free seat in the bow.
We regret to record that, for various reasons,
this youthful scion of the house of Givins was
anything but a favorite with the masculine
members of the party; nor, truth to say, did
his afiectionate sisters seem particularly desir-
ous of his society. That was easily arranged,
however—or rather disarratiged.

Once find out the weak side of the character
of a young gentleman of the indiscreet a e of
fourteen, and you know at once where e is
vulnerable. Just there J enks, my fellow-sufferer,
attacked Clay Givins.

It is sad to have it to record—and, for the life
of me, I can’t imagine how Jenks made the dis-
covery in the first place—but the weakness of
the great statesman’s namesake was for the
favorite beVerage of the region in which he had
been “ raised.” Just say “whisky” to Clay
Givins, and the effect was similar to that of
“flies” upon the immortal Jim Smiley’s cele-
brated jumping frog.

At the last moment Jenks said something, ap-
parently in strict confidence, to the would be
stowaway.

 

 

  

 

   

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I am almost positive I caught the word
“flask.”

Young Givins fired himself of! up the c0w-
path, and a minute later, without waiting for
the suggested addition to our commissariat, we
were 03—“ youth at the prow, and pleasure at
the helm.” Ican make the quotation with as
strict adherence to truth as to poetry, as that
venerable kill-joy, “ole Mis’ Givins,” did not
occupy either of those places in the dug-out.

“ bar ye reckon we’s agwine?” was the
first in uiry started by the old lady, after the
bout he started.

“\Vhy, maw ” said Glory Ann, her voice at
93:133rt pitch, ‘people never goes nowhar on
..:::‘":: s.

“ Gwine ter ketch sturgeons? I don’t reckon
thar ain’t none in ther bayou.”

“Who said they was?” rather pertly ques-
tioned the fair Caroline.

“ I never!” exclaimed the old lady, somewhat
nettled. “ I didn’t never say they was!”

“I mighty glad we got shet 0’ Clay,” sug—
gested his affectionate Glory Ann, in an un-
dertone. “That was right smart 0’ you, Cap’n
Jinks.”

Jenks, whose military title, by the way,
came as a matter of course by brevet in this re-
gion, evidently agreed with the fair creature,
and seemed quite reconciled to the absence of
the mysterious flask.

“ What yer sayin’ ’bout Clay?” asked the elder
sister, striking it on C shar .

“ Hush yer mouth, you a’line!” said the gen-
tle Glory Ann.

She was too late, however. Her persevering
maternal had caught the concluding alto, and
her thoughts reverted on the instant to her
youngest born.

“In the name 0’ the people, whar’s buddie?
What’s got the dad-lim’d, triflin’scamp? We
hain’t never come off—plum off—without him?”

We assured the youth’s anxious mamma that,
to all appearance, we had; and left her to infer,
if she pleased, that the fault was that of the
young man himself.

She kept on expressing her anxious cares and
disappointments, until Jenks suggested that we
might put back and hunt her missing offspring
up; but this, as he shrewdly anticipated, was
romptly vetoed by the superstitious old soul.
t was “ onlucky ” to turn back, and we needn’t

look for any drier fate than being “ drownded,”
if we tempted Providence in any such fashion.

IVell, we didn‘t. The entire party was too
pious—or something else—for that.

 

   
   

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‘55?“ v‘ i ‘i  a x we
 ’I/(f’

“ Thar sot Ole Eph, an’ thar I lay wonderin’ what the critter war rollin’ over an’ over in his ugly head.”

The broad, shady lagoon, on which we were
by this time $10wly floating, was certainly not—
as Mrs. Givins had already decided—the abode
of sturgeons; but, none the loss, was it the
happy home of probably as many cool and con-
tented saurians as ever were congregated in the
same space.

The weather had been unusually warm, for
February, for several days previous; and the
sleepy and semi-torpid tenants of the bayou
were as lively as eels. On all sides specimensof
nearly every size could beseen basking on every
eligible snag or floating log, and, as a conse-
quence, the excitement among the lady passcn-
gers soon became intense.

Notwithstanding the fact that they had been
almost literally “raised among ’em,” as they
said themselves, the chorus of feminine screams
at the sight of an unusually large specimen of
the tribe, outdid any similar vocular perform-
ance we had ever listened to from their more
so histicaged siglers. A

be gus ing ory nn was, if possible, more
“ afi‘ected ” by them than were her mother and
sister; an i it was fortunate that the build of our
craft was such that her best efforts in that di—
r‘ction signally failed in upsetting us. Their
effect on Ca’line, however, was quite marked.
Naturally feeling somewhat eclipsed by the re-
markable vivacity of her sister, this “daughter
of the gods, divinely tall, and (not by a large
majority) divinely fair,” determined to do what
goor Mrs. Dombey died from leaving undone.

he made an effort.

And she succeeded—not in upsetting our
raltfher substantial galley—but in upsetting her-
se .

The splash was immense.

“Air it a ’vator?" whined out her maternal
relative, who ad, for the previous few minutes,
been subsiding into somnolency-

“ N ary ’gator,” said the matter-of-fact Glory
Ann: “ hlt’s Ca’line.”

“Good land 1” exclaimed her mother.

Good water, rather, for, from its buoyant
qualities, the Lorelei of the Lagoon lay limp on
its surface, until seized in the manly grasp of
“ C ip’n Jinks,” and restored a moist, but living
body, to the boat.

J enks was quite himself, and possibly would
have been a little more than himself, after his
heroic act, had it not been for a second and
more dreaded damper, which the “ easy, breezy
Caroline ” imparted to his shrinking soul, as soon
as she could articulate.

“He saved my life,” said the grateful crea-
ture. “Maw, what ort ‘I to take and do?”

5“ He’ll hev ter merry ye, I reckon,” was the
pleasant suggestion of “ ole Mis’ Givins.”

Poor Jenks! Could it possibly have been
more unlucky had he turned back for Clay!

But J enks was 9 ual to the occasion.

“No,” he said; ‘ that would have been the
penalty had I put the young lady’s eye out.”

 

    
    
 

   

The Coward Misuse-Eye Camp.

BY '1‘. C. HARBAUGH.

 

“ A GREAT big feller like him afraid of ghosts!
Who ever heard of the like afore? We ought
ter‘put up a job on him jes’ to see ef he has a
spark of bravery any whar. Let’s try him, b0 s.”

From the manner in which the speaker’s ast
words were received by the six bronzed men

the Northern Sierras, it was evident that some-
body’s courage would soon be tested by a practi-
cal joke.

Big Pete Pollard, as he was called, was the
coward of the camp.

A veritable iant in stature, with a ruddy,
good-natured ace, and eyes always beaming
with merriinent, the big gold-hunter had had
many a rough joke perpetrated upon him.

His com anions wondered how he came to
penetratet 6 Indian and grizzly-infested lands
of the gold re 'on, when a shadow alwa s
startled him, an a ghost-story was sure to take
the color from his face.

He always demurred to standing guard alone,
but the rules of Gouge-Eye Camp were inex-
orable ones, and he was forced to submit.

For a number of days a band of Cheyennes,
absent from their lodges on a predatory expedi-
tion, had been hovering near the camp, bent on
stealing, if not massacre. Far from help, the
seven tenants of Gouge-Eye invited attack by
their exposed situation, and the presence of the
red-skins seemed to confirm the fears of the
most timid.

“I’ve heard stories about Pete showin’ grit,
boys, but they never went down,” continued the
gold-hunter, with whose remarks we have pre-
faced our present narrative. “A man what
turns white at a shadder never toes the scratch
when he’s wanted. Now, look hyer. You all
know that tunible40wn shanty we saw yester-
day while we war prospectin’? Pete knows whar
it is an’ the road to it, too. Let’s see if he has
the nerve to go thar.”

“ To—night!”

“ To-night.”

“ What bait will yer use, Sol?”

“The only one that’ll catch him. We’ll make
a draw on Pete’s big heart.”

“ Go ahead. VVe’re all in for the fun.”

So the arrangements for the test Were made.

The coward of the camp had scarcely reached
his lonely post before he was relieved by a com~

 

      
 
 
 

     
   

  

 
  
  
   

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rude, and found himself at liberty to go back to
the fire.

He found the camp not a little excited over a
report which a stranger, who had just departed,
had brought from the north.

“ In the first place, I don’t believe it,” vocifer-
ated Sol Dunbar, with a sly glance at Pete.
“ Then, ef it war so, I’d say: let ’em stay thar
an’ hold the fort till daylight. A woman an’ a
gal, eh? We’ve got lives of our own, an’ we’re
fools ef we venture from Gouge-Eye to-night.”

Sol had scarcely finished before Big Pete’s
hand encircled his arm.

‘1‘?” woman an’ a child in danger! Whar,

“ Down at the shanty we saw yesterda .”

Every eye was fixed upon the coward of the
camp.

He stepped quietly back, and picked up the
rifle he had laid aside for a moment.

“ We can’t help ’em to-night, Pete!” called out
several.

“They’ll be dead by mornin’!”

“ We’ve got to run thet risk.”

“ You may, boys, but Pete Pollard will not.”

There was a disposition on the part of several
of the men, who believed that the 'oke had been
carried far enough, to relent: but 1 overruled
them with a look, as he continued:

“ We’ve decided to let the pair hold the fort
till daylight,” addressing Pete. “ The man what
brought the news war a rough-lookin’ customer,
an’ I guess the females are on a. par with him.
But if anybody in Gou e—Eyo wants to go up
thar afore mornin’, why e kin go—so far 5 I’m
consarned.”

a 17m goinaln

The camp coward sprung forward, and had
passed beyond the fire-light before any one
could detain him.

“ Let ’im go!” exclaimed Sol. “ He’ll not get
half a mile off before he sees a ghost or hears
suthin’ among the leaves. He’ll never see the
old shanty to-night. I’m goin’ to sleep. Wake
me up when Pete comes back.”

The next minute Sol Dunbar, the practical
joker of the camp, lay on his blanket, with his
bronzed face upturned to the stars and his feet
toasting in the warm glow of the .

Meanwhile Big Pete Pollard was makin his
wa toward the lonely shanty, which hadlwen
bui t by some hunter some years before.

It stood about three miles from camp at the
base of a mountain, and in the loneliest place
imaginable. ‘

The Indian prowlers already mentioned were
known to be in the vicinity, if not actuallee-
tween the camp and the lone but: but Sol uno
bar and his companions did not care for this.

“ It’s a sin for seven big men to let a woman
an’ a child fi ht a lot of red-skins!” broke sud-
denly from ete’s lips. “ They ma wait till
mornin’, but that’s one man what wo n’t. Ye’r’
a coward, Pete Pollard—of course you ar’.

who encircled the camp-fire deep in the heart of

You don’t like to stan’ guard alone. You hatc
ghosts, an’ all that, but when a woman an’ her
child needs help you become another man.”

The “coward ” knew the exact location of
the but. He had marked it well during his visit
to it the preceding day, and had no difficulty in
striking the trail that led to it.

He gained the but, the d00r of which he found
fastened apparently from the inside.

He listened, but heard no voice within.

“ It’s mighty still ef thar’s anybody in thar,”
murmured Big Pete, not a little nonplused by
the silence. “The stranger what brought the
news to Gouge: Eye wouldn’t hevlied about sech
a matter.”

Then he raised his voice:

“ Ar’ ye in thar?” he asked.

To his surprise a child’s voice answered him,
but With a question, the one most natural under
the circumstances:

“ Who are you ?”

“Pete Pollard! I’m hyer to save ye. Open
the door.” .

“ I can‘t. Mamma fastened it against the
Indians, and she’s too weak to lift her head
now. I can’t 0 en the door because I’m not
strong enough. ’m only six years old.” ,

“Good heavens! a baby almost,” exclaimed
Big Pete. “Ef you’re standin’ nigh the door,
little one, get away, for I’m goin’ to fall ag’in’
1

He was soon informed b the child inside that
his instructions had been obeyed, and he stepped
back to gather strength for the assault.

He was about to throw himself against the
portal when a slight noise up the mountain-side
attracted his attention enough to remove it for
a moment from the hut.

“ Suthin’ ’5 up tbar, but whether b’ar or
In 'in, I don’t know,” breathed the gold-hunter.
“ kin hearit comin’ down the mountain. It
moves like a grizzly, but it may be a Cheyenne.”

“ Are you going to open the door?" asked an
impatient little voice from within at this junc-
ture.

“ Yes, I am 1” said Pete, and turning from the
enigma overhead, he threw his huge frame

“ Here I am!” cried a girlish voice as a child’s
hands fell against the coward of Gouge-Eye
Camp. “ Mamma’s over there in the corner too
weak to thank you, I’m afraid. Come, I’ll lead
you to her.”

Big Pete permitted the child to lead him
through the gloom that filled the cabin. A mo-
ment later he knelt at her bidding, and was
told that the mother lay before him.

The great bronze hands of the gold-seeker
gro ed through the darkness, until a. cry sud-
den y rung from his lips. He had touched a
face as cold as ice. .

“ Mamma is dead! You came too late!” said
the little girl.

“ I can save you.”

Big Pete rose abruptly, for a noise in his rear
had admonished him that the cabin was about
to admit other visitors.

He went forward to the door, knife in hand,
and there confronted not a dozen Cheyennes,
but two huge grizzlies, whose forms were dis-
tin ishable in the starlight.

'Iglih fore-paws of one were on the threshold of
the lone but, and the gleaming teeth and mad
eyes snapped and flashed defiance at Gouge-
Eye’s “ coward.”

“ Thar’s no use in talkin’, you can’t have the
little gall” cried Big Pete, reaching for his rifle,
which he had laid aside for a moment. “I
can’t bear a ghost, but I never shirk a b’ar-
fight.”

The foremost monster pushed his body half-
way in the but, and the next instant Pete’s
rifle flashed in his face.

A growl of pain followed the report, and the
grizzly retreated towardhis companion, badly,
if not mortally, wounded.

The respite did not last a minute, and Pete
found himself face to face with the beast again
before he could reload.

“If it‘s got to be knife an’ claw, I’m yer
huckleberry!” said the gold~hunt;r, throwing
down the gun and drawing his long-bladed
knife for the second time.

The grizzl king of the Sierras rose on his
hind feet an came at the white man.

Where the little girl was he did not know.
Like a brave man he had resolved to stand be-
tween her and the bears.

Bruin gave Big Pete no time in which to as-
certain the child’s whereabouts; the huge paws
were outstretched to tear him, the hot breath of
the monster was already on his cheek.

It was to be a. duel in the dark, and a. duel to
the death.

As one of the grizzly’s aws struck Big Pete’s
shoulder a blow was dea t that sent the blade
beneath fur and skin, and before the knife
could be withdrawn the two combatants were
on the half-decayed puncheon floor engaged in
one of those death grapples which can neither
be imagined nor described.

The little girl kneeling over the corpse in one
of the darkened corners of the cabin clasped
her hands and held her breath. Her life hung

«on the issue of the conflict.

Ten minutes after the bear’s attack Big Pete
Pollard rose from the ground, but such a
spectacle!

His clothes were tatters, the flesh hung in
shreds from his left arm, there were deep death-
gashes on his breast—he was the victor, but
there was yet another bear;

Still clutching the knife on whose steel his
own lifeblood was mingled with that of the
monster breathing his last at his feet, he stag-
gered toward the door with death and defiance
in his blazing eyes!

But the other grizzly was not to be Seen.

Had the second bear left her companion to
his fate?

Big Pete leaned forward and looked up and
d0wn the mountain trail.

“ Who’s the coward?” he grated.

At that moment a shrill whoop assailed his
ears.

“ Injuns!” fell from his lips, and then be con-
tinued: “ They sha’n’t get in hyer!”

.dHe turned away and called the child to his
SI 9.

“Help me shut the door, laby,” he contin-
ued, reeling as he clutched the portal.

The combined strength of the twain shut the
door, and a moment later Big Pete Pollard had
braced himself against it.

“ Now let ’em come!” he said. “ Go back to
yer mother, baby. Pete Pollard, the coward,
stands between you an’ the red-skins!”

The child returned to her vigil over the dead,
and the cabin became the abode of silence once
more.

Ten minutes wore away.

At the end of that time the child heard voices
on the outside of the cabin.

There were white men out there.

She sprung up ard ran to the door.

She found Big Pete’s hand in the darkness'
she called to him in her childish way, but he did
not speak.

“ Hello! Pete. ar’ ye in that?” called a loud
voice on the outside.

“ Pete—Pete! why don’t you answer them 3”
leaded the child. “They must be our friends,
or they—”

Somebody had tried to force the (portal, and

l

Pete Pollard had fallen to the groun

The men of Gouge-Eye Camp entered the

cabin.

They found the “coward” already cold, with

the bloody knife still in his hand.

Their surprise was greatest when they discov-

ered the mountain waif and the dead mother.
They had never dreamed that Big Pete would
find the cabin inhabited by the remnants of a
gold-hunter’s family, who were trying to find
0

ad and friends,
Sol Dunbar gazed with moistened eyes upon

the mangled body of the victim of his practical

jokes, and the Camp resolved to ado t the child

lwhose life their comrade had sava by losing
IS 0WD.

Nobody, from that tragic night, ever doubted

the courage of the big gold—hunter who believed
in ghosts.

Thus perished the “coward” of Gouge-Eye
amp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

against the door which fell inward with a crash. .

 

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