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I This Week! Aiken’s Favorite Field! A Romance of the California Mines! 

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RED RICHARD;

THE BRAND of the CRIMSON CROSS.

A ROMANCE 0P CALIFORNIAN MINING LIFE.

 

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,

Au'rnon or “OVERLAND m," “TALBOT or CINNABAR,” “GOLD DAN,” “wrrcnss on NEW
YORK,” “ BAT or ran BATTERY,” “RED ARROW, THE WOer DEMON,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.
A WOMAN'S FAITH.

reigned over the town of Shasta Bar.

Not even the prolonged war-whoop of some be-
lated mysterer, making his uncertain way to his
lonely cabin, disturbed the stillness which had come
upon fire town with the approach of midnight.

All—all asleep beneath each roof by the Shasta's
rapid stream.

bove, in the heavens, sailed a Iglorious full moon,
whose light revealed the face 0 nature almost as
plainly as thou h the sun shone.

Up, on the
above the town, stood the works of the Old Hat Min-
ing Company, a concern which played quite a promi-
nent part in our former tale treating Of Richard
Talbot‘s adventures in this region, and which was
called “ Lion Hearted Dick.”

A ear has elapsed since the events took place
whic formed the basis of that story, and during
that time the mining company had prospered, thanks
to Talbot’s skill and energy. Just a year ago he had
become the superintendent of the concern, and from
the first seemed to put new life into it.

And now on this night of which we write he sat in
the little office shanty, busily engaged by the light
of a candle in some abstrnse calculations.

A year had not changed our hero materially, for
he was one Of those men who seem to laugh at the
ravages Of time.

His brown—black locks curled as of yore without a
tram of silver, his keen eyes were as bright and as

piercing as ever, his form as muscular and erect.

He was attired in black, as was his wont, but as he
had, since takin command of the mine, given up
all his 8 orting abits, the elaborately ruffled shirt
was rep aced by a plain white one.

The night was warm, so he had laid aside his coat
and sat in his shirt-sleeves, a vest being generally
deemed a superfluous article Of clothing up in the
mining-regions.

Before rim was an uncurtalned window which
commanded a view of the entrance-gate to the
premises. The property of the mining company was
surrounded by a stockade fence, running in a semi-
circle from the river to the river again.

The Old Hat claim had been one of the first lodcs
discovered in that valley, and as at the time the In-
dians in the neighborhood had been decidedly ugly,
manifesting an intention of “wiping out“ the in-
truding whiteskins, the stockade a been erected
asasort of fort in which the settlers in the neigh-
borhood could take refu e, but the miners came into

I dian troubles that the hinges had

ank Of the river, a short distance ‘

 

forced to retire to the northern wilderness by the

: Oregon line.
TWELVE O‘ the night, and the silence Of the tomb l

The gates of the stockade were Open; in fact, they

been so seldom used since the days of the In-
rown rusty, and
it was a question if they could be s ut.

Talbot, puzzling over his task, raised his eyes and
allowed them to rest upon the moonlit space with-
out.

Strange thoughts were in his mind.

Just one year ago, that very day, he and Carlotta,
the daughter of Colonel Perkins, one of the prin-
cipal owners of the rrine, had pli hted their troth
but the colonel, with the strict not ons which he ha
ac hired in early life, objected somewhat to the
u on of the lovers on account of Talbot‘s sporting
proclivities, and so our hero was put upon proba-
tion. He was to assume the position of superintend-
ent of the mine and after a year had elapsed, if his
conduct was such as to comm nd him to the respect
of the community, the weddin was to take place.

In the interim the colonel an his daughter were to
reside in San Francisco, and it was expressly stipu-
lated that no communication Of any nature whatso-
ever was tO take place between the lovers.

And to this agreement both Carlotta and Talbot
had adhered scrupulously.

The year expired that. day, and according to the
understanding the Colonel and his daughter should
have arrived at Shasta Bar that morning, but they
had not come, although the other two partners in
the mine, Smith and Allcash, had taken a trip to San
Francisco for the purpose of transacting a little
business and it was arranged that all should return
together.

Not one of the party had arrived—no word had
been received. an( although the old saying holds
that “no news is good news,“ yet a presentiment
that something was amiss had come to Talbot. and
he could not shake it off. It was the old gambler's
su crstitiou, Of which, in .9 its of all his education,
Ta bot could not rid lrimse f.

“ Nary a dollar would I risk on the turn of a card
feeling as I do,” he murmured. “It is all folly, of
course—all imagination, and yet I never attempted
to run counter to the feeling without being made to
pay for it. She has not come, neither has she sent
me a word Of explanation, and yet I am as satisfied
she is not to blame—that shgs true to me—as I am
that yon moon shines upon the earth."

Hardly had the words passed his lips when a fe-
male figure rode up on a steed all flecked with foam,
and whose panting sides revealed that it had been

‘ pushed to its topmost speed.
the region in such num ens, that the red-men were i

It was Carlotta!

 

Talbot recognized her upon the instant, even be-
fore he caught sight of her face, for never could he
forget the outlines of the )mfect form.

Straightforward tower the office she came, at-
tracted by the light in the window, and evidently
perceiving Talbot.

She had changed greatly in the year; her face was
thinner, and the srgns Of care and anxiety were
plainly visible.

Talbot hastened to meet her, and the two came
face to face half-way between the house and the
gates.

“ Oh, Dick, dear Dick—I have kept faith—I am
here on the appointed day!“ she exclaimed, as she
fell, exhausted, upon his breast.

“ But what is the matter—why have on come
alone and at such an hour as this?" he as 'ed, as he
su‘pgorted her beautiful form in his strong arms.

‘ ou must prepare yourself to hear bad news,”
she replied, as soon as she could recover from her
emotion.

The remembrance of the presentiment which had
so weighed upon him came to Talbot at once; it was
more reality than imagination, after all.

“ i am prepared—always prepared,” he remarked
with a quiet smile, looking down into the beautiful
but troubled face, upturned to his. “ Bad news
lwill not worry me much so long as I retain your
ove.

“ And that will last while life remains 1" she cried,
impulsively. “ But such terrible things have oc-
curred since We parted. My father—you know his
Old infirmity—his passion for li uor?"

“Yes, but I thought he ha learned to restrain

himself—1 do not mean, to let liquor alone altogether,
but to slow on it so as not to hurt him."
_ “ So 1e did for a time, but for the last six months
he has been worse than ever, and now he has become
a perfect wreck. He is no longer in possession of
his senses, and has allowed himself to become the
tool of a man who hates you and persecutes me."

“ De Welcher l“ Talbot exclaimed. The name rose
readily to his lips, for back again to his memor
came the recollection of the scenes wherein the Ca -
ifornian had figured. He had once rescued Carlotta
from his rude familiarit on the road in the suburbs
of San Francisco, then ad baffled his game in the
mining-camp and finally driven him from the town.

If he had an enemy in the world, Dc Welcher
should be the man.

" You are right; it is that villain. He became in-
timate with my father some six months ago, despite
my warnings, and now so utterly broken is my fa-
ther that he has declared that I shall not wed you,
but must marry this vile man, who, he declares, is
rich enough to give me everything that the heart of
a woman can desire."

“The colonel must indeed be a total wreck if he
desires to break faith in this outrageous way."

“ Ah, but, Dick, you must not blame him! He is
like a little child, completely under the control Of
this rascaily schemer; he really does not know
what he is doing, although apparently in possession
of his senses."

“ But you are here with me now and we can laugh
to scorn your father‘s broken felt and the devices
of this crafty gentleman."

“ I have not told on all. De Welcher schemes
not only to make me is wife, but to take Vengeance
upon you. He has set his heart upon these two de-
sires, and has been working to accomplish them
ever since he left this neighborhood, about a year

0.”

“ He will find that neither one of the two things
will be easy to bring about, I fancy."

“ Do not underrate him - he will prove more dan-
gerous than you think. He is rich and utterly un-

 

 

A shudder of horror passed through the crowd as the executioner approached. Marble-like was Talbot’s face as he looked upon the fiery brand.

scru ulous. From my father he has bought neain
all his stock in this mine. and that. together with the
shares which he purchased in San Francisco, gives
him the controlling interest. By means of some
legal trick, which] do not understand, he has arrest-
ed Mr. Smith and Mr. Allcash in San Francisco, and
they are now in prison. De Welcher is at this mo-
ment in the town here, armed with the necessary
legal authority to seize the works, and he has raised
a Ody of armed men to assist him in case you Offer
resistance, which he feels sure you will do, and then
he hopes in the struggle to kill you.”

" ell. this is something of a ro rammel” ex‘
claimed Talbot, amazed. ‘ But he 5 right about one
thing. I will not give 11 possession here until I
receive the order rom gmith and Allcaslr, and if
force is attempted I reckon the hands here will
Stand by me."

“ Dick, ‘Oll haven‘t a man to back you; each and
all have , n bought by De Welcher’s gold. You
are here alone deserted by every one!”

CHAPTER II.
OLD PARDS.

AN expression of amazement appeared upon Tal-
b%tl’s face. He could hardly believe that it was pos-
sr e.

“ DO not doubt the truth of what I say!" she ex-
claimed. “ I know that it is a horrible plot, althou h
it does not seem that a man could be guiltv Of c-
liberately arranging such a fiendish trap. ut you
do not know this man as I have learned to know him.
He is capable of any wickedness. He has plenty of
money, wonderful litical power, and has been so
accustomed to havmg his own way that your bold—
ness in daring to interfere with his schemes has en-
raged him to such a degree that he has sworn to
have yourlife, no matter how great the cost.

“He has proceeded in the most careful manner,
too; for nearly a year he has been making prepara-
tions to strike the blow.

“ Have you not noticed that within the last five or
six months twenty or thirty strangers have taken
up their quarters in this camp? Men rude and
rough in their bearing and who seemed to have but
little to do, idling their time away and yet having
money upon which to live?"

“Yes; I have noticed it and wondered how the
fellows managed to get along. I thought at first
that they were gamesters who had flocked into the
Bar with the idea, as it was a flourishin camp, it
would be a good place for them to locatefinit I have
noticed that quite a number of them never touch a
card."

“ Each and every one of them is De Welcher‘s
man and depends for his support upon the money
paid him by this arch plotter.

“ He has colonized the town, so that when the
moment arrives for him to deal you a decisive blow
he will be able to call a small army to hi: assistance.

“ Every one is a picked man, specially selected by
De Welcher on account Of his fitness for the
purpose which he has in view. If you have noticed

hem you must have seen that there are few brawl-

ers and no drunkards among them, but nearly all
quiet, resolute men who can be depended upon to do
good work when the time comes. And not one Of
them either has any idea of the nature of the ser-
vice expected of them, except that they have been
told they may have fighting to do. Each man is
sworn to secrecy and although some Of them may
suspect that there are others in the camp on the
same errand as themat-lves, yet I doubt if any one
of them has any idea of the number enlisted."

“ Mr. De Welcher evidently has a high idea of my

rowess if he thinks he needs a quarter of a. bun-

d men to back his quarrel."

 

 

    

was-v. av
.5 ~ ‘

“ Ah, but that is not all!“ she exclaimed. “ With
him from Yreka comes the sheriff and his posse, a
halfldozen well-armed men. The plan of operations
is for the sheriff to summon you to surrender the
mine, and the demand is to be made in such an ar-
rogant way as to rouse your anger. In the absence
of Smith and Allcash De Welcher calculates that
you will refuse to surrender the propert , and so a
conflict will be precipitated which it rs intended
shall only end in your death. If you resist it can—
not end Otherwise, for there will be nearly forty
men against you.”

"Suppose I do not resist but yield to the de-
mand?’

“ Then ou will be disarmed by the sheriff’s men
and De elcher will denounce you as a cheating
gambler and call for lynch law that you may be ex-

iled from the camp; that will be the signal for

is hired bravos to act. They, of course, will follow
their leader; you will be seized, publicly whipped
and then driven from the cam ."

A fierce light gleamed in Talgot‘s eyes and he set
his teeth firme together for a moment.

“ \Vhipped. eh?" he remarked, “ whip d and ex-
pelled from the town. Well, that won (1 be a ven-
geance worth takin some trouble to obtain, and
yet my enemy woul be wiser far to kill me out-
fiight, for then I could never return to trouble

im."

“ But now that you have timely warnin you can
easily evade the danger. Soon the attac will be
made and long before that time you can be far
from ere.”

“ Carlotta, you are counseling the wisest course,
I know, but it is so hard to be false to the trust
confided to me—so hard to tamely fly, like the
veriest coward, before this scoundrel and his ras-
callv gang!"

“But what can you do here—a single man against
a host?“

“Ah. yes, that is true enough; one man against
forty cannot do much; now if I had two or three
good fellows to back my uarrel—"

“ Right you air, me ndlole dock!" cried a hoarse
voice. and in through the opening in the stockade
came a fat and greas fellow. armed to the teeth.

It was the veteran hummer, Joe Bowers, the irre-
pressible being who never worked, yet never went
iungry nor thirsty.

He tOOk off his hi h-crowned, dilapidated slouch
hat and made the la( y a ceremonious bow. .

“You must r‘ally ‘scuse me, miss. if I kinder
had to listen to a leetle of yer talk. I heercd vorces
as I reamulated along, and as I didn’t know ex-
ai-tlv ow things was I took the liberty of creeping
up for to see who it was a-chinnin‘.

“You needn‘t be afeard, miss, for it‘s all 0. K. i"
he continued. “I'm a reg‘lnr ole side pardner of
this hyer gentleman. My name is Bowers, the orig'-
nal ole Joe Bowers. I'm the ident'cal chap w‘ot they
writ the song ‘bout, rnebbe you’ve heercd it,

‘Oh, my name it is Joe Bowers
And from England I did come!‘

Thar’s ’bout four hundred more verses into it, but 1
never had much head for poetry anyway, but for all
that, I‘mthe right kind of a man to tie to. I reckon
me noble dook hyer will be willing to sw’ar to that!"
“ I‘ve always found on square," said Talbot...
“You betl” respon ed the bummer, impressrvely.
“Waal, miss, I heered ye alaying out the. pepper-
gram and I must allow you‘ve got it as straight as a
string. I‘m posted, 'er know ‘cos I’m one of the
ang. The head devrl engaged me at Yreka yester-
ay, and I jest arrove to-night. Thar was three, on
us got in—three old pards of yourn, Ca tain Dick,
w‘ot jest met by chance-‘ the usual way —in Yreka,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

all on us clean bu’sted—right down to bed-rook, and
we jumped at the hoppertunity for to put in a squar’
meal. as quick as a hungry trout for a gentle grass-
ho per.

‘PAnd though I say it w‘ot shouldn’t, three better
men never breathed this hyer Californianair.

“The boss w’ot hired us is a-holdi a meeting
down in the camp now. a-gittin‘ ready or to clean
you out up hyer, and the moment me and my pards
tumbled to the leetle game we ‘ lassed’ and went
out; no tackling Dick Talbot—ho d Iiijun Dick—in
ours, if you please, and the long and the short of the
matter is, if you keer to make a fight, hycr’s three
braves w’ot w ill stand by you till they turn their toes
up to the daisies!"

Then Bowers “gave a short, shrill whistle, there
was the sound of footsteps outside, and through the
gate of the utockade came a brawny red~haired, red-
bearded giant, roughly-clad, but well-armed“

“I‘m yer antelope!" he exclaimed, making for
Talbot with outstretched hand. “Gosh! Cap, if the
sight of you ain‘t ood for sore eyes then I don’t
want a cent! 011! t is makes me feel young ag‘in—
the old days come back] A ’in I raise my war-
whoop! I’m the biggest chic w’ot walks on two
legs west of the darned old Rockies! My name is
fl ht and bloody iiiassacree! I’m Dand Jim, the

an-from Red Dog, and don’t you forget t l”

And it was indeed the brawny old-time pard of In-
jun Dick who had thus unexpectedly made his ap-
pearance.

After the Red-Dogite. with dignified tread came a
tall and stately form wrapped from head to heel in
a tattered blanket. The massive head was sur-
mounted by a battered silk hat, so terribly the worse
for wear that one could hardly imagine that it had
ever been a glossy “ tile.”

“ Mud Turtle is a big chief!" he said, as the giant
stepped to one side so as to allow the Imlan to clasp
Dick’s welcoming hand. “ Many moons have come
and gone since he has met his white brother, but the
memory of the Blackfoot chief is like the bi sun—
it has no end. It is the snake chief‘s ‘ edge,’ et my
brother ‘see’ his bet and ‘chip’ in for all he is
worth. Mud Turtle will back his ame till the sun
grows old and the big pines touch t e sky!”

“ Miss, how does this h 'er strike you fur a re-in‘
forcement?” Joe Bowe s cried, triumphantly.
“Forty men ’g‘in‘ one is mighty big odds, but when
four men of our kidney put our backs ag’in’ the
wall, it will take an army to boost us out!”

“ Right you air, you durned old fat rascal!” Dandy
Jim cried, admiringly.

“ The cuss w’ot is running the game calculates to
ketch our old pard a-napping, but bold Cap’n Talbot
has lots of pards lying around loose, and, like the
feller in ancient history w’ot sowed the dragon’s
teeth, all he has to do is to raise a yell and armed
men will come right up outen the ground, ready and
willing to stand by him until the last cuss is hung.”

At this mini. another figure appeared upon the
scene, gliding through the o ning in the Stockade
with the stealthy step of a g ost.

It was a medium-sized man all muffled up in a
dilapidated overcoat, and with a shockingly bad
slouch hat pulled down over his e es.

Taken oomlpletely by surprise y the unexpected
appearance, ick and his friends grasped their wea-
pons, but the new-comer put a sto to the hostile
demonstrations by whipping off his at and display-
ing the well-known features of the Chinaman,Lee

ng.

“Allee light!” he cried; “ me come; fightee too,
heap good, allee same Melican man!” and to give
due effect to his words he produced a pair of heavy
revolvers which he flourished in the air.

" Wushee-Washee ” had got an inkling of what was
going on, and he had come to aid the only white man
wholliad ever made an impression upon his peculiar
nature—the only Christian who had ever done him
an act of kindness.

CHAPTER III.
AN ADVANCE IN muon.

Tm: irrepressible bummer could not repmu a
shrill yell of delight.

“ Duru my cats! if things ain’t working when even
a Chinaman is a willing for to chip in and take a
hand in the fun!"

“ You see, Carlotta, I am not quite so friendless as
this sharp who seeks revenge upon me supposes,"
Talbot remarked.

“ But is there a chance with this slender force that
you can repel the threatened attack?" the girl asked,
anxiously.

“ Oh, yes, with such men as these, well armed
and knowi how to make ever shot tel], aided b
the shelter t at we have here, t 0 Odds are decide;
ly in our favor, even though the attacking force out-
number us ten to one."

“ Besides, marm,” put in Bowers, “ the boys won’t
expect sich a warm recept’ as we’ll give ’em. The ’11
kinder look on it as a sort of a hurrah picnic, ut
when we send the leaden pills a-singiug around their
ears, they’ll be better galoots than I think they air,
if the stand u and take their fodder with a grin."

“ ou bet 3’ cried Dandy Jim sententiously,
while the Indian nodded and the Chinese grinned
assent.

SHeaven keep you from harm!” exclaimed the

y.

“ When my time comes I must go, Carlotta, and
not before, ’ Talbot observed, in his quiet way.
“ But the hour for the attack draws on apace, and
although I should be glad to keep you here with me,’
yet I know you had best be gone.”

The maiden bowed assent: Talbot conducted her
to her horse and assisted her to mount.

When fairly in the saddle she. took the reins, then
bending low withasudden impulse she threw her
arms around Talbot’s neck and imprinted a fervent
kiss u on his lips.

“W iatever happens I am yours, and yours only!”
she cried. “ If you live, I Will be your wife, no mat-
ter if the whole world stands between. If you fall,
I will avenge on as the Corsican women avenge
their lovers w en suddenly cut off b treacherous
assassination. This is my vow. and lyswear it be-
fore high Heaven!"

A warm clas of the hand and the lovers parted.

Talbot remained motionless until the hoof-strokes
died away and then he returned to the stockade.

“Now, s, we must get to work,” he said.
“We haven]; much time to prepare before the
wolves will be down upon us. and we mustn’t
waste a minute. The first thing is to close the

ates.‘

g The pa . went at this task with a will, but; found
it no easy ob, for the hinges were rusty and for a
time refused to work.

At last, however, the lponderous gate was shut
and barred and then by albot’s direction a barrel
was laced on end by the gate so as to afiord a
stan for him to address the assailants when they
made their appearance.

“We‘ll give them fair warning, boys, although
they don’t really deserve it,” he remarked. “But
we’ll fight them fair and square; we’ll let them un-
derstand that we are armed, prepared for the at-
tack, and mean business, every time' then, if they
persist in coming on, their blood will be upon their
own heads.”

The rest thought this was about the way the affair
should be managed. and Joe Bowers gave voice to
the opinion by exclaiming:

“Squar’ asa die, bet all you’ve got on it! and if
we can’t salivate this hyer crowd of or’nery roost-
ers, then we ought to be kicked to death by

cripples!”

a bot’s plan was simple enough. After warning
the attacking force that he meant fight and that
some one would get hurt if the attack was )ersisted
in. he intended to ambush his party be fine] the
buildings, which were only about a hundred feet
from the stockade wall, so, when the assailants
clambered over the fence, it would be an easy inat-
ter for the defenders of the fort to make every shot
tel], thanks to the moonlight.

There were five of them, each armed with a air
of revolvers, either six or seven-shooters, so t at
they had between sixty and seventy shots, and T -
bot felt satisfied that at such a point-blank range
his followers would not be apt to waste many
bullets.

If the assailants succeeded in storming the wall
then a retreat was to be made into the shanty which
served as an office. It was a stoutly-constructed
buildiu. isolated from the rest, and would serve
admira 1E for a citadel.

Talbot ad calculated shrewdly. having had con-
siderable experience in such affairs as this; he
thought the chances were good that half of the at-
tacking force would be disabled before the wall
could be surmounted and then. if the attackers had
stomach for more fight, after such a blood lesson,
which he considered to be extremely dou tful, he
felt sure that the first assault they made upon the
shanty would be repulsed in so bloody a fashion
that, unless they were more than men, they would
seek safety in flight.

Hardly had all reparation been made when the
Indian, who had een placed upon the lookout an-
nounced the approach of the attacking force.

There were crevices between the lo of the fence
through which the besieged could 00k, and each
one hastened to secure a convenient peep-hole.

B this time the new-comers were in sight, and
Ta] t’s quick eyes, used to such calculation, decid-
ed that there were at least forty men in the troop,
and quite a number of them were armed with guns,
for he could plainly distinguish the glitter of the
moonbeams on the barrels.

These men were in the advance, and with them
was Do Welcher and a tall, brawnv, long-bearded
fellow, whom Talbot guessed to be the sheriff.

“ That is the sherifi’s posse.” he murmured, “ but
their guns will not be of much use, for this fight
must be settled at close quarters.”

The “army ” came to a sudden halt.

De, Welcher noticed that the gates of the stockade
were closed and his suspicions were at once excited.

He. called to some of the men behind him, they
{lil‘i'lllt'OvL and Talbot smiled bitterly when he re-

cognized that these fellows were the bands who had
been employed in the works.

Welcher had planned with devilish cunning
and had it not been for the devotion of Carlotta an
the fortunate accident of the three pards taki ser-
vice with the arch-plottcr, Talbot would have n
deliVered, bound hand and foot, into the power of
his enemy. _ .

After a brief consultation With the workmen De
Welcher again gave the signal to advance. The
closed gate puzzled him—he was at that some-
thing was wrong, but concluded to push forward,
anyhow.

When the intruders got within a thousand feet of
the wall, Talbot jumped upon the ham] and rose
from behind the stockade, greatly to the IStonish-
ment of the attacking force, who halted Instantly
without waiting for orders.

“Gentlemen, what is the meaning of this hyer?“
the superintendent cried.

There wasa whispered consultation between De
Welcher and the s eriff, and then that individual
stepped forward.

I e was a stranger to Talbot, personally, but he
had often heard of the man; the reputation of the
ofiicial was an unsavory one, and there were many
in the district who did not hesitate to say that Tim
Benefast, as the sheriff was called was as big a
rascal as any criminal that he had ever laid the
“clamps” of the law upon.

The man’s appearance did not belie his reputation,
and he looke every inch 3. rufi‘ian as he stepped
forward in the moonlight after being instructed by
the Californian.

“ I reckon you’re the feller I want, Mr. Man !” ex-
claimed the ofiicia], drawing some legal-looking pa—
)er from his pocket and waving them in the air.
‘My name is Tim Beuefast; mebbe you’ve lieercd
of me. I‘m the sheriff, and if so be as how you are
Dick Talbot, Superintendent of the Old Hat mine,
I‘ve got a leetle document hyer that I should like to
have you cast your eyes over.”

“ I’m very much obliged to you, Mr. Sheriff, but I
don’t care to bother myself with it. I’ve about given
up reading, and especially light literature. Let some
0 your friends yonder take a back at it; among so
great a crowd there must be some who like to read,”

albot answered.

The sheriff scowled, for the reply anno ed him,
and De Welcher seized upon the oppo unity to
whisper in his ear:

“The rascal is making game of you; better come
to action as soon as possib 0.”

“See hyer, young fellow, I don’t want; any chin-
ning out of you!" the sheriff cried, roughly. “ In
my official capacity I have come to take )ossession
of this hyer property, and I want you to ust out of
it as live] as possible."

“ By w at right do you make such a demand 1’"

“ An order from the court; hyer it is,” and the of-
ficial stepped forward to hand the paper to Talbot,
but that gentleman brought him to a. sudden halt by
leveling his revolver full at his rson.

“Go slow!” Talbot cried. “ don’t knowwhether
§ou are the sheriff or not, and I don’t care a copper.

on haven't served me with any paper, and I don‘t
intend you shall. l’m in possession of this property,
and I‘m going to hold it. I give you fair warning,
if you advance I will drive a ball through your

edit."

“ Durn me if he ain’t showing fight!” cried the of-
ficial. amazed. “ Look hyer, you ignoramus! don’t
you see the gang I’ve got with me? What chance
do you think you stand, all alone, against our
crowd?"

“ Oh, but I’m not alone; I knew you were coming,
and so I called in my friends, and I reckon we can
make it lively for you. Yell, boys!"

And yell the four pards did with a vim that woke
the echoes of the neighboring hills.

CHAPTER IV.
A TERRIBLE noon.

Tun attackers looked at each other in amazement.
This discovery was entirely unex .

De Welcher had made a brief speech to the crowd
before starting, explaining the purpose of the expe-
dition, so that the “ army ” expected that a single
man would be all they would encounter: they had
entered into the affair with the idea that the capture
of the mine would be an easy matter, but now cir-
cumstances had assumed a more serious turn.

The men within the stockade had made so much
noise that those without came to the conclusion that
bot had ten or fifteen at his back at the least.

The sheriff, although something of a bully and
much given to bragging, yet had a deal of bull-dog
courage, and was not the kind of a man to bac
down without a ht.

“ I say, Do We Cher!“ he exclaimed, “ thar ain‘t
much use to waste your breath on this fellow. He’s

oinz to be ugly, and seeing as how he’s got back-
ng, he ain’t a-going to be talked into giving up this

b er mine peaceab y, so the quicker we wade in to
claim him out the better.”
“My own idea exactly,” the plotter replied, se-

cret! delighted with the way matters were progress-
ing, or a. conflict wherein Dick might be con tiered
was precisely what he wanted. “ Better give 'm a
little warning though, so as to have the right on our
16:36:; we want to do everything legally and in order,
ow. ‘
“Sart'in! that’s the kind of a man I am."
“Say Cap. how much will it be worth to the coon
w‘ot plugs this aloot?” asked a brawny fellow,
dressed in a com p ete suit of buckskin, looking like
a hunter, who had drawn near so as to overhear the
conversation.
“A hundred dollars,” replied De Welcher, care-
lessly, for he was not impressed with the man’s
looks, and the oldefashioned revolvers that he carried
were certainlyléiot dangerous-looking weapons.

“ I reckon t t arter you gi’n him the warning, if
he don‘t throw up the sponge to once, he is anybody’s
mea eh?” queried the man.

“ 1, yes, that’s according to Hoyle!” the sheriff
replied, whereupon the man grinned and fell back
among the crowd.

“ Now see hyer!" exclaimed the burly official, ad-
dressing Talbot, “we don’t want to have any fuss
with ou, and I jest want you to remember that I
am t e sheriff proceeding in the discharge of my
duty. I have been directed to take possession of
these hyer premises, and hearin that you were in-
clined to be ugly once in a whi e, I brought a big
force along, so you wouldn’t have any excuse for
cutting u rusty ’bout it. You can’t hope to make a
successfu fight, and so I give you fair warning to et
out. If you attempt to resist, I sha’n‘t answer or
the consequences.‘

“ I have been intrusted with the charge of this
property, and until I receive orders from the owners
to give it u I shall retain possession even at the risk
of life," Ta bot replied.

“ The property is in the hands of the law now:
Smith and Allcash are in jail and likelyto be put
through a course of sprouts afore they get throu h.
For the last time, I demand you to surrender til:
pro rt peaceabilfv."

“ re use. and you attempt to use force I shall
resist by all the means in my power."

“ {)3 you dare to defy me.” yelled the sherifl.

‘6 am!!!

Hard] had the words been spoken when the sharp
crack ofV a rifle rung out on the still air.

Talbot with a gasp tumbled forward, pitched over
the edge of the stockade and with a heavy thud
came to the ground outside.

“ I reckon I’ll take that leetle hundred dollars, if
you please!” cried the man in buckskin, rising to

's feet, rasping a still-smoking rifle in min hand.

He 119.5 knelt down and taken aim )ver a tree-
stump so as to make sure of his shot.

“ I hit him plum-center, right in the forehead
over the eyes, ‘ he continued. “ ’Tain’t for noth-
inathat I am called the Boss Shot of the Willam-
ct ."

A thrill of horror ran through the crowd, rough,
rude men though the were.

It was a horrid do !

For a moment the pards within the stockade
stared like statues, and then Bowers, the quickest-
witted of all, spoke:

“The jig is up, boys; they’ve plug ed him for
good and all; we can’t do him any by making
a fight; none of ther gang have seen us, so the best
thing we kin do is to retreat; we kin sneak out at
the back, skin round and jine them; then, by keep-
in our eyes open, we kin spot every man w’ot had
a and in it, and when the time comes we kin make
’em cuss the day they tackled our pard."

The advice was , the rest nodded assent and
then like hosts g ided away;

After albot’s fall De elcher and the sheriff
consulted for a moment, and then decided upon an
immediate advance, thinkigg the defenders of the
lwogks would be disc' ourag by the death of their

ea er.

“Come on, boys, we’ve got ’em now!” yelled the
official as be rushed toward the stockade.

Boldly the crowd came on inspired by the ex-
ample of the sheriff although they eisripected each
instant to hear the whizzing of bullets, nging about
their cars.

But- the stockade was reached and the gates forced
open without a sign of resistance.

The defenders had disaggeared, and if with their
own ears the attackers h not heard the yells of
defiance they would not have believed but that Tal-
gtlit,falone and single-handed, had attempted to hold

e ort.

While the sherifl went inside to take legal pos-
session. De Welcher proceeded to examine t e body
of his foe, followed by a crowd of curious souls, and
then came an unexpected discovery.

The boast of the marksman was not made good
by the circumstances of the case.

The ball had not pierced the forehead, but had
creased the. top of the head.

Talbot was not dead, only stunned.

De Welcher thrilled wit fierce joy. His enemy
was in his hands. a helpless prisoner.

After ordering Talbot to be secured he hurried to

 

the sheriff and explained how matters stood.

 

 

 

“I’m going to put him throu h acourse of sprouts
that he will remember to his ying day," the Cobb
fornian exclaimed. “And, of course as a sheriff
ought not to be mixed up in the adair, you just
kee shady until it is over. ’

T e omcia] winked; he had been well paid and
was read to do exactly as De Welcher ordered.

The Cafifornian returned to his prisoner and the
line of march was at once taken ugefor the town.

In the center of the camp, right fore the door of
the hotel, they halted.

A lynch court was at once organized and De
Welcher chosen judge. All had been arranged be-
forehand.

Talbot had been restored to conscionsness, al-
though suffering so severe] from the wound he had
received that he could hardly stand.

The accusers stood forward, perjured villains
fready to swear to anything, prov1ded they were pai
or .

They swore to all sorts of things. Talbot was
everything that was vile, a thief, a gambler—4i des-
perado of the worst kind.

“What have you to say to these fearful accusa-
tions?” De Welc er asked, luring upon the risoner
with 9 es that fully revea ed how the C fornian
gloated' at the revenge now seemingly within his

gras .

“ It is all a foul lie!” Talbot replied, feebly for
he was so weak that he could hard y speak. ‘You
are my enemy—you have sworn to be revenged up-
on mc—these men are your tools, I am here, helpless
and alone, without a. friend to aid me, yet I laugh at
your malice!”

Quite a number of the inhabitants of the town had
been aroused by this time and had joined the
throng in the street, but although many of them
believed Talbotto be innocent of the foul charges
brought against him, yet Dc. Welcher held the town
Evith so large a force that they did not dare to inter-

ere.

The Californian, fearing that the townspeople
might pluck up courage. enough to protest against
the ogitrage, hurried matters forward as rapidly as

ossi 1e.
IDAssuming a stern aspect, he declared it was the
verdict of the court that Talbot was guilty of all the
crimes imputed to him and that such a punishment
must be inflicted upon liim as would be a. warning to
all other evil~doers to avoid that section of coun-
try.

“ This man has gone on in his career of crime un-
checked for years," he declared, in conclusion,
"and in order to ut a stop to his operations, it is
the sentence of this court t at he be branded on the
forehead with a crimson cross, so that wherever he
may go in the future, and whatever he may call
himself, he ma be known and avoided.

“ Brand me like a felon!" cried Talbot, infuriated,
and strugglin . weak as he was, in the grasp of the
men who he] him.

“ Ay, like the felon that you are!” cried De
l’Velcher, in reply. “ Strip off his shirt and bind him
to yonder tree, and then after he has been branded,
he is to receive fifty lashes with a rawhide, and then
be turned loose with the warning never to return to
this section under pain of death I”

The command was immediately carried out.

Talbot was bound to the cottonwood that stood
near the door of the hotel.

Then the executioner made his appearance, hear-
ing the red-hot iron:

De Welclm- had given instructions to his tool to
heat the brand the moment the trial 11.

A shudder of horror passed through the crowd as
the executioner up reached the helpless man. .

Marble-like was albot’s face as he looked upon
the fiery brand.

(7b be continued.)

 

 

JOHN Ag) NAN.

urnnncunu.

A worthy couple, John and Nan,
Had braved all sorts of weather,
And for as friends or foes could scan,
Lived uletly together,

But how I: happened none could say,
For John was quite insane

About Creation’s history
And the wife of vicious Cain.

He oft amused an idle throng,
B! lunatic orations,
An every smile, or burlesque song.
Received as commendation
Society ronounced a ban
On all ‘ silly riot,
And often questioned how dune Nu
Could listen and be quiet.

At length her patience did begin
To uestion moral reason,

And bancy said—" John, as a man
You‘re much op ost. ] to treason:

What think you 0 Lord Thomas Yates,
Just crowed the briny Ocean?

He aims to take the United States,
And rule it to his notion."

John was a good re ublicau,

Who never sold 111% ticket,
- And Iran any man
Who won d desert his picket.
" An Englishman!” he cried; “come here,

To Freedom's fields of stor .9

He’d better save his bacon. car,
And cater for Victoria.

“ And any but a perfect dunce,

Might know the least endeavor

To mar Columbia’s , at once
Would sink his soul orev‘er.”
id N an—“ You reason well of late;
I’m pleased with your opinion,

For I compared you to Lord Yates,
About God’s good dominion.”

John took the hint, and be it said
A little to his credit,

Before he sought his snowy bed
His Bible took, and read it.

Most carefully he pondered o’er
Creation’s changing beauty;

He learned to trust; and seek no more
Than just to his duty.

Nor’ West Nick,

THE BORDER DETECTIVE ;
03»
Dan Brown’s Fight for Life.

BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR,
AUTHOR or “ swnn'r mmax,” “OLD ’49,”
“ REVOLVER non,” no, no.

CHAPTER XVIII.
A SCARLET MYSTERY.

“ Wnoonav, boys! I knowed I couldn’t be so
mighty fur out o’ the way—yender’s the old
split-top cedar, an’ jest beyond that ag’in we’ll
find the old shanty! ’

“ We ain’t doin’ any more hollerin’ onth we
see what we’ve got to holler fer!” doggedly re-
torted another voice, in the tone of one who had
often been the victim of misplaced confidence.
“ Ef ever you ketch this chicken out huntin’ for
deer in these bills ag’in, jest knock me on the
head an’ plant me whar the wolves won’t get
p’izened tryin’ ter swaller me!”

“ Things has gone sorter crooked, sure
enough—-

“Crooked ain’t no word fer it!” in supreme
disgust. “Not so much as a deer-track in a
all-day tramp. One squar’ fall over the durned
stumps au’ domicks fer each rod 0’ ground kiv-
ered. Not a durned mouthful o’ grub ’ce 1: bad
whisky, an’ you must tumble down an bu’st
wide open the only bottle which had a drop left
in it. fer snake-bites!” '

“ Waal, it’s mighty hard, I know,” lau hing-
ly, “ but thar’s a good squar’ drink ahe 0’ us
now, so nigh that I kin e eua’most smell it from
here. We’ll be all right then—e. open, easy
road leadin’ straight to Rocky Bar—”

“ It’s all moonshine! They ain’t no bottle
thar. The ain’t no shanty—never was—never
will be. urned of I believe thar is any sech
place as Rocky Bar. It’s all a snare an’ a delu-
sion, an’ we’ll jest wake up to git fooled, like it
hes bin ever sence we struck out on this fool
pros ct.”

“ no thing we can be sure of, anyway—
worse luckl” impatiently muttered the third
member of the hunting-party, “and that is. that
Grumbling Ginger hasn’t bitten 03 his tongue
in any of his tumbles. Do give us a rest, old
man.

“ Ef he spits out my other grumble, divil the
sup 0’ the bottle shill he have when we hitches
onto it. Whooray—didn’t I tell ye so? Ain’t;
that the shanty? Ain’t thar a bottle 0’ the fines.
mount’in dew jest waitin’ fer us to kiss it in
tharl An’ you contrairy critters throwin’ it up
to me that was lost, au’ couldn’t find my way
nowhars! Au’ I all the ti no leadin’ of ye

 

 

 

straight as a die to the spot wbar glory awaits
ge—glory o’ the sort that tickle: a man clean
own to the tips 0’ his toes, an’ makes him want
to climb up a rainbow jest fer the fun 0’ slidin’
dowm the other side!”
“ That ain’t the shanty—or of it is, somebody
has bin tbnr ahead 0’ us an’ found the bottle on"

dmened it dry—”

“Look er. Ginger, none 0’ that. Don’t ye
go to croa in’ tint-a-way, or blamed of 'I don’t

lay I was a ’stiller an’ run you through it!

’ve sot my teeth on hevin‘ a good, squar’ drink

afore I 0 any furder, an’ of that bottle has
mizzled, ’ll squeeze enough 0’ the extry juice
out 0’ you fer tryin’ to knock our ’ticipations
hi her’n a kite—I will, sure !”

The trio were rather more than two—thirds
drunk already. Early that morning they had
left Rocky Bar, armed with rifles and side-
arms, bound to bring in a deer, if only to prove
their pretensions as mighty hunters before they
took up the pick and drill as being more profit-
able methods of exercise.

They had supplied themselves with more
liquid than dr ammunition, and as a natural
consequence, t ey found little ame. Mishap
after mishap befell them. They ost their way
among the hills. The had nothing to eat.
lVater was scarce, : 11 their fatigue led them
to use up their whisky much more rapidly than
they had counted on doing. Then came the
crowning misfortune, already hinted at by the
Grumbling Ginger. Au unlucky stumble broke
the bottle which they had been holding in re—
serve, and they were left as the sun sunk be-
hindnthe hill without a. particle of “ snake medi-
cme.

But every cloud has its silver lining, and Wil-
kins gave vent to a ell of triumph as a forgot-
ten fact came into his mind. A Week or so be-
fore, as he hastened to e lain, he had lost a
quart flask of whisky. Hal drunk at the time,
he had been unable to find it, but now, in this
emergency his memory ew clear, and he
knew that he had hidden 1!: in an old shanty
some three or four miles from Rocky Bar, where
it no doubt was now awaiting them.

Cross-questioning him only deepened his con-
fidence, and as soon as they could get their
bearings, the trio struck out for the cache, and
though they strayed widely, at times, they
finall came out near the cabin, as detailed.

ypausing in the moonlighted road long
enough to utter the solemn threat against his
grumbling companion, Wilkins lunged forward
and thrust the door open, blun eriug across the
threshold, uttering a surl curse as he stumbled
audlneurly fell at full length over some ob-
stac e.

“Eyes wide open tight, mates!” he shouted,
with an angry curse. “Some low~dowu cuss
hes jumped our claim, but ef he’s got drunk on
my whisky, dumed of I don’t let it out 0’ his
skin with the p’int o’ my butcher—I will, sure
as shootin’!”

“ Strike a. light! We’ll take him on the jum
if he tries to run away, or shows his teeth!"
cried Matuoy.

A hollow groan broke upon their hearing, so
full of misery, of wretcheduess, that Wilkins
made one leap and crossed the threshold of the
cabin, comin in violent contact with his mates,

 

who grapp] with him using their fists and
feet with drunken fury, taking him for the in-
truder.

“We got the cuss—molt l”

Down in a heap the trio went together, a

curse of anger burstln from Wilkins as be
dealt Gin er a b10w in (’30 stomach that fairly
knocked t 0 wind out of him for the time.
“ Durn yer for two easy idjits!” he snarled,
tearin himself locus and scrambling to his feet.
“ Cain 1: ye tell a white man from a spook? Fer
two cents I’d w’ar’yo one out ag’inst the other
tell ye cain’t see—

“ Help—for the love of mercy, help!” came a
gasping, husky voice from the interior of the
cabin, and most effectually putting an and to
the narrel between the hunters.

“ me out an’ show {guinelf of ye ain’t a
dead critter !” splattered ilkins, drawing a re-
volver, but standing his ground. “ Who be ye,
an’ what’s the matter?"

“ Tim Toplift—so nigh murdered thar ain’t
no fun in it! They’s another dead man in here!
Who ’re you?”

A ghastly, blood~stained face showed itsclf at
the door, plainly visible in the clear moonlight,
and a cry of amazement burst simultaneously
from the lips of the three half-drunken hunters
as they recognized the foreman of the Jealous
Girl, well kn0wn to them all.

“ Who did it? Whar is they?” demanded
Wilkins with a swift glance around them, mov-
ing $uic’kl into the shadows.

‘ on’t save me, boys—fer the love of heaven
don’t run an’ leave me here no longer with this
cold meat!” cried Toplift, and he dra ed him-
self across the threshold. “ He’s gone orig ago
—thoy ain’t no danger—don’t run away an’
leave a pore devil what cain’t help hisself—”

“ Not a bit of it, mate!” responded Wilkins,
now nearly sobered. “ We was jest on the look-
out fer snags. We'll stick to ye ontel you’re
right eend up, bet your life!”

‘ Who did it? What for?” asked Matney.

“ Git me away from this hole—git me down to
town, fust. It was a hellish trick—an’ me work-
in’ the flesh off 0’ my four bones to carve him!
But I’ll git even—I’ll git even!”

“ The pore critter’s clean loony,” muttered
Wilkins, in a low tone. “ You two take a little
scoot ’round to see of thar ain’t nobody hidin’
nigh, while I strike as light an’ look into the
shanty. Somebody dead, he says. That’s bin
bloody black doins goin’ on here, an’ we must
find out all we kin afore the scent grow: too
cold. Scoot, an’ keep all eyes 0 n !”

Gin er and Matney imme lately obeyed,
while ’ilkius hastily gathered a few dry twigs
which he ignited, and passin over the prostrate
form of Tim Toplift, ente the cabin.

A ghastly sight met his gaze, and he started
back with a low cry of horror and indignation
as he saw what it had been over which he had
stumbled but a short time before.

Lying in the center of the one small room, flat
upon his back, with face upturned and arms
flung out as though in the agony of sudden
death. lay a corpse. A little pool of coagulated
blood rested upon his bosom, marking where a.
long, keen blade had probed his heart. A fright-
ful gash showed across his throat, more than
half severing the neck, telling how sure the cold-
blooded assassin had done his work.

It was all that remained of Arthur Ovelman!

Wilkins staggered back and out of the cabin,
ghe crackling torch dropping from his trembling

ngers.

“ It’d sicken a hog!” he muttered, as his two
mates came out from the shadows, satisfied that
the murderer or murderers had fled from the
scene of this damnable crime. “ I ain’t no
chicken, but ’peared like I’d hev to throw up my
boots ef I stopped thar another minnit!”

“ Who is it? Anybody we know?” asked
Matney, with the low, awed tones which come
so natural to all when brought faceto face with
such a deed of blood.

“ The old man who tuck 'part in the rumpus
down in town last night—the one as tuck away
the gal,‘ye know.”

“ Sure he’s crossed the divide?”

“ Take a squint in thar. an’ you w‘on’t need to
ax that!” muttered Wilkins, with a shudder.
“So dead that of he’d ot more lives than a cat,
the wouldn’t ’a’ gone afe way ’rouud!”

‘ A drink, mates!” g d Toplift, raising his
head and trying to drag himself toward them.
“ Some whisky, of ye got it. My head’s a-split-
tin’ open, an’ I’m breathin’ fire—”

The trio interchanged glances, then Wilkins
said:

“It’s got to be did. That’s whisky in tbnr,
an’ though I’d rutber step over a heap o’ p’izen
rattlers, we got to hev it for the pore cum.”

“We must see how thin look, anywa to
tell them when we get back?) camp.” said t-
ney, gravely. “It can’t rest here. Blood calls
for blood. and while we’re gone, somebody may
coine back to make ’way with the body.”

“ Scratch up stuff for a li ht, then. We’ll
take a look all in a heap. T at whisky we’ve
got to have—fer him I”

Working with silent energy, they soon col-

 

lected stuff for torches, and entered the cabin
t r. In silence. they gene-d upon the laur-
l‘ib night, then Wilkins crossed over to the fur-
ther corner, tearing aside some dirt and mus,
unearthing the flask of liquor Mliiih had been
the means of their making this Important dis-
covery.

“SIB ef you kin diskiver any si -n to tell
ng’inbt them undid the bloody job-l’ i look after
Toplif‘.”

"They ain’t no use—Tim must lino“ who it
was,” said Ginger, hastily beating a ietrn-ht
from the ghostly scene.

Wilkins ' ve the suffering man a diiitk if
whisky, an the ardent spirits seemed to put
new life into '8 veins. But to In 11‘ ques'
tions he shook '3 head, only on his:

“ Not now—wait'cntel we gig down to town.
Then I’ll tell the little 1‘ know when we see who
it is as takes the lead in the bloody business.”

Wilkins rudely bandaged the wound upon
Toplift’s skull, giving him the flask of liquor to
use as he saw fit, and by the time his task was
done, the wounded man, thanks to the whisky,
was able to walk. And leaving the corpse of
Arthur Ovelman lying in its gore, they took up
the trail to Rocky Bar, ( ager to tell their tragic
tale and set the avengers of blood upon the
track of the criminal.

Time and again they filed to get Toplift to
tell them all he knew concerning the strange
affair, but the man kep: his lips obstinately
closed, and they began to suspect that there
would be more difficulty in getting at the truth
of the matter than they had at first belieVed.

At length the town was reached, and though
Toplift faintly objected, the three hunters led
him into the saloon run by St. Clair Guthrie,
where the knew the largest audience would be
found at that hour.

“Drap your keerds, gents !” cried Wilkins, in
a loud tone. “Thor’s a heap more ’portant
business on hand jest now—”

“ What do you mean, sir ?” sternly demanded
St. Clair Guthrie, turning in his chair, a cocked
revolver gleaming in his white hand. “ If you
think to raise any disturbance—”

“ Putt up your weepon, boss. Thar’s bin
bloody murder did, an’ it’s got to be ’vestigated,
keerds or no keerds—”

A chorus of cries and questions cut the hunter
short, and it was some little time before he
could make himself heard amid the confusion.
But as soon as he uttered the name of Arthur
Ovelman, whose connection with the strange
and exciting events which had stirred Rock
Bar to its very foundations had rendered all in-
terested in him, silence fell over the crowd, and
his story was rapidly told.

“ We left the re old feller out yander, part
beca’se we coul n’t tote him in, part heea’se we
thought it best to leave everything jest as we
foun it, ontel a committee 0’ you gents could
take a squint at it all. We couldn’t find no
sign to tell who did the bloody murder, but
here’s 'fim Toplift, who kin tell the hull thing,
of I ain’t wide 0’ my guess.”

With his bare, bloody bands head and
scarlet-streaked face, Tim To li t stood there
the cynosuro of all e es as t 0 three hunters
drew a little back. is eyes were downcast,
and there was a. dogged look upon his face
which spoke volumes to those among the crowd
who knew him best.

“ Tell what you know, my good fellow,” said
St. Clair Guthrie, in a soft, conciliating voice,
after a moment’s hesitation as though waiting
for some other to take the direction of matters.
“You are among friends, now, and can speak
free] .” ‘

“ hey was murder done. The old gent was
killed. That’s all I kin tell you about it,” said
Toplift, slowly.

fler glint came into the eyes of the gam-
bler as he heard this unexpected answer. A
mutter of angry astonishment ran through the
crowd. There was danger brewing for Tim
To lift, and none knew this better than him-
selg but the dogged expression only deepened
upon his face.

“ Don’t be a blame fool, Tim!” muttered Wil-
kins, in his ear. “ Tell all you know, an’ that
in a hurry, or they’ll begin to think that you
bed a finger in the pie yourself—an’ when they
once git started in that track, your neck’ll grow
9. feet afore they let up on pullin’ the rope—”

“ Back, there!” cried St. Clair Guthrie, stern-
ly, again drawmg his revolver and threatening
Wilkins. “ Let him tell his own story without
your help. There’s some mystery in this affair,
and. since it has been crowded upon me, I’ll
probe it to the very bottom, let the lightning
strike where it will! ‘

" Once more, Mr. Toplift, who killed Arthur
Ovelman?”

“ How kin I tell what I don’t know!” sullen]
growled the foreman of the Jealous Girl. “
know that he was killed—I know that somebody
shot me—an’ that’s all I do know, ontel these
gents come along an’ found us."

A portly figure thrust itself through the
cr0wd, and came to a pause midway between
St. Clair Guthrie and Toplift.

“ Possibly I can throw some ii ht on this mat-
ter, entlemen,” said Colonel rdon, with a.
blan bow and smile.

“ If you know the criminal. name him !”
sharply uttered the gambler. “ This is no time
to stand on ceremony.”

“ I am ignorant of the name—J

“Then why crowd in here?” a little impa-
tient] .

“ on are too hasty, my dear sir,” said the
colonel, with a bow of injured di‘ ity. “ Though
I do not know who the crimiu may be, yet I
can give some important information which
may set you on the right track.”

“Out with it, then—and be as brief as your
-—your nature will let you,” added St. Clair
Guthrie, checking himself, and substituting
words very different from those which ha
risen to his tongue’s end.

The pompous colonel looked highly indignant,
and there were signs of an explosion, w on a
growing muttering among the impatient crowd
warned him not to tax them too far. Choking
down his anger at the cavalier manner in which
the mbler treated him, he spoke ra id! :

“ his afternoon, at about two ocloc , this
man, Timothy Topliftksame to my place of
business, asking to see . Ovelman on import-
ant business. According to instructions left me,
I directed him to the rooms occupied by the
gentleman. and a few minutes later he, Toplift,
came down-stairs again and told me that Mr.
Ovelman wanted a good horse saddled for his
use at once. I had scarcely given the order
when the gentleman himself came oown and
told me that he was going to meet Dan Brown
on business connected with the Jealous Girl.”

“ You are ositive ou understood him!” de-
manded St. lair Gut rie, his blue eyes glitter-
ing like those of a serpent whm coveted rey is
just before it, helplessly at its mercy. “ his is
a matter of life or death, and a single mistake
may result in the murder of an innocent man,
instead of punishing a dastardly assassin.”

“I am accusing nobody,” gravely responded
the colonel, his rather ludicrous pomposity van-
ishing as he realized the gravity of the situation.
“ I am simply telling you the facts of the case
as I know them. I don’t say that Toplift killed
the gentleman—for all I know, he is perfectly
innocent of any connection with the crime—”

“ What object could he have far committing
the deed!”

“ Before he left the ofice, Mr. Ovelman with-
drew from my charge the sum of fiftv thousand
dollars in greenbacks. These be carefully placed
in his breastrpocket, saying at the same time
that the mono was to pay for the Jealous Girl.
He left the ho l. I saw him mount the horse I
furnished, and saw him ride oil in company
with Timothy Toplift.”

For a moment after Colonel Gordon ceased
8 king. there was a silence almost 0 piesslvo
a leyes being turned upon Toplift, w o shifted
uneasily from foot to foot, but still keeping his
eyes on the floor, still with that dogged look
upon his face. And his face grew more ghastly
as a rough voice cried out from somewhere in
the crowd:

“ Reason enough fer killin’ a dozen men!
Make the critter tell all he knows, or else string
him up to loosen his tongue!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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That blunt speech was sufficient. It was like
casting a blazing torch into a crowded hay-
mow. The murmur swelled to a roar—the cry
above all others the most horrible and awe-in-
spiring—the yell for human blood !

“ Back!” cried St. Clair Guthrie, facing the
crowd with leveled pistols. “Back, I say! or
I’ll shoot—to kill !”

The mob paused, but it was only to make a
surer rush.

 

CHAPTER XIX.

A TALE or HORROR.
EVEN his worst enemy must have given the
rt of Rocky Bar credit for rare nerve and
p enty of it, as he stood there facin the howl-
ing, bloodthirsty crowd, single-ban ed against
two-score, defending Tim Toplift from the sud-
den outburst of fury, all the more dangerous

from being so blind and unreasoning.

“Back! keep your distance, gentlemen!” he
cried, his voice ringing out hard and menacing,
his blue eyes flashing fire, his white face hard-
set and dangerous. “ It’s the truth we want to
find out, and that we’ll have, if Iyou act sensi-
bly. The men can‘t escape us. e will confess
everything, if he is given time to realize his
danger—”

“Which he kin see the quickest through the
noose of a trail—rope!” rudely interrupted the
man who had started the cry for lynching.
“ Down with ’em both, of he stan’s in the way.”

St. Clair Guthrie saw the crouching, restless

uiver which ran through the crewd at this
fiery speech. and past experience told him that
the loss of an instant mi ht be fatal. There
was only one chance, and t at one he took.

Witha motion swift as Ugh: his weapon shift—
ed its aim and covered the ld speaker. Only
an instant—barely long enough for the fellow to
realize his peril, without giving him a chance to
avoid it —then the revolver exploded. Straight
through the brain crashed the missile. One
hoarse, strangling cry. The death-stricken
wretch staggered back, turned half-way round,
his eyeballs almost bursting from their sockets,
then fell heavily forward 11 n his face, a
cflorpse ere his carcass touched t e blood-stained

oorl

Instinctively the crowd shrunk away, horror
in their eyes and mingling with the fear in their
faces. It was his one chance, and St. Clair
Guthrie prompt] improved it.

“I hated to o it, gentlemen, but the hot-
headed fool brought it upon himself. He had
his warning, just as you have yours. Crowd me
too close. and he’ll have compan over the
range. This fellow may have ki led Arthur
Ovelman, but he’s got to beproven guilty before
being lynched—and I. call on all order-loving
citizens to second me in this resolve.”

“ ’I‘ain’t no more’n right, an’ durned of I ain’t
with ye tell the cows come home!” cried Wil-
kins, ranging himself alongside the gambler,
with ready revolvers. “ Fa’r play, mates! The
trail—rope won’t sp’ile, an’ mebbe thar’s a heap
wuss critter mixed up in the scrape then Tim
Toplift. Le’s make a clean haul while we’re
’bout it—not go of! at hafe-cock!”

“ It is no more than fair that the prisoner
should be iven another chance to clear him—
self,” adde Colonel Gordon, joining the twain,
armed with a brace of saw-handled dueling-
pistols. “Fall into the ranks, men of law and
order!”

Grumbling Ginger and Matney were the next
to join the men who guarded Toplift, but the
force of the wave was broken, and the crisis
past. The cry for human blood had died away,
and the iron nerve of the gambler had won,
though none better realized the terrible risk he
had run.

“ Thanks, gentlemen!” he cried, his voice as
clear, as even and tranquil as though the wings
of death had never cast their chilliirgr shadow
over his head. “ I knew that you would recog~
nize the correctness of my pOSition the moment
you took a second thought. It is justice we
want, not a lynching picnic, plunged into with-
out rhyme or reason. A fou murder has been
committed, and that upon the person of a
stranger here, who confided in our honesty and
manhood. As white men, with hearts that can
feel for and sympathize with the poor young
lady who is left an orphan in astrange land, we
owe it to ourselves and to Rocky Bar to probe
this matter to the Very bottom, to et at the
whole truth, and then avenge the fo deed, let
the lightnin strike where it will!”

St. Clair uthrie paused to catch his breath,
and a cry of approval burst from the easily-
swa ed crowd.

“ could wish that somebody else had taken
the lead in this matter, but since I have been
crowded into acting as dealer, I’ll run the cards
out. Tim Toplift, look here,” and St. Clair
Guthrie placed a hand heavily upon the shoul—
der of the foreman of the Jealous Girl, looking
him full in the eye, with a stern, impressive

aze.

g “ You know more about this matter than you
choose to tell. You were the last one to see
Arthur Ovelman alive. so far as we can learn.
He rode away from Rocky Bar in your com-
pany, taking with him a large sum of money.
A few hours later, he is discovered dead, the
victim of an atrocious murder, from all appear-
ances. You are found in the same cabin,
wounded, just recovering your senses. The
matter can be explained in only two ways.
Either you were hurt in murdering Arthur
Ovelman, or else shot and left for dead by the
assassin.”

“ I never laid so much as the wei ht o’ my lit-
tle finger onto him!” muttered t e foreman,
still doggedly.

“ Who did, then?” impatiently cried the gam-
bler, his grip ti htening. “You must know—
and by the L0 above! you’ve got to tell every-
thing. or I’ll fit the noose around your throat
with my own hands! Ceme! which shall it be?”

One glance around him Tim Toplift cast.
There could be no mistaking the sentiments of
the crowd. There was death in every eye—
death in every face upon which his eyes rested,
and then his nerve failed him.

“I didn’t want to do it, but he cain’t blame
me when it comes to this!” he muttered, shrink-
ing away from those threatening glances. “ He
treated me like a dog—an’ me workin’ my four
bones clean off—”

“ In one word—will you confess?” demanded
the mbler.

“ ’ ain’t coufessin’, for I didn’t hev nothin’ to
do with the job,” trembled the foreman. “ But
I’ll tell ye the hull stcr , though it’s like tearin’
the heart out 0’ my bo y—”

“ Better that than havin your neck stretched,
if you are really innocent, ’ inter d the gam-
bler, with shard laugh. “ Must question you,
or will you tell your story of your own ac~
cord?”

“Let me reel it of! my own way. It’s hard
enou h, at the best,” was the sullen response.

“ ery good—but mind: this is your last
chance. If we catch you tripping, I’ll step
aside and let these gintlemen try what virtue
there is in a dose of mp.”

“Give me a drink, then, somebody. I’m
chokin’ as it is l"

A glass of liquor was brought from the bar,
and hastily swallowing it, Tim Toplift plunged
headlong into his story, as though eager to get
through with a painful task.

“ Last night, while I an’ some 0’ the boys was
on guard duty over the Girl, we was 'umped by
Cap’n Slyboots an’ his gang 0’ Anti onopolistS,
as they call themselves. Lucky fer us, they
didn’t ketch us nappin’, an’ though two of the
boys chawed cold lead an’ was throwed in thar
tracks, we fit the p’izen imps off—”

“ What has this to do With the murder of Ar-
thur Ovelman?”

“ You said fer me to tell the hull story arter
my own fashion, au’ I’m doin‘ it the best Ikn0w
how,” sullenly retorted Toplift, showing his
teeth. “That was part 0’ the job, though you
mayn’t think so, jest now.”

“All right—fire ahead. But don’t try our
patience any more than you can help.”

“We fit ’em off, though we couldn’t be sure
that they wasn’t la in’ ’round under kiver
ready fer to snake us in the minuit we showed
our noses out o’ the hole,” doggedly resumed
the witness, closely adhering to the line which

#

‘ “ Time is pressing.

’ he had laid out.' “But when the sun got well

up, an’ we couldn’t make out anythin’ o’ the
gang, I made a break fer it, to tell the boss how
matters hed gone.

“I got through all right, as ye know, fer ye
see‘d me come into town this mornin’, when ye
were havin’ things lively enough—but that
don’t matter to my story.

“I told the boss what had ha pined, an’ be
rid with me out o’ town, but w en I tried to
tell him what all hed happined, he jest shut me
up mighty short, an’ said that he wanted to
think—an’ ef looks don’t lie, he was doin’ a
powerful sight 0’ thinkin’, too!

“All the same, he led the way at a good gait,
an’ when he fuck the wrong turn at the forks,
an’ I ’minded him of it, he turned onto me right
savagerous, sayin’ that he knowed his own busi-
ness best.

“ I reckon he see that I was kinder hurt at his
rough way 0’ speakin’, when I hedn’t meant to
cross his notions in any way, fer he looked back
with that pleasant smile 0’ his, an’ said that he
was ’spectin’ word from down kentry, that
mornin’, an’that he’d bear all I bed to say when
we come to the place whar the man wasto meet

him.

“ We halted at the shanty whar these boys
found me an’——an’ the corpus,” hesitating over
the cjhoice of a word, but then continuing more
ra i y:

R I told the boss all that had happined at the
Girl, an’ he jest listened, not sayiu’ so much as
a word. I could see that he wasn’t in his usual
mood, au’ so held my hush ontel the notion
should strike him to open out. Au’ so we sot
thar ontel past noon, when the man he was
lookin’ fer come along.

“ It was a clean stranger to me—don’t reckon
he’d ever bin in them parts afore, though he
come in as cool as though he’d lived thar all his
life, an’ handed the boss a letter without sayin’
a word.

“ The boss opened an’ read it, an’ his face
turned as white an’ sicklyelookin’ as that of a
ghost. I thunk he was goin’ to keel over, an’
jumped to ketch him, but he turned on me with
a sick-lookin’ smile, an’ motioned me back.
Then him an’ the stranger went outside, leavin’
me in the cabin, thou h I moved so I could keep
a eye onto them, fer didn’t like the look 0’ the
strange cuss, overly much, an’ thunk mebbe he
ggwed to play some sort 0’ gum-game onto the

35.

“They talked fer a bit, then the boss writ
somethin’ an’ give it to the stranger, who jest
nodded an’ turned away. I could hear the
trompiu’ 0’ his boss’s feet, an’ knowed by that
that he’d gone back whar he come from.

“ The boss come inside an’ writ a letter, seal-
in’ it up afore he putt it in my han’s, tellin’ me
to ride hot-foot to town an’ give it to Arthur
Ovelman. I was to wait fer a answer, an’ ef he
wanted to come with me, I was to fetch him
straight to the shanty, whar the boss would be
waitin’.

“ I did jest as he told me. The old gent read
the letter, an’ questioned me mighty close, seem-
in’ to think that thar was some sort 0’ trick kiv-
ered up in it, but then he looked satisfied, an’ we
rid out o’ town together. I tuck him straight to
the shanty, as I was told. He rid on a little
ahead, as I p’inted it out, an’ got down off his
critter.”

Toplift’s voice was growing more husky and
uncertain as he proceeded, and now he came to
a pause, wetting his parched lips with his
tongue. St. Clair Guthrie made a gesture, and
one of his employees handed the witness a glass
of liquor. He swallowed it d0wn at a gulp,
then resumed his narrative speaking more rap-
idly, as though fearful of his own courage.

“ The old gent stepped in the house, and then I
see’d him stumble, as I thought, but at the same
time he give a cry of what mought ’a’ been
warnin’ to me, but I didn’t think what it meant
then—an’ then come a shot, an’ I tumbled out o’
the saddle!”

Again Toplift paused, a flush of color coming
into his face, which deepened as St. Clair Guth-
rie, sternly demanded:

“Who was it that fired that shot?”

“It was a man,” slowly. “ I jest ketched a
glimp’ 0’ him afore the bullet knocked me over.
Not enough to sw’ar to him.”

“But afterward? Come, Toplift ” and there
was a menacing glitter in those cold orbs as the
gambler spoke, “ you’re in a tight box, and
there’s onl one way to clear yourself. Arthur
Ovelman as been murdered, and we have
sworn to avenge his death. One of two things:
Either you murdered him for the large sum of
money which he carried on his person, or you
know who the criminal is. We are determined
to learn the whole truth. If you refuse to speak,
we will string you up by the throat until you
confess—~0r die .' Take your choice!”

The color faded from the face of the foreman,
and he broke into a harsh, discordant laugh,
muttering, as though to himself:

“ He brung it onto himself! What made him
treat me like a no’count dog, fer? He didn’t
give me a show, an’ I’d be a bloody fool to swing
on his a’countl”

“ Come!” impatiently added St. Clair Guthrie.
ill you speak out of your
own free will, or must we see what the per-
suasion of a close-fitting noose will do?!”

“ I’ll tell all I know,” sullenly, “but don’t
crowd a feller too hard. It’s a p’izeu nast dose
to swaller, as it is. Nur I wouldn’t go bac onto
him, though you fetched on a cord 0’ trail-ropes,
ef he hedn’t went back on me fu’st!”

“ Never mind your reasons. We want the
truth, and don’t care how we get at it, nor your
reasons for telling it.”

“ I 'est ketched a glimp’ o’ the man who shot,
afore tumbled out o’ the saddle. but, as I said,
it wasn’t enough fer me to photograph him, jest
then. I wasn t killed, as ye know thou h it
was a mighty cluss call, fer the lead struc me
low enou h down to hev bored my brain-pan,
ef it h n’t glanced like, skinnin’ ’round the
skull an’ comin’ out on top 0’ my nut. Wilkins,
thar kin tell ye of I’m lyin’.”

“ It’s jest as he says, gents,” put in the man
appealed to. “ I tied up his head, an’ ort to
know.”

“What has that got to do with the murder?”
impatiently interposed St. Clair Guthrie. “ Get
down to business. ’

“ Ain’t it business—an’ that o’ the pi’zenest
kind? I ain’t a-goin’ to make a botch o’ it now
I’ve got started. I want to show how it come.
that—that he left a witness to tell 0 his doin’s,”
doggedly retorted Toplift, licking his dry lips.
“ That hole in my forehead, an’ the way,I was
bloodied, mought ’a’ fooled a smarter man than
him—cf they make any more sech.”

“ Go on,” growled the gambler, resignedly.

“ I couldn’t move ar limb, no morc’n ef I
was paralyzed, but al the time my thinkin’
traps was workin’ as bright as eVer. I know it
don‘t sound right, but it s the gospel truth, all
the same. I could see the man what shot me
come outside, an’ knowed that he was comin’ to
make sure that I was dead, but to save my soul
I couldn’t move a finger or utter a sound. I
'est laid thar, like a dead hog, an’ he come up,

elt o’ my heart an’ my pulse, then laughed a
little, low an’ soft, as he lifted me up in his
arms an’ tuck me into the shanty.

“He drapped me down in one corner, then
turned to whar the old gent was lavin’. I sce’zl
it all, like a man in a dream, but it was so tur-
rible plain that I kin shet my eyes now an’ go
over every move that was made, little an’ big.

“I see him stoop over an’ run his knife into
the old gent’s buzzum, clean to the hilt. Then
he stopped a minnit, lookin’ at him. Then he
tuck a bun’le o’ somethin’——I cain’t jest sw’nr
what it was. fer he stood between us, an’ lied
his back part turned to’ards me—out 0’ the old

ent’s breast-pocket, au’ stuck it into his own.
E18 did it quick as thought, an’ at the same time
cussed a little, as though he hed diskiVercd
some signs 0’ life—that, I reckon, fer he stooped
ag’in an’ drawed his knife across the old gent’s
throat, so hard an’ fierce, like, that it almost out
his head clean off!

“ Then he turned to’rds me, grippin’ his
knife, his eyes shinin’ l' e balls 0’ fire in the
dark—fer it was gettin’ ii to’rds sundown, an’
ye know that thar hain’t no winders in the
shanty. I thunk he was goin’ to slit my wizzen

 

 

the same as he did that o’ the 01d ent, an’ I
tried to holler out fer marcy, but couldn’t
make a sound—couldn’t move a finger or toe,
evenfln’ I reckon it was lucky fer me that was
so.

“ He stooped over me, an’ felt fer my heart,
jest like he did outside, but thar wasn’t no sign
0’ life, an’ he turned away ag’in, leavin’ me
layin’ thar. He went outdoors, an’ I could
hear the tromple 0’ his boss’s hoofs as he rid
awa .

“ ho was it?” demanded St. Clair Guthrie,
sternly. “ You have not told his name, yet!
Who was the foul assassin!”

“ I ain’t done, yit,” doggedly. “I lay thar,
with that orful Sight afore my eyes, fer what
seemed a year. The dark come down into the
cabin, but it couldn’t shet out the sight 0’ the
dead man, an’ I wouldn’t wish my wust inemy
to suffer one hafe 0’ what I sufi’ered thar afore
I beam the sound 0’ human voices outside, an’
Wilkins come stumblin’ inside. They was
skeered at the dead man, an’ when I thunk they
was runnin’ away, leavin’ me thar in wuss then
hell, ten times over, it give me power to break
the spell, an’ I called to ’em. They holped
me down here—an’ you know the rest.”

“ All save the name of the murderer—”

“ An’ that you’d never knew from me, only
he went back onto me fust, an’ shot me like I
was a dog! I’ll tell, though it cuts might deep,
even now, fer, gents I loved the critter like he
was my own son—I did so!” huskily muttered
Toplift.

“ Once more—his name!” demanded the gam-
bler, his revolver touchin the face of the fore-
man. “Speak—and quic 1y.”

“The man who killed Arthur Ovelman, an’
tried to kill me, was Dan Brown 0’ Denver!”
slowly said Toplift.

Alt ough they had suspected something of
the sort, from what the witness had said before,
this announcement caused an intense excitement
among the crowd, but silence reigned in obedi-
ence to the uplifted hand of St. Clair Guthrie.

“ Gentlemen—one word! You are not more
astonished than I at the announcement of the
murderer’s name. I would not have believed it,
on less positive evidence—for we all saw that it
was like denouncing his brother for Toplift to
es what he has. More than ever I regret having
ta en a prominent part in this affair, for there
are those who wil remember that only last
evening I had a little dispute with Dan Brown.
For that reason I resign the position which was,
in a measure, forced upon me, and beg you to
elect some one else whom you can trust, to lead
you on to vengeance—”

“No, no! you’re the man!” came from the
crowd.

“Very well! and the blue eyes flashed fire.
“ I will take the lead, and I swear to avenge the
murder of Arthur Ovelman! Clear the room of
all save those I name, for the present. There is
no more time to waste if we hope to catch him!”

(10 be continued—commenced in No. 16.)

 

John Westnn’s Adventure.

BY EDWIN S. DEANE.

 

 

JOHN WESTON boarded a train for New York,
and having laced his sachel in one end of his
seat, like a] other selfish people, proceeded to
appro riate the other to himself. John was a
bache or of thirty-five, and, for that matter, is
one yet; but thereon hangs the tale I am about
to relate.

He was not what you would call a bashful
man; in fact he had been in many a love scrape,
and prided himself somewhat on being a lady-
killer. He was handsome, too, and that in-
creased his good opinion of himself. So on this
particular morning we find him bound for the
metro lis, at peace with the world, satisfied
with imself, and bent on kee ing his seat no
matter what inconvenience old adies and ugly
girls might suffer thereby; for John, who was
the essence of politeness to handsome women,
was very apt to slight the claims of the homely.

Presently a young lady—yes, a very pretty

oung lady—entered the car hesitatingly and

ooked about her in bewitching embarrassment
for a seat. She finally aused before John Wes-
ton, while he, fortified y a newspaper, had not
noticed her approach.

“ Please, sir, is this seat occupied?”

Now, she might have seen for herself that it
was as full as John Weston with his sachel
could fill it, but perhaps she thought she could
obtain better satisfaction by asking the occu-

ant.

p At the sound of her voice John’s newspaper
dropped, and a decided “ yes” was imprinted on
his surly countenance—surly enough at that mo-
ment to frighten away the aforementioned old
ladies and ugly girls; but when his eye fell on
the beautiful vision half ready to cry, the frown
vanished like magic, and the sachel was hastily
consigned to a position on the floor to make way
for a more worthy successor. Here was a chance
for a flirtation! Pretty and bashful she certain—
ly looked, but John hoped by 'udicious treat-
ment to bring her out and a 0rd himself an
opportunity to exercise his arts on innocent wo-
manhood. He could see in his mind’s eye the
impression he was about to create, and he at
once set to work to create it.

But the young lady was not disposed to talk.
She persisted in looking out of the window, and
gave such short answers to his remarks, that
John was inclined to give up his self-imposed
task as not worth the trouble.

But, little by little, she came out of her re-
serve, and proved so pretty, and shy, and en-
trancing that John was forced to admit to him-
self that he had never seen any one half so
bewitching as this little stranger. She, in a
moment of confidence, informed him that she
was actually running away from home! Her
father, who was a regular hear, was going to
force her to marry another bear, and she, in or-
der to escape so horrible a fate, had left both
bears and was now on her way to some relatives
living in New York, where she intended to stay
until her father should repent of his absurd no-
tion. She was afraid he might even be on this
very train, and often glanced timidly about the
car as if in expectation of seeing him pop up at
any moment.

“If he should catch me with you,” she said,
half-tearfully, “ I don’t know what I should
do.

“Leave it all to me,” replied John, valiantly.
“I will see that no harm comes to you ” And
he gave her little hand a gentle s ueeze that was
intended to s eak volumes, w ile he noticed
witha thrill O pleasure that the pressure was
returned, and he smiled to himself with compla-
cent satisfaction at the progress he was making.
Less and less reserved did she grow; more» and
more confident did John become in his fascina~
ting powers, until it was quite evident that he
had created an impression not soon to be ef-
faced.

In the midst of their flirtation the train dash-
ed into a tunnel, and with a little shiver of ap-
parent dread the fair maiden drew almost im—
perceptibly closer to her companion whose arms
were around her in an instant. With a low cry
of surprise and indignation she attempted to
free herself, but did not succeed until the train
had almost come into the light.

She now k3pt such a dignified and haughty
silence that ohn, hea ing anathemas upon his
own head, very humb y begged her pardon.

“ ’Twas horribly rudc." she replied, “ and no
word of yours can justify it.”

But it was not long until she had apparently
forgotten the circumstance, and was chatting
away guyly. Finally, with the mischief danc-
ing from her eyes, she said:

“ Do you know there is another tunnel a
short distance ahead 3”

Her eyes said, “Try it again, won’t you?"
John’s verbal answer was “Yes,” but his eyes
plainly said, “ I guess I will!"

“Will you not allow me to see you to your
friend’s home when we arrive in the city?" was
his gallant inquiry a few minutes later, and
with a smile of thanks she gave him her card
with the address penciled thereon.

John began to grow serious what a grand:

 

thing life would be with this fairy forever by
his Side! He must not lose sight of such a gem
—her love would be worth securing. Her fa-
ther must be— Here the next tunnel rudely
interrupted his reverie, and with a sigh he
turned in his seat only to encounter those mis-
chievously defiant eyes in the darkness.

Drawn by some irresistible magnetism, he
clasped her in his arms and kissed her pretty
lips, while she returned his caresses with in-
terest. and snuggled up to him rather closely
for a bashful girl; but when the train dashed
out into the open air, she was sitting in her own
corner as demure as ever, notwithstanding the
fact that she was a little restless, and watched
the door with a slight show of alarm.

Suddenly, as the train was drawing up to a
de 6t, she gave a slight cry of dismay, hastily
pu led her vail over er face, and with the ex-
cuse of getting a drink, arose and darted down
the aisle before John could arrest her. At the
same time the opposite door opened and a
sharp-visaged man entered the car, looking
about him hurriedly:

“Have you seen anything of a fashionably-
dressed young lady on this train, little, pretty
and bashful-lookirg?” He paused inquiringly
before John’s seat.

“ Ha !” thought John, “this is her surly
father. Watch me demolish him!

“What business is it—”

“Never mind,” interrupted the man with a
grim smile. “I’ve had positive information
that Kate Gray, the shar est pickpocket of the
day, is on this train, an I’m after her; but I
guess the Lgade has slipped me again. Shouldn’t
wonder ' she has gone through you,” and he
passed on in search of his prey, while John Wes-
ton fell back in his seat aghast.

That girl a thief! He thrust his hand into his

ket, a cold chill running over him. His wal-
et was gone! He glanced at his vest—his gold
watch, worth two hundred dollars at the least
calculation, had disappeared. And this was the
girl he had thought of marrying!

“No wonder she hugged me so tight,” he
groaned: “ it paid her!”

John Weston is a bachelor yet, and likely to
remain one all the days of his life; but while
riding on the cars now, his sachel is kept by his
side, no matter what inconveniences old, ugly
and pretty young ladies sufi‘er thereby.

 

Casual Mention.

 

THERE are over fifty sheep farmers in Otaga,
Nev}: Zealand, with flocks of not less than 20,000
eac .

IT is said that the ph lloxera has now utterly
destroyed throughout rance nearly 2.000.000
acres of vineyards. Besides this 1,600,000 acres
more are now in oiiferent stages of destruction.

ITALIAN murderers are very rarely hanged,
but their fate is, if convicted, far from pleasant.
Passavante, who tried to kill King Humbert in
1878, is fastened to the wall of a nearly dark cell
by a five~foot chain riveted to his ankle. He has
become imbecile.

THE prevailing terror in British India is not
policemen, nor communists, nor ten—cent ele-
vated fares, nor yet Wiggins, but snakes. In
1881 snakes are reported to have killed 18,670
persons, and probably some elephants, wild
boars and such creatures. '

THE pistol which a Cincinnati woman swore
was the one her husband threatened to shoot
her with proved to be a beer faucet. The bus-
band was discharged, of course, but ’twas five
minutes before the court could quell the laugh-
ter which the exhibition of the pistol caused.

A MAN in Denver has recently had an experi-
ence which, in all probability, he will never
again undergo. He, with the corpse of a dead
friend leaning against him as he sat in the same
seat with him, drove eighteen miles, from Plum
Creek Blufis to Denver, the nearest point where
an undertaker could be found.

THE United States stands third on the list of
beer-drinking countries. the average being about
two and a half gallons for each inhabitant. Bel-
gium stands first on the list. Little beer is con-
sumed in Scotland and Ireland, whisky being the
national beverage. The English average ten
gallons of beer per head per annum.

To those who believe in the better health of
the “good old times,” it will be gratifying to
see the results of investigations on this subject.
In the sixteenth century the average period of
human life was a little over twenty-one years:
in this century it has risen to forty years.
Then only 3 per cent. lived to see their three—
score and ten years; now 18 per cent. live be-
yond this age.

THE Rev. John Jasper, who holds that the
earth is flat and that “the sun do move,” has a
learned champion in Professor William Car-
penter. The latter is an active propagandist of
the Zetetic doctrine, which declares that the
world is as level as a wise man’s head. The
circumnavigation of the earth is simply describ-
ing a circle on the disk about the North Pole as
the central point.

A MAMMOTH kite was recently made near
Rochester. Its frame was of lumber two inches
wide by half an inch thick, covered with manila
paper. The surface contained about 200 square
feet. The string by which it was flown was of
three-eighths inch rope and 5,000 feet in length.
The kite shot into the air like a balloon, and af-
ter floating a mile high for two hours was only
brought down by means of a pulley and team.

ONE of the most imp0rtant oases of the Desert
of Sahara, and one which will be of great im-
portance to the French in case they constructs.
trans-Saharian railway, is that of Ouargla. It
is situated in a large valley which, tradition
says, was once a vast garden containing 125 vil-
lages and over 1,000 artesian wells. Together
with the ad 'oining smaller oases it now has more
than 450,0 palm trees, and artesian water is
found at 115 feet.

THE natives of the northwest coast of Guinea,
near Astrolabe Bay, are in the lowest stage of
civilization, employing only implements of
stone, bone and wood, and being quite ignorant
of the use of me‘als. Their dead are laced in
a sitting posture and covered with the eaves of
the cocoa palm, while women are obliged to
keep a fire burning near by till the bodies are
dried. The corpse is buried only when there is
nobody to keep a fire.

“SENATOR BAYARD started in life,” writes a
vivacious Washington correspondent, “ as a
clerk in a Philadelphia hardware store, Senator
Beck began as a farm hand, Conger as a lumber
hand, Davis, of W'est Virginia, as a brakcman,
Dawes as a school-teacher, Fair as a bartender,
Farley as a coach-driver, Gorman as a Senate
page, Jones, of Florida, as a carpenter, McDill
as a depaitment clerk, Morrill, as a country
storekeeper, Plumb as a printer’s devil, Sawyer,
as a labour. Sherman, as a surveyor, and Vest
as a reportcr.”

STRANGE are the ways of Western journalists.
The Laramie Boomerang a few days ago remit-
ted for a time the discusdon of the burning
questions of the day, an 1 had a leading editorial
article on “The Acrobatic Cow.” It was a pc-
culiarly “'estern story of a peculiarly Western
cow which went up the stairway of a private
house; calmly browsed on the potted plants in
the second stor ' windows, and when she got
through jumch out of one of the windows to
the ground—a distance of twenty fect. The
veracious chronicle adds that she was not in—
jurcd iii the slightest degree by the jump.

YOUNG George Gould is a round. chubby-
faced young man, Compactly built, of medium
hight, with small. black eyes. aslight, dark mus-
tache and close cropped black hair. He has the
eyes and swarthy complexion of his father, the
form of grace and figure of his mother, a very
estimable lady. He is a thorough business man,
keeping his own counsel as well as that of his
father. He is not dissipated or fast in any sense
of the word. He is a modest. shrewd and enter-
prising young man who will probably prove a
worthy successor to his father. And he is en-
dowed with his father’s economical habits.

 

Gems of Poesy.

BY OUR OWN CONTRIBUTORS
-»—— «erre—

OUR FAITH.

 

BY HARRIET ESTHER WARNER.

 

I dare not say, there is no God——
Or that for us Death ends all things,
Because I have not touched His hand—
Or seen the flutter of their wings.
I simply trust the law divine,
That fashioned every pulsing heart,
And see Infinite wisdom shine
In all Creation’s perfect art.

I know the One who formed the stars
Must, somewhere, have a dwelling-place,
And yet I do not know that we
Shall see the glory of His face.
And He who set those worlds on high
And marked a path for each and all,
May fail to hear the ravens cry—
Or see the sparrows when they fall.

And though the One who fashioned earth
May fail to answer mortal prayer, ,
His hand still guides the universe—
His pulses throbbin everywhere!
And yet I cannot say is mind
Hath formed a course for on and me—
I Simply trust some law will ind
The present with Eternity.

We slowly climb the distant highte
Where mi hty truths are ever found,
And throng the steady march of time
Old theories topple to the ground.
Gone is the faith our fathers knew,
That placed Creation‘s acme here!
His all they centered on the few
Nor passed the limit of our sp ere.

But, go beyond the realms of space,

As far as mortal minds ascend,
And find Creation just begun,

Where man had thought to find the end.
And though I do not understand,

\Vhy all things are not what thcy seem,
I simplly trust the Master Hand,

And now His wisdom reigns supreme.

 

:02

 

DREAMING BY THE SEA.

 

BY EBEN E. REXFORD.

We see the sunset touch the hills before us
With sudden, mystic fire,

And one late lark, with ringing. jubilant chorus
Soars upward, high and higher.

We watch him circling in the blue, and listen
While at God’s feet lie sings,

And see, a far-off speck, the sunshine glisten
On his swift, quivering wings.

We hear the song of sailors, homeward drifting
Across the harbor bar,

And see the shadows on the headlands shifting,
And one pale, trembling star.

We hear the ocean on the low shore sobbing
As if in sudden pain,

And feel the pulses of the tide-wave throbbing
Along the sands again.

The glory of the moonlight's mystic splendor
Above the wide, weird bay

Breaks. like a smile that ma es a harsh face tender,
0n rocks and headlands gray.

We see one far sail onthe horizon drifting,
Ghostly and vague, and soon

It seems beyond the gray fog’s sudden lifting,
To sail into the moon.

I tell her that the sail our eyes are losing,
—And she looks up and smiles,—

Speeds on the ship of some one who is cruising
To find the Happy Isles.

We sit and watch the laggard tide retreating
Across the wet gray sands,

And see the foam against the black rocks beating
Like passion-haunted hands.

And then I hear the moaning of the ocean,
Beyond the harbor bar,

And see her face, all white with love’s emotion,
Like some pure, far-off star.

And then—the dream is done. All faintly showing
Across the ocean miles,

I see the white sail of the vessel going
To find the Happy Isles.

 

20:

 

THE AR K-DOVB.

BY AL. W. CROWELI.

I hear her footfall at the door,
I see again her sunny face
As I have seen it oft before
Rich with a tender maiden-grace;
I wonder is it fairer now?
I wonder is her voice more clear,
Or is the marble of her brow
Whiter and purer than last year?

Oh, Memo , thou art unkind!
And yet t on couldst not kinder be
For bringing to m heart and mind
The dead face w iich I Stem to see!
Let me recall that vision fond—
The moonbeanis flooding all the room,
Dispelling evcry shade of gloom,
The sea waves shining just beyond!

I clas ed her closely to my breast;
I he (1 and could not let her go;
The (love had found its ark of rest—
Outside the tide sung sweet and low;
The moon was shadowed by the light
thlch thrilled me from her limpid eyes;
My Man was as a gloomy night
Which faints beneath a glad sunrise;

Misoul leaped forth to meet her lips;
y pulses throbbed in ecstasy!

A seraph~form she seemed to me
And Heaven itself was in eclipse :—
Oh, God, that lips should ever find

Responsive lips that kiss—and die!

Oh God, that love‘s exultant cr
Should float on such a bitter wind

“ Love reigns triumphant over Death 1"
Thus in its madness sung my heart;
“ In skies ab0ve nor earth beneath
Is naught can tear our souls apart!”
Oh, im ious madnesslwand there blew
A su den wind across the sea'
The moon was shadowed and I knew
It was an evil prophecy!

But still my soul within my breast
Sung on in hope, and joyously;

Still clun the ark—dove to its rest
Beside he sadly-moaning sea.

Only the form within my arms _
Shivered and shook w th sudden dread
And drooped the sunny, golden head

Till hidden were her face’s charms.

A low sob quivers from her lips;

She cries—“I fool the chill of death!"
Upon my neck her forehead slips;

She draws onc slow and languid breath,
Then motionless, a form of clay

She lies clasped in my warm embrace
Nor answers to the prayers I say,

Nor to the kisses on her face!

Ah, well! it were my just deserts;

Love dwells the same within my breast

Yet o‘er it Death his sway aSSPl‘t-S——-

My dove has found its ark of rest!

Oh, is it strange a moon-kissed sea
Should bringla chillness to in ' soul?
01' that the envy surges‘ r0

Bears waves of agony to me?

Oh, gentle dove, so fair and frail,
Chanting eternally Love‘s hymn,
“7110 hastened through the twilight pale—-
Through gathering shadows, vague and dim,
To paths of everlasting light,
Did one swift shadow of regret
Dim for an instant thy clear sight
And cause thee Heaven to forget?

Methinks my soul had anted, yearned
After the soul it left )chind,

And, strengthened by its pain, had turned
Back to thy licai't, swift as the wind!

Pcrlia 5, though, in the Regions Blest
Her ovc is treasured for me there,
Greater because of Heaven where

My dove has found its ark of rest.

 

A CANADA backwoodsman agreed to send the
minister fifty pounds of maple sugar for marry-
ing him. Time passed and no maple sugar came
to sweeten the minister’s household. Some
months later he saw the husband in town, and
ventured to remind him: “ My friend, you did
not send the maple sugar you promised.”
With a saddened countenance he replied: “ To
tell you the truth, Governor, she ain’t worth it!”

 

 

 

 

    

 

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_- .c'

«(y

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i
\

  
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

9.1

1%?

.. "'Imuiiiumuuruuu

an?»

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

Published erery Monday morning at nine ocIOck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

l
mediate] y allowed, and more
He saw the butler treatiu
England Legislature to his most fav
flavored wine; the cook was loading
starving relatives with kitchen prod
lavish hand for family charity.
get away before the antique ra

the arrival of his parents and sister.
had but just come from a. Unive
and knew little of the L’s,
come neighbors during his life in Europe,
and were now staying at this same hotel.
He made their acquaintance, and was de~
cidedly “taken” with the

advance was not im possesses marke
g a New , raven hair “ba
ored and ' eyes, her rich Olive complexio
down her I like beauty set off with barba
uce and a could be more effective?

As “ help ” for

d personal possibilities. Her
her shining black
n_ and Japanese-
ric colors—what

 

Correspondents’ Column.

[This column is open to all correspondents. in.
quiries answered as fully and as promptly as circum-
(fontributions not entered as

who had be-

 

telling them to,!

the house, farm and she , the
ccoon returned. ' Indians

. stances will permit.
pOSSess one very valuable trait, t at of

youngest Miss L. ,

 

NEW YORK, APRIL 21, 1883.

“ declined " may be considered accepted. No 1488.
returned unless stamps are inclosedJ
“ Lock of Hair;“ " Won by Fire;”

who was extremely pretty,
and was dashy and lively.
mother‘s and sister’s arrival, he cnne to the

danced like a sylph,

He flew to the mosque to g
The evening of his

comfort for his bitter
found them together q

et consolation and, reticcnc
soul from the priests, but i the ab
uestioning the honest

e. "hey are not fond of talkin . and
f loquacity is perfectly delig itful.
of the Indian natur

 

BEADLE’S WEEKLY is sold by all Newsdealcrs in
the United States and in the Canadian Dominion.
Parties unable to obtain it from a newsdcaler, or
those preferring to have the paper sent direct, by
mail, from the publication Office, are supplied at the
following rates:

Terms to Subscribers, Postage Prepaid:

One copy, four months . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $3.00.
“ ‘ one year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 6.00.
Two copies, one year . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 5.00.

In all orders for subscriptions be careful to give
address in full—State, County and Town.- The pa-
per is always stopped, promptly. at expiration of
subscription: Subscriptions can start With any late
number. ’

TAKE Norton—In sending money for subscription,
b mail, niwcrinclosc the currency except in-a rc-

istcred letter. A Post Office Money Order is the

st form of a remittance. Losses bymail will be
almost surely avoided if these directions are fol-
lowed.
be?“ All communications, subscri lions, and let~
ters on business should be addrcssc to
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM S'r.. NEW YORK.

e pours itself
ons, in writing,
he most inter-

former in the ball-room

, and said, “Stay here,
mother, until I return.

I want to introduce to
you a very pretty girl,” and a minute later he
came toward her with the youn

his religion since " A Ut‘llthlllll Oi'aclc;” "The
0

Good Enough. etc. ;"

a man with riches so near« 0!
must find his soul correspondingly far aw
There was no solaCe the
Of the keyhole and horn
bosom of his family,
was to be gilt~edgedly wretched.

He entered his sons’ room unseen.
thcm affectionately conjecturin
old man was likely to live, an 1
thing it would be if he w
and leave them all his 1
gest the idea of putting a bug in his cof-
assisting nature.
plex agony thén and there he would i
s own head off with his Damascus I
but it would have don
present invisible and intangi

He flew to hi: wife as the rock of his last
refuge. His last refuge was rockin
away in company Of some
called in to talk about their liu
mountains of horrors! he hear
disparaging him!
rind him for his money;

it, in these new civilized conditi
and these Indian pupils write t
iinable letters to their friends and teachers—
age after page Of much such literature as the
heir accession to the state

“A Snug Harbor
" lly Special Arran e-
tisfaction Entirr-f’
';” “A Priialty or What?"

re; so he slippe
e to find comfort in the r p Than." A q, k F
x, “- ' - “ LIC .
for he i new now hat it ..Bewm of the Rocks,
'ron. A solution of permanganate of potass. is
meiely the potash dissr‘ ' )lved in water.
nquire at Cooper Union—A con-
er of colleges have mechanical do-

nvgroes wrote after t
of educated freedom.
moral as the habits of the Indians are natu-
, they become quite religious in their new
5 condition, and with this their su

Instantly Mrs. X. recognized her son’s com-
panion as one of the very women who had be-
haved so rudely in a streetccar afew months
She raised her eyes to her son’s face
with a look he could not misunderstand and
said, measuredly, “My dear boy, you will have
to c-Xcuse me from making any new friends to-
night, when I see so many old ones here who
have claims upon my attention.”

It goes without the saying that the L’s were
never introduced to the ladi
Moreover, their social statu
estimation of all the people at the hotel whose
consideration was desirable, and Nellie L. never
progressed further in the capture of young X.’s
which she and her family

g how long the , rally
what a blessed
ould kick the coopei'age
He even hearxl

pexstitions do
y submit, as they all
cut off, they seem to
religious” notions along
all go together.
of the white man is
ir medicine man, and it
y be on the strongest side.
ace of the buffalo and other
younger school
th the “happy
and they are ready to
a liumbug. The only

siderable numb
must, to have their hair
part with all their “
with their hair—they
“Great Medicine Man’
more powerful than the
i< important that the
ll'ith the disappears
it is difficult for the
of Indians to be infatuated wi
hunting ground ” theory,
accept it as a myth and
thing left for the moder
I and sew and reap and mo
ing demoralized by govern

A READER. Work is so readil
sofa, in so many branches of la
ccllent State to go to.

FRANK L. Consult an

obtained in Minne-
r that it is an ex-

y architect about a proper
PS of the X. family. 0 sptcml School of Archi-

e no damage in his
5 was fixed in the

tecture ” in Philadc
W. G. Answer cannot re
No partner in a firm or co
dividual name, but in the ll
W. E. B. Beware Of all "hair reiuovi-rs "
greatly injure the texture of the skin.—
comes Of excessive thinness of skin.

Consult some coin dealer.
so worn that the (late is illc

ach you at time named.
nipany recci ts in his in-
ame o? the f rm.
females who liad~

herirt and fortune
had begun to regard as assured.
J only a too “ true tale,” but one to
fllxed a moral that no person of

d his own wife:
she had only mar-
that she had only been

 

w;” but between be-
ment rations and dis-

 

giblc. it will have but
average intellect can fail to appreciate. Just

 

allowed seventeen new

 

Take Notice.

Serials appearing in this WEEKLYu-ill not
be republished in Library or book form. Back
numbers can be supplied by any newsdealer, or
sent by mail, prepaid, from the publishrrs.

 

dresses 8. year; that he i
‘einark to make OVer the '
inet she got (in chorus,
and only allowed her five thou—
year to spend as she pleased.

couraged by the unproductive soil of their
reservations, they have not much room for self-
rcspecting action.

—\\'rite to Scott & (‘o., 7:] Broadway,
as true as that honest

y—aside from being right
——is good policy,

is it that true politeness is
I have never yet seen that the
11 traveler gained anything but
rve his ill-manners,
He certainly can-
mforts he secures

always had some light 1
stvle of each new box
“The Brute i”),
sand duckits a

Bocxsno'r. June girl, 186“, was Tuesday—We (“In-
storics by the writer named will be
niidwriting bids fair to be
a. set of copy-books and practice; that on '
you ease and grace.

Curran. American Poult
iern Poultry Journal

rude and selfis
the contempt O
ill-tempers, and hoggishness.

not enjoy any extra bodily CO
at the expense Of his Own or anot

given—Your h

Shockin' g Panaticism.

IN New Mexico is a
l$3000 persons known as
e dwarf, “I had you } icntes, who believe in the

d
sin, but not to the
e dived upon his

transformed himself back a
man he had been before.
“ Oh, you miserabl

sect numbering fully
the Hermanos Peni—

mal and Record,
periodical atonement

Louisville, Ky. ;

 

DICK TALBOT TO THE FRONT!
A GRAND REPEARANCE!

Red Richard;

The Brand of the Crimson Cross.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,

AUTHOR OF “ ran DICK TALBOT romances,”

“BAT OT THE BATTERY,” “ WITCHES on
NEW YORK,” ETC., ETC.

A most exciting “ revival,” wherein the man
of dauntless courage and nerves of steel throws
down the gauntlet to a whole town, and

Dares a Hundred Foes!

inchis fight for a p incely possession, with only
his ragamuflin pards—
Joe BOWcrs, the Bummer—
The Giant from Red Dog—-

The Dead-sure Blackfoot Chief-—

The Fighting Washers-wasth !

It is, in truth, a wild Western tale of dare—

devils let loose, yet so entirely within the bounds

of veritable occurrence, that fact and fiction
run a rustling race for

The Wonderful Bonanza Stake!

and readers can “bet high” on it as the best
story of the year in its peculiar field.
80, Go For It!
“

A Splendid Detective Story!
NEXT 'ro count

The Telegraph Detective.

BY GEO. HENRY MORSE.

A brilliant, powerful and most original ro-
mance of reality—of city life snares, folly and
villainy—of the daring career of a young man
who, from the telegraph—room, steps into the
“shadow” arena to hunt down the keenest set
of scoundrels the great city can produce. It is
one of the best city-life and detective stories we
have ever published.

 

 

The Wide Awake Papers.

Politeness and Public Places.

IF there is one place calculated beyond all
others to bring into prominence the leading
traits of people’s characters and to reveal their
infirmities of temper and their lack of manners,
it is a public conveyance. A whole family,
struggling hard for recognition in a wealthy
and cultivated “set,” once sealed their own so-
cial doom by their selfish and ill-bred behavior
on a horse-car. They were known by name and
by sight to a lady]V and her daughter, Mrs. and

iss X., upon w ose visiting lists they were
anxious to secure places. One day the mother
and two daughters entered a streetcar in the
furthest corner of which sat Mrs. X. and her
daughter; and the three women seated them-
selves with profusive spread of skirts and pro-
oeeded to converse and laugh in a decidedly au-
dible way. Presently two other young women,
neatly but plainly attired. entered the carand
stood waiting for the three haudsomer dressed
members Of their sex to move their skirts and
allow them to sit, as the space occupied by the
three was abundant for the accommodation of
five. But neither the mother nor her daughters
made any move to share the seat with the two
passengers who were standing.

“ Will you please move along?” asked one of
the new-comers, finally, in the gmtlest manner.

One of the finely-dressed women glanced at
the questioner blackly, but took no notice of
the request. Then the conductor came to the
rescue.

“ Move along,” he said, decidedly—Streetcar
conductors are not as a rule, respecters of per-
sons.—“ There is plenty of room here.”

At this, with scornful glances and the slightest
movements, the three women gathered their
skirts a trifle more closely together, making
room for one of the friends to sit.

“ There is room for two,” insisted the conduc-
tor; and as the three unwillingly drew still a.
little closer together, he added, with a wave of
his hand, “ Won’t you move that way, madam,
and make two seats here?”

“No! we will not!” retorted one of the trio,
insolently. “Let them sit where they canl”
And instead of allowing the two friends to sit
side by side, they resolutely kept their places in
the center, leaving a cram (1 seat on either end
of the space they had originally occupied, for
the new- comers.

“Well, you ain’t very obligingl” muttered
the conductor, as he returned to the platform;
and nearly every one in the car looked an in-
dorsement of his opinion.

“To think that such ple as the Us could
be so selfish and rude! ’ whispered MissX. to
her mother. And her mother re lied—“Not
merely ‘selflsh and rude,’ my dear, ut brutally
coarse! It is well we do not know them.”

A few months later young Mr. X., who was
considered “a great catch ” was staying at a
fashionable watering-place hotel, in advance of

 

t Stock, Pigeon and Poul
city; Poultry Natid
World, Hartford, C
It is impossible fo
the files to find a ccrtai
supply you with copy.

letin. New York

And no matter a, Birmingham, Ohio; Poultry
t

another person may be,
swift to detect and despise

Yet one-half—at least—of
the traveling public conduct themselves before
and to strangers, as they
of conducting themselves
audience of acquaintances.
hen one deems one’s self free
from the espionage of those one knows—and
from the highest to the lowest, the best to the
worst, humanity is more or less a slave to the
opinions of others—one’s natu
characteristics reveal themselve
ness, irritability, impatience, self-love, arro-
gance, tyranny, make thems
wh :11 there is no check in
face, watchful
it is the time, tOO

nature, and public contumely.
how mean, naturally,
he is nevertheless
meanness in others.

y inflicting on thei
agonizing tortures.
nected with the R0
Archbishop Laney, shocked
cruelties, promulgated
from that communio
greatly decreased since,
ing to the order reside
counties of the Territory.

to prevent the discovery of
being masked. IV
penance the devotees oft

r bodies the most
They were originally con-
man Catholic Oh
by their barbarous
a decree banishing them

Its membership has
and those now b
rincipally in four
reat care is taken
their identity, all
hile conducting their annual
en travel hundreds of
rgo the prescribed tortures. Los
a small Mexican village, near Albu-
great body of the peni-

here I would chug yourh
throat! I would, by jingo!”
imprecation synonymous with “dunder Wed-
der.” “With this accursed charm,
not make invisible all these confoun
forever, beyond the reach of hair
any other patent medicine? that a fool I was.

I wanted to know too much and
I have pursued knowledge under
I got it. Henceforth I shall
never smile again, even if I am asked to.
Well, peace, rest, content and all the balance of
I am a broken man.”

own your own
—a Mohammedan

r us to hunt through
11 poem or sketch in order to

(live us the number of the
No numbers of the
led back of No. 600.

rson can write successfully for the

apparent strangers,
would not dream
before or to an
That is because w

TURDAY JOURNAL supp]

press who is no

. . and has the true autorial talent.
dlmcumes and ng no amount of education can mak

videntlv have not made the firs

l" t is talent in

mi temper and
s. Allourmean-

the assortment! Whena lady calls

(1 not on] leave her
husband’s. And if you
she should leave her own and her hus
each of them. As gen
much social visiting, t
ters, are obliged to thus leave car
course when your wife re
must leave your cards wi
SEALSXIN Ovnncorr.
except in the tropics. They
molluscs which

madly upon your
own card, but her
In the language of the Koran, “ Wh
rance is bliss lay in a good stock of it ”
SOLOMON SHINGLE.

querque, boasts of the
elves manifest then, t
the way of a familiar
interested, knowing eyes. But
, when the best bre
sweetest tempers, the truest charity,
est humanitarianism reveal themselves. Alas
that these are so rarel
Said a gentleman to in
night I entered a ferry-
and half—sick. It
where I knew that no go
a seat while a lady was without one; but sunk
down in a corner honestly he
keep mine. The cabin fill
or four ladies were left 8
it was my duty, as a gentl
seat to one of them; and th.
no more excusable that there were other men in
the cabin equally rude.
And, after a little, I disco
was a friend of yours; and I saw by her ex res-
sion that she recognized me.
then, to save myself from a s
But it taught me one lesson.
never again neglect the
, simply because I am

band’s card for

The annual “ceremo tlemen cannot, as a rule, do

March 24th, commence
procession containing abo
The process of
began at ten o’clock.

’ which took place on
with an introductory
ut thirty men and wo-
urification by torture
've men, naked to the
waist, barefooted, and wearing black robes and
concealed their identity,
Were seen to issue above the lodge-house of the
sect, led by the master of ceremonies, who car-
' a genuine cat o’-nine-taill.
weighing 250 pounds eac ,
e shoulders of two of the self-
torturers. The sharp edges cut into the naked
the blood to spurt out and drop to

penitent produced a sharp
good, which he thrust into the flesh of his fellow-
sufferers from time to tim
moved up the street
Spanish. Halting once, t
ferred to the shoulders of

 

turns hese formal calls she

The Bad Bet.

DURING the last cold spell, while the thermo-
meter was 25° below zero,
Offered tO bet $100 that
the top of a mountain on Big
about 1,200 feet above the river, t
ascend it with nothin
The bet was accept
man named Fairchan
Montana man started
his rubber boots, a wb
hand, and a twig of l

s are found everywhere
live on fish, crustacea,
c with wonderful swift-
sometimes catch sea-fowl and occa-
eat seaweed. The seal from whi
fur is ound chiefly along the Alaskan c0
tired by permission of our Govern-
s are first taken to San Ira
where they are tanned a

e not long ago, “One
boat feeling very weary
n the ‘Ladies’ S-iloon,’
nlleman had a ri ht to

a traveler in Montana bOOdS that completely

wooden crosses, can on] be en t

g on but a pair of boots. were placed on th

ed, and a young railroad
d held the wager. The
absolutely naked above
isky bottle in the left
ong-leaved pine in the
applause of the crowd of
the hero when he reached
and after that, while he came on the
ck. He was speedy, indeed. His face
mpty whisky bottle, his
mself with the pine
is of his legs were

plug to be able to and then to Euro
ed, and presently three

FATHER. Do not set
piano unless he has a
sense of time. and ist
music. and will be willing
ing. Otherwise. for the c
be time and mone

your son to learning the
ood ear for music. a perfect
ghly desirous of studying
and patient about proctic
hild to learn the piano will
wasted. Indeed. the same is
every hundred children set to
piano, not more than two learn
fairly well. and not more than one beco
accomplished musician.

Axos P. Teach your
father?” and "What, in
“ mamma,”) to yourself

_ to give up my
2 s
.t it made my ca e 8’ while tho p ion
ng a wild chant in
e crosses were trans-
others, the attendants
ying their rawhide whips mer—
low taking ofl skin and bits Of
cessiou again started and took its
to the goal, half a mil
ring the march not
nor was a word spok
ing the goal, a. small
encountered which

Still I did not move. 5 tutors greet
vered that one of them
It was too ate,

was red-hot from the e
ense of intense

back scarred by scourgi
twig, and the uncovered par
blue with chilliness.

The traveler, apparent]
out, leaving his stake
recognized as a nice 81

flesh. The pro
ter how I feel I will

duties of a gentleman
among utter stringers.”
gist of true politeness—to be as
who do not know us as to our
For true courtesy is not a pretty ac»
ment to be neglected or practiced at
but a deep-rooted principle which is
able by time or circumstance.
public conveyance treats

children to say “Wha

and wife; and “
t, ma’aml" to strangers. Better 3
0 not understand. is “ Be
here is no surer wa of teaching chi]
lite . than to always
r presence and to them.—
avoid society at all because of
—born child, nor should she wear

Ton no Btu. Relics often brin

181‘8

'03 Charles 1., of
d, was sold during th
t 8500 of our money
Newton’s was sold to an
.20. The foolish purchaser had
set in a ring which he wore coma
belonged to Laurence Sterne, an

and humorous writer, who lived from 171
was sold at a public auction for abo to
perfectly absurd price for even a relic-

aaked urpeunh-
sways?» herea-

angry and salons. It is not
t she intends breakJ ing of!
an was a guest of her

lady should coat with him
0 all in her power to in
our sweethean’s com-testes to
rude. Show the young lady
you have a little manline-
re and musthav

roan was heard,
a but Just before reach-
obe but, an ordeal was
tried the nerves of the
distance before the door
y strewn upon the
fed cross-bearers a

y confounded, ski ped
which was after-gard

counterfeit bill.
polite to those

 

A Novel Industry.

ty of lumber and building ma-
kota and other prairie countries
at drawback on the growth and
the Territories. As a general
a concluded to buy a farm and
mily to Dakota, be shipped his
oods there together with the lumber
y framed and ready to be at
lected to do this he eit er
11 Dakota at a big price, or
or dig a hole in the side of a
bly as pocsible until be
together to bu lumber
without mortgaging is lands.
expense of having a house
Dakota was no small
from going to that
as been formed in
Territory, for buildin houses to or-
company will go into t e business of
manufacturing houses on a large s
ship to any part of the country.
Of a few years is is 9
stores will be in operation
second-band houses, and
auction that parties hav
are left on the hands of
Dakota is all right, and
she is not too heavily
hand and misfit statcsm
or three years.

Ansel-lean Boy. vs. The Trades.

Two or three weeks a
institqu in Philadelphi
turing city in the coun
number of f ‘reigners an

cactus plants had be
ground, and as the bare-foo
proached it one hesitated. Instant]
dozen whips descended upon his bare
and with a bound

Your wife need not

the birth of a still
lack.

The person who in a

every other person as

ance whose good opinion he most v

real lady, the real gen tlemau.

Bums: Barons.

g as largeaprlcc
ngland, w en on
aadatooth of Sir

he sprung into the
and the footsteps
ed with blood.
terrible, the chant
fell with more
the procession
guarding the en-

 

thing, if a ma followers being mar

torture grew more
louder, and the tho
Reaching the door of th
was lost sight of, a se
trance, and only broken wh
blood bear witness of what
Issuing from the ho
formed and turned
And so the horrifying exercises con
penitents succeeding an
hen a grand procession
wound up the exercises for the do
these marches to and from the hou
the scene at times we
Powerful men
the most merciless fla
stances, the bare mu
every blow. The whole
age attempt to honor the
to the law has made no attem
wild exercises,
threw another

 

tly. A wig which
had to buy lumber “Sh ch
live in a sod house,

hill, and live as co
could get money enough
for his buildings,
The trouble and
framed and ship
item, and discouraged m
Now a company

The Dnlfapers.

The Fatal Amulet.

Aomrm' MULDOON, Esq. was the bap
caliph in the celebrated cit
was not a Bagdader who co
in the matter of pure conte
upon, and secretly sworn. at, as bein
who had nothing to trouble him, and
pt by not a single cloud of ca
9 bringing him in a solid per-cent. ; he
; his caravans always
e odorous South load-
pearls, bourbon, etc., and
mped themselves to g
poqir relgtions; his) famous
yan paying usmess'
ake the warm friendly
tances, for they were true
ovely and loving; his
flectionate; he did not
ic sigh was. He

use, the procession ro-
w their house 0

Lo
sion to accept the gentleman n
y of Bagdad; there that

uld come near him

at, and he was looked her relations With

3 too sickening for
submitted their
gellation until, in some in-
as seen quivering at
roceeding was a sav-
rseuon Hither-
pt to check these
although, once, a penitent who
bearing a cross
San Juan, and drowned
by the infuns‘ ted witnesses.

“
Focused Pacts.

THERE are 4,000 liquor saloons in Chicago. A
year. It is proposed to make

oney in the bank
regularly returned from th
ed with spices, coffee,
his camels always hu
on time; he had no
bazars transacted a s;
it did him good to sh
hands of his acquain
and tried; his wife
sons were dutiful and 8
even know what a poet
around and wondered how any one shoul
sorrow or be in adversity.

do but to exist in his blissfu
day his happiness and his
having a contented
else would in his fix without havin

ted that secondhand
in Dakota, dealing in
houses will be sold at
e refused to take, and
the express companies.
will get along nicely if
burdened with second-
en during the next two

aguest is selfish an

by your conduct that
and common sense. Y
like an unreasonable, iii-tempeled

rs. Gilbert and Sullivan, who have
into the river

1 bed written several po
him, was ync

“ Pirates of Penzan
" and after that the “ Peer and P
flers from an opera in
arrangement of solos, cho

same in an oper

Patti is the finest opera singer
ceived the highest price ever

She is about thirt
was born in Mad '
descent, and an American
childhood and early

when she was 0

The
recitation, etc, is
a and an Operetta-

 

o a careful inquiry was
, the largest manufac-
try, as to the relative
d native Americans en-
ged in the trades and as skilled handicraftamen
of every kind. The result was sta
eigners, especially the Germans

Irishmen, had shouldered our own
gather out of almost ever
The American boys could
fingers who were learning the
in the great woolen and car

He had nothing to
1 state andaae every
riches increase, and
pride in himself

living, and has re-
so

eight or forty
education. All
youth was spent in New York,
ce was uponaNew York

cars of age. Her real
rinda Patti. She be-
er marriage with the

member of her
iano manufacturer. Nicolini’l

cease costs $52 a.
$500

fmitrgrowers are waging a war
pen the English sparrows.
ave no friends anywhere.
Colorado are to be the new iron
Ores carrying 56 to 95
beenfound in the first

of exterminati
They will soon h

One Oriental night, while sittin
eat as enjoying his nargileh he
in an idle, half-dozing moment
wish: he wished he had

come Marquise de’Caux by b
(10 Canx, which m
She .is now the wife of a
troupe— Nioolini—formcrly the bus
ter of Steinway, the
first wife died some

Tnonxa writes:—
friend’s house I was
of her small. fine wi
gret, and both she and
that ‘it was of no acco
how can I match it?
money to her and ask her
attempt to replace it. It is
to ever replace a broken article
I your friend some present. You can
of wine-glasses. a pretty decanter-,1:
gift you choose in 3

our visiting-card in the
riend, and send it
ch 8. gift would be
to and in accordance with the rules
lass in place of the
form;” and to send
would be insulting in the

y such occupation.
counted on the
trade of weaving
t manufactories.
cotton mills, at

he made a funny
the power to make him-
y knew himSelf why
passed away with the
moke when a curious-
ore him, and saying
; take this amulet, it is the true
ppeared—like a five-dollar bill.
ago; about the only charm now-
makea man invisi
into debt: the old amulets are all i
y pleased with his gift, and re-
next day he would have some
his state might become a

ger cent. of metal have
tats.

A MAN, ninety-
Unity, N. H., with
1y shot four squir
gprce belonged to a.

three years old, living in
out using spectacles, recent-
: with an old musket which
soldier in the Revolutionary

he made it, but

ms. Yet the
orkmen are high a
r North Irishman earns fr
k in Philadelphia, owns h
and brings up his son to the

his own father,
followed in Glasgow or L0
The American boy has not learne
slow road to comfort from his fath
There was the sa

“ The other night at a
so unfortunate as to break

erhusband politely
Ought I to replace it?
it do to send the

considered eti uette
with its own '

heard your wish these skilled w

charm,” he dies IF Dakota is half what Dakota men rep

be the Capitol should be moved out there
patriotism of correspond-
Is as wonderful as it is
y. All who go there catch the
ow, if any, ever recover from it.

if St. Louis have united
to the merchants, farm-
Ootton belt advising them
system and to discourage
ge acreage of cotton this
their laiqu first. to the
an O givm
me to “I: chitin-g of

game trade whic cuts and statesmen
He was great]

solved that the

Timeot-ton factors 0
in a cimular addressed
ers, and tenants of the
to abandon the credit
the planting of a lar
year, and to devote

little monotonous.
In the morning,
ment among his 11
visible and cute
was at breakfast, and he
bate, Muldoon, is the meanest
-—-grinds the last nickel out of
ways in a hilarious state beca
time—disgustingly rich, and
himl Visit him only to eat
to him ’cause We
jackals take him i"
with a sorer heart than he had
He reached his bazar, which he
and at what he saw would have
t it was immaterial

me report from manufac-
per. s ap, shoes, clothes
very industry,
can boy of the cl

rofessions is not to be found
y because he is barred
the trades unions, but more because he d
them. To this general rule
two notable exceptions:
e shops. Each of these
tive American appren-
said the superintendent
s, “ hundreds of appli-
m we can find a

thinking to have some amuse-
eighbors, he made himself in-
use while the family
“That Old repro-
man in this burg
a poor man—a1-
use drunk all the
he knews it, blame
his victuals; speak
have to;—may the jumping

china, silver. or metaL
address it to your
b a messenger.

shipbuilders, cutlets—e
but two. The Ameri
does not enter the 1 fig“ “0 To
- o e e .
m the trades” part broken one would be very “ ha
gnyh mogeyto thfil lad
i est agree. po
thit a hostess counts
her guests ma. bring about: andto be too
as thou h the
hostess valued her sm
ships and the pleasure of her
y testify to his or her trio in

“some”, a

the arti
We know of gentlemen who

rig: in doing vSabinet and

e
elightful to see men take
surroundings. Not '

s the refined man as a confessed love for
surroundmgs' : and it is a
means when her husband

choose to go into smaller portion of theirti
there are, howeve
printing and machin
trades is crowded wit
tices. “ VVeturnaway,”
of a great engine work
cants in a year, for who
Will Herbert Spencer, or som
man, gave :13 an explanation of

TB]: sudden death of the Hon. Timothy
eneral, recalls the fact that
dents have died in off] ,
of the Cabinet
ay during their Official
Howe, the lat-
net was in 1859,
n died of mala-
Presidency Of .

owe, Postmaster-G
while several Presi
comparatively few member:

est thought the

sideration. and tho
any pretty gift olli
Hm? Hcsmxn.
have employed the
l: holstery work with

a wad,“ of course. It is d
an interest in their home

term. Before the de
est instance of death in the Cabi
when Postmaster-General Brow
rial chills dur

entered unsoeu
torn his hair bu
cashi:r making false entri
money in sprculating in Chic
clerks putting the change i
and cracking jokes and chin
doon’s expense.
dreamed of before.

but he had none, ju
He rushed away,
friends by the way
paused to listen.

some fault to relate: he heard h
in a wav that one would think
These were his closest frien
often borrowed money of him,
them had a good word for him.
he mut‘ered: “0h, Allah! lia
who has his f

e equally wise fldgtigengdglg or
this problem of

es, and using the
ago grain, and his
a the wrong place,
aware at old Mul-
saw things he had never
His heart would have broken

 

Civnhz‘ ' ed Savages.

., school some curious re-
d in the Government’s en-
children of the wild In-

AT the Carlisle, Pa
Silltl have been reach
deavorto educate the

A RICH Chinaman of Rock
to whom his wife lately p
has been entertaining his friends
exuberance corresponding to his joy.
s, in detachments of 150, to a feast
cost $1,300 and made eve
and even then he was not satis
ed his intention to hold a second celeb
following week in Evanston and a t
month in San Francisco.

ON the slopes of the volcan
in Central America, exists a
spring, which the natives
During seven co
flows freely, when, at a 6
suddenly disappears and t
becomes dry. At the end
seven years the water begi
last suspension was fr

Springs, W o—

wii‘e of restricted
ing to spend his e
and comfort of their cm.
and deft bands can
rious effects which
artisans were always called in to
lect cretonno of small figures and
which red, pale blue, and (1
Choose patterns of small flowe
This will cover your f

and passing a crowd of his
side he heard his name men-
Every one had
imself maligned
he was out for

In the way of. industries the Indian
to be blacksmiths, ca
harness-makers,
make their own
lish a little paper—to
do general farm w
are paid for the
an they often beco

rpeuters, tinners, s cc and
to make and iron wagons, to
garments, to print—they pub-
take care of stock, and to
ork. To encourage them
ir work—so are the girls—
me much elated over their

produce many artistic and luxu»
could not be aflonded if outside
subdued colors in
ark olive a pear.
rs and leaves, of: no
urniture beautifully

pretty mixed (not
, and strew about it, in
tables, doors, fire-place
asyou can aficrd
Fleecy white lamb‘
well-mixed colors,

your wooden brackets an
h the woodwork of your

yet not one of o of San Salvador,

curious intermittent
call the “Fugitive
nsccutive years it

 

ppy is the man
ace at his back,” and in misery
too utter to utter he proceeded
There he heard his servants sa
ger would stay awa
time, and then ru
viling him and his riches,
ments for a grand orie
wages with cimetery thr

girls learn housework—to cook
sweep and clean, and clear the
and mend and dam—-
stockings to darn as well
0 disgust a girl with civ-
4,000 pieces weekly in the
us handmaiden in the
ishment, the Indian girl

 

 

 

 

 

y they wished
y so they could
n him down, re-
and making arrange-
ntal strike for higher
eats to kill him if the

s w 1 ts, d
tables, to iron ' 00 ma an
they have all the boys’
as their own—enough t

ilization, and there are

 

of another period of

om 1873 to 1880, and in J an-
year the water promptly re-

poles wood which
furniture. Put u

 

 

cotfa paper relieved

modern aesthetic establ agmnst pale grounds.

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

    

l

 

 

Fireside Ballads.

O
CODY’S CORRAL;
OR, THE SCOUTS AND TIH.‘ SIOUX.
nv “BUCKBKIN sax.”
A mount-inclosed valley, close sprinkled with fair

flowers,
As if a shattered rainbow had fallen there in show-

 

 

 

ers;

Bright-plumagled birds were warbling their songs
among t 6 trees,

01' fiugtering their tiny wings in the cooling Western

reeze.

The cottonwoods, by mountain’s base, on every side
high tower,

And the dreamy haze in silence marks the sleepy
noontide hour.

East, south and north, to meet the clouds the lofty
mounts arise,

Guarding this little valley—a will Western Paradise.

Pure and untrampled as it looks, this lovely flower-
strewn sod—

One scarce would think that e‘cr, by man, had such
a sward been trod.

But yonder, See those wild mustangs by lariat held
in check,

Tearing up fairest flora, which fairies might bcdeck;

And, near a camp fire's smoke, we see men standing
all around—

”I‘is stran e, for from them has not come a single
wor or sound.

Standing by cottonwood, with arms close folded on
his breast,

Gazing with his eagle eyes up to the mountain‘s

cr

Tall and commanding is his form, and graceful is
his mien:

As fair in face, as noble, has seldom here been seen.

A score or more of frontiersmen recline upon the
ground,

But starting soon upon their feet, by sudden snort
and bound!

A horse has sure been frightened by strange scent on
the breeze,

And glances now by all are cast, beneath the tower-
ing trees.

A quiet sign their leader gives, and mustangs now
are brought.

And, by swift-circling lasso, a loose one fast is
caught.

Then thundering ‘round the mountain’s dark ada-
mantine side,

A hundred hideous, painted, and fierce Sioux war-
riors ride;

While, from their throats, the well-known and hor-
rible death-knell,

The wild. bloodcurdling war-whoop, and the fierce
and fiendish yell,

Strikes the ears of all, now ready to fight, and e’en

to die,

In that mount-inclosed valley, beneath that blood-
red skyl

Now rings throughout the open, on all sides clear
and shrill

The dreaded
fa o Bil .

0n, like a whirlwind, then they dash—the brave
scouts of the plains—

Their rifle-barrels soft caressed by mustangs’ flying
manes

0n, like an avalanche they sweep, through the tall
prairie grass;

Down, fast upon them, swooping, the dread and sav—
age mass!

Wild ells of fierce bravado come, and taunts of

eep despair;

While, through the battle-smoke, there flaunts each
feathered tuft of hair.

And loudly rings the wancry of fearless Buffalo Bill;

And loudl ring the savage yells, which make the
bloo run chill!

The gurgling death-cry mingle: with the mustang’s
shrillest scream,

And sound of dull and sodden falls, and bowie's
brightest gleam;

At length there slowly rlsccthe smoke from heaps of

slain,

Whose wild war-cries will never-more ring on the air
again.

Then, anting and bespattered from the showers of

cam and blood,

The scouts once more have halted ’neath tho shady
cottonwood.

In haste they are reloading, and preparing for a

la 1y.

While the scattered foe, now desperate, are yelling
in the valley.

Again, are heard revolvers, with their rattling sharp

re rt;

Again, tggscoutsmsoon to charge, down on that
wild cohort.

Sioux fall around, Ike dead reeds when flaunt
northers blow,

And rppld sink in death before their hated pale-face

06!
8nd smothered now is music, from the mountain’s

rippling rill,

Buth mahsindmdefrom our brave
Buffalo Bill,

Who, grough the thickest coinage, charged over in

e van,
And cheered faint hearts around him, due. first the
fight began!

demoralized, the Sioux fly fast with band

And glancee’cast of terror along that vale of death'
While the victors quick dismounted, and looking all

around,

On their dead and mntp‘gled enemies, whose curses
strewed the grou ;

“I had sworn I would avenge them "—wsre the
words of Buffalo Bill——

“ The Thong-iii: and their infants, they slow at Iodi-
c e .

Our work is done—done nobly—I looked for that
from you;

Boys, when a cause k just, you need but tostand
firm and true i"

The Magic Ship;

The Freebooters of Sandy Hook.

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

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRLHAM,

AUTHOR or “ran LEAGUE or wanna," “3mm
BILL'B carp,” “ 1mm, ran KUTINEIE,” :70.

CHAPTER XIII.
BOUND BY AN OATH.

TH]: sudden coming of the Lily of the Light-
house upon the scene of their wrong-doing, cer-
tainly nonplused the freeb00ters.

Their haunt was so remote, at that time, from
any one, or any h'ibitation, and the few vessels
driven by stress of weather to find anchorage
in the Hook haven were so careful to give the
shore as wide a berth as possible, that the out-
laws little dreamed of interruption from any

one.

“ The Lighthouse Lily i” broke from the lips
of nearly every man, which at once proved
that she was not unknown to them.

She had heard all that passed, and confident
that she must act rompt. to save the young
officer, she had bo dly con ronted his foes just
as the were bearing him away to death.

Lit e had he dreamed of such an interrup-
tion, though he had hoped that his men, sent by
the young girl, might come upon the scone in
time to save him.

His first feeling was for the maiden, who had
thus come into the lion’s lair, as it were; but
then he seemed to feel that she must be sup-
ported by those who had not yet shown them-
selves, but would at the proper moment.

Boldly she faced the outlaws, seeming to let
her eyes rest upon every face. and then from
ber 11 came the words, spoken calmly, and
with rmuess:

“ Anchor Tom, are you not transgressing your
orders?”

Robin Sherwood started.

The maiden had called the outlaw leader by
name, so could not be unknown to him.

What could it mean?

“ I hain’t done nothing, miss,” was the sullen

l .

MB You were about to kill this oflcer.”

“ Who says so?” doggedly asked the man.

“ I say so.”

“ You hain’t

“ I have for
heard all.

“ Well, he wouldn’t take oath not to betray
us miss, so, you see, we had to protect our-
se ves.

lbattle-cry of him whom men call But.

D0691

 

 

 

ot no goof, miss.”
have n standing yonder and

“ You had no right to act in the matter. i

“ You found him wounded and shipwrecked

upon the beach, and you should have taken him '

to the city, or to your chief.”

“ Perhaps you is right, miss.”

“ I am right, and your chief shall hear of this
intended red work of yours, unless you at once
obey my orders.”

‘f I am ready, miss, to do all you command.”

“ Then let four of your men make a stretcher .
and bear this gentleman to my boat.”

“ We will do it, miss; but you won’t speak to
the chief about it?”

“That depends upon your future good-be-
havior.”

 

“ If you take him away. he will betray us.”

“Hell do it, sure,” chimed in several others
of the band.

Lily looked troubled, for she seemed to feel in
a uandar what to do.

obin herwood had listened with 'intense T

surprise to all that had been said, wondering at
her strange power over the desperate crew.

Now he saw that the words of Anchor Tom, l
about his betraying them, seemed to have ‘
struck home, and he was at. a loss to know what I
would be the upshot of it all.

Seeing their advantage, several of the outlaws
said guickly:

“ es, miss, he’ll betray us, and then you
know what will follow.”

“ He will not betray you,” said Lily, firmly.

“ Yes, but he will,” urged Anchor Tom.

“I toy that he will not, for he will give his
pledge not to do so.”

“ We tried him on that, and it was no go.”

Turning to Robin Sherwood, Lily sa'id:

“ You have heard What these men say?”

“Yes, all.”

“ They are aware that you know them as they

 

 

are."

“The Sn dy Hook Freebooters?’ quietly said
Sherwood.

6‘ Yes.”

“Their looks betrayed them villains, before
their words told the secret,” was the bold re-
sponse.

“ Well, they are outlaws, and known as the
Freebooters of Sandy Hook.

“I tell you this frankly, sir.”

“ And what are they to you?” he asked, with
something like scorn in his tone.

The lovaly face flushed, and an angry light
came in the beautiful eyes; but she answered
calmly: ~

“ I do not wonder at your question, Captain
Sherwood; but I will not answer it.

“ Sufficient for you to knowithat i am anx-

 

. \3 llf/"w/WA"/
 “Ii/[1,936.

ill," I

\

   

I

ions to save your life, and I can only do so by
your giving me your pledge not to betray what
you have this day discovered.

“You were cast upon this shore and thereby
you have found out a secret, and I beg that you
will go from here without considering it your
duty to make your discovery known.’

“ Duty prompts me to do so.”

“ True; but the sea is large and there is work
for you to do there.

“ Give me your pledge that you will remem-
ber what occurs here only as a dream, and keep
the secret.”

“ Is this a demand?” he asked, coolly.

“No, it is an entreaty, an ap al to you,” she
said, with a pathos that touche him.

“ Then I make the ’pledge,” he frankly said.

“I must ask more, she replied.

“ What more?”

“ Your oath.”

Ho frowned and responded:

“ My word l bold as my oath.”

“ And so would I, sir; but with these men it
is different.

“ Hold up your right hand, Captain Sher-
woo l i”

He obeyed in silence.

“ Do vou swear by your hope of Heaven that
you will not betray the secret you have this
(Ilfykdriscovsred of the Freebooters of Sandy

00 l

“ I do !”

He spoke the words firmly, looking her
squarely in the eyes, and she asked:

“ Men, are you satisfied 1"

A murmur of assent ran around the group,
and then the maiden said authoritatively:

“ Now carry that officer to my boatl”

A litter of oars was quickly made, and Robin
Sherwood was placed thereon, for, while he
could stand upright, his injuries were such that
he was unable to walk, and Lighthouse Lily
had seen the agony he suffered, when she forced
him to walk a few steps away from the Free-
booters, that she might urge him tomake the
pledge not to betray them.

Then four of the men took up the litter and
started along the beach the way they had come,
while Lil y of the Light—house tarried to have a
few Words with Anchor Tom, greatly to that
worthy’s disgust, for he found himself a rer
man after her departure, for she had do ended
offl him the watch, ring and purse of the young
0 cer.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
THE SHERWOODS.

IN an aristocratic quarter of the City of New
York, at the time of which I write, stood an
elegant mansion, the home of wealth and re-
finement.

Its grounds occupied an entire square upon
the west side. and its lawn ran down to the
banks of the Hudson, for then the presence of
traffic had not made that grand stream a busy
mart as it is to-day for miles beyond the B'ittcry.

The mansion was of etc, .e, large, with great
comfortable rooms, wide halls, and an air of
luxury about it that was very inviting.

 

"Do yon mar not to betray the secret you have this

 

The grounds were handsomely laid out, and

summer-houses were here and there among the
ornamental trees to invite repcse upon a warm
summer day.

But when the reader beholds the handsome
abode, an air of gloom is upon all.

Twilight is coming on, and the servants light
the lamps in a noiseless way, while from the
sitting-room comes the sound of weeping.

woman is sobbing as though her very
heart-strings would break, and a voice low and
sympathetic is breathing words of consolation.

But it is a mother that sobs for her first-born,
her idol, and, like Rachel weeping for her
children, she refuses to be Comforted.

An hour before an officer in full uniform had
visited the mansion, and his mission was a sad
and painful one.

He had gone there to tell the haughty mother
that her son had been lost at sea.

It was Lucas Lcnsdale, and in a few words
he had told his sad story, and the mansion,
which that night was to have been a scene of
gayety, in honor of the birthday anniversary of
its young mistress, Corinne Sherwood, was at
once plunged into a house of mourning.

Servants had been dispatched to those in-
vited, telling them of the sad occurrence, and a
messei‘ger had been sent to a young belle and
heiress, Celeste Cerras, asking her immediate
presence at the Sherwood manor.

Quickly had she obeyed the summons, tolearn
that the one to whom she was atfianced was ly-
ing in the depths of the sea.

Bitt—rly mourning for the pain he had given,
Lucas Lonsdale had departed, leaving the mo-
ther, the daughter, and the expectant bride to-
gether.

1n the sitting-room, the favorite resort of the
family, they were gathered, the mother sobbing
pitifully, her daughter trying to soothe her woe,
and Celeste Cerras pacing the floor with a face
white and hard.

It was an elegantly furnished room, with
divans and easy-chairs upon all sides, books, a
guitar and harp to amuse, and upon the walls
hung the portraits of three generations of an-
Cestors.

Over the mantle was the likeness of a man in
the uniform of a general, and with a face that
was manly and kind.

It was General Sherwood, who had fallen in
battle with the Indians some years before.

Upon a divan, her head buried in her hands,
reclined Mrs. Sherwood, a stately. handsome
woman of forty five, and by her side knelt a
fair young form, her daughter Corinne, whose
deeds of kindness were known to all the poor of
her vicinity, and whose sweet, lovely face, the

». “i _
WW 

."' vpa’

é,

reflex of her pure heart and soul, won the love
of all who know her.

She was dressed in pure white, and, instead of
her joyful celebration of her birthday anniver-
sary, she was called upon to mourn for the bro-
ther she idolized.

Celeste Cerras, pacing the floor with monoto-
nous manner, was a queenly woman, and it was
said of her that she had no heart, and had sent
scores of men away in utter despair, having won
their love to amuse her as a toy.

She was an orphan, but had been left an
heiress of vast wealth, it was said, and lived
with her uncle and guardian, Commodore Carr,
who, having no children of his own, had adopt-
ed her.

In coming from her home in Baltimore, after
her parents death, the vessel on which she was
a passenger to New York had been captured by
a pirate craft: but a few hours after an armed
schooner hove in sight, gave chase, and, after a
hot fight, made the outlaw strike his black flag
to a foe far his inferior in guns and men.

The officer who commanded the little cruiser
was Lieutenant Robin Sherwood, and thus it
was that the two had met.

Whether it was the wealth of Celeste Cerras,
her beauty, or her accomplishments that won
the admiration of Mrs. Sherwood, no one knew:
but she set her heart upon it that her son should
make the maiden his wife, and with such infinite
tact did she work to that end, that the young
couple became engaged just before Robin
sailed upon his cruise in the Quickstep.

Thus the reader can understand how sad the
blow fell u on three hearts, when Lucas Lons-
dale had to d his sad story of the loss of his gal-
lant commander. and that his life had been sac-
rificed in his effort to save Midshipman Park
Pelham from death.

CHAPTER XV.
THE TWO VISITORS.

A KNOCK at the sittingroom door caused each
of its three occupants to st rt, for their nerves
were unstrung by their sorrow.

It was Bailey, the old butler and factotum,
and his honest face was as sorrowful as those he
saw before him, for he had dearly loved his

oung master.

“ Colonel Bertie Grayson presents his deepest
sympathy to you all, ma’am, and begs that he
mav see you,” said the old butler.

Now, Colonel Bertie Grayson was a personage
of importance at the Sherwood mansion, for a
few weeks before, he had become engaged to
Corinne, a consummation seeming to be far
more desired by the gentleman and Mrs. Sher-
wood, than by thc maiden.

But the colonel, who had once been an
English GfilCer, was reputed to be immensely
rich, was a younger Son of a noble, with ros-
pocts of inheriting a title should some half ozen
senior brothers die off. and had a certain fasci-
nation of manner about him that seemed irre-
sistible with both men and women.

He admitted having passed forty years upon
this glob1 terrestial. but did not look thirtyrfive,
while Corinne Sherwood was just upon the
threshold of seventeen.

 

 

 

 

The colonel lived in bachelor quarters on
Fulton street, then a fashionable quarter, kept
his horses, and a foreign ralet that looked like
a pirate and knew how to hold his tongue upon
all matters pertaining to himself and his
master.

“Say to Colonel Grayson that we will see
him,” said Mrs. Sherwood, with an emphasis up-
on the pronoun.

At tne same time, with a great effort she
arose to her feet, dried her eyes and faced the
door, while Corinne threw herself upon the
divan just vacated by her mother, and buried
her face in her hands.

Just then the door swung open and Bailey
ushered in Colonel Bertie Grayson, announcing
him in a subdued tone.

A tall man, with military carriage, and a
darki face, with winning smile and manners en-
tere .

He was dressed in deep black, and his clothes
were of faultless fit, while now he wore a look
that was full of deepest sympathy, in spite of
the slight smile which seemed habitual to him.

“ My dear Mrs. Sherwood, you have my
heartfull of sympathy,” he said, in a low, rich-
toned voice, grasping the haul of Mrs. Sher—
wood, and then taking that of Celeste Cerras,
he Continued:

“God knows I had rather it had been myself,
for I am alone in the world.”

“ Yet you have one to love you as dearly,” and
Mrs. Sherwood motioned with her stately head
toward the form on the divan.

“ I hope so from my inmost heart,” he said,
softly, and cro—sing the room he laid his hand
lightly upon the jetty curls of Corinne, and
said:

“ Corinne, my heart bleeds for you; and be-
lieve me, I will do all in my power to fill the
place of the noble brother you have lost.”

In an instant she was upon her feet, gazing
him straight in the eyes, while she said, pas-
sionately:

“ Oh, if you would only be a brother to me
and not what you are, then I could love you with
mylwhole heart!”

e shrunk back at her words, while her mo-
ther cried, sternly:

“ Corinne! my child!”

'(Ii‘hen turning to Colonel Grayson, she contin‘
l)? I

“ Poor child, she is so overwhelmed with grief
she knows not what she says.”

For an instant the young girl seemed about
to make reply, but once more the door opened
and Bailey appearing, she dropped again to her
place upon the divan.

 

’

 

day discovered of the Preebooters of Sandy Hook ‘2”

“A young girl to see you, ma’am,” said the
butler.

“ I can see no one, Bailey, and please say so
emphatically,” was Mrs. Sherwood’s stern re-
joinder.

“But, ma’am, she says she is the bearer of
important tidings which you should know at
once,” urged Bailey.

“ Who is she?”

“I never saw her before, ma’am; but she is
dressed like a sailor- irl.”

“ A sailor—girl, Bailey?”

“Permit me to see her for you, my dear
madam,” said Colonel Grayson.

“No, thank you, colonel, I will permit her to
come in, for she may be a fisher-girl from the
lower bay, with some tidings of my poor boy.
Lieutenant Lonsdnle told me he had made an
offer of a reward to the fishermen if they found
the body,” and Mrs. Sherwood jerked the last
words out, while her lips uivered.

“I will see the gir , ailey,” she said, con-
trolling her emotion.

The butler disappeared, and soon after reén-
tered, accompanied by a slender form, clad in
blue cloth, and with a sailor-collar falling upon
her shapely shoulders.

A sun—hat was upon her head, and beneath it
was a face, the beauty of which caused the colo—
nel and the three ladies to fairly start with sur-
prised admiration, for Corinne had risen to her
feet at the entrance of the visitor.

There was a slight shrinking of the young girl
as she saw before her so many; but, with per-
fect composure, she said:

“ Is this Mrs. Sherwood?”

“I am Mrs. Sizerwood my child, and may I
ask who you are?” said the lady, not unkind y,
for the sweet face at once won a. kind welcome.

“It is not of myself, madam, that I have
cometospeak, but to bring you good tidings,
which will drive the sorrow from your faces I
now see resting u on them,” was the reply.

“My son lilit’S.” almost Shrieked Mrs. Sher-
wood, to quickly add, in a low, trembling tone:

“ Or have you only found his body?”

“Your son lives, Mrs. Sherwood,” were the

uivering words. dclivered in a tone that showed
t e joy it gave to make the glad tidings known.

Instantly the maiden beheld four faces peer-
ing into her own, while Mrs. Sherwood grasped
her shoulder with a grip that made her wince,
while she asked:

“Lives, did you say, girl?”

“ Yes, mndum.”

“Thank God for those blessed words.

“ Do you hear, Corinne, our brother is alive!

“ Celeste! did you hear er words?

“But where, child, is my noble boy, for I
would go to him at onCe.

“Quick! tell me. or go with me!” and the
mother‘s heart. was all uglow.

“ Captain Sherwood, madam, clung to the
wreckage of his vessel, and was cast ashore
noon the beach. many miles from here,” said
the maiden, softly

“ Why, then, id be not come to us, instead
of sending!”

“ Because, modem. his long exposure and
struggle for life had utterly broken him down,

 

while he was also slightly injured by being
dashed against the wreckage.”

“ My son ill, suffering, and I not with him?

“I will go at once 1”

“That will be impossible, madam.”

“Impossible! and why?” haughtin demanded
Mrs. Sherwood.

“Because he is not where you can visit him,”
was the cold response.

‘ a“, In Heaven’s name, girl, tell me where he
is.

“ Safe, madam, and with those who will care
for him as tenderly as you would.”

“ This is remarkable,” said Mrs. Sherwood.

“ It is indeed, madam.”

“My girl, make known at once to Mrs. Sher-
wood where her son, the captain, is,” said Colonel
Bertie Grayson, sternly.

His words turned the eyes of the young girl
full upon him, and she seemed slightly to start
as she met hisvgaze.

But she answered firmly:

“ I was Commanded, sir, by Captain Sher-
wood to seek his home and make kn0wn to his
mother that he was alive, and would come to
her as soon as he was able to do so, which will
be in a few days.”

“ And you refuse to divulge his where-
abouts?”

“I do, sir.”

“But you must.”

The young girl smiled, and there was a look
of defiance in the smile, while she said:

“I am the best judge of what I must and
must not do.”

“ Much as I thank you, girl, for the glad
news you bring, I will have to find a way to
force you to tell all that you know,” said Mrs.
Sherwood, sternly.

The defiant look increased upon the beautiful
face, while Corinne stepped forward and said:

“ Mother, this is unkind, for she has a right
to withhold what she pleases, especially as she
has already been the bearer of such joyful news
for us all.”

It was seldom that Corinne Sherwood took
such a determined stand, and her mother, Colo-
nel Grayson and Celeste looked at her in amaze-
ment, and noticing the angry look upon Mrs.
Sherwood’s face, the fair young messenger said
quickly, with a smile of thanks at her generous
defender:

“ Mrs. Sherwood, I have brought you the
news that your son 5 life was spared, though he
is slightly injured, but in a few days will return
to his home.

“He is among those who will care for him,
and more I cannot tell you, so I will bid you
good—night.”

“No, you must, you shall clear up this mys-

ery.

“You bring me glad tidings that my son
lives, and yet you refuse to say where he is, or
with whom, they I may fly to him at once, and
I will compel you to speak.”

“ Mother!” said Corinne, reproachfully.

“Mrs. Sherwood, you have no p0wer to com-
pell me to speak,” was the calm reply of the
gir .

“Answer me! did my son request that you
give not his place of retirement?”

The face of the young girl reddened, but she
answered frankly:

“ It was my wish and he acquiesced in it.”

“ Captain Sherwood must certainly be se-
verely injured, as to be so weak as to be
swerved by the will of a common fisher—girl,”
said Celeste Cerras, scornfully.

The eyes of the young girl flashed at her
words, and a hasty reply seemed to spring to
her lips; but smotherin her feelings, she smiled
scornfully, and with a s ight bow turned away.

“ Colonel Grayson, I beg of you to detain that

rl.

“I will have this strange mystery attending
my son cleared up,” cried Mrs. Sherwood, ex-
citedly.

“Pardon me, my dear madam, if I decline
and be good enough to allow her to depart,” sci
the colonel, in a si ificant tone, which Mrs.
Sherwood knew he a deep meaning, for she
said nothing, and the fair messenger, who had
half turned at her words, as though at bay,
smiled sweetly toward Corinne, and glided from
the room.

“ Now, madam, I will beg you to excuse me,
while I pla the spy upon that young girl’s
movements,’ said the colonel.

“It is unmanly, Colonel Grayson, to dog the
steps of one who has done good rather than
evi , and that one a young and innocent girl,”
said Corinne, hotly.

The colonel started at the cutting words, and
his dark face flushed; but he bowed low, and
said calmly:

“ I am serving our mother, Miss Sherwood,
and even though anger you, I shall follow upon
the track of the very mysterious personage who
has Bust departed.”

“ 0 so, colonel, I beg of ou, and upon your
return, Corinne, foolish gir , will thank you,”
said Mrs. Sherwood, and the gentleman hastily
departed to play the spy u n the Lily of the
Light-house, for who and w at she was he had
determined to fathom for a motive known only
to himself.

( To be continued—commenced in No. 20.)

 

 

A Profane Crow at Church.

BILL SYKKS kept a crow in his whisky saloon
on Texas turnpike, near Little Rock. Arkansas,
which had picka up the words “Darn you”
from the conversation of Bill’s customers, so
that he could say it quite plainly. One day, in
a knock-down and drag-out at the groggery, the
crow became so frightened that he flew away
from home and took up quarters in a tumbled-
down and dilapidated settlement meeting-house,
which was only opened twice or three times a
year, on the visit of the “circuit-rider.”

Two days after the crow’s occupancy the
church was thrown open for preaching, and a
large crowd assembled, among whom was a
very old lady who was compelled to use crutch-
es in walking, and who took her seat in the
“front pew” and was soon deeply absorbed in
the eloquence of the reacher. The reverend
gentleman, however, ad scarcely got under
full headway and commenced thundering his
anathemas against all grades of sinners, when
a hoarse, croaking voice from above uttered the
ominous words:

“ Darn you I”

The preacher and congregation looked aghast
at such profanity, and each peered into his
nei libor’s face in vain to detect some signs of
gui t. Quiet was at length restored and the ser-
mon proceeded, but before ten minutes had
elapsed the ominous “ Darn you!” electrified
the audience, and just as the preacher cast his
eyes upward to search for the delinquent the
crow flew down from his perch and, alighting
on the open Bible, calmly surveyed the terrified
crowd, and gave another doieful croak:

“ Darn you l”

The effect was simultaneous. Giving one
startled and terrified glance at the intruder, the
preacher s rung through the window and rushed
off throug the woods, closely followed by his
panic-stricken congreg tion, who piled out of
the building pell-mell after him.

In the general scramble the old lady with the
crutches had been knocked down in the church,
where she lay unable to rise, and, on observing
her, the crow, who was after something to eat,
flew down beside her, and very knowingly cock-
ing his eye up at her, again croaked:

“ Darn you i”

The old lady eyed him savagely for a few
moments, and then burst forth in a tone of
reckless defiance:

“Yes, and darn you, too! I had nothing to
do with getting up this pesky meeting—and you
know it, too!”

The poor old soul had mistaken the crew for
a messenger of the devil, if not himself in as-
sumed shape, and concluded to try and pro-
pitiave. if possible, the wrath of his Satanic
Majesty by denying all complicity in the affair.

The world is full of just such peop‘e—good
L-"rd and good devil individuals, according to
the circumstances in which they may be placed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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He favored Jasper with u scowl

REMEMBERED.

and obserVed, sarcastically:
me for once, are you?
and one thing today.
pany, and you’re our

  

Oh, you’re here on ti

  

Fond memory often brings me back that olden,

 

I’m secretary of the com
employee, so you don _ .
your oar into conversation until you
0.”

  
   

opc‘s 'bright star was beaming our life-

   

Joy's roses, sweet and fragrant, bloomed all along
Nor dreamed we that t

Ah, little thou

 
    

heir beauty would fade,

  

ght we then, love, that time could

 
  
  
   
  
 
  

Or sorrow‘s voice awaken care from its slumber 0“ are secretar

deep'— .
Our footsteps turn from flowery paths to tread the you choose to find fa

factory, you have a right so to
And over graves of hope and joy the old love linger-

’t want to be Putting in

Jasper smiled with as much coolness as he
could show, despite the irritation he felt at the
other’s tone, and replied:

“ If I’m spoken to I shall certainly reply. As
y of the company,
my official superior at the office. If
ult with my work at the
do; but here, in

mv private capacity as a gentleman—’

 
  
  
   

Percy iii terruptc
Long, long ago we parted, and silent, bitter tears

Have dimmed the brightness of mine eyes, since

(1 him with a coarse laugh, as

“ A gentleman ! That’s good.”

  
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
    
 
 
 
  
 
  
    
  
 
 

thou and I last in

The tender incmorit-s of the past Inked in the d to knock Perc

Have made the days seem loneliness, o'erburdened himsplf sumC’ent’Y to
I never can orget thee, through all life’s toil and

bly you call yourself a
care,—
The old wound throbs as

own I’m not like you.
painfully as in the part-

Thy name I breathe when kneeling at night in fer-

My early love yet thrills me wit Pace, as JBSPPP Said: ' ’
‘ “In my private capac1ty as a man I
you are, and if you think you can

you’re richer than I, you

11 its strange mag-

TO—day we live as strung

era—our paths divided lie;
Other ties have bound

me, and my heart but an-

r flushed scarlet, and for a moment felt
y down, but be controlled

'“liulllmluulionlnl‘mlhg

 

as he saw him, the voice of old Seth Welby behind his elbow, The waiter vanish
old lady in a black si
cap, with “ hous
line of her face a
and waited for orders.
gentleman took her aside and said

low tone, to which Mrs.

ed, and very soon a
lk dress and white wi
imprinted on every
ure, came into the room

and save myself. Why won’t you help me, Mr.
Ray ?”

thought Icould work, but you

on were nearly getting locked up
y I saw yourgas lighted. What

Jasper took up his pencil and made dots on
' per to hide his great embarrassment, as he
makes you Work

“To keep me fro

absent-minded repl

“I would help you if I dared, but you don’t
re spoken

in thinking,” was the half- seem to see that my motives are sure to be mis-

“ What’s the time, Mr. Van Cott replied:
“Certainly, sir.
“ Yes, ma’am, yes,” returned t
all means, Mrs. Van Cott.
now, or I’d sta
you ma’am, o

“Misconstruedi how?”
brown eyes wide.

He made more dots than before as he an-
y, but distinctly:
that I was a fortune-hunter,
antage of my position near

“ early seven.

she asked, opening her
of drawings there,

Why, you’ve a regular stock
enough to keep the carvers
k, I should say. At this rate
0 go on a trip very soon.”
Where?” asked Jasper, 17
y wood, of course. That’s
uite a judge (f woods,
ots of any man I ever
’11 have to go out as soon as the lum-
ook for something new in

ie senator; “ by
I’ve got to go awn
myself. Very sorry to troub e
ou'll be able t

y at all, senator.”

y went away very soon re-
ork-basket and

trying to take adv
turning with a w
pile of work, when she sat down

windows and began to sew in a
with her eyes everyw
particularly sha
oung mistress and the

The color flam

ed up all over her face as she
made him an i

and got in the cheapest mperative gesture fOr si.en0e, sny~
hardwood finish.”
“ The sooner the better,”
as he rose up and pu
“I’m getting tired

I understand now. Oh, how I
You are right, and I
afford to hel me.
p088. Say no more.

her work, and rp on the figures

handsome gentle-
g at the table by the next

returned Jasper,

was wrong. You cannot
t away his draw-

am doomed I sup

window, after the so like all the rest

1 z
I, was wrong. Proba-

gentleman, and if so, I
But I was about to say

As he spoke he came up to Percy with such
menace on his face that

of the world. You dare not
r fear of others’ opinions.”

, looking up at her
dare help you, and I will
u this way. It is myself I

9 went home to his
ing-house he began to think to
haps he had done ill to abandon
independence even for the splen
to him, if it were to pay for his

uiet little board-
imself that per-
his freedom and
did bribe offered
peace of mind and

per, he hardly knew what
its a hard thin

help a woman, fo
“ You are wro
more steadily.

help you, but not i

g to keep the attention
oman one worships is flit-

ting about the table, every now and then loan-

the other recoiled a

DO you hear me?”

      
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
    
  

For the sad remembrance of that golden slimmer Percy had turned a l
but he answered scorn
“I don’t fight with an
You’ll have to keep your
and as for your threats,
over to the police, _
You’ll find that it won’t d
m friend, without
friends than I think

Comes back each ho
life’s calm re ose.
Between us the dar
Mcans cruel sep

ur to haunt me and disturb

chasm yawnln deep and wide
arution ’nud all li e‘
’Twere better far if thou and I in

 

early years had
Than live to meet, to madly love, and then be torn

 

 

 

 

ittle paler than his wont,

fear, not the world.
yould say what I dar
It would be—”

compel him to look quietl

Percy making love to E i
eyes, while he had to sit
lackey, not fit to be spoken to
His angry mood drove him
in the evening to the theater,
where he saw Lawrence
ing Othello, and began to feel for t

If I were as rich as you, I

on and see Stephen 0 not say now. But to say

th Wallis before his
as if he were a
y his lordly rival.
out of the house
for the first time

mg on your shoulder i
way, to see what
most distracting
guments, pro and con,
and, as far as disturha
concentration of thought
Such was the case wi
hours were on, and h

u an absent sort of
you are drawing,
engaging you in ar-
on every trivial point,
3, rendering any

in as gOOd
insult me He had paused,
’11 find yourself wondering wa .

“ Dishonora Is,” he answered.
had never entered

and she put the question in a.

sper Ra , as the

into this engagement with
0 had not yet

y but my equals.

place in my company,
I shall simply hand you
try to execute them.
0 to buck against me,
you’ve a great many more

you have.”

 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
   

Oh, could that day return, love, whose few short,

glimpse of Paradise, dear one, to thee
Though vanished is its

“Oh, is that your idea i” he said
did not think you were a coward.’
And he went to the window and s
no more attention to Percy t
been in the room; till they Were inter—
rupted by the entrance of
hustled in, with his dau
mestic” fianner,

splendor, and withered all

Their perfumed memory lingers and bids me think

Through all the coming years, love, as o’er life’s sea
n

Thou and I can never meet

asin the olden time,
Yet ’twill give me pride to th

ink of thee as if thou

“Come, Percy, here we are.

Mr. Bay! All ready for the mom
g. Sleigh’s waiting.
quarrel with Steve thi
plenty of time after

pired love so pure and

 

 

yed him from head to foot with a

I felt that it was a mistake yes-
ay has satisfied me I was
thing I do is liable to mis-
don’t mind that so much—”
5 it you do mind?” asked the

e matter with him, as he listened to
the words of the poor jealousy-frenzied Moor.
He went home gloomier than ev
dreamed of all sorts of horrors that ni
but little breakfast in th
down to the office, whet
door, just as the day be
lis sleigh, and the blue
respectfully to him and hand
He trembled all ove
thought it was from he
was from the senator,
up at: once and look 0
to break ground next day

 

single drawing,
have done five i
True, he had had a
do; for Miss Wallis
in her likes and di
had been in her
that day. She ha
ferent experimen
bottom of the sta

though at the factory he could
u the same time.
good deal of erasing to
seemed to be as capricious
slikes in matters of art as she
moods toward Jasper,
d made him trya doze
ts on a single newel for the
ircase, without bein
ty one, and finally said to im with

ll which I like best. You will
a drawing, in full, of each of
so that I can judge how it’

terday. To-d

construction; but
“And what i
ss, averting her face.

“ What has just happened, misconstruction of
Your housekeeper
you will have trouble about
he first I ewr held alone with

She tossed her h
“I take the ris
You saw me the night

6 morning; and hurried
i there, in front of the
fore, stood the big Wal-
ver tipped his hat
ed him a note.
r as he took it, for he
r, but instead of that it
who wrote to him to come
the plans, as they were

was right, an
this ,interview, t

.quietly. “I

l

at down,

Besides, it is not
ban if he have to make

those patterns,

the old senator, who

ghter, crying in his “ do-
so different from his “ busi-

and no one said a word against it.”
Jasper had risen now,
words seemed to be forced f

Jasper Ray felt asif he were going to a funeral

n he got into that sleigh to go to the million-
3 mansion, and he felt tempted to throw u
ace at once rather than go on with what
g work; but there was no
go on, so he entered the
is head up, determined to

ing to look. I’
derstand what you call a wor
Jasper smiled rather dubious]
“ I suppose you know it will
make what vou wis
drawings of all thos
“ Well, suppose it 0e

[11 not mechanic enough to un-

very pale, and the
rom him as he an-
take a week to
rspe’ ctive, shaded

8?” she asked in a.

Good-morning,
entous decision
Now, Edith,

It to be torturin
help for it now but to
Wallis domicile with h

“ That is true, but I was very near to making

9 greatest mistake of my life when your father

“ The greatest mista

5 morning. Have

you’re married to do all

we’ve no time to lose.

a board meeting at
late now. You’re expected to
benefit of your taste in every
young people will give you their
soon as the site’s fairl
And he hustled the
of nervous anxi
Percy from furt

Jasper Ra],

The Journeyman Carpenter;

 
   
  
   
   
 
 

One Man as Good as Another
in America.
_ . themselves glid
A Story of How a. Carpenter Made His Way in and his daught
and his rival we

noon, and we’re half an hour
give us all the
thing, and the
instructions as
y selected. Come along.”
in off to the sleigh in a state
ety to keep his daughter and
her exhibitions of spleen before
few moments more they found
ing down the road, the senator
e back seat, while Jasper

re seated side by side:

   
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
     
  
 
    
   
   
  
   
    
  
   
 
    
 
  
  
  
 
    
  

*- This state of thin
BY CAPTAIN FRED. W'HIT

AUTHOR OF “JOHN ARMSTRONG,

CHAPTER XlII.
BETWEEN TWO FIRES.
JASPER‘S heart beat violently as he read the
gan to put together the facts
found out within the last few

That the match he
distasteful to the 1
yet she had consente

per would have been e

words and be
which he had

tween Edith and Percy was
y any one could see, and
d to it on certain condi-

best of terms, when the scout
rupted them in a nervous ma

“ Mr. Ray, excuse me, but
, how do you like it?”
p opposite a large, vacant
g in Chicago-
street level, and
ubly about it to
age them

atch-

‘Jasper began to see what those conditions
The girl was resistin
as she could, and trying to we
delays, while the father was
a double game, trvin
the two parties, afraid of eac
For it was certain to Jasper’s mind that the
d man must have some cause to fear Step

or he would not have submitted to the
young man’s masterful tone in his own house.
Pondering over these thin
way to his friend O‘Rourke,
tleman alone in his office, f
and ready to listen.
He showed O’Rourke
the lawyer glanced kc
or the. best of
would, me boy.”

g her fate as long
ary out Percy with
evidently playing
the peace between

unusual thin
was slightly elevated above the
the senator began to talk vol
Percy and his daughter, t
both in conversation, an
while the latter youu
ed Percy’s face, whic
he replied in sullen monosyl
while Edith seemed to have
merit to a statue of frozen rese
Percy seemedto be iiearl
ousy, Jasper was quietly a
business, and in the midst
Edith suddenly said:

“I don’t care wh
I’ll leavo it to Mr R

(ying to eng
to k
man lay back and w

ch
gs, Jasper took his

and found that gen-
or once in his life,

his contract, over which
enly, and then remarked:
ye, as I thought he

gs naturally did not tend to
’s conversation

ke of your life.
keep strictly to the li

ushered once more int
found strewn with pla
midst of which sat the senator,

and genial to a degree that surpr
man, while beside him sat his d
most charming mornin
ing over the drawings 11
Jasper felt his heart jum
and when she raised h
the sweetest of smiles he could
his knees then and there,
have done so, but for the pr
lionaire, who, with all his
tain coldness in his demea
young man to a sense Of th

uties, and was
0 the library, which he
ns and drawin

ppose I’m competent to order was that, sir?”

here was a certain mocking echo in her

, ed Jasper, inalower tone; as she spoke, and he could not understand

looking happy
ised the young
aughter, in the
g-dress imaginable, por-

“ but in that case—’
“ Well, what?” she asked.

“ I was near forg
“That house will

us,” he answered.
Miss Wallis. Be merci
I am weak when I am

etting the distance between
You know what I mean,
ful to me, for I feel that

take ten years before it’s
,everytbing is to be gone over in the
p as he looked at her, She tOSsed her little head and retorted:
“ That’s my affair.
I’m responsible, not you.

“ then I’d better
you back the drawing

He had noticed

give you the order, and said a sarcastic voice behind

stood Percy, by the private
ad entered unseen.
(T o be continued—commenced in No. 19.)

him, and there

and possibly would door, which be h

esence of the old mil-
affability, had a cer-
nor that brought the
e great distance be-

madam,” he re
take the sketches
s as soon as they’re fin-

 

 

Mrs. Van Cott watching him

111 powers, and Jas-

qually dumb but for the
, in the packing into the big
allis had been set opposite to hi
at once began to talk to him, with at
and gayety so infectious that he could
sist it, and talked to th
which was by no means
5 it happened that they

contemptible.

tween them, as he said:
, good~morning. How’s the work.
y? Well ahead, or you Would not

like a lynx, and fa
he might commit
rewarded for his sug
lady smile complacen

WHAT IS THE WORLD?

BY ROGER. BURKE, «II.

What is the world? A b
A vision of beauty and p

lt that he must get away or
some imprudence.
ion by seeing the old
and nod, as much as

sleigh,
m, and
reedom
not re-
s best extent ofhi's know~

 

 

ht land of enchantment,

ose chains are ensilvered and wreathed with flow-
ers:

Where guilt is concealed 'neath a mantle of gold.

returned Ray, in
“I shall be ready to
the middle of Febru-

his coldest business tone.

“The best thing you can
go out buying lumber by

don’t hurry to come back.
But Miss Wallis,

do, young man, and
the patted heiress, took a dif-

were both on the
or suddenly inter-
nner by saying:
this is the first site.

eep Ray

“ Ah, exactly.
“ I‘ve done it, sir.’
“ Fancy woods?”
“ Sometimes, sir, in
“Ah, yes. Small w
large way. Perhaps

ised to buying?” ferent view of the

What is the world! A fair flatterin
“ I don’t see w

Who lures her poo

”
by you need 80’ hose pleasures decay hke the

m sure this is ever so much Gad eaves Of An-
place to work in tha

a small way.” Whose happiness and joy change to misery and
woe.

ay. Well, we get it in a
you might not do very
go out myself this year.
you here till this house is
going to put on all the force I
m set on having it upbefore next

n the bare attic in the fac-
before, and it’s the most
comfortless place I ever was in—n
bare floors and a table.”

“And solitude,” returned J
“To tell the honest truth,
me to do much work he
unless I’m alone.”

The young lady cast on him one of her ecu-

What is the world!

All appearance all litter,
Like apples of Sod 8

Besides, I shall want om deceitfully sir;

asper, gravely.
it is impossible for

can hire, for I’ re, or anywhere else,

bitterness nothing is there!

What is the world? A dark valle
p ensures fleet by as the

 

r bowed and said nothing. He felt as “8111119800! 68.

ale with spleen as

ables to the senator,
anged in a mo-

y frantic with jeal-
mnsed at the whole
of all the sullenness

other you build here or not.
ay. He has better taste

I’ll abide by his decision.”

   
   
    
   
   
   
   
    

“ How? Why? Isn’t it a good contract?”
ppose either of ye breaks it,
ges to come from? Ye’d have
’d have as much chance
a poor man usually has

young man had turned
gnawing [his lip, glarin
silence, so he said, wi

Where‘s the dams
to sue for them. and ye
of getting anything as
with a rich one.”

Jasper looked blank.
“ But there’s no reason wh

 

“ It is hardly my place to
opinion, Miss lVallis,
am not either architect or landsca
though I am not unfamiliar with t
The site seems to me to be the be
in the city, if properly treated.”

To his surprise, Perc
and shook his hand wa

when Mr. Po
y they should break

“ It‘s hard to sa
pany isn’t famous
this is princely. How (I
Jasper told him what had t

y. The Diamond Car Com-
paying high wages, and

ranspired, and es-

y and saw that the
deadly pale and was
g at the snow in savage
th a view to soothe mat-

presume to give an
rcy is here. I
pe gardener;
heir subjects.
st I have seen

y turned .round on him

rmly, saying:
You’re a. man

   
 
 
 
 
 
    
   

pecially about the mysteri

ous note from the
rival car company, and O

’Rourke listened at-

When he had finished the law
“ Have ye the note

“ Thank you, sir; th
There, Edith, you can
your word. The site is chosen.”
Edith IVallis cast a sin
and her lip curled with a

as she answered:
i'ke looked at it carefully, and finally

I thought I had to decide it.”

 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
    
 
  
  
 

“If ye’ll leave that with me, I’ll find out who

And so ye say there
to—day, about your not

pert, and you can
“I appeal to you,
“ Certainly, certainly,”
with equal eagerness.
We’ve fooled over this lon
Is it yes or no?”
Edith Wallis turn

was a row in the house

y about that, but about some-

g enough.
1;; for all three looked ill-tempered

ve it to Ray as an ex-
’t go back on it,” cried Pe
senator, isn’t that fair?”

answered old
“ Come.

ed to Jasper Bay.
for a site of a house?”

   
  
    

“Even the angel in petticoats? Hum! and

“Do you like this
ye two notes, did she? Can I see

” he answered,
and wondering what h

looking in her dark eyes

6 saw there.
“let it be so.
r. Bay, to please
trusttoit. Don’t

    
   
 
 
    
   
 
 
  
   
  

well, then,” she said,
You shall build the house, M
your own taste, for [find I can
you think so, Percy?”
And she turned to he
with an arch smile

I’d rather not.

notes are different from bu
He did not like to own that he had them both
, together with the mem-
ad sent him long before,
a. discharged workman,

You know a lady’s

pressed over his heart
orable one which she
when he had only been
without friends.

“Oh, very well,” returned O’Rourke, dryly.

r now placated betrothed
that captivated him in-

CHAPTER XIV.
AN EXPLOSION AT LAST.

   
  
  
   
  
 
   
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  

“ I’m not curious, only I’ve an idea in me head;

6 ye going to do, Jas-
“ Attend to my business an

d earn my money, promised nothi

Jasper found himself let

your money? Ye can the sleigh, with no one

t your work, me boy.
nd all this, or ye coul
f old lVallis like ye s
y like an orange, mark me
erself out of work
Are ye going out

Stephen, Percy,
an extent that he wh
mortals an 1101
person the sa
plainly in Percy

Ye’ll be sucked dr
words, and find y
laste expect it.

 

 

 
  
 

y went peacefully home from a drive
ng but ill-temper, and
t alone in the corner of
to talk to; while Miss
to exert herself to entertain
y ignoring Ray, to such
0 had been the happie-t of
ir before, now felt in his own
9 feelings that had shown so

’s face while Edith Wallis had

ct a site for the house?”

 
   

with them to sele been talking to R
am

But Jasper, besides bein
Percy, and gifted, from c
self~control, had the adde
he knew he was a
while Percy was a.

 
  
  

ppose ye’ll be hard to please?”
“ lVell. what?”

  
 
  
  
  
 
 

g more sensible than
xperience, with more
d reason to conceal his
poor man,

gilded young millionaire.

 

a note received after I left. the
“ Aha! a note?
“'ith some reluctanc
last note, and O'Rourk
till he turned to the

 

“At least I ought to, if I obe instr
se.

  

His face betra.
respectful reserve
of the sleigh, till they got bac
mansion, when the senator

 
  
 
  

e Jasper brought out his
e looked it over hungrily,
young man with a smile,

  
  
 
  

“I’Ve shall not want vou

 

“ Ye’d better do rs the la

 

yed nothing but quiet and

ndship and love are as f
In the desert, that leads the worn

What is the world? The
on on nation is hurryin
all ranks, and all age
ng and the beggar are equals at last.
What is the world? The strai ht
A road full of briers, of
But one light is still left—
In safety, through all, to

ould rather haVe the job hang on for ten 15% 88 the minute

ysterious glances,
she had looked at her we.
“Mrs. Van Cott. i

it about time for lun

and made no rep y till
tch. Then she said:
t’s half—past twelve.

, I’ll ring the bell,”
r returned, rising.
“ By no means. What I me
Ray will take lunch with us.’

are.

“ Yes,” pursued the senator
y things are going
y daughter is dispo
Will you look over th
y suggestions you think good? I want to
use in America, and my
co in your taste and judg-

, placidly, “ I am
well with us all,
sed to hurry the

6 plans and make the housekeepe

ant was this. Mr.
ave this the best he

daughter has confiden t ‘8 Virtue—t0 guide “I

the Home of our prayers.

The Bat oiothe Battery;

.101: PHBNIX,
KING OF DETECTIVES.

A Thrilling Story of New York Life by
Day and Night.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,

AUTHOR or “JOE rnnmx, ms:

“wrrcmzs or NEW YORK,”

nrrnc'rrvn,” “ LA unno—
srr,” mm, ETC.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE Incoumn.

WHEN Phenix had first noticed the face of the
pression had come to him
, but he could not re-
re he had seen it, but now,
cry was revealed.

a decided resemblance to
an who had so neatly en-
otel. and who had declared
sterious murderer, a state-
did not believe, despite the
r which it was In
of his supposed h
t occasion have

“I fear I can hardly claim to be an
such matters,” returned the
“ I was not bred an archi

you be good enou
orders then ?” pursued Edi
voice. “They don’t under

 

gh to give the proper
th, in a. cold, distinct
stand anything down-

bell and had her
y asked sharply:

 

young man, coldly.
tect, and have not
xuries of house arrangement.”
can tell us if our ornaments are in
posed Edith Wallis, with her
“Come here and sit down.
ould be nice for the
chitecf’s design, and I

Mrs. Van Cott went to the
hand on it when the
“ What are you g
for the cook, Miss “’allis, that I
r the order,” replied the widow,

charming smile.
want to ask you What w
staircase. Here's the ar
don’t like it at all.

Jasper, thus invited, had no resource but to
0 he went and sat down
lady, who insisted on etting him
an o inion, and at
t would be an im
she at once assented, say
“It shall be done.
necessary to alter the whole de
Papa, what do y
“ I’ve left it all to you,
replied. rubbing his ha
money you want, as long
How long will it ta
those drawings, Ray?
wood carving all over th
have to superintend it all

’t care to have the servants called in
, compressing h(r lips.
wat taking a. hint, Mrs.
to go yourself, and order

returned Edith

‘You seem to be 510
ast to sketch what he

provement, to which

 

’t go back on

gular glance at him,
derisive sort of smile

The widow, in
lips, as she answ
lease excuse me, Miss TVallis; but

in your father not to leave this
young man was
Jasper Ray started fro
plain words were s

. her turn, compressed her thin
that will make it

sign of the hall
on say to that?”
my dear,” the old man
“Spend all the
as you don’t waste
k0 you to go over
Tiers is more or less

roman m,”

In his seat, as there
poken, saying hurriedly:
11, I’m sure I’ll take the

g,” retorted Edith,
esince he had seen
“You’ll do no such
it down t ere at once.”
ughty and imperious as if
cess, and then she turned on
(1 went on in the s
0 leave this room i”
6 orders that I sh
t, looking a. little fright-

ou refuse to obey my order?”
asked Edith, sharp y

“ No—not if you
but I entreat you—
“ Do as I order you then.
sponsibility,” cried the heir

rcy.

drawings away—” .
“ You’ll do no such thin
who looked, for the first tim
her, thorou h

Wallis,
Edith, come.

young man the im
Give your

that it was not unfa
member when or who
like a flash, the myst
The features bore
the face of the “om
trapped him in the b
that she was the my
ment that Phenix
circumstances unde
tempted by the fact
she would on tha
nothing doubted, but that she had
d planned the horrid deeds and
e the keen-eyed bloodhounds of
is mind altogether incredible.
he had discovered who it was
tabled, he fancied he had a key

had entrapped him was a sis-
some young man, and now
why his antagonist had been
orce him into a personal on-

His device had succeeded: he had 11
he assumed his disgui
to attract the att
he was satisfied he had done so.
The stranger was the mysterious murderer—
pire~like assassin—who seemed to kill as
ie pleasure of shedding blood as for
plundering his victims.

ad apparently changed
e had come to the con-
pposed Southerner was not

, and do the fine bits

Jasper casta hasty glance over them ere re-

Her tone was as ha
she had been a prin
the housekeeper, an

“ Do you refuse t

“ Mr. IVallis gav
returned Mrs. Van Cot
ened but resolute.

“ I ask you, do y

“I can give them a look
but it will take a. week to
drawings for the hall alone,
ing and not machine work.”
y no machine work,”

“ I’ll have none of i .
ything, from stair rails

before sunset, sir,
make the working
if you want carv-

put your mind on ever

” In that case,”
be a. long task, a
before Christmas,
to do the rough work for m .

“You shall have an
the senator, eagerly.
men in the sh
This is the place for burr
but that- house

uietly, “ it will

e to be finished

ess I hav’e plenty of hands
e

put it that way, Miss Wallis,

I take all the re-
ess, in tones of some
to the lunch, as I bid
e to cri! icise my actions.”

fer-mind who ha
managed to bafli
the law was to h
But now that
the stranger rose
to the mystery.
The woman who
for to this quarrel
too he understood
so determined to f

nd not possib

thing you want,” said
‘ You can take half the

. you, and don’t pres‘un:
op. We are in no

The widow Van Cot
from the room, .while Ja
than he had eyer been
drawing with an en
shown, and Edith W
she would have liked
she dared to, for she sat dow
of the room, b

more confused
fore, went at his
ergy that he had not hitherto
allis began to look as if
e a good cry, had
11 at the other side
y the fire, her chest hea
atting her foot on the rug,
ng as if she was suffering

must be finished by no
ve set my heart on having the wedding

Jasper could not hel
young lady beside him
her face, while sh
at which he co
a spasm of the unreasona
lover feels on such occasion

orders shall be
Then the old sen
doubtful kind of way:
"“ I suppose, Edith
more convenient]

p :. furtive glance at the
. and saw a. faint flush on
9 hit her lips and looked a
uld not help feeling
his joy that only a

se that he won]
ention of the sec

 

 

ret slayer, and

, sir,:dh,e said, quietly. “ Your per realized that he was for the first

one with the woman he loved, but under

ator got up, and said, in a ircumstances that he dared not speak a

time though he h
his tactics. Possibly h

, Ray would be able to work clusion that the su

Presently she turned her head, just as he had
y at the factory than he could

withdrawn his eyes for a momen

k in the corner
k to the Wallis

observed

any more to day,
ory.”

dy tells ye. Ye’ve a
carry ye through.”

 

Ray. You can go to the fact
per went away,

one had poured cold water d
after the senator had spoken,
nodded to him, and even Edi
so kind and thm
g toffercy so In

 

friend at coort, will maybe
“ IViiat do you mean?”
“Never mind. Ye
don’t need legal adv
home and attend to yo

id ye’ll come out all right.

   
  

’ll find out some day. Ye
9. young man.

 
  
    
  
 
  
  
   

And‘he turned to his bo

 
 

oks, while the young
learly understanding
had not made up his
reported at Senator

He went off toward the
unamiable frame of mind
desperately in love with
earthly chance of winning,
spirit, to wish be
seen her; in whi
ept at it till dark
the gas, forgetting
ing the six o’clock

  

 

factory in a decid
, realizing that he was
a woman he had no
and ready, in his des-
had never
ork, and
to light
ot heed—

 
 
 

what was the matter, and
mind what to do when he
lVallis’s house next mornin
Once more he was sho
where he found Stephen Percy alone, in t
of humors', striding up and down the r
chewing the end of a half—smoked cig

  

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
  

 

 

ch mood he went to w
ness compelled him
all about his meals, n

   
 
  
  
  
  
  

 

feeling as if some
own his back, for,
no one so much as
th IVallis, usually
etended to be too
uch as to turn her

whistle, till he was roused by

 
  
 
 
  

 

 

 

 

 

1: from his work,

the kind of a man w
certain strange

and so had hit upon the device
make sure of his prey.
“He has the eyes of
mured, communing with
watched the face of the on
he is a far better swordsman than h
ll cook his goose f
ears since Phenix had him-
urn Hallo. he was not at all

ho could be easil
and he can work

and her glance met his, with a
them up and report every '

“ By no means,”
never can be sure
together. unless I
undersrands the
stay and work here, as far
concerned, so that I can ma

of a quarre to
indif- she retorted, pettishly. “I
of my ideas for five minutes
have so: 6 one to talk to who
I want Mr. Ray to
as the drawing is

ke my suggestions

“ Are you alway
day?” she asked hi
Jasper stared and

s as dull as you were yester- a fiend,” Phenix mur-

mself. as he narrowly
,dropped his pencil.
“ In consenting to that site.

Don’t you see, I
want you to hel

p me put off the evil day as long

rembled as he asked:

y, Miss Wallis?”

ill never come; when I am
’t you see I hate him,
rest, leagued against

ytiigi’?” echoed the young

turn out to be, 1’

Although it w
dled the foils in the T
rusty, for as fencing
during his trip to forei
din friendly bouts with
both Europe and Brazil, and
’-ends the latest and most
he masters of “carte and

When they arrived
dred yards of the Wee
rested on his oars for a

The old millionair

e took a turn up and down
the room with a fro
'd

I J asper’s voice 1:
wn on his brow, and at last

“ What evil da

“ The day that w
to marry that man.

re you, like all the
e?

“ Very well. if you
send for Mrs. Van Co t.
She tossed her little head.
y, if you wish it, sir.”
sh it decidedly,
“ You ought to h
f anything else.” '
g the bell and told the waiter

“ Tell Mrs. Van Cott to come here."

insist on it; but you must t swordsmen of
edly t ”

so had at his finge

 

 

“.Leagued against
” he retorted, rather man. incredulously.

ave more sense than

 

within a couple of. bun-
hawken shore, the rower
moment and allowed the
h the tide, while be cast

Aha l” he ejaculated, in a satisfied tone, “ I

’t you help me? Thry
me marry that wretch,
consent on conditions.
y father. I don’t know
help me I can find out,

,
are determined to make
and I’ve been forced to
He has some hold on In
what it is: but if you

So saying he run
ed

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

thought I could hit the spot without any trouble.
It is famous ground that I seek, a s i: just
suited for such an affair as the one in w ich we
are engaged. We will settle our quarrel in the
exact place where Alexander Hamilton fell by
the hand Of Aaron Burr.”

And Phenix, glancing at the shore, saw that
his companion had conducted him to the locality
where it was commonly believed the fatal duel
between the rival statesmen had taken place.

“It doesn’t make a picayune’s diflerence to
me, sah,” the disguised detective re lied. “I
don’t care a button who fought and w o fell; all
I want is about six squar’ feet of level ground,
and if I don’t give you a dose that will last one
while, then you are welcome to take my head
for a football.”

“ If you have prayers to say, speak them be-
fore we cross swords, for you will not have a
chance afterward,” the other rejoined.

Then, with a few oar-strokes, he drove the
boat to the shore.

Leaping out, he drew the bow up on the little
stretch of beach, tucked the swords under his
arm. and, clambering over the rocks, proceeded
to where a narrow shelf of level land jutted out
from the steep side of the Palisades, as the rocky
formation that frowns upon the western bank of
the placid Hudson is called.

Phenix fOIIOWed, and as be cast his eyes
around the thought came to him that never had
he stood in a. more lonesome place.

There were no signs of human habitation:

nothing but the beetling rocks, the stunted veg-
etation and the restless current of the ever-mov-
ing river.
“ It’s a fair field,no favor,and may the best man
win,” Phenix muttered, as be clambered over
the rocks. “ He’s a plucky imp of Satan to try
this ame, single-handed, but then he reckons
that am Old, and as men in America. go, it’s
about a thousand to one that I am not an ex-
pert with the sword. When I et the article in
my fist, though, I’ll bet a tri e he’ll open his
e es.”

When the level space was reached the young
man faced about, drew the swords from their
covering, and in the ceremonious manner of the
fencing-room tendered them to Phenix.

A single glance reVealed to the experienced
eyes Of the detective that there wasn’t the least
difference betWeen the two weapons; a better
pair of “ slogger ” blades, as the cut and thrust,
edge and point dueling tools of the German stu-
dents are termed, Phenix had never seen.

Selecting one, the detective stepped back a
couple of paces, and whirled the keen blade
through the air, cutting a figure eight with as
much ease as though it were but a toy.

His antagonist looked on with a scowl; being
an expert swordsman himself, he detected from
the manner in which Phenix handled the wea-
pon that he had no mean antagonist to encoun—

r.

“ It was not a boast then; you do know some-
thin of the weapon,” he observed.

“ you sup so I would have been fool
enough to have a lowed myself tobe bullied into
coming with you if I didn’t?” the detective re-
torted.

“ ut I will kill you for all that!” the other
cried, fiercely, advancing as he spoke, and lung-
ing straight at Phenix’s breast, but the detective
was on his guard, for like a wary swordsman
he had kept watch of his opponent’s e es, and
from them received ample warning 0 the at-

ck.

With the firmness of a rock Phenix received
the onset; there was a flash of steel in the air as
he parried the thrust, and then, as the rashness
of the attack had thrown his antagonist out of
“ distance,” there was a quick straightening of
the detective’s supple arm, followed by a cry of
re 6 from the stranger.

he point of the detective’s steel had pierced
his antagonist’s shoulder. .

“Not so' very rusty, after all, you perceive,
my friend,” Phenix remarked, as the other re—
coiled, asping with rage. “ Bah! you are
nothing ut a bungler—you uncovered yourself
at the first thrust! I might just as easily have
sent my blade through your lungs and finished
the affair at a single stroke as to prick you in
the shoulder. You know enough of the sword
to understand that, I presume?”

“ Well, wh did you not do so?"

“ Because don’t want to kill you; that isn’t

my ame.”
“ filo? What is it then?”

“ To make you a prisoner; carry you back to
the city and introduce you to some gentlemen
who are extremely anxious to make your ac-
quaintance." .

“ Anxious to make my acquaintance!
at aloss to comprehend your meaning.”

“Why, it is as lain as the moon shining in
the sky yonder. on laid a trap, and, as Often
happens in this uncertain life, was the first to
get caught. It is the old story Of the engineer
hoist by his own petard.” .

Then with a quick movementPhenix removed
his wig and beard and stood revealed in his own
proper person. .

An ex ression of the most intense amazement
appeare upon the face of the stranger. Drop
ping the point of his sword to the ground, he
stared like one transfixed with wonder.

Phenix was disappointed. This was not the
expression that-he had expected to produce.

“ You are not an old man, then!” his antago-
nist remarked, wonderingly.

“ Not much, and there is where your calcula-
tion was out of joint. You picked me up for a
Victim, but the supported pigeon has turned into
a hawk.”

“ I do not understand your meaning. Why
should I select you for a Victim—who are you
and what is the meaning of this singular dis-

ise!”

The detective took a good look at his ques-
tioner before he made reply, and the thought
came to him that if the other was the man he
took him to be, then most certainly he was a.
com lete master of the art of dissimulation.

“My name is Phenix—Joe Phenix, the de-
tectiVe.”

“ Ah, I can understand your being disguised,
and I regret that I interfered with you; poseibly
I have disarranged your plans.”

“Not at all; you are the man for whose ex-
press benefit I assumed my disguise.” _

“You are clearly laboring under some mis-
take,” replied the other, incredulously.

“Oh, no. you arem mutton! so throw down
your toastin ~fork an I will snap the bracelets
on you ” an Phenix drew from his pocket a
pair of handcuffs which he dangled in the air.

“You are crazy! what charge do you bring

ainst me?”

“ Murder!” replied Phenix, sternly.

Iain

 

CHAPTER XXXIIL
A DESPERATE STRUGGLE.

“HA, ha, ha!” laughed the oung man, and
the rocks gave back the shril and rather dis-
cordant sound. “ Murder! how absurd and how
extremely like this situation to the climax of a
soul harrowing romance. I am the criminal
hunted down and you the expert detective—the
bloodhound who has shadowed me to my doom,
ha. ha, ha!” and again he laughed.

Now Phenix felt sure that he was on the right
track. for his quick ears detected that there was
something false and unnatural about the merri-
ment of the other. .

“ And you are going to put those pretty little
ornaments u n my wrists, eh?” the unknown
continued, this time in a bantering tone. “ Go-
ing to carry me back in triumph to New York
and exhibit me as a specimen of your skill in
the detective line. But come, enough of this
nonsense! Do you suppose that I will tamely
submit to such an outrage?”

“ You will be obliged to submit for you can’t
help yourself,” retorted the detectIVe.

“ Can‘t I?" cried the other, scornfull y. “ Have
you a warrant for my arrest?”

“ No, it isn’t necessary.”

“ Isn’t it? Well, I can tell you that I will not
yield myself a prisoner without you produce
that little legal document!”

"I can tell you that I am going to take you
alive or dead, and I sha’n’t trouble myself about
any warrant either.”

 

“ You will not dare!”

f‘ Oh, yes, I will! You’re my ame! I have
fairly run you to earth and now ’m not going
to stand upon any ceremony.”

“ You are a better swordsman than I and so
I suppose you think there isn’t any escape for
me

“ None; alive or dead I’ll hold you!”

“ Bah!” and with the utterance of the con-
temptuous exclamation he flung his award
straight at Phenix‘s head and then plucked
from a secret pocket in the breast of his coat a
revolver, evidently a self cooker, for be dis-
charged it immediately.

“ Crack, crack, crack,” rung out the sha re-
ports on the still night air: three shots, red,
point-blank, at Phenix’s breast as first as the
cylinder could revolve.

The detective was in a measure taken by sur-
prise, for, although, from the expression in the
eyes of the other, he had anticipated an attack,
yet he had counted upon its being made with
the sword, and the sudden production of the re-
volver was unexpected.

He was quick to follow the example of his an-
tagonist, but before he could get his pistol out
the bullets of his foe took effect.

Each one of the three shots struck him—he
staggered back and then fell upon his knees.

A yell of triumph came from the unknown.
Taking deliberate aim at Phenix’s head he fired
a. fourth shot.

The detective fell over sideways.

Then satisfied that he had disabled his wer-
ful antagonist, he approached with the idea of
administering the final stroke.

But Phenix half rose, evidently badly hurt
and partially stunned, yet sensible of what was
going on, leveled his revolver and fired.

A cry of rage came from the other as the bul—
let tore through his flesh, and he recoiled before
his determined foe.

Phenix staggered to his feet, the blood stream-
ing from the wounds in his head, presenting a
frightful sight.

“Dead or alive I’ll hold you!” he gasped.

The young man answered with another shot
which cut away a lock of hair from the detect-
ive’s temple.

And then again the flash of flame came from
the revolver of the man-hunter as he advanced
with dogged resolution upon his prey.

Again the bullet had hit its mark.

The unknown had emptied his revolver, and
so was weaponless.

With a yell of anger he threw the now useless
weapon at the head of the detective.

The aim was good, and the missile tumbled
Phenix over upon his back.

The young man sprung forward to improve
the advantage, but as he came up to Phenix, the
detective quickly raised his arm and sent an-
other bullet into the rson of his foe.

Again a yell of mingled rage and pain and
then, apparently panic-stricken, the unknown
turned and fled toward the boat.

He was bleeding from the wounds that he had
received, but evidently no one of them was se-
vere enough to disable him.

By the time he was half-way to the boat the
detective had managed to regain his feet, and
opened fire on the retreating man, but his
wounds had rendered his aim uncertain, and al-
though the bullets whistled closer to the person
of the fugitive than was agreeable to that gen-
tleman, yet he managed to get into the boat and
push off into the stream.

Phenix pursued him with grim determination.

One revolver being emptied of its cha he
drew another and kept up the fire, a1 ou‘fih
growing so weak from his wounds that he co d

ardly stand.

The fugitive bent to his oars with all his
strength.

“ This man is a demon,” he muttered between
his firm-set teeth.

Shot after shot the desperate detective sent
after the retreating boat. He had clambered
to the top of a huge rock that jetted out into
the water so as to secure a better aim, but ven-
turing too far out slipped upon the slimy sur-
face, lost his balance and went headlong into the
water.

The hunted man uttered a cry of oy u n
perceiving this unexpected stroke 0 min or-
time.

“ Ab, you bloodthirsty sleuth-houn that
uts a, stop to your target-practice for a t e at
east!

And now the fu 'tive relaxed a. little in his
efforts, yet watch ng anxiously for the detec-
tive to reappear.

By his superhuman exertions he had man
to get well away from the shore, at not too at
to command a good view, althou a great mass
of fleecy clouds driving across t e sky at times
partially obscured the ight of the moon.

Eagerly he watched—moments melted into
minutes, yet he was not gratified by a sight of
his foe.

“ What does it mean?” he questioned. “ Has
the plunge into the river proved fatal to himll
Ah! what a bit of good luck that would be for
me! But I can hardly believe that such a thing
can be possible. lNouldn’t it be deuced odd if
accident should accomplish the difficult task af-
ter all my well-laid plans failed?”

And then a fiendish idea came into his head,
and he rested upon his ears while he mused upon

it.

“ It is barely pomible that death can have en-
sued, for he did not seem to be badly hurt,” he
soliloquized. “He is as strong as a bull, and

sses the determination of a panther, and,
like all members of the cat-tribe, he has nine
lives. He is not dead but robably stunned for
the moment by the fall. be water will revive
him, he will gain the land, and to-morrow fol-
low again on my trail with more vigor than
ever. ’ .

He set his teeth firml y together for a moment,
and his hard-drawn breath came from between
them like the pantin s of a wild animal ex-
hausted by a prolong chase.

“It is time to make an end of it now for good
and all!” he exclaimed. “If he lives and con-
tinues the hunt, I am satisfied that my capture
is only a question of time; in the end he is sure
to run me down. Why then not make an end
of it now? He is comparatively be! less. If
there are any more charges in his revo vers, the
chances are a hundred to one that the water has
rendered them useless. I can return and put an
end to him with as little ceremony as though he
were but a calf in readiness for the butcher.”

And having come to this conclusion, the un-
known was prompt to act upon it.

He brought his boat around and r0wed back
to the point from whence he had started, by so
doing Of course bringing his back to the shore,
but he was careful to glance over his shoulder
every now and then for the purpose of noting
if Phenix had arisen from the water.

But he was not gratified by a sight of the
man-hunter.

He brought his boat alon ide of the rock
from which the detective ha slipped into the
water.

It was quite deep at that point and the cur-
rent was strong.

“He would have been swept upstream for
some distance in such a strong flood tide as
this,” the searcher murmured. “I must look
for him up the stream. By this time, unless he
has received a mortal hurt, he must have risen
to the surface, and if I do not succeed in finding
him, then I ought to be easy in my mind about
the matter, for it will be pretty conclusive evi-
dence that he has found a grave in the restless
waters.” .

Keeping the boat a short distance from the
shore, he rowed slowly along up the river.

His quest was in vain; not a vestigc of the
detective could he discover.

Fully an hour he spent in the search, and
then, satisfied that nothing could be gained by
devoting more time to it, he headed his boat
across t 6 river to the New York shore.

‘-’ Phenix is dead, beyond a doubt.” he mused,
“but, oh! what wouldn’tfigive if I could only
be sure of it! One look at his lifeless body
would be worth a fortune!”

He feared the detective more than all the
world besides.

(To be continued—commenced in No. 13.)

 

NELLIE OF THE VALLEY.

BY ARTHUR GLENN.

 

When the swallows, fast departing, bade farewell to
Summer scene,

And the ellow tint of Autumn mingled with the red
an green-

Then I strayed, in meditation, by the brook, one
Sabbath day,

And the faded leaves of Summer strewed the path
along the way.

As I wondered why the monarchs of the forest. great
and brown,

At the first approach of Winter cast their coats upon
the ground,

Lo, I heard a gentle rustle, and I raised my eyes to

see,
On a path that, fast converging, joined the one now
trod y me,

Little Nellie of the Valley! What a Winsome lass
.and fair!

Was it idle, aimless wandering guided Nellie’s foot-
steps there?

Yea, it seemed so, for like golden, glittering lights in
Summer skies,

Gleamed within those depths of azure, glances bright
of pleased surprise.

Ne’er before had maiden‘s presence bound me as
With magic charm;

Ne’er before had glance of beauty made my heart to
glow so warm.

Ne’er a princess’ love for diamonds; ne’er a miser’s
greed for gold;

Ne‘ertalplqet‘s inspiration, half the tale of love has

0

E'en the cool night‘s gathering shadows seemed to
melt before her gaze.

(Love’s light oft dis erses darkness when our hearts
omit the rays.

Yea, that glance, as Morn’s sun rising chases far the
shades of night,

Flooded o’er mgr heart with Cupid’s clouds of living,
lOVIng lig t.

Came a vail of crimson beauty o’er that face in
golden frame,

And life’s cares forever vanished when our paths to-
gether came.

We have IIcai‘ly reached the river, and our hearts
are just as fond;—

Dark though seem its eager waters, we can see the
light beyond!

 

A Telegroohgr’s Story.

BY J. C. COWDBICK.

 

THERE we were! The train was reported
three hours late, the snow still continued to
come thicklfI down, the drifts grew rapidly
larger and arger, and there appeared to be
every prospect of our having to remain in the
little station all night. There were a dozen or
fifteen of us, most of whom were railroad men,
but four or five were passengers who, like my-
self, were anxious to get through to Chicago.

“ Come, friends,” said the telegraph operator,
as we all sat silently around the glowing fire,
“this seems unsociable, so suppose we tell a
story all around to pass away t e time! What
say you—all agreeable?”

“ What suits the majority suits me,” answered
an old engineer, “but as you’ve made the mo-
tion, Frank, my boy, of course you’ll have to
lead 01!!”

“Well,” replied the operator, “if you will
follow next I’ll do it, provided the others pres-
ent are willing.”

The others present were willing. In fact it
was just what we wanted. I might mention
right here that I am a stenographer by profes-
sion, and was at that time employed on the staff
of the Chicago Herald; and bein alittle rusty
for want of reportin ractice whipped out
any note-hook and too t operator’s story oer-

tom.

“In the winter of 1871,” he began, “I was
employed as station agent and telegraph opera-
tor atO densburg, a nascent town on the line
of the and 0. Railroad. My duties were
anything but light, but with the exception of
the second and fourth Tuesday nights in every
month, when I had to remain at my office un-
til han-past eleven o’clock to receive money
from the express memenger on the ‘Night Ex-
press’ for the Ogdensburg Bank, I saw pretty
good times.

“ It was on a Tuesday night. The snow
whirled past my window and around the cor-
ner of the station in blinding clouds, something
like it does here to—ni ht, and the wind caused
the wires to moan an sigh like the tones of a
solemn funeral dirge, as under its influence
their vibrations resounded through the build-
ing. I was sitting with my heels upon the table
and my back toward the glowing stove, draw—
ing solitary consolation from an old brierwood
pipe and sending clouds of smoke floating up-
ward to the ceiling, as I watched the hands of
the tardy clock in their slow and steady round
and ictured out bright scenes of the future.

“ bout a mile from the station lived old Dr.
Powellson, at whose house I spent many a
pleasant evening that winter, and whose only
daughter, Kate, and myself were the very
best of friends. John Powellson, Kate’s brother,
was an engineer on the B. and 0., and it was
through him that I first made her acquaintance,
from the beginning of which she expressed a
great desire to learn the art of telegraphing:
and so, accompanied by a younger brother, she
spent many an hour in my :fice for that pur—
pose. When she became qmte proficient in the
art I presented her with a set of new instru-
ments, and erected a. wire between the station
and her home, for the ostensible pur of en-
abling her to continue her practice; ut I must
now confess that I was actuated by a selfish mo-
tive of my own as well. It is perhaps needless
for me to say I had learned to love the bright,
bonny little girl with all my heart, and conse-
quently the oftener I could speak to her in the
course of the day, the better, and the sweet and
simple ‘nothings’ that passed over that short
circuit of electrified wire would make a volume
as large as ‘ Webster’s Unabridged.’

“ According to the general order of things,how-
ever,the course of true love is said seldom to run
smoothly. and in my case there was no exception
to the established rule. I had a rival, and conse-

uently a hated enemy, in the person of James
Tomlison, the cashier of the Ogdensburg Bank.
For a long time he tried to gain favor in the
eyes of Kate, and endeavored in many ways
to poison her father’s ears against me—as it
were, but I am proud and happy to say he did
not succeed in either. In fact have often been
fondly assured since that he never stood a ghost
of a chance anyhow.

“As I said before, I was waiting for the
‘ Night Express.’ and as I waited I smoked and
drew all sorts of bright pictures of the future,
in which Kate occupied avery prominent place.
I had been talking with her during the early
part of the evening, but now the hour of eleven
was slowly rolling round and the wires were si-
lent. I had just refilled my pipe for another
smoke, and had just settled down to another
dream, when suddenly there came the sound Of
heavy footfalls upon the platform, followed by
a loud rep at the door.

“ ‘ Hallo!’ I exclaimed as I brought my feet
down from the table to their pro or level, some
passenger to take the “Night xpress,” I sup-
pose,’ and ste )ping out of my ofiice into the
waiting-room unlocked the outer door, think-
ing at the same time that it was rather an un-
usual occurrence to have passengers for that
train, and wondering who they could be—to
venture out on such a night. But the instant I
turned the key in the lock the door was thrown
suddenly and violently open, and three masked
men sprung in upon me and threw me to the
floor.

“ ‘ We don’t like to be rough with you, young
man,’ one of them said, as he forced a gag into
my mouth to prevent me from making an out-
cry, ‘,but business is business, you know, every
time!

“ When they had gagged me to their satisfac-
tion, and tied my hands securely together be—
hind my back, they dragged me into the office
and then, after binding me to a low stool so that
it was almost impossible for me to move, they
pushed me back into a corner out Of the way.

 

“ ‘S’pose a stray passenger or two should

       
  

 

    

.r “willilrrlwr «rim-rum“
ll ‘1Illrl. mmnir

Di 'iimiiuwn lil mu-
9
%

 

come along to take the train !’ one of them re~
marked.

“ ‘ Not much danger, I guess, such a night as
this,’ re lied another, who seemed to be the
leader, ‘ utI suppose it would be as well to lower
the lampa little,’ and as he spoke he turned
down the light until it was quite low, and then
removed my lantern from under the table to a
place behind the coal-box, where its light could

ardly be seen.

“ At first I naturally supposed they were going
to rob my ofiice, but soon found that such was
not their purpose. They all were masks and
slouch hats, and were so muffled up in bi over—
coats that it was impossible for me to te 1 who
they were, but I felt sure that I recognized the
voice of the leader as belonging to James Tomli-
son, the cashier of the bank. I had received a
tel-“gram that afternoon, addressed to the presi-
dent of the bank, saying that sixteen thousand
dollars would be sent by the ‘ Night Express,’
and in his absence the telegram had been de-
livered to Tomlison; and having always had a
very bad opinion of the man, I jumped all the
more readily to the conclusion that one of my
assailants was none other than he.

“The one that I surmised to be the bank of-
ficial took my hat and overcoat down from their
book behind the door, and ste ping out into the
waiting-room, where all was ark, he threw off
his own but and coat and put on mine, still
keeping the mask over his face; and when he
came back into the office, I was surprised at
the striking likeness of myself that be pre-
senterl.

“ ‘ Is the Express on time?’ he asked, as he
seated himself upon a corner of the table.

“ ‘ Yes,’ I nodded.

“ ‘ Have you got anfy money to go?’

“There was no nee to answer the question,
even had I been able to do so, for my receipt—
book lay upon the table with several money
packages in it, all ready to be signed for by the
messenger on the train. The man took it up,
turned the light up a little, and looked over its
contents, and although it contained quite a sum
Of money, he took care not to disturb the order
in which the packages were arranged. It was,
in fact, just what he wanted; for, dressed as he
was in my hat and coat, nothing in the world
would have been easier than for him to have ex-
changed receipts and moneys with the train-
messenger, and have received the sixteen thou-
sand dollars belonging to the Ogdensburg Bank,
together with any other sums the messenger
might have had for my station, which, upon
that particular night, swelled the amount to
more than twenty thousand dollars.

“ The more I saw Of this man the stronger be-
came my belief that he was the cashier of the
bank, and when I clearly saw what their plan
and intentions were I felt sure that I was not
mistaken. The cashier had no love for me, as I
have said, and What would be more likely than
for him to try to throw the suspicions of his
crime upon my shoulders? It stood like this :—
I would be found next morning gagged and
bound. Bank would send for the money, and the
money would be gone. Express company would
make an investigation. Messenger would swear
he had delivered the money to me. The books
would prove it. I would tell my story, which,
under the circumstances, would hard] he cred-
ited. They would say I had defraude the com—
pany, and had my accomplice tie and gag me to
give weight to my story. They might not have
been able to hold me upon such evidence as this,
but of course I would have lost my place, and
my bondsmen perhaps would have suffered. I
tell you, gentlemen, I was in a bad situation.
In thirty minutes the train was due to arrive!
What was to be done?

“ As I sat pondering over the dilemma my
fingers ha pened to come in contact with a wire
that ran a ong the wall behind me, and instantly
an idea flashed across my mind. The railroad
ran within a short distance of Dr Powellson’s
place, and the wire that I found within such
easy reach of my bands was the private line
from the station to his 'house. If I could only
get word to Kate to have some one stop the
train and warn the expressman of the danger,
all might yet be well. I began to twist the
slender, copper wire, and in a few moments had
the satisfaction of feeling it break. Then by
touching the ends of the wire carefully together
I commenced to signal, ‘ K—K—K—K—’ which
was Kate’s ‘ call.’

“ The moment the ‘ sounder’ began to rattle
the men looked quickly at me, but seeing me
still in the corner, at least a dozen feet away
from the instruments, they did not show much
concern.

“ ‘ S‘ ose your fingers itch to get at that ma-
chine. on’t they 2’ one of them remarked.

“ ‘ Yes,’ I nodded, at which they laughed
heartily. Little did they imagine that my fin-
gers were at the ‘ machine.’

“‘K—-K——K——K—,’ I continued to call, but
as no answer came back I began to despair.
Presently, however, the current was broken,
and back came the welcome signal, ‘ i—i—K.’

“‘Thank God you are there,’ were my first
words, and then I explained how I was situated
and told her what to do.

“ ‘There is no one here to send to sto the
train,’ she said, when I had finished, ‘but I will
go In self.’

“ After that the minutes seemed to be hours
in themseIVes, as the time dragged Slowly
along, and hardly a word was spoken. The
storm raged with unabated fury, the building
was filled with the wild, JEolian music of the
wires, the snow dashed against the window in
great, ghostly clouds that were gone in an in-
stant, leavin the darkness without deeper and
blacker than fore, while the station shook and
rattled to its very foundation beneath the un-
seen power of the storm king. But at last, and
above every other sound, I heard the whistle of
the ‘Night Express,’ as the ‘iron horse’came
dashing into the town.

“Then the man who had on my hat and over-
coat picked up the money-book and the lantern,
and went out, followed by the other two, and as
they reached the 1platform they tore ofl’ their
masks, and drew t eir hats as far down as pos-
sible over their eyes. This I could see through

the office window, by the light of the lantern ’

they carried, and I also saw that the man who
wore my hat and coat had cut his heard in ex-
act imitation of my own.

“ The train rolled up to the station, throwing
the snowdrifts right and left, and down sprung
the expressman. My heart sunk within me as
I heard him salute the robber with a hearty
shout, and saw them exchange books and ack-
ages. Had my effort failed—was this bol rob-
bery to be committed right under my very
nose? Where was Kate—was she rishing in
the storm? Ten thousand maddening thoughts
flashed through my brain as I struggled in vain
to free myself, but in a moment more the scene
was changed. The engineer and the fireman
appeared, each armed with a couplin -pin, and
by a few we'll-directed blows the rob ers were
laid low. Then the engineer—John Powellson
-—rushed into the office and released me.

“ Our first care was to bind the robbers hand
and foot, in which we had plenty of assistance
from the conductor and the brakemen, and then
onlooking up I beheld Kate standing near me.
Need I say I caught her in my arms and kissed
her there and then? I guess not, for that would
seem to follow naturally.

“ I exchanged moneys with the astonished
messenger. and in a few moments the train was
again speeding on its way. Then we turned
our attention to our prisoners. The sheriff’s re~
sidence was on] a short distance awav, and
calling up an o d negro who lived near the
station I sent him to bring that official with all
possible haste; and when he came he brought
several men with him and the robbers were soon
lodged in the county jail.

“ After locking the money in my safe and
making all secure around the station I set out
in the blinding storm with Kate to take her
home.

“ ‘ What a brave little girl you are, Kate,’ 1
said, as I hurried her along, while we talked
over the attempted robbery.

“ ‘ Do you think so 9’ she replied. ‘ Well, per-
haps I am. but I am sure I have only done what
any one else would have done. As soon as you

 

 

told me what to do I lighted a lantern, ran
d0wn to the track and stopped the train by
swinging the light across the track as hard as
ever 1 could, and then when I saw it was John
upon the engine I told him what had happened,
why I had stopped him and made him take me
up and bring me down here with him. John
was going to send his fireman back into the car
to warn the others, but then he thought he and
the fireman could attend to the robbers—as they
did. And when the train reached the station
they were all ready for the gentlemen.’

” When at last we arrived at our destination
after quite a struggle with the storm, the old
doctor would not hear of my returning to town
that night. and so I stayed there till mornin .

“The Western Express Company made ate
a present of one thousand dollars, and the Og-
densburg Bank gave her a handsome watch.
And—well, she is at home with the children,
waiting for me at this very moment, and a bet—
ter, truer little wife man never had. I have a
private wire from here to my house, and—
There! she is ‘calling’ me now.’

The operator jumped up and rushed into his
Ofifice, and for several minutes we heard the
“ click, click,” of the instruments, and when he
returned to his seat by the fire he said:

“Now, uncle John.” addressing the old one
gineer, “ we’re ready for your story.”

 

 

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a R, T. A. SLOCUM, 181 Pearl St. New Yorb

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    
 

 

 

 

 

 

' . , .‘u.
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“ They are preparing fora charge, and I think
they have just been reinforced,” was the reply,
as he shaded his brow with open palm and con-
tinued to inspect the enemy’s lines.

“ More on em, eh? Well, thar onny be the
more of ’em tor nib out an’ skulp, arter the
thing‘s over,” said the scout, lookng to his rifle
and six shooter. A

“ Look out, lad i” he suddenly exclaimed.
“ Thar’s a lot uv ’em over in the timmer, thar
on the right, an’ they’ve got yer range!”

As though to verify the assertion, a sharp vole
ley rattled from the line of Chaparral, and the
balls could be heard whistling thickly about the
daring inan upon the rock, but in n0wise has-
tening his movements. Suddenly erecting his
tall form. he threw ba k his right foot to steady
himself, jerked the heavy piece to his face, and
apparently without aim, fired in the direction
from whence the volley had come.

Instantly every eye was turned to mark the
shot.

A HUNDRED YEARS PROM NOW.

BY J0 KING.

To get to the saddle, gather up the reins, and
leap over the rocks, was but the work of a single
moment, and before the fleeing save es were
half-way across the open, the fiery stoe and his
fearless rider were among them, the latter
wielding, with deadly effect a tomahawk he
had snatched from the groun .

“Good Lordy! Look at the boyoel" yelled

ube, wild with excitement, and again spring-
ing upon the lOCkS to obtain a better view.

“ He ar’ a screamer, Rube, hain’t he!” asked
old Grizzly.

The scene upon the plain was indeed a strik—
ing one. Both horse and rider seemed actuated
by a mad desire to slay.

The roan bit fiercely and lashed out with her
heels whenever opportunity offered, and more
than one red-skin was hurled, crushed and
mangled to the earth.

It will be remembered that all this took but a
moment of time.

u 11 each of their countenances, and it was
p ainly apparent to tho bystanders that each
was determined to win the race if possible.

“Now then,” said the old man, ‘I want this
thing distinctly understood before the race com-
mences. You are to run to that stake yonder
and back again, and the first man back gets my
‘ Darter Mariar.’ Ready now, all, and when I
say three, away you go!”

The excitement was now at its highest. Ev-
erybody was elbowing everybody else, trying I
to obtain a better stand—point from whic
View the race. I

Slowly old Martin began to count: “ One!"— '
“two!"—-and then “three!” he almost yelled
in his excitement.

The young men made a motion tostart as one
man, and then—being fair-minded young men,
and undesirous of gaining any undue advantage
over their opponents, they each and every one
held back; each waiting for the other six to

kinder way, an’ likewise. when doin’business on
dat principple {rough life up successful, it am
nat’ral to take heaps ob credit for it.”

“I dare say you are right.” a

“I knows I is. An’ hit ain’t do way ob hu- l'
man natur’, in sich cases, tor i’n any credick
tor do folkses what we hes ho p ourselves—of-
fon. ’ 

"Certainly not, in the case of the chickens
and watermelons.”

“No mo’ hit ain’t in do case ob l’arnin’ an’
to a ’commordations in biz’ness. Doy doesn’t do it.
Yer mos’ly never er seldom hears ’bout hit.
Leastwise, yer never does from deso yere self-
made folksos, as dey calls dereselves; an’ dat’s
why I say dey isn’t self-made.”

“ Then you don’t believe there are any such
in reality?”

“ I doesn’t go dat fur. What I does say, am
dat when dey is sich, dey isn’t much ’count.
’Tain’t reasonablll ter b’lievo dey could be.”

 
 

 

 

 

  
    
    
  
   

Who'll fill our places and our shoes
(Such questions are of little use)

A hundred years from now?
Who‘ll bore us till we cannot see-—
Who'll slap us on the back so free
And then solicit a small V,

A hundred years from now?

Your rich old uncle, you can bet
Your money, will be living yet

A hundred years from now!
The actress, oh, the pretty dear,
Who’s thirty been for many a year,
How old will she be let me hear,

A hundred years from now?

   
   
    
   
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

 

Will you as ever have to shy
From your most favorite enemy
A hundred years from now?
Who’ll take such zeal in our affairs
That they would double all our cares,

   
  
  
  
  
 
   
     
  
     
   
  
  
  
   
  
    
   
 
   
   
   
  
 
   
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
    
   
  
 
 
 
    
   

 

 
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
 
 
 
    

 

  

 
  
 
 

 

   

-v

 

‘ “. -sts- M.~‘...-‘_~..__. —"—;OI\‘LA— “can. u. .. .13; -~._....._ .- ...._. .‘

 

 

 

 

 

Mg. «7 .flm.*'§l‘nk“f‘

"WE—w

 

While they (put on such friendly airs,
A hundre years from now?.

Will weather—grumblers spread and thrive,
And weather-prophets be alive

A hundred years from now?
Will snobs of their old families boast,
Church sextons earthly sinners roast,
And onion-eaters talk the most

A hundred years from now?

Will lawyers rise and lower their bills,
And doctors floor not men but ills

A hundred years from now?
Will kindness cease to be a crime,
Will civil service see its prime,
And creditors give lots of time,

A hundred years from now?

Will our landlady pause a bit,
Considering boarders love to out,
A hundred years from now?
Dried a )plc pics she‘s feeding us,
But will she see this overpliis
Or one thin r gels monotonous
A hiindrc years from now?

The tariff bill, will that be fixed,
Our foreign matters be less mixed

A hundred years from now?
Will they ma (c poems by machine,
The jokes We hear grow old and lean,
Or dailv papers get more clean

A hundred years from now?

And 011, would dear Mahala Jane.

'rapidly, and then pitch headlong to the
h .

An Indian warrior was seen to spring out
from behind a clump of bushes, totter blind-
ly forward a pace or two, reel, turn round

eart .

“ Hoora !” yelled old Rube, excitedly.

" That’l do, Bruin,” said Grizzly, in vain
striving to appear unconcerned. “Kim down,
lad, or—” but the words were lost in the tempest
of yells that followed the fatal shot.
at from timber, thicket, and Chaparral, the
Pawnee warriors poured in full strength, and
came charging, like so many infuriated demons,
across the open in front of our poaition.
“Thar’s a heap more uv ’em ’n thar wur at
fust,” said Rube, as he fired at the leading
braVe, who fell in his tracks.

“ You bet thar’s more of ’em comin’ then ’11
go back," said Grizzly Adams, with a grim
smile.

While this bit of conversation was going on
between the two friends, the other fellows were
busily engaged in a different manner, and more
effectually.

Such men never throw aways ball, and as the
rifles began to crack along the line, the advanc~
ing warriors began to drop here and there about
the plain.

 

 

 

 

Around thitsmp-Fire.

BY CAPTAIN RINGWOOD.

 

Old Grizzly Adams’ “ Nephey."

“GRIZZLY ADAMS, by the everlastin’ cata-
mount! Whoop! Hooray! Ef we don’t give

 

 

Slightly in ad-
vance of his companion, and mounted upon a
superb black of unusual power and s irit, rode I
the celebrated scout and hunter Grizz y Adams,
his tall form erect and graceful in the saddle,
his long, flowing beard and hair streaming out
upon the wind, his left hand lightly pressing the
bit, while the right, extended at full length, was
busily handling his six-shooter. ,

His companion was a much younger man—
indeed, he appeared to have scarcely passed the Q
threshold of manhood—but still he was but lit- :
tle, if any, the inferior of the other as regards
personal appearance. Fully as powerfully made,
though somewhat lighter of limb, every move-
ment betraying activity and strength, bestrid-
ing his fiery roan with the ease and grace of an
accomplished horseman, he presented an appear-
ance that could not fail to please the eye, and
at the same time inspire confidence.

“ Thar‘s a hull team an’ a brindle bull-dog un-
der the wagin!” exclaimed Rube, as he leaped
down from his exposed position. “ Whoever’s a
pardner uv Grizzly Adams ar’ bound to be a
screamer in a scrimmage, an’ ef my eye ain’t a-
foolin’ me, that yander youngst'r is jist that
thing. Look at him, boyees, an’ Lordyl see the
boss!”

As Rube spoke, the two men dashed round
the barrier and, with scarcely a percepti-

For a few seconds the men stood and gazed in
open admiration, and then with a wild yell they
lea ed the rocks and rushed to his assistance.

o had almost reached the scene of action
when the chief was seen to rush forward upon
the hard-pressed man, tomahawk in hand.

The youn hunter saw him likewise, and sud-
denly whe ing the roan, he rode full at the
chief, swinging his tomahawk in circles prepara-
t. ry to the cast.

The eye of the Indian measured the distance,

and he threw his weapon with fearful force, but
he, too, was a moment late. The li ht ax left
the hand of the white man a second t e soonest,
striking the hapless warrior full between the
e es.
yThis ended the conflict.
“ Young feller,” said Rube, grasping the
young hunter’s hand in his own horny palm,
“ I’m durnation proud ter know you, I am, to a
sartinty. Grizley hyar tells me as how ye ar’
his nephey, an’ b'leeve him, an’ of ye hain’t
a chip ofi’en the old block hyar, why yer next
thing to it, ef yer ain’t, I’m a nigger.”

 

“ His Darier Mariar.”

 

 

 

The light ax left the hand of the white man, striking the hapless w. rrior full between the eyes.

start i

soorn and derision.
This made the old man mad.

gramme. This time instead of the

had never witnessed before—nor have they since

there.
It was plainly apparent to the most careless

every nerve; and that each was striving to
come out first—best in the race. Around the
stake they flew with the speed of the wind and
then they were upon the home-stretch.

It was now patent to all observers who was
going to low the race, and at the same time win
a loving wife.
Josiah Perkins, the village blacksmith—being
very strong in the arms, but rather weak in
the legs—had fallen behind to such an extent

 

A long-drawn breath from the crowd; then a
laugh, terminating finally in a perfect yell of

His noble brow darkened with anger, and draw-
ing one of his navies he said: " Next time you
fellOWs will start, or I’ll know the reason why !—-
However, we’ll have a little change in the pro-
first man ' .
out having Mariar for his wife, it shall be the I dey hes holp demselves putty liberill in do pro-
last one—All ready now; one—two—three, and cess from what ’longed for somebody ’sides
away you go!” And away they did go with a ,demselves. An’ when dey am Jes’ or’nary,
rush. Such running the inhabitants of Auburn ’ triflin‘ White trash, hit am 188’ es well ter take

 

 

ble motion. threw their horses back upon
their haunches, and sprung lightly to the
ground.

Old Rube Harkins seemed beside himself
with joy.

He rushed forward and grasped the scout’s
hand with greater warmth than I had ever seen
him display.

“ Wall, wall!” he exclaimed, “ who’d ’a’ thort
it! why, Grizzly, old boss, whar the blazes did
yer cum from ennyhow?”

“ Lower kentry, Rube. But how’s this? what
devdtrv ar’ these long-legged Pawnee im 5
arter?” replied the stalwart hunter, cordially
returning the greeting. “ Looks kinder squally,”
he continued, “but I reckin me an’ Bruin, hyar,
cut the’r count summat. Eh, boy .9"

The young man, who had been standing quiet-
ly by, leaning upon a long, heavy rifle, looked
up with a smile and replied:

“ I think we hurt some of them pretty badly,
at least you did, iorI saw three of them go down
under your fire.”

“ Allers the way with the lad, Rube,” said
Grizzly, with a low chuckle. “The boy don’t
never blow much, you see, ’bout what he dooes
hisself: lays it onto me. you know; but yer kin
bet high then he didn‘t waste no powder in the
timmer yander.”

“ Who ar’ the youngster, Grizzly?’ asked
Rube in a low tone, as the young man turned
away.

“ all. Rube, yer mou’t say he war a chi uv
the old block, but he ain’t edzackly, though urn
my moccasins of I don’t wish be war. Hear’
my nephey, Rube. kim out frum ther States in
l’arn the ways, an’ he’s a~l’arnin’ ’em now I tell
you. Jest waita bit an’ mebby you’ll bev a
chance tu see fer yerself ef he ain’t wuss’n a hull
nest o’ painters, an’ a sprinklin’ uv wild cats in
ther l):ll‘—”

“Hyar they come!” shouted one of the fel-
lows who had been on the lookout.

I chanced to be looking at the young stranger
at the moment the alarm was given, and the
rapid change from an attitude of perfect repose
to one full of life, fire and eager anticipation
was absolutely startling.

nary man could scarcely bring to the shoulder—
into the hollow of his left arm, he sprung quick-
ly forward, at a bound mounted the natural
breastwork, and looked out over the plain. The
whole thing was so quickly, so naturally, and
withal, so fearlessly done, that a suppressed
murmur of admiration ran around the men,
all of whom had been used to such scenes for
ours.

y “What ar’ it, Bruin?” quietly asked Old
Grizzly.

 

 

watch his motions, as far as possible, in the com-
ingconflict. ‘
otwithstanding the deadly fire to which

they were subjected, the Pawnees rushed deter- I

minedly forward, evidently bent upon getting
to close quarters, a thing that we were in no way
eager for.

The young hunter had taken his position upon

the left of our fellows. while, as thou h by pre- ‘
ad taken I.

concerted action, old Grizzly Adams
the right flank.

Coolly, and with fatal precision, the young
man delivered his fire, and then drawing his
heavy six—shooter in his right, and holding a

long, keen blade in his left,he awaited the nearer 1

shock.

With a yell the Pawnees dashed themselves
against the rocky barrier, While 0 hers, seeking
to turn our flanks, endeavored to pass around
upon either side.

Far better had they attempted to scale the
rock, for there they met obstacles ten times more
difficult to pass.

Like a lion loosed, “Bruin” Adams raged
among his dusky foes.

In front and upon either side they pressed
him, cutting, thiusting, hacking, with knife,
lance and tomahawk, but in vain.

Chamber after chamber be emptied full in
their faces. and then, when the weapon was

useless, he threw it behind him, and, suddenly ‘,

shifting the knife to his right hand, he sprung
into the mith of the bewildered savages.

At the opposite end, where Grizzly Adams and ‘

Old Rube were fighting. side by side, the Indians

suffered even more.

holiday pastime.
When the young hunter closed in for knife

work, I saw the odds were too great, even for ,

him, and leaving my position, I crossed over and

took position by his side. Here I had a still bet— E
ter opportunity of watching the young fellow‘s ?

wonderful nerve and strength.
Wherever his blade fell, muscl -, cartilage and
bone gave way under the powerful stroke.
Every now and then the deep, full voice
3f old Grizzly Adams rose above the din of con-
ict.

to the stern, set look of battle.
It was utterly impossible for the Indians to
long stand such work.
With yells of terror and defeat they broke and
fled across the open.
thBut even here the avenging hand was upon
em.
As the savages broke, “ Bruin ” Adams uttered
a shrill, peculiar call, to which the neigh of a
lhorsedresponded, and instantly the roan was at
is 51 e.

With them it was but a;

ment, and a large concourse of people were
gathered upon the open plat of ground fronting
the town upon the east.

It was a motley assembly, consisting of men,
5 women and chil ren of all ages, sizes and con-
i ditions, varied here and there with poodleedogs
; and negroes. In fact, the whole town had
_ turned out to witness the “ circus.”

But the objects of interest, the observed of
all observers, what were they? What had hap-
pened? “That was to transpire here of such
' absorbing interim; as to draw away from their
‘ legitimate business all the inhabitants of the
town?

Do you see those seven young men standing
, there in the midst of that crowd of epic?
i Those young men are the cause of all t is un-
3 usual excitement. Those seven hale and hearty
l young citizens of Auburn are shortly to engage
1 in a struggle for the mastery: in a contest for
.supremacy, upon the issue of which depends
‘ more than life itself.

I Those seven young Auburnites are about to
i run a foot—race, the stake to be— But let me
, describe it. It is seated upon a log not more
, than ten feet distant from our young heroes,
3 whom it regards with huge amiability out of a
T pair of muddy-gray eyes; has red hair, a
: freckled face and a turn up nose; is dressed for
. the occasion in a faded and soiled calico dress—
worn short for comfort: is nineteen years of
, age and—feminine gender.
‘ This is old man Martin’s “ Darler Mariar ” and
the stake for which our bold and dashing blades
3 are to contend.
They are a happy set—those young men, but
T somehow they don’t allow their happiness to
find expression upon their countenances.
‘ Old man Martin is of course master of cere-
. monies.
It was at his suggestioa, in fact, that this lit-
. tle foot-race was gotten on.
1 Up to within a few weeks of the present time,
_ those seven young men had been paying Maria
, marked “attentions,” but all at once, much to
that young lady’s discomfiture, they ceased do-
ing so. She had immediately proposed to her

, outside his coat, he started out. The result was

. as we have seen. He persuaded the entire

f seven to appear and take part in the foot race

j for his “ Darter Mariar’s ” hand.

i The young men were all fleet runners, and it

1 was a question in the minds of the people pres-

. cut as to which would win the rise.

; The details Were arranged By the old man,

, and at a word from him the young men ad-

vanced and look up their positions in a line.

There wasa look of desperate determination

 

a hug and a kiss that could have been heard
half a mile oil', at least. g

Josiah picked himself up with quite a crest- l
fallen air, but with a look upon his countenance
which said as plainly as words: “ I accept the
inevitable.”

The village minister was now called into re-
quisition, and the happy twain were made one
before leaving the spot. The old man was a be-
liever in the doctrine of: “ When you‘ve got a
good thing keep it.”

The six defeated candidates for matrimonial
honors showed their base ingratitude upon the
following evening, by “shivareeing ” our young
married couple for two hours by the watch,
and desisting then only out of sheer exhaustion.

 

 

Unbleachsflomeslics.

BY ALF RESCO.

“Has-k” o—ngmcuiture.

. apple tree worms.

i‘ But wh not, Hark?

“ ’Kasc e day was tee~totall an’ bodacious]
made widout any materials in’ used in o
oornstructiOn, yer can’t ’spect doy would be
strong, in fast place, an’ well finished in do
nex’.”

“No, I su pose not.”

“Cou’se ger doesn’t. Whar dey is really
wo’th mo’ dan de powder an’ shot hit would
take to kill dem, yer may bet or collar-button

 

dere words fer hit. Ef dey claims ter be self-

I . . . .
for that matter, as they witnessed then and made, 1 b’lieves in givm’ dem de benefit ob de

doubt.”
“Then you admit that you have seen some

observer, that the young men were straining ; people that may have been self-made?"
.Y

“Jes’ es like es not. Dis pa’t ob de worl’
I am full an’ flowin’ ober wid self-made niggers—
v anybody kin see dat—an’ I knows some white
{folks what talks an’ acts like dey mought be
’titled ter de same honor‘ble distinction.”

“Only you don’t see the honor?”

“ I ’clar’ ter de Jedges I doesn’t! Hit‘s like a
heap ob de airs an’ frills what some folks puts
on ’bout dere blood, ’kase some ob dere go-
; befores ‘scaped bein’ hung. Dey may be a

From the first I had been strongly drawn to- BY SAD cox. that it was easy to see that he would be the last right smart chance better dan dere neighbors;
Have me keep on in the the same strain ward the young hunter. His bold, manly —— man to cross the mark. all is I hain’t neber had de proper specktickles
A hundred 3'0i11'5,f1‘0n,1 “0‘”? bearing, his undoubted courage and coolness, IT was about three o’clock in the afternoon of He was game, though, and stuck to it to the ter see hit frough.” . . .
1? 1°?“,1’1103’"’§Ses.1“,th‘S,‘If‘3: his fine, 0 en countenan0e and intelligent eye, a pleasant day in the latter part of the month last, putting the grand, finishing touch to the “I had no idea you had studied this question
. iv?   all serve to center my interest upon him at of September. affair by stumping his toe and failing headlong so deep! .” . .
’ A hundredyears from nolwllly once. It was but natural then that I should In the little village of Auburn all was excite- into the arms of Maria, who received him with " I tel s yer how hit comed about. boss. Hit

war dis yere way. I hed two dogs—bofe ob dem
what yer mought call self-made—I didn’t train
nary one ob dem: 'ka’se wb , I hedn’t do time
nor do inclernation, an’ ’si es I didn’t see dat
dey was wo’th it."

" So they educated themselves?”

“Prezactly what day did. De dog ob de fus’
part, be war one ob do class dat goes in fer
makin’ domselves—dat be war! He war on do
make, eber hour when he wa’n’t sleepin’. Yes,
dat valler o , Jcfl', war a self-made dog, sho’l”

“ Made up of pickings and stealings, eh!”

 

 

n V 9
  a    I'm a .. Dammit; 2:." 1 £3.12; 3:303:55
mggur!” and Rube garkms Jump“ qpon one or yallfr varmint credick fer boin’ fat an’ sassy
 i, the rocks behind which we were making astand when l knows "bar hit come. from An, d“:
‘1!“ against a war-party of Pawnees, and waved his am a u“ number as Class ob men an do foot-
' old leather cap excitedly over his head. The stool gbaghes {011011811 do same con.“ an, we is
'1 Indians had fallen back for the third time after we” win, dem so: u on some inn‘el'fle Ob do
’ a charge of more than usual ferocity, and were tem le what eber on: what bulges d de (00L
: Z busily getting ready for their next onslaught, ‘ ~ ,1 , “not; gin fan don-{1.11, word”. dempe
" 3 {we 1; rtepigedischarge of fire;ng In; mfg; '  4- 1, “1 doesn’t make no obi email. only 198’ dis—-
,' e 0 im r upon our rig was ear , x I ‘ “'I , ‘ w .
" gether with the wild, exultant yell such as only ’ ‘\"‘///////..,‘  $0“ {3" dey 0”" dud" d“ do! Jefl "1 d°
' a mountain-man can give. . ‘ ,3 . .
 Every one was ins(l;iantlyhond thetalert, 1and ’ musxeékiee, "as “1 enterpmmg camne’ you
f' every eye was turne in t o irec ion, w on, u . , '_, . , . .
-, suddenly, from out the timber two horsemen h. ble'dm mtsp‘gg‘mfith“225tdiflmmtuid3:
f. burst like a thunderbolt, and firing rapidly right fun adwfintagehob dem gang "eber give no cred-
and leni‘ ~r0de at a sweepmg ganOp Stralght for V ick fer do materials what he holp hisself to.”
our ppsmon' “ Very like human nature.”
A Single glance from the keen eye of old Rube ,, But do Oder n he war tr u on do
, was sufficient, and was followed by the joyful u“, find [a o ghoulmr, fig? “ugh, else
 exclamation, “Grizzly Adams, by the everlast- iq P iniogph m t do! , l '
 in’ catamount!” and then, from eVery throat, '3 my. D ' ° m" ' ,secon c {’35 *1:
L, l . . ginawmo sort oh so -made, no count critters.
J, there went up a ringing shout of welcome to “Wh tw h “k t ta t “hr,
'  the bravest heart, the stoutest arm, and the ' ‘8 ° °’ 0 s r w
.5 quickest eye upon the border.

“Now yo’s gittin’ at it. Yer wants ter know
what dar war in dis ease ter build on.
I kin tell yer, honey.
,purp ob do secon’

Blest ef
Hit’s clean past me. De
'1; war one ob deso yere

i bench-leg’d flees, w at don’t ’inount ter much

at do best.”

“ And this was at the worst?”

“Jes’ so; kaso I done let him alone. Well,
hit’s do good Lor’s trufe, do dog hadn’t de am-
bition horned in him to: lead him ter help his-
self : an so, yer see, es notody thought it wo’th
while tor help him, he jes’ hung ‘roun’, an’ looked
solemn es a sick ow], an’ some folks was fooled
inter do idee, from his gin’ral ’pearance dat he
must be a right peart dog. Yes, be war self-
made, sho’l”

 

 

Telephone Echoes.

Miss MARIAN, of Germany, is seventeen years
old, eight feet two inches high, and weighs 260
pounds. What a mother-in-law that girl will
make u hen she gains experience!

EVE was the only woman who never threat-
ened to go and live with mamma: and Adam
was the only man who never tantalized his wife
about “ the way l-Otbel‘ used to cook.”

A WESTERN editor received a letter from a
subscriber asking him to ublish a cure for
He re lied that he could not
suggest a cure until be new what ailed the
worms.

A FASHION item says “oval necks are more
fashionable than pompadour squares.” This
fashion should be encouraged. Girls born with
square necks don’t look as well as those whose
necks are even, oval.

A YOUNG lady of twoand-twenty years re-
fused to marry a man of fifty, saying that he
was neither one thing or another. He was too
old for a husband. and too young to hold out
any hope of immediate widow hood.

SHE laid her cheek on the easy chair against
his head and murmured. “ How Ido love to rest
my head against your head, Augustus!” "Do
you?” said be. “Is it because you love me i"
" No; because it is so nice and soft.”

IN one wagon on a Kansas road recentlv
there was a handcuffed man going to rison, his
crazy wile going to an insane asy um, their
three living children going to the poor-house,

 

“ I DON’T put no faith in it,” said the old man;
“hit hain’t often do case, I don’t reckon, in do
fus’ place. an’ when hit am, hit hain’t likely =
to be wo’th shucks. Dat‘s what I” '

“ Do you mean. Uncle Hark, that you don’t
believe in self made men?”

“ Ef dey made dereselves, hit’s lierhle to be
mighty po‘rly done; dat’s my way ob thinking.”

“ But you can‘t help knowing that there are
many such people: and very excellent and suc-
cessful people, too.”

“ But how much ob dis, ye reckon, Mass’ Alf,
dey perduced dereselves—jl—s’ outen dere own
brains, an’ widout help from nobody—dat’s what
Iexes yer?”

“ Really couldn’t say.”

“ ’Twouldn’t be much fer say ef yer did. De
oberwhelmin’ majority ob dem sort ob citizens
built up dere kerracters an’ fortun’s outcn what
dey foun’ layin’ roun’ loose, ’longin’ ter oder
folkses. An’, fer de life ob dis ole hat-rack, I
doesn’t see whar dere am sich a heap ob differ

and a dead taby in the mother’s arms going to
the grave.

Economsz TIME—A Lsc'rnmdiscoursi rg
on tte subject of “ Health,” inquired:—“ What
use can a man make of his time while waitin
for a doctor 3” Before he could regin his answer
to his own in uiry, some one in the audience
cried cut:—“ 9 can make his will.”

A SEVEN YEAR older, with the punster’s mark
on his brow, at dinner, asked his mother what
was in a jar on the table. “ Pickles, my son,”
was the reply. “Then, mamma, please pickle

, little one out for me,” came with stunning force

from the child, and the mother fell over a chair
and fainted.

AN old story is being revived of a rayer-
meeting held for a poor fellow’s relief w 0 had
broken his leg. While D;acon Brown was
praying. a tall fellow nilh an ox~goad knocked
at the door, saying, “Father could not come,
but sent his rayers in the cart.” They were
potatoes, bee , pork, and corn.

. father to brin suit for breach of romise ’twixt rowin’ u on what ers on es an’ tak- FAME i5 no” sue” a very sure thing- Tom

5 The clear, gray eye flashed, the thin, wide nos- “ Now’s yer time to Peru, lad! Into ’em hot ‘ against six out got the seven, but the C d man in’ de ’sgistance wlliat am ofiZred In agperlite way Mamba”? 13“ word“, as he turned his face to-

+.' tril dilated, and the broad chest heaved under and heavy!” said he could settle the matter satisfactorily to by daddies, an’ ",yardeeas, an’ oders in nai’rai ward 1‘ Wm‘lo‘m were: “ This is the end! I am

the exCitement of antic1pated action. _ A quiet smile flitted for an instant over the all parties concerned without having recourse authority.” dying 0“ ‘1 bm'mw‘d bed, under a borrowed
Swmging the heavy rifle—one that an ordi- young man’s face, to give place a moment after .' to the law; so, buckling two navy revolvers on

 

“Only, you know, it is apt to require a
greater effort to get along in the former case; ,
and is more likely to bring out what is in a I
man.”

“ Jes’ so. An’ it equilly required a heap big?
ger effort in dis cullud pusson ’fore he ’sperienced
a change ob heart, ter git his s’ply ob chickings i
an‘ wat’millions in de self-made wa what ye’re
’ludin’ at, dan ter ax fer a piece w on he han—
kered a’ter it. I doesn’t see dat de a ment
what ver fotches up air ve conwincin , Mass’ :

it. Hit am nat’ral ter be p ourselves in dat ,

blanket. in a house built by public charity!
Bury me under that oak tree where there is
Plfen’ty of room. I have been crowded all my
1 e.

SCIENTISTS say that shutting the eyes makes
the hearing more acute. This explains why a
man can’t sneak into a house at midnight and
crawl upstairs as noiselessly a a feather with-
out being heard by his wife, who is asleep. If
women were to sleep with their eyes open. mar-
ried men would have more fun at the lodge
when there is a protracted sesswn.

 

 

 

 

 

""“' ‘ 'u’.g , r ._ ~...