E. F. Beadle.
William Adams.
Davnd Adams.

}I’UBLISIIERS.

HRISTMAS ON A WHALE’S BACK.

_.v.. ... «Q *,__

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.

____._.. . +.+ W... .—

 

WE were chasing cachalots in the South I’a-
ciflc. We had “ struck iic," pure sperm, to
some purpose; having “tried out” nearly sulli-
cient to Complete the cargo of the ship. Cap-
tain and crew all partners in the specul'ttion
—we were alike jubilant over our successful
cruise; and in this state of mind Christmas
came upon us.

As most of us were Pennsylvanians, it is
scarcely necessary to say that the day did not
act as a damper upon our spirits. On the con-
trary, we determined that it should be kept
in the antipodes, as at home, with all due so-
lemnity, and as much cheer as could be ex-
tracted out of the storewroonls of a. Whaler.
Snoh had been the custom of ourcraft, whether
cruising amid the icebergs of the Arctic ocean,
or on the blue bosom of the Southern Sea.

On the present occasion there Was more than
the ordinary incitement to hilarious thought.
Like sportsmen who have had a good day, we
were oing home with a full gamerbag.

Am so near going home! The reflection
brought Christmas still more vividly before our
minds; and if there was a drawback, it was
only the regret that we could not be at home to
spend it among sisters, sweet cousins, and other
kinsfolk.

Not the less merry had we determined to
make it upon the sea; and to carry out this in—
tention, every available resource was summon-
ed into contribution. Right cheerfully the
captain placed his stores at our disposal; and
the cook promised to produce such a spread as
was never set before a crew of voracious Whaler-
men.

There was some talk about the absence of tur-
ke ; and the goose, too, was equally unobtain-
ab 0. There were propositions of a substitute,
in the gulls, noddies, and gannets, that flew
thickly around the ship. Perhaps an albatross
coming past at that moment, would have stood
achance of getting shot and afterward eaten;
but all these escaped, after furnishing food for
pleasant repartee and laughter.

There was no cause for despondency on the
score of provisions. The ship’s store contained
sufficient for the serving of a substantial dinner;
plenty of beef—“ prime mess "'—-with pork,
pickles, and preserves. There was flour of the

rst quality, and raisins, quaintly called
“plums,” to make the pudding, and brandy to
light the blue blazes around it. Enough, too,
for indulgence in “snapdragon,” which the
capvtain promised we should have.

8 were to have soup and fish, and chowder
~some albacore caught for the occasion, giving
a chance for the two last. And there were
to be “secure” and “duff,” and a half-score
other dishes, known only to the chef de cuisine
of a ship. To a crew kept twelve months upon
salt junk, the promised carte appeared epicu-
roan.

I need not say that the deck had been cleared,
so far as circumstances would permit, cleansed,
and holystoned, like a ship of war. Nor need I
add, that we were all in our Sumlay-go—ashores,
the best our sea‘chests could produce.

Some were got up with as much elegance as
if a ball had been about to come off on board,
With Queen Pomare and her court beauties be-
spoken as partners in the dance; while all were
dressed with sufficient care to show their re-
spect for the day.

There was but one among us who remained

 

 

 

“slouchy” on the occasion, and declined to
enter into the spirit of the ceremonies. It was
the mate. He was a Plymouth man, and, if I
mistake not, a “Plymouth brother.” At all
events, he was of the true Puritan type and
strips, as pure a. specimen as ever were short
crop or sung long canticles.

He was by no means short in person, standing
full six feet in his whaling—boots; and he was
strong boned and sinewy in proportion. Of an
extremely taciturn habit, his voice was rarely
heard, except when put forth in the discharge
of his duty, and then in such lugubrious tones
that the orders given by him appeared to issue
from the hold of the ship.

During the whole cruise, of now twenty
months’ continuance, he had never been seen to

 

smile, and on this bright Christmas morning, i
when everybody around him was giggling 1n:

joyous glee, his countenance appeared gloomier
than ever.

Nobody took any note of this. All knew the
idiosyncrasy of Elijah, or “Lige Coflin,” for
such was the funez'eal appellation of the first
mate of our ship.
took any part in their sports, though, if it had

(‘orvmonn 1353, my “mum: AND Alums.

NEW YORK, JANUARY 12, 1884. IN

 

“Larb’rd bovvl” was the response from the
mast—head. “ There she blows!”

'We would not have been whalesmen to have
sat still under such exciting dialogue; and. in
two seconds’ time, all hands were crowded upon
the larboard bow, looking off into the distant
oceaiL

Not so distant, either, for the “spout” that
betrayed the breathing of the huge. leviathan
was seen scarcely three cahles’ length from the
ship. From the thick, burly foam of the white
vapor cloud, we could tell that the whale was
a cachalot, but it was near enough for us to dis‘
tinguish his species by other well known signs;
as the square, blunt head, and the protuberant
“ hunch ” of the neck, and the “hump” with
its “ ridge” declining toward the tail.

We could see, too, thar he was an old bull,
“ piebald ” and “ grayheaded,” one of the
largest we had encountered upon the cruis3.

“ By jingo, a hundred-barreler!” exclaimed
one, as we first caught sight of the huge crea-
ture. “ And going as slow as a plow-ox! See
there! Spmting out, and he hain’t sounded!
He wants the iron into him 1”

Just at that moment there were few among
us who cared either for a chase or capture.

The delectable fragrance floating forward
from the galley-kitchen had a hold upon us
stronger than any cetaceons attraction: and had
the cachalot been a cow, or even a whole school
of cows, we might have resisted the temptation
to go after it.

But a splendil bull—a “hundredbarreler,”

~ as the mm had described it—with sperm oil at

They knew that he never

sixty dollars to the barrel, “ case ” and “ junk ”
in proportion. This was a different affair.

As I have said, we were a jointstock crew,
all sharers in the “take,” and our duty to the

, ship, as to ourselves, forbade hanging back.

been to hold a prayer-meeting, he would have ,
acted as its leader; and had been heard fre-i

quently to deplore the wickedness of the crew
in not making this one of their daily prac—
tices.

Notwithstanding his somewhat unamiable
disposition, he was not despised. All knew him
to
deck of a ship, and as good a whalesman as
ever hurled spear or harpoon. If unsocial, he
was not tyrannical, and, although there was
not one of the crew who could “cotton” to
him, there were none who regarded him with
contempt.

No doubt many upon that Christmas day
would have been glad to have seen him cheerful
along with the rest, but few took note of the

be as thorough a. seaman as ever trod the.

 

i
i
i

It was tantalizing to be called away at such a
moment, but ten timcs more so to let the cacha—
lot escape.

Six thousand dollars was too much for the en—
joyment of a dinner—even a Christmas one!

Besides the hull was now close upon curquar-
ter, disporting himself under our very noses, as
if in proud defiance! VVuere was the whalesman
who could Stand it?

It needed not the captain’s voice—just then
coming from the quarter-deck—to encourage us.

“We must haVe him aboard, boys,” cried he;
“just the dish to crown our Christmas dinner:
he’ll stand for both goose and turkey, and give
us enough oil besides to complete our cargo.
Let’s postpone dinner then till we’ve struck him.
VVe’ll eat with a better appetite, and I’ll draw

shadow that had gathered darker upon his brow, ’ double rations of the best old bourbon.”

and fewer still would have taken the trouble to
account for it.

Those who did, set it down to the well-known
proclivity of his nature; which was, or seemed
to be, to feel sad when others were smiling.

E

“ All right, captain, all right, we’re ready 1”

“Out boats, then, and onto him. Fifty dol-
lars to the first boat that makes fast!”

“'ith an alertness only known to the crew of
a whale-ship, the boats were soon lowered and

Accustomed to the solemnity of our first of— i manned, and we were soon in full chase of the
fleer, we, the common hands, were but little af— i cachalot.

fected by it; much less on that merry morning,
when duty was relaxed, and his authority for
the time in abeyance. _ I

The sun had passed over the meridian, and
the savory odors, oozing out of the galley, and
floating in the direction of the forecastle, ad-
monished us that, ere long, the dinner would be
dished.

We were in the spring—tide of pleasurable an- .

ticipation, when at that moment a cry. coming
from aloft, pealed down upon the decks, caus-

l
i

ing a change in the countenance of every one ‘

who heard it.

It was a shout we had of late often listened .

to, but perhaps never before with less pleasura-
ble feeling; nay, I can say with certainty that
never before did the cry, “She blows!” ring
along the decks of a whale-ship. creating less
excitement among her crew. There was emo-
tion, and enough of it; but it was regret, not
ov.

2‘ \Vhereaway?" in long—dra wn, lugubrious ca-

dence, asked a voice, easily recognized as that i

of the first ofliccr.

I was one of the crew of the larboard boat,
and, of course, under the command of the first
mate, who is leader of this boat. There were
three other rowers besides myself and the boat-
steerer; in short, the usual complement.

Stimulated by the thought of a sixth share
in the fifty dollars, we, the rowers, did our best
pulling, and succeeded in laying the larboard
boat alongside the leviathan before either the
starboard or waist boats had got within a bun-
dred yards of it.

In another instant our boat—steerer stood to
his feet, and poising his harpoon on high,
plunged it socket-deep into the blubber of the
whale, just under the neck hunch.

\Ve saw that we were “ fast.”

“Give way, there, give way!" shouted the
mate; and to the order we pulled off to avoid
the broad fluke now lashing the water into
foa m.

Only for a few seconds did the “ bobtailing ’7
continue, and then to the cry, “ There he goes,
eyes out!” the cachalot started off to windward.
like a horse dragging upon the bit, and mad-

 

dened by the spur that still rankled between his
ribs.

Out went the line to the last fathom, and
then, becoming taut, our boat was carried
through the wateras if towed by a fast steamer

Fora full half hour did this strange towing
continue, till first the boats, and then the ship,
sunk out of our sight.

Some of us began to feel alarmed, the boat-
steerer amorg the rest, and counseled cutting
off and letting the whale g0.

1But Lige Coffin would not listen to such coun-
se 5.

“No,” drawled he, in his strange, singing
voice, “ he’s had the harpoon, and we’ve got to
give him the lance. He won’t go much further,
now. Don’t ye see he’s ablowin’ blood‘?’

We looked. The cachalot was again spouting,
the spout each minute rising higher and show—
ing a tinge of red, that became deeper and
deeper as the huge creature breathed out his
own blood!

“Now he lies to.
haul line!”

Dropping our cars, we commenced pulling
upon the harpoon-line.

\Ve were soon once more close alongside the
wounded whale, when the mate, seizing one of
the lances, leaned forward over the bow of the
boat, and thrust with all his strength, several
times returning the weapon and dealing a fresh
blow.

The huge bull attempted to sound, but
weakened by the loss of blood, now rushing
thick and fast through his spurt~hole, he could
only sink himself a few feet below the surface,
while the mate, still plying the spear, with well-
directed strokes, soon dispatched him, and he
lay like a log upon the water.

It was now necessary to return for the other
boats to assist in towing the cai‘caSS t0 the ship,
or else bring the ship to the carcass.

To make sure of finding it, the boat-steerer
scrambled up to the cachalot‘s back, and stuck
one of the flag signals into the hump that stood
highest above the water.

This done, the harpoon was cut out, and the
boat-steerer returning to his place, we com-
menced rowing back.

lVe had got but a short distance from the
dead whale when the boat-steerer, looking
ahead, cried out, “She blows! she blows! she
blt)ws!”

“Whereaway?” was the question asked by
Lige Coffin.

“Starboard bow—two points. ’Most dead
ahead. Bearing down on us!”

Once more our boat’s crew were in a state of
wild excitement. And no wonder. We had
killed one cachalot. There was the chance of
striking another. Glory and gain crowding
upon us together.

“Ship oars and lay to,” sung out Coffin, “it’s
a cow and a calf. They’re running this way.
Look alive, Bill, and let the sucker have it
first!”

Haul line, my heal-ties,

The mate had scarce finished speaking when ‘

the cachalot came surging along—a cow, as re—
ported, with her young calf, a “ sucker,” swim-
ming by her fin.

The calf was nearest; and in another second
of time the harpoon was sticking in its side.

The creature rolled over at the stroke, and
lay lifeless in the water.

The calf killed, we had no fear of the mother
rushing away. and the cow at once came to.

The boat carried a second harpoon; and, seiz-
ing this, the steerer lanched it.

It struck, burying itself deep in the blubber;
and the mate cried out “Fast!”

But instead of the cow staying upon the spot,
as we expected, she “breached” clear out of
the water: and. then coming down with a ter-
rific plash, ran “head out,” taking the line
alongr with her.

The cord was soon tent: and away we went
for a second drag, this time going with greater
velocity than ever.

“3: were soon out of sight, both of sucker and

 

One copy, tour months, $1.00
One rlvpy, one year, . . . 3.00
'wo copies,one year, . . 5.00

 

slain bull, and even the flag had disappeared,
before the cow came to a stand.

When she did so, we commenced hauling line,
but with greater caution than before, knowing
that there was greater danger‘ in the chase we
were pursuing.

We had got close to the cachalot, lying still
upon the surface, when all at once we saw the
convex curving of the “ridge,” and the tail
turning upward.

“There goes flakes!” cried the steerer; “she’s
going to sound! look out for squallsl”

As he spoke the cachalot elevated her flukes
high in the air, and poising herself perpendicu-
larly, as if standing upon her head, disappeared
under v. atcr.

lVe were pulling hard to get off to a safe dis-
tance, wnen a sudden shock struck the boat;
and in the midst of a continuous crashing, I felt
as if I was falling from ascafi'old. The only
difference in the sensation was, that I was go-
ing up instead of downward.

Before finishing the reflection the order was
reversed, and I found myself descending head—
foremost into the sea.

1 must have been tossed high in the air, to
judge from the depth I went under the water,
for as I Ceased sinking and began to buoy up
again, there was thick darkness around me.

On returning to the light and getting the
brine out of my eyes, I looked ahead for the
boat. There was no boat in sight. And my
companions, where were they? There was not
one of them to be seen. Nothing upon the sur-
face, neither boat nor body! Even the huge
creature that had fluked us was not there. She
had not returned from her soundings.

1 n as alone upon the wayless water.

It was not waveless. A fresh breeze had
sprung up, and with it waves, that were begin—
ning to show crests. But for this, no doubt, I
should have seen some of those who had been
cast into the sea along with me. They must
Still be near, like myself, buffeting with the bil-
lows.

I called aloud; but received no answer. A
gull swooping overhead croaked the only reply.

I struck out to swim, in hopes of finding some
fragments of the boat, for my senses had now
grown clearer, and felt sure it had been shat-
tered by the cachalot’s tail.

But I swam on without seeing a sign, either
of the boat or those who had manned it.

1 turned and swam_in the opposite direction,
and then turned again, and swam I know not
whither. Neither wreck nor wrecked could be
seen!

I stopped striking, and lay still upon the wa-
ter. 1 was an excellent swimmer, and able to
keep afloat for a great length of time.

I had paused to reflect on what I had best do.

My first thought was to swim to the ship.
But where was the ship? She might be north,
or south, or east, or west of me; to the right or
the left, before or behind.

But what mattered it about what direction?
Even had I known it to a point, and kept it to
a point,I couldn’t possibly have reached her.
She was out of sight when we struck the bull-
whale. Out of sight would mean six nautical
miles. Few men could swim such a distance-—
certainly not I. I knew this, and knowing it,
had not the courage to attempt it.

Perhaps I might have done so had I been sure
of the direction; but altogetherignorant of this,
I lay despairingly upon the waves.

I did not long remain inactive.

A thought came up that excited fresh hope.
I remembered the dead cachalot—the bull.

The carcass could not be so very far off. By
reaching it, I might be saved.

Oh! if I could only sight the signal flag! or
even tell the direction in which it was flying.

I raised myself erect, and looked over the
waves. 1 swept the horizrm around and around.
The bit of hunting would have been a glad sight:
but it greeted not my eyes. No flag floated
anywhere—only the crested swell broke the
level line of the sea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
  

 

 

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' It would not do to remain stationary, I

should onlv tire out, go under, and drown.

Stimulated b: this thought, I once more.

uck our trustin to chance. '
8“And wince carI-ied me, if not to safety, at
on t to com )anionship. ‘
l Ishad pr )glressed about a cable’s length, when
I saw something dark upon the combing ot a
are". It was the figure ,0! a man, apparently
standing new, but immersed waist deep in the
water. Was he dead or alivd - .

The strange apparition was directly in the
track I. had been pursuing, and lswam on t.)
Ward it. '

On getting nearer I could see that the man
still lived, and that. he was straddling a piece
of timber—a portion of the broken boat.

I could see who he was—Lige C: Ilia, the mate
-—and that he still carried in his hand‘the lance
ho had been wielding ugainst the whales. .

He was using its blade as an oar, and making
way through the water. . .

I shouted, and swam toward him. ‘ .

“ Don’t come near me! ’ he said, speaking in a
strange, sepulchral tone. “D m’t conic near!
The bit of iimler I’m on is only sufficient lor
one. As you value your life, don’t come near
me!” _

While saying this he held the lance pmsed,
and pointed tOward me, in a threatening man-
ner.

There was no mistaking his tone, nor the dark
look out of his hollow eye. These, without: the
gt-sture, would have sati:fied one as to his in—
tentions. .

But there was something else still more con-
vincing. At that moment the wave rolled up a
form right before my face. It was the body of
a man. I saw it was Bill, the boat-steerer.

I saw 13,10 that he was dead, with a fearful
wound from a broad blade across his chest.

“ You see that  7’ said Collin, pointing to the
unsightly gash. “ lt was all his Own domg. He
would loss: on taking a seat booide me, and
that’s how the affair ended. Take warning by
him anti don’t come near me!” _

Horrified at Coffin’s terrible revolution, 1 was
about to fall back and leave him to himself, but
the corpse was beside me, and to get out of its
ghastly presence I swam on after him.

I took care to keep beyond his reach. The
expression upon his countenanceadded to what
I had seen, admonished me sutficrently for this.
I could see that it was not anger, nor yet any-
thing of is’ihumanity, only a determination to
take care of himself—the mere instinct of self-
preservation.

He was not a man of either cruel or brutal
nature; and I swam on with my eyes fixed upon
his. I fancied I could perceive in them an ex—
pression of pity.

“Can you see nothing?” I asked; “you are
higher up than I. Look around, for Heavens
sake! Perhaps there may be something in
sight, if only an oar or another fragment or the
boat.” _

He acceded to my request, and commenced
scanning the sea.

I watched every motion of his features, noted
every glance of his eye, with the anxrousearn-
ostness of one who, in the glass of the clairvoy-
ant, expects to behold his features. I

I watched till his eyes turned back to me With
a dull look of disappointment. _

“ Nothing,” he said; “ ne‘er a thing in Sight.”

“ The ship?—the flag upon the dead whale?”

“ Neither. I wish there was. It’s one or
t’other I’m lookin’ out for myself.”

Once more I swam despairingly, still keeping
him in sight—still near. I fancied he did not
like this, and would have been 'glad had 1 fallen
behind. But I was determined not to do so. It
would be something to die in the company of a
fellow-creature.

All at once he rose and looked out as if some—
thing had come under his eye.

“ What is it?” I asked, eagerly.

“ Well, I thought I saw an oar—somethin’
that looked like it.”

“Where? In what direction?”

“ Out thar to the right—your larbo’rd. Had-
n’t ye better swim that may and see?”

Inspired by hope, I struck off and swam on,
guided by his voice.

After going a good way, I reached the Object
seen.

It was not a. boat’s oar, but a strip of brown
seaweed that came clinging across my breast.

I turned to go back. The thought struck me
that it was a trick—a rusc to get rid of me. I
swam toward him with a half-forum deter-
mination to contest with him possession Of the
wreck.

I was young and strong. He, too, was strong,
though Older. He was of herculean frame,
far tougl‘er and more sinewy than I; more-
over, he was armed with a deadly Weapon, and
had given proof of the skill with which he
could wield it. The chances would be against
me.

On the other side, there was dealt—death by
drowning; slow it might be, but certain. I felt
as it‘ I should prefer meeting it in some quicker
way. even by a desperarc struggle, such as I
had half determined upon.

I could swim much faster than he was going,
and was soon close up to him again.

On coming near, I saw that; his eyes were
fixed upon hie—reading my features. He
seemed to have a suspicion of what was passing
within me. .

“ I warn you again,” he said, “ not to come
near me. If you intend attempting it, make

our peace with God. As sure as you do so,

’il run you through with the lance. Remem-
ber Bill!"

It was clear that he could. and would have
done so; and I contented myself with onco more
swimming in his wake, maintaining a safe dis—
tance between us.

Once again the dark thought came over me.
Was I to sink and drown while a chance of life
was still possible? The fragment of wrcck
would float one of us—might sustain one till
something came in sight—the ship or the signal.
What right had he to it more than I? Besides,
he was older, had seen more of life, and longer
enjoyed it. For me to be thus out off in my
early days, in the very prime Of my man-
hoodl Oh! life at this crisis seemed sweet, and
fearful the religcrion that. I was to lose it. With
the cold waves around me,l shivered at- the

~ terrors Of (bath!

And then my thoughts chung-d Perhaps,
after all, it would be boner to «lie at once.

Even could [wrest the piece of timber from
him, ,wbar their! To rc menu (I but blight
chancaof being szivnl by Hunt. It might um
and in dumb, slow and lingering. Death, too,
with sin upon my SOlll—‘llll‘.ltlllll9 of n cruel
murder! for-I knew he was but an indifferent
swimmer, and loft lo himself must soon sink be-
Death the waves. , _ ,

My spirit. sl crowd to puiily itself by these last
reflections, and 1 determined to L ave him un-
molested. .

I now felt as if I could meet. my fate with a
degree of resignation. I knew that the end was
near, for I was fast becoming enteeb‘cd.

1 could not keep afloat much longer.

Should I suspend my stroke, and at once.
an end to the agony? It was horrible to
myself dying, as it were. by inchesi
I had halfrcsolved on let-ting go my hold upon
life. It; was but to c.—use swimming, nril then
all would be over. But irrcsolutkw was upon
me, a sort. of stupor, under which l continued
the mechanical action of my arms.

I wassturtled erm it In once moi-v healing
the vrice of the mate. He spoke as it he had
conceived a sudden $11291th l‘or nw. as if
touched by my situation. Perhaps be, fun. was
thinking as I-nf the utter hopclcésncss Ol‘ cs-
cape, and the sin of s-rlfishucss he was himself
committing.

He had pronounced my name.

I turned my eyes (on ard himon hoax-inc it,

“Swear to me!” said he: “swear bybyour
hope of Heaven that you will get off the bit of
boat wheneVerI ask you to do so: and I will
swim awhile and let you have a rest. There‘s
just achauce that we may loll] be saved. The
Wind‘s gone down again. and we. may come in
sight either 0’ the slip 4r llI'J whale. 'Will you
swear  i ask your." 7

put
feel

 

I ltis not nrc=ssary to say that I c'osed will]
his generous (ffvi‘. Had be r- quire} it at that
moment, I slioufd have ceased Slllklllg and per-
mitted my Body to go to the bottom. Any sac-
riliw he might have asked. '

He slippe-l ( If into the water and I took his
place on the raft. Under mv llglllel‘ weight it
rose to the surface, but I cruld tell it would not
have sustained both. He even intrusled me
with the lance to paddle it along, for fri in his
observation of the son he believed we were go-
ing in the direction of the ship. He had no 1 sad
to fear me now. I would have pierced my cum
breast sooner-than his.

In a short time we again changed places. and
again each took a Spell at swimming while the
other rested.

I’Vas it that, God rewarded us for our mutual
forgiveness? Surely it was His hand that aided
us tor thus endeavoring to aid one another! I
thought so then, and shall continue the'thought.
I thought so as, sitting aslride that tiny frag-
ment of a broken boat, I caught s ght of a strip
of red rag fluttering from a thinstick, just seen
above the combing of a swell. .

“ We are seven l" Icried, dropping off into
the sea and calling to my pi‘cservu' to take my
place: " we are close to the deal whale. Sre‘
vonder is the flag; mount up here-and keep
\‘nnl‘ m. as upon it. Thank Heavw! we are
saved.” ,

'I'cu minutes” more paddling of our frail craft
——ren minutes’ swimming by its side—and we
left it neglected in the water. to drift whither—
soevm‘ the winds and Waves might carry it. We
had obtained a sure, trustworthy support on
the carcass of the cachalot.

The whale, one of the largest, lay high. We
had boarded it between the flakes that rested
on the surface of the water. Worn out with
the toil of our protracted struggle, we had
fallen exhausted on the “small,” and lay for
some time Without exchanging speech.

()1) recovering breath and strength, we scram~
bled up the “ ridge,” and reached the protuber-
ance out of which stood the lance carrying the
signal. Judge our surprise when. on looking
over it, we Siw three human bodies stretched
along the lack of the whale near to the neck-
hunch. We recognized them as our late com-
panions in the boat. Were they dead or asleep?
Neither. Like ourselves, they had dropped
down exhausted, having swum all the way frnm
the scene of our disaster. They had reached
the carcass but a short time before us.

Our shout of surprise startled them, and they
were instantly on their feet exchanging con-
gratulations. “ Wlure was Bill?"

I glanced toward the mate. I saw that he
was looking fur‘ivc-ly at me. There was some-
thing in h 5 eye that said, “Be silent.” The
question remained unansw ered.

The others had been more fortunate than we,
that is, in the direction they had taken. They
had szruck Off together, and being all first-rate
swimmers, had kept side by side. Chance had
carried them right toward the whale, and hav—
ing seen the flag soon afler starting, they had
kept on toward it. The mate had made a mis-
take and gone some way in the opposite direc—
tion. He was changing his course when I came
up with him.

We were now rogelher again, the boat’s crew
—the steel-er alone missing. Our congratula—
tions were lut brief, and soon ceased to be
spoken.

Soon our despondence came back as we began
to reullzo our Situation.

We had obtained only a temporary respite.
We had been saved from drowning but to die a
far more fearful death.

Tnere was no ship in sight—mot so much as a
spur, and we were in the middle of the wide,
waylcss ocean. Our comrades in the Whaler
might search for us, and search in vain. Even
a ship at short distances can be seen only in the
clearest weather, and we were but a speck that
might escape the most carefullydirected tele-
sco e.

Opur apprehensions became keen as ever—
keener and keener us the hours passed, and our
eyes swept the sea, unrewarded by the sight of
sail. We thought no longer of our lost com-
rade. We were thinking too much of ourselves,
and the still more fearful fate that seemed in
store for us.

We suffered, too, in body as in spirit. The
squalls had passed, leaving the sea under a
heavy svs ell But the breeze had also died
away, and the sun glared down upon the
glasscd surface with a fervor that drew the per—
SpiratiOu from every pore of our skins.

We thirsted almost to choking. Hungry we
were, and might have thought of that Christ-
mas dinner on board the ship. By this time our
shipmates would be eating it, and we not shar—
ing in the cheer. But We thought not of such
things. Our minds were too much occupied
with the terror that surrounded us—with doubts
and dark fears for the future before us.

Though standing upon a mountain ‘of meat,
we did not deign to partake Of it, and on that
Christmas Day we went to [(hb’lbt our dinner!

Perhaps on the morrow we should be less
daint .

We. thought so when it came, and the sun
rose over the sea, shining only on ourselves.

Still no ship in sight—nothing but the blue sky
above, and the glistening water around 113.

Still worse, it was dead calm: and we knew
that the ship could not come near us, even if
they knew the direction! '

The thought was maddening. So, too, our
thirst. now become intolerable. The very sight
of that shining sky, and the liquid we dared not
drink, only maddened us the more. Only one
in such a situation cm truly realize what must
have born the sufferings of Tantalus. ‘

Twelve, o’clock noon, and we had reach 'd the
acme of our agony. Our thirst could not be
greater, at least, not more keenly felt.

Hunger we. knew no more. lVe had break-
fasted upon blubbcr.

We could dine and sup upon it. We could do
this evlrry day for a long time, till we should
feed upon C‘ll‘l‘lOn.

But we knew it would not come to that.
Thirst would not allow it. Death by this would
spare us the foul repast.

Another day, and another night. Oh, God!
will it never end?

How often might be heard such exclamations
among us?

And curses, too, began to be heard—directed
to the so, the sky, and the birds, whose broad
white wings often cheated us with the sem-
blance of a sail.

Twice had the word been shouted aloud, and
twice had the tongue been cursed that gave
speech to the dclusive exclamation.

But flu-re camea third hail- from the lips of
Lige (.‘olfln—and this time w ith a sail in sight.
A breeze had sprung up and there was a vessel
bearing down upon us! .

We We‘l'e at first slow to believe it, loth to be
again cheated by the wing of a gull; and we
stood with straining eycs~the orbs almost out
of their sockets. ‘

It is a sail: our own ship!
the sight!

All five of us fell
prayed!

Our ngoiiy was over—the terrible times had
passed. We saw that the ship had discovered
the Signal flag, and was heading straight toward

God be praised for

upon our knees and

lb.
At a cable’s length she lay-to.

We saw the boats lowered—all three of them
coming for us and for the cuchalot.

We staggered into the first that struck bow
against the carcass, and were roh'ed direct to
the ship.

” W here is Billé” was the question asked by
the captain. as we stood upon the quarter‘dock.

"Druu'n'rl.’” was the answer given in the
deep voite of Elijah Collin.

Once more I glanced in the face of the first
mate. Dime more I saw in his eye something
that said, “B: silent.”

While he lived I did not betray him. He is
dead, now. and the truth can no longer harm
him. He was drowned upon his next cruise,
before, tarelVe months had expired, before the
amuwrmrv of that dread day when we spent
our L'uuls'rnAs ()N A WHALE.

 

 

 

WOMAN’S HATE.

"' BY FRANK M. IMBRIE.

 

You are thinking of the heart you won?
(a‘o, remorse has not yet died I) ‘

What muttered all its pristine wealth!
"l‘was worthless—cast addel

What bliss the giving lent to Inc—-
Oh, was it wholly just

To make the soul’s ilntarnished gem
A toy, for broken trust? ‘

Your peniten c has come too (ale—

A, woman‘s (are is turned to—hatel

“ I was too beautiful," you said;
Was [blind to mv charms?
What matched the fairness of my brow?
’ My snowy neck and arms? *
What rivalcd eyes, whose darkest hue
- , Deepened with love‘s grand power?
Naught but the blackness of the nous
l You pie lged that l'utcd hour.
All, tht— ii my heart with love was sate—~
But woman’s love has turned to [um

’11:: true, I (hooped—Could childish mtg. t
Cope. with man’s muster-power?

If I had then my v omiw -.v rem/Ill
You would have rucd Lllr' hour!

The iron entered, (is r and strong,
Searing my tender cart :—

"I‘was Wt'll -‘li- u onian’s lot to urn/w,
Hen only feel the s m.ll‘i.

But pray, is it an envious fate,

\thn Woman’s love has turned to hale?

Ay! grove at my foot; who cares?—
”I‘is my turn now to scorn ,

Yes. I rewon your lovo, to blight,
As you did mi» 4, that morn:

H p61”: 7- you 1' Who laid the snare
In which my feet once sto pp- (1?

Hope for my soul. whose (ll epest chords
B keen Terence are sva' ?

N0. Still, ’tls the cruelest iov clato

To burn with woman’s d(dt’l1¢88 hate.

 

 

Mame Jim,
The Black Sheep of Bismarck.

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.,
AUTHOR OF “NOR’ WEST NICK,” “KING OF THE
RUSTLERS,” ETC.

CHAPTER Xi.
MONTE JIM AS A MORAL EXHIBITOR.

THERE was death in the glowing black orbs
of the King of Bismarck as he lifted them to
the face of his rival, with a surly, wolflsh snarl
in his tones as he muttered:

“ Are you satisfied now, Monté Jim?”

“I’d be a hog if I wasn’t,” laughed the suc-
cessful gambler, still keeping on his guard, how—
ever. “I had an idea I could catch the turn,
and as you see, my theory was correct. Pay
your debts, old fellow!”

“ I always pay them—and I’ll settle with you,
be sure of that, Monté Jim!" grated Curly
Kaine, viciously. ’ - ‘

“ There’s prussic acid and aquafortis in your
tones, old boy, but I, reckon there's drug store
enough about me to stand the blast for a time.
Pay the gold first, then we can Settle up our lit—
tle lead or steel account after your on liking.”

 

 

“ I’ll not let it slip your mind, Mouté, rest as»

sured of that,” said Curly Kaine, with a white,
sickly smile, as his. practiced fingers quickly
counted over the sum of cash which his bank
contained, and pushed it partly across the table.

“ Your stake was ten thousand. It called for
four times its face, making forty thousand dol-
lars. Am I correct?”

‘ “ Straight as a string, old fellow.”

“ Here is twenty-one thousand. four hundred
and sixtyslive dollars in cash, as part payment—”

“ Bank bu’sted and you going into bankruptcy,
eh?” sneered Monté im, swiftly cutting his de-
liberate speech short. “ at to compound for
fifty cents on the dollar, I suppose?”

“ Don’t squeal before ou‘rc hurt, Mouté,”
was the cool retort. “ nevu‘ yet failed to
square accounts with my customers, and rather
than fall short with you, I’d coin every drop of
my heart‘s blood into pennies, and pawn my
son] for the balance!”

For one instant the crust was broken, giving
a glimpse of the burning lava beneath. Hatred
the most intense fairly transformed that hand-
some countenance into the visage of a veritable
demon; but Monté Jim never flinched, never
took his mocking gaze from his adversary, feel-
ing confident that his allies could be trusted to
guard his rear against the “ heelers ” of Curly
Kaine.

“ In other words, perform impossibilities!”
laughed Monté Jim. “ For heart you never had,
and that which serves you as a soul, was mort-
gaged to Satan in the hour of your birth!

“ But a truce to compliments. Do you offer
thisvspmfis full payment of my claim against
you.

“Only as far as it goes,” quietly responded
the gambler, taking a check-book from his
pocket and using a stylographic pen to fill in
the blanks as he spoke. “ I don’t want it
whispered over town that I killed you to get
rid of paying a debt contracted over the papers.
I didn’t expect such a run on the bank this
evening, or I would have been better prepared
to meet it. As it is, I must ask you to accept
my check for the balance due. If you have any
doubts concerning it, possibly Mr. Morgan will
be kind enough to assure you that I have in his
hands ample funds to meet your demands.”

“ It‘s good as new wheat!” nodded the banker
named.

Curly Kaine dropped the check upon the pile
of gold and bank-notes, pushing them across to
the winner, adding:

“ Now are you satisfied, Monté Jim?”

“ As far as my winnings go—yes.”

“ Count it over, and be sure you’re satisfied.”

“ I prefer taking your word for it, just at
present, my dear fellow,” laughed the dashing
sport, whose hands still clasped the heavy-cal—
ibered derringers. ready for instant use.

“ Very well. Now I demand my turn!”

“All right, my covey! You shall have vour
wish—satisfaction till you can’t rest!” coolly
retorted the s ort.

" l’m some irty-eight thousand dollars ahead
of the game on this evening’s play-call it that,
an how. I’m open to stake it all, double or
quits, that [can prove you a barefaced swindler
and common cheat, right here and now! If
you’re the clean white article, you’ll jump at
the chance to get your money back, to say noth-
ing of showmg me up to these gentlemen as a
liar and calumniatorl Money talks, old man 1”

Sharp and stern rung out the voice of Monté
Jim, each word striking its mark with the di-
rectness and force of a bullet. Curly Kaine
turned ghastly white at the bold defiance and
his lauds mechanically moved to cover the deal-
in - ox.

g‘ Fin _ers 011', your royal highnessl” cried
Monte im, his blue eyes glittering like those of
a serpent about to strike. “M money is on
the board, and I reckon it is a us all you’ll
care to play for, this bout. Let the papers rest
until we have decided this little point. Double
or quits that you are a thick—that you have
been dealing a skin game all this eveningl Do
you take the bet?” .

For a brief space there came no reply. Curly
Kaine, his eyes turning red, his face that of a
wild beast driven to a corner from whence ‘es-
cape seems impossible, glared around the room.
He saw his “ healers,” oark-browod und- sullen;
but he saw, too, that Monté J im’svgang was on
the alert, and sostationed that any movement
on the part of his men could be instantly check-
mated. v . .

Nor was there a gleam of hope to be extract-
ed from the dance group of spectators. A
charge of foul murder would have been less
dangerous to him, under the circumstances.
That, even if proved, would show him a sinner
against only a single man; a charge of foul-
(lealing arrayed the entire community against
high, turning former friends into bitter ene-
mies. so long as the accusation remained unre-
futed. _

His brain was in a whirl, and his thoughts LE0
confused that he was wholly at a loss what
course to pursue. Yet he saw that his hesita—

tion, brief though it had been, was turning the
feelings of the crowd still more thoroughly
against him, and in his utter desperation he
snarled:

" You can make a mighty bold front, because
you know that I am unable to cover your nio-
ney. The bank is broken-5’

A col ', metallic laugh cut him short, as
Monté Jim picked up his winnings and stuffed
them into his pockets.

“ All right, your majesty. I never crowd a

bet when ,a man shows he lacks the sand to
meet it. But all the same, I’m bound to prom
my claim of foul dealing. 7 ‘ '
l “ If I do prove it, I’ll leave your punishment
in the hands of these gentlemen, for you have
done them more harm than you have me, so
far as wealth goes. If I fail—if you come out
of the fire as refined gold—then you can pro—
nounce sentence against me for my error, and
I’ll never lift a finger to prevent your putting
it into 4 xecution.

" Will some honest man kindly consent to
r-ount those cards which Curly Kaine used in
dealing last!”

The cornerld gambler showed his teeth in a
savage snarl.

“ Whoever dares to take a band in this game
must selll" with me! I’ll not be insults d with
impnr- tyl”

“ me here, Mr. Kuine,”suid Morgan, speak
ing firmly as be pressed closer to the table.
“You’re onlv :; akmg a bad matter were by
uttering such threats. I, for one, do not be—
llP'e the charge. brought. against you; but it
has been brought. and must be settled in ON
way or the other, for your own sake. If it is
slurred oVer now, one half the town will 91
wavs believe vmi guilty of running a skin
game, and your business will suffer. You can
trust me, and I offer to count those cards.”

“That’s not the point,” muttered Curly
Kaine. “That cardvcheat caught the turn, if
he didn’t ‘snake’my tools to make all sure,
and now tries to COVer his tracks by bringing
this dirty charge against me. I appeal to the
crowd—which of us has got the cleanest record
as s uaro men?"

“ oO thin, old fellow,” laughed Monté Jim,
“ and you can’t turn the tide by a dam of sand
like that. As to your first insinuation, I did
catch the turn as you put it up, and instead of
your skinning me, 1 took your hide.

“While I was busy talking with Mr. Pen-
nington, you were stocking the cards. That
was all right. If the players are green enough
to permit you to take that advantage, in addi-
tion to the regular odds in favor of the dealer,
they alone are to blame. I saw you putting up
the turn. It was diamond cut diamond, and I
got the bulge on you. Once more, I say that
was all right. If you’ve done no worse than
stOck the cards, putting up splits and regular
tricks of that sort, I‘ll own up that I’m a fool,
and restore the money I won by catching the
turn.

“All tricks Of that sort go, if they are. per-
formed above- board, and those on the opposite
side are simple enough to permit such doings;
but you blame no leave or license to wring in the
odd card on them!” ‘

“You lie in yOur throat if you dare even
hint such a thing!" snarled Curly Kaine, his
blazing eyes fixed upon his adversary, ready to
endeavor to dodge the shot Which he felt posi-
tive this‘defiunce Would call forth, hoping to
escape with at least life sufficient to kill his foe
before dying himself." ‘

But Monté Jim did not fall into the snare, as
expected. Judging from himself, he had little
difliculty in divining the forlorn hope of the
penned-up gambler, andonly smiled cynically
at the desperate subterfuge.

“ l’d sink a mineral shaft in your carcass for
that, only I nrefr-r to carry out my original
plan, Curly Kaine,” he said, calmly, still hold
ing the gambler wholly at his mercy. “ Which
one of us is the liur will be proven soon enough.”

" Why out any more time to waste!“ impu
tiently demanded ‘Morgan, the banker. “In
those cards lies the truth or falsity of your
charge against Mr. Kaine. It is a disreputable
affair from beginning to end, and I am ashamed
of myself for having become mixed up in it at
all, through my natural impetuosity. lut,
since I have entered it, I‘m ready to put- it
through .’ ithout unneCessary delay.

“I belieVe. l’ni toll-niny well known in this
town. If any stain rests on my record, as a
square man and friend to theright, it has never
been brought up against me.”

“That every man knows!" cried an enthusi-
astic voice from some place in the crowd.

“ You‘re mighty right!” echoed unolln-r.
“ Let the Old gent sift the business, un’ then we
all ’11 know it’s on the squur’, without any lioo<
doo fixiu’s.”

“I, for one, am more than satisfied to have
you act as referee between us,” frankly uttered
Monté Jim. “But- first, I beg the privilege of
partly explaining my reasons for exposing this
fellow, and the cause I have for Swearing to
drive him out of Bismarck for good and all.

“There has been little love lost be! wcon
us, as you all are aware, since we set up in
business here; but that was only the natural
rivalry existing between two men of the same
profession-if skinning ‘angels’ can be called
such. There was room and business cncugh for
us both, and doubtless we would have pulled
along without coming in actual collision. only
for a little circumstance which transpired on
the in-train, two evenings ago. -

“ I happened to catch Curl y Kaine insulting
a lady passenger, and, by getting the drop, I
obliged him to apologize to her, and. then leave
the coach. He swore to get even a ilh me, and
it is not his fault that he has not yct made his
threats good, for he lost little time in trying to
get in his work. ‘ ‘

“ Twice, since that time. be has had my life
attempted, but my good luck stuck by me, and
I got off clear. From the first I suspected to
whom I owed these attentions, but as I had no
positive proof, I lay low and waited for the next
deal. And I caught the turn, tool

“ The second attempt was made, and I man-
aged to down the fellow without hurting him
much, or raismg a row to call attention, from
outsiders. I questioned the rascal closely, and
by offering him his life. managed to extract the
truth from his lips. He is ready to swear that
Curly Kaine offered him five hundred dollars to
do for me.” ‘

“Another infernal lie!” rated the gambler,
with difliculty refraining from daring certain
death and leaping at the throat of his rival.
“ If he swears that, it’s because your money has
bought him, body and soul 2”

“ Let _it go at that, then,” coolly retorted
Monté J im. “ Fortunately I don’t- ret uire his
servrces any longer, for, to be frank, ’d hesi-
tate about trusting the fellow on oath, myeelfw
he has associated so long with Curly Kaine l”

“ Talk enough,” impatiently interposed Mor-

gan. “ We have nothing to do with our out-
sxde quarrel. ' You have charged r. Kaine
With playing a brace on his customers. That is

uite sufficient for the present. Unless Mr.
aine objects, I Will count. the cards and see if
they are correct._" ~ - ‘

A ghastly smile played on the face of the
gambler. - o
.“ It’s little  have to say in this case, it ap-
pears. That llar has me lined. You are all up

satisfaction I can get from this crowd. ‘ G on

I o o
if'ypu IlkP; but mark my words, for they mean,
busmess, chuck—up!
“ If I am not murdered this night, I’ll call you
one and all to a. bitter account for these foul in~
stilts! I’ll kill each and every rascal who takes
a hand in this game! Now, Mr. Morgan ro-
ceed. if you think you can stand the rocket!”
Sternly composed, Morgan counted the curds

and pronounced them correct in number, so fai-
as‘dealt. Snarling, Curly cried:

Now arp you satisfied, Monté J ilh—curse
your heart?"

“ Not- quite, my line follow.
lease see haw many more cards remain in the
ox. If they don’t count up to fil‘twthree, then
Curly Raine may have me for a target 1"

Mr. Morgan,

 

Morgan reached for the box, but with a start»

 

 

 

 

ling crash, the four chandeliers fell from the
ceiling—a pistol-shot rung out—a wild yell fol-
lowed the explosion, as of a man in mortal
agony —-and cunfusién the most intense reigned
throughout the darkened apartment] ‘

CHAPI‘ER. XII.
“ PROF. KING SMITH, or manna."

THAT some evening was dent-inedi'to prove
momentous to at least one other‘rharwtor in
whose fate we are titer-chumnnd nearlym pos—
sible at the same-time that Alva Pennington and
Frank Lisle entered the Clipper Shades, a
“away-headed, dirtylrheekul boy who oflim-
ated as general factotum at the hotelwnere the
Penningtcns were stopping, stood mumbling in
the open dam of Medea's chamber: 9'" l

“A gent down in the pearlor, mum, which
he axon for to Bee ye, mum. of you’d be so kind
as to cOme down fer a Wee, mum.”

Medea was perplexed by this peculiarly do—
livered mrs-age and stood gazing at the abushcd
lad without fully comprehending his moaning.
The boy slightly rai~ed one elbow, as though to
ward riff a blow as she advanced a. step, but it
was apurely mechanical gesture, born of a sad
o-Xperleuce. ,

“Them‘s jest what he s"ld for me to my,
mum, au’ ’talu’t my faultcf it don’t hit yo right
wllur V, a live. be it, now?”

“ You are certain you have not mado a mis—
take in the number of the room? You are posh
itive I am the person asked for!”

A broad grin cracked the dirtcrust, and the
reply come more promptly, more distinct»:

“’Decd, mum. an’ how could ll The gent
mod for to son the ledrlv who boarded here, nu"
I reckon it’d puzzle u Philadelpby lawyer fer to
find ary other then jest you, mum. Wimuien
is must powerful skeerce in those yer diggin‘s—
most powerful skeerce—an’ divil a lie in that,
axin’ par-din, mum.”

“Did be send no card—did he give you his
name?”

" Never a name, mum, onloss it was prented
onto the too 0’ his boot, an’ I dodged that aforn
it could ketcli me," grinned the mcssenger. “ Ef
it’s keerds you want, mum, I kin fetch rip a
dl ck in a minnit—an’ it shain’t cost ye a cent,
ef I hev to steal ’e‘m, mum!"

With unusual alacrity for him, the ragged
imp was about to speed away to supply this
fancied want, when Medea restrained him by a.
gesture, then decided:

“Wait a moment, and you may show me
down-stairs. You are certain the gentleman
did not in enlion his name? You don’t know
who he is?”

The youngster shook his head until the tan-
glcd locks of tow-colored hair fell over his eyes.

With a short, faint laugh, Medea Penninglou
conquered her nervousness, and closing the door
behind her, followed her impish guide down the
steep, narrow flight of stairs to tie room on the
ground floor which was dignified with the name
of parlor, only to be deserted by the lad when
he jerked his head toward the Closed door, say—
ing as he scuttled OE: ‘

“Thar she be, in yonder, mum—the boss is
yelpin’ for me. an’ thur’ll be a holy picnic of I
keep him wait-in’.”

Medea. paused in that dimly—ll ,htcd passage,
half-inclined to retreat to her room and thus
avoid the interview so queerly solicited.

Her first thought had been that her visitor
was Will Rice, whom she had not met or heard
of since their hasty pa rtiug at the depot, eight
and-forty hours ago; but she had hardly left
her room before this idea was dismissed. Suron
he would have acted with a little more regard
for the proprieties~would have sent up his card,
or his name, at. least? And yet, if not Will Rico,
who could it be? What gentleman could pos-
sibly be seeking an interview with liei'-~linlms~--

There rimsc before ln‘r the. vision of utull,
graceful figure, a strong, handsome [mm from
which boomed «yes of tho (lecpcst blue, soft mud
lustrous as those of a woman, yot llllul with .‘l
magnetic power whose pcculiul‘ inlluuuco ullc
had not yet been able to entirely col «pr: 1'; tlm
face, figure, and eyes of tho mun who lmd callml
himself Mouté Jim, the Black Sheep of lim-
murckl

Obeying the impulse which so suihlonly scizlzd
her, Medea Pennington glided forwurd and
turning the knob, pushrfl wide the door and
crossed the throslmld»~to discovm‘ the next in
startit that neizhcr of her suspicions Were cor»-
rec .

It was a perfect stranger who turned swiftly
from the little mirror in which he seemed to
have been admiring lllx own reflection, us the
door opened, snatching olf his silk hat and bo'.» .
mg low in evident confusion at having been
caught in this N missus like occupation.

“Most happy, Mins- I’liiniuglon—ullow m: l"
he mumbled, HIHIObt stumbling at full length in
his COHIUSHI haste to ollcr the young lndv u.
chair. “So Vi-ry kind of you—~l hardly new:
hope you would grant me an interview.”

His courtesy was acknowledged by :1 Cold low,
but the young lady made no rfl‘cr to acct-gt
the proffered convenience.

“ There must be some mistakc—"

“ Not if yt-urnumc is Mizs Medea Funnier»
ton, (f Chicago,” was the swift interruption.
“ That is your name?"

Salli colder was her how. This [ll-I'SOH inu—
presssed her most disugreeably. l‘ossiblv be
cause she had expected to behold ouo dzll‘ercit
in almost every respect.

And yet, the strangcr's got up was fairly
gorgeous, after a curtain fashion. His rail-er
pudgy person was tightly incloscd in a. Hill. ul’
black broadcloth, plainly intended for a uni:

 

considerably taller and lcs-s chunky. slum l.'-".

stunlpy bands were almost. hidden from si lit
by the cull’s, and tho (and: of his llmvwm l'w.‘
in {folds over his brilliantlyp: lin'hcd ho: . ,1.
while the coat was strained almost- to tour-mi
in order to make it moot across his chest. ll 34
silk hat was painfully smooth and shiny. W.) rt
linen was visible to the eye shone like polisrl. ll
ivory. A gaudy brilliant shone in his slur-3'.
while his short lingers glittcred with rings, out
a. huge bunch of souls dangled from his IN".
His hair was CUl'lid and glistencd with oil. I: 3
round, beerdloss, ruddy face glowed us Hum: h
it had been soupcd and dry- polilicd for the 4 o.
caswn.

The only dull'poiut about him was his time
pig-pyes, Of a pale, water blue color.

. “ I‘hen there is no mistalre,” he added, wit it n
sigh—almost u grun'-——of evident relief.

“ You are a perfect stranger to me, sir,” n «4
bar cold comment. “I eitpmlaod to we: l .1
friend, or [should not have come at all. Y; n
can have no buslncsls with me thut cannot. in-
moro properly transacted bv my cousin Mr.
Pennington.” ' ‘ ' ‘ ’

fowtiéigagqinfishe wapnllout leaving l'ht' r.» ‘m
w on c it e mun instil ' c u‘ - ~ ‘1
the words: _ 5 he lad brrn Lil

" It's‘ahout Lloyd Pennington, ma‘amm“

f‘ What do you know of him? ’ Mellon sharp'v
cried, turning so abruptly that the man still it‘ll
lmck,catchm‘g his heel on a fold of his irons! ra
almost tripping himself up. I '

*“ Dear me, Miss" Pennington, you almost. like
my breath away! You do. indeed 1” ho a”!ch
dropping his hat and mukinga Vuln ’11- hr: tr;
catch‘ it, but duly succeeding in knocking it to
the further corner of the room. "“MY nerves
are so delicate—~flie increst trillrl-cu. mplcleh lip
set: uric. kit does, indeed! ’ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ' " '

us y, spasmodic laugh mime 'ur 'lir:

from his fat .neck. His slumpy hand:a ruin-3
together. Ills fish y eyes scented about to start:
from their sockets. 'l‘nen,‘v~ith’ a ho’boirg bow
Begum"! and rushed intothc erncr after big
a - ' ' - ‘ I

But instead of immediately sn curing it be
drew a, small bottle and u Wilfrid-t)?!" rmm’ his
__cl_rel., pouring a few drops of some dark
iquld from one into the utter. swallowed mp
dose, caught lip lvi~ but as the in ticlcs vuplslia-r‘
then turned mm m ‘ louurd Ill dcu unlil i:
and smirking prluusely. , ' "

_“ I most humbly beg your pardon, Mi»: l‘
nmgton. but I really could not livlp it! lik- 
heart- l‘m all heart. my most intinmlm {vi-4M.
suy. 'l‘hedcust shock RI‘IS it. iumpium m, .l, ,4
down so Violently that l haw t}. k. v... v “WI, ,,
shut for fear it should Fairly imp  méjup 5,:
shock some one else. Nothing lnzl marl“: suit-43":

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 
   
  
 
  

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drills saved inc this iiinz‘. I’m terribly n~:‘.-i::in
ed, but H‘.il"\ i couldn’t. help if. I beg your
pardon, l‘in ::'.l:'I-—~ -

In allllili‘flli'ub Mullen stircli at the :; fill-L"!
creature, rutliur more than llillf Inclined if)
deem rim a lunatic, us he rcrvously btippcti
about before her. Nor was she less astonisned

at the sulrlvn uni! (:IlIllpli‘ll’, change “hicu'

came over him as he llhidl'm‘l the lust Sentence.

Ark tllouzb by magic, all II'IP'S of Iltll'Vi'US‘
noes vuiiis led. His qiiv ring niciuhcis bet-nine
still, his crimson countenance resumed i s reor—
m'il color. and his voice sounded char and (lis-
tinct. From a dancing dcrvish, he: become ll
calm, suave gentleman, so far as outward stem-
ing w cut, at least.

" I run an unfortunate man, Miss Penning-
ton,” he said, his tones grave, his round couri-
tcnmico taking on an earnest look. “ I am the
victim of a most peculiar and mysterious mal-
ady, liable to be taken as you unluckily wit-
nessed just now, at any hour of the day. It
comes over me with the rapidity of the light-
ning‘s stroke. giving no warning by which it
can be foretold. It is a disease beyond the arts
of physicians to cure, though I carry an allevia-
tivo in this little vial.”

“No apology is necessary, sir,” said Medea,
coldly, stilluuable to control the strange renug-
nance with which this man had inspired her
from the first, though she felt a vague pity for
one so strangely afflicted.

“ Your pardon, once more. Miss Pennington,”
wastheswiftresponse,while the other expression
gave way to one of whimsical good-humor. " It
is not an agreeable task, this confessing one’s mis-
fortunes to a fair younglady, but better so than
to rest under the degrading suspicion of drunk-
ennes3' and my friends solemnly assure me that
when am suffering from one of my spells,
they could almost take their oath that I am
drunk——thev do, on my sacred Word of honor!
Drunk, ma’am—and me the deadlv, uncompro-
mising enemy of all intoxicating liquor, ma’am!
Me DRUNK! when I'd rather die once a day,
regular, I'm a. thousand ages, than to even small,
of whisky!”

“ I do not doubt yrur assurance in the least,
sir. th you mentioned a name a moment ago,
that——

“Which reminds me,”he hastily muttered,
opening his tiglilly~fitting coat and fishing forth
a. card case from his vest pocket—not without a
gOod deal of straining and contortions. how-
ever. “ Rather embarrassing. this self-intro
duction I find, but that little imp in rags and
dirt ran away before! could do so much as give
him my card. Allow me, ma‘am!”

Medea acceptel the proffered bit of paste—
boord on which was written, in a round, school-
boy band, the legend:

“ PROF. KING SMITH, of Mandan.”

“My name, ma’am,” said the professor, bow-
ing rapidly, rubbing his stumpy hands to-
gether. “And your humble servant to com-
mand, ma’ani.”

Sill] perplexed, Medea glanced from the card
to the man.

" I hardly understand h0w you could know
anything of my connection with my—With the
owner of the name you recently mentioned. I
never met you—never heard of you before.”

“ The loss is mine, ma’am,” with another low
how, but the professor straightened up again
and his manner uhderent another sudden
change.

From obscquious politeness, he became blunt
and short—speaking, the words drOpping from
his lips almost like bullets.

“I‘m a man of business, ma’am. 1 was on
the train which brought you to Bidnarck. Isaw
that ungodly bully, Curly Kaine, the King of
Bismarck. as he bonsrmgly calls himself, plume.
culing you, and I was just hastening to your
defense. when one of those in—l should say un—
fortunate spells ovei'powcicd me.

“ \Vnen l recovered. you were talking with a,
certain person who is known here as Monte.
James. Without intending to listen to a pri—
vate conversation—if such it may be t-rmed,
taking place in a publiccoach—I overheard you
asking him about a certain person called Lloyd
Pennington—~”

“Do you know any person by that name?”
asked Medea.

“ I did, once, long years a 0.”

“And now‘l Is he still living?
be dead?"

“ Still living-worse. luck!" was the sharp re-
s onse!

“ May I ask what you mean by that ejacula-
tion, sir?’

The flabby lips parted as though to utter a.
hasty reply to this rather imperious demand;
but then they closed again without a sound es~
caping their screwed-up portals. while the rosy
face grew flaming red and the pig eyes pro—
truded more than ordinary. Professor King
Smith hastily snatched out a handkerchief and
clasping bouh bands OVer his pug nosc, blew a
blast that was almost loud enough to rouse the
seven sleepers. then nodded rapidly as he re
turned the useful article to his tail pocket, an
oily chuckle gurgling up in his throat.

“ Fooled it that time, any h0w! Beg pardon,
ma’am, but I felt as though one of my unfor-
tunate attacks was coming on, and I resolved
to smother it in its birth, if it blew my head off!

“ Now to business once more. You were
pleased to ask 3"

“ What you meant by adding the words
‘worse luck’ to your declaration that Lloyd
Pennington still lived r”

“ I am bound to answer, of course, but first,
one word: if this man is a particular friend of
yours, Miss Pennington—if he is or was once
dear to your heart—the only answer I can gIVe,
will shock vou dreadfully.” '

Medea turned a trifle paler, impressed even
against her will, by the grave earnestness With
which these words were spoken; but her weak-
ness was of brief duration, and her Voice rung
out clear and steady when she spoke again:

“ If it is the truth, I can bear the worst. You
have said too much not to be more explicit. I
have a right to hear all—yet I ask it of you as a
favor; what have you to tell me about the man
I once knew as Lloyd Pennington?’

“ May I ask your object in seeking this man?”

“You may not,” was the firm response. “I
did not seek this interview. You came here of
your own accord, and when I was aboutto leave
you. you called me back by pronouncing that
name. You must have come with the intention
of telling me something concerning him. Now
you must do so.”

“ I will‘” was the sharp, bitter response. “ I
said worse luck, because I hate him for the ter-
rible wrong he once done my only sister—be-
cause] could wring his heart dry of its best
blood, drop by drop, if I only had him in my
power!” .

Seeming to choke with the intensrty of his

assion, he caught couvulsively at his throat.

hen be gratingly added: .

“ Only for her, I would have killed him like a.
mad-dog!"

“Yet you come here and ask me to be-
lieve all you may Say against him—you, who
hate him so intensely that the mere mention of
his name almrfit tnrowa you into convulsions!”
cried Medea, her eyes fl isbing, her lip curling.

Instantly all signs of emotion vanished from
the face of the professor, and once more he
seemed the cool, sharp wittrd man of business,
as be confronted the proud beauty.

“Not so, Miss Pennington. I did not come
here to denounce Lloyd Pennington, because
my lips are forever sealed on the subJect of his
crimes.” ' ' _

“You speak in enigmas, man!" impatiently
cried the younglady. “If you have only such
vague and unsatisfactory hints to give out, Wny
did you come here! W by did you seek nie cut?

What is your object in asking for an interv1ew
with mei” ,

“Not because I wished it on my own account.

Or is he—is

Miss Pennington. charming though you are.” l

was the cold X‘eSDODSP. “I am under orders,
and when I was hidden, I felt compelled to
come.
the past. My lips are forever under seal, so far
as that is concerned.”

Tnci‘il l'in lirys-lf again!" I

 

go up

  

up“ m.-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

other p-rson bade you come here and seek me
out i r

The professor bowed. in silence.

“Are you also sworn l0 Ses-r icy on lint
po'iil 5‘ with a cuttiugsneer. " [lots the mva
for}: own tlii~ master of yours, also?”

" Misti ess, not in ister,” coldly replied the
professor. with a. to-v of correction to the young
lady wlo stood so proudly before him in her al-
most regal beauty. "I come Iron: my sisler.”

“ And her interrst in the case?” ‘

" Not much, tho vgh you may find it sufficient
to l xcuse my intrusion. Sin is the wife of the
man you are hunting.”

Maiea Pennington started back with a low
cry.

(To be continued—commenced in No. 58.)

 

 

A Mountain Episode.

BY BERT L. THOMPSON.

THE men gathered into the camp, a round
dozen Or so of engineers, surveyors and their
attendants, who were laying out the line of a
new railway among the mountains. and soon
the sound of many voices, the rough jest-s and
hearty bursts of laughter elicited by them,wllke
the echoes around, in a place which seemed
hardly to have known the presence of man, so
wild was it, so overp0wering in its sense of op-
pgessive loneliness and remoteness from civilized
ii 6.

But this party had little respect for the ma-
jesty of nature, Whose efforts in the way of
precipices, chasms, and seeminglyimpenetruble
wildernesses, were only so many obstacles to be
overcome.

“ if We strike a few more laurel thickets it
will be about a thousand years before we get, to
the other side,” grumbled one of the axmen. in
answer to a companion less acquainted with the
locality than himself.

“ What’s the matter with you, Nvdig?” asked
another of the men. “ You're as close grained
as this knot which I’ll make a pipe out of it I
break every knife in the party. Take that as a
warning thatyou‘ll be brought to time, too, if
you don’t improve your manners. What’s the
use. of glowering so? You’re the bluest devil I
ever got boll of in all my life.”

“ He’s a little Leyond his normal condition to-
night," sail Nydig’s his (this, with a malicious
glance into the lowaring countenance of the ax-
man, whom they had all selected as a butt for
jest and ridicule. “ We Worked together to
day, and I have an idea of my own that he saw
a‘gbost. I myself took the p urty to be one of
those hunters who are camped at Black Point,
bunfnmi the way Nydig glared at him i feel
sure that it was either a spook or the rival who
ran away will) hi.- swectneart. Ever hear that
story, boys? I’ll tell it to you, though I expect
he’ll murder me first time we are alone to-
gether. She was a strapping girl, you known,
six foot two if she was an inch, the sort they
raise in these Allegheny valleys—” '

Nydig sprung up, and, with a muttered oath,
s'rode away and was soon lost in the darkness.
Experience had taught him that this was the
only way to escape the raillery of his com-
panions when once they were started to tease
and provoke him. _

He was a man or thirty, rather heavy and
slow in his actions, but with a latent ferocity in
his nature which he knew, if the others did not,

 

dim lig‘it, re made out the features of the man
bending over him.

.“You sent [1)" to prismi for your crime ” Ny-
(lig went; on. " You le-‘t me to work out, your
svute: on th‘ 1‘6. and when 1 cu mc for'h n‘ free

girl who had l‘cen pl‘lllllleel to me was your
Wlf0,allIl that both of ch were gone no one
krier whi-rc—onlv I thought maybe you were
hiding from me, afraid for your life. Was that
the way of it?”
_ Wnr..s were not needed; the shrinking terror
in VV..rrrn’s face was enough.
‘5 . .',, , ' . ‘
H ’You were right, I00,"$dld Nydrg, fierctlv.
1 ve h id murder in my heart from that day to

this, I we ranted vengeance, and how my time
has come.

“ Mercy—for her sake."

“For her sake, maul Here, over with you.
and pray if you eVer did for both of our souls.”

His braWny hands grasiled the other’s shoul-
dirt: and dragged him to the edge of the shelf:
phanioment balanced in the grip of despair and
invrncrble hale, tnen the spat was vacant, and a
dull plunge in the black waters beneath was

caught up and carried away by a hundred
echoes.

 

A mile away. on the. other side of the moun-
tain spur, a man staggered, wet and dripping
and beavrly burdened, out of a narrow ravine
which was choked with the rank growth of a
swamp at the bottom, and overhung with the
arching foliage of trees and vines, which shut
out the light of day and made it a fearful spot,
but no earthly Eden could have been a welcomer
sight to Nydig.

He laid his burden down then, and two weeks
after, when Warren came back to his senses
and gamed a little strength, it was to find that
the hand of his old-time friend, his later enemv,
had been turned from dealing death to a. strug-
gle for life, but he never knew all the hardships
which had attended them through that inns,
painful, subterranean passage; he could onlv
guess at the mental change which had brought
about that renunciation of vmgeance. and as he
turned away his weak face flushed snidenly
with contrilion and shame.

“ i don’t deserve this from you. Allan.”

“I reckon that‘s akout true.” said Nvdig.
coolly. “ I‘ve sort of sail so to myself, but it‘s
all of no use. I had the devil in me big tilll
had you altogether at my mercy, and the dou5e
of coli water put a little sense into me, and
lhen I minded how you‘d always been a weak
sort of chap an’ we a strong one. I know now
you’d "a’ saved me from the prison if you could
have done it without giving yourself away. and
I don't blame you for that. If you’ve been
good to her. it's all I ask.”

“God knows I have."

“And she‘s happy with you?" wistfullv.

“ You shall see how happy," Giles began, ea-
gerlv. but. was checked by the other.

“No, never. Only if,“ her know that I sent
you back to her, and—and tell her I’m not quite
so black as they say.”

“I will,” promised Warren, with a passing
impulse upon him to make a full confession and
so clear this m an of the stigma which had
blighted his life, but he lacked the moral cour-
age when he went back to his place in the
vr arid, and Nydig never crossed his path in life
again.

“ Thus runs the world away.”

 

 

 

 

it were well not to arouse. Something had
happened to stir this element in him now, yet
it was not the ill~timed merriment of his com-
panions.

“ isn't the world big enough to let me live
without running across him in it!” he mut-
tered, with something like a shiver going over
his frame—at the possibility, perhaps, of what
might occur should fate throw his enemy in his
w uy just then.

The early moon threw its white beams across
the OppOslte slope, lighting the very spot where
he had behold the hunter earlier that day,
and with a bitter imprecation Nydig hurried
away in a vain effort to walk down his haunt—
ing thoughts. The moon had disappeared, and
the pal; starlight was altogether ineffectual to
light the somber depths of the mountain forest
when he turned his course toward the camp, but
he had wandered further than he had supposed,
ftr an hour's tramp failed to show him the
glow of the dying camp-fire. Another and an
other passed, and the conviction against which
he had struggled could no longer be fought off:
he was lost on the mountain, lest amid the track-
less labyrinths of the rhododendron thickets
which clothed the slopes, and above which the
towering monarchs of the forest waved their
heavy heads, while a faint gurgle coming from
the bowels of the earth itself, indicated the
presence of a. subterranean river. The thick
mist of the early morning was rising, too, chill-
ing him to the very marrow. He had no choice
but to keep moving, and when the sun came up,
the light stole in upon a haggard, tramp-weary
man, worn as much by the conflict of his own
evil pa~sions as his experiences of the night.

“ I reckon it’s all right,” he said, Within him-
self. “ It’s the Lord's way of keeping him and
me apart. I’d ’a’ murdered him if I’d got the
chance.”

Like a whisper on the breeze came a startling
sound, the faint cry of a human soul in some
dire extremity imploring succor, and distant,
muffled as it was, Nydig started with all the
bitter strife raging anew within him. His ene-
my’s voice crying for help, and he alone of all
beings within reach of the sound! Was it in
his nature, half-savage and perverted by brood—
ing upon his wrongs, to yield to a spirit of
mercy and go to the rescue? Alas, no! He fled
from the spot as he should have fled from his
great temptation. Hours more of wandering,
with his brain in a whirl, his limbs quivering
beneath his weight, hunger and thirst both as.
sailing him with their increasing pangs, stag—
gering blindly on, yet neVer escaping from that
evergreen sea that encompassed him like a. net,
for the rhododendron grows in imp=netrable
mass of twisting branches which take root at
every dropping joint, and turn in its green lanes
which way he would, he was forever enmeshed
in its winding snares. It was mid-afternoon
when he dropped down at last, with a sullen de-
spair stealing over him. remembering the stories
he had heard of bleaching bones found In these
wastes, the only clew to the mystery of missing
men who had disappeared to be heard of no
more.

The stupor of physical exhaustion stealing
over him was broken by a moan hear at hand.

“ Oh. God, is there then no help?”

He started up wildly. What evil chance was
it that had guided his steps back to the very
spot from which be had fled hours before?
What was it thatpossessed his enemy to cry out
his own name at that moment?

“ Nydigl Allan, oh, Allan, have mercy.”

Instantly the excitement under which he had
labored fell away from him, and Nydig moved
forward in the direction of the voice.

" Where are you?” be asked. hoarsely.

A faint cry as of utter astonishment. then:

“ Here, and look out for the cleft. Here, and
thank Heaven for its mercy. I thought no one
would ever come.”

It was a thanks iving which might have been
spared had Giles arren known who was peer-
ing in at the aperture through which he had
fallen. He was lying on a ledge twenty feet
below the surface, in a cave like opening, and
far beneath sounded that gurgle of unseen wa-
ter. while the chill, sucking draught told of an—
other outlet, but Nydig's glance was fixed upon
the figure vaguely seen through the dimness of
the place.

“ Are you hurt?" he demanded.

“Bruised, stunned when I first fell, but I’ve
quit hurting in this beastlv cold, clean froze to

 

the marrow. Can you get me cut 9" _ ‘
Tli-re was no reply. instead, Nydig let him-
1 self down through the hole, climbing where he

lcould find a foothold, and dropping for a dis-

But not to tell you the b ack story of  tance of ten feet to the shelf by the other’s side.

"Giles Warren, do you know me!” _
There was a recoil on the part of the suffering

“ Underorders?" echoed Medea. “ Then some , man, a look of horror in his eyes as, used to the

Circus lililgli in Winter.

BY THE Elli-REPORTER.

 

“WHERE do the (ircus riders go in winter.

and what do they occupy fhemSelves with [liensl
Do they teach others to ride. or find any other
way to utilize their talents" were questions
asked of an old circus man.
“ Of late years,” the O. C. M. responded, set-
ting down his empty glass. “the best of them
have found no difficulty in getting engagements
during the winter season in the permanent cir—
cuses of Europe. They have no riders over
there as good as we can send them. and though
the pay is not so good as on this side expenses
are proportionate y less than here, and a iiler
is enabled by merely crossing the pond a couple
of times to keep at work all the year through,
getting enough to save something on all the
while. That, of course, only applies to the best,
and those who are, so to speak, ‘foot loose’
among them. Frank Melwlle and his wife went
over only a few days ago. Sometimes family
reasons keep them at home during the winter,
and more often they have to stay here to train
new horses for the next season, as is the case
now with Billy Dutton, who could be earning a
handsome salary abroad if he did not have to
remain in New York to train a. couple of horses
that he intends to use next season. Whether
they go abroad to perform in public or stay at
home to practice and train in private, you may
take it for granted that they have work enough
0n hand to keep them busy, without giving les-
sons to anybody but the'r horSes, or their chil-
dren, or, very rarely, their apprentices. I re-
member hearing in my boyhood a song, the
refrain of which was ‘A poor man’s labor is
never done.’ Neither is the circus rider’s. Un-
tii he gets to the pinnacle of his profession he
must pract 08 every winter industriously, so as
to be better the next season than he was the
season before, and worth a little more money.
Even when he is out on the road peOple who im-
agine that his labor is cenfined to the fifteen or
twenty minutes he rides at each performance
make a big mistake. He rides and practices in
the ferenoons every chance he gets. But his
best time for improvement is in the winter, and
even if he ‘knows it all’ he must work then to
ktep himself and his horses in trim for next
season’s service. You’d better see Dutton,
though, it you want to know more about the
subject."

Mr. Dutton smiled grimly when questioned
as to whether he taught people to ride in the
winter season. “ No,” he replied: “ a rider has
all he can do, if he is conscientious about his
work and ambitions to maintain himself at
the head of his profession. to teach himself and
his horses. Besides, I hardly think that a cir-
cus-rider, howwer good, would make as good
a teacher of riding outside the ring as many
practiced masters of horsemansbip old cavalry
ofilccrs, and private gentlemen would. You see
our accomplishments are very different. Our
training is not to sit well on a horsc, but to
s'and on him, and turn somersaults and pirou-
ettes on him, and jump ofi, on, and over him,
and keep our footing in all sorts of dimcult, un-
expected, surprising and preposterous ways
while we are frolicking around the animal,
and, in short, run a succession of risks of break-
ing our bones. without ever quite doing so if we
can help it. Ninety-nine men out of a hundred
can, by reasonable praCtit-e, become good riders
for the road, but ninety-nine out of a hundred
can never, by any amount of practice, become
good riders in the ring. Circus equestrianism
demands a. peculiar aptllude, and even with
that. many years of patient study and laborious
practice before excellence can be attained.
People outside the business wonder sometimes
at the seemingly large salaries we get. They
do not know how hardly and at what risks they
are earned, and what has been gone through to
qualify for them. It takes seven or eight years’
steady work. in public during summers, and in
private through the winters, for a young man
or woman to become sufi‘isiently proficient to
corn mire than a mere living salary.

ly. according to the progress they make in their
art.
and after they have attained the long—contend-
ed—for prfze 0" a good position. they are liable

perhaps crirp’ed for life. by the stumble of a
horse. the slipping of a foot, an unlucky wrench
in the air. the momentary carelessness of a
banner—b0] ler, that plOS‘llC and cummon fiend,

hazards to which they are daily exposed.
Should they not. be well paid to counterbalance
such con‘ingencies?

 

“I could tell you of a charming young wo-

man at-‘er five years’ time, if. was l0 find lhe‘

Season 3
after seasrn their c.nnpen:~ation increases slmv- '
And all the while they are in training, :

at any moment to be thrown cut of work and i

the rheumalism. or.some other one of many:

man, the (lati,:hl:r of an old circus man. who
A ttrrc or four years ago. as the 1"Sllll, or prac:
flee from almost her infancy. Seemed to have a
nrilhanr future in the ring before i er. All who
saw lpr ride said she was bound to be u,._.
American equestrian queen, for she h id all the
3 rrt]lllSli.l—S of grace, during, skill, and bralllV.
One (1 xy she met with an accident. an Unlucky
fall from a hadlydrained horse. It. mignr have
been 111' l‘e' s rious in some resptcts, tutcertoiu-
lv not Si far as hr-r prospeczs “ere COOL'GII'M d.
‘Yllflll slegot Well sic was found l0 have a
slight but incurable limp, c-no go [0 quite unlit
her for ever riding in the rirg again. On the
street, or on the stage, where she. has found cm-
ployinent at one quarter of what she could have
earned ‘in the ring, you would not notice any
defer-t in her walk, but she can never again
safely stand upon the back of a horse, or lzap
oyel‘ ‘a banner. ‘Do riders eVrI‘ take appren-
tices? well, occasmnally, but rarely in this
country. They are shy of it. Teaching a boy
or a girl to ride is a very long job, generally a
thankless. and seldom a profitable ore. A
parent wrll teach his own children, of course

and'the best riders come from old circus famij.
lies in which riding may be said to have become
a hereditary trait, and learning the business of
the rim: is cornmencgd in childhood and is com-
parativrly easy for them. Oihers get invo it
by degrees. knocking around a circus as helpers
of some sort, or as tumblers, and so on wmking
their way in ruling if they feel that that is
Iheir vocation. There are some apprentices.
but not many. One thing that militates against
them Is that the law respecting the public. cm~
ployment of children prevents their doing any-
thing for their teachers until years after they
should commence their training. A child may
sell papers in the streets, suffer hunger a» (1 cold.

be blighted in soul and ruined in lolv. and
that is all right, from the s. F. T. P. 0 C. T. 0.

point of view, tut it is monstrouslv aid out-
rageously wrong for it to do a little'dance or a
perfectly safe tumbling act on a carpet in 'he
ring or, as it gets older, to go around the ring
standing on a broad pad on the back of a per~

fectly-truined, sure old horse, w here it is just as
secure from harm as it would be in bed. it is
long after childhood. after the years in which

the low prover‘ts them, that they are, if at all,

pill. to the dangerous work of the professir-n. or
even allowed to attempt it. As a rule. circus
Dcl'fr'l‘fllFlS are kind-hearted. The risks fliev

knowingly take in their daily work, and the

conwiousuess that at any moinent they nay be

made dependent upon the kindness of otmrs.
undoubtedly have that effect upon them, and

there is not one real performer worthy of the

name who would treat a child with 'uanton
cruelly. If you hear of One u ho j:bs a boy

with an elephantprod or willfully jvrlas him cfi’
a horse to hurt him, you may set it (loan that
that fellow is no good in the ring himself. Oh,
no; I'm not speciallv alluding to that Fore-
paugh case. I’m just speakii g in a general sort
of way.

“ How are beginners taught to ride for the
ring? Well, at first With the mechanic, a loi g
arm that slicks out from the center pole. from
the end of which dangles arope fastened to a
belt around the learner’s waist at one end
and the other end in the teacher’s hard, The
pupil stands on a broad pad on the hm se’s hack.
and the supporting arm goes around as the
horse goes. So long as the pupil keeps his bal-
ance there is no strain on the rope. IVhen he
tumbles off, or is likely to, the rope steadies and
sustains him. It giVes confidence, and that is
its principal use, but it also preVenls falls.
When the. pupil Can stand well without it its use
is abandoned. Fora long time nothing is at-
tempted but to teach the pupil to stand easilv,
safely on the horse, and to balance hunsell'
gracefully to the horse‘s stride. Then he learns
to do the same riding backward, wli'ch is harder.
Then he jumps up a little, an inch or two Onlv,
and keeps at it until the fact is imbedded in his
mind that he takes his forward impetus from
the horse and only has to jump up and not for-
ward, and for that the mechanic probably has
to be again brought into play to have him from
ugly fumbles by his jumping out over the brrse's
shoulders or on his neck. Each thing must be
learned well before a new thing is tackled. and
nothing learned most. ever be al10wed to lapse
for want of practice. Slow wor k, you see. I‘ve
no doubt it would be easier to learn Greek-
would for a Greek, anyway.

“Where do these lessons go on during the
winter? In several places about New York,
such as Stone’s. down in Jersey, and Stokes's
in Fordbam, and Carroll‘s, in Westcbester; but
the most perfect in all is the one Barnum has
in his wintering buildings up at Bridgeport.
All these establishments are in constant active
use through the winter, often engaged by per-
formers for certain hours each day for seasons
ahead. You see, we have to supply our own
performing horses, and not only keep our old
ones up to their work, but educate new ones as
the old wear out. Agood cold-bladed horse,
one that never gets nervous or exnited, doesn’t
break his gait, knows enough not to step (in his
rider should be fall. has the Sense to feel if the
rider makes a SOmersault a little out of true,
and sway to catch him right as he comes down
—that sort of a horse is valuable to us. and to
get one that way we trust work along while
with him. That we have got. to practice cur-
selves ~vou know already. I’m at work now,
and shall he tntil the season opens: getting Up
in something new that I rxpect will meke a
sensation if I don’t break my neck at it before I
get a chance to show it in public.”

 

Casual Mention.

 

A FEMALE cowl‘ov i?) is one of the interesting
features in Las Vegas, New Mexico, society.
She can throw the lariat and “rope” an animal
as well as any of the male experts of that pro-
fession.

MRS. A. T. STEWART, although more than
three-score and ten, belieVes the better part
of her life is yet to come. She has cleanlv-cut
and refined features and long, silver braids of
hair. She is fond of the society of young people.

THE salaries of the thirty-one English bishops
amount to $809,500, or an awrage of $21000
each. The aggregate salaries of the 13 728 bene-
flcvd clergy are $22,626.975, or an average of
$1,640 each. Nearly 4.000 clergyman have an
average income of less than $750.

OSCEOLA, the grea: Seminole chieftain. does
not lie in a. neglected grave in Fort Moultrie’s
ruins, as some sentimentalists have been wail—
ing. His bones were long since removed to 3
Charleston cemetery and a monument rises
Over them, while only the tombstone remains in
the fort.

As a curious souvenir of the war. Major Ross,
of Macon, 0a., has preserved a piece of whwt
was known in the Confederate army as “ram-
rod bread.” It was made by stringing out a
piece of dough and twisting it around a ramrod
and then baking it by suspending it on two
forked sticks.

PENNSYLVANIA was founded by William
Penn, and it was the only State named from
its founder. The suffix “sylvania” signifies
“forest land,” and is descriptive of the general
character of the country. Three counties ly-
ing southeast of Pennsylvania were formerly
territories of that State. In 1701 they were
granted a charter and named I)claW8]'F, after
Lxrd De La. I‘Var. who first explored the bay
into which the river empties.

A PARTY of eleven hunters were caught in a
IIUI‘YICHDE in Miser uri. and fOr proréction waded
, inlo Mod Like. holrinz their nuns above the

surface. Tile devastation going on in the
woods 9: as terrific. Large trees were uprooted,
limbs and branches flving through the air like
nimxs. It seemed as though some. terri'da
Titan was cutting a swath Ihl'"l1_!ll the six-cola,
; The lightning kept up a continuous flush. It
was. in facl, a perfect wcr of the elements.
Duck: flocked to the lake and swam stout. less
terrified bv the hunters than by the lillrllC'TE.
1 Large numbers Were killed by the party during

1 the two hours the storm lasted.

 

 

 

Popular Prams.

GWINE’I‘ER ICILL llllGS TIER-DAY.

Cum, buil' up dc fire all’ heat dc bi
w (in iiizctcr kill hugs U r- av:

l\ or yer brogaui shoes .ril‘ two pu’r [l’ socks
Sitiiicicr kill lugs tvru av. '

n ranger >t‘l'zll)(‘S (l: liu’i' \\ ill a hoe
l.r~‘.'lll(‘lC-l‘ lull bugs- for (lfl\.' '

rhuni;_v mun hot" puff and blow
. _ thrill-givi- kill h as tor-d: v. '
Dc trimmin am a‘b'iliu’ ob dc i-d in lie yard
(lwmelrr ltill hng tor-day; ’

An (lilt'lSlzllllt‘S niiglitycunniu’ ’cu’se do. gwineter hill)
1 1' , ‘

. ,v.
I: l Oaks,

Dc Gnlne

It makes (1.

Gwinetcr kill hogs fer-day.

9 ‘
fin ei fetch crlong de water, boys, an’ po‘ in de box,
en take away dc burnin‘ s ick aii’ fling in de rocks.
 Lawd a-nlassy. it am sich a fine sight,
he so givineter ha!) 5 ur’ ribs au' '
tor-night. p tenderhnes

Take up do clean shoot an’ han '
‘ ‘ - - .ghimonde l
. Gwmcfer k.ll hogs fer-(lav; po 6‘
Make a nigger smile ’vl ay down in his soul,
. Gwmeter kill hogs t~ r-day.
De chilun cum-crrouu’ crroastin’ 0’ de melt,
Qinucter kill hogs fer-day;
It am de bcs scent a 11st eh. r was smelt.
Gwincter kil' hogs ter-day. '
De dogs stagY ai'ouu’ n-sniffcn‘ 0’ de a’r,
wincter kill hogs fer-(lav;
An‘ bark at dc .iiigger as he Zrahs of de ha‘r,
Gwmeter kill hogs fer-day.
An’ cf“ clilirm crlong ter supper, boys, we’ll all cat
9 .
Fur dc liog’s bar-l'bone it am '
\ p0“ erful sweet'
We’ll chaw de co’n-cake an’ drink de buttermilk;
h, Lawd, we’se got it down jes’ as fine as any silk.

:0:
CRIJISON.

 

 

BY S. M. GIDL'.Y.

A flush of sunset in the west
‘Hungs crimson banners in the SkV
Lights up each solemn mountain ci‘ést,
And gliseus in the lake‘s blue cve‘
The slew old in is for many a mile '
Grow soft in that r. lICL‘Itd Iav,
As white-haired elders stand and smile
Watching a little child at flay. ’

Belated bees are humming sti‘l
.
I roni yonder sunflowcrs’ yoldcn row;
Semi tmr s a laugh lion‘s up the hill
From hindly v0icts far below;
And lll'ille or." r-sc n'cd girss
A l)l‘12<lf,.llll(’0'lS'-IIE ru~tle tv 115
WWW ', \\ ith gay hounds, incessant pass
The never-u curred snulcrcllcs.

Oli, is not tl is the home of place?
A shelter from llic car. 5 of llrb'.
\Vlicre i very jarring vcice must cease,
And husrcd be every sound of strife?
Where ever lrcsli '11s) ltnrpv hours
On noiselcss ] iui Ins gently [389.4,
W h~ re nothing fades, nor shadow lowers,
Save the cloud-shadows on the grass?

Nay, that would b"- a Paradise,
And Pu ailiSe is lost to men
Till, freed fr om earthly stains, they rise
To trcnd its fsdeless l 0\Yel‘~ again.
Here comes the upright of death and sin,
Of berth-fields where thruisands die,
Before whose carnage and its din
Pale the red glories of the sky.

 

:0:
PUIVIPKIN PIE. .

 

BY 11. s. KELLER.

Gentle stranger, let me ask,
Did you evr r Sir p to bask
In the atmosphere or cooking,
\Vl‘en a maiden fair is looking
Asknnl'clvfrmn the depths

Of her llllllll“, a' tire eyes—
As she shoves lli ll)" big Oven

Those delicious pumpkin pics?

Ah. what ecstasies appealing,
As aromas gently stealing
l’i‘i‘lllf’aif’ the rural kitchen
WhoSe confines hold a fair witch in,
Fascinating, dainty, rare,
To intoxicated (‘3 es!
'Tis the nairlcn, flour-laden,
Manipulator of the pies.

Pumpkin pies! What memories rise.
Even to the sunny skit-s,
As she opens to ,\ our eyes

The big (.ven she did shove in
Those delicious pumpkin pies.

Golden orbs of luscious glory!
Never had the World a story
Fairer to the heart of man.
Ayl to hearts of mortal clan,

Than the manuscript in \ ellow
Hot and toolhsomc ’n. ath your eyes,
And I fain would long to spel , oh

Worldly bliss—in pumpkin pics.

Quarter, half, the whole, oh, give it!

I could dwell in bliss and live it

In an hcur such as this,

Ah, forevermrre I wis—

Siiting in the phasant kitchen

\thse confines hold a fair witch in,
Fascinating, dainty, rare,

Askancely glancing from her eyes,

At me, over pumpkin 1. ice.

 

:o-

.

THE GANIBLER’S LAST DEAL.

 

“ I ‘ dealt ’ the ‘game ‘ for twenty years,
l at I‘ll never deal again.
For 1 saw one Sight Il‘zli makes me loathe
The thought of the ‘ tiger‘s ’ den!

“ Some tliI‘cP years back (as perhaps you know,
For I think I've seen you there),
I ‘ (lcnlt ’ for half the ‘hloods ‘ in town,
And my 'game,’ you bet. was ‘squarel‘

" One night a boy strayed into my (lace,
Who couldn’t have turned eighteen,
And half a glance v. as enough to 3~hOW
He was what the sports call ‘ green !‘

“ His flaxen hair was as fine as a girl‘s,
But I saw. to his bright blue eye,
The love of play like a Serpent creep,
Or a cloud o’er summer‘s sky!

” Well, night after night, you might see lzim there,
And his luck was worse than bad,
But he never‘ squealed ’ when he lost his ‘ pile,’
And I almost pitied the lad!

” I should say, in the space of a month or so
(I can‘t just name the time),
He ‘ dropped ‘ a hundred thousand, cool,
If he ‘ cropped ‘ a single dune!

“ One night he sat, with a haggard look,
In the place we called his own,
For his mile ’ was gone by twelve o'clock,
And his final coin was ‘blown l’

“ Then ‘ticker ’ and chain be handed in
For $500, ‘ staked in blue.’
Which ‘ went my way ' on a ‘co ered ’ ace
(’Tnas my ‘ limit ’ and reache y few)!

“ Quick he snatched from his breast a flashing gem,
Which he passed me with steady hand,
But 1 saw the r old sweat break from his brow;
Though his pluck was something g, and .-’

“ I handed him out a thousand more,
F- r I saw ’twas a peerless stone;
Well—it was no use, for the luck had ‘set,’
As he should. ere this, have known.

“ When his last ‘chip ’ went, for a while he sat
As if his sense had gone.
Then, reluctantly, from his smooth, white hand,
He drew a circlet worn—

“‘ How much for this?’ he hoarcely said;
' I know that its value’s smal'—
A dead mother’s gift; but, should 1 win,
I’ll redeem it, first of all.’

“ I tOOk the ring—’twas a poor old band,
Which. new, rr iglit cost a ‘ V ‘;

Though “tn as u orthlessnow,1passcd a ‘ stack,’
Just the etd of his lucx to see.

“ He ‘plahked ‘it down in the ‘pot.’ and then
His incl. on the table hid
'P--n his folded arms. and licwr movcd,
However the 'deal‘ v» as played.

“ I t ‘ld him when the ‘limit’ 'htirred,’
But he or sir. : rul rcw r a \VCI‘i',
So we phi. '41 five hundred on each card;
Still be neither spoke ncr stirred.

 

 

“ Well. would you belicveit? The '1 0t ‘ ‘ won out,’
For it 514 n‘rd tl at \‘H rn (.ld iii ,2

Had cii «rgcd lis luck i'liOngli i can't sayhow.

For luck is a ‘skceiy‘ icing».

 

  
  
   
 

 

“ I sitcok him up, for the 'dcal ’ was ‘madc,’
B- t his head fell brick lii e lead—
And I quit the ‘ game ' that wry night,
For that young chap was dead."

 

 

 

 

 

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difference between vulgarity and

g. I. - ' ' ha a d .
be expenflve' ‘St' Lows edltors use y D bad manners and good-breeding!

flax bein cheaper.) . _
If,yourgears are frost bitten and you ever dis-
cover it, rub them Wlt’b snOW. _
ln sloppy weather never go out Without our
gums. You may sometimes start away Wit iout

at the head of social life is,

 
  
  
    

 

and spread of refined taste.

’ o 105 to the re ister uoless you ‘ _
DOUtget m c e g reason for being.

want to write your name in it and have the
money to pay your bill; so says the landlord,

You will find it very unhealthy to sleep with
your head under the covers unless you keep
your feet out.

 

Bun ’ i-‘KLY is sold by all Sewsdealers in
the Unified Svtgtes and in ‘the Canadian Donpnion:
Parties unable to obtain it from a hewsdea er,
' " those preferring to have the paper sent diiiecEi 3t

7 ‘ mail, from the publication office, are supp ie a

temptible humbug.” _
writer says of America; . .
manners alone which div1des society into sets

   
     
    
    
   
  
  
  
  
    
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
    
     
   
   
   
   
 
  
   
   
  
   
     
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
     
   
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
    
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
  
 
   
   
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
    
  
   
  
  
  

 

 

or both ends of the foot; nor wear low-cut shoes
. which show the fact. .
H k  . Do not talk too long With a man who has
0p  S! J wind on the brain, for you may have to talk of
Hades to keep warm. . I _

OR’ in going out these cold nights to parties it

would be better if young men would Wear their
latest style of vests cut a little bit larger than
a liver—pad if they would have them answer
for chest—protectors. _ I
You should not clothe yourself in your dig-
nity and go out in it on a cold day, as the
chances are you will soon find such apparel
pretty thin, and get a cold that Will hardly fit
your head.
. If you find yourself the sole owner and pro-
prietor in fee-simple of a medium or small»
sized cold, with a cough to suit its. caliber and
complexion, do not, if you sleep in _the room
next to me, neglect it, nor let it he around

entirely in the society of our own country, and
arises, no doubt, from the conditions which

cation, and born in abject poverty, to arise by
industry, thrift, and native cleverness, to excel-
lent positions in life, and the universal ten-
dency of our people, among all but the most
highly cultured, to letmoney, unsupported by
any other claim, assure social status to its pos-
Sessor. Then people vary so greatly in natural
characteristics—some being by instinct more
refined than others, and some being peculiarly
observant and swift to imitate. while others
only see and learn the things to which their at-
tention is forcibly directed—that of these per-
sons who work their way to social stations into
which they were not born, some naturally grow
in refinement and observanCe of all nice forms
and kindly social laws, while others improve
only in the on direction of their peculiar busi-

Lion Charley’s Luck,

is a realistic story of show life with real show
people for characters. It does not treat, like
the ordinary show story, of noblemea’s daugh—
ters stolen by Gypsies, and found by distin—
guished parents riding in a ring. The charac-
ters are real and drawn from the life !
~ Lion Charley, Elephant Jim, Sally Hicks, the
~' " : Manege Rider, Tom Fowler, the bareback act
- man, Professor Rabbetts, the Ringmaster, and

 

/ ' loose. By such treatment it is apt to grow ra m- ness ability. Theso people are not averse to po-

-' Old Pop Hicks, the veteran showman are all pant as a hoarse lion and may be the foundation liteness; they apprecmte good manners in others,

L j A. ' . \ well known in the profession; while Onion of a quick consqmiplictn, t h h th. th gipcghzrterislili;c;gll:itgxeetg tggagsgzigilfigfig
5.41"" 3 L - - _ n acies-r os ow 0W in e - ; ,

K: i: :. . i . George and little Charley Moone Will be recog cayglefpssyiclilucgd wealth; I have always noticefi be swiftfind glad to correct most_] not all—0f

 * - ‘T ' ‘ DIZOd by hundreds: that they are thinned out pretty fast, and thin- their mistakes, if only some acquaintance had

 t The Story Of the rivalry between two Shows, soled shoes are also making them thilpner.Id “It; Torahighl‘aget topomt that: ("WI-n gghfgfi'tu'

 . ‘ ' ' L ' e tookonethrou h See that on do not start out in t e co un- DE 8 y, WI 11108 90139115, 0 h a 0 059

3 _ and the ca‘aStrPhe Wh1mhhov tr . ISO foundid til you hag. eaten a good substantial moal— whose lack_of breedingis the greatest, thesub-

 3' - r — the fury Of an "bane 9 ep an ’ 13 a eVen if you have to wait till dinner for it. Ject of their manners is a peculiarly sensntive

.  . ;-‘: if on fact, and in “King Philip ” many a shOW- NOW is the time when all thoughtful wives one; andthere are few things which require so

man will recognize “Tippoo Saib,” who was should show their husbands last winter’s health much spiritual bravery. as for one to ever so

:- h t for his vices years ago report, and try to convmce them that sealskm gently pom}: Out to a friend or acquaintance a

. l. _ ’ s 0 _ "’, ' . .» sacques prolong life and Shorten the doctor‘s fault of this nature. The person who does so

,.;  ; ., 4 Altogether, it is not only charming in story, bi“. may expect to be Openly rpgnrged by bls fnend

 _ inspiring in incidentand just alive with personal Young men should be pr‘ovidential and hu- with disfavor, even though in his heart the

 interest but is singularly fresh and new in its mane enough to show their girls that cold lflendimay feel thahkml torthe 1.95501! taught-

. ' - sleigh-riding this winter, when the mercury is B or this reason teachers, and public writers and

= r ~ ' kmd and quanta)“ down in the basement, is very provocative of speakers, who can attack personal faults With-

  - 01d pop Hicks colds, and that it is better not to risk their out seeming to be personal, cannot too often re-

health.
The kind of lungs which are in the market
nowadays are not the best calculated to stand
the severest weather, and if you are rich enough
to own a pair. or only one, it stands you, res-
piratively, to see that they do not have any ex-
cuse for failing to do their allotted task. A
preserve spot on your shirt bosom will not be

fer to this uestion of the need of individual at—
tention being giVen to the acquirement of
refined and polite manners, and thorough fa-
miliarity with the etiquette which should gow
cm the social intercourse of the American peo-

le.
p Goodvbreeding is not a matter of birth—save
in so far as well-bred parents can surround their
children from infancy with an atmosphere of re
finement and examples of courtesy; a knowl-
edge of etiquette cannot be bought; good man-
ners do not come naturally by heritage, or with
a college education or the acquisition of wealth.
“ Blood,” learning, and wealth, combined, cannot
make of a person a entlewoman or a gentleman.
It is true we spea of “innate good breeding”
when we meet people of peculiarly refined or
unselfish natures; but, as a sensible writer has
said: “In reality there is no such thing: good
minners are only acquirid by education and
observation. followed up by habitual practice
at home and in society.” They may be—and
should be—t-aught by precept and example by
parents to children from infancy up: but even
where refined parentage, home culture, and even
all Socialadvantages have been lacking. good
manners are still attainable—own to the highest
degree of elegance—to every man and woman
of ordinary intelligence, by the simple, unpat—
ented, and uncostly proce:s of selfiv‘illture.
To quote the writer referred to above—-
“ Good-breeding is the test, the touchstone that
reveals to us the gentle“ oman and the gentle-
man:” and by intelligent observation, and con-
stant practice at home and abroad, of All that is
proper, kind, considerate, and refined, any per.
son may acquire that true good—breeding which
is the only American caste distinction, and

 

vi will command the hurrahs of a big ring of
' readers!

 

fire goes out at exactly ten o’clock had better
' h S  I follow suit immediately, and so save themselves
Sealshii Sam, l a par er,
OR.
' ~' tens for winter wear—- one at a time until they
Placer  Of Hunkl D01 1’ begin to abate theirlaziness. ’

, . , . and in saying what money you may have or.
the 31”” Of a DEADWOOD DILK 1” the use hand during this trying season. At least you
of the revolver, and the Wise head of a prince.

He who profits by these frigid hints, which

are given in all warmth of friendship, will crawl
" 7- - ‘ seeming devil-may~care demeanor and Ama
zou’sdress, is the woman of no little refinement

’ I
Edward l. Wheelers New Serial!
of any value as a preservative, but the warm
from a freezing reception next timg.
Now is the time for some girls to take an in-
. . . _ , If you are a marriei man, and can stay at
‘ . is in this pophlal‘ WI‘ “391‘5 happlest vem- sam your father-in-law’s through the winter, by hav
might give it a fair trial, and if your father—in-
of detectivas—which he really is, in his remark- law begins to Intimate that you are getting too
able disguise.
out in the spring all right.
and perfect. purity of character whose career is
full of wild romance.

" . j ' ' ~ rays of a real diamond pin may aid some.

.- ‘ . Starting 111 0111 Next Number, Young men who see that the gauged parlor-
terest in the health of some of their very slow
beaux, and begin to send them a supply of mit-

is a sparkle?" in more ways than one—a clear— ing reguiar'meals. habits, etc. ,_ I think you will
headed_ mel_ne,.v€d_quick_banded man, with have no difficflty in preservmg your healt -, ,
healthy you may know the plan is working to

 I _ perfection.

if - ’ Placer Poll is a kinzl of CALAMITY JANE

..,‘.- f —a girl sport of the mines—but behind her

Circe, the beautiful owner of the Cremonia
gambling and drinking saloon, is at once a mys-

SOLOMON SHINGLE.

 

The Wide Awake Papers.

 

 

 

which is the great need of the masses of the
~ /. \ 7 to”. and a pazde’ which ssalskin Sam is dos An American Need. American people. BELLE BRIGHT.
' tilled to 801% in a someWhat SUPPl‘iSihg man' THERE is no country in the world where the —-—'-—--
f' , ‘ *- , oer, necessity for good-breeding and acquaintance ' ,
 .1 The Tribunal of Ten is a band of 81”.er with the correct forms of social intercourse is 01059 Shave Str'ke-
i ' so imperative as in America: and there is no THE Laq V.gas (New Mpxico) Gasette haq
- scoundrelschose vengeance has been wreakedon civilized count“. in the world where there is , _  g - M -
, . . » . . . this whimsical story of a new and wonderful
5;; ' - . many a Victim, and whose deeds of robbery and such lack of_good-breeding and ignorance of strike in the Socorro Hing:__A miner in the
V ‘ r rapine make them a terror to the bravest miners. figgcglestgghg'gés :33)";S‘gifl‘geilxgfieufggt’fsing, hills near Socorro. New Mexico, mad? a lucky
' ' ' ‘ ' - ’ _ . . strike in a wonderful manner late . Two
' 4 {sam 15 to be the” Vlcm.m' and F06 deePly ex“? Bine had caught the Avg“) mama, and was m‘ Weeks ago, while tramping over the chks, the
. v "’3 Story that progrets"s rapidly after sams enned to 1001‘ down “"5.” c‘m‘elr pt “909 her prospector suddenly discovered that his haver-
~ ' : flrSt aPPl‘amhce in Hunki Dori Will make the Ownfiounliy' ,Bub Snob 13”?“ ghe fafip'b Eels" sack was on fire, caught probably ti om the con-
, . ‘ ,. . , - cons1 81‘81 a gory—some. ing orw 1c 0 e - b l ‘ .
W! W   . .  glad aid ecumen- she was born an greaterdisservice.Pawn:
It is Mr. Wheeler s first appearance in a serial, Amencan There 15 not a country under the . ‘. i)
l . . . ‘ '. . . . haversack contained about six pounds of last-
- ' and therefore Will excite more than usual inter: sun of which its Citizens have .so much cause to ing‘powder, and our hem dropped the bundle
K Bah—WhiCh Will be 33 amply answered as in the b‘ltgmgdfi £3? Whécigltfuglt”??? 3.3011“ [tobvf‘ and got out of reach as far as his legs Would
‘ - best of his DEADW’OOD DICK and Rosnnun R013 27:, S of th 5,: an” 33 t‘ .t‘; .9”. 'g’bm“ as . ls carry him. The bundle of caps fell into a crev—
. .s, mu" 0 e “’9‘ u 1 ‘5 3"” “came ‘5 ‘3 ice in the rocks and the powder soon exploded.
. . l "oven the home 0f the “99' “can.” there are "0 "‘3' The prospector’returned mournfully to gather
‘3‘ ' 3' 0‘35.“ mm” 91;”qu gem; tibia,” “3 Shogldhb‘ijth‘iamg up such of his effects as were uninjured by the
‘ ' ‘ . hmon-as 1. '5 ' 9 pm" 933 an t e u” "0 explosion, when something in the appearance of
T    everyfimerlcan to be the equal or every other the shattered rock struck‘his e e and be ex-
}? V Amenc‘m 1“ refinement 0‘ ac? am! speed] 90‘ amined it closal —it was‘horn si ver. The now
in i \ ' liteness of manner, and propriety of socia in-

jubilant miner ocated a claim at once, which
he called “Close Shaw,” and in less than a
week dispOSed of one third of his interest at
$13,000. The name of the “honest son of the
pick and sh0vel” is John Quincy Adams, and
he hails from Western Ohio. John is well
known in Sonora county. and receives the con-
rratulations of his friends in a modest manner.
John Adams’s “ close shave ” is a byword now
in the mining camps.

‘ ~ How to Preserve Your Meat for the tercourse. In other countries knowledge of eti-
, Winter. quette and good-breeding is only expected in
- .A ; - the upper ranks of society, of people who ridi-

"  , ‘ THE winter of 1883 is in full blast, and a little in “ first-class carriages:" but in America it is
. fatherly advice at this time may eventually imperative that every American who can pay
. ‘v‘ j ,3  says you much trouble, and kei p you from the five cents, to ride in a. street-car, or one cent, to

‘i' 34,; .1- ‘ necessity of telling the doctor to put it down ride in a ferryboat, should be as Well-bred as
, " _' . . , along with the other account. the millionaire, the savant, or the President,
1, Don’t (300] off too suddenly. If you are whomay sit in the seat next him. Here—theoret—
" h .ving a heated quarrel with another man cool ically, and to a great degree practically, “all
- 1i down by degrees—gradmlly, for you will be in men are free and equal.” The rich and the

' danger of taking cold, and then the cold perhaps poor meet together, travel together, wield po-
might take you. litical pOWer together. Education is as free to

 

A Spotted Girl.

 

, . Never take more cold air into your mouth the beggar lad as to the heir of a bonarza king. IN the town of Springfield. Ohio, there lives
"” ‘ l than you c in swallow: you may get choked, or The laborer of to day may be the light of fash- a young girl who is and of right ought to be a
3‘ the air may settle on the lungs in a chunk and ion to—mori'OW. The rail-splitter, the tanner, mulatto, but the color of whose skin is con-
} do you serious i:-jllfy, and the tow-boy have risen 'o a position where stantly changing from deep brown to a sn0wv
fl If you have a hole in one side of your shoe, there was no one in their own country who was white, and back again to its original hue. The
p  make a hole in the other side, so the rain or the not proud to meet them socially and where the Springfield Globe, which describes this plie—
 cold can get out. It seems like it is not a good crowned heads of other lands were glad to do nomeuon. is precise enough to say that she
' 3* thing, but it is nevertheless an open truth. them honor. There is not the mOrtal so poor lives at No. 107 Scott street, and is the (laugh-
 It may be more convenient to sometimes go but may walk the parlors of the “Mile House ter of a well-to—do draymau named James
2‘5 to brd with your boots on, but you need not al- shoulder to shoulder with titled visitors from Keemer. The trarsition is not affected by a
‘ ‘5: ways go to that trouble to keep your feet warm other countries and the greatest people of his slow proc 'ss of uniform fading, but by the a
 w hen you retire. There is no use f :r a mar- own nation. There is not the American of such pearance of successive white spots which finale
 ried man to have cold feet if his wife is well 10w degree but he may shake hands with the

monopolize the entire surface. It follows that
at certain stages of this transformation the girl
preSents an exceedin ly striking aspcct. Thus
the reporter of the G obe, who was recently ad~
mitted to an inspection of the phenomenon, re-
marks: “ Very often the neighbors say they are
accnst mied to seeing the child run about dur—
ing the warm weather with one foot ard ankle
as dark as any little colored girl’s

trained.

Never stand on a cold pavement two hours
trying to convince a man just at what precise
lime in the con ing century you will Settle that
little amount. it will be cold comfort to him
and ‘give you the shakes.

If you must bathi— your feet, use warm water
and soft-soap. tt en wipe them thoroughly drv,

/

head of the nation as freely as he would shake
hands with one of his own kindred. Here, no
frippery coricerning the sacredness of royalty
guards a throne until not men a child dare go
unbidden into the presence of his mother.
Here no divisions of rank make it impossible
for a man to marry the woman he loves, or for
a woman to choose her own husband. No! in

 

i

“aw.”- ‘4}:1'9‘.

 

 

 

_ _ o , _ , need be and

and jump into bed suddenly, letting yo Ir Wife America, education and refinement are the the other as white as that of the fairest lady of

'iend to the evening chores. . open scsames to any socxety or any social al- the land. Frequently one hand is a dark nin-
Never go along on a cold day With your ears liance.

There is, and there never can be, but
oiie caste difference in America; and that is a
difference which every mortal must build up

latto color, While the other will be spotlessly
white and almost transparent. Often the child‘s
face will be entirely white except the eyelids,

up n: besides being in danger of hearing any
m-v’us alioutryourSelf, you may get the ear
up: i ; pug then: up with cotton, though it may

 

 

refinement,

A writer of distinction says, upon this very
point: “The only eXcuse for the existence in
this country of a. set, or sets, pretending to be
that they

- H - ‘ ‘ hould on for et really fulfill certain. important funcrions, that
'7 :1 i “ Puhléshed every Monday morning at "me 5‘10",“ 5733; tfiffig’ bun In no Gabe S 3 g they really offer a higher standard of elegance
.’ ' A y Kcegp aii'equal tempei ature, even if you have and culture, that they really_encourage an iinh
1 NEW YORK JANUARY 12’ 1884' to elbow somebody else away from the stove. provement in manners and stimulate the growl
I , . , .

This is their only
If they do not this, their
exrzlusiveness is an insolent pretension, a con-
And another eminent
“Here it is good

, the following rates: NeVer go to sleep in a church where there is One set has no breeding‘lat _a.(ll,(alt‘i’%th¢;i;vgats)ea
I m7 Subscribers Pontage Prepaid: adraught or an unorthodox minister. little, anot er_mor e, anot ier . b) g ,l_ h h

, ' F T. s to h ’ e1 00 Never jump up on a cold morning and make tween thaht which has norlie 3nth atilrtilig rags
 .co , four mom  - - - ' - ' ' ' ' “ ‘.' ' ~ - ' ill somebod else does enough t. ere are nim'e s in es iau '-
2  " 03m .Py one year ' ' ' ' ' ' H H   :‘hfilfo’halways p“ lt 0t“; 3 y how.” ’The truth of the latter part of the
m Two cepies’ one year . ‘ I i I ' ' - I i - i . I . i H o. u - Kiep' your hands gloved as you go down- declaration must be brOught home to the crit

\ In all orders for subscriptions beTcafefu'ng g“; street, or in your Own pocket, or, at least, not lcal observer with dgilorable frequeinclyhgo‘r t2:

| I  in  State. 00111th  atoggbirationpof in some otihpr manls pocket. I . . great body‘ of  mirlpan  dpvofil of

" Per 13.3‘YVa-Vs §t01)l)e‘(.t‘plnomc§n)stait with any late A barefaced liar should av01d gomg out in the sets which, “I. out eing ac iii y _h -

‘ subscription. bUbscnp 10 S h the cold unless he is well muffled up, though his all breeding, are lamentany fei fromj daglhg
nl’ll‘nigierOTTCE'—In sending money for subscriptimi, cheek might not be affected. enough. Such people shouldh be dm e d y a

b mail never inclose the currency except inva. re- Don’t Sit down on the ice either suddenly 0,. wme “no of mfforouce from t e coarse a.“ :g-

Stered letter' A POSt omce M““""“‘fi,§,f§§ long at a time; it is very unhealthy, and also norant persons who sueelir at th; wor etique e:

 ’, 1; form of a re'niittan‘ce.h Loijsiiseclgogéaarei fol; ungl-aoeml. B I and deliberately I‘ldltu 6 good mailine‘rvs1mg!“f
almost surely avmded it t ese Young ladies at the coming winter balls {ugly irre (tiftfin alinostdaslius‘e,sonuyyariWith-

’ lowe ' ‘ ' ' ’ 1 Y- a old chain around the neck, or In curing o 31‘“! e, an a mo a v g -

1 ' '> I WT)" ggéggnSTIXéllffiinggidi‘I'gggEf:bong, and e gltclghgtzefih‘reag of something, anywn y. Ollt heng CODSClOUS 0‘7 the" V'Jlgal'llEY- Oddly
f . ' ’ K ten on IliflilADLE AND ADAMS PUBLISHERS, My ulster would hardly make a jacket {or eqougth,,tool finally 309'] gpggglgtgégnmgfié?e:é

1‘ Iv ‘ v ’ r ' dPoleman but he is so thin t at er ut‘aie( 8m move In . :

I 98 WILLIAM ST" NW YORK. ggehalhifandges get cold through, he can get people whose homes are carpeted with qunette

’ ' warmed through again in a minute, but when and adorned Wéih thinewtest designs ofi satlin

‘L 4 I ' ' ' ’ L test ! a -el,s cold all over it is a more serious and plush and user). nne uriiiture:_an w o

' " capt. Prederle Whttaker s a :hititi'gmsonthey should stay indoors. take an interest. in public questions, and
Alp?» V ‘ Do’not wear stockings which are too short; stand high in business and religious matters.
I. I l- \ Starting 111 0111' NBXt Number ! We mean stockings which are worn off at either This is an anomaly to be found almost

make it possible for men and women of no edu-

closes her eyes the effect

eyelids alone white, giving the girl on unearth
1y appearance when the lids are down.”

Negroes Not Banjoists,
. JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS confirms the asser

about the banjo.
negro in literature with the real negro.

at the South.

cotton and the cane.” These songs, and

gia, where none is grown.
heard them passably use the fiddle, the. flute,

prising skill; but never a banjo, a tambourine,
or a. pair of bones.

The Lost Ledge.

THE Tucson (Arizona) Citizen relates the le-
gend of the lost ledge thus:—

“Some eighteen years ago, just after the
close of the rebellion, a negro hunter known as
‘Nigger Brown,’ brought three or four pounds
of Very rich ore to the drug store of Judge C.
H. Meyer, in this city. Mr. Ehrenberg, who
was then in Tucson, assayed it and found it
went $12 to the pound. The ore was soft and
black and out like plumbago. Brown explained
that he found the ledge sticking above the
ground on the hillside of a canyon in the VVbite-
stone Mountains. It was at a time when In-
dians were extremely bad and prospectors vs ere
not over-venturesome. He marked the spot by
cutting d0wn a mesquite tree about six inches
in diameter and leavmg the stump. The news
of Brown‘s find made an intense excitement, a
spark of which yet lingers in the imagination of
some who Would like to rediscover the lost
ledge. Brown was known as a man of the
strictest integrity and uprightness, and no one
ever knew any reason to doubt his word. Af-
terward Judge Meyer, accompanied by a
friend, with Brown for a guide, started to ex-
lore the canyon. Shortly after leaving the

hitestone Station they saw fresh Indian
tracks, and the $24,000 ledge lost all charms.
Brown died soon afterward of small-pox, and
with him died the secret of the location of that
mesquite stump and the rich ore ledge. Pros-
pectors have seaicbed in vain. Numerous lOca-
tions have been made, and in some instances
mines have been well developed in this canyon,
but Brown’s ledge refuses to disclose its Where-
abouts. Judge Meyer thinks it will yet be
found.”

 

Another Ball Game.

A GAME, new to this country, but popular
among lads in British schools, has just been
introduced among the boys at the William Penn
Charter School, on Twolfth street, Philadelphia.
It is denominated “FchS,” though why is a
mystery even to the players. It is, in some re-
spects,similar to the “ hand ball "of a generation
ago. The prerequisites for the fa me are a back
and side wall, from tWelve to fteen feet high,
a chalked boundary line on the opposing angles,
and a small, hard ounce~ball an inch in diameter.
Two or four persons can play, each couple form—
ing a side. The player who “ strikes off ” a ball
is called the “server,” and the players of
the opposing side are designated “ receivers.”
Against the back wall, three feet abOVe the
pavement, is a black surbasc. The “server”
throws the ball against the wall in such a way
that in returning it will strike within arms
length. As it bounds he strikes it with his open

aim, driving it against the Wall again. If the
hall strikes below the surbase the “ server ” re-
tires and one of the opposing side becomes
“server.” If, however, the ball strikes fairly,
he or his partner watches its return and en—
deavors to strike in such a way that in rebound-
ing. it will avoid the “ receivers ” and fall
“ dead.” Every time the “receivers” allow the
ball to slip past them the “ server’s ” side scores
one, so that the great aim of the former is to
keep the ball continually bounding. If a “re.-
ceiver” hurtles the ball in such a way as to
strike below the black line, that also counts one
against his side. The game is a short one, and
is usually limited to fifteen points, though any
limit may be played. At Eton, Rugby and
other English schools “Fives Courts ” are part
of the sporting paraphernalia, and many of the
players are able to keep the ball bounding for a
quarter of an hour at a stretch.

“

Focused Pacts.

 

M iNivnso'rA‘s butter product for 1883 v in
nearly reach 18 000,000 pounds, worth $5,300 000.
A POCKET of quartz was recently found in
Amador county, California, one hundred feet be

low the surface, containing about $75,000 worth
of gold.
ENGLAND spends six times as much
wars, actual and possible, as she does for ed uca

tion. France spends fifteen times as much, and
Russia eighty times as much.

JAPAN has the cheapest postal service in the
world, despite the difficulties of transportation.
’ tters are cmweyed all over the empire for two
sen, about seven-tenths of a cant.

THE public schools of South Carolina the past
year contained 74,157 white and 98 938 colored
pupils, making a total of 173 095. This is an in-
crease of 27,127 over the previous year.

THE days of fabulous rates of interest in
California seem to be past. The. savings-banks
in San Francisco are lending money on mort

gages at six per cent. and paying the mortgage
tax, and yet they cannotfiud a market for more
than a third of their money.

THE Immigration Association in California
reports that 47, 274 passengers other than first~
class arrived in that State last year. Of these,
20.000 went to Oregon and the territories. lVilli
emigrants steadily pouring into California. the
association claims that there are still 20,000,-
000 acres of public land fit for agriculture.

FEW people reflect upon the fa of that the In
dians are the richest landholders in the United
States. We linVe 237.64in of them, exclusive of
the Alaska Indians, holding 151.307 7‘68 acres of
land. Some of the tribes Own 3.000 acres per
indian. The average is about one square mile
to each Indian, while a white man is not al—
lowed to preémpt more than 160 acres of the
public land.

THE State Geologist estimates the bird popu-
lation of VVisconsiu at sixty—six per square mile.
or 3 565,000 for the State. Each bird is as-
sumed to eat fifty insects a day, or 6,000 for the
summer. Hence all the birds will consume 21 -
384,009,000 insects in a year. Such an estimate
gives a sufficiently startling idea of the influ-
ence that the feathered population exercise ov:»r
the insect life of a district.

THE last of the Modoc. Indians of Lava Beds
fame, a writer in the St. Louis Globe Dcnmcraf
says, dwell on a tract of 4.000 acres near the
village of Seneca, on the dividing line between
the Indian Territory and Missouri. There are
twenty-six families, numbering 106 persons.
They are losing their warlike character, and
are becoming agriculturists, and in doing this
they are still assisted by the General Govern-

money for

 

against himself, or elface for himself! It is the they retaining their original color. When she

 

 

  

ment, which sulfides rations and an instructor

is striking. Quite as
often the face will be entirely brown and the

tion that the negroes of the South know little
It is not only difficult, tut
impossible, to displace the banjo-playing Slag-e
is
not only so at the North, but in a great measure
The first song Mr. Harris ever
learned was" a. string of nonsense with the
chorus, “ l'm gwine to Alabama, wid my banjo
. on my kneel” There was another, inwbich a
negro, who was supposed to have lost his Nelly
Gray, declared he would “ take his banjo down
and sing a little song.” Nelly, in the .mean
~ time, was down in Georgia “a-toiling inhtho
un-
dreds of similar ones, Were written by white
men who knew even less about the negro than
they did about met‘er: but the ditties were sung
all over the country, and there was nobody in
the South unwilling tolaugh good-humoredly at
the idea of a negro toiling in the cane of Geor-
Tlie banjo he has
never seen a plantation negro play. He has

and the life, and blow a tin trumpet with sur-

Idol;" “His Big SOC
SDI”: Qllal‘t‘nrsz" .i ,

which was made of
tions,

LITTLE LAD.
cards by sending

their voices, put
water and let it diss

scenes.
Gno. J. G.

Gray-snow tribe.

FELIX. You had no
that you considered
prove that shcis one.
right in resenting it.

desired to ta 'e leave.

ridicule‘ them.
nice household.
graplralbum in which

anything into it.

AUSTRALIA.

Yes: it is a nice drink

claret, one quart of Hi

of mourning.

 

ropeun and American

harmless, as you say

site. It grows upon

while making a call up

knowing his habits, ki

yond public obscrvati

in public places where
CHARLIE.

makes a fat gi‘aveyart

fields quite

county or .
ship at West Point.

CLAUnius. The little
is robably n hon-hon l
a Orb/'01:]; i/ re.

used for the throat, or

while a lady in his prt-s
very aged man should

this respect.

Cumous READER. l.

flancfie a ring sl-e should g
is general among all 

engagement rings.
finger of her left hand,

(either with or without

ten.
just previous to New

as ianicd to have the

it looks as if you (lid it i,
say- - lliougli—r- large

cost.

JEAN l’Ai'i.
tion of the.

or otherwise
title must be
the title.
ticin of the
the. copyright.

two copies as required
and you will incur a

cumstances will permit.

you choose to the lady,

it in Brai'arit’s Afr/sicx/
Brainard (Cleveland) for, delivery to purchaser.

You may acknowledge Christmas
Christmas cards in return, or by a
note of thanks.——When your canaries seem to lose
pure rock-cahndy in their drinkin
T is
fectual remedy; but if it fails,
change of scene. Move them to windows in adif—
fereiit room, and that open out upon different

Unabridged Dictionary.
and means leagued, all
Sioux-the name given

HUSBAND. Our advice
nice habits and instinct

to write or draw is a very
to cherish, if it is understood t

“ Chum
drink prepared by niixln
one quart of sodii—wa
Jamaica rum, and sugar to taste.

well iced, and may he served from

Day.——” Clat'ehcup ” is made

carry small confections or

A foreigner w
any woman, however lowly, with a seat.

When 'a gentleman gives his
ive lnm one: such a custom

lie.

Year
at home on New Year Day,
have you call; and you must cisher call or send her
your card through the mail upon that day. l.
About, (he propriety of leaving the ticket
an article sent as a gift there is a. variety of opinion,
If you rub off the price—mark it looks on
cost of the article
the contrary, if you leave it on

Hunting. drawing,
uury. or mor o-l or design fora
for which copyright is desired. must be

two complete copies must be so
free labels, furnished by the. Librar'

0nd;!, ‘t

letter the
Body Guard ," “ Evenin
cilla;” “A Ball ing Callz”
Speeds;" “'l‘he- oys in Whitof’ “Special and Se-
lect;” ” Leap Year Leaps;” “Before
etc.; “Alas to Part!” .

MYRA MYRTLE. Competitors are not restricted to
one contribution in the. Prize Competition.

ANDY. The new year, 1884, is leap year, and we
suppose leap-year parties will
popular fancy that one year in
and maidens’ privileges are n

Prr’rsauno, PA. You can give any entertainment
if she will accept of it.
course some married lady must help you do the
honors—It is cxecrable taste for men to wear pre-
cious stones while at business. Such costly jewelry
is for wearing evenings and upon dressy occasions.
—A handsome sardonyx ring costs from $20 to $50.

J. D. MUNN. Violins grew

various

olve.

 

Correspondents” Column.

[This column is open to all correspondents. in-
quiries answered as fully and as promptly as cir-
Contributions not en tcred
as "declined" may be considered accepted. No
MSS. returned unless stamps are inclosedl

Declined: "The Diggerstown Bonanza;” “ A Red
Day:“ “ Gold Gubef’ ‘ ' Theo's Subsidiary ;” “ A Soft

Babe Bountiful;” “In
11 Cliains;” “ Eugenie’s

gs and Evoningsf’ “ To Pris-

“\Vlie-n the Traveler

’Tis Too Late,"

be in vogue, as it is a
four young men‘s

ll reversed.

of

out of the ancient viol,
sizes by different na—

and usually had but three strings. The violin
pro er was invented or manufactured in Italy by
the 'enetiuns and Florentines, about A. n. 1275.——Tlie
best way for you to sell an old violin is to advertise
l Wmld and leave it with

is generally an eff-
give them entire

It is not necessary that a candidate for
West Point should be a native of the United States.
‘—No Jesse oblige signifies that
poses obligations accordingly. "— Qmma’ meme. means
“ even so."—~Sec list of phrases as given in “’ebstcr’s
—-Dakota (Dahcotah) is Sioux
ied. The word Iowa is also
by them to the Pahojas or

I‘

rank or position im-

right to tell the young lady
her a. flirt, unless you could
It was insultin , and she was

onl

for a

, but violent]
emetic.—Mlstlct0e is an

We should so.

evergreen p ant— lit a

, You should apo ogize, and en-
deavor to win her regard again, or else
contented to discontinue the intimacy—if a lad
receives you in her parlor, and does not seat horse!
you must not resume your seat.
stands you must stand.
ment was a mf: ctly clan- intimation t

you must be

As long as she
such treat-
at you were

is to gratify all your wife‘s
s that you can, and not to
The use of finger-bowls at every
meal, especially after dinner,
gant custom that should be

is a neat and. ele—
common in every

Buy a dozen plain glass finger-
bowls, or the assorted colored ones and surprise
your wife with them on her birthday—An auto-
one’s friends are asked
esirable book to have and

but no one must wpy

Every line should be an original
wish, sentiment, or description.

pagne-cu p "

is a. delicious

g two quarts of chnmpnflm
ter, one claret-glarist of

This should be
a punch-bowl.

mrty or for New Year
or mixing twoqnurts of
xiii-water,
and a small tumbler of brandy.

Or. in summer, fresh sliced cucumbers um
stead of lemons «You do not make
nor many social ones, during your

sugar to taste, icc,
In it slice lcmons.
used in-
an y forinul culls,
llrst few months

CHESTER 0. Holly and mistletoe are I) no means
the same thing, though it is true that hot
iarly Christmas emblems.
tree and shrub, of the c

are pecul-

I‘lolly in an ever 'i'ccn.
nus Item. There is but. I lllu-
olly. The
Both have gloss ' green leaves
get red about C ristmas-tlmc.

differ somewhat.
am bear berries that

The berries are. not
pur alive and
para-

trces, and bears a glutinous

berry. It was only when it was found
upon which it rarely grows—that it was consider ed
an object. of veneration by
ToM. For a gentleman to smoke, or ask to smoke,

on a lady,
of rudeness. It is excessively rude, too. for a man
to smoke while acting as escort

the

ndly

on ,

man

upon an oak-—

Druids.

would be the liight

to a lady. If she,

I . rivcs him permission to
light a Cigar, he should not ( 0

so until they are be-

_ I ‘ as other people. seeing
ini smoke while walking wil

down as a woman for whom he felt little or no re-
spect. The best rule, for a
to be thoroughly gentlemanly,

11 her, might set her

to follow who wishes
is not to smoke at all

ladies are, or in the presence

1-77

of ladies, unless by favor in the home circle.
The “ proph cy,”
bably the old proverb that ‘

as you call it, is pro-

‘A green Christmas
This arose from the con-
viction that cold winter weather, in December, was
far healthier than the mild weather that leaves the
re on even up to Cl’iristmiis.—You Will
haw to app y to some promine

nt politician of your

tale. in order to get nominated for cadet-
lf once you get a nomination
you must go through an Entrance
fore your case can be decided n
of the Secretary of War, in Wash
by letter or pchonal application, you will be sup-
plied with delails of the matter.

Examination. be-
on. At the office
ngton, D. 0., either

metal box to which you refer

)ox : or,

for per!

ence eta

else to say that other men do so.

as the French cull it,

Foreigners use. them constantly, to
lozenges in, such as are

inning the breath.—

It is perfectly proper for three ladies to go to a (lor-
mnn together, as they go in a
Havirg secured an inti oduc
your Sister to call upon hi r.
er '0 accompany yourself and
place of entertainment.--lt is rude for a man to sit

private carriage.—

tion to the lady. take
You may then invite

sister to the desired

ncls, nor is it any cx-

Orly a sick or

sit wl ile a woman stands.

Our American men are notorionvsly ill-mannered in
cold instantly supply

oung people who can afford

some g

to their Indy friends at New Your :
not practice, indicating that the lady is no

and

7

wears hers on the third
and be his u
fourth finger of his left hand. 2. t is
among many gentlemen to send their visiting-card

on the third I r
customary

rceting written on it.)
and it is a pleas-
t forgo:-

3. If you receive a visiting-curd from a lady
it means that she will he

would be pleased to

of piiccon

if you were
. ‘ known; on
and it is a big m'cc.

oboosio: lulions. We a iould

, or small, lvuvn it on: as a
should be valued for the giwr‘s sukc
Ever so small a trifle
amount of thought and love.
style to leave price-marks on wedding presents.

A [Ir/Mm! copy of the title of on"
book. mop, chart, ili'ninulicul or musical composi-
tion, engravinir, cut, prim, photograph, or a descrll»
cliromo, statue. stut-
woi'k of the fine

0“
a

gift
and not for its

Hill)" "it‘ll" J’ll llllllN‘llNO

It is said to be llm

iii-lei.
sent by mail

prepaid. and addressed “Librarian of
Congress, Washington, I). (
made of ii written title, but a co )yol’ the

sent previous to publication.
lar must be inclosed in the letter,
certificate of co yright under seal of the
of Congress, wh ch will be transmitted to j

No entry can be
printed
One dol-
fifty cents for a
Librarian
’ou by an

curly mail, and a fifty-cent fee for the rccoullig ( f
Then. within ten days after ill

6 publicu~

book (or whatever the article may bc)
nt pr.-paid (or undo-r

run) to pr rfect

Adams“ “W30 as you ad lr as i l t l .
application letter. if you should fdll ( .- u h

to the melt llicso

the ci»l?'i'iglit will be Void.

penalty 0

will secure to you the exclusive

ty-eight curs.
end of t at time. you,
may secure a renown

 

in agriculture. 0st of them speak English.

such record and a ce

ears—You can legally
instrument of writing. but. such
be recorded in the office of the
gress within sixty days from its data.

the book or article copyrighted

or
1 f or ill
assign

rtlficate is one dollar.

$25. A copyri'lit
right of publish ng
fornierni of twcn<

And within six months before the
your widow or chlldrrn.

c term of fonriwn
a cv-p night by any
ass gnnient iniist
Librarian of (“11-
The fee for

 

 

 

 

  

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Fireside Ballads.
JOHN_ AND SARY’S NEW YEAR
RESOLUTIONS.

BY II. II

.9

 

JOHNSON.

“ Well. Sary, the old year is over;
Its last day has (mine to an end,
And I feel, when I look back upon it,
‘Sif I stood by the grave of a friend.
We‘re just one year older now. Sary,
Than we were when the dead year was born;
And we’ve fell, much of joy and of SOI‘I‘OW
Since we welcomed the last, New Year’s morn.

“ I’ve, been thinkin’ and planniii’ this iiinrnin’
How to make this year happier than last,
And I’ve ct'pncluded to do some things (lif‘reiit

From what. I have. done in the past.
I thought we’d both talk it. all over,
For we’ve both got our failin‘s, we, know,
And huin’t lived as we ought to together—
Though we‘d be mad if our neighbors said so.

“ I know that I‘m terribly spunky,

And sometimes git awfully mud

And say things that I hadn’t ought to
That make. me. and you both feel bad;

But I’m goin’ to try. the year comin’,
To govern my spunk if I can;

I s’posc I shall find it some trouble,
But ’twill make me a happier man.

“ I know when it comes to house-cleaiiin’,
And stovi- pipes seem bound not to fit,
It’s hard for a man with a temper
To keep the full mastery of it;
But I‘ll try jest my puttiest, Sary,
When house-cleanin’ time comes ag‘in,
To choke down my mis’able temper,
And the Lord helpin‘ me, I shall win.

“ I’m gittin’ a habit of swearin’—
Not cussin’ right out like some do,
But ’twill git into that I am certain,
So I’ll put my foot down on that, too.
I’ve got quite a taste for hard cider,
And sometimes drink more than I should;
So I’ll stop while the habit is growin’,
For I know it dOn’t do me no good.

“ And, Sary, one thing I have noticed,

That isn’t jest as it should be,

The children and you don’t wear clothin’
As good as the neighbors, I see.

I don’t b’lieVe in dressin’ too costly,
And pilin’ too much on yer back,

But I find that, in lookin’ it over,
There’s a good many clothes that you lack.

“ So to-day we’ll go down to the village
And take all the children along,
And git each a new suit 0’ clothin’,
That's comfortable, tasty, and strong.
I know that ’twill please the poor children;
And ’twill please you, too, Sary, I guess,
If I buy on a new—fangled bonnet,
A cloa , and a nice Sunday dress.

“ And we‘ll try, through the year jest commencin’,

To each live a different life;

I’ll do what I can as a husband,
And you do the same as a wife.

And then, on next New Year’s mornin’,
If we live till that day shall come,

We’ll tell, with our hearts full 0’ gladness,
How the good Lord has blessed our dear

home.”

SARY.

“ Yes, John, I know We haven’t lived

Just as we ought to do;

I’ve got some failin’s, I confeSs,
To mend, as well as you;

And since you've brought the matter up,
We’ll both do all we can

To mend our failin’s and our faults
And live on the new plan.

“ I know I’ve got a temper, too,
That isn’t very mild;
It makes me say and do what’s wrong
Sometimes, when I get r‘ilcd:
But. I will try. the coiniii’ year,
To keep niy temper down;
Whenc’er I ‘eel it risiii' up,
I'll smile instead of frown.

“ I know sometimes when I’ve worked hard

And didn‘t feel jest right,

I haven't always spoke to you
As leasant as I might.

But, ohn. I mean to try my best
'l‘nrongh this new year to come

To be more pleasant, and to make
Our house a happy home.

“ I‘ve thought, sometimes when you came in

From workin’ hard all day,

And set so sober in your chair
And not a word you’d say— .

The thought would creep into my mind,
Your love was growin cold;

"l‘would make me jealous of you, John,
And I’d git mad and scold.

“ I thought, as I was growin’ old,

My brown hair turnin’ gray,

You‘d found some other one you loved
And I stood in the way.

And, John, it almost broke my heart
To think it might be so;

But I was wrong; I feel it now,
For you are true, I know.

” I know I haVen’t alwa s been

Contented with my 0t, .

When I would see our neighbors’ Wives
Wear things that I had not.

I thought you ‘most too stingy, John;
Perhaps the thought was true;

I didn‘t think the savin’ was
For me as Well as you.

“ Well, let our past misdeeds all go

With the old year that’s done,

And start a new and better life
With the New Year begun.

We’ll ask the Lord to help us, John;
We can't succeed alone, _

And then the year for us “'1” be
A long, sweet honeymoon.”

The Pink of the Pacific;
The Adventurélf a Stowaway.
BY OLIVER OPTIC.

 

 

CHAPTER X.
TREACHERY FOR Two.

THREE of the storm-st, of [no men had been se-
lected from the. crew of the American Continent
to seize the chief, and two of the weaker ones
to attend to Boo‘fiehl, who was not expected to
make a very violent. resistance. As soon as the
visitors were fairly on the deck, these men did
their duty. The sailors on the ml] were told to
see that no more Malays came up from the boat.
The chief wasinclined to make a sharp struggle;
but the onslaught was so sudden that he had no
time to gather himself up before he was com-
pletely overpowered. Bodfield madesome show
of resistance as if to satisfy the chief that he

, was not a traitor.

  
 
 
  
 
  

As soon as the two visitors were overcome,
and the arms of the great man of the Malays
were bound behind him, the chief wanted to
have a talk on the subjact. He used the most
energetic language, though no one but Bodfield
could understand him. He seemed to be utter-
ing a protest against the treatment he had re—
ceived. .

“ What is be talking about, Pink?” asked

ain Milford.
083T don’t know, sir; I have not been long
enough among the Malays to learn their lingo,”
replied Pink. “ Mr. Bmfield can tell you.”

When he found that his speech wasrotunder-
stood, the chief turned to Bodfield, and talked
to him in the same energetic manner, shaking
his head violently in the absence of free hands
to make his gestures with. He. was a man of
over fifty, and his hair wasquite gray. If he
had not been a Malaya he 1girlnglht 5312:3132? con-

' di nified an no e- 00 in _ ‘.
“933%; dges he say?" asked Captain Milford,
i to Bodfield. .
tufinH'egsa 5 he came here under the white flag,
and you have violated its sacred obligations.
He demands that you release him at once, and
atone for the outrage,” said Bodfield.

“Those proas are moving toward us all the
time,” said Rollins, who was on the lookout for
the safety of the ship. “ They are movmg d0wn
u on us like so man cats:

p“ That’s a part of 3the plan,” added Bodfield.
“ What do you intend to do with the chief? It

 

is about time for you to look out for the safety Fed the plan to which he had resorted to get

of the ship.”

This speech assured the. captain that Boifield
was not an enemy, as he had supposed he was
not after what Pink had said and done. He did

been asked to go through this farce.
“ I had not considered what I should do with
him,” replied Captain Milford. “ He is a pirate,

l
l

away from them.
The fleet of proas was watched with the great-
est anxiety. Bonfield was not at all sure that

,the plan to avoid another fight would be suc-
not understand the situation; and he could not ;
see, if Bodfield was not a. pirate, why he had '

and the best thing to do with him is to hang ‘

him at the fore-yard arm for the benefit of the
rest of the villains."
“ I hope you will not do that, captain,” said

Bodfield. “ He savcd my life once when I asked l

him to do so,”

“ And you saved Pink’s, I suppose; and I will
do anything that is reasonable, if you will say
what is best.”

“ He has always used me. Well, though I know
he has been a pirate for years, as all his people
are:

“ I have an idea; and we will talk it over
with him, if you will put what I say into his
lingo. I will cast you loose when you say the
word,” continued the captain.

“ He looks upon me as being in the same situ-
ation as hiniSelf; and I am willing he should
think so for the present,” replied Bodfield. “ I
{will translate anything you wish to say to
iim.’

“ Tell him he had better send his proas back
where they came from,” said Captain Milford.

The interpreter gave this remark to the chief
in Malay. The prisoner heard it, and his lip
curled with disdain. Then he spoke with a fury
which indicated the fire that burned in him at
the. treatment he had received.

“He says the proas shall capture this ship,
and his people shall cut the throats of eVery per-
son on board of her,” was the English of what
he said.

“ Tell him if he does not send them off I will
hang him at the fore yard—arm as a w rning to
the pirates,” added, the captain, with energy;
“ and I’m not sure that isn’t What I ought to do
with him.”

At first the chief defied the captain to hang
him ; but he had no greater fancy for being hung
than more civilized beings have. Then he had a
long pow-wow with Bodfield, who solemnly us-
snred him that both of them would swing it the
yard-arm; and he intimated that he was not
willing to take the position assigned to him.

“ He wants to know what you will do with
him after he has sent the proas away,” inquired
Bodfield.

“I am willing to give his life to save a great
many others.

3 shared by both.

ccsstul. The Malay chief, next in authority to
Tonkoa, was jealous of his superior, and would
be glad to get rid of him. There were two
tribes, or leagues, of the pirates, betWeen which
there was an understanding that neither should
interfere with the plunder of the other till aid
was needed: and then that the booty should he
The present fleet belonged to

5 Tonkoa and his tribe, who had come to the as-

 

If the proas are out of sight in ’

sistance of lhose who had firstattucked the ship.
Bodtield was doubtful whether those who had
lost their proas n cold be content to retire with
nothing after they had fought so long and with
so great 105s. The two tribes Were often at war
with each other, and a bad state of feeling pre-
vailed among them. Tonkoa and his tribe had
beaten the other in their last encounter, and the
party of the lest proas were very sore at their
defeat—the affair for which Borlfield had fur-
nished the plan. There was no such thing as
good faith among them; and they kept their
trea‘ ies only as long as it was for their interest
to do so. Tonkoa had enemies in his own party;
and all the other tribe hater] him.

“I think you had better have your guns ready
for u5e,” said Bodfield, when he had explained
the relations of the tribes. “The chances are
that you will have to fight the proas, or a part
of them. I don’t think the chief expects them
to haw.”

“ If we must fight, we must,” replied Captain
Milford; “ but I have had enough of it.”

The twvlve ponnders were in readiness for
immediate use, as they had been since the first
at pearance of the proas. Every man was in his
place. for he knew that his life depended upon
his own fidelity, as well as upon the good man-
agement of the veteran commander. Fett- r—
hone had done duty as a seainan since the cap-
tain reduced him; and he was as active and
obedient as any man in the ship.

“They are making some kind of a row in the
proas,” said Pink, who had been out on the end
of the. spanker-boom, the nearest point to the
enemy.

“ What docs it appear to be?” asked Bod—
field.

“The three proas are all in a heap; and I can
hear the pirates yelling as though they were all
mad.”

“ I heir that.”

“There’s something more that sounds like a
scuffle,” added Pink.

“They are fighting among themselves, and

“‘5‘“ ,'

 

appeared to be a change of crews in progress.
All three of them soon came together, and after
more yelling and gesticulation, the change
seencd to be completed.

“Can you tell what they are about?” asked
Captain Milford, turning to Bodfield.

"I think I can; and you had better call all
hands,” replied the ex captain of the proa.
“They have divided into two parties; and one
of them will be likely to attack the ship. Part
of them wanted to obey the chief in our hands,
and the others would not consent. You may
have to negotiate with one, and fight the
other."

Captain Milford ordered the mate to call all
hands, and in a moment the men were at their
stations, for they had slept lightly, expecting to
be called at any moment. It was s30n evident,
as Bodfield had supposed, that the pirates had
composed their differences, or that one party
had been whipped out by the other. Those in
two of the proas obeyed 'l‘onkoa, or at least
were ready to do so, while those in the third in-
tended to ignore him. This last vessel was the
largrst in the fleet; and she began to move to—
ward the ship.

“ L'indoka is in that proa,” said Bodfield.

“ Who’s he?” asked the captain.

“He is next in command to Tonkoa; I told
you about him,”replied Bodfield. “ He will at-
tack the ship for the purpose of making you
hang Tonkoa,as you threatened; and I hope
you will not oblige him by doing it.”

“ Certainly not, if that is the situation.”

“ Landoka is the biggest scoundrel in the
crowd. But there is a boat coming from the
other proas: and it is the one that brought Ton-
koa on board.”

“I think we had better bring the chief on
deck, and let him see the lay of the land,” said
the captain.

“A good idea,” assented Bodfield.

Rollins and Fetterb'one were instructed to do
this. The bonds of Tonkoa were loosed, for he
was much subdued by his confinement. Bod—
field told him all that had been done on board
of the proas. The prisoner used some very
energetic language; but it related to the treason
of Landoka, in the large proa. While they
were talking together the small boat from' the
two proas came alongside, and the messenger
was permitted on deck.

Landoka took up a position in the big proa
about as far from the other two as from the
ship. Bodfield thought the changes had made
some vacancies among his officers, and that he
had hauled off to get ready for the action.

The big chief had a long talk with his mes-
senger, to which Bodfield listened with interest.

 

Captain Bodfield and Pink on their way to the brig.

the morning, and I have a good breeze so that I
can get out of the way, I will release him. He
shall go as soon as I can he assured of the safety
of the ship,”replied Captain Milford. “ I think
this is a fair offer, don’t you .3”

“I think it is;and I will tell him what you
say,” added Bodfield. “I shall add that you
will not let me go because I am an American.”

“ Well, I wouldn’t let a white man go with
those pirates, even if he wanted to do 50,” added
the captain, with enthusiasm.

Another long talk took place between the
chief and his fellow—prisoner.

“ He says he will agree to your terms if you
will let me go with him,” said Bodfield, with a
smile. “ But I know you won’t do it.”

“ Tell him I will hang you both before I will
do that: and I feel as though I should do a white
man a kindness to hang him rather than send
him back to those villains,” answered the cap-
tain‘.

Bodfield reported the answer to the chief, and
told him he was not afraid to stay in the ship;
and that when he got to Samarang he could
easily get away. The pow-wow ended in the
terms being accepted.

“ But how are we to manage this thing,” ask-
ed Captain Milford. “How can we get at the
proas to send them back?”

“ We can let one of the men in the boat come
on deck, and take the message of the chief. to
‘the proas. The boat can return for_the chief,
and wait till you are ready to give him up."

" Try him on that; and ask him how he llk‘f-S
the idea,” said Captain Milford. _

“ He don’t like the plan,” replied Borfield,
when he had stated it to the chief. “ He proui~
ises that, if you will allow him to return to :is
proa, he will not make another attack on the
ship: but I advise you not. to trust him,”

“I shall take your advice; and you can tell
him what you please." added the captain.

The chief yielded the point after considerable
discussion with Bodfield. He gave the name of
the man in the boat whom he wished to be his
messenger. Bodfield called the man, and he
came on deck. .

“Tell him his neck shall be stretched if thr-re
is any treachery,” said the Captain. “ You had
better make a note of what he says to the ones-
senger.” . . .

Bodfield listened to the instructions the chief
gave to the messenger; but he did not seem to
be quite satisfied with them. He told the Malay
that both the chief and himself would be sacri-
ficed if the agreement was not fairly carried

ou‘t‘.Tell them if the proas come any nearer I
shall open fire on them,” interposed the cap-
in. .
taThe bearer of the chief’s orders departed, and
the boat rowed back to the proas, which were
now not more than an eighth of a mile from the
ship. The chief, Tonkoa, was conducth to a
place of confinement between decks, where he
was made fast to a stanchion. He was care-
fully bound by the mate. so that it.was next to
impossible for him to get 100:6. Ain't-er this was
done, Bodfield was released. He :‘emi'5'd the his

tory of his life among the Malays, and taxpiuiii- .

 

they must settle the row before they meddle
with the ship,” continued Bodfielvl.

“ lVe can stand that as long as they can,” said
Rollins, with a laugh.

"I think you may let a part of your crew
turn in now, Captain Milford,” suggested Bod-
field. “"here will be no fighting for the pres-
em."

There was no more that night.

CHAPTER XI.
THE BEAUTIFUL BRIG.

THE watch on the deck a- d in the rigging of
the American Continent strained their eyes all
the rest of the long night to discover what was
going on in the prms. The yelling which Pink
first reported was kept up till midnight: but
after that time nothing \vss heard from the
pirates. Possibly thev had settled their differ-
ences; but certainly they did not obey the or-
ders of the chief, who was a prisoner on board
of the ship.

The daylight was anxiously awaited to enable
the Ameri wins to obtain a solution of the prob
lem. When it came, Captain Milford was Called
in obediohCa to the orders he had given when he
turned in. Hodfield and Pink, Worn out by their
exertions the night before, were still asleep. The
captain surveyed the proas with a critical eye:
but he obtained no information in regard to
them. They w re not so close together as when
he had last observed them. The Malays ap-
peared to be asleep; and nothing that louked
like life could be seen. Possibly they had fOiight
among themselves till they were bxhausted, and
were now restitg upon it. A few hours more
would di‘closc what they intended to do.

“Did you notice a sail to the sou’hward of
us, (Lptain Milford 2” asked Fetterhone, in the
most respectful tones.

“ Na: what is it?” demanded the old man.

' “I can‘t make her out; but she must have
bash where. she is now all night.”

The captain examined the vessel with his glass,
and trace her out to be a small brig.

“She had better be Somewhere else,”added
the veteran, shaking his head. “ Them proas
will make quick work of her, for she is very tow
in the water."

“ Then these rascals can pour in man enough
upon her duck to overcome her in a moment,"
answered Fetter-bone.

“ I think she is getting a brecz): and if she is,
she will bring it up with her,”ccniioued the
captain, as he examined her again through his

lass.

“ But there seems to be a stir on the decks of
the proas," said Fettcrbooe, turning to the Ma.—
laws.

In factagrr‘at deal of noise came from the
proas all of a sudden. While the captain was
obcrq-ving the energy Bffl‘lfield (film? out of 
cabin. He had turned in about midnight; but
he was too anxious to sleep ion-2 after daylight.
“'henhe had listened to the Sounds from the
proaK f-i-r awhile, he was satisfi-d that the Ma-
l-icc u'of‘él still quarreling among themselves.
T' ‘ willy-L: our! other evidcnc-‘s of the strife
continua-1 an ‘rnnr longer: and then the biggest
Vts‘se‘i moved up to one of the others. There

 

 

 

It was a narrative of what had occurred on
board of the proas; but the other Americans
were not concerned about it. Then What the
chief had to say to the captain was translated
to h in.

“He says his people have rebelled against
him; and he cannot prevent the proa of Lan-
doka from attacking the ship,” said the inter-
preter. “ But if you will allow him to return
to the two proas that are faithful to him he will
do all he promised.”

“ That will be rather risky, won’t it?” asked
the prudent captain.

“I don’t think it will,” answered Bodfield.
“The Malays in the two proas will stand by
Tonkoa in any fight with Landoka.”

“Then let him go,” said the captain. “We
are going to have a breeze; and if I have enough
of it i don’t care for all the proas this side of
sundown.” - _

The chief was unbound, and allowed to de-
part in the boat. Bodfield told him 5 uarely
that, under the circumstances, he had ecided
to return to his own country in the ship. The
boat pulled back to the two proas, Where Ton-
koa was greeted with the usual yells. The M9.-
lays in these vessels hated Landoka; and the
had left the bigproa for this reason, so that I
who hailed him were not his former enemies.
In less than ten minutes the oars of the two
proas were at work, and they were headed to
Landoka’s vessel. Each had its nine-pounders;
and fire was opened at once upon her. She re-
turned it; but the two proas continued to 8p
proach her, and pour in the shot. In a short
time the proas were all in a heap, and a hand
to—hand fight began, which had not lasted more
than a quarter of an hour before a tremendous
yell announced the victory of the old chief.

By this time the breeze filled the sails of the
American Continent. The wind increased till
the ship made about four knots an hour; but
this was not enough to enable herto keep out of
the way of the proas if they were still disposed
to attack her. The beautiful brig, which had
been seen early in the morning, was now only a
couple of miles from the ship, and was headed
direct for her. As the American Continent be-
gan to go ahead, it was observed that the brig
changed her course so as to come 11 with her.

“ She wants to speak us,” said Captain Mil-
ford.

“She sees those proas ahead of her, and she
don’t care to fall afoul of them,” added Rollins,
to whom the remark was addressed.

“She has a signal of distress at her mast—
head!” exclaimed the captain, after he had
brought his glass to bear upon her. “ She has
been working up this way all the morning.”

“She is afraid of the proas; and if she is not
armed. they will make quick work of her,” said
Bodfield, taking the glass.

“ She has her stu’n-sails set. slow and aloft,
and as she is going free she will soon be within ,
speaking distance,”added the captain. “ I don’t
think she would show a signal of distress on ac-
count of those proas: for she must have seen
them two hours ago, and could have got out of
the way with the wind she has bad.”

“ She is a. magnificent vessel,” said Bodfield.

with enthusiasm. “ Look at her how! She is
sharp enough to shave a dandy; and everything
about her is as clean and taut as on board of a
man~of—war. She is armed, and has her guns
run out._ 1 can see three of them on the star-
board s1de; and that will make six in all, at
least.”

“ And she is not short handed, for I can see
more than a dozen men on her forecastle,” added
Captain Milford. “ Probably she is short of
prOVisions, or something of that sort.”

“The proas are making for her!” exclaimed
Rollins, who kept a close watch of the Malays.

“ So they are!" replied the captain, taking a
look at the vessels of the enemy. “Brace up
the yards, Rollins. and we will shorten the dis-
tgncefis much as possible between her and the
5 1p.

“ The brig has three ladies on her (I ck,” said
Bod field, looking through the captain‘s glass.

“‘ Then the greater the need of getting up
with her,” replied the gallant old man.

l he ship was braced sharp up, so that she was
headed to the southwest, while the brig was go-
ing northwest. The proas were using both oars
and soils: but they were on the port quarter of
the ship, and double her distance from the brig.
The chances were that the American Continent
would speak the beautiful craft before the proas
could come up with her. All hands whistled for
more wind, but it was very slow in coming.

“That brig seems to have everything she
wants,” said Captain Milford, who kept one eye
on her, and the other on the proas. “She is fit-
ted out in fancy style, and painted white in-
board. I haven’t seen her colors.”

“How do you know but she’s a pirate?” said
Pink, closely observing all that was said and
done, trough he did not often say anything, as
became. a boy of his age.

“Pirates don’t often sail the seas with ladies
on their decks; and they are not apt to set a sig-
nal of distress when they want anything; they
help themselves,” replied the captain.

“ Her crew are all dressed in uniform,” added
Bodfield. “ She may be a man-of—war.”

It was no use to conjecture what she was, for
several smart puffs of wind came to the aid of
the vessels, and in a few minutes more they
were within hailing dis.ance of each other. As
the brig rounded up into the wind, and braced
back her maintop-sail, the. American flag was
discovered at her peak. \Vhen the sailors in the
ship saw it, they cheered lustily, and those in
the brig responded.

CHAPTER XII.
THE BELLE OF THE BAY.

“ SHIP ahoy l” shouted some one on the deck
of the brig, as soon as she had come to.

“On board of the brig!” replied Rollins, af-
ter the captain had told him to answer the hail.

“We should like to see the captain of the
ship,” added the officer of the brig.

“ What’s the matter?” demanded the mate of
the American Continent, prompted by the cap-
tain.

“ I will send a boat on board, and tell you all
about it,” answered the officer.

“Don’t do it!” protested the mate. “Don’t
you see those proas? They will capture your
vessel if you don’t keep your eyes open.”

This answer seemed to produce the greatest
consternation on board of the beautiful vessel,

for her officers appeared to have no idea of the
character of the pirates. Hasty orders were
given by the person who had hailed the ship.

“We want a navigator,” he shouted, a mo-
ment later; and while he spoke there was great
activity on the deck of the brig. “We lost our
captain and mate three days ago.”

“ That’s the place for me I” exclaimed Bodfield.
“ But you must go with me, Pink.”

“I’m willing; and that’s just the craft for
me,” replied the boy, his bright eyes lightingup
with pleasure.

“I suppose you won’t object to my going,
Captain M lford?" asked the late pirate captain.

" To be sure I don’t, if you can be of any use

0 the people in the brig. Are you a naviga-

tor 

“ I am; mathematics was my favorite study
in college: and I used all the practical part of
navigation in the whaleship.”

“But why do you want Pink to go with you?”
inquired the venerable commander, who did not
seem to be inclined to part with the boy.

“ Because Pink andl are old friends; I taught
him all he knows, and I am interested in him.
Besides, I am going into a strange vessel, and I
should like to have one friend in her: though I
hope to make friends of all on board of her in
time."

“ All right; as Pink wants to go himself, I am
willing, for I suppose you can make better use
of him than I can,” replied Captain Milford.
“ But I am sorry to part with him."

“ Can you send us a navi ator?" shouted the
officer of the brig. impatienfiy.

“Av, ay, sir! Send your boat for him!” re-
plied Rollins.

In a minute more a boat pulled by four men
dashed up to the gangway of the ship. It was
a gig, and pretty enough to be a fairy barge.
The sailors were in uniform, and pulled a man-
of-war stroke. Bodfield and Pink shook hands
with the captain and with many of the officers
and crew; but the leave-taking was disturbed
by a shot from the proa ahead of the others, di—
rected at the brig, which went wide of the mark,
as the Malay shots generally did. The naviga-
tor and his young friend went down the accom—
modation ladder into the jaunty gig; and a few
1vgigorous strokes of the oars carried her to the

rig.

“What vessel is that 9" asked Bodfield of the
seaman nearest to him.

“The Belle of the Bay; and she hails from
Baltimore,” replied the man.

" Is she a merchantman or a man-of-Wiir?”

“Neither, sir; she’s a yacht; and her owner
and his family are making a voyage in her for
pleasure.”

“This is a bad place for pleasure, for those
proas are pirates,” added Bodfield, as the boat
came alongside the brig.

Bodfield sprung upon the deck, followed by
Pink. He ordered the crew to get the boat up
to the davits as quickly as possible, for the
Eroas were rapidly approaching the Belle of the

oy. As the new navi ator stepped on board,
he was met by an el erly gentleman at the
gangway.

“ Are you a competent navigator?” asked the
owner of the brig, for it was he.

“I think I am. sir: but you will excuse me if
I say that this is not the time to answer ques-
tions; for those proas are pirates, and mean to
capture this vessel if they can.”

" Your name, if you please '5” And the owner
had pluck.

‘ C‘iarles Bozlfield.”

"' Mon. you n ill obey this gentleman as your
commander,” said the gentleman, turning to the
crew, and speaking so that all could hear him.
“Captain Bod field, the vessel is in your charge,
and I 1 ok to you to defend me and my family
from these pirates.”

The crew responded to tlis introduction with
a hearty cheer; but the new commander only
stopped to bow his thanks.

“ Stand by your braccs, my men I” called
Captain Bodfield, sharply. “ Let go and haul!
Right your helm!”

The head sails of the brig caught the wind,
and in a minute she was on her course again.
The order was given to the quartermaster to
make the course northwest. The brig was a.
very fast sailor, and she made about five knots
in that light breeze. But she was hardly on her
course before a shot from the chief’s proa struck
heron the rail, and sent a shower of splinters
flying about the deck. The ladies, who had re-
tired to the cabin when they were conscious
that the vessel was in danger, gave a succession
of screams as the Belle shOck under the shock of
the shot.

“Pink, you are my midshipman: g0 and as-

 

certain who is the mate of the brig, and send
him off," said the captain, as soon as the :hot
struck.
“‘ Who is the mate Q” called Pink, in the waist.
“ There is no mate." replied the man it ho had
hailed the ship. “Both the captain and the
mate were lost together."

 

 

 

 

  
   

 

 

 

 

  

 

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“ Where i; tho sworn-l mate?" lpmunda-d Pick.

“I :1!” the 3—0er lilnie,"roplied the glycine}
E313. ' _
.. men report to “if? (‘ephln

Tag mm Wei-JEN.) tize (puma: . g '
c-i his 61;.) no the new com-Juan icl' in mini)“

 i f _
hi the seennd mate; and here IS no one
abOV-l him," 5:11” l’lnk. m

‘ Your name, my manl'
‘ l ..
 Chiolgg, sir," I‘epllei the second inltl‘,

n'. " ' u 3 u :ilu. I
 :ZII. IMrlzljhiuln. 13mm”: )0” mill“
of this 'vlfusel for me vl'vsw‘} ""f, 1‘ 3’0“ 4”
qualiflgd, yo 1 Sb:lll‘l‘3ilVotlle pull-'6.

“ .; l ' u Sll‘.

 (bégd’wu any men who lmow bop: t?
han‘le the gulls? As Iavlls CH!“ If 6 til-:83.
suppose they have been murc orndvnen a an
USaffii." . _ .

“The men are all sailors sir; thele 15110:?
grembom ammg l-bczll.’ '“Pl'93 151'}- Mil“
heartily and prou'ily. ‘NI‘H‘B man li’ o It
have served iu the navy, lnfl they :ll know bow
to handle the guns, for all thucrov were trained
at them by the unpuain. ~,tio used to 00 it to

‘. m out of ill eneas.
kefipggzm w.ll; for their knowledge may save
the Vessel. Mr. Coinks, you mil bout to quar-
ters.” ‘

The boulswfiu pioad to quarters at the 01 der
of the new first officer: and all halide-were all
their stations in a IDMIIEDC. The. leading pma
was evidently depz-nlioz. more upon her ours
than upon her gun: for the success of her Vil-
laiuous Scheme‘; and she fired only an Occuional

0t from her nine onuler.
ab“L:a.i the gunapof the starboard battery,”
said the cap win.

Toe ammunition wai passed up from the
magazine, and the guns were promptly loaded
under the dirccnon 0! C-linus. who was lllmarlf
an old mm of—war‘s-mun. Trio head pro; was
now on the beam of the brig and the male
pointed the forward gun himself. At his order
it was fired. 'I‘ha la lies: in tho cub-n screamed
with terror as the Vessel suook under the new“
of the lace. ‘

“ Glpgud tell them there is no danger, Pink,”

aid we cu it lin.

s Bofore Pick obeyed the order be h ld seen the
efl’ocl. of two fir t snot from in? Bel». it. bac
struck tie 14min: pro). fair ml we oufiwaler,
and wrec .od the entire how of the Vrsscl.

Pink took off his till-f) 'rml entered the cllbin
0f lire brig. Ha nun-Ali his ey»s as lledizl all:
for he Hall Cchl‘ h- cu in such an cl:g-mt. llpnrt-
m~nt before in his life Bur. no villi 11»? S’Op in
admire it, for she lulies lure SQ-filklilg wrth ter—
l‘br.

“Captain Bxlfield wishas ma in say to the
ladies t WU: there is no dark-r," mi: Pink. in lbe
m 3% scathing Salliex‘ he coulll co mound. “ W.»
firrvd tho.- last shot; and if. km:cm away the
whole bow of the hem pram.” . |

" Is tin new 0 lpzuiu 5 '00 ing at; the pirates?"
asked an elderly lady, «h m the Lubbhipulau
to )k lobe the own~1-’s wife.

“Yes, lnarru‘. and he. will blow them all in
piec:s if they don't, get. out of the Way. IVc
have men and guas enough 1.0 «hp all the
proas in home seas,”replied Pluk, will) euthu
Slasm.

“ But. are we to be in a. battle with the pi
r.1tc;?"asl;a<i the lady.

“Odly till we can got away from them.”

“BM lbs-y may sink the vcwsel."

“NI, marlu; than isn’t the 16131 danger of
than”

Pvnk returned to the dec'z when the next gun
of the b-ltlery was 'IISClIhl'40ll. Thematsmash—
cd info the [)lleOl‘ln of but) pxm, up i a lotuf the
Mullys were luulbled illto the borrom of the
VrSS’fl. They Wel'-- osciled, an.) tllell‘<ilob miss-
ed the marl: «very limo. The Allurin Col:—
Illlvflh opened live on the pirate {lean hill u soon
from One of her guns sun'k another of the

mas, luaklng Very burl work with her bow.

bCSe shots seemed to be on High for the Malay
chief, aud the rower: (lesislol from their work,
The frcs'aeniog bre'rz= filled the s ills of the Sillp
and the brig. ani in u snort time they wern out
of the reach of the enemy. Certainly the pirates‘
had UePn badly punished, esprcraliy by the guns
of the Belle.

“Tout futile is fought, Pink,” said Captain
BOflflcld; “and now Wu cm 10 I: over the brig
and see where we are.”

“I don’t think We could be in any halter
craft,” ruplied Pink, as he cl-lnced at the bean
til‘ul appointments of the Belle of the 131?.

"Noticing betner over fl mted. Bun. P-uk, go
into toe command inform the owner aud his
family that. the ling IS ov»r.”

Tue midily oheyei, and the oconpants of the
c‘lbin immcdiltely came on deck, greatlv re
lieved to find that they Wl‘l‘e not to be butcher-
ed by the pinion Ai yet. the new captain did
not even know the name of his employer. fle
bowed politely to him an” intimated that he
was readv to answer the questions put to him
before the action.

“ It is hardly necessary to unalter tbem nOW,
as you have proved your fitness lor the posi-
tion,” replied the owner. “Captain Boifleld,
tfilfi is my wife, Mrc. llunwood.”

Tue new ccpnin boch very low; and offer
the rest of the family, consistlc of :1 son and
daughter, bud been inlroduc—ll, Ir, Duuwnoa
beg-m to lcq-llrb into the antecedents of the
commander.

(10 be continued—comm- ncl'd in N0. 58.)

p
«.lcck, rind touch-
will:

demon led Captain

 

Science and Industry.

 

A NEW kind of clozh is being made in Lvon:
from tho down of hens. ducks and goose. Sewn
hundrel and fifty gums of feathers make one
square meaer 03 a light. and Vcly «arm Water-
proof cl )IIB, whica can be dyed in all shades.

HOLLAND, in the last lhrse nanfurll s. has re-
co= cred iron: the sea at least 90,000 vCl'l-S. The
lake of Harlem became terra m'lna be‘wecn
184’) and 185:3. and the variur Z 6 is ill pr cess
of transformalion info 500 030 vuluub’e acres.

DURING the two years 1878-80 where were ob-
tained from KrileCIthka the following num
her of v—lnqble Skins: Slh'es. 2,833; n'tc-rs, 700:
foxes.1 000: efml'me. 1 303: hears, 1 300: glut
tons. 2'7: sells. 2,000; \Vllll'll=. 19: allelic foxes.
10; Wolves 233, and unou: 900 skin: of dlflervnt
wild animals, not including 300 wild-sheep
skins.

ANinventorin Brus=els claims lo have can-
trived a perpetual clock. It was started in the
latter city about one year ogo,a.mi up to a
recent due is said to have been running per-
fectly. An up draught is obtained in a tube or
shafc by expou’ngiu lo the sun. Tnk draught;
turns a fun, which winds up the weight or the
clock.

A GERMAN theoricl. proposes to build a ship
so that in (3158 of accident; to the bow lhe stern
half can be insrantanenudv separated from it
and proceed on the voyage securely and manly.
The idea i< set futh “1th some detail in tle
Hunburg Courilr, 'vbich thinks the new pre-
c-luli-ln against the dangers of the sea entirely
feasible.

TEE first legielativa ect authorizing the con-
struclion of a railroad in Pennsylvania was
paSw-d on March 31. 1823. and on Ar n] 16 183;,
the film train run thlougll fro n Philado pbia '0
Columbia. From that beginning the Pennsvl
vanla R lllronll has grown to its presvnl. propor-
gimm 'li‘hc approaching Sl’Il]=~c-ll'€hllial lumi-
versary will be appl‘opjdtaly cJobrated by the
great corporation.

TEE clock and Wlifc'l ll‘id"! 0f Berlin has
gro sn to emrrm m proporliws in “Kent yell“,

and in Some of ifs llcp 1' meme the G iman.

czlpi al hi-‘s fn’r to lead Hue world. A wry
l"l';‘,€‘. lu<imcs ls done in curious IIIIIC-giecss de-
signnl lo gralily c.pvl<~icu: and “nimsioal
t;tsfe.~.——iu “ml-lies 51-11 1'». coin“. ivory, gUlta.
pal-chm etc. «nrf ir- cll ck c133"? mer in finick-
iics; apes. For is Flat c.» (we cm cuy a clock in
the f'll'n) of a rice, tie che nip-«rug among
the ribs of the animal, whose c-.il scrvrs as the
l enduium, while his red Longne slidesin and out
at every tic-lac.

 

’ tunes ocrurred that; day. but after nightfall be

ONE D'A‘NZHNG.
nY AL w. CRCWL‘LL.

What lime the [I‘ll‘l‘llltlfl‘ um shot litllc pales

Oi inlcl'miftellt light.- atbwul l. the sen,

Ami \iik’d at last in M ‘rh‘s :lnd lejbll‘I‘y;—— _
Wu t lime EJl'l h‘s balmy {Liz's mull;- dl: L's-ilk? wail;
O‘l-r Night, so 1 ltcly drum-what lllllU-Iile rails

Of for off fisher—boats gleam-1: gl.osl1ly ,~

What ti m.- th». on]; air shurlllcxed up to me,

curing the new Divm's mist-enveloped trolls;-
What time. all N ltul'e slriws to grander things,

And wukcs to newer glullness will} the (lawn,

His spirit burst the bonds ofe lrlhly night
And  ured a1 llt cu grand. inviSIblc Wings;—
Suiled like a Slec'I‘ Cl.)ll(ll::t un——and Oil——
Into the glory of the Sunrise light!

Gideon Haldane,

The High Horse of the Pacific.
BY ALBEQTW. AIKEN,

 

 

—

CHAPTER XXIX.
AN UNEXPECI‘ED MESSAGE.

THE major peclormerl the (hwy of disarming
the cowboys with alacrity and skill and pileo
the motley Collection of weapons on the coun-
ter, much to the delight of the honed: Dutch-
man.

“1 say, poys, it was betterish goot dot be
next time you come mil: you mine house 1ns:de
dot you stay mit your own pol-pies at home;
how‘ high was dot a’ready, hey l’ Jake ex-
claim; d. .

“And now git!" exclaimed the High Horse.
“and tell your friends when you meet ’ein than
this hyer camp is the hardest kind of a place.
and we make no more of chewing hp 3. dozen or
two of co“ boys in this town than if they were
so many rats. -

“ Fell ’em that Cibolo City is a tough place to
tackle, and warn '90:: that the gang chat comes
in hycr thinking to capture the camp. had bet—
ter purchase their colflus and [nuke all the
needful arrangements for their funerals afore
bl'ey slurp, for this hyer is the place whar all
the cyclones start from, and “is mighty on-
lleallky for strangers to attempt to put on any
frillx ”

"Pm’l, you are jest old lightning, and you
kin l-et. all toe Wu:th you‘ve got in the term
anal; this bycr gmg will never come within a
hundred miles of the pl-lco ag‘in if they kin help
is,” the cowboy captain replied, and then the
discoszlfi'ell crowd departed. some of them suf-
fering so severely from the effects of the sledge-
;la uruil‘ like blows 0-1" the Cuhforniun that they
had to b2 alsnoan carried by their more fortu—
nutccompanios's. 

“Supper-merit! dot wag der bcst bully fight
dot I ever 5 9d mil mine lwo eves!” ma sail-on
sacs-par d clared. “I vill bet you two dollars
and n hilof dot crowd knows some tings more
dun “1133' did when they come inzo my honsen
out.”

Loui were the congratulations the bystand—
crs showered upou Goldluco for his magnificent
achievement.

“ By chimney Christmnsi if I had know’ll
riot oer gang was so pigeon-hearted, 1 would
minesolut’ have cleaned dell] out mil; der bung-
starlel‘l" Jacob declared, and this announce—
ment pl‘OV‘ke‘d u y ll of llerikion from the rest.

“Un, you‘re a bully fighter,” said one.

“ \Vilh his‘ chin," added another.

“ Klu whip the biggest kind of a. man—in his
min-'2 I” (:l iod a third.

"- Better keep quiet, or he’ll sail in and clean
us out," suggested a fourth.

" Oh. you tvrcugcurgenlle Dutchman,” urged
the major. " Ue stu t afraid of that gungl I
know for a sure enough fact that he had hard
work to keep his hands off them. all the time
they were llyer. If he hadn’t been anxious not
to have any disturbance in his house he would
have killed the, hull lot with the bung-starter
right at the beginning.”

“Dot Was So,” excmimed Jake, who did not
“tumble” to the fact that the major was chafliug
hvm. “ I had dot bungksnarter in mine hand
cwo or dree times; lwas all ready for to let
dot big feller hafc one chunk in dcr head, when
he so oxcited me by asking me to dance mine-
seluf, dot I forgot dot bung-starter, completely.
Well. das was all right; we cleaned dem on t. l
standfltreat for do: gang. What you have,
0 3!

When the news of this exploit became the
common property of the town, the High Horse
was at once a greater hero than ever, but he
bore his honors modestly.

“ Don’t say a word about it,” he replied, when
questioned upon the subject. “I didn’t go for
to git into the fuss of my own accord. I was
kinder dragged in, for I was afeard the cuSSes
would take it into their dru~lken beads to burn
down the saloon, and if a fire should once got
started layer, 1 reckoned it would be ‘good—by,
Cibolo Clly,’ so I chipped in to do what I
could.

when they come bowling into the town that;
they are going to run the curp or elsa
smash everything lo ’tarnal splinters, the
chances are ’bout ten to one if a single cool-
headed man faces ’em, he kin make ’em dust,
livclv. Theyare’mosl always a Set of cowards;
if lhey wasn’t, they wouldn’t come into a. camp
in that way.” ‘

Nothing of note affecting our hero or his for-

was approached by a MexiCHn boy as be was
standing on the outside of the hotel, who in a
mysterious way drew him to one side and said
that he had an important message for him.

NOW, as the Californian didn't take much
stock in Mexicans big or little. old or young, be
was mistruszt‘ul of the youth although he did
not allow the Olber to see it.

“ You will not tell any one what I am going
to reveal lo'you?" said the boy, mysteriously.

“ That depends upon what is is.” Goldlace
replied, evasivlaly. "If it den’t concern any-
body but myself, why. it will be all right. I
ain‘t a-going ’round telling my business to
everybody.”

“It more closely concerns you than any one
else, but the man who sends me would not like
any one to know that he has put himself in
communication with you.”

“ Oh, as far as that goes. he can depend upon
me to l ecp my tongue still.”

“I am the brother of Jose Camargo, Black—
bearded Josc. you remember biml He is the
man with whom you had the quarrel in the
Great American Eagle saloon.”

“Yes; he and the Injun were in cahoots."

“Exactly, senor.”

“I remember him. Ind Iroclzon he got hurt in
the fight at the Fandango Hall the other night.”

“ 01, he did, sefior; he is dying,” replied the
boy. mournfully.

“ Dving! you don’t say so?”

“ Yes. sefior; be has been examined by thefdoc-
for and he says there isn‘t any hope. The
sound is mortal and death may come ct any
lme.‘

“ Wa-al, now, that’s pretty steep,” Goldlace
obsn‘ved, rofloctively. " I don’t know much
about your brother, and what little I do know
isn’t apt to make me‘ feel particularly friendly
to him, but I'm sorry he's going to kick the
bucket. all the some.”

“ His conscience troubles him." ~

“ His conscience! has be got rich 1: thing?"

“ Yen, senor; he has seen the bolv father and
has been advised to do all he can to atone for
the wrong! he has done."

 

The Crlilomiun had become pret‘y well ac-
quainted wilh the lli<lcrv of Black boarded
JOFQ during his brief sljourn in Cibolo Ciny
nnl he could not help lrllinking~nlllmugb, out;
of l‘e-clcct l0 lllc feelil gs of the relative of tho
ummied. lie civl not. put hi2: lhcliglfs info
WOI‘dS—ii‘lflb il‘ Caninrgo romainle alive un'il
be bad Efl‘lfirld up all his pad. offenses, the day
(if l‘isdoulb would be for (lis‘unr.

“ch. ycs: llml’s 'bcur r'ght, I suppose. In
such a time as this, lile>€ Bowel sharps emeral-

“The gang was like all such gangs, though: -

" Ely brnfhur wishe; to see you: he has Some-
till": itlllvlll't'2lif to counnumcate—something
which you, llu doubt, will be very glad to
hear.”

Tue High Horsc pricked up his ears, figur-
ativdy sf)"lll{lllg, at this.

"' is: that so!“

" 0n, you; it. is truth that. I am speaking. You
have been atluckcd will; great bitterness Slllce
vcu hive com ~ into this camp?" r
. “Yes; :2 man would be safe in betting high
on than.”

"Allacks are not made without reason. It
coals money to hire brawls.” .

"‘ Oh, yrs; lighting must be paid for; the
laborer is worl liv of his hire.”

“ You are. n s'ranger: who in this town cares
whether you live or die!"

“ No one, I reckon. except thar may be some
man who thinks my presence byer bodes dan—
ger in him.”

" Ex-lctlv,” and the boy nodded shrewdly.
" Jose told me. to say all these things to you so
that you could clearly understand how matters
are.”

“ If I guess correctly, then, Jose and his
friends have been hired to attack me?”

“ Yes, and a big price paid. Mexican bravos
are not fools. if they fly at big game, they
must have a big price."

“ I didn't really know that my carcass was so
dnrnod valuable." \

“ You came to this town in search of a cer-
tain man?”

“ Sure as shooting!"

“ You have not found him?”

“ Nary time, nor the least trace of him, al—
though I had asuspicion when these ferocious at-
tacks were made upon me that the man I was
arter was at the bontom of the hull business.”

“ That guess is correct.”

“I reckoned ii; was."

“ The man you seek is called Aban Vali.”

“That‘s the identical critter!" reSpOnded the
High Ho; 39, eagerly, a bone springing up in his
heart mat at last he was gomg to strike upon
the trail.

“ He is the man who hired my brother and
his friends to attack you.”

“ The critter is in the camp then?”

“ He is. but not known by that name.”

“ l suepic.oued that of-coul-Se.”

“ And now that my brother is on his death-
bed, he proposes to. in a. measure, requite the,
wrong he attempted to do you by revealing the
true name of the man who desired your death,
so that. you will be able to see him personally
and call him to an account.”

“ Wa-al,if he will do that, I‘m willing to give
him a clean bill of health as far as I am con—
Cul‘llé‘lfl, if that will be of any use in smoothing
his passage into the otller world.”

“And there is another secret—there is a'

child 1”

“ A child 1” and the breath of the High Hone
came hard and fast.

“ Yes, and that is one reason why this man,
who keeps so completely in the background, is
anxious to torust you out of the way.”

“.Hc is afraid that I will lake the child away?
The ’turnal skunkl Let me come face to face

with him once. and then we’ll see what we will‘

ice,” and the Californian closed his hard fists in
a menacing manner. '

“ if you will come with me I will take you to
my brother.”

“ S'll'b‘ln, go ahead!”

Thiq might be a trap, bub Goldlace was a man
without fear.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE cownov CAMP. .

A MORE diwusted lot of moll than the van-
quished cowboys as they filed out of the Great
American E igle Hotel and took their way
through the town, the camp of Cibolo City had
never $90!].

Some of the strangers had been handled so
roughly that tueir more fortunate companions
were obliged to almost carry them. The citi—
zsns‘, attracted by the news trail; the High Horse,
single-banded, was engaged in a. fight with
“ thnty ” cowboys in the Great American
ElgleSaloou-Lhus rumor always exaggerates
v-flocked in great numbers to the scene of con-
flict, and when the strangers came forth—
“ whipped clean out of their boots 1” as one ex-
cited nnd enthusiastic miner eXpressed it, the
joy of the townsmen know no bounds.

“What do ye think of this hyer camp, any-
way ?" queried one, as the cowboys stalked
down the main street, glaring sulkily at the
jeering bystanders.

“ I reckon you-’uns hev diskivered that it; is a
heap gt a camp arter all,” another citizen sug—

esre .

g “ Went for wool and got shornl” cried a third,
and there were twenty such remarks addressed
to the vanquished braves, who but a short hour
before had “taken the town ” in true cowboy
st le.

yl‘be wild riders did not attempt to reply to
the taunts lavished so freely upon them.

They were whipped men, and libero wasn’t a
crow in the whole party.

It was bad enough to be thrashed, but the
idea that ten of them had piled on one man and
then had been ignominiously defeated was per-
fectly appalling.

These cowboys were good men too, as men go
on the prairies and in the mountains of the wild
West; they had taken part in manyapitched
battle, fought to the bitter end with both na-
ture’s weapons and the destructive implements
that the art of man has invented that life may
be more easil y destroyed.

But in the records of the past no such crush—
ing defeat as they had experienced that; night
was noted.

Every jeer of the sarcasx ic crowd struck homo,
and each taunt rankled like a. barbed arrow, but
they were whipped men, defeated on a battle—
ground of their own choosing. and by a foe
whom they ought to have conquered without
the slightest difficulty.

Then, too, they were weaponless. and so the
did not attempt to reply to the gibea of the cit -
zone, but sluuk through the town in hangdog
fashion.

Glad enough, too, Were they when they
reached the end of the street and emerged from
the town into the open country.

The citizens escorl ed them to the very edge of
the camp and fired a volley of parting remarks
after them.

“ Good by. boys. come ag’in when you can’t
stay so long I" yelled one.

“ So-long, pards; when you sail in on ‘ Now I
lay mo,’ to night, don’t forgit to put in a. good
word for the camp of Cibolo City 1” exclaimed
a second.

And there Were a dozen observnllons of this
kind hurled after the discomflted men as they
retreated.

Never a word in reply said the cowboys, but
when they got out of earshot of the citizens,
simultaneously tbev all gave vent to a. groan.

“ Durn it all. boyecsl” cried the leader of the
parly, Wamego Billy bv name, “if this don’t.
beat n y time all hodcrl”

“ l’ve been in some tough lnasles since I took
to the rolling pcrairies, but this byer work to-
night. lays ’way over the deck,” observed an-
ot or.

“ Right you air, par-d," remarked a third one
of the gang. “ I’ve a» on some good men since I
war batched, but this big galoot isa head and
shoulders ahead of the heap."

“ And we ha! lho town dead to rights. too,”
mourned the leader. “ Thar warn't a sucker in
the outfit that dared for to say boo! till this
big cuss chi,_ped in and called the town on us."

“ I reckon Ibis hyer crowd kin never come in
and climb this llyor comp ag’in," remarked a
mlwl‘ov who was limping along, aided by a
comrldc‘s arm.

“ Not much!" growled tho lender. We meao
Billy. “ Allcr this bvcr fight tonight, and the
(«w-ed way in “ hicll we got cleaned out, I
reckon lhztr ain’t it ten-ycvr—nld boy in the clump
who wouldn’i be apt to lbink be Could lav us
out. if we cwmted info the place with the idea.
of pulling on any frills.”

"Toll _\ cu w’ot it is. pards,” said another One

 

 

 

1y come pretty close lo the right: thing.”

of the party, a. little bow leggod fellow, who

tion, and bad bren so bucmmrd in Hill fizllb as
m come off almost culircly llllllflllllOli, marian
only a most. beautiful pair of black eyes as
proof that he had be (-Lunlered rho n.u.:cul .r lislll
of the Californian, “ no Worked Lac trick
WiOllL' right. from the beginning. We had no
lluwlless to wine into too town on foot. We
ought. to lnvrozle inlo it on our bosses. Take
me off my boss and I ain‘t worth chucks, no-
sir 96, a cowboy without; a hour ain‘t worth a
durned cent!" ‘

“You ain‘t worth much anyhow," returned
anego Billy, who (liu not h we a high «rpm-
ion of either the proweca or the wisdom of the
bow-legged man, who was, bllWPVFI', one of the
best riders in the party, thanks to the peculiar
way in which be waa‘ built. " It only required
a sing’e smack to knock all the fight oulcn you.
and then you luck water in the worst kind of
way. I never seed a man crawflsh so badly in
all my life.”

“ Tnat‘s so, that’s so!" exclaimed a couple of
the others, glad of a chance to find fault with
somebody.

The cowboys, smarling under their ignomini-
ous defeat, were anxious to wreak their Fplte
and so they all fell to abusing the bmdy-lcggcd
man, who made a vigorous defense for a time,
but was at last silenced by the universal attack.

The cowboys had gone into camp in a little
clump of timber about a mile from t. e town.

There was just an even dozen in the party.

Two of them, the actual captains of the gang,
had remained at the camp to take care of the
horses, while the others went on their “hur-
rah ” into the mining-town.

Jack Robinson, Red Jack. as he wns common-
ly termed on account of his red hair and board,
a man of thirtyfive, or thereabouls, a splendid
specimen of manhood, was the main captain
and Charley Manger, Texas Cbarley,was second
in command.

The Texan was six feel; tall, s'raigbt as an
arrow, lion-limbed, weighed two hundred
pounds. and yet was as spry as a cat.

In fact two better men than Red Jack and
Tean Charley it would have been hard to dis-
COVeI‘ all along the line of the frontier.

The pair were generally at the head of the
covvboys on all occasions, but on the night of
which we write, just after going in'o camp a
dispute had occurred bethen the two as to
which was the best poker‘playcr and so they
had set down to settle the q loslion utter supper
was dispatched, while their companions role off
to astoni~h the mining-Camp.

The dispute in regard to the card-playing
abilities of the two had not been settled when
(he vanquished cow boys mad» their appear»
‘ nee.

IV ember one could boast 0f much more skill or
luck than his adversary, for thrro was only five
(lollm‘u’ did'eren‘ce beLWeen them. and both had
become heartily sick of such an uninteresting
go me by the time the rest of the gang came in-
to camp.

The cowboys had kindled a roaring fire for
the purpose of cooking their supper and the
card-players kept it going so the. flames might
afford them liaht for their game, though bv the
time the raining-party reached the camp the
moon was out. so full and blightthatevery thing
was almost as visible as by day.

The contestants looked up in surprise as the
lliscomfited c0wbuys made l.heir appmranco.
their demoralized condition giving ample proof
that instead of “ taking the town ” the town had
taken them.

“Thunder and lightning” cricd Rad Jack, as
he gazed upon the bruised and battered mcn,
“ whar on earth hev you fellers been and wh..l;
kind of a tornado did you strikel"

“ A reg‘lar norther, for sure.” Texas Char
Icy. remarked. “ Wa nl, wa-al, I wouldn’t, bev
believed it if I had n't seen it With my own two
looking eyes. Say: W'ol kind of a. domed gang
did you run into, anyway?"

“ I reckon we II have to acknowledge that
we’ve been telotally cbaWed up,” Wurlng Billy
replied, as he helped himself to a seat by the
fire, his companions following his example, a
sulkv and disgusted crowd,

“I reckon you will," Red Jack rejoined, his
amazement increasing as he Surveyeu the men
and saw how badly they had been punikbed, for
there wasn't. one of the cowboys that did not.
exhibit marks of the High Horse‘s muscular
powers upon his person.

“Durn my cats!” cried Texas Charley, “if
you ain't the worst-looking crowd I ve sot eyes
on for a dog's age: w’ot kind of a town hev they
got over yander!"

“Must be a mighty lively place I reckon
from the looks of you galoots," Red Jack inter-
posed. “ How did it happen, anyway? Did
the bull town rise and climb ye?"

“ Whar in thunder are your wo‘ponsl” roared
Texas Charley, his keen eyes at this moment
discovering that there wasn’t a man in the
party who could boast of being heeled. “You
had a plenty of toothpicks and bankers when
you left the camp. ’Taiu’t prsailqe that you’ve
been fools enough to ‘blow ’ them in at some
game and git completely cleaned out, and then
everlastingly salivated arterward for squealing
‘boul; its”

“Our we’pons are all in the camp yonder,”
and Wamego Billy jerked his right thumb in
the direcdon of Cibolo City whOse lights could
be plainly distinguished.

“ Put ’em up for drinks 1" ejaculated the bow
legged man.

“ W hat?" cried Red Jack, springing to his feet
in wrath.

“ How!” and Texas Cnarlcy placed his arms
akimbo and glared at the sneepish—looking men.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE HIGH HORSE Is CALLED TO AN ACCOUNT.

f‘ ITS a, sure enough fact,” Wamego Billy ad-
mitted. “and 1 was going to spit out the hull
yarn if this durned big bended gulcot hadn‘t
been so ’tarnal eager to shoot off his mouth.”
and he glanced in scorn at the bow-legged man.
who returned the glance with interest. “ This
hyer hull oulflt has been taken into camp in the
worst; possible way. It jest boats anything I
ever heered tell on. and I’ve been uzrustling
’round this byer country ever since I was knee-
high to a jack rabbit.”

“And all on yer, ten men—fen bill.r mm—ten
good men. who ought to be able to whip a bun
dreJ ordinary gnloots, pin up your vie porn to
the man what runs a gin-mill shebnngl Wa al
I'm flabhorgasted, and I don‘t keer who know;
fill” and in order to givo due ompbaill to the re-
mark be brought his muscular right 1130:! down
upon his thigh with a smack that. remanded
like a pistol crack.

Red J ack was evidently excited.

“ It beats me clear to dolth,” Texas Charley
observed, fully a: much exasperated by the un-
toward circumstance me the chief of the baud.
“Marlyn time since I took to cow‘r-uucbing,
l‘vo ridden into a town, tackled rho liveliest
ohobang 1n the place and ordered the drinks set
up for myself and my gone, and set up as clten
too as I liked. If I bad the ducal: and kePrcd
to shell ’em out, Welland good: if I didn‘t have
the coin and was clean bu’atcd. I trld the
abebanglst to 'hung ’em up,’ and they were
hung up too.

“_1f the cuss rquenled or licked, I gi’n him a
chowe alwcen doing of it or else trving n loaden
pill, or a nice little dose of six or eight inches of
Cold steel, and bury one of ’cm yit evor bind the
pluck to try my medicine; but us in pulling up
my tools for drinks. cuss me if I wouldn't
rather fling them iuln the river. ’00: that. would
be acting like a while man: in: to pass over
your pop in“, why, par-ls, if. wus- not only-
gIrH‘OWID: mudfnl1 you, in: caulking “f if m,

on ms 9 mo cc inl-un when - ‘
apart of tbeouutit!" lmuk m.” a m

The cowboys shook lbcir l‘eeds in n dinnnl
sort of “my, and some of them group“! n but ' if
was lcugll enough to have i0 slip a such tall-
and rot be able to make a grad llel'ensc ‘
"Thur ain‘t the least. bil of has to mince maf-
tors or l. w nth-mm lo bent ab mt; tho bush "
Wamcco Billy mlmillod. “ “'e wan in to cilia
the camp a taste. of ilic geruiue 'l‘txm mm boy,

 

and we was a—doing of it up to the handle mo,

bad rot- previnusly t-ikerl put in the ccnvcrsn— i when all 0f a wild”! “8 Slipp‘d up and 80*

lsahvuled—uul'ully axlivuled-und Lhur ain't no
‘ twu ways 'lluul. ill.
a Sule enough fact by just. casting your option
ovrr lhc gang. I reckon no ill! on us look ms if
we Ind been tackling a [mat class thrashing-
machine.”

“ You kin bet your bottom dollar on that,”
Red Jack l'l-joirle l. '

“ Oh, yea, We’ll take your word for it.
You’re ’lout as us- d up a crowd as I’ve Seen in
a mouth of fiunduys,” Texas Charley added.

“ Any mun kin see with half an eye that you
must have struck big odds,” Rad Jack' le-
msrked, “I suppose the town wasn't. used to
c0‘xboy trick and rose at ya. I know how it
is:I t,l”l‘un into jest sich a hornets’ nest once my-
82 .

“How many were at ye anyway?” Texas
Charley asked. “ Cuss my cats if it don’t look
as ijl’ somewhar ’bout a hundred had piled onto

9.
“ Yes, how many?” Red Jack demanded.

Tho cowboys looked at each other in the most
sheepish manner possible, and the captains nur-
veycd them in amazement, not know ing what
to make of their ntrange behavior.

“Was thar sick a crowd that you couldn’t
connt them l" Texas Charley asked. '

Wamego Billy burst in o a loud laugh, ovi-
denllJy forced, while the rest grinned a. sickly
sun 0.

lay out the bull gang.”

“One man!” yelled Red Jack.

“ One man l” fairly howled Texas Charley.

The captains could hardly believe the evi-
dence of their own cars.

That a single man could “gel; away” with
these ten muscular cowboys seemed utterly in-
credible.

“Oh, coma. boys, you are laying it on’too
thick now,” Red Jack protested. “ I kin swal—
low almost evary kind of a yarn, but this hyer
one-man story is a leetle too tough 1”

“Oh, yes, too thin entirely,” Texas Charley
asserted.

else," Wamego Billy replied. “Jest hold your
homes for a minute and I will tell you all ’buul;
it, and the rest oft‘oe outfit will take their oath
that I’m giving it to you as straight as a
string."

“ Wade in!” commanded Red Jack.

Then the cowboy rclu'ed the Story of their
advmturcs in Cir-010 City. ‘

Told how tbcy bad cuplured the saloon and
were enjoying thniSGlVPS with the Dulcbmun
in tip-top style, when the big slranggr put in
an appen'ancc; doceibed b0w ho had offered
to u hip lhe whole gang. and the scientific mam
ner in which be accomplished the feat when his
challenge was accepted.

"And he made you fork over your we‘pons
jest as if you wele a lot. of cowardly coyotes?”
Red Jack exclaimed, his lip curling in con-
tempr.

“Cap, we were whippad men, whipped in the
worst kind of a way,” Wumcgo Billy replied.
“ I reckon tllar wasn’t a man of us that wasn't
willing to crawl out of the scrape in ’bout any
kind of way. I tell you. Cup, I‘ve been in
some pretty hefty knock down and drag out
figlllsm mv time, but I never was handled so
before in all my life.

“ This hyer man that we tackled ain't a man
at all—he’s more than human. When he
smocked a man it was like the kick of a boys.
Durncd if ho didn’t give mo 31. plla driver that.
seemed to lift me clean off I-lll‘flf)()l“~—y¢'ll, sir,
you can bet; all your Wealth on it; I wont lly~
lin: through the air just like a bird, and when I
htI came down so cussed hard that my head
made a dent in the, board 1" “

And the rcst of the gang nodded as if to as—
sent to the truth of thli statement.

“One man git away with ten of you!” Texas
Charley remarked, withering contempt in his
face and voice. ‘

.“Yes, one man: that is what I said and I
sticks to it,” \Vamcgo Billy replied, doggedly.
‘fBut 1 tell you, Clip, you never run moul of
men a crittcr since you came onto this hyer
foolslooll”

“Bosh!” cried Red Jack, in supremo con-
tempt, “w‘ol: kind of talk are you frying to
give us? The fact is. when you come right
down to the truth of the matter, lhe fellcr
stampede you. He was a leetlo handy with
his fists and you Were on strange ground, ready
to break and run at the furst chance. I reckon
lfflllhcr Texas or myself had been thar, the
thmz wouldn’t have happened.”

“Mebbo not: that’s no telling who is Gov-
erpor until arter election.” Wamego Billy re—
plied. “But I kin jest tell you that we-‘uns
wasn’t hankering for any more of the big gu-
loot arler we got properly introduced to him."

\ “Say, Texas, shall we stand this kind of a
rackelll” inquired Red Jack. “Shall we. the
captains of this byer outfit, have it go round
the country that our gang was badlv whipped
by one. maul” ‘

“Not by a durned sight,” replied the other.
prpt’nptly. “I’m for satisfaction fl om the word

0

“That’s the kind of man I am ” remalke
Red Jack, with a look of contempt, as he guzeg
upon his defeated and disgraced men. “ I
reckon I could never hold up my bead high
enpug'1 to look even a yallornog in the facc if
this hyer outrage w on t wiped out.

“I‘m for this High Horse, or w'oisever he
calls himself."

“ You kin jest count me in, too” Texas
Charley observed, rising to his feet. “ f thing!
have got so bad that a single man kin put ten
cowbo son the run and make ’em bunt their
hples, reckon it’s ’llout time that gen‘I-uwn
give up cow-punching and went into some
Ollieélbufilness.

or mg m a grooer store or u lin
tumblers nmml a bar nilgIl't do,” and info: bg
added refleclively: “tut none of you (lnrned
galoots would be worth chucks in a saloon
llbollmh, for even 5: burkecper must hue com;
cm a sum , a mm or tw ' v
D SW,” by." g 0 any way, jest enough

“Ch, this thing has got to bo lquared up
lbarsino two wavs’bout it!" er Jack crlud:
impatiently. “Come along, Texas. let’s pay a
hello visit over to yonder camp and find out
w‘ot this critter of 3 Hugh Home is made of
whether he's fl-lsh and blood, or a walking cy:
clone in the shape of a man, cuvorting”r0und

of cowboy-3’

“ I m with you. pard, every lime.”

“ Wa-al, I s'poso some of us ought to 20 along
so an to get a chance to sea the fun," Wumcgo
Billy remarked. also rising. his example being
fpllowod by all of the cowboys with the excep-
tion of the three badly Wounded men, who had
all they wanted of the Californian, as one of
them ob-erwd, and were not at ull anxious ever
to catch night of his face again.

“.We’ll leave you liver to look nrtor the camp
while we take a crack at this hyor blur-ll‘ur of a
Ta‘n who feed: on cowboys," said Rod Jack.

5:), boys, all you ’um that are anxious to 300
Texas and myself cbawod up for keep. 1.."
right into the pmccrsion ” ,

Tlan of! the two captain started followed by
seven of the cowboys.

Bur. hardly had ibe party quilted the little
clump of timber in which their camp was
pllchcd when a cwuple of figures, about half a
lulledlstam on the prsirle, attracted lhcir at-
tennnn.

“By the great horned snake of Tans!” ' ‘
\V-nmego Billy. “ if th'lr ain‘t thr- vol y “medial
crit'er now! Thnr me is, pnrlls, that's him lint
bill frill‘l‘ Yonder." , ‘

“ Burn m“ if thia ain‘t what I c lll luck!“ Roll
Jack exullimeol. “Come on, boys, and We‘ll
’“lunl up thin pilgrim l" '

S rlking off in a air. climi lo intercopt Hm
slrar‘lg- r, in ten minutes tho ('0n11038 (sumo
within speaking dlslale‘e.

“Hold your hoes-'9, slrnnpcr, we’ve come to
bev‘ a liltle talk Are you l'l'f‘pfirl'd In step up
tn‘the clp'din‘s oliicc and settle!" Red Jack
cried.

(To be cantiamd‘commcnced in No. 52.)

 

 

 

 

 

But, in course, you go? ills

” Oh, that wasn't a mite o’ trouble"bout the‘
counting, seeing that it only took one suckerto‘

“Pards, it’s the solid truth and nothing‘

jeut for the purpow of making mincomeat out'

 

 

  
  
  
  
    
   
    
  
    
 
  
  
    
  
   
 
   
   
 
   
   
  
   
 
  
   
   
 
 
  
 
    
  
 
  
    
    
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
     
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
    
   
  
   
    
  
  
   
   
   
  
    
   
     
   
  
   
      
    
  
   
 
      
   
    
      
  
      
    
    
   
   
    
   
  
    
     
    
   
    
 
  
 
     
     
   
  
   
     

 

 

 

  
    
     
    
     
   
    
    
   
       
    
     

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tarry incite,
THE MAN OF IRON;

0a,
A Fight or Fortune.

BY CAPT. FRED. WH ITTAKER,
struck on “JOHN ARMSTRONG, MECHANIC.”
CHAPTER XXXIV.

LARRY'S DOUBLE—BANKING.

YES. There was no doubting the fact that
the. crowd was very dense and compost-d of
strong men. as far as concurred that part near
Larry and his friends.

in their plain working costume they were so
different from the people round them that they
had been “ spotted ” us soon as they first, em”, 6
the corridor“, and the politicians and “ strikers"
were hastling them, on par peso to annoy and
confuse them.

Larry and his friends were too much used to
rough borer-play to mind this, and they bust/ltd
buck, swaying to and lro in the crowd, and tak-
ing it good—naturally. till they came to the (loo:
ol~ Ruotn 17. which thty tound to be wide Open.
while, inside, stood a big mun with a (-igul- i,‘,
his mouth, by a table strewed ‘with papers.
There was somethirg familiar in the face of
this man to Larry; but he could not tell when
he had seen him l‘efoie.

He was tall, halal-shouldered and burly
with a PlOfl‘n'RllflVl’Tl chin and checks, and 1;
clam-clipped grizzled mustache. while his hair
was cut as close as a convict’s head.

Round the room. lounging on chairs, were
some other men who all seemed to be dressed in
new clothes, and to have been recently bar-
bcred, none of whom did Larry recognize.

He and his friends Went in, and Larry said:

“ is this the Bosses’ Unioul”

The big man turned to him, and surveyed him
from head to foot with a dubious air.

“Yes, it is,” he said. “I’m the secretary.
Who are you, and what do you want!”

" I’m Larry Locke,District Master Workman,”
said Larry, quietly. “ You sent us a letter.”

“Yes. Well. are you going to come down
from your high horse?" asked the big man,
grufiiy. “ We made the offer. Do you take it?”

“ No,” answered Larry, “we want more time
to think over it. VVe’ll give you an answer
to-morrow.”

The big man looked him over again.

“Hutu! Ye will, will ye? Well, it’ll be too
late then. It ain’t open. The bosses have
agreed to shut the works and sell out, if you
don’t come down to them.”

“ They can shut up and o to blazes,” retOrted
Larry, with some heat. “ hey've madea propo-
sition and we shall hold them to it.”

The big man sneercd at him.

“Ye don’t say. You’re a healthy pill to hold
any one to anything. you are. Get out of this
room, or you’ll get put. out, darned quick.”

Larry’s eyes flashed.

“i’m going out, sir,” he said, sternly; “but
don’t you go to talking of putting me out, or it.
will be the worse for you.”

“It will, will it?” cried the big man, and as
he spoke he snatched up from the table a heavy
iron-wood ruler and looked round him.

“That’s your man, boys,” he cried. “Slug
himl ’

The men in new clothes round the room
jumped up and came piling on the three work—
men, without a word.

For one instant there was a fierce, silent st rug-
gle, Larry striking out and butting with his
head, laying man after man prostrate, but the
odds were too great.

In the midst of the melee the big man brought
down the ruler on Larry with crushing force,
while a battery of blows from brass knuckles
rained on the back of his head, and Larry Locke,
the Man of Iron, taken by surprise, twelve to
one, droppcd Scnsclcss on the floor, just as the
politicians and strikers of the big convention
outside came crowding in to part the Combat}
ants and entered unawares into a regular free
fight, which swayed to and fro from the room
to the. corridor and back again, while shouts
aid cries made a Babel of tho Bcrkcly Hotel, to
the dismay of the guests.

()u' in the corridor, near the stairs, stood
Tom Trainer and Marcellus Skinner, listening,
since the workmen first went in, and Marcellus
observed to his hopeful son:

“It’s work d to a charm, Tom. They’ve gone
in. Didn’t any of ’em suspcct anything?”

“ Not a thing,” returned Tom, with a. grin.
“ Locke he looked at the paper and saw the
rog’lar heading, and I reckon they took it for a
genooine message. Oh, he’s sucked in, this time,
for sure.”

Marcellus, in the midst of the crowd, watched
the workmen go to the door of room 17, and lis—
tened anxiously till the scuflling began, when he
said to Tom with a chucklt :

“They’re getting it, and he’s getting wiped
out. It’s worked to a charm, Tommy boy.
Let us get out of this, so no one can’t say we’d
nothen to do here."

And he started for the staircase with Tom,
just as the crowd rushed toward room 17, leav-
ing the rest of the hall bare.

“Stop,” whispered Tom, clutching his arm
and pointing down stairs. “ There’s that cussed
Paul. Why didn’t we have him up there too,
father?”

Old Skinner looked down and saw his nephew
standing by the desk at the office, looking over
the register as if searching for a name.

“ Curse you,” he muttered shaking his fist fur-
tively, “I wish I could get you up here into
the fight. I’d get a chance at you.”

At that moment the row in room 17 became
a regular free fight, and. the trampling of feet,
shouting and swearing, began to attraco atten-
tion all over the hotel, in Spite of the thick deaf—
ened floors and the buzz of the crowd.

The cry arose, “ Fight! fight!”

Then a. man somewhere in the rear yelled:

“ Fire! fire!”

Then came trampling feet rushing overhead
and down stairs, while the screams of women
became audible.

Paul Van Beaver at the desk, looking over
the register, heard it and started round to
listen. " .

The clerks behind the connter heard it too,
and one hastily slammed the door of the safe
and said to his colleague in a tone of excite-
meut:

“Look out for things d0wn here. The pol-
iticians have got to fighting, and there’ll be a
panic.” .

Then he darted away lip-stairs, two steps at a.
time, and Paul was about to follow, when some
One behind‘ him said:

" say, mist‘er, for God’s sake, listen to me,”

Pain turned, and saw a‘ ragged, sneaking-
looking man, who continued nervously: ‘

“I’ve Hen lookin’ for ya all over.
wouldn’t listen to‘ me. Don’t do the same.
fore heaven I’Vc got something to tell ye.”

The. noise upstairs became louder, and the
porters and waiters began to rush up to see
What was the matter. as Paul said: _

“ ho are you? What do you want With
me!”

“ I’m Snoopey,” returnedthe ragged man in
a low, hurried tone. “ You're Mr. Van Beaver,
ain’t, on!”

“ es," replied Paul, puzzled. “ But what
do you want! Money?" “

“ Not a rent,” said Snoopey. eameSUY; I
want to {an ym- subbin’, mister. I heart] it last
night Th“.va a plot, to kill you and Larry. 
tried to tell him, but he wouldn t listen to are—-

The noise ovcrliead was deafening 119W. and
down came a waiter, running as hard as he
could, yelling as he passed: _ _ ”

“Run! Run! They’re klumg People!

Out of the door he ran, and they heard a
great crash on the floor above. '

The next moment Marcellus Skinner and Tom
rushed down the stairs and dashed out; while a
number of people made their appearance at the
head of the broad staircase, struggling hard to
keep from being pushed down, and a perfect

Larry
He'-

 

 

tempest of shouts and curses could be heard on
the landing.

Suoopey looked up, as if paralyzed with fear,
and whispered to Paul:

“My Gwdl We’ll be killed here. Run! run i"

As he spoke, he clung.' to the young man’s

arm, and the next moment down the Stairs
I'Olled a living torrent of humanity, tripping
and stumbling, to come sweeping along the
coi'ridor toward Paul and Uncopey.
. The young man hurried out into the street
Justin time to escape being crushed, and the
first person he saw Was his uncle, looking very
pale, while Tom Trainor stood beside him,
trembling and appalled.

“Don’t go near them,” whispered Snoopey,
hurrying him on. " Take me to some place
where we kin talk quiet. I tell ye it will be
Worth money to ye.”

Paul hesitated no longer. Something was
going on which he, did not understand, and
Snoopey. Wheever he was, held the key to it.
He toot: Sooooey’s arm and hurried the tramp
off down a side street to Scriven’s cflice, where
he took him into the sanctum, locked the dOor
and said:

" Now I’m ready to listen. Say what you’ve
got to say, and be quick about it.”

Tons urged, SuOopey told him, after a great
deal of cro-squestioniog and cXplanation, a tale
that astonished i'uul immeasurably.

It seemed that the trump, after hearing what
he had heard the previOuScVening, at Skinner's
house, had made his escape unse.n, and had
ween hunting.r about. ever since, for one to when.
oe could tell his secret. He had not dared to
go near Terror Jim, of whom he stood in mortal
ear.

“ He’d ha’ got it out of me, sure, mister,” he
said. “ You don’t know Terror Jim. He’d ha’
made me own up and go with him. But I give
him the slip, and I seen him this mornin’, with
a lot of his pals, go into that very house where
I found you.”

“Into the Berkely!” said Paul, amazedlv:
“ with a lot of tramps? They wouldn’t let them
in. You must be mistaken.”

“I ain’t,” said Snoopey, earnestly. “I seen
him and them, all dressed up in new cloza.
They’d b’en shaved and cleaned up so one
wouldn’t know; but I know Terror Jim well
enough.”

Here their conference was interrupted by some
one turning the handle of the door, and Paul
opened it to admit Mr. Scrich, who said, in an
astoaished way:

“ Hallo! what’s this?~what’s this? Who’s
this man, Paul, and what’s he doing here?”

Paul told him, and the old lawyer listened
attentively till he had finished, when he said:

“If that’s the case, we must hold this man
fast. I just passed by the Berkely and they’ve
been killing people there. By the description
you give, the party that began the fight can be
spotted. Come along with me.”

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
THE INQUEST WITHOUT A coarsn.

A CROWD of people had gathered in the street
before the Berke] y Hotel, and a strong squad of
policcmcn guarded the doors.

Every now and then an ambulance drOVe up
and men came out with stretcliers, some of
them covered up with shcets, others carrying
crushed and mutilated men, who groaned at
eVery motion of their bearers.

The old lawyer, accompanied by Paul and
Suoopey, the latter trembling in every limb
and ash y pale, came to the door.

Mr. Scriven whispered something to the ser-
geant who commanded the men at the door,
and he ansu cred:

I:

fused to join you in oppreSsing this pOor fellow
who lies dead thcrc—”

“ Don't say dead,” interrupted Paul. who had
been standing by the body on the table, unno-
ticed, while this went on. “ Don’t say dead. I
can feel his pulse heating.”

The coroner looked dlEgllSted.

“ What. are you talking about, sir?’ he said,
tartly. “Are you a medical man?”

“ No,” responded Paul, as tartly; “ but I can
feel a pulse as Well as any man. Where is your
doctoril This man’s not dead; he’s only stunned.”

“ Go and call the surgeon,” said the coroner,
grufllly, to a policeman at; the door, “and you,
Mr. Scriven, bring up your witness and prove
wLat you've said, if you can.”

Here poor Larry on the table uttered a groan
that set all doubts of his living conditim at
rest, and in a few minutes after“ urd the sur-
geon hurried in from his duties down-stairs, and
ottera short examination of Larry, observed,
dryly:

" Head iii 0 an elephant.
not frat-mud, after all.
little While.”

Paul uttered an exclamation of jov, and Skin-
rerinuttcred a low curse,while Mr. Scriven said:

“ So much the bet-.er. He can tell who was
with him, and how this thing came about, or
l'm very much mistaken.”

In fact, it. “as not Very long after when Larry
opened his eyes. croancd, and said:

"is that you. Mr Pauli They double-banked
are, at last. didn‘t. they? But it took a dozen.
Where’s Mug-Wyn .‘nd Sutton ?"

Pa ul assis m him to a sitting position, and he
look/"l around the room. astonished. saying:

“' What’s happened!l What’s this .3”

Scriven came close to him.

“ lVe thought 3 on were dead,” he said.
poor fellow. this is the coroner.”

Larry s : iled rather ruefullv.

“He's very kind, I’m sure,” said the Man of
Iron: "' but I ain’t dead yet.”

Then he glanced round the room, and a fierce
frown rested on his face as he said, pointing at
Somers:

“ There’s the son of a gun that double-banked
me, and I can whip him any day.”

As he spoke, he actually rose from the table,
as strong as ever, and was going up to Somers,
when the sharp captain of police caught his arm,
saying, sternly:

“ That’ll do: none of that.
man, but you can’t fight here.”

Then the coroner. who seemed to be surprised
beyond measure, at the wonderful vitality of
Larry, said to him:

“You're well named the Man of Iron. Tell
me why you came here?”

“1 came with Jun Maguire and Steve Sutton
to see the secretary of the Bosses’ Union.” said
Larry. boldly. " Here’s their letter offering to
end the strike.”

And be rummnged in his pocket and brought
it out, while Skinner and Somers looked on, too
much Confused at the miscarriage of their plan
to interrupt.

“That fuller said he was the secretary, and
he give me was, and, set on me With a dozen
more,” continued Larry, angrily. “ I’ll not
deny they double-banked me, Mr. Coroner, for
they took me 013? my guard; but I’ll say this:
I’ll take him and any two of his pals and they
can’t do it again now. I knocked two of ’em
stiff afore I went down, as it was, and all I got
was on the back of the head.”

At this point of the story Mr. Scriven quietly
slipped out of the room, and the coroner said:
“ And you’re sure you came here to meet the
Employers’ Union committee?”

“ Sartain,” responded Larry. “ What else
could bring me and my mates here? Where

By Jove, the skull is
He’ll be sensible in a

u

You’re a good

 

“Certainly, sir. We only want to keep out
the roughs. These strikers are all round, and
Mr. Skinner says they got up the row.”

“ is he inside?—-Skinner, I mean,” asked Mr.
Scrivcn, to which the sergeant replied:

“ Yes, sir, he and several more. ’

" How did these people get hurt?” asked Paul
Van Beaver, in a low tone, as a stretcher passed
out.

The sergeant shrugged his shoulders.

“A panic, they say. 1 don’t know. There
was a light up stairs sornewherc, and the poli—
ticians took a hand in. One man’s dead, they
say, and serve him right.”

“ Who’s that?” asked Paul.

“A fellow they call the Man of Iron. He
was a great fighter, but they’va laid him out,
I hear. The best of them catches it at last.”

Mr. Scriven said no more, but beckoned to
Paul and they went in.

The sergeant looked hard at SnOcpey.

“ls that fellow with you?” he asked.

“He’s a witness,” replied Scriven, gravely.
“I think we’ll get at the bottom of this light
sooner than you expect, sergeant. Are there
plenty of your men inside?"

answered the sergeant, who knew the old law-
yer well; and then they went in and Scriven
said to Paul, quietly:

“Keep your witness in a quiet corner. I’ll
take a room where we can lock him up till we
want him. You can’t trust those tramps. He
may go back on you at the last moment."

He went to the desk, where the clerks, looking
worried and excited, were tryiiyr to settle back
to their work, and speedily engaged a room not
far from the office, into wuich "they got Snoopey
without attracting much notice, locked him in,
and then went upstairs.

Here they were stopped by a policeman, but
a few words in his ear made him say:

“ All right, sir. The captain’s out yonder in
room 17, with the coroner, trying to find out
what began the muss." .

Sci-Even led the way to room 17, and found
two more policemen at the door, while, inside,
the coroner sat at a table, and Several men were
stun ling before him.

One of them was Marcellus Skinner, who was
saying, as they approached:

“ Yes, I recognize the body as that of a man
called Locke, a desperate character. He was
the leader of this strike, and has incited several
riots already. He must, :ave begun this one
and got the worst of ii. I have known Mr.
Somers many years, and i am sure his story can
be depended on.”’

Paul looked into the room over the shoulders
of the policemen, and saw, lying on the table.
the figure of Larry L‘ntkt-B, the f».-ca all covered
with blood. and he said, in a [one of horror:

“ My God! The poor fellow’s killed.”

His uncle hear-.2 his voice, and turned his head

but Paul and Scriven walled into the room, and
the old lawyer said to the coroner, a ho appeared
to be‘ 8111‘ used at the intrusion of straiigcrsi

“Mr. Coroner. this gentleman has a witness
whose evidence may throw light on this ques
tion. Which is the man they call Shin-31's?”

The coroner liited his eyebrows.

“This gentleman is called S-ilfilel'splhe said,
pointing to a large man who stood by Skinner.
‘ He says that he was assaulted by this Locke,
and struck him with a ruler in self-defense.”

' Scriven nodded absently. I

“Ay, ay, '30 that‘s the man. Can we bring
in our Witness? I expect to prove that this
poor fellow on the table was decoys-d here by
some pretext, on purpose to murder him in the
crowd and confusion. and that the plot was
made up last night by Mr. Skinner and this
very man SumerS, who is a tramp and thief. ’

Had a thunderbolt fallen the sensation could
not have been greater.

The coroner stammcred:

" Mr. Scriven, sir, consider.
serious accusationé”

“ I know it,” returned the old la‘.-.'ycr, coolly.
“ But I‘m preparer] to prove it. Don’t let them
out. Look at their faces.“

Marcellus Skinner and Somers, both deadly
pale, were staring open-mouthed at S=.-rchn;
but Skinner recovered himself enough to say,
indignantly:

“It’s a vile conspiracy, because I’ve taken
away my business from him. Don‘t listen to
him. Mr. Coroner.”

“The law compels the gentleman to hear all
witnesses,” retorth SJriVen, sharply. “You
never took your business from me, sir, till I re-

This is a Very

 

“ Tne captain’s there with the whole reserve,” ‘

to favor him' with a glance of great malignity, ‘

are they?”

“ What names did you say?” asked the police
captain.

“Jim Maguire and Steve Sutton.
they didn't:- get it as bad as I did, Gap.”

The captain whispered something to the
coroner, and left the rorm. when Skinner said:
“Well, Mr. Coroner. I suppcse there’s no
more necessity for my presence, is there?”

His tone was deci'rrily uneasy, but Somers
instantly took alarm and growled:

“Yes, there is. Me and you’s in the same
boat. Stay here and see it out.”

Skinner whispered to him but the disguised
tramp obstinately reiterate :

“I tell you we’re in the same boat and we
sink or swim together. None of your games,
C: ) Skinner. I’ve spied with you afore.”

he coroner listened to the amiable conversa-
tion and stared, for his esteemed friend Mr.
Skinner was begun-ng to loom up on him in
rather a dubious light».

“You can’t leaw the room till the examina-
tion is over,” he so id, awkwardly. “ Of course,
Mr. Skinner, nethinc has appeared yet to im-
plicate you in any way—3’

“'1 should hope. not,” said Skinner, hastily.
“ I was on the outside stairs, with Mr. Trainor,
when the affair began, and I ran into the street.
I should like to know why I can’t go, Mr. Coro-
ner.”

'“ Well, you see. you’re a witness, and it may
be nec ssary to cross-examine you.” sai-z! the
coroner, still more awkwardly. “As a favor
to me, please remain, 3 r. Skinner. We won't
be very long now."

“ But l’ve got business,” objected Skinner.
“If you want me. ycu can send for me. I
won’t stay, unless I’m forced.”

And he was walking toward the door, while
the coroner was trying to make up his mind to

I hOpe

stop him, when he was confronted by old
Scriven, who walked in, leading a wehzen—

faced, ragged man. to whom he said:

" Is that the man?"

“Yes, boss,” returned Snoopey. promptly,
but very pale; “and yon’s Terror Jilll. Dm't
let him nigh mc,l;vo~‘s, fur Godsake. He‘s a bad
man. he is, a realm: terror.”

“ Who is this fellow 2" asked the coroner,
amaze-l at the intrusion. “Is this your wit-
ncss, Mr. Scrivcn :"

“Yes, sir.” replied the lawyer, quietly, “and
a very good witness. too. If you‘ll allow me to
question him before you, you will admit he
knows a little 0:: this :.fl"air.’

Terror Jim was glaring at Suoopey like a
tiger gloating owr a lamb, and Snoopey kept
his eyes carefully averted.

Skinner, on the other hand, was staring at
the little tramp with an intent anxiety that
showed that he had no idea what his evidence
was going to be. ‘

The coroner bummed and hawed.

“ That is a very unusual course. Mr. Seriven.“

“I know it, sir, and I only do it to save you
the trouble. I’ve hv-l‘ll over the man’s prudence.
If you prefer it. I’ll sag-zest the questions."

“No, no, no,” returned the coroner. hastily.
“ It. will save time. Go on, sir; go on.”

Scriven' took in his trembling witness and sat
him down with his back to Terror Jim, remark-
ing as he did so: '

“I hope, Mr. Coroner, that this witness will
be. protected from browbeatin . He is a man
of timid fem rament, and t is man Somers
has tvraunize, ovg‘ him for years.”

“ Certainly. certainly," answered the coroner,
and then‘the examination proceeded under old
Scriven’s skillful questioning, till Snooper had
told the whole story of the plot which he had

 

overheard, the night before; had pointed out.
' Somers, in all his glory of new clothes and
: shaven face, as the tramp, Terror Jim, and
9 added:
l , " Ef you want the names of the pals Terror
i Jim brought with him, I' kin give you them: but
, for the Lordsake, gentlemen, hide me, so they
‘ won’t see me." '

" Why so?" asked the coroner.

Snoopey shuddered violently.
, “ They’d kill me wherever they found me,"
‘l.e said in a low tone, at which Terror Jim
I laughed.

“ And you’d better‘b'lieve they’ll do it any-
how, you, Snoopey,” he said, with concentrated
malignity. “ I wouldn't he in your shocs when
you go on the road next, Sn00pey.”

, Snoopey tried to gun, but it was a sickly
" failure, till Scriven said:
" Much obliged to you. S’ mers, but we’re not

i going to send this poor f‘dlow adrift after he‘s 

told his story. He won’t. go on the road any
more."

The smile on Suoopey’s face became one of
positive. beatltu le as lhe lawyer added:

. “ Of course, Mr. Coroner, this has been all an
informal affair. You haven’t now even a body
tosit on. NrVEI‘lhklOSS,I moVe for the com-
mitment of Mr. Skinner and his friend Somers
here, on a Charge of conspiracy to kill, till i can
get. a regular commitment from a. magistrate.”

Skinner uttered a cry of rage.

" Mel Commit. me!” he cried.. “It’s an out-
rage! Will you take a tramp’s word against
mine? Commit me if you dare. You’re only a
coroner. I m i‘y you.”

And be rushed to tl:e door, followed by Ter-
ror Jim, drawmg a pistol as he went.

 

CHAPTER XXXVI.
CONCLUSION.

THE policemen at the door insfantly sprung
forward to arrest the escaping men when a
flash and report were followed by the fall of
one of the cfllcers, and Marcellus Skinner, seem
ingly I‘ous=_-d to :1 int zy of desperation that ren-
dered l‘vim regardless of consequt-nces, dashed
past the othtr one, dodging a blow of his club,
and ran down the corridor, the smoking pistol
in his hand.

Terror Jim, more powerful, but more in
dread of the law, wavered a moment, and in
:2tmthel‘ was krocked down and s» cured.

The mill owner was already lost in the crowd
outside, when Lorry Locke, all bloody from his
recent beating, darth after him down the cor
ridor, came up with him when he had almost
got to the street, and seized him by the arm:.;
with a trip and wrench Lirry threw Marcellus
up in the air and brought him down on the mar-
ble pavement with a bang that sent the pistol fly-
ing and knocked the breath out of the iron—
master’s body.

In another moment he was secured, and
Larry observed to Paul Van Beaver, as the
young man came running up:

“ Mr. Paul, I reckon that ends the strike, and
the sooner I get washed up the better.”

“Washed up,” echoed Paul. “You’ll have
to go to the hospital, Larry. Your head‘s all
covered with bruises and cuts.”

Larry laughed.

“It takes more’n that to kill me, Mr. Paul.
I’ll wash up and go home to Molly or some of
them darned fools ’ll be goin’ home to tell her
I’m dead.”

And he walked away to the washroom. as
steadily as if nothing ailed him. '

then he. emerged again. no one would have
thought that the Man of Iron had been in a
fight at all, to look at him.

He had not a mark on his face, and the cuts
and bruises on his head were concealed by his
thick hair, wI-ilc he walked as steadily as if h(-
had never been hurt at all. .

He took Paul’s arm and they went out into
the street, when the police captain came up and
said to Larry:

“ You were looking for your friends, S Mon
and Maguire. I’ve found them for you. One’s
in the hospital, and the other‘s gone home with
a stab in the shoulder. The one in the hospital
had his arm broken.”

“And did you find Terror Jim’s gangt" asked
Larry, eagerly.

The captain nodded.
“Five- of them, and I’ll have the rest before
dark. you bet.” ‘ '

“How did you find them .5" asked Paul.

The smart captain hesitated.

“Will you keep it dark, it 1 tell you, till the.
rest are caught?‘

“ Certainly.”

“ Well, it’s simple enough. They came in this
morning and they were all taken to one barber-
shop and made decent. Then Skinner took them
to a clothing-store and rigged them all out. I
found one by Snoopey and found where he got
his clothes. The detectives are looking up the
rest by the clothes, and they'll have them sure.
if they stay in Holesburc‘, we‘ll have them, and
as soon as they get out on the roads they’re
worse off. for tramps don’t go about in new
clothes. Two of them have broken down and
owned up already ”

"Indeed?" said Paul, “and what have you
found out? Who set them on ?”

The captain smiled.

“You'll find out soon enough. It was you
they were coll-ing after as soon as they had got
rid of Lin y Locke."

“Met” echoed Paul. “ Why me? I had noth—
ing to do with the strike.”

The captain shrugged his shoulders.

“I don‘t know as to that. but I kn0w they
were coming after you, next. Tnat uncle of
yours don’t Seem to love you any too much.”

Then he went away to attend to his duties,
and they proceeded down the street. Ftul in a
thoughtful, abstracted mood, till they neared
Kelly & Barr's mill, when they were surprised ’
to find the cat‘s open while Ill: smoke from the
top of the bin tvfurn‘ cri- and a crowd or' work-
man within at their "mi-us avocations showed
that work had been resumed there.

Larry and Paul ‘ent in, and the first person
they saw was Kelly himself, looking full of
c‘ eerful bustle, giving orders here and there as
he moved around.

As soon as he saw Larry he came up to him,
saying:

“Mr. Locke, the strikes over as far as I’m
concerned. I've given in to the old scale. I
hips you’ll give us no further trouble.”

 

“ Have you slim»! an agreement to that end?" ' .
asked Larry, iuei. du tu‘lv. “l
" Nu, no, tut I‘m ’o wing to do it,” said Kelly
eagerly. “My men .icrt'ed to come in wit bout
Waiting, and I Ve prcndsei them extra pay for '
the balcony to day on condition they would go

to wo» k at Once.”

“ Very wt ll,” said Larry, coolly, “then if .
you’ll come into the. office and sign the avrtze‘ l “
ment with the Union, all right. If not I’lI tell 1.,
the men to stop work again.” "

Kelly winced, but he had to yield. ‘ ‘

“You're a hard man,” he said, “I’ll come in I 
and Sign.” ' l
“ And give notice afterward to all hands, so ' 71

that there will be no backing out,” said Larry
firmly. “You‘d no business to call the strike
at an end without a regular paper.”

Kelly made a g1 imacP.

“ Cout‘ound it. man, we heard you were dead,”
he said. “ You’re. as hard as iron.”

The next day the strike ended all over Holes z
burg and a uniform scale of wages was agreed '
to by all the manufacturers save Skinner, who '
tould not agree to anything, being in prison my ‘
tier charge of ctmspiiacy with intent to kill. ‘-

It was a tough pill for the bosses to swallow,
hut Kellv & Barr’s submiSsicn, as Larry had
foreseen, had brought them all to the point of
humility when they were willing to do any-
thing to put their property into productive
shape once more.

.The Skinner mill alone remained cold and
Silent in the mids of the general activity, and
Boss Skinner languished in jail, while fifteen ‘
hundred workmen lay idle Still, and 'd’itll the 3 ‘
inconsmteney of ignorance, were ready to curse
Larry for being the innocent cause of their p.1y— '
master’s imprisonment. ’

Larry himself felt this keenly and said to
Paul one day:

“ Mr. Paul, here’s a lot of men out of work ‘
and they can’t get tack if your uncle isn’t let Alli
out of jail. I don’t want to be hard on him. 
He’s down now, and I can‘t hit a man when he’s .‘
down. Let’s go to Mr. Scriven and see what !
we kin do for him.”

The result of the conversation was a visit. to '1
Skinner in the jail managed by the Olll lawyer
who afterward went to see Van Slack and thé = 
District Attorney.

Marcellus Skinner, in coasid :ra‘don of the
prosecution being cropped. agr. ed to sell out : ‘
the mill business under the clause in bi. father’s
will, and Paul on his part, gav: up his share of
the money and took the mill into his own
wands, agreeing to pay to his uncle a. large
z.l]nl11t)' out of the profits. ‘

To set things going it was necessary for him 3
to. borrow mOney, but capituzists are always i
willng to invest in a good pay arc: business, and g »
three days after the agreemen“ was signed lire
Skinner mill opc ed again with Larry Locke .
l'ttir manager and Paul as owner and propri- ik "
k' 01'.

Once more Holesburg reéchoed to the clung of
the tilt-hammers and the black strips on the 3
tall chimney of the Skinner mill became a land
mark of industry. .

Marcellus Skinner left the city and went off 5’. '
with his son, no one knew who: 8.  *

They heard of him occasionally, whenever he: {9

, .
l

 

4-0"! A ..- 4-
v

K's.

\uig. ~.

..;::'r

(1.“.

... 5'2)“: I“-

wanted money, till at last cam 3 the news that _. ,
he had perished at sea in a yflz'hl.‘ that he had '. . 
bought to erjoy himself in.

A few months later a poor tramp came to

 

 

 

Paul’s door to leg for charity, and Paul recog— 
nized in the pitiful object hi: natural cousin,  d3
Tom Train-or, ruluced to a. wr; c}: from dissipa— ~ 
tion and starvation, ’  9

Poor Tom was humble enough and his cousin “Iii.
freely forgave him all the insults of the past ‘
when Torn had been up and Paul down.

He took him into his house. clothed and fed
him and gave him a place in the mill, where
Tom gradually worked his Why to being a. re;
specta ble man.

As for Larry he is known 10—day as one of
the best practical men in the iron trade and has
long ago turned the little shanty on the rocks
into a handsome house, for he would not sell
the site where he had first seen Molly.

“No,” he says. “ know it‘s a long way Out,
and I know l‘m able to afford a better mention,
as people call it; but I earned this place by my '
first wages, and it cost me a hard fight- to keep- '
it. I’ll live in it all my days just to make me l
remember that a man’s got to slick to his colors 1
if he hopes to win in the fight between labor
and c pital.”

v‘mx-u. m ...m.

’T

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W..1
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'AL‘).

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THE END. 

 

‘ I haveaposltlve rcmudy fur the above disease; by its as;
thousands of cases of the worst. kind and of long standing;
have been cured. Indecd, so strong is my faith in its efi‘icacy‘,
that 1 willsend TWO BOTTLES F BE, together with a VAL-
I’ABLE TREATISE on this disease, to an sufferer. Give Ex;
prcSfifia P. 0. address. Du. '1‘. a. SLOC 181 Pearl. EL, N . Y,

~»-.«-—-.~uwws~u\.~.~.wfi

.,~.4\ ‘- ’u“ ‘Iv'wléfi'v‘n':

 A Leading London thr
I ician establishes an
Oilicc in New York;
for the Cure of

EPELEPTIC F271;.

 

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of Epilepsy, has without doubt trailed and Cured him
than any other living physll'lu'i. its success has smip
Ilrlllnlshlllg‘; we have hear 1 ol‘cu-u} fever g0 years 5
lug succeséfully cured by him. 11..- has publishul a war .
this disease, whichhe sends with a large bottle of Illa v.
dcrful cure free to any sufferer who may send their expiur‘
and P. 0. Address We advise any one wishing a cure to 
dress Dr.AB. unsanonn, No. 9.: John so, New Yorzz. 5. _

 

 

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PEOPLE WITH THE SMALL COM-
PLAINT.

BY J0 KING.

 

What a terrible way seine folks have
Of complaining at littlest things;

The smallest affairs in the world _
Are worse than the troubles of kings.

I think that such people are small,

And shouldn‘t be noticed at all.

But still it’s a way that they have, .
And they never could quit if they (1 try;
Now I’ve made it the rule of my life
To let the small troubles goby.
Those people complain of their 10’—
I find fault with my house, and get hot.

Some ersons from morning till night .
Of their health will ne‘er cease to complain;
I think it a grievous shame, _
And I wish they would learn to refrain.
At my health I never Will growl;—
Of sickness it is that I howl.

We all have a right in this world,
And yet I am sorry to say
Some people with little to do
Of their neighbors complain every day;
The very worst thing ever was,
Which I never will do—without cause.

You often see people sit down
To dine in a public hotel, '
And growl at the victuals and drink
And grumble that naught is done well.
Now I ask of you, how does it look?
’Tis shameful. 1 rail at the cook.

I know to be justly content ‘
Is a difficult thing for us all;—
You daily hear men on the street
Complain that their income is small;
But they always have something to mumble:—
It’s because mine’s not larger I grumble.

Some people will always find fault

With the weather; e‘er making a fuss,
Of the sun or the rain or the shade:

You know how such things sound to us.
As to me now I never grow mad
At the weather—unless it is bad.

Some people just hunt to find fault
And grumble and growl as they go.
Oh, let us be atient and bear
In silence a l troubles below.
I never, the blessed day long.
Complain—unless something’s gone wrong.

 

Around thflamp-Fire.

BY CAPTAIN RINGWOOD.

Bill Grady’s Ghost.

“N0, boyees, Bill Grady hain’t afeard 0’
nothiu’ on this airth, not as I knows on, an’
ther Lord knows, of I doose say it myself, I’ve
been tried right smartly an’ oftenly.”

And Bill Grady was right. All over the bor-
der he was known as Dare-devil Bill. And if
ever a man deserved such a title he certainly
did. Probably, with the exception of Old
Grizzly Adams, Kit Carson, and one or two
others, he had been in more Indian fights,
single-handed combats and the like, than any
other man in the West.

“But, Bill,” said Old John, slyly, “there was
a time once when you turned tail and scooted.”

A general laugh went round, for we all knew
to what the speaker alluded.

“Yes, cap’n, an’ I hain’t ashamed to own up
fa’r an’ squar’. But then, yur see, thet war a

 

- thing es no man could stan’ up afore. Yur

couldn’t hurt. it, an’ how the deuce war I to
know but what it’d do fur me?

“A feller can’t font them ’ere ghosts nohow,
leastwise not to do enny good.

“ Thar hev been a monstrous sight 0’ talk an’
some lyin’ ’bout thet leetle sarcumstance, an’
l’m jess a-goin’ to tell yur fellers how it r’a’ly
war.”

“' Good, Billee! Go ahead!” said Rube.

“ Well, yur see, one winter achap as had kem
out from Kaintuck war took by the Cheyennes,
an’ carried off to ther villages in the walleye uv
the Big Horn.

“ He war wi’ the imps a matter uv two years
or more, an’ then, while most uv the warriors
war off on a rampage, he roped a mustang,
stole a old flint—lock smooth-bore, an’ out fur
the settlenwnts.

“A lot uv us boyees war at the post when
Kaintuck got in, an’ be buckled to us right
away, sayin’ as hOW be had a leetle matter to
tell us as would make our mouths water wuss’n
a yearlin’ colt’s as hed been feedin’ on white
clover.

"’ Arter he got res-auperated, es he called it, he
tole us how, clos’t by ther second chief’s village
on the Big Horn, thar war a mount’in uv jess
solid silver, he said, an’ thet, ’stead uv rocks
an’ dornicks, es we ginerally see croppin’ outen
the ground, thar war great hunks of silver oar,
so rich thet it war worth the pure stuff ’most
pound fur pound.

“I tell yur, boyees, sech talk es thet did
make our fiy—traps leak, an’ when he hauled out
a big specimint uv the oar, we struck hands an’
swore we’d jine him.

“We warn’t long a- gittin’ reddy. Thar
warn’t much to do, only lay in plenty uv pow-
der an’ lead, an’ a few extrys, an’ then turn our
faces west’ard, keep our eyes peeled fur red-
skins, an’ foller our noses.

“ We found the Cheyennes wide awake an’

’isen fur skelps, an’ the closer we got to the
Big Horn the more uv ‘em we found, till, durn
my ole leathers, ef they warn’t es plentiful es
checkir-back grasshonpers in dog-days.

“What a sight 0 dodgin’ an’ crawlin’ an’
sn’akin’ it thar war to be shore.

“But we war too menny fur the imps, an’ so,
artei‘ a week uv this work, we re’ched the wal-
ly uv the Big Horn one dark night, an’ camped
into a heavy bit uv timmer, whar we thought
they mou‘t give us the go by.

“ Yur see, our Kaintuck chap know’d ev’ry
inch uv the ground, an’ more, too, an’ be sed es
how ’twuru’t likely the Cheyennes ’d stumble
onto us whar we lay.

“But he war wrong thar, mighty wrong he
war, an’ by his blowin’ this way kem durned
nigh causin’ the hull lot uv us to lose our ba’r.

“A war-party war leavin’ the village the
very day after we arriv’, which uv course war
lucky fur us, on’y it kem monstrous nigh bein’
Onlucky.

“Ther trail they went out on run clos’t by
ther thicket, mebby a dozen rods er so from
whar we war hid.

“ we lay a—Watchin’ the redskins es they filed
past, when, all at onc‘t, Dick Blakey sez,
‘ Boyees! look thar!’ An’ ef thar warn’t a
cussed imp a-comin’ plum center onto us, may
I be chawed by perairy—dorgs.

“I heard half a dozen rifles click, but them
es cocked ’em kem to thar senses an’ didn’t
shoot.

“‘thich way outen this, Billee?’ sez Dick,
a-whisperin’.

“ I hed got my lariat off’n ther saddle, an’
hilt it up, seein’ which ther rest uv ’em stood
back in ther bresh to give me room, thet ar’,
all uv ’em but one, an’ thet one war Kaintuck.

“ I obsarved thet he’d got out his big knife—
he called it a bong/er, an’ he war alioldin’ it
bydther p‘int, wi’ the handle a-hangin’ down-
er s.

“ ‘ Ef yur misses y’ur cast,’ he sez, ‘ I’ll fetch
him wi’ this.’

“I didn’t see it, but thar warn’t no time to
ax .uestions. The red—skin war nigh onto us.

“ s luck would hev it, thar war a little cl’ar-
in’ right afront uv Whar we stood, an’ before
the Injun got into it he bed to pass through a
strip uv thicket thet hid him from t’others uv
the band.

“ ‘Now, then, Billee,’ sed Kaintuck, es ther
Injun stepped into the open, an’ whiz went mv
lariat, throwed wi’ a good aim es ever I mea-
sured in my life.

“ But, Lordy! boyees, yur can't rope a Injun
ef he’s facin’ yur squar’ly. He’ll dodge the
lariat nine times outen ten, sart’in, an’ thet’s
jess what this varniint did.

“Es ther noose settled over his greasy top-
knot, he give a kind uv a squirm. an’ it did
seem to me es ef he’d jumped clean through it,
an’, qmcker’n greased lightiiin‘, be straightened
up, throwed back his head, an‘ Opened his ugly

l mouth fur ther yell thet I knowed war bound
to come next. .

“But it didn’t come, thet yell didn’t, not by
a durned sight.

“Kaintuck war a-standin’ a cupple uv steps
ahint me, an’ at ther minit I see the cast hed
failed, I heard somethin’ whiz past my ear, seen
a kind uv a flash like, an’ thar war thet bouyer
knife a—stickin’ clean up to ther hilt in ther red
niggur’s weezin-pipe. .

“ He war on’y able to make a kind uv a gu’g‘
glin’ noise in his throat, an’ then went down all
uv a heap, es dead es a two-year-old beaver

elt

“It war done splendid, boyees, and I sw’ar I
couldn’t hardly help fetchin’ a whoop myself.

“ Now then I reckin yur fellers ar’ all a-sayin’
What ther blazes hev this got to do wi’ ther
ghost es skeered Bill Grady? Well, I’ll tell yur
right away. _

“This war-party kept on es ef they didn’t
miss the teller we’d rubbed out, an’ I reckin
they didn’t fur a good spell, an’ so we lay snug
an’ safe in the Chaparral all that day, waitin’
fur night to come ag’in.

“Well, it did come along, by—em-by, an’ as
dark es a pile uv mink-skins; jess such a one es
we wanted to re‘ch the big cave on the moun-
t’in whar the silver war.

“ We war a-goin’ to make ther cave our quar-
ters while at Work.

“ By a cupple uv hours arter dark we war at
the place, our trail all kivered so’s a double-
nose p’inter couldn’t ’a’ follered, an’ reddy fur
a look arter the stuff as had fetched us thar.

“We soon found that Kaintuck hadn’t
stretched the blanket, not an inch.

“ The oar fa’rly crapped outen the groun’, an’
great chunks uv the solid could be knocked
loose wi’ our hammers.

“ ’Long to’ards daybreak. yur see, we war
workin’ in a place whar the Injuns hed dug out,
an’ war usin’ a torch, when one uv the boyees
kem t’arin’ in with the word that the lnjuns
war onto us.

“He hed seen one standin’ on a p’int uv rocks
jess above whar we wur at work.

“We let loose all holts an’ traveled fur the
cave, but thar warn’t no attack, an’ the night
passed off quietly. .

“Next day we laid low till to’ards evenin’,
an’ then half uv us went minin’, while t’others
stayed on guard.

“ We hedn’t been at it long afore the feller as
war on watch kem in reportin’ Injuns ag’in.

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“ Thar on

“He hed seen one in ther same place as the
night before.

“We made a rush, an’ shore enuff thar stood
a red-skin up on a pint uv rock, his figger
showin’ out cl’ar ag’in’ the sky beyond.

“He never mOVed, nor yelled, nor northin’,
but purty soon he jess kinder went out like—
disappeared, yur know.

“ We made fur ther cave ag‘in in a hurry, I
tell yur, but still thar warn’t no attack.

“The next night it war the same, an’ so it
war fur three more arter that. Yur see, the
thing war gettin’ ser’ous now, an’ the boyees
begin gettin’ a leetle, jess a leetle skeery.

“ The fifth night I detarmined to watch my—
self. I knowed the moon, which war in the
new, would give a good light, an’ 50’s to see the
thing better, I got cover within a short dis—
tance.

“The boyees worked away ontil ’long to’ards
midnight, an’ I war jess on the p’int uv goin’ in
an’ givin’ the word to quit, when all at onc’t
the Injun war thar !

“The moon war shinin’ bright, an’ thar warn’t
a twig atween him an’ me, so I had a good
squar’ look at the imp.

“ Well, boyees, I will say I don’t never want
to be scar’t ag’in like that.

“I felt my ha’r riz right up, an’ my knees
got kind or weakly under me, an’ no wonder.

“Thar on thet rock stood ther Injun Kain-
tuck hed killed, an’ wuss’n all, thar war thet
identical bouyer-knife a—stickin’ into his weezin,
an’ the blood a~runnin’ down his naked breast.

“ It war lookin’ straight at me, an’ wi’ ther
awfullest eyes thet ever enny human see.

“Scart? Why, thet ain’t no name fur it! I
war most dead, boyees, I war to a sart’inty. I
dunno how I got back to whar the boyees war
workin’, but they sed I looked mostly like a
corpse when 1 rushed in. When they went out
to look, ther thing war gone.”

“Well, Billy, asked one of the boys, as the
other paused, “did you see it the next night?”

“Did I see it ther next night? ’Ee durned
jackass, do yur reckin I war goin’ to stay thar ?
No, we didn’t see it, fur ef thet ghost kept up
with thet party a-travelin’ fur the settlements,
he war a long~legged ghost, that’s all I’ve got to
say.

“ No, sir-ee; we left them diggin’s, an’ may I
never chaw bufller ag’in ef we didn’t git in sech
% héll‘l‘y thet most all ther stuff war left be-

in

“Now, boyees, this sounds quar’ but it ar’
true, every word uv it. I don’t know how to
explain ther sarcumstaiice, but I’ve told yur
jes‘s as it took place.”

 

 

IN many of the business houses of Paris, and
espemally in those in which the cellars are used
as offices, glass is now being extensively em-

 

ployed, instead of boards, for flooring.

NEW YEAR‘S MORNING.

BY C. V. TEIXEIRA.

 

Clang out, e merry bells, a glad New Year,
Peal fortlsii your music to the frosty night,
Let notes of harmony in gleesome flight

Ring musically forth. Yea, loud and clear,
Proclaim with brazen throats the happy tale,
And sing to this our glad New Year al hail!

Let your sweet music harbinger good cheer,
Peace, love, prosperity, and, as we sail

Forth o’er the waters 0 futurity.

Send aftei us across this unknown sea .

'I by many-voiced ban TOJ/«U/t’. Thus, as a light
Doth cheer the storm-tossed sailor, so shall we
Take heart from thy melodious melody. ,
Ring out then, bells, loud, clear and Joyfully.

 

A Blow for a Blow.

BY H. S. KELLER.

 

 

Romano FRANCEsCA and C‘ll‘l Rudiger, two
art students studying in Venice, were both
deeply smitten by the wondrous charms of
Claire O’Dale, the fair northern beauty from
Athlone, Ireland.

Francesca was a native of Corsica, while the
fair—faced Rudiger was from Berlin.

Previous to the coming of this beautiful en-
chantress, known throughout the Queen City of
the Sea as Claire of Athlone, the two young
men were the best of friends.

Their mission in Venice was the same—art.
They were both enthusiastic pupils of Villenta,
the master artist of his day. Now, a coldness
has sprung up between them; they no longer
address one another in the familiarity of old;
they no longer confide to one another their
future aspirations and, except for a mere bow
of the head when they enter and leave the
studio of their teacher, they would easily be
taken as strangers to each other.

’Twas the old story. The face of one woman
has broken the bond of friendship; the siren
smile of the fascinator has sent the black clouds
of hate into two noble, young hearts.

The good mother Nature had done much for
Claire of Athlone, in making her outwardly
beautiful, as ravishingly perfect in face and
form as the most idealistic poet’s furthest
dream. But, as is the case, alas! too often—her
heart is false. There are none of the purer

 

 

thet rock stood ther Injun Kaintuck hed killed.”

thought-channels in her nature, which daily
send their subtle influence into the organ of
life. She was born a coquctte, has lived a
coquette and will die a coquette. Hard lines
perhaps, to render unto a member of the gen—
tler sex; yet, like all truths, the truth in this
particular instance, soonest told is best told.

The Venetian Carnival is in full blast, and
the Grand Canal is full of brilliantly-lighted
gondolas. Each craft has its occupants, lazily
reclining upon the velvet cushions behind the
rich silken curtains.

The canal front of the Doge‘s palace is—dark.
No gayly-colored lanterns grace its massive
proportions. And the only sign of adornment to
commemorate the festive occasion of the hour,
is the wreath of withered roses placed upon the
Idon of St. Mark by some mischievous Venetian

ade.

In the Grand Square, Mercia Crecentia, the
flower-girl, stands by the side of her table,
laden with flower-knots and nosegays. The
roses upon the table can scarcely rival the roses
of her cheeks. Her eyes, black and limpid as a
5108’s, are fixed upon the line of gondolas passing
before her.

Suddenly she utters a soft ejaculation of de—
light, as a long, slim craft with a white banner
trailingin its wake approaches. The gondola is
moored, and a tall, agile figure 9 rings to the
narrow curb. The new-comer tel s the gondo—
lier to await him there, after which he passes to
the flower-stand where Mercia is.

He is masked; from under the lower part of
his mask-curtain a slim, black imperial de-
scends. He lays his hand gently upon the flower
girl’s arm and says:

“Sweet Mercia, did you think I would never
come?”

A glad light came into the girl’s eyes as the
accents of his voice fell upon her ears like
sweetest music.

“I knew you would come. You said you
would.”

“And you can place such trust in a stranger,
Mercia?” asked he.

“When the heart whispers, the mind must
but obey,” responded she, softly.

“Come, Mercia, go with me. I will reveal
myself to you this night. I have only met you
as the masked cavalier; and now I shall raise
you to such a position that the proudest woman
in all this proud City of the Sea, fair Venice,
shall envy you your lot.”

His voice was soft, low and very earnest. Its
tones thrilled the girl to her very heart—core.
If he had told her to cast herself into the glim—
mering waters of the canal, and had spoken in
that low, love-laden tone, she would haVe
obeyed, because he so willed it.

The flower-stand was left in charge of a
crippled old crone who was sitting in the
shadow. She gazed after the departing pair

 

as she leaned upon her stuff near the stand.

 

 

Her toothless jaws trembled; her thin blue lips
parted, and she mumbled:

“ The rare and virtuous flower girl of the
Grand Square has gone forever. He has won
her by the black art of the fiend’s s ell. Fare-
well, sweet Mercia; your cheeks wi l_ fade like
your rose'leaves here; then—you Will be cast
aside, as you’ve often thrown them to the
winds, to make room for fresher ones.” _

The gondola into which the masked cavalier
helped Mercia passed down the Grand Canal.
turned into a smaller channel and was moored
at the rear of a tall, imposing structure.
Through a dark hallway, whose floor was cov-
ered by richest rugs and mats, the girl was con-
ducted. Into a room, dark as the hallway, she
was led.

“ Stand here, sweet. Be not afraid, dear
girl. Now!”

The masked cavalier clapped his hands, once,
twice. thrice. A vivid flash of light. A rosy
glow following the first fl‘lSll. And—Mercia
saw her lover standing in the center of the
spacious room. The mask was off; his fine fea-
tures were fully revealed. From his neck hung
a flashing collar of blue velvet and—depending
from it was that insignia, which denoted him
to be the—first gentleman in Venice.

“ My lord! I——”

“Rise, sweet Mercia, my own love. You
can love your devoted Doge in his palace as
well as you could the unknown cavalier, can
you not?” asked he, lifting the kneeling girl.

“ I—you are noble; I am—”

“ The sweetest girl in the world. The grand-
est lady in Venice. My love.”

And this was why the Doge‘s palace was dark.
While the outside world was having its round
of pleasure—within the palace of the Doge, the
lord of this massive pile was entertaining the
idol of his heart, Sweet Mercia, the once flower-
girl of the Grand Square. Once humble, but
now—holding in her rosy alms power only se-
cond to that of Ferranti uc de Mario, Doge
of Venice.

The end of this little life drama may be
tragedy. Perhaps it will pay the reader in-
terest to follow the fortunes of three first men—
tioned, Romero, Carl, and Claire of Athlone.

 

“ I cannot consider your proposal for one.
minute,” said the lovely Claire, tapping the Ori-
ental rug with her slippered foot.

“Perhaps Francesca would fare better were
be standing here in my place,” uttered Rudiger.

   

. .. l

“ Sir; you have no right—”

“ Ah! my dear lady, love gives one the right
to say much. I repeat my assertion—”

“ And you need not,” angrily interrupted the
Irish beauty, now fully aroused. Ere the other
could speak, she had pulled the bell-cord, imme—
diately after which the door of the richly-be-
decked room was opened, and the man-servant
entered.

“ Show this gentleman to the door,” ordered
she, in an imp *rious tone, pointing townrd the
figure of the German, whose fair features were
now livid with passion and rage.

“ One Word, madam, before 1 go. I’ve seen it
all. You love. Romero Francesca. You have
played with my heart. Let your accepted lover
beware- ”

~“Bah! only a coward threatens a man be-
hiiid his back. You are no gentleman, and—
But please relieve me of your presence,”
haughtily interrupted Claire of Atlilone.

“ am no coward, madam. And were Fran-
cesca present 1—”

“\Vell, what?” broke in a third voice. The
servant was pushed away from the door, and
Romero Francesca stepped into the room.

“Ah, Romero! why did you come? If you

had staid away—"
_ “ I should not now have the pleasure of listen-
ing to Carl Rudiger’s remarks concerning my-
self. Speak, nian! I am here to answer in per—
son.” The olive complexion was now green
With fury as the young artist strode toward the
tall figure of the German who awaited liim
calmly, and with folded arms.

I be fair girl clasped her hands, and gazed in
horror upon the pair. What bosom friends
they had once been! \Vhat bitter enemies they
are now! Ah! the power of one woman’s face
has Worked a wondrous change in their hearts.
Once friends. Now deep enmity liolds each in
thrall.

“Again I ask explanation—3’

“ This, then, is my response,” the German
stepped forward and laid his hand softly against
his rival’s cheek.

“Ah! tho! is your object, Carl Rudiger. I
demand satisfaction for this insult,” uttered
Romero, brushing the hand aside.

“ I am ready to give .i t, whenever you desire,
Romero Ii mucosca,” said the other, bowing liiiii—
self out.

After he had departed, Romero turned to the
fair girl who was leaning against the casement.
Her eyes were wild with fear. Her lips mut-
tered a prayer for the safety of her lover.

“ Claire, my fair one, let u: enjoy the present
for~the ll]01‘l'()“"s sun will fall upon—the corpse
of—Carl Rudiger or—” I

“Not you, my beloved! not you! Tell me
that you will not fight this fierce German. 110
is skilled with the rapier and—you may full
you my love, my king.” ‘ ’

“Fear not for me, sweet one. He is one of

 

the best swordsmen in Venice. I—am no child
with the rapier. So fear not.”

“ But, my love, if he should kill-you—”

“ You could win other hearts in place of R0—
mero Francesca,” broke in he, clasping her to
his side and pressing a kiss upon her marble
brow. -

“ Tell me, Francesca, is there no way to avoid
this meeting?”

“ Between men, no! He is no coward. I am
—myself. We shall meet, and then—”

“ And then?” interrupted she.

“ The end shall be.”

Under the shadow of a giant cathedral the
two met. Alas! the smile has done its fell
work, and the once bosom friends face each
other. In the heart of each is a hot, passionate
desire to slay. The moon’s rays played upon
the long, glittering weapons which twisted, eii—
twined and flashed sparks as the duel proceeded.
They were well matched. They fought five
minutes and neither received a scratch. Then
they fell back for a slight rest, while the
seconds consulted in the be ckground.

Again the duel I‘eCOlllllli'llCUII. The blades
flushed sparks more wickedly than ever. The
German pressed the other buck with his quick
strokes, and was in turn pressed back by Rome—
ro. Ahl Francesca’s blade is thrust toward the
other’s breast. It almost touches the glossy
linen and—it is swept aside, and Riidiger’s
rapier passes through the heart of Romero
Francesca!

\Vhen the latter fell, the victor was the first
to raise his head.

“ Romero! Slpeak, my friend! Not dead!
My God! gent emen, Romero Francesca, my
bosom friend is dead, dead! slain by the hand
of—liis friend. on, woman, woman! Curses
upon you for this night’s work!” He wrapped
his cloak about his form and wended his way
from the fatal spot.

One year has passed, and the Carnival is
again in full blast. The canals are once more
lighted by the many lined lanterns, and gondo-
las with flashing eyed ladies in them pass along
the water’s course.

And—the beautiful flOWer-girl, Mercia. is at
her flower—stand in the Grand Square. She has
been absent for one year. Her sudden reap-
pearanCe is as strange as her departure was.

“ A knot of roses, please!”

Mercia glanced up quickly. The face of Carl
Rudiger, the German artist, bends above her.
She chooses a knot of roses and hands it to him.

“Please pin it here,” he said, pointing to his
vest—lapel.

She reaches up and—like the sudden flash of
lightning, asmall poniard leaps from her vel-
vet bodice. Before Carl Rud‘ger can defend
himself, the blade is thrnst into his breast.

“ Die, base villain!” she hissed. “ You killed
my brother. Romero Francesca. This is—Ia
vendetta. The daughter of Corsica never for-
getsnto wreak vengeance upon the slayer of her

in.

The German’s liend falls back upon the pave,
and with one groun he expires. The form of
Mercia is lost among the mass which crowds
about the fallen man.

In the north, in one of the finest of Ireland’s
mansions, Claire of Athlonc roads of the
strange assassination of Carl Rudiger, the art—
student.

And, in the Doge‘s puluce, in Venice, Mercia,
mistress of the first noble of the (Queen City of
the Sea, smiles upon her lover, as her heart yet
i'eiicliocs the hot words, “ Ln remit-Ha l" which
she hissed into the ears of the dying man a
fortnight ago upon the (lrund Square!

 

Cash Prizes,
To Authors Known and Unknown!

IN ADDITION to the usual prices which we
pay for contributions to our several LIBRARIES
and to BEADLE'S WEEKLY we offer the follow-
ing prizes:

$500 for the best romance submitted before
February 1st, 1884. It must be from 75,000 to
85,000 words in quantity, and in subject, treat—
ment and story adapted to popular circulation,
viz.: of Wild western or mining life—of the sea
—ot detective life—of city life, etc., etc. Stories
of love, society and domestic life not desirable.

$250 for the second best.

$125 for the third best.

$250 for the best romance submitted as above,
of from 35,000 to 40,000 words in length, and in
nature as above indicated, but more especially
adapted to the reading of boys and young men.

$125 for the second best.

$75 for the third best.

_ $50 for the best Humorous, \Vitty or Comical
Sketch, article or essay in dialect, paraphrase,
travesty or narrative direct. The same may
be a single contribution, or one of a series, or
suggest a succession of contributions in the
same vein. All used after the prize award will
be arranged for by interview or letter.

$735 for the second best.

$15 for the third best.

Manuscripts must be delivered to us fully
prepaid by mail or express. Each package
must be accompanied by a scaled envelope giv-
ing the author's correct name and address, and
marked (on outside) with name of story with
which it is identified. Also, each package, on
its wrapper, must be marked “ FOR I’luzn COM—
PETITION”——otherwise it will not he considered
as in competition for the prizes, but as an or-
dinary contribution.

In case the competitor is one of our regular
corps of contributors, with whose hand-writing
we are familiar, it will be necessary fbr the
work to be copied by some unfamiliar hand and
so sent to us (by mail or express) us to give no
intimation of its author‘s true l‘t sidciice—our
purpose being to assure all contestants of the
perfect impartiality of award.

Manuscripts not successful in the competition
will be held subject to author‘s order or call;
but, if any such are afterward found available
they will be paid for at our usual rates.

Of course we reserve the right of rejecting
any or all the manuscripts offered which fail to
reach the standard already attained by our ad-
inirable cor )S of regular writers—the object of
this offer being first, to enlist additional talent
in our service, and second, to secure what is un-
questionablg superior matter. llonce, what is
inferior is, y that fact, infeasible.

The awards will be made as soon after Felil‘lh
ary 1st as consistent with careful examination.
Manuscripts, however, can be sent in from this
date until February lst—when the list closes-—
and will be. examined in the order of their re-
ception at this office.

For the information of those who have not
heretofore written for Us we call attention to
these, our standing rules and requisitions:

- We prohibit all things offensive to good taste,
in expression or incident—

We prohibit subjects or characters that carry
an immoral Iain!—

We prohibit the repetition of any occurrence
which, though true, is yet better untold——

VV‘e prohibit what cannot be read with satis-
faction by every right—minded person—old and
young alike—

We require your best work——

\Ve require unquestioned originality~

We require pronouncei'l strength of plot and
high dramatic interest of story—

We require grace and precision of narrative
style, and correctness in conip0sition.

Authors should be familiar with characters
and places which they introduce, and not at-
tempt to write in fields of which they have no
personal or acquired knowledge. ‘

Those who fail to reach the standard here iii-
dicuted cannot write acceptably for our spvprn]
Libraries, or for any of our publications. 7

Addre s,

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
08 “'illiam St., New York.