{g-  .

PRAIRIE BRIDE;

OR,

THE SQUATTER’S TRIUMPH.

BY MRS. HENRY J. THOMAS,

BEADLE AND ADAMS. PUBLISHERS,

. ‘ NEW YORK:
. No. as WILLIAM STREET.
1

 

 

Rumored according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1805, at:

IRWIN P. BEADLE a 00,,
In the (Beth‘s Ofllce of the District court or the United Saws to; t3"
Southern District of New York.

 

 
 
  
 
 

    

 
   

THE

PRAIRIE BRIDE.

C II A P T E R I .
THE PIONEERS.

“ BY jingol I b‘lieve somebody has jumped my claim l"

“ There‘s smoke comin’ out of the chimney, that is cer-
tain l”

“ Yes; and I see a woman—there's somebody living there,
sure.”

These exclumations all came from the occupants of a large
covered wagon, which had been slowly toiling along over the
prairie, and had but- just attained the summit of a range of
blufi‘s, near the foot of which stood rt rude but comfortable—
looking log-cabin, evidently of recent construction. ‘

A small stream of water, along whose edge grew a line
of cottonwood trees and hazel bushes, flowed in a spark-
ling thread, just beyond the house, and gave a peculiar charm
to the spot.

Andrew Hosmar, the. first speaker, had, about six months
previous to the opening of our story, left his family in Ken-
tucky while he went to Iowa. to select it “ claim " from the
public lands, intending, if the country suited him, to return for
his family, and establish himself where he and his four
sturdy boys could “ have a chance,” as he expressed it, “ to
spread themselves.”

The boundless prairie—the rich black soil so deep and mel-
low, wniting patiently under its waving green mantle, for the
plow and the hand of mun to call forth its riches——dolighted
him, and after spending a few weeks in “ looking around," he

'tound a section that particularly pleased him—erected a cabin

upon it, made a few other improvements, and then, without
taking the precaution of pre—empting it, thinking in do so at

‘~

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

leisure, and not expecting to be long absent, he returned
to Kentucky for his family. But, alas!
“The best laid plans 0' mice an’ men
Art gang agree.”

Hosmar was detained in Kentucky nearly three months by
sickness, and when, after a tedious and wearisome journey of
several weeks, he reached his little prairie cabin, it was to dis-
cover another person in possession. In western phrase, some
sharper had “jumped his claim.”

The party in the wagon remained silent for several moments,
but, at length, Mrs. Hosmar, a weak, thded-lecking woman,
with pale-blue eyes and sun - burnt hair, asked, appre-
hensively:

“ What are you a-goin’ to do, Hosmar?"

The man did not. reply, but with compressed lips and glit-
tering eyes, spoke a sharp “ gee up l” to his tired horses, and
started down the side of the blufl‘. In a few moments more he
stopped before the cabin door.

A man, tall, lank, and in his shirt-sleeves, sauntered out
upon the steps as the wagon came to a halt, and saluted Hos.
mar with :

“ How do do, stranger? Want to stop ‘2”

“ Ruther reckon I do! It‘s been my calculation fur some
time, to stop when I got here !” was the curt repiy.

“Ahl is that so? Wal, we ain’t much in the habit of
keepin’ strangers. House is rut/aer small for that ; but cl' yer
a mind to put up with sich accommodations as we’ve got,
wh'y—"

“I don't want any of your accommodations; this cabin
belongs to me, and—”

“ B’longs to you? Wal, that’s cool, I swear l” interrupted
the man on the steps. “ Got ycr papers in yer pocket '3" he
added, with an attempt at wit.

“ Yes, it belongs to me,” replied IIosnmr, trying to keep Irii
temper under control and speak calmly. “ I built this cabin
last spring; I’m here with my family to occupy it, and
I want. to know what right you have to be in possession of

it P"

“ As good a right as I’ve any occasion fur, my friend ; and
04‘ you'll take the trouble to go to the land-emce, you k'm find

 

   
 
   
 
 

 

 

    

 
    
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

         
 

m “ JUMPED ” CLAIM.

 

out. that this piece of land, and what’s on it, belongs to a man
earned Bill H. Larkins—an’ that’s me 1”

“Well, Mr. Lat-kins, if you expect to cheat me out of this,
you’ll find yourself a-dealin’ with the wrong man; and the
sooner you make up your mind to quit, the better it’ll be fur
you, fur I swear by the stars, that the cabin I hev built fur
my own use shall never stand to shelter your cowardly head 1”
exclaimed Hosmar.

“Don‘t- make no threats, stranger, ’tain’t healthy! and I
think that a man as is fool enough to take up apiece of land
like this and then leave the country without pre-empting it, or
gettin’ any title to it, expectin’ everybody to walk ’round .it

' and keep off till he gits ready to come back to it, ain’t quite

sharp enough to prosper in these diggin’s, an’ had better travel
on a spell till he comes to a place whar thar ain’t anybody
else ’round 1"

This speech was delivered with perfect sangfroz‘d, as the
speaker deposited a huge quid of tobacco in his capacious
mouth.

But IIosmar did not give him a chance to enjoy the morselI
tar, with the spring of a tiger, he leaped from his Wagon
and grasped him by the throat.

“ Take thatt and that! you infernal rascal! I’ll thrash the
life out of you 1”

The vigorous blows that emphasized nearly every word,
seemed likely to make his threat good, for the attack had been
so sudden and so furious, that Larkins was taken at a disad-
vantage, and had it not been for his better-half, the squatter
would certainly have fared hardly; but she, seeing the help-
less condition of her liege lord, came to the rescue with a stout
hickory broomstick, and belabored the struggling combatants
so vigorously, that, although in the blindness of her Zt‘:tl~—m‘
it may be malice prepeuse—she bestowed as many blows on

‘one as upon the other, Hostnar reIaXed his hold and re-

treated to the side of his wagon, while the rescued husband,

as soon as he could collect himself, disappeared within the

cabin followed by his valiant helpmeet.
, In a. moment, however, Larkins
hand. I

“Now, stranger,” he exclaimed, “ I'll give you jist. five

\

reappeared, rifle in

r

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I

  

v

18 THE PRAIRIE nnmn.

'minutes to git into yer wagon an’ start, an’ the quicker you
git out of my sight, the better it’ll be far you 1"

“ Rachel, hand me my gun I” said Ilosmar, quietly, without
altering his position.

“ Oh, Andrew, do git into the wagon an’ drive on ! \Vlmt's
the use of stayin’ here to be murdered!” entreated Mrs. Hos-
mar.

“ Yes, uncle Hosmar, do. I am sure that the law will re-
store your claim to you !” said a. pleasant voice, and a young
girl leaned forward, and placed her hand coaxineg on Mr.
I-Iosmar's shoulder.

“ The law! Yes, I’ve tried law before now, and ‘ a. burnt
child dreads the fire.’ I tell you I’ll never give up my rights
to that sneak there as long as there’s life in me."

. “ Oh, dear! I wish we’d ’a’ stayed whal‘ we was; I jest
expect we’ll 811—”

“ Hand me the gun l” interrupted Ilosmar, sternly, and with
trembling hands his wife obeyed.

“Bill Larkins, don’t stand there like a fool to be shot at;
come in and shot. the door I“ called a sharp voice from within
the house.

The man. evidently accustomed to obey, for he made an in-
voluntary step backward, then hesitated, and tinally, with a
suddenness that prevented a steady aim, he raised his rifle and
fired.

As soon as he had done so, he sorting backward into the
house and closed the door. None too quickly, however, for a
bullet from IIosmar’s rifle whizzed through the space which
his head had occupied but an instant before, and lodged in
one of the logs of the cabin.

The shot, however, which Larkins had tired, proved more
disastrous than that of his adversary’s. IIosmar‘s horses,
alarmed at the senflling and confusion around them, became
eXet-edingly restive, and the shot, tired almost at random, ac-
tually piert'ed an ear of one of them. This so frightened
both animals that they could no longer be controlled, and be-

fore Mr. I-Iosmar could reach their heads or get possession of ,

the reins, they had started off upon the full run.
“ Hang to the lines I" shouted Hosmar, as the wagon got
ahead. of him.

   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
 

. zua H“ __ _

 
   
     

    

. .1..AMVA..~.

  

 

um RUNAWAY TEAM. 18

“01), Lord! We‘ll all be killed 1” shriede back Mrs. Hos-
mar; and the children, more alarmed by their mother's unv ,
restrained terror, than by their actual danger, set up a chorus
of screams and yells that were (liseordantly accompanied by
the jingle and clutter of the various domestic utensils stowed
in the wagon.

On they went for nearly a mile, when there appeared close
before them a stretch of silent, glistening water. It seemed
to rise mysteriously among the tall prairie-grass, and to the
excited hnagimuions of the terror-stricken party, it appeared
to be a vast lake lying; in the bosom of the prairie. .

Mrs. IIosmar could no longer hold the lines in lier nervous
hands, and the young girl, who was s *ated further back in the

argon, sprung forward, and grasping the reins, tried to turn
the horses’ heads in another direction, but they were utterly
unmanagme and kept straight on.

Presently the horses‘ feet splashed in the water, and the two
women itwolunturily closed their eyes in expectation of the
dreaded plunge; but it ditl not. come, and, recovering their
senses somewhat. they saw that the water was not quite up
to the wagon-baa, atrnoug'u they had advanced several rode
into it.

But, just as their courage began to revive, the wagon sud-
denly sunk, the bed filled,and the occupants found themselves
waist-deep in water, while the horses floundered and plunged,
and finally settled down, with not much more than their noses
above the surface.

The fancied “lake” was the overflowing of a slough
(“sloo ") or bayou, many of which are to be found in that
part of Iowa, and when the horses with the heavily-loaded
wagon came to the bed of the slough, they sunk into the

mud of the bottom, and could not extricate themselves. Art'-
ter a filw moments of fear and trembling, the party in the
wagon began to recover their scattered senses. The children
were fished up from the water and placed upon articles of
furniture, and then the two women began to look around them
with considerable anxiety.

“ Aunt Rachel! I see two men on horseback, over there to
the right. I wonder how we can make them see us?" sail
the young girl already introduced.

1

  

 

  

'rme: PRAIRIE mums.

“Hollarl Boys, you hollar; I hain't a speck of strength
left," cried Mrs. llosmar, eagerly.

The boys “hollared ” accordingly, their voices tremulous
from excitement and far. Evidently they ware hard, for,
in a few moments, the imperiled occupants of the wagon had
the satisfaction of Seeing the horsemen stop and gaze around
them; then the men had turned their horses’ heads, and rode
at full gallop toward the wagon.

On they came, splashing their way through the overflow, un- I

tiI they neared the edge of the slough,when matters were ex-
plained, and, with h salty good-will, the relieving hand was
extended. Squire Bokcr and his young friend Clark, by dint
of much riding to and fro in the water, succeeded in placing
all the occupants of the wagon upon dry land, when “the
squire” at once rode oti‘ to find Mr. Ilosmar. while the young
Mr. Clark, aided by “Jake,” the elder ot' the boys, succeeded
in cutting the horses loose from the wagon, and getting them
also safely “ ashore.”

The condition of the party was forlorn enough. Their
clothing was thoroughly wet—it was already past the middle
of the afternoon, and the wind which had been blowing
steadily all (lay, now came sweeping across its unobstructed
way in a perfect gale. The wide prairie, with its tall grass
,rising and fallin in the wind like billows of the sea, was all
around them ; not a single habitation was to be seen; there
was nothing with which to make a fire; not a tree, bush or
rock to afford them shelter from the penetrating blast.

Ere long the squire returned, piloting Mr. IIosmar to the
scene of trouble. It was evident that IIosmar had informed
his companion of the cause of the runaway, and the state of
his affairs; for the squire exclaimed, as he approached the
waiting group:

“You mustn’t stand here in the cold! My shanty’s jist
three mile further on, an’ I reckon by pilin' on party well,
’ you kin all ride, an” we’ll be thar in less’n no time. You,
Clark, ride on ahead, an’ tell the old woman that we ar’
weemin’, an’ it’ll be all right when we git thar.’I
' Squire Boker‘s shanty was a long, low house, built of hewn
black-walnut logs, and consisted of two large, square roomsI

with an undivided “ loft ” overhead, and a. “ shed-kitchen" in

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A GENIAL COUPLE. 16

the rear. At one end of the principal room was a large fire-

place, in which roared an excellent fire, as the travelers en-

tered. v
Mrs. Boker,a pleasant-faced woman of about fifty years,

and weighing somewhere over two hundred pounds, advanced

to welcome them with cordial hospitality. Almost her first

remark was addressed to her husband :

“Squire, you keep that fire a-roarln’ while I take these,
women into t'other room and get them some dry things to
put on I"

“ I’ll ’tcnd to the fire, Jane, but I hope you ain’t agoin’ to
squeeze them into some of your clothes!” and the squire
winked with humorous malice.

All laughed, Mrs. Boker among the rest. It removed all
embarrassment. The very house seemed impermeated with
the squire’s geniality and good-humor.

From her abundant stores, Mrs. Boker quickly supplied her
female visitors with the needed Change of clothes, when she
returned to the kitchen to prepare the tea.

“What a dear old soul she is,” said Annie, after their host-
ess had left them, “ and these clothes are as white as snow]
Do you know, aunt Rachel, I begin to enjoy my adventures
amazingly l"

“Oh, dear me, Miss Annie! if you was to ketch yonrdealh,
or any thing was to happen to ye, what would become of
us ‘3”

“Nothing will happen; don’t be discouraged, ‘ auntie ’—aud
don’t say ‘ Miss Annie’ again, for pity's sake I"

“ VVal,I’ll try not to. I must say it’s wonderful how you‘ve
stood the journey—ridin’ in a big wagon an’ campin’ out 0'
nights, an’—”

“ Oh, I‘ve enjoyed it! The weather has been delightful!
I love autumn better than any other season. I’m a real au-
tumn rose—that‘s what poor mannna used to call me, you
know.”

“Yes, you was born in October; I remember the day jest
as well as if it was only yesterday! It was so sunny, and
bright—I remember yer ma said ’twas a good sign. I was a
young gal then, a-livin’ with yer ma. Law me! it don’t seem
no time at all when I look back at them times t” ’

  

 

.34}

16 THE PRAIRIE mums.

“It seems along time to me, auntie. I’m in a dreadful
hurry to have eighteen hundred and fifty-three come 1"

“Of course you are, and it's no wonder; but it’ll come
round ’fore you know it, ’most. But, I hear Mrs. Better a-stir-
rin’ around a-gittin’ slipper ready. I reckon I’d better go out
and help her a spell. You set here by the stove and rest ye
till supper’s ready.”

The young girl was left alone, and as she sat there, in the plain
and ill-fitting garments which she had put on, half musing,
half listening to the excited conversation in the adjoining
room, she would have provoked the curiosity of any close ob-
server who might have chanced to see her.

Her features were delicate, but strongly marked, and her air
refined. The brown, waving hair was glossy and silken, the
small hand was white and smooth, but the garments she had

' laid aside were )lain and chea) in material and “countr -
l

fiec " in make; there seemed to be an incongruity between
the wearer and the worn.

In the course of an hour Mrs. Boker announced supper.
In the middle of the “ big room ” stood a long and ample
table, well filled and neatly spread, and, as the party gathered
around it, Mrs. Boker exclaimed :

“ Now jest sit up and help yerselves; don’t be backward ;
we hain’t got. any thing very extra, but I've done the best I
could on sech short notice. Travelers giner’ly have purty
good appetites, and kin eat a’most any thing, when hard
pushed."

If her closing remark was intended as an apology, it was
not needed, for the fragrant. coffee, prairie-chicken stew, fresh
fish, warm biscuits, wild honey, sweet butter, rich or -am, and
other edibles upon the table, might have tempted almost any
appetite, \

“ Soyou’ve got another wagon a-comin’, hev ye?" said the
squire, resuming the conversatitm, after they had all got seated
around the table.

“Yes, my oldest boy, Sam, and a colored man that I’ve
had livin’ with me fly a y air or two, they are comin’ with the
other wagon. They stopped to get sotne repairin’ done, and
tolwb'uy up some corn, and flour, and bacon. We come on

, and‘ expected to be puny well settled by the time they got

/

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

  

some FOR Hm. . 17

along, but that infernal rascal has played smart with my cal-
culations, and upset my arrangements completely.”

“ Wail, we’ll upset him in the morning; don’t grit yer teeth
over him any more. We will have him out and you in, be-
fore this time to-morrow.”

CHAPTER II.
A “ CLAIM FIGHT."

’TWAs the morning of a beautiful day in October; the air
was soft and filled with a thin haze, through which the beams
of the sun fell in mild and plensing light upon the prairie.
A group of men were gathered around the door of Squire
Boker’s little log-stable, talking in earnest and excited
tones.

“ Itcan tell you what it is," said one, “ I’m for giving him
his full dues. This isn’t the first claim he lms'jumped; he
served me a little trick once that I haven’t forgot yit, and if
he don’t git his deserts this time, ’twon‘t be my fault l”

“Don’t be so savage, Wilson. I think that if we take him
over to the Big Muddy and give him at good ducking, and
some sound advice, it will answer the purpose."

“You’re mistaken in your man then, for he‘s as stubborn as ,
a mule, and—"

“ I say, string him up, if he won’t agree to quit i" exclaimed
another.

“I reckon we kin skeer him out. He’s never paid a cent
on the land. Thnt stuff about the papers was all a lie; I
know him, and he hain’t been there more‘n a month. He,
calculated to sell out and try his luck somewhat" else before
spring," said another one of the party. ' -

“ thi, boys, come on i” said Squire Boker, emerging from
the stuble, and leading out his horse all ready for mount-
ug-

“We‘re ready; got your rifle, squire? Let’s see; here’s

\

 

 

  

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

" six of us. All right, go ahead 1" and the whole party started
ofl‘ upon a gallop across the prairie.

Mrs. Hosmar and Annie had seen the men collect, and stood
at one of the front windows to watch them as they started

ofi‘. They knew. of course, what the object of the expedition ,

was, and Mrs. Hosmar groaned, and “ Oh dearec ," and “ wished
they had stayed in Kaintucky,” over and over again. Annie
tried to administer consolation, but without much effect.

“ You know, auntie, that it is quite right that uncle should
try to get possession of his place. I presume that when Mr.
Larkins sees that uncle is not to be trifled with, he will
agree to give up, and leave the place quietly; don‘t you think
so, Mrs. Baker ?"

“ Wal, to tell the truth, I’m powerful uneasy myself.
There’s been a heap of trouble ’mongst the settlers with these
claim-jumpers, and I shouldn’t wonder if there’d be a fight.
I couldn’t git the squire to say what they intended to do, but
I wouldn’t he anyways surprised ef they'd lynch this t'eller if
they kingit hold of him, and he‘ll know when he sees ’em
comin’ what the matter is, and so-—”

“ You do not mean ‘to say that they will murder the man,
do you 1’”, exclaimed Annie, in tones of horror.

“Wal, ef he'll give up and clear out, I reckon they’ll let
him do it; but, ef he’s stubborn, there’s no knowin‘ what
’will happen. Men are dretful critters when their temper‘s
up!”

I “There‘ll be somebody killed, I know, and of course it’ll
be IIosmar; he’s allers foremost in every thing 1" groaned the
‘ unhappy wife.

"Wul, here comes Mr. Clark,” said Mrs. Bolter, “ and I
reckon he knows what they intend to do. I‘ll ask him, any
way. Mr. Clark, we want you to tell us what these men are
going to do.”

“ They are going to see what can be done with Larkins, re-
garding Mr. Hosmar’s claim,” replied Clark.

“ Do you think there’ll be a tight?” persisted Mrs. Boker.

’ “ I can not tell, of course. The man, they say, is a hard

case, and his Wife is as bad as he is; but they may think

‘discretio'n the better part of valor,’ in this case, and give up
the place quietly.” ' '

 

  

 

 

 

'-

3’

mas. BOKER'S rmno " 10

“I thought you was a-goin’, too, but I’m glad you didn‘t,”
responded Mrs. Baker. .

“ My arm has pained me badly since yesterday, or I should
have gone,” replied Clark, smiling.

“ What’s the matter with yer arm—rhumatiz ?” inquired
Mrs. Hosmar, her mind for the moment diverted from her own ‘
troubles.

“No, madam; an old hurt that troubles me sometimes,"
was the smiling answer. ,

“ Why, you see,” interposed Mrs. Boker, looking at the young
man with a smile of affectionate pride, “he‘s been to Cali-
forny, was there Inore’n two year, and of all the times! and
as he was a-comin’ back across the plains with a lot of other
men, they got into a fight with some Injins, and he got
wounded in the arm; ’tain’t much more’n a. week sence he
took it out of the sling. The whole lot—thar was twenty of
’em—come along here on their way home. and camped out,
right in sight of the house. You see they was all of ’em
party well used up, and the dirtiest, shaggiest lookin‘ set!
and they wanted to clean up and make theirselves look more
like humans afore they got amongst folks ag’in, so they stopped
here a. couple of weeks a-recruitin’ theirselves. Of course the
squire scraped acquaintance with ’em, the first thing, and used
ter listen by the hour to their stories ’bout Californy. About
the time they got ready to leave, Mr. Clark here was took
down with a fever, and the squire persuaded him to stop with
us till he got well; so that’s the way he come to be here, and \
I dun know as the squire-’11 be willin’ to hev him go away at
all, he’s taken sech a notion to him,” and, as the good woman
concluded, her ample bosom heaved with a sigh that seemed
to indicate that she, too, would be loth to have him go.

“ I shall always remember my stay here, with pleasure and
gratitude, Mrs. Boker, and, to tell the truth, I do not feel in
the least hurry to get away; you may be troubled with me
all winter. I have not certainly decided yet,” said Clark,
smiling.

“ You don’t say so i We], I’m glad you’ve took a notion
to stay. It’s party lonesome here in the winter an’ you’ll be
a heap of company fur both of us!" and the broad counter»
nnce of the speaker visibly biiglitened. ,

  

'30 i run mm 31mm.
n‘-‘ )_-'. W

Meanwhile the party of men who had espoused Mr.

Hosmar’s cause, had nearly reuehed their destination. When
they came to the little stream which ran along about twenty
rods in front of the house, they dismounted and fastened
their horses to the bushes and young cottonwood trees,
which grew along its banks; they then proceeded toward the
tnhin. The door was closed, and the dingy calico curtain
was drawn over the little window as if the family was absent.
Near by stood a young man, dressed in a rude but rather
pretentious hunting costume, and surrounded by three or four
large savage-looking dogs. The squire inl‘ormed Hosmar
that the young hunter was a cousin of Mrs. Larltins, and
that, in all probability, his being there at that time was not
accidental.

The young man was leaning carelessly upon his rifle, and
seemed altogether indifferent. to the approach of the men.
Not so the dogs, however, for they joined in a chorus 01" low
but fierce growls, and seemed only waiting the word of
permission or command to attack the advancing party.

“ Good-morning, Sharp 1" said Squire Bolter; “I see you’ve
got yer family round ye as usual. Is Mr. Larkins at home .9”

“ There don‘t seem to be anybody ’round,” replied Sharp,
glancing toward the house.

“Wnl, then, we’ll just go in and take possession l” said
Hosmar.

“ You can try it !" said Sharp, coolly.

“ I intend to; come on, boys I"

The men advanced to the door, and Hosmar laid his hand
upon the latch ; he found that it resisted all efforts to move
, it, and that the door was securely fastened upon the in.
side.

“ We must have something to force it open with l" be ex-
claimed, and two of the men brought from the wood—pile a
log of green wood, and with it prepared to burst down the
’ door, or force it from its fustenings.

“ Watch fur game when the door gives way l" cried the
squire.

“ We‘ll grab him I Give it {I dig

Four of the men lifted the log, and rushed at the door
with 9. force that nearly sent. it from its hinges.

")

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e...)

 

“Hurrah! Another such a lick as that will bring it down i"
and the men raised the log for another blow. At this mo~
ment’ the little window near the door was lifted from its
place, and Larkins and his wife, each armed with a rifle,
showed themselves at the opening. Sharp spoke to his dogs,
and they, with exultant yelps, sprung upon the assailants.
The dogs were large and powerful animals, and the men were
obliged to drop the log, in order to defend themselves.

bnatcliing their rifles from the place where they had laid
them, they tried to beat the creatures off, but it only served to
increase their fury. '

One of the men standing furthest from the house watched
for a favorable chance, and taking a careful aim, tired. One
of the dogs rolled over, uttering unearthly howls of agony.
Sharp, who had remained standing in apparent unconcern,
now seemed to lose all self-control, and rushing upon the man
who had fired, struck a blow with the butt of his rifle, which
laid the settler senseless 0n the ground; then, with his gun
still clubbed, he sprung into the melée and showered blows
on every side.

“ Grab the rascal t" shouted Squire Boker, who had received
a stinging blow on the side of his face.

Two of the men making a determined rush at their assail-
ant succeeded in throwing him to the ground, and‘wresting
his weapon from his hands; but the dogs, upon seeing their
master in need of help, sprung to his defense, with a. fury
that could not be withstood, and the captors were obliged to
release their hold.

“ Curse the dogs l" exclaimed Hosmar, as with the strength
of a giant he hurled the log of wood and laid one of the
brutes prostrate and disabled upon the ground.

“Good for you, Hosmarl let's make an end of the other,
and then for the folks!" cried one of the men.

At this moment, Larkins, who had been watching for an
opportunity, tired, and HOStltttt"B right arm dropped suddenly
to his side.

“By the Great J ehosaphat, we’re a-foolin’ ’l'ound here too
long! Some of you fellers watch that window while we
Dang in the door i” cried the man at Hosmar’s side.

At this, Larkins snatched the gun which his wife wag

 

  

    

  

holding, and fired almost instantly. Just as he did so, young

Sharp stepped between him and his aim, and the ball in-
tended for Hosmar entered the back of the young rufiian‘s
head, and he dropped to the earth with a low groan which
.was his last complaint.

“ Oh Lord! what have you done ?” screamed Mrs. Lill‘lxlllS.
Her husband seemed to be utterly confounded, and unable to
speak or move. The men near the door dropped their
weapons and ran to the spot where Sharp lay, and while the
thoughts of all were centered on the dead, Mrs. Larkins
whispered to her husband :

_ “You’re done for now! and the sooner you clear out the
better. His folks will foller you to the ends of the earth ef
they kin find you out. You allers was an everlastin’ fool!
Why don’t you start? I’ll foller when I kin. Climb up inter
the loft, and git out of the little back winder on to the shed-
roof. Here, take your bridle. You kin ketch your horse;
I reckon he’s a—grazin’ on t’otlier side of the bluff. Why
ain’t you a-movin’? Them men kin hey that door down in
less’n two minutes of they're a mind to i"

Larkins, by this time recovering his senses, proceeded to
follow his wife's directions, while she, as noiselessly as pos-
sible, replaced the window at which they had been standing
and drew the calico-curtain over it. She then ascended the
ladder which led up into the loft, and watched until she saw
her husband disappear over the bluff which rose but a few
rods back of the barn. Descending to the room below, after
some little delay, she opened the door, and went out to where
young Sharp lay.

“ Is he clear dead ?" she asked in a low tone.

“ Of course he is,” answered I-Iostnar; “ a man don’t live
Very long with a bullet in his brain.”

“ Bring him in and lay him on the bed,” said she, “ and
some one orto go after his folks."

“Where is his murderer? Where’s Lurking '3” now ex-
claimed two or three together.

“ On the road to the hot. place reserved for the devil and his
lmps," answered one of the men.

“ We‘d help him to his journey’s end mighty sudden if we

. had him here I" exclaimed Wilson. ' ' ‘

 

\
C

 

LARKINS ensmn. 28

 

“He’ll find his way without help," answered Squire Boker,
“ and of he‘s cleared out, so much the better for this neighbor-
hood; don’t try to stop him."

A groan from Ilosmar, as some one jostled against him, res
minded his friends of the mishap which had befallen him.

“Put your arm in a sling, Hosmar,” said the squire, “and
go home. There’s a. doctor at the crossroads—”

“ l shan’tleave here until the business we come on is set-
tled. I want to know when I ken have possession of these
premises."

“ If it wasn’t for this poor fellow,” said the squire, glancing
at the body of young Sharp, “ we’d help Mrs. Larkins move out
this morning; that’s what we come for. Thar’s nothing like
bein’ neighborly and givin’ yer friends a lift when they need
it. As things hev happened, I reckon we’ll hev to wait 9.
spell—mebe she’ll set. a day, herself?” and the speaker turned
toward Mrs. Larkins as if expecting a reply.

“ Ishan’t stay here another night 1" she exclaimed. “ Ifsome
of you will go after his folks, I’ll be gittin’ things ready so
that I kin leave when they do. Tell them to bring a wagon.
But why don’t some of you carry him in? Oh, Lord, what
will his mother say ?”

The body was lifted from the ground, and taken into the
house. They laid it gently anti tenderly upon the bed-—
straightened the helpless limbs, closed the sightless eyes, and
then, after deciding that \Vilson should he the bearer of the
news to Sharp‘s family, prepared to leave. Mrs. Larkins
watched them with a sort of sullen anxiety as they passed
out of the room one by one; it was apparent that she dreaded
to remain alone with the dead, but her stubborn pride would
not: permit her to ask any one of them to stay with her.
When all were gone she followed them to the door, and
watched as they mounted their horses and rode away; then,
with a long—drawn sigh, she threw an old shawl over her head,
went out of the door, closed it softly and carefully after her,
and then, with quick steps, mounted to the summit oftha
hiufi‘ to watch for the arrival of her expected relatives.

 

!

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

CHAPTER III.
THE BURNT CABIN.

IT was eveninn‘. A full moon shed its brilliant light upon
the boundless prairie. The wind rustied in the tall, dry grass,
and ever and anon the shrill bark of the prairie-wolf could
be heard, one voice answering another from point to point, on
every side. A bright light shone through the uncurtained
windows at Squire Bolter‘s. A large, white-covered wagon
stood before the door, and the “big room” within presented
a cheerful and comfort-suggesting picture.

The large dining-table stood in the middle of the floor just
in front of the fire. Near it, in various attitudes, and en-
gaged with different occupations, were the squire, Mr. Clark,
the boys, Mrs. Bolier and Annie. One of the group was the
boy Sam, who, piloted by Jake, had arrived safely and with-
out mishap,just before dark. Poke, the colored man, and
Jake, had gone to the stable to attend to the horses, and see
that they were all right for the night.

All had disposed themselves for an evening’s enjoyment.

'  What with joke, song and story it bid fair to be a pleasant

evening indeed, when suddenly the door was flung open, and
Poke, the negro, burst in, amazement and fear written in every
- line of his black face.
7‘ Oh, do good Lord, de worl’ is afire i" was his loud excla-
mation.
All sprung to their feet and rushed from the house.
“ ’Tis the prairie afire i" exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Buker to-

gethcr.
“ 0b, mercy! is it a-comin‘ here ?" cried Mrs. Ilosmar, in
great alarm. *

“ The fire can't cross the slough, an’ 'twouldn’t hurt us any
if it did, for there’s nothin‘ close here to feed it,” replied Mm.
Boker.
The fire was in the east, and it rapidly lengthened its line
'fmn1_nm'tlito south, and came rushing on~Hwarriod by the
, ,...

\ a .

 
   
 
   

‘w_.

 

  

‘M.4

 

  

LARKINS’ REVENGE. 25
Wind which was blowing into the west—rising and falling,
making great leaps, and shooting up in columns of brilliant
flame where but a moment before all was darkness.

The whole party stood watching the sublime sight for some
time in silence. Then Mr. Clark remarked:

“It seems to me that there is a steady light back there
that does not come from the burning of the prairie. It
appears to be beyond the present line of fire. Don’t you notice
it, squire ?"

“ I b’lieve there is, Clark. Yes; I’ll bet my three yoke of
oxen that that infernal Larkins has set fire to the cabin and
started it in the grass 1"

“We was fools fur lettin’ him slip away this morning !” said
Hosmar, bitterly.

“ He’d 'a’ been enjoyin’ a fire in another place, if we’d ’a’
served him as we ort to ‘a’ done, and as he deserved i” an-
swered Boker.

“ Wal, he’s played the trump card ag’in’ me I” groaned Hos
mar, as he turned to go into the house.

“ Don‘t be altogether discouraged, friend l” said the squire,
kindly, following IIosmar, and sitting down by the side of the
lounge whereon he had laid himself; “if yer cabin is burnt
up, there’s plenty more timber a-growin‘ down on Mill Creek
oottom; you‘ve got teams and so hev I. ’Twon’t take long
to build another." .

Up to the slough came the broad belt of fire, but no further,
and ere bedtime came it had spent its fury and died away in
smoke. Only where stood IIosmar’s cabin the bright gleam of
flame showed that there more fuel than grass had been given
up to the destroying element.

The next morning, immediately after an early breakfast, the
two oldest boys mounted their horses, and started ofi' to in-
vestigate the matter of the fire. They found the grass burned
down to the very edge of the slough, and riding rapidly on-
ward, over the blackened sod, they soon came to the smolder-
ing remains of their father’s cabin. They returned to Squire
Boker’s with the information, without loss of time; and then,
with Poke to help them, and the squire to show them how to
manage, they proceeded to the slough to bring out the
foundered wagon.

   

  

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

As soon as it was certain that the cabin was really de~
stroyed, Mrs. Hotter and Mrs. Hosmar went to work to carry
out the arrangements that had been agreed upon the previous
evening. By noon, the room which was to be given up to
the Hosmars was emptied and made ready to receive their
furniture, and when the other wagon arrived, Mrs. I-Iosmar,
with the advice and assistance of Annie—who seemed to
enter into the spirit of the occasion with great enjoyment—-
soon had their room arranged so as to look quite pleasant and
homelike.

CHAPTER IV.
ANNIE.

STEPHEN HOWARD was one of the best physicians in the
quiet little city of L ,in Kentucky. So agreeable were
his manners, s'o sympathetic and really kind his nature, and
so unquestionable his abilities, that very soon after entering
upon the practice of his profession, he found himself a fully
occupied and much-sought-after physician. When it is added
hat in his early bacheiorhood he inherited a large estate from
his father, it will perhaps be thought incredible that he should

escape all the “ arts and wiles ” of fortune and husband-hunt-
' ing maneuverers, and finally marry a lovely and loving little
woman, with whom he lived most happily to the end of his
days. '

This was the truth,however; but alas! his days were not
many. At the early age of thirty-five he was carried to the
grave, and his wife and little (laughter were left to mourn one
of the best of husbands and fathers.

According to the provisions of the will which Dr. Howard
left, Mrs. Howard was to have control, under certain restric-
tions, of the entire property, until Annie, the only child, should
arrive at the age of twenty—then one specified half was to
be they daughter’s; and in case the daughter survived the m0-
ther, she was to inherit the whole of it.

 

    

 

    

  

 

i
t

  
  

A STEPFATIIER. 27

The particulars of the will were not generally known, and,
the still young and attractive widow received many offers of
companionship along life's thorny path, from those who,
doubtlesx, were disinterestedly anxious to relieve her of the
care and loneliness of her position. Mrs. Howard, however,
had loved her husband too well to speedily forget or replace
him.

But at length, after seven years of widowhood, she was
persuaded to marry again—and, as is so often the case, it was
impossible to tell what the special inducement 'as, for the
favored man was in many respects inferior to some of those
whom she had rejected—at least, they thought so.

Annie was twelve years old when her mother became Mrs.
Norris. She was a gay little sprite, full of harmless mischief,
and the life of the house. Her stepfather would gladly have
been friends with her, for he was fond of children, but she——
although she called him “papa,” and treated him respect-
fully and kindly—would never allow him to treat her with
familiar fondness, but always “stood upon her dignity ” with
him, in a, manner that savored somewhat of willl'nlness. In
truth, she looked upon him as an intruder, who had come be-
tween herself and her “ dear mamma,” to make them less in-
dispensable to each other.

But the shadow was not deep enough to cause much un-
happiness in a sphere so bright as hers, and four more years
fled swiftly by. Then the angel of death once more entered
that pleasant home, to summon from earth that gentle wife
and mother.

After his wife’s decease, Mr. Norris, with the consent of
Annie, and such of her friends as he thought best to advise
with, sent for a widowed daughter of his, who, with an only
child, a little boy of four or five years, was living in her father's
old home.

It was of Course necessary that, if the wonted establish-
ment was kept tip—and such had been the expressed desire
of Mrs. Norris—there should he a matron at the head of the 4
family. Annie \‘zts willing to consent to almost any arrange-
ment by which she could remain in the dear old home, and
at the same time be exempt from all responsibility and care
concerning the houSehold. So Mrs. Plyne was sent for, and

   

  

 
  

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

, _ in due time arrived, being only too glad to be installed mic
tress of so beautiful and luxurious a home. Indeed, one could
but think, upon making Mrs. Plyne’s acquaintance, that she
would have been contented in almost any sphere, her face
and figure were so plump, her chin so near double, and her
smile so ready and good-natured ; she certainly enjoyed a chat
with the cook in the kitchen, or a confidential communication
from Petty, the chambermaid, to a degree that might have
.brought her authority into disrepute among the servants had
she not shown occasionally that she could assert and main-
tain it, as well as anybody.

She took the most assiduous pains to win the affection and
confidence of Annie, partly because she really liked and ad-
mired her, and partly, it must he confessed, from motives of
policy.

As time wore on, and Miss Annie Howard took her place
in society, and became the recipient of the many flattering at-
tentions which rich young ladies are so certain to receive, a
change came over the home atmosphere.

Mr. Norris, who always had been kind and indulgent to
Annie, now grew intolerant of the company of the young
people who were accustomed to frequent the house.

, Annie’s nature was too independent and self-reliant to bear

I such restraint and interference very long, without resistance,

and at length there were but few days passed without a

 . sharp encounter of words or a clashing of wills between
" them.

Mrs. Plyne succeeded in occupying neutral ground toler-
ably well, and bore with remarkable equanimity any attack
from either party.

One day, after a most aggravating case of interference, in
which Mr. Norris rejected an invitation, ahnost insultingly,
which Annie herself was desirous to accept, she gave expres-
sion to her indignation in terms of unmeasured resentment,
and ended by declaring that she should no longer remain in a
house where she was subjected to such mortifications and an-
nOyances.

. v “ Annie l Annie! did not your mother request—”

“‘She'did not intend to install you as my jailer, nor suppose
that you would make yourself a source of constant unhappines

. \.

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

A FAMILY JAR. $9

to me. I am no longer a child, and I will not submit
any further to be treated as I have been i"

“ Annie ! you are using strong language ! Do you not know
that a. young girl, situated as you are—the inheritor of a large
fortune—will be followed and flattered, and sought after, by
persons whose only motives are mercenary? Your path is
full of perils, and it. is my d11tg/—"

“ It is not your duty to interfere with my actions in the
manner you have done, and it is not my duty to submit to it.”

“ Annie, dear, come with me to my room; do, please. I
want to talk with you,” aml Mrs. Plyne laid her arm affection-
ately and coaxineg around Annie’s waist. She complied with-
out a word, and after they had entered the chamber, Mrs.
Plyne drew her to a low seat near an open window, and be-
gan :

“ You think, Annie, that father is very unkind, but Iknow
that he does not mean to be. I can explain his conduct,
though I fear that I am doing a silly thing; still, afl‘airs have
come to such a pass, that something must he done. The truth
is, that father has a pet plan, and he has cherished it and
thought upon it, until it has become a monomania with him,
and has influenced his conduct much more than he himself
is aware of. You have heard us both speak frequently of
brother Charlie; he is father’s only son, and the best brother
in the world; he made his home with me for years. Well,
it seems that papa has hoped that some day you and‘Charlie
would meet, love, and marry, and of late he has realized how

many chances there are that you may find some one else to '

love before you have seen Charlie at all.

“ He has written to brother, over and over again, within
the last year or two, urging him to come and make us a. visit,
but Charlie is perverse, and insinnales, pretty broadly, some-
times, that he thinks hotlt father and I are occupying posi-
tions the i'e\'('l'SC of independent and dignified, but I believe
father really expects to have him here some time this coming
winter. So, if he comes, and you do not fall in love with
each other, the matter will be Settled, at least. I knew he will
love you, for how could it be otherwise? And, as for Charlie’s
merits, he is good and handsome, and has already acquired
considerable distinction as a lawyer, and—" '

 

    

THE I’RAIRIE ninnE.

“And so this delightful scheme is the cause of the perse-
cutions and indignities I have had to endure. I now see
through the whole afi‘air. Mrs. Plyne- ”

“ Dear Annie, do not be so indignant. Yoti—-"

Just then some one knocked upon the door, and Mrs. Plyne
crossed the room to open it. ’Twas the cook, and she put
her Woolly head 'into the room and inquired for“ Miss Annie.”

Annie rose, her face flushed with excitement, and her eyes
Full of fire, and went out into the hull.

“ \Vhat is it, Minty ?" she asked.

“ W’y, Miss Annie, Poke, he’s come, an‘ he wants ter see
you mos’ uncommon partie’lar ’bout‘. som’thin’-—so I tole him
I’d run up to yer room—-—”

Without waiting to hear more, Annie descended to the din~
ing-room, and found Poke already there awaiting her.

She had not seen him before for nearly a year, as he had
been living at a place in the country, about twenty miles from
town, nearly ever since her mother’s death.

“ Why, Poke, is this you ?” she exclaimed, advancing to-
ward him with a smile—“ I am glad to see you; how do you
do ?”

“ Oh, I’s berry well, Miss Annie! I’s powerful glad to see
you a-lookin so bright. Why, yer cheeks is as red as roses 1"
answered the man, with a delighted grin.

“ They feel red just now, Poke ; but, tell me how you are
getting along at Mr. IIosmar’s—lunv is auntie ‘3”

“ She’s berry well, an’ sent lots ob love ter you, an’ said
she’d like mos' powerful well ter see you ’fore she goes ter the
new country.”

“ And so they are really going, are they ?"

“ Oh yes, missus; an’ it‘s ’hout (lat berry t’ing I wanted to
ax yer advice. Marsa Hosmar’s a-goin’ to start ’lmut next
week, an’ he says I’d better go ’long. He will let me drive
one ob de wagons, an’ help him ’round a spell when we gits
darn-he says land is so cheap (lat I kin git a farm oh my own.
an’ be as independent as white folks; an‘, oh missus! if I
thort dat was so, an’ I could send for Melissy after a w’ile, I'd
go, sure an’ sartin, ef I had to walk ebery step ob de road l”
'1 “ Mr. Hosmar has been out there to look for land, has he

" 10:?” ‘ .

    

 

POK n. 81

“ Yes, missus, he hab—an’ he says 'tis de mos’ beautifuiest
place in de worl‘.”

“ And you have determined to go with him, have you,
Poke ?”

“ W’y, I thort I’d come un’ see you ’bout it, nn’ ax yer ud‘
vice on de suhjec’, un’ it'—"‘

“So yru come to consult me, after you have fully made
up your mind what to do, do you ‘3" said Annie, laughing. '

“ W’y no, missus," said Poke, a. little cenfusedly. “ I
wouldn’t ’zt’ went, noways, cf you‘s ‘posed to it."

“ But, I am not; I want you to go. Must you return home
to-day ‘3”

“ No, Miss Annie, I‘s a-goin’ to wait till mornin' ; I’s got
some errands to ’teud to." ,

“Well, then, be sure to come and see me again; I've got
something importunt to tall: with you nbout; and, do not;
mention the subject of your going West to Mr. Norris, if you
chance to see him.”

“Berry well, Miss Annie.
breakfus’ in de mornin’.”

“ I will be here or in the garden; don’t forget."

“ ’Deed I won’t, missus—-1ny mem’ry’s perfec’ly reliable in
dis case i” and the faithful freedman went his way, looking
very wise and self-important.

I’ll ’quire for you jest after

 

An idea entered Annie’s brain when Poke spoke of going
West :—she too would go l She was excited and indignant—-
too much so to consider the subject calmly and in all its bear-
ings; she only thought. that she could thus get away from the
hateful interference and scheming of her stepfather during the
year that must still intervene before she would be entire mistress
of herself. As soon as Poke left her, she hurried to her own
room to think over and perfect her plun.

Her resentment toward her stepfather was so strong. that she
was quite willing that he should endure all the perplexity and
disquietude which such a step on her part would cnuse him';
but she did not wish her absence or disappearance to be a sub-
ject Of Wonder or scandal among her acqtmint:tnces,nnd so,
nfler thinking the matter over for several hours, she at length
determined to write LWo or three notes to be sent to some of

 

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

her intimate friends, as soon as she should be safely out of the
way. She wished to word them so vaguely as to give no clue
to her real whereabouts, and ’twas only after half a dozen trials
that she succeeded in inditing one that she thought would an-
swer her purpose. The following is a copy of one of them;
the others differed but little, except in the address:

“DEAR MATTrE—I have—quite unexpectedly—an opportu-
nity of going abroad for a few months—possibly for a year——
with some old friends. Do not be altogether stunned by this
sudden announcement, and above all, dc not quite forget me
during my absence. Please make my adieux to all ‘inquiring
friends,’ and believe me, your affectionate friend,

ANNIE HOWARD."

To her stepfather she wrote :

“ Mn. NORRIS—Some friends of mine—old friends of my mo-
ther’s too—are going abroad; and for reasons which you will
doubtless understand, I have determined, without consulting
you, to accompany them. It will be too late when you receive
this for you to prevent my going. I shall not return, probably,
for a year, when I shall be entirely free to live with whom and
where I choose. A. H.”

“ I ought not to have used the word ‘ abroad,’ I believe ; it
seems to imply that I am going to leave the‘ land of the free
and the home of the brave’; but, what other word can I em-
ploy that will be indefinite enough ‘3”

’ ('I‘hus mused Annie, as she sat at her writing-desk, folding and
directing her notes. While she was still puzzling her head about
‘ the propriety of using the word as she had done, a servant came
up to announce ayoung lady visitor. Annie ran down to the
parlor, and found an old school friend, who lived several miles
in the country, and who was then in town to do some visiting
and shopping. She had come to urge Annie to accompany her
, home and spend a few days at the farm. Mr. Norris did not
think it wise to object, and the invitation was joyfully ac-
cepted.

“ Come up to my room, Susie. and lay off your things. 0f
courseyou will stop with me during the remainder of your stay
in town,” and the two girls ran up-stairs to prepare for tea.

I That evening, after the girls had retired to their room for
the night, Annie told her friend, confidentially, how unpleasant
g Ind unbearable Mr. Nprris’ conduct toward herself had

    

 

    

THE TWO FRIENDS. 38

become, and of the determination she had
West. ‘

Susie Malor, a sensible and kind-hearted girl, feared that
Annie might encounter troubles and privations that she little
expected; or, worse still, cause gossip and ‘wondcrment ’ by
such a step, which would be a source of annoyance and regret
in the future. Hence she tried to dissuade her friend from
the undertaking, but when she found that she could not, she
lent a sympathizing ear to every particular of the proposed.
plan, and promised to aid her as far as she could, in carrying
it into execution.

“You can now understand how much your invitation to
vigit you at this time will help me alone. I can pack my
trunk with the things I wish to take with me, and no one
will suspect that it is to ' a more lengthy journey than to your
house. I will arrange with Poke to come there for me, when
Mr. IIosmar is ready to start; and thus, you see, I shall be
fairly on my way, while my affectionate friends here at home
are imagining me at the farm.”

“ But, Annie, the IIosmars will of course go in big wagons,
loaded down with every manner of stud—such people always
(lo—and I’m af'aid that a young lady of your stylish appear-
ance, traveling in such a ray, and in such company, may at-
tract morc attention than you will like i” -

“I had not thought of that, Sue. I must make a traveling
dress. Let me see: a dark delaine dress, made just as aunt
Rachel makes her dresses, and a large gingham or calico sun-
bonnet; a warm blanket shawl, in red and blue plaids, and
some thick cotton gloves—won’t that be about the thing ?"
said Annie, laughing.

“ I suppose so ; but oh, Annie, how wild your plan
is 1”

“Why, Susie, I shall enjoy it far more than I shcrL'd s trip
to Europe! Just think how free I shall be! and, Susie (Lear,
don’t l;:rrow trouble on my account; I will write to ycu as
often as I can, and keep you informed of all my adventures
and mishaps, if I have any. I will purchase my equipment
to-morrow before we leave town. I shall see Poke in the
morning and take him into my confidence; he can make the
necessary arrangements with M1. IIosmar, I will semi an

formed of going

 

\

84 THE PRAIRIE 31mm.

explanatory message to aunt Rachel, and thus you see every
thing will be nicely settler .”

“ But, Annie, suppose that the Hosmars should object?
They may not be willing to incur the responsibility of run-
mintsr away with an heiress.” '

“i am quite Certain that they will not. You know that
Mrs. Hosmar lived with mamma many years, both before and
titer her marriage. I have called her ‘ auntie ’ ever since I
teamed to talk. She lived with us until I vas nearly four
years old, then she married ; but mamma always took an in-
terest in her, and I have spent many happy summer months
in her care upon the farm, while a child. She loves me dearly
for mamma’s sake, and she does not like Mr. Norris, so I am
certain she will not object to encounter any responsibility that
I may ask of her.”

,“ You must have money, Annie.”

“ Of course, Sue. Fortunately I have four or five hundred
dollars on hand, which will meet my ‘traveling expenses' and
pay my board for a year, will it; not?”

C H A P T E R V.
THE mmmm FIRE.

THE autumn proved a long and pleasant one. Winter de-
layed to make its appearance until near the beginning of Jan-
uary. Mr. Hosuiar, accepting,r of Squire Boker’s advice, had
selected a half-section of land which joined the squire’s pos-
sessions, and the work of building a new house had gone
bravely on.

It was not to he a simple cabin, as the first one had been.
Annie had insisted upon paying Mr. Hosmar for a year's
board in advance, that he might be the better able to build a
more roomy dwelling, for, although he had horses and wagons
and farming utensils, his stock of money was but limited, and
the greater part. of it was intended to buy cattle with, and to
meet the expenses of living until a crop could be raised from

 

 

 

    

   

 

 

     

me NEW common. 30
his new land. Poke being by trade an excellent carpenter,
proved invaluable in this emergency. The new house was of
course built. of logs-4t was a story and a half high, with two
rooms below and two above. The two upper rooms were di-
vided by a little hall, and one of them was to be finished off
in the best manner possible under the circumstances, and be
devoted especially to Annie's occupation.

One day, about the middle of December, Mrs. Hosmar and
Annie concluded to walk over to the new house, and see how
it was Coming on. A well-broken path already had been made
llt‘IWCL‘ll the two places, for there was a continual coming and
going.

As they approached the house, Annie stopped to ad-
mire the scene. The prairie was gently rolling, and the build-
ing stood upon a slight rise of ground ;, behind it, to the east,
rose a ‘ange ot‘ wooded blutl‘s, while in the west was to be
seen the windings of Saw-Mill creek, with noble walnut and
cottotiwood trees bordering its course. The tall grass near the
house had been cut down, and a few furrows plowed around
the cleared space, to prevent all danger from fire, should the
prairie burn over during the fall. The sound of hammers and
saws, busily plied, reached their ears where they stood, and as
they moved on again, Mrs. Hosmar remarked :

’Twon’t be morc’n a week or so, I reckon, before we kin
move. I shall be drctful glad, furl feel as if we was n-erowd—
in’ Squire Boker’s folks out of house and home.” i

“ I shall be glad, too, auntie, and I am (lelightcd that you
are going to have such a pleasant and comfortable home. If,
Mr. Hosmar has no further ill-luck you will be rich and inde-
pendent one of these days.”

“ Mohhe We will, Annie, but I’m al‘eered you’ll be drett‘ul
10110501116 after we get moved over here.” ,

Annie blushed faintly, as she saw Mrs. Hosmar’s pale blue
’3‘)“ fi-‘l‘d With a sort of troubled inquiry upon her face, but re-
plied, langhiugly; ,

“ I certainly did not expect to find much society here on the
prairie, and PCI‘IIHDS a few months of seclusion and reflection
will be good for me.”

“Mr. Clark has been a heap of company fur you; but-a
law me! there he is now.”

 

   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

Mr. Clark appeared in the doorway, and extended his hand
to assist Mrs. Hosmar and Annie to climb up, as no step had
yet been made before the entrance.

“ Mr. IIosmar has just been telling me,” said hegayly, “ that
he intends to have a ‘ house-warming’ on Christmas-eve. 1
am already invited, and have promised to furnish a pair
of wild turkeys and some fresh venison for the occasion.”

“ Do you really s‘pose the house‘ll be done by that time, An-
drew ?" asde Mrs. Hosmar.

“ If the weather stays favorable it will ; and I’ve been think-
ing that, as we ort to hev a spree, it’ll do fura Christmas cele-
bration an’ a house-warinin’ both."

“ Miss Annie, would yer please to come up here? I wants
.0 ’sult you ’bont some of dose fixin’s," called Poke’s voice
from above.

Annie ran up the stairs, and found Poke apparently in a.
very undecided state of mind concerning some shelves he was
putting up in one corner of the room.

“ You see, missus, if dis lower shelf was ’lowed to come out
’bout so, a little furder dan do others, w’y den you could use it
fur a table to write yer letters on, and fur yer sewin’ and
trinkits or sieh likes ter lay on. W’at does yer t’ink ’bout it,
Miss Annie ‘2"

“ It would be very convenient for many uses, Poke. How
nicely you have finished off these black-walnut shelves; they
are quite handsome. And how pleasant this room is; this
south window makes it so cheerful.”

“ I's mighty glad you t’inks so, Miss Annie We ’spetts to
qlt moved over here, party soon, nn’ I's mos’ powerful giad oi
flat, too."

“Why, Poke, you and Squire Boker are good friends, are
you not ‘9”

“ Yes, missus, we are ; and I hopes you'll forgive me if I
takes de liberty to speak on a subjie’ (lat; I knows I‘s no busi-

' ness to ’fringe upon ; but, den, what would Miss Mary say ef

I was to see her chile a-runnin’ into danger, 1111’ never do noth-
in’ to ’vent it.” ,

“ Why, Poke, you are so solemn that you frighten me.
What can be the matter ?” ,
“ New, Miss Annie, you mustn't be ’fended, but ’member

‘ Clark.

  

A wonn or CAUTION. 87

I’ve knowed ye ever sence ye was horned, and yer mam-
ina, too, and she trusted a heap in my judgment ’bout
t’ings."

“ Yes, Poke, I know she did.”

“ \Vell den, Miss Annie, I kin see dat Massa Cark is a-f'allin’
in lab wid you mos’ drctl‘ul bad. ’Course he can’t help (lat,
hut w‘atI wants to do ’bout it is ter put ye on yer guard.
'Tu'ouldn’t do, noways, fer a young lady 01) your standin'
an' ’spectalions to encouredge a nordinary person like Massa
Clark.”

“Poke, I am astonished at you for presuming to speak as
you have done. You have no reason to think that Mr. Clark
cares any more for me than he does for Mrs. Baker or aunt
Rachel, and if he did, I am certainly competent to judge for
myself in such a matter.”

“ Dar, Miss Annie, I knowed you‘d be ’f‘ended; but I’ve
been a-t’inkin’ an7 t’inkin’, as I was a-workin’ here by myself,
dat maybe ’eause dar’s no odder young folks ’round, an’ he’s
so mighty peart to talk and make hisself agreeable, (lat yer
might—jest from bein’ lonesome like."

“ Well, Poke, never speak or think of such a thing again.
Arrange the shelves in the way you mentioned; you can al-
ways contrive to have things just right, so I won’t pretend to
advise you. I must go now." ‘

But the step with which she left the room was not a very
elastic one, and her thoughts, as she went slowly down the
stairs, Were about as follows: “What put such ideas into
Poke’s brain, and what did aunt Rachel mean this afternoon
when she looked so sharply at me, when speaking of Mr.\
Can it be possible that they so misunderstand me as
‘0 inmEine that I am going to ‘ fall in love’ with him? How
l'idiCUIOUS." and a scornful smile settled about her lips and
lingered there as she entered the room below. No one was
there but Mr!- I-Iosmar, though she could hear Mr. Hosmar and
Mr- Clark, talking in the next. room. ,

“ Are you gOiDg home soon, aunt Rachel ?” she asked.

“ Wal. I did intend to clear the litter out of this room, an’
start a fire in the fire-place ter see of the chimny '11
mi"; but. if you’re tired, or in a hurry to go back, I’ll go,
now." ‘

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
    

    

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

“ Oh, no; you can stay until Mr. Hosmar is ready to return
if you have any thing to do. I will walk on alone."

“ Ain’t you afraid to go by yourself, Annie ‘9”

No, indeed; there is a good path, so that loan not lose my
way, and it is not very far.”

“ Better’n a mile, I reckon ; but, if yer really not a bit
afraid, I guess I’ll stay a spell longer, and clear out some of
this trash.”

So Annie started upon her homeward walk alone, and Mrs.
Hosmar began to collect the chips and fragments of wood that
strewed the floor, and arrange them upon the hearth for the
purpose of making a fire.

When all was ready, she exclaimed:

“,Wal, now, ef I ain’t smartl I wrapped up them matches
an’ put ’em in Annie’s pocket, cause I hadn’t none in this dress,

' an’ now I’ve let her go off without takin‘ ’em out; but, meb-
be Poke’s got some—he smokes a pipe.”

I Fortunately Poke was well supplied with the desired article,
and before many minutes there was a roaring blaze in the big
fire-place, and Mrs. Hosmar had the satisfaction to find that
the chimney “ drawet ” perfectly.

Presently Hosmar and Clark entered from the adjoining
room-and Hosmar exclaimed :

“Got a fire started hev you, Rachel? The chimhly seems
to do first rate, don‘t it?"

“Why, yes, I don’t b’lieve it’s a-goin’ to smoke any; 1 do
’bominate a smokin’ chimbly."

“ I wonder who don’t ? I reckon we’d better go home now.
Tell Poke to make the fire safe before he leaves. Whar’s
Annie ‘3"

Before Mrs. Hosmar could reply, Clark, who was standing
in the door, exclaimed :

“ The prairie is on fire over yonder.
you have prepared for it, or, Willl‘llll these boards and chips
and other stuff lying under the house and around it, you
might have had quite a different ‘ house-warming ’ from the

one you invited me to a little while ago.”

“ I noticed that the‘ air seemed smoky, but never thought
about the prairie’s bein’ on fire. I was calculatin’ on a spell

I of Indian summer,” said Hosmar. '

It is fortunate that.

    

51‘: :9.

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um sommo FLAME. .

Mrs. Hosmar ran to the door and looked out.

“ Why, it’s right between us and Squire Boker‘s, Ain’t‘lt P
she exc.uimed.

“ Yes, Rachel, but you needn’t be uneasy; ’twon't hurt any
of us. Why, woman, you 1001; as if you was a-goin’ to
faint."

“ Annie. Annie l" she exclaimed, almost frantically, motion-
ing with both hands toward the fire.

“What do you mean, Rachel? Isn‘t she here ?" nsket'
Hosmur, npprehensivcly, and Mr. Clark turned quickly to catch
her reply.

“ No, no 1 she started to go home nearly half an hour-
ago i"

“Perhaps she has had time to reach the plowed fields by
the house!“ suggested llosmur.

“ She is sech a. slow walker, I don’t b'lieve she‘d be any
avhar‘s near home i" replied his wife, dospniringly. I

“ What can we do 1'” asked Hosmur, turning to Mr.
Clark.

“ Nothing;r i" wns the reply. “The fire will pass by us in' less
than ten minutes, and then I will hasten over to the squire's
and see if she is not safely at home."

He spoke calmly, but his lips were compressed and pale,
and his gaze was fastened upon the line of surging flame, as
it‘ striving to pierce the wall of tire and smoke, and tell what
might be beyond its savage roar.

Poke had come down-stairs, and stood staring at each one
alternately, rolling his eyes in a sort of stupefied bewil-
derment.

“ Oh Lord ! what made us ever bring that child out to th“
dreadful country i” cried Mrs. Hosmar, bursting into a. sort. a '
hysterical weeping. I

“ llasu, Rachel; we will soon find out where she is, an i
like as not she‘s safe nn‘ sound as we are l” ,

In [on m- fit‘teen minutes from the time they discovered the
fire, it had reached the line of plowed ground which sur-
rounded 'LllC house, and Mr. Clark exclaimed:

“ I will hasten over to the squire’s. The sod is still bum-
lng and the ground is hot. You had better wait a little while
before you attempt it."

 

10 THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

“ I’s a-goiu’ too I” muttered Poke. “ I reckon I kin More
to spile 01w pa’r o’ boots, a-lookin’ after my own missus !”

“ If Miss Annie is not safely at home nou, we can neithet
of us be of any service to her. The fire was terrible, but
come on I”

Swiftly they passed down the path, each one glancinr,
around from side to side, searching for an 'ohject that might be
there ;~ but no, on, and on, and still nothing to be seen out
the black and smoking prairie. As they neared Squire Bokcr's,
Poke remarked:

“I ’spect I’s split dese boots for nuflin; but Miss Annie
wouldn’t objeck to ’placin’ ’em with a new pa’r, if she nad do
least supposition ob de ’cnsion ob do damage.”

The squire stood before his door watching the approach.
of the two men, and as they came up, he exclaimed:

“Why, you fellows must. be perfect salamandeas.
in thunderation brought you over the prairie jist new .9”

“Is Miss Annie at home ?" asked Clerk.

“ Why no; she went over to t’other house with Mrs. Hos-
mar quite a spell ago."

“ Yes, yes i but has not she returned ?”

“ Not as I know of. Why, you look as pale as of you
was scnrt. What’s the matter, man ?”

“ She started to return home alone. not long before we
discovered the prairie to he on fire. We thought she might
heVe had time to reach here before the fire came up,” ex-
.plained Clerk, hurriedly.

“ The deuce I” exclaimed the squire.

. don't b’lieve she’s here.”

No, she was not there i

What

For n few moments it seemed as if a dead weight had. ;

suddenly fallen upon every heart; scarcely a word was
spoken.
gazing around her in a sort of bewildered consternation,;
while Poke threw himself prone upon the ground, and gave It

“ I’ll ask Jane, but I

1

Mrs. Boker came out upon the door-step, and stood 1

    

  
 

F‘QOP—A

5‘.

1

ing
hot
des
dig]
(Illa

way to his grief in a series of groans and ejaculations that] low,

were pitiful to hear. I
“ Oh, mighty Lord l" he murmured to himself, “de las’

   

  

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do
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hat

you

re We
might
M” ex¢

5, but I

ht had
rd \Vas i
“1 stood
gruntiono "
md gave i

ons “mt l

LOST AND FOUND. 41

At length, however, the squire spoke. “Clark, we‘ll git
onto our horses and range over the prairie as fur as she
could possibly have got to, until we find some trace of her;
mebbe she’ll turn up safe :tu' sound somewhar, tho’ I’ll be
dogged ef I kin see how she could git out of that scrape!”

“We must send word to llostnar,” said Clark. “Here
Poke, get up! We are going to search for Miss Annie. You
must take a horse, and ride over to the new house, tell Mr.
Hosmar that we did not find his niece here, and that we are
searching for her. Give him the horse so that he can help
us; now hurry l" '

It would seem, that with the tall grass all burnt off
from the ground, any object upon the prairie, as large as a.
human being, would be readily discovered, if within :1. dis-
tance of. two or three miles; but, there are inequalities of
surface; hollows and mound-like hilloeks, and little ravines,
which impede the View ; and so the two horsemen prepared
for a close search, each one taking a separate course across
the blackened sod.

Squire Baker turned his horse's head toward the south; he
was well acquainted with almost every acre of land which
lay within a circle of half a dozen miles of his own farm,
and in the course of an hour had satisfied himself that further
search in that direction was useless. He had just made up
his mind to leave his “ beat," and ride over and join Clark,
when he discovered a figure moving slowly across the prairie,
within half a mile of his own house.

“ l’ni williu’ to swear that’s her i” he exclaimed, and stand-
ing up in his stirrups he uttered a shout that astonished his
horse, and came near being the cause of an unpremeditated
descent to the ground on his own part; but, after sitting in
dignified surprise for half a moment upon the animal's hind-
quarters, he regained his saddle, and dashed off at full speed
toward the newly-discovered object.

It was indeed Annie; but. what a sight! Her face and
hands were blackened by the smoke and flying Cinders; her
dress was scorched and shrivcled and torn ; she was bonnet-
less. and her hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders.

The squire called to her to stop, as soon as he approached
Iufilciently near to make her hear his voice, and as she turned

 

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

/ girl.

  

B THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

and recognized him, she sunk almost helpless to the

ground.

“ This is too bad, I vow !” exclaimed the squire, half
crying and half laughing with conflicting emotions, as he
jumped from his saddle, and bent over the nearly fainting
“ I ort to of brung the camflre bottle along.”

“ Water—a drink I” murmured Annie, imploringly.

“ Thar ain’t a drop nearer than home, but we’ll be thar in
less than no time ef you’ve got strength to set up. I’ll put
you on to Nance, an’ then git on myself. I kin carry you
before me easy, an‘ then ’twon’t take more’n five minutes to
git home 1"

When the squire was seen approaching the house with
Annie before him on the horse, there was a sudden breaking
forth of sobs, and cries, and tears, which had been partially
suppressed during the suspense of uncertainty.

Mrs. Boker, with many “ Oh dear’s,” and other ejaculations
of pity, helped Annie into the house, and seated her in the
big armed rocking-chair, and when the water came and Annie
had drank, she took a soft, clean towel, and bathed the almost
blistered face and hands, and brushed out the long, brown
locks of hair, and tucked them neatly up, before she would
allow her charge to speak a word.

Mrs. Hosmar made several feeble attempts to be of assistance
in some way, and laughed one moment and cried the next,
until Mrs. Boker, with kindly authority, bade her sit down and
keep still, till she got over her hysteries.

The squire, throwing himself into a chair opposite Annie,
exclaimed: “ Wal, young lady, you’ve give us all considerable
of a skeerl I hain’t had sech a palpitation of the heart he-

, fore, sence I “popped. the. uuestion’ to Jane here, purty near

thirty years ago, as I had when Clark came a-rushin’ through
the smoke and said you was a-missin’ l”

" Now, squire, I don’t see how you kin talk so sil.y,
when—"

“If I didn’t talk 'silly, I’d hev to act silly, an’ that would
‘be a heap worse. Now, of you'd any ruther see me in a fit
of hysterics, bring in yer camfire bottlel
tittle of this [excitement some way I”

‘fl’m very sorry to have been the cause of putting you

r i

  
 

'n

I must let 011' a .

and 1
way.
‘A '1'
When
that 37‘
might l

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mum’s ESCAPE.

  

nerves into sucn a condition I" said Annie, laughing in spite
of herself, at the idea of seeing the squire in hysterics.

“ You’ll feel Worse when you see Mr. Clark ; his hair .was
turning white at an awful rate, when we parted Company 1"

“ Now, squire, you’ve got to hush up ! We’re anxious to
hearAuuie tell how she happened to escape, without gittin‘
burnt more‘n she dit ,” interposed Mrs. BUkBl‘.

“ Yes, tell us what you did with yerself. We hadn’t much
expectation of finding you alive and well,I kin tell you t”
said Squire Bolter. .

“ I haven’t much to tell, and it all seems like a strange. ‘

wild (lream to me 1 Boys, please to bring me another glass

of water; my throat still seems filled with the bot smoke
! that nearly strangled me. When I discovered the prairie to
be on fire,” she continued, “I was not much more than
half-way home. My first impulse was to turn back and
attempt to run away froin the fire, but in a few moments I ’

3
3 '2 found that it t'as much the swifter of the two, and I Soon
3 I felt its hot breath sweepng over me. The wind was bringing
it the flames along with such rapidity, that I quickly saw that
.n  my desperate flight would avail me nothing; my bonnet fell
1“ off as I ran, but fortunately I had on my woolen shawl,
and this I pulled up over my head and face to protect
we me as much as possible from the heat. The hot wind nearly, ,
xg, suffocated me, and my lungs and throat seemed tilled with
mg the stinging smoke; thoughts flew through my brain with
lightning-like rapidity; I remembered hearingr Mr. Boltetj
n-‘e‘ relate an adventure of his own, in which he being nearly
“bye overtaken by a prairie-fire, would have probably lost his life,
1, be— had he not succeeded in getting another fire started, and a
neat space burnt over, upon which he remained unhurt while the '
.ough I flames passed on around him. Then, suddenly, it flashed
 into my mind ,that there Were matches in my pocket.
sil.y. I and I might perhaps succeed in saving myself in the same
» way. .
woutd , “ You know, auntie, that you gave me a package of matches
n a fit, i when we started over to the new house together—th said 

it. of a r that. you had no pocket in your dress, and you [mug-'1“, you
' I might lose them on the way. I suppOSe that your forgetting
‘8 your! to ask, me for them before I left you. Was providential, at

 

TEE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

44

The instant I re-

least it. was a. very fortunate thing for me.
membered the matches, I took them out of my pocket, exert-
ing myself to run still faster for a little way, then I stopped
and lighteda bunch and threw them upon the grass; it was so
dry that it took fire at once, and in an instant I was entirely
surrounded and almost overwhelmed by fire and smoke and
an air so hot that I was obliged to hold my breath and cover
up my entire face in the folds of my woolen shawl. I fol-
lowed immediately in the track of my fire; my dress was a
heavy merino, and my shoes tolerany thick, or my clothing
would doubtless have taken fire, but the heat and the exertion
overcame me in a few moments, and I sunk to the ground. I
must have remained in a sort of stupor for a little while, and
when I regained my consciousness and rose to my feet, I was
so bewildered, the appearance of the country was so changed,
my head was so dizzy, and the sense of danger still so strong,
that I could not tell in which direction I ought to go; but. I
started on, walking as rapidly as I could, scarcely knowing or
thinking where I was going, when I seemed to suddenly lose
my footing and sink—sink—sink into some nnt'athomable
depth. I do not know how long it was before I ‘reached

hottom,’ but the first thing I was next aware of was, that I,

was lying in an excavation of the earth, about a foot in depth,
and six or eight feet long, and that I must have ‘ bumped
my head' sadly when I fell, for it felt. very sore upon one
side. I lay still for a little while and indulged in a real good
cry, then crept out, and, seeing the house in the distance he-
fure me, started toward it, feeling forlorn enough. But I had
only walked a. little way when I heard a most welcome voice
commanding me to ‘stop and wait.’ It was Mr. Boker’s, and
now I can hardly realize that my ‘ troubles are all o'er,’ and
that I am safely at home.”

\Annie, havingretired to her own little nook, with the as-
sistance of “ aunt Rachel," was soon bathed and freshly
dressed, anointed with cream, and tucked into bed. where,
in a very few moments, she fell into a deep, refreshing
slumber. '

 
   

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“In”
l Bluaff
00M ‘
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Mrs. Hosmar then softly left her, and proceeded to the ‘ co

outer room, where she encountered Mr. Clark. He looked

tired and pale, and if his halt was not turned white, as 

, lne
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the us-

[reshly _
where, ;
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Boker affirmed, there seemed to be an additional furrow or
two upon his forehead. Upon seeing Mrs. Hosmar, he glanced
inquiringly.:u'onnd, as though expecting to see some one else
also; and she, interpreting the glance in her own way, an-
swered it, by remarking:

“ She’s a-layiu’ down ; she was so overcome and tired out
that we persuaded her to go to had an’ git rested till supper- '
time."

“ Then she has esottped serious injury ?” questioned he,
while his countenance cleared up and looked several degrees
brighter.

“ Wat, she complains some of her throat, nn’ her face an’
hands are purty near blister-ed; but, I reckon ef we nuss her
up for a few days, she‘ll be ’bout us well as ever.”

Mr. Clark seated himself by the fire, and seemed to fill. i
into a reverie.

0‘ H A P T E R v I
HOUSE-WARMING.

IT was Monday, the twenty-third of December. Winter had
at last come in full force. All the day and night before, snow
had fallen steadily, and the prairie lay it vast, unbroken field

’ 0f glistening snow. The sun shone now, however, clear and
bright, the sky was blue and cloudless, but the cold was most
intense. Roaring fires blazed up the wide chimneys at Squire
Boker’s. Around the hearth in the“ big room ” was gathered
a group of earnest talkers, composed of all the older tnemht-rs
ot‘ the two families, while the boys and their prime t'riend,
Poke, held possession of the kitchen.

“ I tell you what ‘lis, old lady,” said Squire Bolter, addres-
sing his wife, “ I don’t h‘lieve I kin stand it to go over to
Bluil‘town today. If Molly’s thar, I reckon she‘ll keep—it's
cold enough.”

“Wul, but Jerry was to leave her at the tavern till you
come for her, an’ she’ll be awfully put out, ef she has to stay
that ’mongst strangers, Over Christmas. Besides, it’s been

 

 

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

about three months sence she went away, and I want to see
her."

“ There‘s a heap of things we ort to hev befln'e Christmas,”
said Mrs. Hosmar, “ an’ it’ll take us all day tomorrow to git
moved, and ready fur the lumse-warmin’. Ei' lIosmar hadn't
invited the folks, I'd be l'ur puttin’ it off till this cold spell is
over."

“I reckon ’tisn’t so cold as we imagine," said Mr. Hos-
mar. “ \Ve’ve had sueh a long, pleasant fall, that we feel this
Weather more’n we will after We git used to it.”

“ Wal. when a feller’s whiskers git stifi‘ an’ white with frost
goin’ from the house to the stable, it’s a sign that it's mid
(llin’ cold," replied the squire, shrugging his shoulders and hold-
ing his hands over the blaze, as though the very remembrance
of the keen air out of doors made him shiver.

“ Oh, it’s cold, I’m well aware of that, but I reckon I’ll
hev to go to town, anyhow. “'e‘re ’hout out of flour, and
Rachel. wants some tixin’s for her Christmas dinner, an‘ Annie
is expectin’ letters; so, if you don‘t want to venture out, I
kin bring yer daughter; there’s no need of your goin’ on that
account."

/“ You don't understand this prairie as well as I do; it's
lniddlin’ easy to lose your bearin’s, jist after a snow-storm,
when thar ain‘t a sign of a road, nor a track of man or beast
to be seen ! So, of the old lady‘s bound to hev Molly home,
an‘ Mrs. Hosmar can’t git along without the fixin's, an’ Miss
Annie is expectin’ a love-letter—why, I reckon we‘ll hev to
go l"

“ It’s only fifteen mile, an‘ of you start right off, you can
{zit thar before dinner-time,” said Mrs. Boker. “ I’ll hev some
.mm-s heated to put into the sled to keep your feet warm, an’

,‘)?I kin take both butfaloes, or a couple of big blankets for
.tl try to. wrap up in.”

" If you are really going,” said Annie, “ I will make out a
list of the articles I wish to send for.”

“ i reckon we’ll go; I don’t see any git out of it.

you'd better git Annie to set down the things you want, 01‘“
mebbe I‘ll forgit something.”

, “I believe I will go too, squire, if you are not going w

have too‘much of a load back," said Clark. '

Rachel, _,

    

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THROUGH THE mums. '45

You kin go as well as not, if you want to. but we’ll all
‘emell ['rost’ before we git back home, you’d better believe i"

“I have my bear-skin robe to wrap up in, and your horses
are fast travelers. I do not think that we will freeze in go-
ing fifteen miles.”

“ You must. consider that we've got our road to break a
good part of the way, my friend, and that makes the miles a
heap longer.”

Those persons who have never experienced a western win-
ter, can not realize how piercineg cold are the winds which
sweep across the vast prairies with nothing to intercept them
or break their force. A person dressed in ordinary winter
clothing—(Narcoth and all—exposed upon the open country
on a day when the mercury stands at fifteen or twenty de-
grees below zero,will feel very much as thonin he were clothed
in garments of gauze. So our travelers incased themselves
in their hufl‘alo-robes and b 'ar-skins, tied up their ears, gave
a. “last fond look ” at the blazing fire and cheery room, and
started. ‘ I

All that day the kitchen was filled with the bustle of prepar.
ation, for. as Mrs. I-Iostnar said, the next was to be devoted
to “ moving " and no cooking could be (lone, and'the one after
was Christmas, and they were to have about twenty guests to
dinner; so Cake, and pies, and doughnuts, and lritles, and
bread, accumulated upon the sheIVes nnd tables—coffee was
roasted, chickens and turkeys were dressed and hung up in
the cellar, and every thing was done that could be done.

As evening drew near, there was much running to the win-
dows and watching for the expected sleigh. Mrs. Boker pre‘
pared an extra nice supper, in honor of the expected daugh-
ter, and the boys kept piling wood upon the fire, until, in
spite of winter weather, the whole house was titled with light
and warmth.

But, alas for vaiting suppers! they are sure to spoil, and so

The “ Short-cake" got eold ; the coffee

' boiled itself to death; the venison-steaks dried up. and refused
to be juicy and tender any ‘onger. Impatience was turnea
into anxiety; snow-drifts uud _“ break-downs ” became the
topics of conversation, and inqairing eyes were Constantly .
turned toward the staid old clock upon the mantle. which,

 

  

- “ thaw out.”

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE

ticked away with perfect nnconcern, seeming to be even more
deliberate than usual, until finally it struck nine,just as a loud
" hello 1" at the door announced the tardy arrival.

Poke and Sam sprung out to take care of the horses, and
in another moment, a dumpy figure, so bundled up that it
Seemed a‘ marvel that it could fly around so, burst into the
house,‘ and fell upon Mrs. Boker, with many kisses and
exclamations, and “ Oh dear, how good it seems to come
home i" .

Then the squire, and Mr. Hosmar, and Mr. Clark came in,
loaded down with bundles and “ robes,” and parcels of every
size, all of which were dumped in a promiscuous pile in one
corner, while the bearers gathered round the welcome fire to
When the brisk little figure finally emerged from

its manifold wrappings, it was introduced to Mrs. Hosmar and
Annie, as “ My daughter Mary," by the pleased mother.

“Fiddlesticks, wife! what’s the use of introducin’ these two
girls to one another? Why, Annie has heard you talk about
Mollie till she knows her full history from the day she cut
her first caper; and Mollie has asked me more questions to-
day than thar is in the catechism—how tall Annie was; if she
was so dreadful han’som’—if she was engaged, an’ how many
dresses—"

“ Now, pa, you know that ain’t So! don‘t you b‘lieve a word
he says, Miss Hosmar. ’Twas him that done all the talking.
He didn’t give me a chance to ask many questions. If I was
to tell all he said, ma’d be jealous right off."

“ You Mollie] You’d better not try to make difficulty oe-
tween yer ma. an’ me ’fore you've been home half an
hour!”

Mr. Hosmnr having by this time warmed up his benumhed
hands, unhuttoned his overcoat, and drew from an inside
pocket a letter which he handed to Annie.

“ Oh, thank you! I was almost afraid there was none for
me,” and after a. few pleasant words to Mary, shc retired to

‘ her own/little retreat to read her welcome “ news from a far
comitry.” Annie’s face grew thoughtful and troubled as she
; read, and she murmured to herself as she slowly folded the

closely-written‘sheet—“ Yes, I did wrong; he may not have
 realized howlfar

he has carried his habit of interfiarence and

   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

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A LETTER FOR ANNIE. 49

l
1‘ surveillance. I suppose his pet scheme occupied his mind so
i wholly that he could not bear to see a chance of its misearry-
.2 lug. He may not have meant to be unkind; still,’ how could I
‘ endure it? But, I will write to him. .Mamma loved him,

and trusted him implicitly,” and as she again unfolds the
} sheet to repel-use the letter, we will glance overthe pages,
1‘ and see what her friend Susie Malor says:

‘ “ DEAR ANNIE—I have only heard from you twice since you
went away, but as you say that 1t 1s fifteen miles to the nearest
post-office, I suppose I ought not to complain. And now, dear
Annie,I must proceed at once to the subject nearest my heart.
You know ot‘old. that 1 am exceedingly frank and plain-spoken,
and it is because I do really love you that I take the liberty of
giving advice.

“ Well. then, I think that you ought to write to Mr. Norris,

and let him know where you are, and with whom; he seems

. quite broken down and unhappy. There are persons who seem
i inclined to make a great mystery ot‘yonr sudden disalmcaranee
l _ from among us, and, according to Mrs. Plyne, he is nmeh an-
: noyed and mortified by being asked questions concerning you,
'. which of course he is unable to answer. I had a long and piti.
ful recital of his troubles from Mrs. P. a few days ago; but what

‘, has most excited my sympathy for him is the carewom and
l anxious expression that has settled upon his countenance. I
 know that you had wause to feel aggrieved and indignant, but I

 
     

7 really wish that you had taken sotne other way of escaping from
the nnpleasantness of your position. .
1 “Mr. Norris is too dignified to question me very closely, but
_ Mrs. Plyne asked me ‘ point-blank’ if I knew who it was that
3' you went with. I told her, with as innocent an air as possible,
l3 that‘a colored man came for you in acarriage, and that he ‘-
; seemed to be one with whom you were well acquainted.' I
e. i haven’t the least talent for prevarication, and I think that I was
m  strongly suspected of ‘squibing.’ and nothing would give me
., greater pleasure than to see you safely at home again," etc., etc"
3 etc.
Id l . .
me | Early in the forenoon of the day followmg, the squtre‘s fa-
l tnous oxen were hitched to the great sled, and “gee-'ltawed " ‘
for around to the door, and the work of loading on the goods to
‘0 __ noved was begun; and before night cameI the Hosmars
hr ‘ 2; Were comfortably settled in their new home. Poor,tircd, meek
‘she 5 Ml‘s- Hosmarfalthough generally prone to look upon the dark t
the file of things, could bu give a Sigh of content and satisfac-
hwa. ~ on, when, every thing its plaCe, she looked around and t

and

   
 

    

TEE ‘ PRAIRIE BRIDE.

realized that twas all their own—that they were once more
at home! '

Mr. Hosmar and the boys gathered around the blazing fire
in the kitchen, while Mrs. Hosmar cleared away the supper
dishes.

“I tell you what ’tis, Rachel, this is better than living in
somebody else’s house, isn‘t it ?”

“ Why yes; a body feels so much more independent. The
squire and his wife was both as kind and as clever as folks
could be, but I allers felt as if we was a-puttin' ’em out too
much, bein’ as we was strangers to ’em—no kin or any
thing,r l”

“ Wal, yes; but that wasn’t what. I meant exactly. Me an'
the boys kin do many a. good turn fur Squire Boker in the
course of the year, an’ I intend to pay ofi' fur all he’s done
fur us; but you know before we came West we always lived
on somebody else’s land and farmed it on the sheers, or paid
rent fur it, an’ now we‘re in a house of our own, and hev got
land of, our ownI and land that‘s worth plowin’, too. I tell
you it makes a man feel as if he was somebody l"

Mrs. Boker, Mary and Annie—who had remained as visit-
or, for a day or two, also had a busy day putting things “to
rights,” and restoring the house to its usual order, after the
departure of the other family; but by sunset every thing was
arranged in its accustomed place; a bright fire flamed upon
the neatly-swept hearth, the supper-table. with its snow-white
cloth. stnod ready to receive the smoking and substantial meal
which was to atone for the cold “ lunch ” which had, that
duv. taken the place of the usual dinner. Mrs. Boker was
resting her weary self in the arm-chair, while Mary was mak-
ing the final preparations for supper.

" Now, ma, supper’s ready, and here comes pa and Mr.
Clark. I'll light a candle, and then we‘ll set down.”

“I reckon I’d better not tell ‘em the news till after supper;

it might spile their appetites,” remarked the squire, glanc'
around at Mr. Clark, as though seeking his advice on the sfi- ' )-

jucts V. .

",I am sorry you have mentioned it, squire; Itdon’t like to
uhiuk about it myself, though I am not quite vain enough to
buppme it likely to-injure any one’s appetite but my own."

   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

l nnenn'rs. ' .1

“ If it is very afi‘ecting news, pa, you’d better keep it a spell,
for I can’t atford to lose my dinner and supper both l” spoke
up Mary, gayly. '

f Annie looked toward Mr. Clark with an almost unconsciously
inquiring gaze, and found him regarding her with a wistful
expression in his dark-blue eyes, which sent' a faint tinge of
color to her brow, and caused her hand to tremble slightly as
she received her cup of coffee from Mrs. Bolter, who, glancing
first at her husband, and then at Mr. Clark, exclaimed : I,

“ You might as well tell us now. I kin guess what it is,
though : Mr. Clark is a-goin’ nway— ain’t that it ‘3”

“ You're right, wife, an’ if Molly, here, hadn’t ’a’ come
home jest as she did, we’d ’u.’ been left as furlorn as an or-

, phanless widder."

‘1 “How did you come to take sech a sudden notion. Mr.

' Clark? I thought you was a-goin’ to stay here with us till

l springr l” asked Mrs. Bolter. ~

'1 - “ Well, indeed, Mrs. Bolter, I should have gone on in the

L: fall, as soon as I was well enough to do so ; now my business
partner writes that I must come. I received letters yesterday
that accuse me of gross neglect of duty in wasting so much

I. time; and, as my conscience does not plead ‘ not guilty,’ I

m suppose I must obey the summons at. once.”

“8 “ Wal, we’ll all be sorry to hev you leave us, but if you

2: ‘ must, why you must, I reckon i” said Mrs. Boker, with I

. si rh. .

“e l s“ on, you needn‘t feel so bad, wife ; he’s a-comin’ back

enl l “gin.” A

1:1“ t “ Is that so ?” exclaimed Mrs. Boker, with an involuntary

“as glance at Annie. '

mg- 3 Mr. Clark observed the look, and understood it. So did
the squire, who remarked. in a dry sort of way:

Mr” “ You know he’s been lookin' round the country consider- \
able sence he’s been here, and he’s bought up right smart of

9,8"; land ; of course he’ll hev to come out an’ look after it.”

 u And perhaps bring out a colony of New Englandmtm
. 1 mule on it," added Clark, quietly, u There is a beautiful em

for a town near the creek, with water enough for a min or two.
and timber sufficieig to build the houses, and 3 mil richer
“In any of them e er dreamed of." ‘ .

      

  

I V

's

.'f. ‘

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

“Besure and hev a smart lot of young men amongst them,
then. Beaux are dreadful skarce out here,” added Mary, with
a little laugh.

“Oh yes! I’d be willin’ to testify that the first spruce
Yankee that might come along with a one-horse wagon full

, of wooden nutmegs to peddle round ’mongst us, would be the
very feller you’d fall in love with, Miss Molly. Now, I hate
them slick Yankees—1’

“ Why, pa, you forgit that Mr. Clark is a Yankee, don‘t
you ?” said Mary, roguishly.

“ Wal, he don‘t- b’long to the breed I’m talkin’ about ; an’
besides that, he’s been ’round the world it heap, an‘ is consider-
able ahead of any other Yankee ever I heerd of.”

’ “ You will change your mind about the New-Englanders if
some of them should chance to find their way into this neigh-
borhood. In a few years you would see yourself surrounded

f by a thriving, enterprising community—here a school-house,
there a church, your prairie dotted with beautiful groves and
thrifty orchards. I acknowledge that the umnitigated Yankee
has some very small-sized ideas; but, take an eastern nmn,

‘ and westernize him, and you have one of the very best speci-
mens of an American man," said Clark.

“ I reckonyou don’t intend to start fur a few days yit, do

- you ?” inquired Mrs. Eeker.

“ I must help you celebrate Christmas, and then, if the
weather will permit traveling, I must go.”

“Yes, Jane, I’ve promised to start Willi him day-alter-to-
marrow, and take him as fur as Council Bluffs. There he kin
take the stage for St. Louis. It’ll take me two days to git to
the Bluffs, ‘an‘ two to come back. So you see you are going
to loseus both to once i”

“ We’ll be dretful lonesome, that’s certain, havin’ so many
leave us all at one time. But, how do you calculate to

t‘  ?”

“ Clark an’ me has been overhaulin' the old one-horse
sleigh, an‘ tinkerin’ it up a little, so’t I reckon it’ll hold to~
gether.’ Clark, you’d better drive over to Hosmar’s in it to-
morrow an’ git Poke to put in a brace or two ; he k,in,do more
tot'vards‘tixin‘ it up in ten minutes than we could by fussin’
over“ all day.”,‘ ‘- '

 
 
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
      

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cnnrsnms storm. 58

“ That is a good idea, squire; I would really like to drive
Gentle-Mike once more ; and if I never return to the West, I
give him to you; but take good care of him, for he and I are
good friends.” ,

“ Wal, drive him to-morrow. You kin take ~Annie over;
she’d ruther hev n sleigh-ride, than a sled-ride. I know.” ‘

Christmas morning came with the promise of a pleasant
day, and long before sunrise, the family at the new house were
all up and astir. Jim and Johnny were the first out of bed.
NO mnsiderations of comfort or propriety could restrain
their impatience to learn what was in store for them in the
Way of Christmas gifts; so without waiting to put on their-
clothes, but with their garments in their hands, they tumbled
down the stairs, and rushed through the cold and dark into‘
the kitchen. After a hasty fumble, and the discovery that
there really was something for them, they concluded to have a
tight before making any further investigations; so the ashes
were quickly raked off the bed of fiery coals upon the health ;
the dry kindlings, close at hand, were thrown on, and soon a.
bright and cheerful blaze revealed to the delighted eyes of the
eager boys, the treasures of Christmas-morn. There were
candy and nuts, and little fanciful cakes in every conceivable
shape; there was in each het apair of knit mittens in red
and blue and white diamonds, and—better than alleust under
each pair, lay a good, serviceable pocket-knifew“ the very
thing I wanted 1” cried each one exultingly—uud then there
was a. hasty putting on of trowsers, the first need of them erg;
ben’enccd, being, a pocket to put the knife in. v ‘ "

“ Poke thinks that nobody didn't get. any thing but him, I
rWalton i” said Jake, glancing significantly at Poke’s feet, which
Wen: [must rather conspicuously forward into the light of the
fire, “I H

“ De fuc’ i3," said Poke, complacently, “ dese boots do suit
me mos‘ awful well. Massa Clark's a mighty nice man; heap»
“of gemlcman ’lmut him. Didn‘t use to like him so berry much, ‘
but, we's all reliable to be mistaken on firs’ acquaintance."

“Oh, he’s bully, I tell you I” responded Jake. “H? mm
me yisterday, ’fore we come over here, how to manage “~10
“*6 Yer old boots away alter you W“ “Sleep, no} set them in
their place, so't when you got up in 1118 mornin‘vmll'd PM ’931 _

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THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

on ’fore you knowed it——an’ ’twas me that got yer measure fur
him ’fore he went to town, so that they’d be sure an’ fit—
an’ he give me a silver dollar to spend fur jest whatever I’ve
L mind to !"

“Wal, dese is a fit, sure enough i" replied Poke, eying his
monstrous feet with evident delight.

“ Wal, now, come to yer breakfasts, all of ye—I’m in a dret-
All hurry, fur it’s time them turkeys was a parboilin‘, an’ the
mornin’ is slippin’ away powerful fast.”

About ten o’clock, Gentle-Mike was hitched to the sleigh
in which Annie was to be taken over to her new home. He
was a. beautiful animal, perfectly gentle and well-trained. His
glossy brown coat was like satin ; his delicate and pointed ears
seemed quivering with animation; his large bright eyes were
expressive of spirit and intelligence: his nostrils were thin and
glowing; no wonder that his master loved him, nor that he
stopped to give him an affectionate caress, as he enjoined him
to stand very quiet until all were ready to go. The bear—skin
' robe was brought out and placed in the sleigh; then a bundle
was stowed carefully away under the seat, and finally Mr.
Clark and Annie came out, followed to the door by Mrs.
Boker and Mary.

“ This is a splendid morning for a sleigh-ride !" called out
Mary, as Mr. Clark seated himself in the sleigh, and began to
tuck the furs around Annie. “ If I was in your place I’d goon
down the creek au’ meet the folks that’s comin’ up to Hosmar’s.”

“ It as a pleasant morning, and it" Miss Annie does not ob-
ject we will drive on a few miles; the sleighing is prime 1”
caid Mr. Clark, glancing at. Annie iiiquiringly.

“ Gentle-Mike looks as though he would like it 1” said
Annie.

“But would you—that is the question ?” said Clark in a low
voice.

“Oh, yes indeed! I love a good sleigh-ride when it is not
too cold—especially with such a horse as this i” was the guy
reply. ' '

' “ Well, then, Mrs. Baker," said Mr. Clark, “if we are no;

at Mr. Hosmar's when you arrlve there, don’t think that _I have i‘
run away with the sleigh, nor that we are lost in the snow,
We be sure to be there-before dinner.” ' 

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BLEIGIIIN G AN D SLEDDIN G.

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“ Better take another shawl to wrap up in if you’re a-goin'
to ride fur, hadn’t you Annie ‘3” said Mrs. Boker,

“ Oh no I it is not Very cold to-day, and Mr. Clark‘will not
drive far I suppose; we shall be at auntie’s almost as soon as
you.” ‘

“ Well then, Mike, you may go 1" said the driver, and in a
moment they were gliding rapidly away over the snow.
covered prairie.

“ How bright and cheerful the world looks this morning,” '
said Annie, as they turned toward the creek. “ Christmas is
the holiday of holidays to me, and I do love to see the su
shine on it I” I

“ ’Tis the flavor of our Childhood’s beliefs and enjoyments of
it, still clinging around it, which constitutes the charm, I sup-
pose,” said Mr. Clark.

“Partly so. Santa Claus is 9. ‘ bona fide’ personage in my
eyes yet; I can’t hear to give him upl I could not help think-
ing, as we sat around the fire last evening, what a good wide
chimney there was for the old fellow to come down without
the least danger of a tight squeeze to his pack, and I was
nearly tempted to hang my stockings in the corner I" said
Annie, with a gay laugh.

“ It‘ I had but known it, Imight have acted the part of
the good saint. I had a. package of hon-bons in store for
the boys."

“ They have cause to rejoice, then, that theirprivilegeshuvc
not been usurped l But there comes a sleddoad of the down.-
the-creek guests, I believe i”

“ Why yes! that is Mr. Wilson and his family but we will
take our drive still, unless you wish to return at once.‘ It is
not yet eleven o’clock, and we . have an abundance of‘
lime ‘:'”

“ I am enjoying the ride, and do not object in the least to
another mile or so i" replied Annie, frankly, and then, seeing
Mr. Clark's face light up with a pleased smile, she blushed,
and began to feel indignant. I

“The conceited fellow." She thought; “I’ll warrant he
thinks it’s himself that I am Pleased With instead 03' the
ride I" and for a time her gayety was lost,_ and she
scarcely responded a word to the remarks made by her escort.

I _ ‘ \

 

 

 

  

56 Tue PRAIRIE BRIDE.

At length the silence became mutual. Mr. Clark could not
understand the sudden change in his companion’s manner;
he felt troubled and embarrassed, but resolved to“ say his say."
The time was short—the opportunity, perhaps, his last, and he
began : v I

' "' Miss Annie, whither have your spirits flown ? A few
moments ago you were as blithe as a bird; now you seem
sunk in despondency 01' displeasure. I am at a loss to know
’which."

“ Neither, Mr. Clark. I was but reflecting upon the vanity
of mankind." '

“ I am doubtless dull of comprehension, forI really do not
understand the matter at all ; but I have something to say to
you which I fear may not he very pleasant for you to hear,
but I must say it while I have an opportunity.

“ You know that I expect to leave this place to-morrow, to
return to the East, and I wish to say to you before I go, that
——,that 1 love you—that the dearest desire of my heart is to
win you for my wife. I have never presumed to think that
you cared for me, and if I had not been going away, I should
not yet have spoken.”

“ Mr. Clark," began Annie, but he immediately interrupted
her:

“ Do not say any thing now. I can not bear to hear you

,declare that you eare nothing for me, although I fear that you
do not; but, will not you allow me to write to you? will not
you answer my letters ‘3”

There was no reply, and Mr. Clark resumed :

V “ I shall come back here next summer, and if, as I hope,
you will permit me to write to you during my absent-e,
our acquaintance will grow—perhaps you will learn to love
me."

There was such a pleading earnestness in the speaker‘s
voice, that Annie’s indignation subsided into some kinder l‘eel-
ing, and she answered, gently; '

. “ I can not make any promises, Mr. Clark. I do not love

I ‘V "you; we are but little more than strangers to each other.

v How have I led you to thiuk—"

. , ,t‘YQu new!“ have; I did not presume to imagine that you
 kWed 111e,:  only ask to be remembered. I will come again;S

/ ,
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A REMEMBRANCER. 5'?

the future is always full of hope and promise; perhaps it holds
the lnessing of your love for me."

“ I think we have gone as far as we ought, Mr. Clark;
please turn Mike’s head toward home.”

“ In another moment I will; but first say if I may not
write to you—if you will not wear this ring? not as a synr
bnl or a pledge, but merely as a remembrancer of me."

“ I can not wear the ring. I do not wish you to think that
I shall ever love you; but, if you wish to write to me, I will
read and answer your letters with pleasure, provided they are
not ‘ love-letters,’ ” she added, trying to regain the former
gayet-y of her tones.

Gentle-Mike was now turned homeward, and he was rapidly
nearing Mr. Hosmar’s, before either one spoke again, and then
Mr. Clark said:

“ We are friends at least, and I must be content to wait;
but I have faith and hope to fortify me against despair, 01
even despondenoy.”

As they drove up to the door, Poke came out to take
charge of Gentle-Hike, and his broad smile and zealous at-
tentions to both horse and master, were a cause of wonder
(0 Annie, who had not yet heard the story of the boots.

The “ Mtge-warming” went off with entire success. The
guests were all in a good humor, and seemed bent upon enjoy-
ing themselves; the dinner was bountiful and worthy of the
Occasion; the youngsters were abundantly supplied with can-
dies, nuts, and various sorts of confectionery, Mr. Clark and
Annie having, each of them, made special provision for that
part of the entertainment; and Squire Boker seemed over-
flowing with jokes and jollity.

Mr. Clark sung several popular songs in his very best style,
and was applauded and admired to such a degree, that in
sheer self-defense he was obliged to suggest Poke and his
banjo, as a. substitute for himself, in the way of musical enter-
laimnem. The squire “seconded this motion” with great
Dromptness and energy, but Poke retained his seat by the

' chenvfire, and was not to be persuaded to show off his ac-
)mplishments “ before folks.” In vain Mary teased and her
ther exhorted ; in vain the company declared that they had
ever seen or heard a banjo, and were,“ most uncommon ”

 

I  ‘spects Mnssn Clark’s a mighty nice man.
.E‘Wr'sich B prejudice ag’in’ him. I use’ to t’ink he wasn’t'”

    

53 ' 'rrm pnamm BRIDE.

anxious to do so; in vain the boys brought forth the instru-
ment and endeavored to put it in his hands: he remained an
stolid and immovable as a lay figure, and was to all intents and
purposes, deaf, dumb, and blind.

Finally the squire turned away with an expression of un-
/mitigated disgust upon his countenance, and returned to the
sitting-room, where he sought out Annie.

“ See here, Miss Annie," he hogan, “ we want you to come
.out into the kitchen, an’ see what you kin do with that oh-
stinate darky. We’ve been a-tryin’ to coax him to give us a
little tune or two, but thar he sets an’ won’t even wink i I‘m
willin’ to swear that he comes the neardest to hein’ a mule of
any human I ever happened to come acrost yitl But, ef any-
body, kin git him to do it, it’s you ; he generally knocks under
when you, take him in hand, though he's a leetle inclined to
go slow, you know. Brit, try him, fur pity’s sake. The very
idea of the music that‘s a-stickin’ in that old banjo, an’ nothin’
but a little thumpin’ wantin’ to bring it out, is enough to make
a fellow ohstreperOus l”

I“ I feel really sorry for you, squire,” replied Annie, laugh
ingly, “ and will see what can he done, but the company
must congregate in this room. He will remain as immov-
able as a stone as long as all those strangers are around
him.” ‘

“ Wal, then I’ll hev ’em out of that in less than no time.
I’ll git Clark to sing the ‘ Californy Diggers,’ that'll bring ’em
in here like a. swarm of bees round a posy-bed when the jew
is on.” ‘

So saying, the squire walked ofi‘ to secure Mr. Clark’s co-
operation, and soon, as was expected, the kitchen was de-
serth by every one but Poke, who retained his rigidity until
Annie came out and closed the door between the two rooms.
She carried a parcel in her hands, and advancing toward the
fire, said, pleasantly :

, .“ Aunt Rachel tells me that you had a Christmas present
this morning, Poke.”

“ ’Deed I did, Miss Annie! Dcse yer boots was a-standin'
in de place of de ole ones when I got up dis mornin’. I

 

Berry sorry I ebber , .

   

 

 

u’t."

Penn‘s PRESENTS.

nobody of any ’count, but de squire says he made a heap of
money w'ile he was in Culit‘orny, ’sides hein' a lawyer, an’
b‘longin‘ to one of de fuss titm‘lies up north.”

“\Vt-ll, Pt)li0,1 have somethingr for you, too. I’ve been
waiting for an opportunity to give it to you; here it is," and
she handed him the puelmge whieh she had been holding.
Poke took it with a delighted grin, and turned it over twa
or three times without attempting to undo it, until Annie ex-
cluimed :

“ Why don’t you look to see what it is?
you cure uhout my present.”

“,Now, Miss Annie, you know dztt ain't so I" expostulzrted
Poke, ltn\\‘t‘:1p1;ing the paper. “ 1‘s berry lunch obliged to ye.
Why, Miss Annie, et' here :tiu’t two shirts! linen hosoms all
plnited on line “8— un’ :1 west ! Why, Miss Annie, but dis is
:l mus’ splendid \\‘CSl—tlfc‘llrc[, ain‘t it, now ?" and Poke held
aloft the gorgeous red-und-yellow-flowered garment in an ec-
stasy ol‘ :ulmirntion.

“I want you to put it on, so that I can see how you look
in it—now, while the door is closed, and the company is in the
other room."

Poke hurriedly arrayed himself in the new vest, and then
strutted across the room to tltcliltle square looking-glass which
hung,r against the wall, and surveyed himself with undisguised
admiration.

“ Now,” said Annie, “feel in the watch-pocket; you will
find something in it.”

Poke thrust his fingers into the pocket. and drew forth a
bright, new tivevdollur gold-piece, lightly wrapped in a piece
of tissue-paper.

“’Deed, Miss Annie, you is too good.
nebher Ittly up fur all dese—”

“The money is to put with your savings, Poke, not. to
spend, and I owed you something for fixing up my room so
nicely. Now, put on your coat and take your banjo; I’m
going to sing a song or two to gratify these people, and I
want you to help me." ‘

A dubious and perplexed expression flitted across the dusky
countenance, and mingled with the broad smile which still
lingered there, but a glance at the resplendent vest and me

I don’t believe

I’s afeered I can’t

 

    

  

00 L m PRAIRIE mums.

glittering coin in his fingers, banished all but the smile, and he
replaced his coat with alacrity, took up his banjo and
» Said

“ What is you a-goin’ to sing, missus?"

“ You taught me half a dozen songs when I was a child.
We used to sing them together under the great apple-tree
which shaded the'kitchen-door. We have not. sung them to-
gether for years. but I remember them perfectly, and I know

that you do, for I heard you humming my old favorite, “ Be- /

‘fore‘ the Cabin Door," only a few days ago. We will try that
first. I will open the door, and when they hear tl.e banjo I
presume they will all come out here, but you need not look
at them or think of them at all: we will sing just as we
used to do under the old apple-tree.”

Annie then opened the doorhetween the two rooms, and Poke
struck a few notes of a prelude, which proved a signal for a
rush to the scene of action, and in a moment the whole party
was gathered in the ample kitchen. Poke had a peculiarly
rich, mellow voice, exactly suited to the simple melodies of his
' ‘race, and Annie’s clear, alto tones were sweet and well trained,
and the little audience of uncritical pioneers were fairly en-
chanted, and thought that they had never heard reaimusio be-
fore.

Squire Boker was passionately fond of music; it seemed to
stir up all the tender emotions of his soul, and he listened to
the singers with adelight that seemed almost childish, and
when they sung a little song for their last, which had just a
“touch ” of the pathetic in it, he was obliged to resort to the
time-honored custom of blowing the nose in the most vigorous
and stentorian manner, in order to conceal his emotion. In
fact, Mary openly declared, as soon as the song was finished,
that, “ Pa was a-crying.”

“ Crying, indeed I" said her father; “jest as if a fellow
couldn‘t blow his nose on Christmas without being accused of
boo-hoo-in’. Now, if you could sing like that, Miss Molly,
you’d be good for something i” i

“ Wal, husband," said Mrs. Bolter, “ it's purty near font

 ‘ (ficlock; an’ I reckon we'd better be a-fixin’ to start

home." I
“'Wemust go, too,” remarked Mr. Wilson ; “ it'll be dark,

 

   
   

 

(la
an
ill;
mi
the

DH)
B! m
be 5
Was

. lllor

‘ 01‘ ll
' (thou

 

 

 

  

Goon-Ntem‘ AND GOOD-BY 61

now, afore we kin git home. Git yer duds on, wife. - I’ll be
round to the door with the sled in less’n ten minutes."

And so the new house of the prairie-settler was “warmed,”
and so seemed to be too some of the hearts which gathered in
it, for, as the guests departed, there was much shaking of
hands, and many injunctions to “ be neighborly," and “ socia-
ble,” and “not to stand on ceremony,but come jest when-
ever you kin.” So that the IIosmars began to feel as though
they had gained both friends and home. . A

Mr. Clark did not seek to say a special “ good-by,” to An-
nie. He spoke cheerfully of “hoping to see them all again be-
fore another Christmas should come round,” and then, with a
final “ good-by, all 1" sprung into his sleigh, took possession of
the lines, spoke a word or two to Mike, and glided swiftly
away

0 H A P T E R V I I .
rrma: STORM-VICTIM.

SQUIRE BOKER’s fatnin were “up and doing,” long before
daylight upon the morning after Christmas, and the substantial
and smoking-hot, breakfast was partakcn of by Candle-light
that the final preparations for the journey to Council Blufi‘s
might be completed in good season for the travelers to have
the advantage of an “ early start.” . _

But the aspect of matters out. of doors seemed decidedly un-
Dropitions; the air was damp, and a chilling wmd blew
Stroneg from the south-west ; not a speck ot blue sky was to
be seen; all was dull, gray and lowering. So the hrcakmst
Was lingered ove‘, and the weather discussed until the tardy

, lllorning had advanced to sunrtso.

"I tell you what ’tis, Clark,” said the squire, glancing 0m

~ 0f the u indow, “I don’t b‘licve thar's any use in our thinkiu’
‘ about startin’ out to-(lay; it’s my OPIHIOH that it’ll either rain

Orsnow, before two hours, an‘ to 81111“ across the prairie on
lien a trip in oncertain weather, WOUld be most uncommon:

 

 

 
 

  

PB A I RIE

62 ' 'rm'c name.
foolish. I reckon you’ll hev to hold on a while till this spell
of weather fizzles out!”

“ As I Ill) anxious to be on my way as soon as possible, I
think I will venture to go as far as Blufltown this after-
noon, if it does not rain so as to melt. all the snow ofi‘ the
ground. If you are willing to part with your sleigh, squire,
I will take Gentle-Mike and go to Council Blutiis alone. I can
leave the horse with some one there until an opportunity oc-
curs to have him sent. back to you."

After some further discussion, the plan was finally agreed
upon. As the day advanced, it appeared to grow rather
colder, and instead of rain came little hlustering snow-squalls;
but about noon the clouds grew thinner and higher, and the
wind almost ceased to blow. Mr. Clark thought that he
would gain nothing by writing, and so, immediately after din-
ner, Gentle-Mike was harnessed and driven around to the
door; the bear-skin robe, and kind Mrs. Boker’s inevitable
hot stone were placed in the sleigh, and, alter a. lingering
hand-shaking, and reiterated good-byes, the young man de-
parted.

For an hour or two after noon, the sun seemed to he mak-
ing an etfort to dispel the clouds and cheer the world below;
but then the clouds grew denser, the wind rose, the snow he-

, gun to whirl through the air with a violence peculiar to west—
ern snow-storms, and the temperature grew rapidly lower,
until it seemed a wonder that it could snow.

In the course of half-an-hour from the time the storm he-
gan it Would have been unsafe to venture out of doors; the
air was lite 'ally full of snow—fine, icy, whirling, penetrating
snow. The wind kept that which was falling—or tryin},r to
fall—in the air, and also took that which had once been on
the ground, and kept it in circulation likewise. A person ex-
posed to such a storm, would be liable to become utterly con-
fused and lost, and perhaps perish, when not a rod from shelter
and safety.

Mr. and Mrs. Boker grew seriously alarmed for Mr. Clark’s

'wclfare. v

 

“ I’d give my best yoke of oxen of he hadn’t a-started," or
claimed the squire at last, walking to the window and gut-in!
at the tempest without.

    

 

 

 

l;

':h

b’l

lg:

 

the
mg

to
on
ex-
on-
lter

rk’s

 

 

WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 68

“ I do wish we'd ’a’ persuaded him to ’a‘ waited,” replied his
wife ; “ he’ll be most certain to perish unless he reached a stop-.
pin’ place ufore this storm broke loose l"

The afternoon wore away, night fell, and still the tempest
aged. Windows and doors shiveer and rattled; the roof
ereaked, the tine snow sifted in at unseen crevices, and the
wind seetned to penetrate the very walls.

Father, mother and daughter were seated closely around the
blazing tire. The two women were knitting silently, and the
squtre, with his boots off, was toasting his feet upon the
hearth, and indulging in a doze. The old clock upon the
mantle Struck Seven, when a heavy thump against the side of
the house caused Mary and her mother to spring to their
teet.

“ What was it, ma ?" exclaimed Mary.

“The dear only knows “'ake yer pa."

The squire came out of his doze with an ' '
\ewilderetl sort of way, inquired dreamily; em)”, and m a

“ Ilas Clark eonte ?”

Just then the sharp whinny of a horse was heard at the
door, and e equire, fairly aroused, hastily pulled on his boots
\ud without stopping to put on his hat, httrried out, followed
to the door by Mary, who peered out into the storm, anxious
to know what was the matter; but the snow whirled into her
face, preventing her frotn making any discoveries, until her fa-
ther's voice was heard exelaiming :

“I vow i if this ain’t Mike an’ the sleigh 1’

Mrs. Boker and Mary both came out upon the steps.

“Molly, you go in and hold a light to the window.
b‘liei'e the sleigh’s empty after all.”

Mary ran in, and held the candle up to the window near
Which the sleigh stood; for Mike had swung the vehicle
\gainst the house when he stopped.

“Jane, Molly—he’s here! Froze dead, I‘m afraid!
god’s name, help i help i”

By the united efforts of the three, the miserable man was I
Iarried into the house and laid upon the bed.

, “ Whisky in the closet, Mary; bring it, and that bundle of
01d flannel on the shelf l’ 4
These orders were issued while the cramped and stiffened

I don't

In

 

r u»

t_t
x2

    

    

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

limbs were being straightened, and their covering removed.
Then blankets were brought, and a course of rubbing with

. “flannel cloths wet in whisky begun, and kept up, until signs

of returning consciousness appeared.

“Now a little whisky in his mouth I"

This was done, and repeated every few moments, and the
friction kept up, till great drops of sweat rolled down the anx-
ious faces of the two earnest workers.

“Pa, poor Mike is a—whinnyin’ at the door; he oughtn’t
to stand there in the cold after such a run," said Mary.

“ That’s so, Molly, but I can’t ’tend to him now.”

“ I‘ll take a buffalo-robe out, an’ put over him.”

“ A good notion, Molly. He’s a human beast.”

Finally the life which had been almost chilled out returned;
but days of suffering, lauguor uud prostration followed.

The storm lasted all that night, and until near noon the
next day; then the wind lulled, and the sun shone forth in
unobscured glory. Clurk lay in a sort of stupor, only occa-
sionally seeming fully conscious, and speaking a few feeble
words. The squire hovered around the bed, like a mother
over the cradle of a sick child.

About the middle of the afternoon the sufferer awoke from
a lethargic sleep, and as soon as his wakefulness was observed,
the squire went to his bedside.

“ Any thing I kin do fur ye, Clark ?"

The young that: looked at the kind face bent over him, for
a mement, in silence, and with eyes of glittering brightness.
then asked :.

“ Has Annie come yet i”

“ Why no; I didn’t know you wanted her sent fur.”

“ Then she has perished—perished 1"

“She's safe'at home, friend; what do ye mean? Jane,
come here; I b’lieve Clark’s out of his head I”

“ Mike was dragging her through the snow—and it was so
cold—~50 cold! He wouldn’t stop—I tried to follow—but
the drifts were so deep."

“Mike’s in the stable, 1111' Annie is sung an’ warm at home.
You mustn’t git sich crooked notions in yer head, man," said

{the squire, seemingly, but the expression of the glassy eyes
'  not change, and Mrs. Boker remarked : ‘

 

le,

50

I6.
lid

 

 

  

FLIGHTY BY SPELLS. 65

“ He’s feverish; he’ll be apt to be flighty fur a spell. ]

wish, though, she wus here ; it might keep him from worryin‘

if he wus to see her ’round."

“ I’ll take the sleigh and go after her ef you think so.”

“ l’m ttfeerd she wouldn’t come; some girls is so curious.”

“ Site ain't, though. She’s got more sense, un’ independence
enough to make a Fourth-o’-July celebration of I I‘ll go right
Off. The snow is drifted with young mountains, but I reckon
I kin git through it, or around it.” K

Annie came ; and good Mrs. Boker met her upon the steps.
to give a few words of explanation. »

h “ He‘s a leetle flighty hy spells—seems to think you're in
danger or distress somewhere; so we thought if you wus to
come over where he could see you fur himself, mebbe ’twould
quiet him off, or save him from frettin’ himself into a fever." '

“ Well, here I am, and willing to do all the good I can. Is
he awoke ‘3"

“I h’lieve he is. Now you jist go in, an’ walk right. up
nn’ speak to him. Mary waits on him as if he wus her bro-
ther 1”

Annie understood the kindly consideration which prompted
the last clause, and could not refrain from a. smile. Prudcry
was no part of her composition.

Mr. Clark appeared to sleep, and Annie sat down by the
fire. Mury came quietly, and relieved her «‘6 her wrappings ‘
with only a whispered greeting. But when the squire returned
from the stable, with his louder step and In- re noisy move-
ments, the sleeper aroused, and asked the same question as
bethre :

“ I-Ias Annie come ?” -

Annie immediately went to the bedside, and ‘nning toward
him, said, gently:

“ Here I am. What shall I do for you 1’"

He looked at her with an inquiring and perpk/Ied gaze fit!
a moment; then the expression of doubt and uncertainty
changed to one of rupture and delight. He reached forth
both his handS. took one of hers and pressed it to his .‘ius, and
murmured, “ She is safe—safe l” Then, with a sigh of perfect
content, he sunk into sleep again. V
Annie softly drew her hand away and stole back to the fire.

 

 
 

    
   
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
    

' 3 tent on, and on; until I knew that We had had more than

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

Her eyes/were full of tears, and her heart beat so rapidly that,
for a few momentsxshe could scarcely breathe; and with an
open book to screen her face from the tire, and from observa-
tir nkshe sat and pondered.

“Am I really so much to this man?
ll ves me. for myself alone.
i eiress, to him. ”

If he loves me, he
I am not Annie Howard the

Perhaps— But what else she thought must

i he left to conjecture.

About two weeks after the catastrophe of the snow—storm,
Mr. l-Iosmar proposed to his wife and Annie to spend the even-

' ,iug at the Bokers’.

, “ 'l‘he squire says Clark ain't well enough to venture out
yit, an’ is dreatful lonesome an' oneasy like; he thinks a little
company would cheer him up; so of thar’s nothing in the
way, We’ll go over after supper.”

“ Nothing that I know of. I shall be glad of the chance
fur my part. What do you say, Annie?”

“ I will go, of' course, auntie. It won’t do to refuse invita-
tions when they are so ‘few and far between,’ ” was the laugh-
ing reply.

so, by “early candlelight,” the neighbors were chatting to-
gether around a cheerful fire at the squire’s. Mr. Clark was
seated in the “old arm—chair,” looking as pale and “ interest-
ing” as any hero could desire. Annie was patiently initiating
Mary into the mysteries of some new “ stitch ” in thncy knit-
ting, while the two elder ladies were engaged in discussing the
merits and demerits of “cross - band ” and “ double- art’-
twisted.”

“I don't b’lieve I ever heerd you tell how you happened
0 git back here that night, Clark '3" said Mr. Hosrnar.

“ ’Twas Mike’s sagaeity that brought me here," replied the
(oung man. “In less than an hour after I started away it
wegan to storm. I thought at first ’twas but a squall, and
Would soon bl? 0V0)"; then, as the snow catne faster and faster,
and the wind grew colder and colder, I began to realize that
my situation was becoming perilous; I urged Mike on, think
ing Illilt‘ I might soon find shelter, but the wind was in my

> ,face; the, air was thick with snow, and I soon became p01“

l'ectly bewildered, and uncertain whither I was going; but we

 

     

 

'67

   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
    

CON VALEBCEXCE.
A

time to reach Bluffton. I saw, too, that the short winter 3f
ternoon was drawing to a close, and felt that I was approach-
ing a critical point. I slapped my hands together and stamped
my feet, as long as I had powerto move them; then a firowsy
indifference to consequences tool; possession of me, and I got
down into the body of the sleigh, as well as 1 could; pulled
the hear-skin over me, and left Mike to take his own course.
The faithful creature brought me here, and I am again indebted
to these good friends of mine for the best of nursing and the
Kindest care.”
“ Oh yesi but then a certain young lady had to be sent
for before you‘d b’lieve ’tt'asn't her that needed takin’ care
of, institl of yet‘self; or, (lid you jest pin-tend that, so’t I’d go
nn’ bring her over for you to look at 1*” said the squire, jo-
cosely.
“ I remember a sort of horrid nightmare, in which I seemed
to see Miss Annie struggling through mountain-like snow-drifts,
while I was unable to advance a step to her assistance; but
I was not aware, until now, that I made my ‘ feverish fancies' ‘
known.” ‘

‘ .

CHAPTER VIII. 
WON. '

SEVERAL weeks of convalescence followed Mr. Clark’s un-
fortunate ride. A mild and almost spring-like February suc-
ceeded the cold and stormy month of January, and there ,'
Seemed no longer any impediment in the way of the long-de-
clared return to the East; but some charm seemed to‘hold
the young man back, and ’twas not until the middle of the /
month that he again made preparations for the journey

Upon the afternoon previous to his intended departure, he
walked over to the. “ new house ” to hid good-by, tohis friends
there. A soft and delicate green was already beginning to ap- _
Pear upon the prairie; the sky was blue and cloudless ; the sun -:
shone cheerily, and the out-of—door air was so pleasant, that, 
me! a. few moments’ conversatiOn with Mr. and Mrs. Hosmar, _

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

and a short frolic with the youngsters, he proposed to Annie
that they should go out for a walk; and the two were
soon strollng along toward the bluffs which rose about half-
a—mile beyond the house.

“And you are really going, tomorrow ‘2” asked Annie.

“ Yes, I am really going in the morning unless something
altogether unforeseen occurs to prevent; and I must tell you
now, before I forget it, that Mrs. Boker sent an urgent request
by me that you would spend the time of the squirc’s absence
with her. She says that you are “ sech good company.”

“Quite a compliment. But, seriously, good, kind Mrs.

Boker is one of my best friends, and I love her dearly !"

“ Lore her, Annie! oh, what would I not give to hear you
say that of me I”

Annie blushed, smiled, and began : “ Well then—” but her
yoice faltered and failed, and she never completed the sentence;
but her companion seemed to be very much delighted with

' the two little Words she did speak, or something connected
with them, and when, an hour or two afterward, they turned
their steps homeward, a little ring sparkled upon one of An-
nie’s fingers, which had never been there before.

“ And now I must tell you, dear Annie, what you ought
to have known before—that the name which will be yours
by-and-by, is not Clark, but Norris. I—”

The look of surprise, consternation and bewilderment.
which flitted across the countenance he was regarding so ten-
derly and proudly, caused the speaker to pause abruptly.

“Why, Annie, dear Annie ! how pale you are! I had no
idea you could be so shocked. Let me hasten to explain.
"l‘was only my carelessness which caused me to allow such a
misunderstanding to continue. Squire Bolter has known from
our first acquaintance, that‘ Clark ’ was but one of my ‘ given ’
names; Charles Clark Norris is the whole name. Intk ed,

Annie, you look so strangely that I feel as though I had been
guilty Lof a serious offense—a grave misdemeanor—an un-
pardonable deception l”

“ I am surprised, of course," said Annie, and her face was
now aglow with color, while an expression of half-comical dis-
tress settled upon it for a. few moments; then a ringing laugh
hm forth, and Ike exclaimed—“ ‘ What’s in a name 1" Go

    
    

 

 

Qflm-_.—__.

 

 

  

 
 

  

 

“ml

0&9

 

 

 

 

 

 

A MEDLEY 01" CHARLES.

on, Mr. Charles Clark Norris, with your confession !" and an-
other merry laugh followed.

,“I am not confessing; only ‘stating the case;’ and your
mirtltt'ul tones reassure me wonderfully l Well, then,there were
three young men of us went from Thurston together. We
wore intimate friends, and all‘ Charlies.’ I was the only one
or‘ the trio who rejoiced in two appellations besides our sur-
names. We were Charlie Souther, Charlie Upton and Charlie
Clark Norris. after spending a year and aim” in California,
we, with ten others whose acquaintance we had formed, con-
cluded, for the sake of adventure, to come home across the
plains. Singularly enough there were two more Charlies in
the band, and, as we were all upon familiar- terms, there soon
grew to be a perfect medley of Charlies; so we three finally
agreed upon a plan to distinguish ourselves from the others.
The first was to respond only when spoken .to as ‘ Souther;’
the second declared he would be nothing else but ‘Peter,’ and
so we continued to call him (hiring the remainder of the jour-
ney. Fortunately, I had Something to fall back upon, and
suggested ‘ Clark ‘—‘ Norris’ not being eligible, as there were ,
two brothers in the company named Norse, and the two names
were pronounced so nearly alike, that it would have been but
little more distinctive than the first.

“The journey across the plains was harder work than we
expected to find it; we met with privations and toils that
were not down in our programme. We also had two or
three skirmishes with the Indians, and by the time we reached
this place, the surplus energy with which we started out was
quite exhausted. We made our camp and were determined to
rest, and recruit our strength, and, as our captain said, ‘ slick
up a little.’ By the time the rest of the company were ready
to go on I was attacked by a fever, and was obliged to accopt
Squire Bolter’s kind proposal that I should remain with him
until I recovered my health. He, hearing all of my com-
panions address me as ‘ Clark,’ supposed of course that it was
my fannily-name, and although I undeeeived him alter going
into his house, he never seemed to remember, and I have
beeu‘Mr.’ Clark ever since a kind fate ten me here to find
ml”

 

   

  

 
  

70' r ’ m mum; BRIDE.

“Clark” at last was really gone, and had been heard from,
as having safely arrived at his destination in the East A
letter to “ Miss Annie Hosmar" (luly announced that fact.

The winter sped rapidly, and Poke, who had learned the
way to Blufl‘town, was the bearer of numerous missives.
Those which went eastward always were signed simply “ Au-
Die.”

One day in the latter part of March, a letter came from Mrs.
Plyne—for Annie had written her soon after Christmas—which
urged her immediate return home if the weather was such as
would permit of comfortable traveling. “ Father and I will
meet you at St. Louis; the spring is unusually early, and the
boats are already running. We are at a. loss to know how
you will get so far as that alone, but hope you will be able to
find a. protector. Father would take the whole journey in
order to accompany you home, but his health is very feeble,
and he,is altogether unable to endure so much fatigue. I am
in hopes that the trip to St. Louis, and seeing you safely at
home again, may revive his spirits and help to restore his
health.” Such was the tenor of Mrs. Plyne's letter. Annie
felt grieved and remorsei‘ul as she thought of her stepfather’s
declining health.

“ I will write to them at once, and tell them that I will be-
gin my journey homeward as soon as I think they have had
time to receive my letter. They can then be in St. Louis in
advance of my arrival there. Poke seems homesick, and no

' doubt will be glad to return to Kentucky. He will be all the

‘ protector ’ I shall need.”

Thus mused Annie, as she sat at her south window, with the
recently-perused letter in her hand. Then her thoughts wan-
dered to another subject-she held up her littlehand to gaze upon
the sparkling gem which adorned it—smiled, and murmured:

_ “ Ilow surprised he will lie—how surprised they will all be!

and I have not told auntie yet, but I must, this verv day. I
must tall; with Poke, too, and ascertain if he desires to go
DaCK'to his old home.”

According to these resolutions, that same evening afier supper,
sealed in the shielding twilight, she took Mr. and Mrs. Hos-

« gum in“) her confidence, told of her “ engagement," and in- 'y
' ’. Quad them 1071» “ Mr. Clark" was.

  

 

    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

yo

em
For

UJ'

(hm

id
in
so
he

)er,
los-
in-

g reached to Poke, who expressed himself willing and anxious ,

WHAT IS TO BE WILL B

“ Wu], at that don’t beat all!” exclaimed Mrs. Hosmar.
“ To think of your eomin' away out here, to git red of his
father’s parsecutious on his account, an' now I wal, well
what is to be m‘llbe, an’ thar‘s no use fightin’ ag'in’ it l”

“That may be so, taehel; but it’s my opinion that if she’d
’a’ stayed at, home, an’ he’d ’a’ come thar, she‘d ’a’ hated him
like pizeu ! Ho, thar wa'n’t no harm done by her comin’ ’long
with us. I b‘lieve he‘s a first-rate teller, an’ uncommon smart.
too, an’ I’m glad everything-’5 turned out jest as it. has !”

“ I’m much obliged to you, uncle I-Iosmar, for your good
opinion of him; but what do you think he will say when he
finds my name is no more ‘ Hosmar’ than his was ‘ Clark ’ ‘2”

“Ha t ha ! turn about is fair play ! But, no one said
your name was llo<mar; they all took it for granted, I reckon,
tho’ we all called you Annie, an’ said nothin’ about the rest
of it t”

“ I shall start, for home in two or three weeks.
any ohjections to my taking Poke with me ‘3"

“Why, of he wants to go, you might as well take him, I
reckon. I allowed to have him help me farm this summer,
out of he gits homesick an’ stubborn, he wouldn't amount to
much nohow !”

“ Well, then, i will see him about it in the morning, and
you may mention and explain my going away to the Bolters.
I could never endure the questioning and ‘ wonderment.’ of
the good folks, to tell them myself. But, keep the rest of my
affairs unmentioned until after I am gone, if you please; then
you may tell them all about it." ‘ y

“ Ef you are a-goin’ away so soon, you’ll leave us right‘smart
in your debt. You paid us fur a year’s'board, you know,
any—n V

“Mr. IIosmar—aunt Rachel, unless you wish to oti‘end me
you will never mention that matter again. I have, ever since’
I can remember, received care and kindness which no money
could have bought, and none can repay. I shall always be
your debtor.” '

The next day the subject of returning to Kentucky was

Have you

I see the old home again. ‘

., “ Dar ain’t any colored folks here any what’s Iphnd, an' ‘

 

 

 
   

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

1

 

 

v r The morning fixed upon for her departure was as pleasant _
, . saitwas possible for a bright, spring morning to be.

' THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

.w’en you is gene, Miss Annie, dar won‘t be anybody (lot I
‘ has any feelin’s fur.

Massa Hosmar’s a mighty clever man,
an’ I t’inka heap of ’em all, but den dey isn’t our kind of
folks, you know !"

“ 0m- kind of folks,” was delivered with an air of import-
ance, as if the best blood of the land flowed in his veins,
and perhaps some of ‘it did! Annie smiled, and replied:
” I was in‘hopes that you would like the West. get yourself a
home and some land; but if you do not, it will be best for
you not to stay. I have a plan for you, however, which I
think you will like. You know the little place just out of
town, which old Mr. Brown lived upon for so many years?
Well, the old man is dead—Mrs. Plyne wrote to me about
it——and his wife has gone to live with one of her married
children. The cottage is empty; there are ten acres of land,
and I think- with that, and your trade, you can earn a good
deal of money. I will hire Melissy’s time for a year or two
and let her keep house for you; she is an excellent laundress
and can be of service to me, as well as earn a good many
dollars working for other families, and I think, with the
amount of money you already have laid up, you can, both
together, soon earn her freedom ! Eight hundred dollars
will buy her, I suppose, and that by close economy you both

y can save in'two years.”

, “ 01), Miss Annie! you‘re jest like yer blessed mother, an’
she was an angel 't'ore she went to heahcnl” cried the de-
lighted man, with tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh no, Poke. I never can be half what dear momma
was, but I will always do what I can for her old favorite i"
and Annie turned away to seek her own room, her own eyes
full of tears, as this mention of her dearly loved mother
brought her vividly to mind.

a In about two weeks from the time last mentioned, Annie‘s
preparations for leaving her western home were completed.
A light spring-wagon had been hired at Blutl‘town, and Mr.

»Hosmar was to accompany he to Council Bluffs, see her

safely en route to St. Joseph’s, where she expected to find a
boat for St.» Louis, and return the wagon to the proprietor

   

 

 

 
 

fl 0.
in

if!
e’s
ed.
tIr.
me!
i a
:or
ant

 

Goon-mt. ' ‘ 73

Squire Baker and his Wife, and Mary, «one over to see her
on", and to soy good-by.

“I tell ye what," said the squire, “ we hate tnost power-
ful had to see ye go ! We thought an awful sight of
Clill'li‘ but I don’t know but what you’ve cut him out, fur
neither Molly nur nie cried when he Went. ‘nway, an’ I
b’lieve Me’s n-cryin’ now, un’ I feel ez if IWus a-goin‘ to blub-
her!” ;

“I shall always remember my kind friends here on the
prairie; and I hope to see you all again sometime; so you
must not forget me. I have left a. few ‘keepsakes’ for you,
Molly, to ‘1'emeniber me by.‘ Auntie will give them to you
after I am gone.” .

“ It don’t seem to me one hit. 02 if you wus a great heiress,
un’ one of the ‘big-bugS’ I‘ve heerd so much about, you’ve
alters been so friendly and clever with us i” exclaimed Mrs.
Boker.

“ 1 am just what I an), rich or poor, Mrs. Baker; and I
prize a good, kind friend when I find one; but. Mr. Hosmar
is ready, I believe; so, good-by all—you lust, dour auntie!
I will write to you when I reach home. Good-by! Good
by i” i V

The wagon rolled away, and left a tearful group watching
it. The squire tool; out his yellow cotton-handkerchief and
blew a sounding hlust. ‘

“ Thnr’s no use n—talkin’, but that gal is one of a thousand,
an’ we won’t. never see another one like her l" He' sighed

deeply as he spoke.

 

 

  

h

74

THE 211mm 133mm

CHAPTER IX.
A snae, AND WHERE IS DE?

ANKPE HOWARD stood upon the deck of the river-boat
Hesperian, leaning upon the railing, and watching for those
pleasant bits of scenery which she every now and then glided
into along the shore.

The spring rains, and the melting of the mountain snows,
had swollen the Missouri into a. mighty flood, and she noticed
that, ever and anon, as the steamer swept along, it received
into its waves great slices of earth which often were covered
with a growth [of large trees, and other vegetation. Presently

,1 ‘ two or three ladies from the cabin came out upon the deck
and joined her in watching the river and the shore; soon after
‘ 'they did So the steamer’s whistle sounded a signal which or-
v , rested their attention and caused them to glance around, and
' from one side of the river to the other, in expectation of seeing
a town or at least a group of passengers on the bank waiting
to’he taken aboard.
'2? ‘ ' ‘ “ The boat is going to stop; but I can’t discover even the
J L" . vestige of a city, village, steamboat-landing or stray passenger i"
exclaimed one of the ladies.
iv " “Isee a big pile of wood just ahead,” said Annie; “they
 x ‘ are going to take on fuel.”
‘t . Just then the boat turned toward the shore, and as she
swung around there was a shock, a sudden confusion on the
I ' lower deck, a Babel of voices and sounds which caused the
' ‘3 terrified ladies to rush into the cabin in search of friends and
f‘ I. information.
o ' ‘ The boat, in rounding-to, had struck a snag with such force
‘ ' ns-nearlyto break her in two.

_ ‘ Fortunately there were but few passengers aboard, and by
i" ‘ the prompt measures and entire self-possession of the oflicers
of the Hesperian, all were safely landed on the shore, before
, ,Ihefilledf and sunk.

1 ,_ ' i v.“ Thank goodness, Miss Annie, you is safe. sure ’nufl‘. Cao’in

     

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

v‘ w‘ r

re
)6
id

by
are
we

- mogether into your own hands, ladies-«hey are here in the -‘

 

wnncxnn. ’ = 75
Wouldn’t. gib me no time tolonk ’round ; jess shufiied me inter
de boat head furs’ i” exclaimed Poke, as he made his way to
Annie, where she sat upon a log of" wood, in company Wm,
several companions in distress.

“ Yes, Poke, l‘m safe, so far, and I’m glad to see that you
are, too,” replied Annie, with rather a wan smile. _'

“ Dear me! isn’t this a dismal place !” sighed one of the 15;.
dies, diseonsolately.

“ Mr. Smith, come here, do i" called another to her husband,
who was assisting the oflicers to rescue some. baggage that had
been cast adrift front the wreck; “ what are we to do—sit on
this wood-pile all night, with a chance of being ‘dutnped ' into
the river before morning ?"

“Not quite so bad as that, wife! The captain says that
there is a, shanty about half a mile back in the woods, which
will furnish a tolerably comfortable shelter for you ladles, until
morning, when the Arrow will be coming down and will take
us on."

“ What an idea! we’d be afraid, alone in the woods; and
besides that, how are we to get there? My feet and clothes
are wet, and I have no bonnet or shawl. Oh, dear!” and the
poor woman began to cry.

“Afraid! why your brother Ben and myself and the cap-
tain and half a dozen more will escort you there, and see you ‘
safely established; then we will build a roaring fire near at
hand and camp around it, So that neither musltetouo, wild unit,
mals, nor wild Missourians will dare disturb you.” .

“ Indeed, ladies," said the captain, “ I don‘t_ know,of_ any
thing better to do. The Arrow won’t be down before ten
O'clock to-morrow. The cabin referred to belongs to some
men who have been chopping wood for our line, and they have
cleared out a very good road through the timber they say, so
that the walking will not be ditficult.”

“ “111, any thing by way of adventure,” cried Mrs. Smith,
beginning to recover her usual cheerfulness. "I hope the
gentlemen ot' the house will receive us with SCDUillc Western i
hospitality, and get up some entertainment worthy of the Oé‘

,

Casion t" ,

“ The ‘ gentlemen of the house' Propose to resign matter: _

 

 

.6;

 

 

  

78 m PRAIRIE BRIDE.
crowd somewheres new, and I think you would be quite
willing to dispense with their attentions it' you should chance
to see them ; they look like ‘hard cases,’ " replied the captain,
laughing.

At this moment a tall, roughly-dressed fellow crowded up
and peered over the shoulders of those nearest the group of
ladies. As he did so Annie glanced toward him, and instantly
recogniZed Mr. Hosmar’s old foe, Bill Lat-kins. She in-
voluntarily sprung to her feet with a little exclamation of sur-
prise, which at once attracted the fellow’s attention, and caused
him to send a. swift and startled glance throughout the crowd
as though to discover who might be with her; then, with an
air of unconcern, he sauntered away among the crowd until
he was convinced that she was unaccompanied by any of her
friends. Thus reassured, with an impudent swagger he ap-
proached her, and remarked in a low, sneering tone :

“ Seems to me you hev a peeoolier faculty fur gittin’ inter
se ‘apes, young woman.”

Annie (lid not reply, but motioned to Poke, who stood at a
littleldistauce, to come to her. As he approached, Larkins
surveyed him deliberately from head to foot, and then, placing
his great hand roughly upon P<>he‘s shoulder, resumed :

“ So this nigger belongs to you, does he, Miss Hosmar?
likely lookin’ fellcr, too.”

Poke shook off the hand indignantly, and Annie remarked
quietly: '

“ You would do well, Mr. Larkins, to leave me and my
‘ nigger’ to ourselves. I have no desire whatever to converse

A.

g with you.” '

“,Oh, wul, jest as you please ’bout that; thought mebbe
you’d be glad to see me. S’pose you’ll pay a visit to my cabin
tho’, an’ be glad of the chance ;” and he turned away with an
insulting laugh.

“"I wish you‘d reques’ me, Miss Annie, to knock dat low
live trash downy!” exclaimed Poke, fairly swelling with indig
nation.

- “No indeed, Poke. Keep altogether away from him, and

stay as near/me as you can until we are on the river

98m"- '
, "Itywas now almost sundown, and the gloom of evening

   

    
 

M.“

 
   
     
   
   
   
        

   
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   

Led

my
xrse

bbe
tbin
i an

low
ttlig

and
rive!

enin‘ *

THE 3111mm. ‘

was beginning to settle down upon the woods. Cl )uds were
gathering in the west, and a chilling wind swept across the
Water. The gentlemen who were to escort the ladies to
the shelter of the cabin, now urged haste, that all their
preparations for passing the night might be completed before
dark. , ._

When the party was about ready to start, him. Smith
Drouttlicd Annie, with her brother Ben, and said: 4

“ Miss Howard, this is my brother, Mr. Tisdale; he would
be Int-“Sell to act as your escort through the woods, or serve you
in any way you may desire." ' -

“ I am very much obliged to Mr. Tisdale, and to yourself,
too, Mrs. Smith. I was beginning to teel quite forlorn," re-
plied Annie, with a frank smile, and accepting at once the
offered arm. The whole party now set out upon their
walk, making merry of their mishaps and rather (loleful
plight.

When the cabin was reached, it was found to contain a
cooking-stove, a rotgh bent-h, table and bed, and was tolerably
clean. So with much merriment the party began their pre-
parations for passing the night there.

The captain announced that provisions enough had been
rescued from the wreck to furnish a. comfortable supper and
breakfast, and the cook, with the convenience of the cooking-
stove and tearkettle belonging to the establishment, would soon
have ready a refreshing cup 0‘ tea. '

Soon an immense fire was roaring out under the stars, and a
picturesque group surrounding it. The ladies, attracted by .
the cheerful gleams of the blazing heap, had deserted the
shanty, and were accommodated to seats upon a huge,‘

mossy log, which had been rolled up to the firelfur that pur-
pose.

an-

Song-singing, and a number of merry games, filled up the
hours of the wily evening, till Annie suddenly exclaimed :

“ I wonder where Poke is! Have you seen him this even.
lug, Mr. Tlsdale ‘t"

“ Not for an hour or two, I’m certain, Miss Howam
want him ?”

“ I want to know where he is. I charged him no: to 1'93"
me; I must find him at once." A t

D0 Ion

 

    
 

\

 
 
  

THE PRAIR1E BRIDE.

But, although Poke was called and searched for, he could
not, be found.

The cool; and one of the waiters belonging to the boat
having just come up from the river, were questioned,but they
,‘ . declared that they had seen nothing of him since he left the
landing with the rest of the party.

After an hour of waiting and anxiety, while a search was 
going on, Annie sat down upon the log before the fire to 
think. The gentlemen gathered around, one suggesting one, . i
_ thing and one another, when Mr. Smith exclaimed:

J i ” I'm willing to be! all creation that these rascally Missou-

,r rian wood~choppers have got hold of him i”

“I have been thinking of that, too,” said Annie. “ What
can he done 2‘” - ;

“ Pretty considerable of a loss—worth a thousand dollars
l ., ‘or more i" resumed Mr. Smith, indignantly.

“'Tis not that! y’tis not. that l"——began Annie, when a voice
. near her caused her to start'to her feet and look behind her.

 Just back of the log, in the shadow of a tree, Stood Bill Lar-
‘ kins, regarding her with a gratified grin. i 4

“ Lost yer nigger, hev ye, miss? Wal, thar’s ailers nigger-
 steulers round these steamboat landin’s; but, mebbe he went
 ofi' on his own hook—hey ?”

_: ,. , “ He may have done that, certainly; I had not. thought of

that probability—” began Mr. Smith. but Annie interrupted
him.

H ' “ No, indeed 1” she exclaimed, “ he has been foully dealt

 7 V with in ao‘me way, and I am perfectly sure that this man here
knows where he is I” But when they glanced again to where
Larkins had stood, he was gone; and although they searched ]
the woods pcrs’everingly, they saw him no more that night.

“ Why do you suspect this man so strongly, Miss Howart ?"
. inquired Mr. Tisdale, as the party gathered around the fire

again. ; ~
Annie then related what she knew of his character, and
told to an interested audience the story of the claim-fight and _
" r “ :the burnt cabin. When Squire Boker’s name was mentioned
" " Mr. Tisdale exclaimed: , ,
~ -“‘,I am well acquainted with the squire—I was one of I;
' My“ retumeq'Califomians who (amped near his house fol;

       
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
    
 
 
  

m

 

    
       
   
         
   
     

I / . i r . i

  

 
 

 
 
  
   
  

 

ONCE only A TIME—-

several weeks. We thought. him quite a ‘chnmcter,’ and
liked him heartily."

“ Yes, I have often heard him tell the story. He had one
of your number still with him when we went there," said
Annie.

“ What! Charlie Norris Still i" ll“? WCSC? \Vliut in the
wmi'tl— Well, to hear that you know Charlie and the squire
makes me feel as though yon. 100, “We 4m old acquaintance.
anti nit-“(L Ami so this Lat-kins is the Scoundrel who took
possession of your uncle’s land? Well, I begin to think that
he has captured that poor fellow, and means to make a spec-
ulntioii out of him.” _ ’

“ I feel certain of it,” answered Amine.
done ‘2"

“I hardly know. This is the very placeof all others for
we DWIMWHW of such a dead. The captain has gone down
to the river to make inquiries, and it, When he comes back,
nothing has been ascertained about him, we will ‘ hold a con,
sulmliml’, as the doctors say, and see what is best to be done. .
anwmlu we will replenish thel l’ll'f.”llntl some one shall tell

' — - w - time seem s tor. I
n it‘lfigé)iglftlpllt‘al suggestion, Ben," exclaimed Mrs. Sniith,
“ and YOU are the very one to tell in”. l I

H 1 I" exclaimed ’l‘isdalv, with an air of etinstei'iiution.

u Yes, you 1 you 2" resoundcd lrom all‘jides. ,

“If I had known what my suggestion would lead to,I .
should not have 111“th ll 1" ' . ‘ . .,,

" Yes, but you have made it. 50 Deg”), one,“ “13011 a “me. .
remarked one of the ladies. I , .

h we“, the“; ‘ Once upon a time, when I was young and
‘ n i ) —_-YI
lmtll‘jfylgnifii ages ago,“ whispered Mrs. Smith, in a loud
“ aside ” to Annie. I .

“ —Wlien I was young and mexlmneucc‘li” “130:1th Mr
Tisdale, “ I started out to sect; my fortune. It was genera“),
supposed in those days that tortuiics were to he found ready.
nindc in California; theretin'e I tlit'ttctlflly ct'tetltilous steps that
Way. My expectations and utittcnmllmls were all vcouleur d4.
flue. and when I found myself upoulllq golden shores, I 139.
N at once Loilook around for ‘mlggelS-' 1" I Clluncgd to

“ What can be

  

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

   

strike my foot against a. stone, I was sure to look down to see
if any thing of importance had turned up.

“ But, before very long, that kind of feeling wore off, and
[joined a‘ Company of five men, who were fitting out for a ‘
newly-discovered diggings. i
, “They were a rough set of men, but seemed honest and it
good-natured, and I expected to be greatly benefited by their 1
larger experience in the business, which was to be set otf ,
against the pleasure they would receive from my society!

“ We agreed among ourselves that as long as we Worked
together we would ‘ share and share alike,’ and at the close
of each day’s operations, would divide the gain equally among
‘ 113.;

' “ After we arrived at the diggings and began work, I seemed
to be specially favored with good ‘ luck.‘ Scarcely a day but _,
something unusual came in my way, so that when we came i,

together to count our gains and divide them, I 'as almost
certain to have something above the average to show. For
a time the men seemed pleased, and called me their ‘lucky
partner,’ and appeared to think themselves fortunate in hav-
‘ing such a clever fellow among their number; but after a.

       
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 

V. while they began to display feelings of jealousy and dislike 
.'~ toward me, and seemed to suspect that I was secreting a part f
A I ' of my gains, and did not throw into the common stock all i
,_ W that I found. This made me indignant, and I determined to “
 . leave them and strike out for myself.
_ vw' H “ Ithad noticed, not more than half a mile from our camp, I
-a little rocky ravine, thro’ugh which a tiny brook trickled, C,
'Whiqh I knew must, at some seasons of the year, swell into 1e;
~ a considerable torrent. It struck me that, amid the crevices CO
 ' of the rocks over which the stream dashed when swollen, “u
there might be deposits worth looking for. So, after a formal ‘
 ‘ dissolving ofpartnership,’1 Started 011‘ with my ‘ pick’ upon 8m
 myshbuider," and my knapsack of provisions on my back, an
' and takings course caieulated to mislead my whilcm part- to
‘ ners if they shouldfibe disposed to \\‘:licll!n10,1 eventually D0,
made'my way to the place. , I wn
“'Theyfl'y firstIday—f-tnark how fortune favors the brave— ; x' 7,
ilgfiitmd’amid the sand and débn‘s which filled a fissure in the,"T a

   

 

   
  

 a, number of shining particles, which elated me to '

u-

U._rr\..

 

ROBBING \A MINER.

such a degree that I performed untellable wonders in the way
of reading rocks asunder, and getting at places ’that seemed
lmlccussiplc. To be hriet', I found so much of the precious
stnti' that I determined to make a permanent camp in a sort.

' of hidden nook which I had discovered further up the ravine,

lay in a stock of provisions, and go to work in earnest.

" In about a week I was fully established, and had gold
enough to make me think I was almost rich. But one night
[ awakened suddenly from deep sleep, with a feeling of (lan-
ger which I could not shake otf. The night was dark» and
the depth of the ravine made it profoundly so, and I strained
my eyes in vain to pierce the. darkness.

“ For it lljw “laments I 1113' perfectly Silll, until I was cer-
tain that I heard whispering voices and stealthy feet. ‘ Then
I rose as silently as possible, and grasping my revolver, waited
to see what was to happen. Presently a sudden stream of~
light was thrown forward into the nook where I stood, and
revealed my position to the intruders, while, at the same time,
I caught a glimpse of them. There were two or three men,
I am not certain which, for as soon as they saw me the light
vas extinguished and three or four shots were fired in my .
direction. I fired in return, and then instantly changed my
Position ; another volley ammo, and a ball struck my revolver
from my hand. I sprung forward to recover it, and while I
Was groping around for it, I received a blow upon my head
which rendered me senseless.

“ What immediately followed I of course do not ‘know, but
I do know that the scoundrels bound me hand and foot—(115“ ,
Covered my hoarded treasure and carried it. away with themv
leaviuvar me, in the fond expectation. I suppose, tlmtdt’ I re-
covered l‘rom the blow upon my head, I would permit with
hunger and thirst. _ ‘ . i

“ When I recovered consciousness, it was early morning; my
Senses were so confused, and my brain, so dizzy that ’tWas
an hour or two before I could collect strength enough to try,
to loosen my bonds, and when I did try. I found myself
powerless_ I struggled and fumed until completely exhausted,
when I fell into a sort of stupor which, mus: have ended in

..’ Yer and delirium.

“When I again opened my eyes to the realities of life, I

 

 

   
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

  

THE PRATRXE BRIDE.

found myself lying in a small tent, upon a comfortable bed of ’

, driedgrass and blankets, and bending over me was akind, com- ‘

\ ’ ‘1 passionate face, with tender blue eyes, and a little brown hand

was bathing my head with cold water. I closed my eyes again

with a vague feeling of uncertainty as to my own identity, and

when I opened them once more, another face—that of an old

man with white hair and a pleasant countenance was bending
beside the first.

“‘It took me some time to ‘take in and comprehend my
condition and surroundings, but when I did so, I found that
the tender, blue~eyed face belonged to a youth apparently
about sixteen years old who answered to the name of ‘ Jamie,’
and addressed the elderly person as ‘ father.’ ’

X “The old man told me presently that, while passing near j

x the ravine about sundown the evening before on his way home

' from a ‘ station ’ where he had been to procure provisions, he
beards. groan as of some one in distress, and after a. little

/ search had found me, and with the aid of his mule had suc- l
ceeded in getting me to his tent, about three miles further on;
and that since, he and Jamie had done all that their limited
resources would allow them to do, for my comfort and re-
covery.

“ There was something peculiarly fascinating and attractive
about Jamie. His brown hair curled in close, soft rings all
over his head, and although his face was very brown, ’twas re-
fined and pretty—yes, pretty! There was nothing masculine

, about it except the faint, flush of an incipient mustache;
he wore a frock of common blue cotton stuti‘, gathered in at
the waist by a black leather belt, and reaching about half-way

“to his knees; his father wore one of the same kind, and each
belt held a revolver.

“ Lying there, part of the time dozing stupidly, part of the
time acutely conscious of every tone and motion, it was not

, . two days before I was fully persuaded in my own mind, that
3 ’ I ' any young friend was a girl.

“ And, to cut my story short, I found that my surmise was
correct; that Jamie was, aforetime, Jennie; that she was her
Ifitther‘s only child; that she had lost her mother years before;

_ that when her father had determined to seek his fortunes in
(fflmjfttmedland of goldI she made up her mind to accompany

__., -.t-...., m, a".

 

 

l A LITTLE WITCH. “

him, and would not be dissuaded, and to avoid remark and an-
noyance in that womanless land, had adopted the imasculine.
costume; that the mustache Was burnt cork; that they
had been tolerably successful and were soon going back to the
St:ites—:mtl—aiitl——-”

“And that,” said Mrs. Smith, maliciously taking up the
theme at this interesting point, “Jennie was a. per-feet little '
t witch—and that her father, after leaving California, bought up
ever so many sections of land in Iowa, and has founded at,
young city—and brother Ben has been out to locate—and has
DOI‘SLiltlL‘d Mr. Smith and myself that ’tis to our interest. to
settle out West l()O—-AND there is to he a wedding the first. of.
June it' nothing ‘huppeus to hinder.’ ” ‘ ,

Another halt-hour passed bet'ore the captain made his‘ ap-
pearunee.

Poke had not been seen by any one at the landing Since
, Ht: left it, in company with his mistress; “ and," added the cup-
t tain, “ I am sorry to say that there is more bad news to tell.
L t We will have to break camp here and get back to the bluffs

.-.,._<., -. _.. 7 A

 

 

immediately. The river is rising like all possessed, and there‘s
no telling where it will be by morning.” ‘
“ ’l‘hundet'ntion !" exclaimed Mr. Smith ; and “ Oh, dear!" v.
Cried all the ladies. I ,l V
“How can the river be rising ?" asked Annie; “there has
- been no rain recently." .
3 “ The melting of the snows in the mountains, madam; the
: Weather has been unusually warm for this season of the year;
t and there has been heavy rains in the back countryltoo‘J
V “link. and so we are likely to have our ‘June freshet’ in.
I April.” ‘ \ ~ ~
“ Considerable baggage was taken off the' boat, was .thcre‘
‘3 “OI, captain ‘3" asked Tisdale. I‘ , y
W “ Yes; the men are bringing 'up every thing portable that ‘
.t they can carry through the woods. They have pressed the '
wood-choppers team and lumber-wagon into servree, and what
is can not be brought away'now will be swallowed up by the
3' ‘ big Inuddy' before morning.”
=3 “Pray let us get away before We are swallowed up too 1"
in exclaimed Mrs. Smith, excitedly.
|! ~ “ How far will we be obliged to go ?" ask“; Tim“. .
'K
’1“ .I. «13‘

 

  

84 v ' ~ THE PRAIRIE 131mm

  
 
   
  
 
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  

“ About half a mile. There is a little town called Jackson-
ville, just beyond this bottom-land.”
p y “ ‘ ’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody good,’ ” remarked Mr.
Tisdale to Annie, as he offered her his arm for the walk to
' Jacksonville. “ This delay will give us time and opportunity
to search for your missing man.”

1' , CHAPTER X.
“ m ROMANCE 0F SETTLEMENT LIFE.

EVERY little town has its “hotel,” and the Stranger's Home.
of Jacksonville, was a fair sample of its class. It was dirty,
ill-kept, tumble-clown, and dismal in every respect; anti when,
in addition to the fatigue, excitement and anxiety of the pre—

' vious night, Annie found herself, after a few hours of restless
sleep, standing alone, gazing through the dim and smoky
windows of the sitting-room, upon floods of driving, whirling

I 'rain which drenched and heat upon the few scattered and di-
 lapidated houses that compriset “ Jacksonville,” she felt her
spirits sinking in unwouted depression.
 But presently the cheerful voice of the lively Mrs. Smith,
and the entrance of seve‘al of the party, who had but just
emerged from their respective apartments, roused her from the
despondency into which she had fallen.

“ Good-morning, Miss Howard. You are admiring the pros-
,Npect, I suppose," was Mr. Tisdale‘s salu'tation as he entered the
'room. f

“To tell the truth, Mr. Tisdale, I was indulging in some
rather unpleasant reflections I" responded Annie.
“ Well l” exclaimed Mrs. Smith, “I felt so dremlfully ‘ hlue ‘
this morning that I couldn‘t endure it at all. So I quarreled
_ with Mr. Smith, scolded Ben, and uphraided the captain tor
' Our misfortune, and now Ireally feel much better.”
f- Annie laughed, and Tisdale remarked in an aside to her:
' “'If' 'twould afford you any relief to have some one to scold.
hijathwlawith‘, .I’m at your service." ‘

   
 

 

 

"n-MA...’

 

A SECOND DnLuaE. ‘ , 8‘

" Thank you," answered Annie, “ but I will-try to be con-
tent with abusing the weather. I never before saw it rain as
it does this morning."

“ It has been raining just so for hours; our last. night’s
camp is under water below this time."

“ And we can’t get away from this abominable place while
ll continues—that’s the worst of ii, i" grumbled 311'. Smith.

“ Have you made any inquiries yet concerning Mr.Larkins
01‘ Poke I” asked Annie.

“ Yes,I have found out that this Larkins lives three or four
miles further hack in the eountr ', and that the man who has
been helping him chop wood for the boats is n'brother-ianW
«ml lives with him. They are considered decidedly ‘ hard
vast-s} The landlord says that they have only been engaged
in the woods here for a {cw weeks. and have been strongly
suspected of horse -stealing and other nefarious business.
'Twould be an easy matter to get up a party to hunt for him,
and rescue the man, it‘ he is in his hands, if it. were not. for
1his storm.”

“I think there is every prospect of a second deluge,” re-
marked Mr. Smith, discontentedly.

V

AW]. indeed, as the day advanced, the» storm grew mally- \

“Trifle. Peal after l‘rclll of thunder crashed through the air,
find the lightniugs flushed with an intensity eetuztllyappall'
“1%. While tloods of water dashed down upon the earth, tmd
were whirled about by the wind, which roared and shrieked
and howled as though a demon himself was battling with the
other elements. I

. Thus the storm raged all through that day and
needing night, but on the morning ot‘ the second flay, 1”} 1”“
Ulottded sun, a mint blue sky, and a soft: spring Wind "c’gllc‘l
Over the earth once more.

The travelers ‘,.c,.c*e,,ge,- to he again upon their way, but
“10 Captain, the landlord. and the other authorities declared
that the sit-cams between Jacksonville and the next town
where there was a good landing for boats, would he swollen
and ht'itlgeless, and utterly impassable for another day ut‘lgast;
5'”. with much discontent. they sought to rCSigu themselves [0
Hair lute. ~ '

35‘1"!!! an hour after breakfast, while ,u,

the suc-

 

pngtrhendedly ' t

 

   

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

Tisdale and the landlord were about ready to start upon their
VI 4 expedition to the suspected squattcr’s cabin, an excited crowd
of’ men (and boys were seen hurrying down the street, and the

. c'auseof the commotion soon appeared. As some of the village

I ‘ ‘ boys were paddling about in an old canoe, on the riVer-bottom,
-> I that: morning, they had discovered, entangled among some
bushesand low trees in the water, the body of a man, whether
white or black they'had not stayed to see, but, terrified half
out of their senses, had hastened back to the village, and re-
ported whut they had seen. ‘

was Poke, and thought it best to relate the circumstance of

the finding of the‘body, and his conjectures on the subject, to

Annie, without delay. He accordingly returned to the house,

and communicated what he had heard to the ladies in the

sitting-room, who had been watching the crowd in the street
with great curiosity. To Annie he said: ‘

I .“ It may be that Poke, in strolling into the woods that night,
became bewildered and lost in the darkness, and was overtaken
by the overflowing wateis, and drowned. I hope not, indeed,
and I will goat once and see for myself, and report as soon
as possible." And the. young man hastened away and joined
the crowd which was hurrying tin-ward toward the point of
interest. ‘ ‘ . r- '

L Annie felt that there was, iLdeed, a probability that Pokc’s
disappearance might thus be accounted for, and she reproaehed

, herself bitterly for having been instrumental in bringing him

, into danger. Tears filled her eyes, too, when she remem

. bered how devoted and faithful he had always been to her

.self, and with What affection her mother had regarded him——

1- v remembering and providing for his welfare in her dying
hours. I

'SlOle the moments passed; she wished, yet dreaded, to
hear tidings :,’ and thus, with a sad heart, she sat at a window
watching the deserted street. (

A cloud seemed to rest upon the spirits of all, for there is

’ that in a sttdden or mysterious death which impresses the soul

‘ with awe and dread;

_ ‘ Two ’or three hours" passed before the villagers returned,
 > they came carrying in their midst a. rude bier, upon

 

Tisdale concluded, almost instantly, that the drowned man

 
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
   

/

 

G

to

O

'U-FJ—‘Ff'

a...

"fiD_

 

 

A TRACE ,3 THE LOST ONE. .
Which lay '4 human form. Annie shuddeer and turned away
from the window, hufin‘c the crowd reached the street; but
in another moment Mr. Tisdnle entered the room, and ap-
proaching her, said: ,

“ Our reins in this euse, Miss Howard, were unfounded.
The body found is not that of your servant but of his'sup. '
posed uhductor i” x

“The unhappy \rreteh i” cried Annie, horrified at such a
terminntion of so evil it me. Then for a moment her coun-
tenance lighted up, and she gave a sigh of relief. '

“ But,” continued Mr. Tisdale, “there is reason to fear that
Poke has met with a similur fate. There is no doubt but that
Lnrkins had him in hiding, in the w00ds near the river. In
fact, I am quite certain of it. Do you know this handker-
Chief ‘3” , a

“ Certainly, I do i” cried Annie, taking the large silk hand-
kerchiet‘ which Tisdnle offered for her inspection. “I gave
“118 10 Poke, and embroidered this little device on the white
Border myself i”

“ Well, I found it tied around the dead man‘s throat, and
f‘cmemhered it at once. Poke was very fond of displaying
“i and I had noticed it several times in his possession, and
:flughed at the poor fellow’s evident desire to exhibit its been-

les.”

“ And you think—” hogan Annie, in n. questioning tone.

“ I think,” resumed Tisdnle, “ that Larkins was hiding in >
the Woods, and had Poke secreted near the," river, expecting 3
to run him off into the interior of the State after we were om
or UK: way, and that he either left him to' his.an when he
fOund himself in peril, or that, in attempting to,tulee him out,
“H‘y both blnndered into the slough near which this body was
Found, and while the bushes caught and held this one, the
Other might have sunk out of sight or floated away.”

“ Oh,  I only knew i" cried Annie. ‘f There is a possi.
hility that he escaped; uncertainty is sohurd to bear 1” t

u We“, I have engaged hztlf n‘dozen young fellows Loex.
plow the river—bottom, and they are peddling nhoutgnowtin
every direction. I do not knOW 0f any thing else that I( can

d0 in the matter, excepting ‘0 g0 0‘“ {9 Where’ this men’s funk
fly lives, and that I will do this afternoon. I hove" engaged a

 

 

     

THE PRAIRIE mums.

 M 7 horse for that purpose, and our landlord will accompany me,
' V to carry the tidings of misfortune."

The body of the dead squatter was deposited in the bar-
roonl of the Stranger’s Home, and an idle crowd lingered
about to discuss the matter, and regale themselves with gos-

. sip and whisky.
(7,1 , Seldom was their little village distinguished by such a suc-
i‘} . cession of remarkable events. There had been, within forty
' ' hours, the wrecking of the steamboat; the arrival of an un-
' precedented number of guests at the “hotel ” ; an extraordi-
nary storm, and the finding of a drowned man! ‘
‘ But, they were,destined to still another sensation, for, a
1 little after noon, a rumor of the most exciting character flew
through the village, and diverted the attention of all from the
discussion of the late accident, and directed it into quite an-
other channel.
-The boys employed by Mr. Tisdale to explore the woods, v
had returned to town in great haste and trepidation, reporting
V . that they had seen an enormous black bear in a tree about
” . halfway-between the bluffs and the river !
‘ Great was the hilarity which now prevailed. A. bear-hunt
r r was becoming a rarity in those parts. and was just the thing
_ , . to finish up appropriately an idle day, and dispel the melan-
 ’ choly feelings engendered by the morning’s discovery.
‘U ‘ . Guns were hastily hunted up, and the little grocery-keeper
A on the comer was nearly overwhelmed with demands for pow-
 ‘ dim and lead. ‘Half-a-dozen small rafts were speedily con-
, structed and,“ manned," while numbers of advonttn'ous spirits
.  started forth, each upon a single board. and with a pole in
hand to Steer with.
:1“ If the old feller-takes to the water we'll see fun ; he’d play
hob with these rafts,” .cried one of the men, jocosely.
, I »f‘ We'll play thob with him if we once git a. good sight- on
1-,? ‘ him," replied another.
. , “ ’l‘he t‘eller that brings him down gits the hide t" exclaimed
I. thirdH , ,
t And-“thus. amid much excitement and hilarity, the hunt-
 ‘cis.gotrntartetl,g-nntl began to work their way among the trees
lav-the- direction pointettout to them by the boys who had dig

   
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

homered the animal. , ‘

  

 

 

  

 

A BEAR-HUNT. , at)

As they advanced further into the woods they grew more
lilent, not wishing to alarm the bear and glve- him achance to
escape. Seine ot' the men kept alookout, while others steered
the way amongthc “hes, Alter proceeding thus for half-a-
mile, one Of the men announced that he saw the animal 1n"a
1”ng tree at a considerable distance further toward the south-
west than their present course would lead to. The fleet. im-

'mediatelv came to a stop, while all eagerly peered through the

swaying tree-tops which intercepted the VleW.. I

A half-suppressed shout rose, as, far up annd the branches
01' an immense cottonwood, the object of the hunt was seen.
Guns were cocked, and the party again moved forvvard, every
man not engaged in managing the rafts keeping his eye fixed
‘gaze in the. direction indicated, while a plan of at-
tack was discussed in vehement though subdued tones,

“ I'll be dogng it‘ I don‘t think this is goin’ to be ruther a
tickliin business,” remarked one tall t'ellqw,look1ng very much
as though he wished himself somewhere else, “’cause if the
varmint takes to the water and gits in among us, thar’ll be some ,
on us upset, that’s certain I" ‘ I I

“ If you‘re afecrcd you kin take this canoe and paddle back
home; but it‘ you do, don’t expect to be invited to the
barbecue to-night!” exclaimed a young man, in a, sarcastic
tone. » , /

“ Who’s a-talkin’ about backin’ out ‘2" retorteg] the first
speaker, angrily; ” niibbe you’ll be the first one to hit}: duck-
in' yerself.” _ .

“ If I am, I kin stand it," was the scornful reply. 1

” NOW. boys» Shut “P yer quarrelin‘, en’- wntch out. fur- the
game. Hure‘s the slough, an’ we kin hev a, I clearer look-put,

In an eager

and easier paddling !” _ ‘
A few moments after one of the men remarked :—
“ Well, if I ain’t awfully mistaken, that thing over thar
ain’t no hear." ‘
“ What is it?” cried half a dozen voice;
" Looks more like a man, to me.” ’
“I‘ll be durned if it ain’t.” I ’ _‘
“ What in thunder‘s the matter ‘2" called out some we m
the rear. ' ‘ ~ ‘7
“ Why, our bear has turned into a man!”

r
f

 

' THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

\

   
 

“ Move on—move on, and let us see.“
And, as the party approached nearer, they plainly, saw
the figure of a. man crouching among the branches high over-
 head.

“ It’s a nigger. Some cussed runax'ay, as like as not. Mel)-
bc ’twon'ft be such a bad haul, after all t" cried the foremost
man;

“I expect it’s the one that young gent at the tavern was in-

": ,. quirin’ about,” answered another.

,“ That’s-the kink. Let’s make him fork over handsome fer
finding him,” said the faint-hearted fellow who thought bear-
hunting ticklish business.

“Shove up, boys. If he's been treed here ever sence the
water riz, he must be purty nigh tuckered out.”

'It was, indeed, poor Poke, so exhausted and bewildered by
terror, fasting and exposure, that it was with much difficulty
that the men succeeded in getting him down from his lofty
perch. His limbs were so cramped and stiffened by the con-

strained position in which he had remained for such a length
of time, that they were almost useless.
, He seemed to regard every one around him as a foe, and
, L ' could not be made to answer one of the questions addressed
‘ tohim. ' . /
“I reckon he’s clear gin out. I-Iain’t none of ye got a.
. bottle of whisky along, 50’s to give him a. leetle ‘t” remarked

 ,y . .  one of the men.

Half a dozen flasks were instantly produced, and Poke

.‘ A urged to drink; but he seemed deaf, dumb, and blind, until
4 Z;  [finally a. few drops were literally poured into his mouth.
 Y The expedition then prepared to return to Jacksonville,
' and it must be acknowledged that it presented rather a crest.-
'fallen appearance, as it neared the bluffs and ‘met the ex-
. pectant crowd anxiously awaiting them to view the trophy of
. I the hunt. I \v
-, Poke, who either could not or would not help himself in
the least,'was lifted into an old cart near at. hand, which the
boys of the crowd pushed and pulled along until they reached
the, Stmnger’s-Home. He was then carried into the house,
  Vlaldrupon the bar-room lounge, and a messenger was dis-

' -; patched—tether parlor to say that a darky had been found in

g .,

 

 

   
  
 
 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

a.
f,

 

 

Poxts’s ADVENTURE. 91
the woods, and requesting the travelers to come and see if he
was the mun missing from their company. Those interested
hastened into the bar-room, and Annie eagerly advanced toward
the lounge. I

“ It. is lie—poor fellow! Where did you find him ?”

Poke, who had lain motionless and with closed eyes ever
since he had been brought in, now started up into a sitting
position, and cried, with a tremblingr voice: t

“ls dat gull, Miss Annie l" and instantly fell back in a
swoon.

)Sestot‘atiws were given, and some nourishing food pre-
pared and :tdtnitnstered in small quantities, until the fam-
ished and exhausted creature recovered strength enough to
relate the story of his misfortunes, which was substantially as
follows:

"eeling sleepy and tired on the evening of the disaster on
the riVer, he had, while the party were all gathered around the
camp-lire, seated himself in the doorway of the cabin, and
fallen asleep.

He was awakened by being raised to his feet, and found
himself with his hands tied behind him, and a large handker-
chiet' drawn tightly over his mouth. / Lurkins stood by'hinl,~ ,
grasping his arm with one powerful hand, while he displayed
a pistol with the other; and as soon as Poke was sufliciently
awake to comprehend his situation, he whispered into his ear:

" Now march right straight along with me, without attempt--
in’ to make any noise whatever. Do as yer told, or I’ll put
halt‘ a dozen bullets through yer thick skull afore yeakin'
wink !" ' ' ~

Thus he forced him through the woods for half a mile, per-
haps, when he stopped and tied his captive securely 'to a tree,
and there left him to himself for an hour or two, nearlyt frantic
with despair and terror. ‘ i.

It was at this time, doubtless, that Lat'kins hud shown him-
self at the camp, though for what purposedoes‘not clearly np«
Pei"- ’ " ’ ' 2]

He then returned to his prisoner, and took him somfigtfil‘
tance further into the woods, and again tied him to'faifree,
Mound which grew it tangle of brush and “'eeds,wljil3h formed V
I very good V hiding-place, and, utter fastening him-'60 securely] I L

7

     

 
  
 

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

‘ that ’twould be an impossibility for him to free himself, hcleh

J t. ” him, saying that after the boat passed down the river in the

' ' ’ morning, and his mistress and friends were out of the way, he
would return and take him on further.

The air was chilly‘ and damp, and in the after part of the
night it began to rain. Before morning the storm was raging
furiously, and poor Poke found the water rising around him ‘
until it: reached his knees. In vain were all his frantic efforts
to release ltitiiselfi-nnd he at length gave himself up as utterly
lost, when he found himself roughly grasped, and his bonds
hastily unfastened by his abductor, who ordered him to in-

‘stantly climb into a tree.

“ I was awfully'nfraid that you'd be it gone-up nigger before

I could git to ye! It got so internally dark ’long toward morn-

, ing that. I couldn‘t venture a step, and I like to never have got

_, there. Git yerselt‘ up thar; we’ll hev to roost here till this
3 - rain’s over, and don’t yc attempt to come down till I give the
‘ ‘ word. Thar ain’t no sort of a chance of your gittin’ away
from me. If ye feel like tryin’ it, jist remember that

.‘ I’m close by, a-wntchiugr ye with this little weapon handy!
Thur'll be a. feller along after a while with a boat, an'
we’ll take a nice little ride 2111’ visit some portic'lar friends of
mine up the river l"

'Poke climbed into the tree in which he was finally discov-
‘ cred, and Larkins into another near by.

Whenvthe terrific storm of lightning, wind and rain came
on, it, was almost impossible to keep himself from being torn
from his position and dashed down into the water beneath

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

t )

5 him.‘

3, During a lull ,in the storm, Larkins shouted across to
y ' him : .

" E, “ The devil’s gote'Very one of them folks that camped down

by the river lust night! Ye could swim a steamboat now
, ' what that shanty stood l”
_ ‘ Poor Pokewas only 'too certain that the last assertion
4‘ , might;be true, and what little hope and courage there was
< left. in him gaye w‘ay, leaving only a sense of the deepest de-
spgir. *

 

   

A few‘ moments a'i'ter this, a blinding flash of lightning
jto,_shut. his eyes in dread, and a crash of thunder

/

  

 

 

 

 

  

 

    
 

THE AVENGING BOLT.

seemed to shake the whole earth; and when he again opened
his eyes and looked around, he saw that the tree in which
Larkins had stationed himself was shirered into splinters, and
that the miserable man who but just before had spoken to
him, was tloating in the water at some distance away!

Pol-2e Could not remember with any distinctness how the
time intervening between that awful event, and his rescue by
the hear-hunters, passed. He lost all sensation of hunger and
thi'st, and felt altogether inditl‘erent to his own safety. He.
thought that “ Miss Annie ” was drowned, and when he heard
her Voice after being taken to the village tavern, he was so
surprised and delighted that, in his weak and exhausted state,
he fell into a swoon.

When young ’l‘isdale and the landlord returned from their.
expedition into the hack country, they had also a tale of hor- '
for to tell. '

Upon reaching the suspected squattcr‘s cabin, they found
it unrool'ed and nearly demolished by the storm,whilc within,
among the ruins, lay, uuwatched and unguarded,‘the bruised I
and soulless hotly of the squatter’s wife! ,

The same avenging holt may have ended both their wretched
lives. The brother-in-law and partner was nowhere to be
fouml, and was never again seen in that vicinity. Perhaps
the waters of the mighty Missouri held the secret of his dis-
appearance.

“ This has been a day of horrors l I hope to-tnorrow may
see us on our way—I shall never want to think of this place_.
again i" exclaimed Mr. ’l‘isdale, as the whole party of travelers
were gathered in the parlor in the evening. 1 ‘

“Ishan’t get over it for six months, I know I“ remarked
his sister, dolet'ully. ‘ I I '

" I have engaged conveyances to take us all over'to Long-
port in the morning, and 'twill he the day for the Queen of
the West to he down. I prophesy that we’ll all take tea in
St. Louis to-morrow evening 1" . I ‘ I

" So mole it be i” cried Mr. Smith, energetically. 3  .. .

 

 
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   

 

The next morning proved a delightful one; nothing;an
pened to hinder the impatient traveters, but, after- ;a__pleasam
and exhilarating ride over the prairie, they readied Longport i‘

 

   

 

 
 

   

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

 
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
    
   
 
    
   
 
 
   
   
   
   
     
 

an hour ahead of the “ Queen‘s” time, so that Mrs. Smith
was enabled to procure a new bonnet, and the other ladies
of the party to repair, somewhat, the damage sustained by
their traveling costumes.

1 On' the evening of the same day they reached, without:
further mishap, the city of SLvLouis, and Annie was received
into the couciliating embraces of her anxious and expectant
14 5 ' friends who were to meet her there.

.‘CHAPTER XI.
I'r Is WELL!

“ How glad 'I am that you are at home again, Annie.
Father seems cheered up wonderfully, though he is very
feeble; don‘t you think so ?"

“He does seem to have failed in health very much since
last fall. Has your brother been to see him ?"

' Mrs. Plyne was surprised that Annie should mention what
' she supposed must be a “disagreeable subject” to her, but she
hastily replied : '
I g “,No, not yet. He has been in California for some timeI
’and only re’turned km the States a few weeks ago. I had a

letter from himjust after his arrival in 'l‘hurston—the first.
*one we have received for months. It contained important,
news too—he is to be married some time this summer, he
I says, so, if he should make us a visit you need not fear any
j x.‘ further persecutions’ on his account !”

W,“ I am glad to hear it I” said Annie, looking down steadily ‘
at the little ring upon her Linger, and twirling it around with
energy; “ and I think, that, under the circumstaneesdt would
be well to write and urge him to make his father a visit ; his

1

 

 

 

«v

 

" ; I: 1‘ coming might have a beneficial effect upon papa’s health and
‘ ‘ spirits.” . ' '

I _ p I ’Twns very Seldom that Annie had called Mr. Norris “ papa,"

 butfite' hubit' of doing so seemed to be growing upon her;

1 . mvsiuce her return from the West she displayed more respect

'jnd-afi‘eotion for him, than ever before.
‘\, t H, w"

    
 

Tim DENOUEMEN’X‘. . ' I ‘95' ’-

,A day or two after this conversation, Mr. Norris was at.
- tucked by a serious illness, and for a day or two his life was
b despaired of. Mrs. Plyne wrote to her brother, telling him of

y his father’s dangerous eondition, and begging‘him to come to;
them without delay. But, the Violence of the attack subsided

it!)

ludt upon the morning of the third day, and the physician pro»-
e . . . .

‘ trounced his patient likely to recover. Good nursmg‘and
n .

constant Care were not wanting. Mrs. Plyne was an expert.
in that most tryingr and tiresome occupation, taking care of
the sick, and Annie felt anxious and )‘etnorseful, thinking
perhaps that. solicitude for her, and the disappointment; of
his darlin'r scheme, might have been the primary cause of
his illness; so she deVoted herself to his care until he was on
the way to recovery. ' ‘ , ‘

One evening, Annie, al'ter remaining nearly all the after-
noon with Mr. Norris, Wailing upon and nursing him, went
- outintothegarden to rest, and think, and breathe the fresh air.
She took the garden scissors with her, and gathered a bouquet of
early flowers and green sprigs, which she intended for the
‘ invalid’s room. As she re-entered the house, she heard the
bustle of an arrival in the hall, and Mrs. Plyne’s voice ex-
claiming, “ My dear brother I Yes, he is much better. Come
into the parlor.” , . ,

Annie escaped without being observed, to her own room ;‘
she began to dread the approaching de’nouement, and as she
sat by the open window of her chamber, toying with her
flowers, the color came and went upon her cheek; she blushed,
and smiled, and paled alternately, pulling her, flowers :to
pieces in a very nervous and “ fidgety”, manner ' trienn-
while. ,

In about half an hour the tea-bell rung, and Mt'e‘Plyne"
came bustlng to the door, and with only the pretense of a
knock, entered. ‘ ’. '

“Brother has come, Annie. IIe iswaiting in father’s room
to be introduced to you before going down to tea. Father'
seems almost well again this evening!” ' _ v
_ Annie arose and t'ollowed Mrs. Plyne tovher father’s room,
Standing, with one hand resting upon the' back of the 
easy-chair in whieh the in 'alid reclined, was Ln,me and .

H 'r ' .

well-known figure. > v. . .

 

 

 

 

    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
     
  
 
 
    
   

A

,x

t

u

re

 the meal was over.

THE PRAIRIE BRIDE.

,“Mias Howard, my brother Charles,” began Mrs. Plyne,
but“ brother Charles,” without waiting for further ceremony,
sprung forward with an exclamation of pleasure and surprise,
seized two little hands and pressed them within his own,
while a pair of ruby lips were offered for a kiss, and two
amazed and bewildered people looked on in utter astonish-
ment. '

“ How came you here, Annie? And you never wrote me
of your intentions. I mailed a letter to you, after I left
Thurston, on my way here." Just then.thc “Miss HUthI‘t " of
his sister’s introduction, flashed across his remembrance, and

4 im expression of perplexity took possession of his counte-

nance.
Annie burst forth into a musical peal of laughter.

, “Do you think, ‘ Mr. Clark,’ that no one can masquerade but

yourself ‘3”
Tea was neglected, and a full explanation entered upon;
but the Geek, who had taken extra pains to have a nice supper
' in honor of the guest, declared to Patty, the chamhcrmaid,
that she ” \Vasn’t a-goin’ to hah eberyt'ing jes’ done spilcd !"
and accordingly, after ringing the hell twice without effect.
made her appearance at the open door of the chamber and
,announced supper in her supcrhest style, and Mrs. Plyne de-
dared that explanations and narratives must be postponed until
The little party, however, were too much
excited to have much appetite for Minty’s good things, and that

J personage was extremely indignant at the indifference with

which her dainties were treated.
‘ They were all soon reassembled in the invalid’s room, and
the conversation resumed. Mr. Norris, with an attempt at
humor quite unusual with him, declared that he had “ made
the'match," after all. ‘

~ “ If Iliad not attempted to‘manage’ Annie as I (lid, she

\ ‘ [would not have gone west, and Charlie would not have met,

wooed and won her, for, of course, even if I had succeeded in
bringing you together here, ‘you would not have treated each
other with common'civility, so I shall no longer reproach my-

” 7‘} Half, as}! have done, for driving my little girl away from home;
 f hut console myseltwith. the thought that, ‘ All’s well that. ends

 

 

'1..

 

 

 

a re,

SIGNS on RELENTING. ‘ ' 97
Clark, as Annie still called him, made a much longer and
more pleasant visit than he anticipated. His father 'apidly
recovered health and spirits. Mrs. Plyue confided tohim that
an eligible widower had proposal to make her Mrs. Clinton;
and that, as soon as Annie was married, so that; she would not
be required to matronize the home-establishment, she should ac.
cept the proposition. , '1
One of the first excursions which the young people took
was out to Mr. Malor‘s farm, and Susie was confidentially in-
vited to spend a month in town with her friend, that said
friend might have the benefit of her advice and assistance in
preparing for a certain important event. which was to transpire ‘

in October—Annie‘s favorite month.
It seemed desirable that Annie‘s liusband,‘when she took

(no, should he a resident of L———, as there were important
ikterests there to l)‘ attended to in her behalf; and so“ Clark "
was persuaded, after much argument pro and con, to close his
Easiness conueetious in Thurston, and come to Annie’s home,
instead of taking her, as he \\i:~hed to do, to one of his oWn
—a proper penalty for marryingr an heiress ix

Of course there was a grand wedding in October. Poke,
and his wife, Melissy, were pressed into the service in the enli-
nary and preparatory departments down-stairs, and many were
the exchunatious ot‘ astonishment and wonder elicited byhhn,
when relating the remarkable occurrences of “ out West)“

new

 

  

 6., DIM

I Doing Gun

“$TAN

NM. 1 to '.‘I Inclulin.

DARD.

’ ‘ "D IA‘L O'Gl} I '
.h‘ L
I‘pr School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments.
I! :095 Pnpnlnr Dinlngnu and Drum“ in “ch book. Encll volume ma

21m n a: mu osn- and on rulei .Lul' wicc lcncunla.
ll 1 l‘ l i l )

,5 'Beadle & Adams, Publishers, 98 W' “

St” N. Y.

, ._—_—..——_
‘ The“ vnlnmu lyan been prepared with ospeclnl rufcrrm‘c to their nrnilallillty fnr Exhihltlnm,

being lulu led m schnuls and
LI:

rnl‘lon With or will)
SAN YOUNG PEOPL

E 0! every 1 ge, bu

nut Illu furniture nl‘ n Huge. nnd Iullml In SCIIUL

lll lnnla nml I'enmia. it is f.:ir to nmnna Illllb x-P‘

.ollmr buulu in tho umrkel, m. any; price, contain no many useful and nvnilubie dialog;qu and drama:

' lot wit, pathul, humur and sentiment.

' ' DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 1.

' limiting oHlIo Mung. For nine ynung lllliiei-

Billing a Live Englinhmnn. For three lmyl.
'l'nnn'n Communion. For male and femlu.

* lellxinn. Fur mo lndiu.
Thu Ruhenrlnl. Fur six bova.
\anuh willgnn Channel Fi-Y lwobnys.
'I'ha Quuzn ni‘ May. For twn i'mia girlu.
The Ten~Pxn| ty. For fnnr lmliti-
Three Scones In Weddell Life. Mnlonnd female.
filrl. Snifllel' Cnnleulon. For lnnle mni i'nnl- l-

   

Tl” Minion 0f the Spirit» Flvu young laliius. i

DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 2.

The Ganlnl n_lebérlv.‘ fl mills! and I formula.
Cinderella: or. The Lilila Gian Slipln-r.
Ami Saying Bud. Severni ulmrncleri.

TIIO,Goldcll Rule. Two muiel and two Innmlun.
'J‘ha Gift of“). Fniry Queen. Severnl females.
'l'nk-n in and I) ma For. For two harm-ter.
Th0 Country Annt‘l Vim to ti:- Ci y. For nev-

urlll clmrncun. r

llh 'l'wn annul. For two mnlcl.
Trying the Chnrnrura. Fu' three males.
The Hu pr anliiv. For uvernl ‘mxi .nll.’
The haiku. Fu- neural gin-ruck".

,‘I’M M37 Queen“ Far an unlire lrhonl.
Bren Raf-rm ('nnvomiun. i-‘ur sun fumnlu.
Kit-ill“ Bad Company. A Farm. l-Vr Ilvu Illnlel.
' Coner Liner Dimcnilias. 2 mniu, I {enunlvu
I -Nntiohnl Ruwonhtivel. A Burlelqnn. 4 mnlul.
Lupin; lilo Daft. For numeruui nmicn. I

, '17“ Km! King. For Info: more persona.
- Martin in Life. 'I lire: males and hm renmioa.
‘ filth, u a and Cll‘xu‘ily. Fur three iilliu gill
Dari: M Jonn. For lwo main mnl one funm
‘ The fin . A Floral Fqncv. Fornlx lino a" a
Tlu Em: quad Prince“. ‘2 mnlosfiavnml fonmll-s
I annrto Wham Hon'rriIDne. 'Ilnnlea,1feumlu
in Gvnlld cum. Furnveml mnles,nna rl'lllflli'
Tanzanian. inc-mien. For twenty lnnlu.

DIME DIALO

_ ' Th- 'l'hrn Gnu-M. For school or nrinr.
Gmliuuenl. A"Thm Perwn-'” Fa I'm
»’ . ‘ 'Dnlll' d In. Cnrlnln. For male: npd feumlu.
V Tim In PI Society. Flva boys nnd u lmrllor.
Eulnlnntinfi Dly. Fara-19ml lenmla chunk-n.
Trudan in “ Tm?! " Fnrmarnl mains.
Thu Schml Boy; ‘l‘rihunnl. Fnrmu buyn.
- A Loan “imp-o. Sever-Ill main: and fwnnlfil.
1147 N9! £060: mIAquor. For No famtlua.

 

   
 

 

 KIM ISAth Mala pnd femalel.
lv Bod lder Dlflcnhlel. For fivp min.

ml” 4...; I

. III I‘ll» run en.

'Glmm. Md _ hula.

. Punk ‘

. In,» Ciulrnls.
. nu", (mm-k nnd Broom.

 

 

i

liolmobhing. For five: enlrers.

’l'Im Sucrulul‘Succua. ‘ur three upenlrerl.

Young Alnericn. Three male: and two iomnlel.

.luscpllinu'n Doatiny. Four I'emnlu, (melnnlo.

The Fully oi‘lhe Duel. For tin-u. Innle speakers

Dngnmlism. For three. nmle wankers.

'i‘ho Ignnrnnt. Conioundmi. Fur [we lmyl.

The Inn Yunng Mun. Forter nmira.

The .r’: Reckoning. 1‘) female: [Hill I mnln.

The Village with Onu Guullunnm. Fur eight to-
nmlaa and one male. v

  

How to Write ‘ Pnpniur’ Storiel. Two lull“.

'I'Ilu Nuw mnl tlm (lid. Fur two mnlul. ’

A Selmnliml nt Lust. For lwolllllel.

'l'im Greenlmrn. For two mnlel.

'l‘ilc 'l'nrun Men of Sclanm. Fur i'onr 1nan

'I'Im OM Lluiy‘s\’\'iil. Fur {our lnniol.

'l‘he Lillie l‘hil supine". For hvn IiIlLe filth.
"ml an “air. For live umiu. '

‘ er 27x young India.

Euiugue.

mum u. Fivemnlel anti nnehmlfi'

‘I'Ire Engllsn 'l‘l-nwler. For No min.

  
 
 

DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 3.

The G-Anleel Cook. For lwn mnlon. ‘
,‘Indurpiovr. Fur two mnius nml two {emnlcs \
The Two llomnnl. For two lnnlu.

The Same. Sn‘cnud scene. For lwo mnlcl. .
Shnwirv: the White Fulllhar. 4 null”. i formic.
’I‘Im Bulllo Cull. A Rucllulivo. Fur one will».

I DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 4.

The Stubh‘z-Lown Volnnisor. 9 main. I («Inle
.\ Sm nu irmn " l’nnl Pry.” Fur lonr lnnlu.

Fur lhrua mnlul and mm Iellmll.
Fur thrru little chin
l'im I’lgln. Wuy. ACulloqny. Fur lwn buys.
\thl [he Ledger Snyl. Fur two mnlul.

’l‘llu Crimes nfDreu. AColioqny. For two hr)...
'l'm Reward of lionevolrnm. Mir {vur mum.
The Lunch Fur two mules.

GUES, N0. 5.

Putting on Airi. A Cnllnqnv. FM two mill“.
'l‘lm Siming lilvrll. For Neural Imu.

Two Men: nflJI'e. A Colloquy. For an gill:-
fixlrm-l i‘rmn \Inrinn Filllern.
“\In-lrv \inm . An Ac web-
‘,'I'|\a Six \‘inues. For xix vnnv
T'm Irishman at Home. For in n Illflle'v
Fushlmmblo quniremenls. For llvrea :lrll.

A Davy of 1‘s (Eyel). For elgllborleu liltloglrll

 

         

 

DIME DIALOGUTS, N0. 6.

Tim Two Conmrinn. F‘v‘r Ill?" mnitl.

Tina Vanni" of Folly. For n number offumn It
Mm! Belly’| Benny. Four lemnlel Ind two mliel
The Libel Bull. For tw. famnlu Inn! on. ml-
Snntn Ciluu. For I nnmlur of bony.

mud-mm: Fniriu. For morn! Ilnh gull.

Tl» Thu Ran-:1. Fur m: min.

 
 
     

 
    
  
  
   
     
   
  
    
    
  
   
  
 
 
    
 
  
    
      
 
   
  
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
   
   
   
 

./

l

 

  

 

 

 

   
    
  
   
   
    
    
  
  
  
    
   
   
 
    
    
    
  
   
  
    
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
    
     

, -.........»,... -———.——-—

4’19 two beggars. For fourteen l'unmlrx‘.
Lilla ennlwlnhl in fairy-laud. Fur gl’lfl. _
Vwenzy yeah ileum). 'wo x'muizs, um: m4) :
c way lu \Vindh Fur w.) m .ch.

' v.71: M l '

 
 
  
 

 

 
 
   

 
 
  

 
 

rnl‘nl lmys.‘
-_ two l'uxuulu
.\ ,1) males.

3. t .1
ling to gen rid ol'a. bow.
3’ m'dlng-schaol. Two
“hm. fnr the pladge.

‘ e 111: of dram-dd For lllrua boys.
Iu wile. A uoll' By. For two fenmlu.
no: numerwa mules.

DIME DIAL

For a numbnr of Jrls.
t otficer. Thea girls an two boys.
‘ it'll“ For three L \‘s.
' Farthrce .r' .a. _
Two mam find on.) lam-x1e.

:24: mo le

 

     
  

   
 
     
   

bare. \ err l lr‘riaa and two fenmlus.
. «eloaipcaa. la ' one lanmlu.
‘ ‘ borro h Iran.
: 0.. Baler Sal evu \ boyl.
an...
.254.

   
   
  

33 5’0! helm J4 ‘beruf l'ounles.

a w Englnulmisul

la and me new. Faun.
(3.3.4.3. For twelve l

For mm (2 Incl.

' mans undone mala.

     

   

 
  
 
 

: seed caucus ‘

  

.3. Mark Twain’l choc. 01: main. one: feumla.
“.16 old 1131?. School faltlvaL For 1hr“ bays.
3...: Capri offolly. For man girls.

Gr a: lives. For :11: boys an: mi: girls.

I}: uu‘lHL For numerous umlcs m. females.
fj‘aa llghtofloze. For two bu 3.

' :1: flower children. for Hang girln.

deal uncle. For t]! be boys.

‘ Juausaion. For two boys.
DIME mam

flaw-ram: m v deceum. Fm» six 1...”.
T e conundrum fnm‘ y. For uml», and innlllle.
Curing Belay. Three mull-I nnnl funr fenmiu.
Jack nnd ma bemumlk. For fivu eunuch-rs.

he wa to do i: nnd not to d» it. Bfem-rlul.
How Io come ho\ltlry,otc. Male and lemula.
The only trua life. Fur two ulrll.
Clmic culloquien. l'1r two hoyn.

 

   

June Selma! Seraes-Dlilogném
DIME D: «mamas No. 7.

E DIALOGUIS Yo. 9.

E DIALOGUES No. '10.

 

r 'l’u-u view: ul'lllu. Colloqny. For two {smug

l The righm ol‘muuic. For two lemmas.

I A‘ lullruldia can. A quoryln var-e. ’l‘woxlrh.

. 'l‘nc wnuhHm lchuoldunuhar. For two male“.

(‘ am: to 1m. loo sum). For chreu Hull“.

hz. u‘clwk. For hvo l‘mlu 51th.

1'; w: dignity. A collu uy. at two hop,

6; iul‘ two .grponslvu. ‘ur two males.

Hmnlul and the ghost.‘ For Lwo parlor".

[ L_ml.. rod ri-llng hand. For two banal“.

I .\uw application ofmr old rule. lluyl mill glib; .
main.

 

1

 

 

 

Uulurud cuulllu. A culloquy. For two
. I
293135 No. 8. '

Gottiugnphumgmph. Mnlesnnd female: ' - r \

 

[he auclely far gunurnl lurprovemeur. Fur girls.
A UUlllullldn in disguinc. Three girls, :‘ur Wyn.
Ll mt vxpectm'wm. For two 3:.

l'l.)‘l {uuhunL Five femulen and {our ml“.
Clul‘. '\ fur the heathen. .Une male, and fem-dd
A M \‘ use. Fur rhrcu bu... r .
Ghou . For ton fumnln run} on. male.

 

  
  

‘ ~v orlnumm klnrlneu. For two {and
'Iud children. For a mixed IchOOL I
and Culiul. ' R '
11mm: and Aufidlus. ‘

Thu nuw‘ Icllolm‘. For n number a! girls.

Tm: snlf-nmde man. For Lhrea mulu.

The .\l y (Hueen (No. 3.): Fur a school.

Mrs. lnwl; und’s ecnmmy. 4 boys and 3 :1le-

Suuuld wumuu bu gl‘lm the ball»! Fm- boy»

‘9 .

 

    

Tho rehanrlal. ‘ur a uhool.

'l‘ha mm way. For an... boys and on. girl. __
A pmctiml lifu lesaun. For three uirll. _ ‘
'l'lw mnulr sum Ihu nuldler. Forum hnyl.
117154879. Sclruul ell-val. 1"” two glrls.
Lnrnl Dumlmrry’n it“. ‘2 mnln And ifrlualgl
Witch-u in nu cream. For .‘l Kllll mull: buys.“ >7 ‘
Frenchman. Charade. Numeror'b shaman.

:

.‘r

GUES No. 11.

l“ uhionnhlo dl

. I
lpM-Ion. Far two um. girlt. '

1 (la. For two boys and M03"  I . '
Junnblngelol»: I'f‘Smrg: u! Suva}! WM r 1 ‘ _
A 11-: Me. or any I.  H'
[Lug-«l Dink’nlc on. ”For Wuhan. ~
SCl‘IIIOl chm‘lrlu, I! ll; Inblm. ,

A Very quullluntblo nay. [laughava

 

 

 

 

I. G-mmvus Vns1 3:. ‘ prinlieru.
ll. ’l'muvrlnnu and 3‘. \zel.

’ .mvom clnmrh‘rs.

Jr scvarnl rlmruclul‘s.

. Fur two girls.

lmril Igu. Fur Iwn lmyn.

mule: and (our ("mule-I.

1-1.: llm mm. mm.
1': l ' c9.

Yuulrea new " M

  
   

L‘
The lluwul .m'nlml‘flm
‘ n n wel. '1 hr:
r: of the \vlduwa.

    

        

DIME DIALOGUES N0. 13.

.wo o’clock ln the morning. Fm- rhrm um]...

An indignatinn meeting. Fur 3 ml lcnmlrh.
Mara and buh‘md then-cues. Several clmrncl s.
' “OM!”- IIOy. A munberol‘boy: and teacher.
llu Bard. A drug pines. For girls and bays.
or. u) had In it «can. For several chm-scum.

 

DIME DIALOGU'ESNO.12. . 

A null. Foul" a mu , r ,
The rmlguutloman. 'Fur twol'ayn. . v I ‘ ‘,

   
    
  
     
 
 
 

 

A l'nmlly lib: lo pattern Alter .Ton chm-um
H-uv m ma r-uua. An ml gchuwlo. .
’I ha vmnflou ecnpmlm Fuur nuyw mud Conclmr.
Tim, Imuguy _\'. Tim!» fenmluuuul n. mum.
de-czm. Au nctln: chnrnde. '

All 1. nnt mild margins—n. Aeting pmvurb. , .
Sic mum glurln mun-ll. Acting chhmde. ‘ , " ’

 

 
 

Fnr four b ‘
N r a'lch Word RI nil. Fur n n‘" .m a
‘ho I oapinyzlbeanty. For
An innocent trigns. '1‘
Old N ably, t o fortune—teman
Boy-hulk. ‘ For «um um.
r

\Vnrth. not mm’ L'h.

   

     
 

M V _ T1
ufllfemali. .
"0 sill...

         
 
 

 
 
     

 

nth-hm moral. For two mules and famnle.
m . WV . , V 1... -

Mnthlfxll rind. ‘ Fe m
r

   

 

Dime School Series—Dialogues
/ l DIME DIALOGUES No. 14.

Ilia. Janna Iona. Three genie and twolmlien. Refinement. Actingcharnde. Severnlchnrutexl
The horn genius. For lour gents. Commence, the arbiter. For inily nndgent.

   

 

 

 

. - I a l ore than one listener. For {our gent: nudimly. How to make mothers hn my. Fur mu boyl. ; .
7 ', 45in on eurih is nei Fur tlrren girlu. A euntlnnive nrgument. or two girls. A l
. i , ‘he right not to he u pnupgr. For two boys. A womun'a blindness. For three girl... .
_’ ‘Wumnn nature will out. 'ur I girle’ school. Rum’: \vorh ('l'empernnee) For i‘unr gents. '~
{3 . Benedict and bachelor. For two boys. The intnl nnutnke. For two young lnnliee.
‘ ' r The cost otn time. For five persons. Eyes nnd nose. For we gent nmi one lady.
- l The enrprlee party. Foreix litule girle. Retribution. For a number of lwye.
"' ‘ A nucucnl demon-tuition. For three hose. ‘ 1 .
~ . ' ' .l'
DIME DIALOGUES No. 15. 
I Thefnlriu’ucepode. Numerous nlmrnctore. Tliu heir-nt-lnw. For numeroue under. 1’
' f r L .A [wet’n perplexitiel. For six gentlemen. Duu’t believe whnt you hear. For three lediefi . _
y ' A home cure. For two ladies ulnl one gent. A enfetv rule. For three imliel. ’3
‘ 'l‘he goodtliere in in each. A number ol’baye. 'l‘he cliiei‘l resolve. Exlrncl. For two main. '
‘ Gentlemen or monkey. For two hoyl. 'l'eiiting her iriendl. Fur Herernl ellnrueteru.
The little philewplrei’. For two liliie git-ll. The lureigner’s tvnuhlee. For two ladies.
Aunt l’olly’n lesson. for {our indies. The out without an owner. Severn-l character!
\ A wind-rail. Acting clmrede. Fora number. Nnturnl selection. For three gentlemen.

 

, Will it ynyl For two boys. ‘

A '   ’ mm: DIALOGUES No. 16.

rrvr

 

   

  

Polly Ann. For fourlndiee ludono gentleman. The lmpe of the trunk room. For five glrie. w
Theineetinz ol' the wlmll. her :1 school. The bonetere. A Culioqny. For twn little girl;

a The good they did F x ladies. Kiity’n funeral. For leverlll little girll.
The boy who wm or rix gentlemen. Slrntngi-ni. Charade. For Iurernl character»
Good-by day. A .ollnqny. For three girls. Twisting her Iehnlnrn. For nulnernun Iclwlili‘l.
The link well mun. For three boye. ’l'lm world in wliut we make it. Two girll. _
The investifinting committee. For nine ladiel. The old end the nuw. For gentlemen and lady. ‘ ' F‘
A “cornu- in :nguu. For four boyn. ‘ .

f ' . ' DIME DIALOGUES No. 17.
H ’ Lm'l-I 'OLKIY SPEECHES AND DlAl-OGL'ES.
'l'o huh-p y you unnt be good. For two little Iermnn ; Nobody": child; Nnttingnt grande

girle an one boy. Grny'l; Little boy‘: View of how Columbul
I v lvnnercont glory. For lbevy of hayl. discovered Alrieriuu; l iltle girl’s View; Lit—
_ The little pewmniur. For two llltlu girll. tie hm ’I lynch on tiun; A liitlu lmy'l pack.
- ' < “’hnt pnrte friends. For two little girls. et; The nndnlizht murder; l<u|.ivy ltub’r lec-
. _, v Mnrthu Wuhingwn ten. party. For five llltle ond Iernmu; How the hnhy crime; A boy’l
\' l l. . girl: in old-time’eoutume. obnervntiunn; The new islute; A Inuther’l
The evil than in in it. For two young horn. love; The crenwnin’ glory; Buby Lnlu ; Jolh
,_ Wu: and fwlixh little girl. For two irll. ilillinga on the blllnbl£-'AEEY wren, alligator;
" " ' . Achlid'e inquiries. For unrdichlldm teacher. Died yelterduy; The chiekon’l mistake; The “
7 ' The mold club. For two girl. and otheru. heir uppnrent; Deliver u: from evil; Don’t
, flair to do I. For two hoyl. wnnt to he good; Onl n drunken leilOW;
~A hundred your: to come. For boy and girl. The two little rohim; in slow to condemn;
Don’t trult been. For levernl Iililtll boy I. A nonlenee tale: Little boy’s declmnntaon; A
. Above the ehlol. For two Mnnli glrll. child’s desire; Begun; The gnhliu tnt: Rub-
The true heron-m. For three little hayr. n—dub; Cnlnmny ; Little rlmtterbox; Whore

. Cl" “little hoyeu chance: The nor of the are they; A lmy’l View; The twenty {rogl‘
‘. . ylum pudding; l’llben men; A lltt a glrl’e Going to Ichool; A morning built; The ir
rlghte speech; Johnny’e opinion of grand- of Dundee; A fancy; in the Iunlight; lie

 

\, motile“; The hon-ting hen; He knows der new lnid egg; The little inusiciun; ldiu Bun:
rest} A email be)": 1 aw of earn: ; Robby’n Pottery-1mm ; Then and now. _ 
" v' DIME DIALOGUES No. 18. -'j
Fairy wiehee. For more! thunder; Give I do: u bad name. For lmtr gentlemen. 2
,. No roe. without] thorn. 9 min end 1' femele. Spring-tune wilhee. For nix little zirlr. l
Too greedy by half. For three melee. Lost Charlie : or. the gipty’n revenge. For nu ‘

. , I -( no good turn denrvu another. For 6 Mien. meron- clmrncterl.

:_ ' Lu ink Melinde. For 3 M31 And I Indy. A little tramp. For three little hoyl. a"

'l he new echoinr. For rev-rel boye. linnl timer. For 2 gentlemen run! 4 lediu.

Th'liulo lnureeeeer. For four hilly. The lemon well worth learning. For two melee '
Jl-Ilmlu- For ayutlemen end iodine. IlK‘l twn familial.
v _

’ ’ DIME DIALOGUES, N0. 19.

 ‘ An leuliilyeu . 'l'wo fem-lee end two males. The refined nimpletonl. Fur {our lediu.
_‘ Contentment. For five little bop. eremher Benwn. For three melee.

 

 

 

 

   
    
     

_ Who In thsnintel For three young girll. Modern education. Three males and one lamb. f ‘

' ». , Monti-w I end thru lentil". Med with too much lore. For three mnlu. v ,
 fie’ihdeoth poor. I A little lolh’ play. The fairy’g warning. Dre-I piece. For two girl. .
>7 - 9' MP]; “a {mum A“ drug,” Aunt Ennira'e experiment. For seven].

9.. “Hutch-Ml.» For {only-hunch". The in 'iteriouu G. G. Two (emotion undoneth

- "5“. 3m 10",“ My; y- _ ‘ We’ll we to mortgnge the term. For one m
‘35! ' die For.» Chrhtmu Fu- and two funicular.

~ ' .‘ -  . An old fuhlnned duet.

W, I...“ . . ‘ Thunctiao. For unmerauechemt.

    

. 7

 

 

 

Thewrong mun. Three mules (uni thro- founda-
Attvmol-n culil. For two little girl...

Ne‘i’l present. For f‘uurbays.

Judge not. For teacher un.l suflernl Mimi-'1“-
'I‘ellim.r nlrenms. ‘ur {our littlu lulu.

Sit-ed by lore. or twu hms.

hlietaknn Mel)! y. I‘wu mules nmi three femnl'u.
Couldn‘t reml is‘). umln‘! mid! tumuiu.
A little Vesurim. For ~12: little girls.

“Sula.” For three buys.

 

 

 

DIME DIALOGUES. No. 21.

A A‘Icnesshll lion-man party. For unvrrnl.

(Jun ul‘ .leht uni. ol‘ «Linger. For thruu mule: nml
. three (alums. I
’ Little ital Riding Hood. Far twn children.

lbw aha mmie him [up mu. A duvt.

The house on the hi. . Fur {uur Mimi“.

.villancu enough. For two mules.

\Vm'th and \wnllh. For {our ferrules.

Wumrlxil. For luv-3.11.

no Dnrir Cupid; or, the mistnkee of :5 morning.
For three gentlemen and two Imlien.

That Ne’er-dmwell: or, a bruthur‘l iesnon. For
two male: nml two (aunties. .
igh art: or thu new umnim For two girls.

Strnuge ndveutur-m. For two boys.

ii ’1 supper. For four girls.

A prnvticnl nxslnpliticniiuu. For two hnya.

Monliuur ’l‘hiea in Amurlcn; or, Ynukco vs.
Fronchlnlin. For l‘nnr hay].
oxy’n diplomacy. {ill-mules nml‘lncidentnls.’

A Frenchman; or. tin.- oulwiued uuut. Fur two
India And one gautleunm.

 

Dime Scbnol Series—ntalogueu. ‘
DIME DIALOGUES, No. 23.

 
  

An Alf cutie. Fur {in mule: Ind thne fmuioi

City mmnrfl And country burn. For tum K515-
uud one boy.

The nilly «ii-puts. - For two 111‘]. “(I truths.

Nut one there! For {any truth: chum:ka '

Fuel-print. Far nun-Aaron: charuchru

Keeping hanrdere. Two timele- and than under.

.\ pure tor good. One Indy and two ruminant.

’l'hc creduluul win-urn. for twn ma.

|.\Inrk mtinge'return. For four Ind“. r‘ .

Clmlvl’elll. For somrul children. ' I ' -

'i‘un much for Aunt Mutildu. For three femuln

Wit uguinnt wile. Three femuiuundouumla «

A sude recovery. For threo males. _ \V

’l‘hulluuble ttnituuem. For tour females.

Cuuuting chicken. befuro they were hatched.
Fur tuur mulu. « _

. y
1 . -

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 22.' g ' . .’ ,

'l‘ituuht'I banquet. Fur n number 0! ctr-II. I! . "
Buys will be hoyl. For two bo I and oue‘alrk; ,
A rainy day; ar, the Ichml-gir phiiowpiun. ’
For three young Indian.
Gml in love. For A number ofu'hnlnrl.
The way ha mannged. For 9 mulul. ‘2 lentil".
l-‘nmlnngo. Vprluutt churnctere, white And auto!

wise.
The little doctor. For two tiny girls.

.\ ewes! revel) e. For fuur lacy».

:\ May Iluy. ‘or three little gir'l. . .
i’rum the unhiimu to the ridiculou. Full“
Menu not face. For five boil. ,

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 23. .

Rhodl. Hunt'l remedy. For a fe mules.) mule.
Han: Schmldt'e rec‘nmmend. For two nmlui.
Cheorv and Grumble. For tum little hut-e.
The phmltnm duuzhnutl. For six (cumin.
on it pay! Fur nix mulel.
Company manner: nnd nmne lmpolitenI-es.
two main, two {atnalol and two children.
9 glad .Iayl. For two little boys.
Unfortunate Mr. Brown. For i uiule,6 females.
lanai cont. For two girls.

For

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 24. , . '

The zndrlen of liberty. For nine you": ladies.
he three grucu. For three in: he girls.
he urn-ii: director. Fnr seven nmlu.
A "range lecrut. Fur three girll.
An unjunt mun. For four mailer.
Thu |hop girl’s victory. I mule, 3 female].
The plychometiur. '2 m-ntleumn, ‘2 indiu-
Moln in no “on! for It. Fm' tour indies.
Whhmicni. A number hf cunrnct‘u, both sexes.
Blamed urn thu punctual:er Snvon yoqu girls.

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 25..

The Iocietien ofthe deiectnhlu and has minar-
lhlee. Fur twn indies and two gentlemen.
Whnt filth would have. 6 little boy: dz tenth".
Sunshinu through tba clouds. For {our indict

The friend in need. For (our Hillel.

Tho hours. For twalvu little glrll.

In door: sud out. For five little boys.
inzbltl. For nna mnla nnd four femulu.

The pound of iith. For three burs.

BCIII’I of the fiddler]. 7 mind chnrtctarn.

Gwd words. or n number of Layla.

A friend. For 1 number 01‘ “this gull.

e nbove book. In laid by Newldnlen "mm"; in will b. “m

Er
we... ozhuulpt of price, 10 cents earl).

muons a: Anus. I’llle 05 3.7.1:.

A beer garden. For time main twp {em-lie. , ,
The inin hues. For (nur little No. ‘ , . », r

 

    

Chauknmt For numerous cbuructorl. _ v V.
Selinul-ti . For two little girll. ‘ . \ '_ J v- ‘ . 'F
he: 11 Icene. 9 prindpnl chm-curl md MMfl‘ .

bran and gold. Severul «human! Innis and I"-

mule. , . .
f‘onl‘uund Miller. For three melee, two hulk. fl
imiornnco VI. 'ultlce. Fondant: lulu. \

i’mluut- nll. or {our to

 

The fix hrnve men. Foul: bus-r.
Jim-e you heard ch» new-l

'l'ho- true queen. Two-young
Allhrht minuka. 4 mice, 1

   

urn. *  ’
mush, n8 teq-
emi nuxliinrlam‘. ~ .

Lilly and bury. 'l‘n little fol'lom. ‘ ‘ ’ a V '
'11... alum young. Innuomu. x mun-wk: ,' ‘
Thnt poutnlrnrd. sin-ll land 1 funderpun. a
“mixer Gonna, and her hnuwhn d. A (who): .
'Iuhooi tuncy drone dildo.»- Ind HIM“.

 
  
   
   
    
   

The true an nfvnglth. For 1: whole Adana).
Gmuoster. For nunuruun churnclcn.‘
Put ynnrull‘tn hi: plm. For two M31. ~
Little wise heath. For (our littlu girl; .
The regeneuwrn. For who“. ‘. '
Crnbtru’e wooing. Several characters. '
Inuzrlty the hum of nil nurcau. Two main. ’ ' ’
A cmoknd way mule straight. on. zmm- - -- x

I

and one ind . ‘
undontmtluunu. , s  

   

   
  

 
    

How to “bra In "
.

 
 
 

     
  

  

    

Dime School Series—Speakers.

    

 

l, DIME DIALECT SPEAKER, No. 23.

Dut’n Inn’- do matter,
The Mluiuippl miracle,
Van M tldmuumu in,
Dune Imus vut Mary hm

‘ gun, .

Put U’FInherty on wo-
man’n right:

The home rulers, how

‘ thny “spukus,” A

Hmkinh Dxuvuon on
Molllemnin—luw,

‘Hc didn’t sell the (firm.

The men Ivory of Frank-
lin’n k

I would

agnln
A palho’tic “cry,

“I
1 were n. b0}

\ Tin Irlthmm'n punc-

"In.
The lightning-rod «gem.
Th. “may at fun: m

at
Ruth 'nnd Nnoml,
Guru of Conan,

lu
Jnhn find,
The brukemnn n
church,
Pauuu Moonh’l lur-
mount,
Arguing dad qua-don

"In Wall: Ind am an,

All about I beg,
Scandal,

A dark aide vlaw,

Tu mmr vuy,

0n ex’n‘uiug German,
Mury’sshumll viLu lamb
A heathy lliscuursu,
'l‘ohiux m to eprllk,

Ulnl Mrs. Grimes,

A parody,

Mun and can,

Bill Underwood, pllot,
Old Gruuley,

l'hfa pill peddler’l om»

uun,’
\Viner Green’s
wordn,

Th9 dlm uld fore“,
Rasher at home,

Thu Sergenm’n story,
Dulel uud Guliah,

Rum,

Why Ihnnld tho rplrit
of mortal bu prmnll
The coming )uunmrhe,

The onfiueur'l story,

A an ‘Idale for {mal-
dclfl,

Ru“ cull,

An m'ceulon to the
family,

 

l
1

Inst l’luin lam,

Dreamng a: l'uul'scnl‘e, A Michignudur

 

 

l

Lutest Chinese outrage,

The munllesl lleslluy ul
the 1.1mm”,

Pansy .\l.L':mn,

Sprays lruul Josh Bil-
lnuq,

Du L wunaluuuea oh (In
M imam,

Dur’s uulllu new under
(in sun,

A Nruru religinus poem,

Tm violin,

l’icnlcdvlights,

Our 0 mlhluu'

llumlrwuw

 

 

luvs,

 

m. .m,
Mug» by lruLh-
lul Junc,

DIME READINGS AND RECITATIONS,

When the cows cnmo
hunw,

Tho duunlion pnrly,

Tummy Tull,

lu
Fruncu.

Nut our to spare,

Mrs. llreezy’s
lumh,

Ruck ol'ngea.

J. (tu-mr Pompey
Squnnh‘a wuuuu,

Annie‘s Liclwt,

The Ileuslmy,

Pat‘s currcipundeuce,

pink

'My nclghhor‘l dozl,

Cmnluusud Mythology,
l'lulus,
'l'm Mn-Mm,
14m, ‘15 . (Axum,
'Im :ln\ 'l u-uucdy

A \lukclu s Arnhhlus,

l'l'hc cumin: mun.

'l‘llc illipnm nflnir I?
Muhlv‘uu's

TImL lmle buhy round
the corner,

A gene“ we inference.

Au IIH'HML n In llm
bird of llberly,

The cmw,

om. well.

 

 

No. 24.

Denth of th’ owdlqulro

. luin lug Sllneid,

Al Elllemu,

TIM: cry ul womanhood.

Thcjutlgnwm (lny,

1'1." hursl bubbly,

Curfew Inuit not rlnl
Lu-nlullt,

The mxell,

The ruler mill,

$mu’x Il'ller,

lerps of the dead,

Charity,

Au many on check.

I“:

 

 

I U TTho nbnva book: no told by Newsdenlcrl everywhere, or wlll be lent. pou-pald, to an,
an... on neolpt of prlce, lo cum each.

/

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publllhen, 88 William Sh, N. Y.

 

 

 

p
[K

 

 

 

 

v\
.A

1

l
"‘9‘ 933"

 

DIME POCliE'l‘

| PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.

1 Hawkeye Hurry.
‘2 Dead Shot.
3 The Boy Miners.
4 Blue Dick.
5 Nat Wolfe.
6 The White Travker.
‘1 The Outlnw'e Wife.
8 The Tali Trapper.
9 Lightning .10.
10 The Ialand Pirate.
11 The Boy Ranger.
1? Bean, the Trapper.
13 The French Spy.
14 Long Shot.
15 The Gunmaker.
16 Red Hand.
11 Ben, the Trapper.
18 Wild Karen.
19 The Specter Chief.
20 The War-Killer.
‘21 Wild NM.
22 Indian .10.
93 Old Kent theRanger.
94 One-Eye Tra per.
25 Godbc d, the py.
26 The Black Ship.
TI Single Eye.
98 Indian Jun.
99 The Scout.
30 Eagle Eye.
31 The Myrtle Canoe.
32 The Golden Harpoon.
33 The Scalp King.
34 Old Lute.
35 Rainbolt, Ranger.
36 The Boy Pioneer.
31 Carson, the Guide.
38 The Heart Enter.
:19 Wetlel, the Scout.
40 The Huge Hunter.
41 Wild Nat, Trapper.
42 L nx-eep.
43 T e White Outlaw.
44 The Dog Trailer.
45 The Elk King.
46 Adrian, the Pilot.
(7 The Men-hunter.
48 The Phantom Tracker
49 Moccasin Bill.
50 The WoifQueen.
51 Tom Hawk Trailer.
I2 The Mm char.
53 The Black Wolf.
51 Arkansas Jack.
55 Blackbeard.
116 The River Rifles.
51 Hunter Ham.

 

58 Cloudwood.

59 The Texas Hnwlu.
60 Mercileas Mai.

61 Mad Ant’ony'e Scout!
62 Lucklela Trapper.

63 The Florida Scout.
64 The Inland Tanpper.
ea Wolf-Cup.

66 Rattlin Dick.

6'! Sharp— ya.

(38 Iron-Hand.

69 The Yellow Hunter.
70 The Phantom rider.
1] Delaware Tom

12 Silver Kills.

13 The Skeleton Scout.
'14 Little Rifle.

'15 The Wood Witch.

'1‘ Old Ruff, Tra per.

71 Scarlet Shonl era.

'18 Border Rifleman.

'19 Outlaw Jack.

80 Tiger-Tail, Seminole.
:51 Death-Denier.

89 Kenton, the Ranger.
83 S ecterHoraenian.
SAT e Three Trapper;
85 Kaleolah.

86 The Hunter Hercules.
81 Phil Hunter.

58 The Indian Scout.

:19 The Girl Avenger.

90 The Red Hermiteee.
91 Star-Face, thesiayer.
92 The Antelope Boy.
‘33 The Phantom Hunter.
57-1 Tom Pintle, Pilot.

96 The Red Wizard.

96 The Rival Trappon.
91 The Squaw Spy.

98 Dusky Dick.

99 Colonel Crockett.

100 Old Bear Paw.

101 Rediaw.

102 Wild Rube.

i133 The Indian Hunters.
104 Scarrod Eagle.

105 Nick Doyle.

106 The Indian Spy.

101 Job Dean.

ms The Wood King.
109 The Scalped Hunter.
110 Nick the Scout.

iii The Texaa Tiger.
119 The Ground Knives.
113 Tiger—Heart.

lid Masked Avenger.

 

115 The Pearl Piratea.

116 Black Panther.

11‘! Abdiel,the Avenger.

118 Unto, the Cree er.

11'.) 'l'woAllmided , at.

1&0 Mini 'l'rnii Hunter.

121 Lilan Nick.

121' Kit liird.

1'13 The Specter Ridora.

1‘14 (limit l’etc.

125 The Girl Captlln.

121i Yankee Eula.

1‘21 Silverepnr.

12a Squaiter Dick.

11".! The Child Spy.

130 Mink Coat.

131 Red Plume.

13‘) Clyde, the Trailer.

133 The La“ Cache.

134 The Cannibal Chief.

1‘45 Karaibo.

131i Scarlet Moecuin.

1157 Kidnapped.

1:18 hlpirl of the Moun-
tum.

139 The Sciow Scouts.

1-1.) Border Renegade.

‘ 141 The Mm. Chief.

l-l‘.‘ Boone, the Hunter.
HS Mountain Rate.

141 Thinked Scalper.
145 The‘Lone Chief.

1.18 The Silver Bugle.
147 China, Cheynnnu.
1-18 The Tangled Trail.
14‘.) Th.» Unseen Hand.
160 The Lone Indian.
151 The Branded Chief.
15‘) Billy liowle a.

153 The Valley . out.
154 Red Jacket.

155 The Jungle Scout.
156 Cherokee Chief.

157 The Bandit Hermit.
158 The Patriot Scout-
159 The Vi’ood Ranger-
180 The Red Foe.

161 Beautiful Unknown.
ih-J Canehraka Mose.
163 Hank, the Guide.
164 The Ilnrder Scout.
165 “Vild Nat.

166 Maid of Wyoming.
167 The Three Captivel.
me The Lost Hunter.
1M Border Law.

170 The Lifted Trail.

 

111 The Traer Spy.

17‘) The Forest SM“.

173 The Border Fun.

1 Border Vengeance.

Border Beanie.

The Sona of Liberty.

The Lost Bride.

1111 Keenan.

179 Tim 'l‘onkawa Spy.

13 The Prairie Scourge.

181 Rod Lightning.

182 Binve llcnrt.

183 Night-Iluwk Kit

154 Mueiang Sum.

1156 Hurricane Bill.

186 The Red Outlaw.

151 The Swamp Scout.

188 The Slinwneu'a FOB-

189 Mohawk Net.

:90 (lid Jupe.

191 The Prairie Rider.

199 Old Kyle, Trailer.

193 Big Foot. the Guide.

194 Red Brotherhood.

196 The Man in Cruel.

196 Gian-Eye, the Grrni
C lot.

197 The I’rnirieTr err

198 lilnck John. WP

1'39 Keen-Knife.

'100 Mad Skipper.

201 The Young Spy.

702 'i he Indinu Aw agar.

‘203 liivnl Lieutenant»

‘20-1 The Swnmp Rifles.

205 The lialloon Scum.

‘106 Dacoiah Scourge: \

‘Z(I'l The Twin Scouts.

“108 llucklkln Bill.

QM Border Avengera.

210 Tim Bumble’e Charm.

‘211 The Shawnee Scout.

21‘) The Silent Slayer.

213 The Prairie Queen.

£14 The Backwoodameu.

215 The Prisoner of La
Vintreue

216 Pelez Smith.

" h of the

918 The Prairie Piratea.
919 The Runner Captain.
9‘10 The Red Spy.

‘2‘)1 Dink Darling.

‘12? M urtang Hunters.
2‘23 Gniltynr Not Guilty
9‘14 The Outan Ranger.

1'15

THE FOLLOWING WILL BE ISSUED IN THE ORDER AND ON THE DATES INDICATED:
225 The Schuylkill Rangers. B the author 0f"Quindnro.” Ready February 6th.

226 (in the Deep.
221’ Irons.

228 The Mountaineer.
229 The Hunter’s Escape. By Edward s. Ellie.
280 The Golden Belt.
231 The Swamp Riders.

282 Jahez llawk.

283 Maaeaeoit’e Daughter.
lunter.
236 The Reefer of ’76. I
286 Antelope Abe, the Boy Gu dc. By Will Duxrer. Ready Jul
By Louie Le Grand, M.D. Ready July ‘241
By Edward Wiliett. Readv Auguat 7th.
Ready Augnet 21st.

By Mrs. Henry J. Thomas. Ready September 4th.

284 The Mad 1

287 The Hunter’s Vow.
285K The Hunter’s Pledge.
By Scott R. Sherwood.
The Prairie Bride.

239 Rattlepnte.
240

By Roger Starhnc .
By Edward S. Ellie.

Read
By Edwar

Ready February 'lilth.
March 6th.
Willett.

Randy March 70111.
kmiy April 3d.

By Colin Barker. Ready April 1‘lth.

By George D. Gilbert.

By C. Dunning Clark. Ready May lbth.

By A. J. H. Duganne. Ready May 29th.

By Mn. Mary A. Denieen.
By Harr Cavendiah.

Ready M ny lat.

Randy June 12th.
Ready June 26th.

a.“

For sale by all Newadealere; or sent poet-paid: dugle uumhera, ten cente ; nix montha (12 Non.) $1.25
one yaar (a Non.) $2.50.
\

“ABLE AND ADAMS, Pubilehere, 98 William Street, New York.