iN = 5 eo GIVEN A\ENS se a's R ly 10 ca N = away, |) Cop ALLY 2 COUPON. = ee ‘i ws WW) WD YY. XN EE KOO | . 7 WS N sg Cer é — ¥ : a pre be 8 THOM EVERY: OU Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1890, by Street & Smith,in the Office of the Libravsah of Congress, Washington, D.C. be Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post-Office, July 10, 1890, U D wen Ono? os0 neh enh %e%So8 Ooh caine tastgotcetge% a o%a cha sPeslnsla phe sht ethan et eet geteetyetaetgete%esteeMastaeMe, “ape * one te ae sais Sihikeia F CENTS PER COPY. Poor hereon New York, July 10, 1890. ae No. 9. Subscription Price, $2.50 per Year. MARRY A fn TM | pe net GENTLEMAN. : change in him, for wu his bright face is Soa a — = = saddening and his MNT BAA {HHI MAN Hi | hearty laugh is sel- phat BY MRS. M. A. KIDDER, Wn ) ‘iit MN Rea | } a i Dell ill iH } | aH a | ir “The ladies of the HVAT TKN Z Ni} uo Nl ‘\ Mii i f ian. ‘AT fort, who re: 1 each i i ey te Hi | WH : | | ort, Who read each TM pe other well, say that Ae Kate loves Dick Duluth, but that Fred Nevil will n Iris Marry a gentleman, ‘ous of Girls, it you can, . Molded ana puilt od to On the generous plan, ner De Ough he may neither win her, and as an Hl excuse for this hi “silver or gold,” opinion they givea pal om or fortune, woman’s reason: Ww To have or to hold.” “ Because she 4 will.” ne te Though Bi way indor we aan stand With ? at Oru is — TWO ade ¢ - ie ade and with years after Kate gould | Th ; Osmond’s _ arrival : Ugh he may naught there, and in all cae Uthis mother tongue that time Kit, the st uo is knew, Boy Guide has not oust ugh Sti oe tes been seen by thoso aie inte Society's i Wi | m ee , who would se ple a® arty a gentleman, l Ny LOA Kh HH - vot gladly have taken Girls, if you can! ii | MN SONYA Niles No him by the hand. » if you ca! i Scouts from to the | | Coy the uM | Hi Kt) Ses ij other posts have a. uN “try a gentleman, Fe vole =~ | 5 > pees |! ih met him, once a ear re Girls, if you can! Poca | SANK . |) detachment of sol- t of “htle and tender = WE We 7, ""\ |} +diers who had lost a . IBM TTT TTT GZ y Wine! «6 their guide, had ne Sh no less a man, by fg i HH HN HH Gf /f, \W™ i scoen Soles ei a sae ne who Will treasure es : Ls yy ui i fety ee degre rapa ta to their post by the mysterious boy, and yet he could not be found, search for him as SWeetness in life. y 'e His } } : : : f * ! Le ; aunt Ci 1e plack ’ Child or his wife, "i ,* fe HULLS ad Ti nyphem Scorning to rob them a ang} AWA | erat eZ ZZ 0) Ne Who will never they might, and \” ; hat to make of ! e brut ‘ ’ f W: la é , an part as his strange con- Fitting | } duct no ene knew. , W 1ls household = Captain Duluth e h sorrow and 2= had ever remained , at? t 8loom ! tS his stanch friend, only gal ON love's altar, We and since the day to, Prge’ © flame you would nd ta eek# M Q, of his running away after the eo W ays fight, he had never Gis gentleman, spoken to Fred i out 8, if you can! Nevil except offi- Yo cially, or when me TWIN be happy, some act of cour- ou r Nd You wit be clad tesy demanded it. isd EH he only he He had heard ) publ Be ao, : the whole story of Pleas Amonly clad. Fred Nevil’s com- TQ ig Rit vi on . = : 2 e / Sag It a span— = ; Se Ml and though he h ive Ging pontleman, \ made no charges, bar ir' 8, if you can! *‘yoU ARE TO BE CONGRATULATED UPON THE GALLANT SERVICES YOU ||||I\\ was heard Pp a oe . SOR aig rae Se Ley See Peet no compiaints ~o ye PERFORMED, WHICH GAINED YOUR APPOINTMENT.’’—(see chap. Xv.) against that officer, nes he had ate ore ‘ni nlod é i ra oa) opinion anc nat ast CADET CAREY; Taig na ineens ive, Ol ? complimentary to womb Or, T SOLDIER'S LEGACY sone ater ne afternoon x 5 H E YO U N G . Jack Nelson, the with oot ——_————___—_— driver of the over- will pur “& Romance of a West Point Boy. land coach running S to Fort L——, came 5° B : D- : 6 FED ej he [ 14 in and reported ere as Y LIONEL LOUNSBERRY (2d Lieut. U. 8. Army). | @& iw RE © | having been" : Hi SSs“* ; up” on the trail by ‘a. all “6 re NT MENT \ MeeAT WEST POINT, c A HAVE 0 ENT BY THE PRESIDENTOF ANGADE TSF LF WEST POINT) a band of road ign? Pe ag ECAR Jan commenced in No.6. Back num- Fort L—— has been enlarged — | HAVE YOUR APP pe ieee eae ot agents, and two rty-Or jo ) aned of all News Agents.) strengthened, new officers quarters anc ge tt cae a Labstilntes arid a. -serceantte Cavite Nello Ateee weeks | was barracks built and a larger force ordered |,, Among the most ht ERs sassengers havin eo robbed cap | CHAPTER X. hile: 4¢ihad haabine the Medd the beautiful heiress is Captain Fred | passengers hi g been rok : ity 4 there, while it has become the Mecca of | Se . ae e Spear 3 “BR einecal a dia hh Ale : xy. 0 : ’ , Nevil. for he has received his two bars ut colonel, they didn’t git e pay 5 4 ae TO WEST POINT, young soldiers who are aware of the very but afew weeks before he is again pre-|master and his boodle,” continued Jack yeas Wo 4 large numbers of ladies who make it their oer ph ee ; Nelson, in making his. report to-Colonel ne art > Tan years have passed since the gal- | home. : : cae ea dios savy that heis sure to win | Crandall, “for yer see we was overtook on Y ty? th rescue of Kate Osmond from And among these, of more than a score _Many gossips say that he is. Pies judy: | the trail by a young man as jist asked fer 4 to : a renegade chief,,Diamond Dan, !of beautiful belles, Kate Osmond is the| Kate in the end, though it 1S er et la few words with Paymaster Godfrey. 7 ' fade ; In that time Colonel Clyde|one upon whom all agree as the most ae aan ene SET isdaent | s! Vihede ie Aaa iaidn: thenthaeaeaiel 1as Ww ame imself, ¢ rely of him, that he holds his L : ae ra". a that Eg! ae confide . won fame for hims¢ lf, and love ly. , ; bt at his‘ anid tock aot} rh by the possession of some | barn a leetle white, but he called out ter sure Oy nq then ence and respect of his officers} Besides her beauty she is said to be an;jher as though y ne | eesti coe . a naga ‘ aroe oe > » i -ean)i 2cret she fears ave maae . ° pan! @ whe redski heiress to a large fortune, he ld in ke eping | secret she fe oe to" se Captain Dick’ Du- Salk? ayia tie “I hag dat tates teak oud Vere } Skins have been taught some | for her by her guardian, Colonel Crandall, Another admirer is_ UV hat : be ate ca ae oat a teak aan as Te ations and kept in check in their} who, a bachelor himself has living with | luth, and all have noticed t rat the dash-|to the ther last stage Bee — ith - y Peace Vions ; it has iaoat seemed like a'him a maiden sister who loves Kate as|ing, gay young captain is in love with | gent, as I has orders, so take my grip ate between pale face and Indian, dearly as though she were her own child, | her, and that it has made a marked) along and hoof it, as it hain’t far.’ 130 GroOoOD “Then he whispered ter me thet ther | taining a pair of handsome revolvers and young feller hed give him ther tip. thet road..agents knew he was along with ther boodle, and was layin’ fer ther coach ten miles on, and thet ther youngster would guide him across kentry to ther fort.” “And Paymaster Godfrey left the coach on this representation?” sternly asked the colonel. |. “He did fer a fact, colonel, and he showed wisdom, fer we was_held up and ther first thing I were asked about were ther paymaster. “IT told ’em he hed been held back fer another coach, and they jist scorched ther paint off ther coach a cussin’.’ é “But do you believe the paymaster will arrive in safety?’ “TI believes I’ll hold winnin’ keerds, colonel, ef I bets he does, fer thet young feller were no slouch.” “You know him, then?” “Never seen him afore, colonel, only his face were one ter tie to.” “T hope your faith in him will be veri- fied, Nelson; but I shall send scouts out to search for them, for if he, being mounted could cut over the range, he should be here now— What is that cheer- ing for, orderly?” Before answer could be made by the orderly, Captain Dick Duluth entered and said quickly, as he turned to two persons who were following him: “Colonel Crandall, permit me to present Mr. Godfrey, our new paymaster, who saved his Government funds of over thirty thousand dollars through our gallant young friend here, Kit, the Unknown.” Colonel Crandall’s greeting of the new paymaster was a rather hasty one, for he stepped quickly forward and grasped the hand of the youth before him, growing rapidly into a tall, handsome young man, while he said with feeling: “My young friend, I am more than glad to see you again, so much so that I shall not scold you for your desertion of us, and continued hiding yourself from us, and now I find you are here as the hero of an- other good service rendered, so permit me to tell you that I hold, and have held for you for more than a year your ae ment by the President_of a cadetship at West Point,” and he added with a smile: “And I am half-inclined, as you are such a Will-o’-the-Wisp, to place you under arrest until you report for duty at West Point.” “No need of that, colonel, for I shall be more than glad to accept the great honor your goodness has bestowed upon me,” was the manly reply of the youth, whose eyes flashed with pride as Colonel Cran- dall continued: “The honor which your services have won for you, sir, not my kindness by any means.” “J thank you, colonel, and report at once for orders, sir,” was the response of the strange youth. “Then to West Point week, Cadet—Cadet “Call me Kit Carey, colonel, please,” and as the boy spoke a strange look of sadness. swept over his face which caused Dick Duluth to mutter: “There is some unfathomable mystery in that boy’s life.” CHAPTER XI. THE COLONEL AND THE CADET. Pier was that about the boy wan- you go within the derer of the frontier, a certain dig- SB. any prying into his inner life. His face saddening as it did, when asked his name, and the manner in which he gave it showed that there was a mys- tery in the boy’s life, some scene in the past which had left its oe upon him, He had changed greatly in the two years which had passed since the night when he so suddenly appeared in the soldiers bivouac at Round Top and told of the am- bush the Indians~ had laid for them in Dead Man’s Canon. His’ face then was full of a devil-I- care expression, and his recklessness has been seen, as also his utter disregard of the dignity of Lieutenant Nevil and his rank, when that officer opposed him and sought to force him to act as his er _ In the two years, in which he had been utterly unknown since he had left the command after the battle, which his cour- age had turned into a victory for the sol- diers, what had been his career no one — 4 oe ‘ e had overtaken the coach driven b Jack Nelson, and politely called to fon § side Paymaster Godfrey, who was attired in civilian’s clothes, and had some bhbag- gage which he never let go away from his side. Paymaster Godfrey beheld a young man who appeared to be about seventeen, with a form that was slender, graceful, and that of an athlete. He wore topboots, his buckskin leggings stuck in them, a corduroy jacket, gray woolen shirt, black scarf neatly tied, and a sombrero pinned up on one side with a gold star. : About his slender waist was a belt con- nity and reserve which prevented 'a bowie, a repeating rifle was swung at his back, and he seemed like part and parcel of his horse, so splendidly did_ he sit in the very elegant Mexican saddle that he straddled. No longer mounted upon a pony, Pard, he bestrode a long-bodied, slender-limbed roan mare full of spirit; endurance and a look of possessing great “ee The face, though youthful, was full of manliness, intelligence, and indomitable will, though, perhaps, a trifle reckless, while it was a very handsome face, too. Such was Kit when he mounted the paymaster upon his horse, made his val- uable gripsacks fast to the back of his saddle, and on foot himself set off for Fort L ; “T will claim Kit as my guest, Colonel Crandall,” said Captain Duluth, after the commandant had told the youth of the honor bestowed upon him. “Very well, Duluth, but I wish a talk with him first,” the colonel answered, and those present took the hint and left the colonel and the youth alone. “Sit down, Kit, for I wish to make some inquiries of you, though I do not wish to appear obtrusive in what I seek to learn regarding you.” “You have a right, sir, to know all pos- sible regarding one who is wholly un- known to you, and for whom you have asked such an appointment as you have honored me with,” was the dignified re- sponse. “Well, my young friend, we will first consider the claims of your appointment. “You risked your life to come to my camp when I, with a small escort, was in danger of utter annihilation at the hands of the redskins, and one other, Miss Os- mond, would have met a fate terrible to contemplate.” “My life, sir, I did not take into con- sideration, for in fact I was never trained to regard death as terrible.” “Well, Kit, your pluck and skill that night saved us from an ambush, then your riding to the fort and bringing aid pre- vented a desperate fight on our part against odds, and when we all deemed you dead, or a prisoner, you were trailing the captors of Miss Osmond and marking the trail for a rescue party to follow. “Next we find you coming back on the trail and leading Captain ‘Duluth to the Indian camp, and again, finding him cor- raled by a large force you observe the trail on which Miss Osmond was sent, and the number with her, while you rush back for aid to Lieutenant Nevil’s com- mand and failing to bring him to Duluth’s aid, you boldly order his subaltern offi- cers there, as though from his superior, and this act not only saved the beseiged soldiers, but set the Indians flying for their village stronghold. “But for you, then, they would still have carried off Miss Osmond, and afterward, from a pretended fear, I say pretended fear of Lieutenant Nevil, you deserted us, and though Surgeon Powell, Wild Bill, Jack Crawford, and also Captain Duluth, have kept up a continued search for you, it was in vain. ; “These facts I reported in a personal let- ter to the President, begging an_appoint- ment-at-large for you to West Point, for ‘gallant services rendered in the field,’ as I said, over a year ago. “Now, you come into the fort on foot, with a United States Army Paymaster riding your horse, and you thus save the Government a loss in money far more than are expenses as a cadet will be, so you ave the satisfaction of knowing that you not only won your cadetship, but also in what you have saved from the road agents more than paid your way to a lieutenancy. “Now, Kit, it is my duty to know some- thing about my protege, for so I consider you,” and the colonel’s piercing eyes were fixed full upon the face of the youth, who after a moment of silence said: “Colonel Crandall, whatever questions you may wish to ask me I will be glad to answer you as far as lies in my power.” “You said that your name was Kit Carey, I believe?” “No, sir, I did not say that such was my name, but that you might call me Kit Carey.” The colonel looked a little surprised, but asked : “But what is your real name?” “T do not know, sir.” “Indeed, can this be possible?” “Tt is possible, sir, and true.” “Are your parents living?” “That I do not know, sir.” “Surely you have some kindred, Kit?” “Not a soul that I know, sir.” “Indeed?” and Colonel Crandall was be- coming more than ever interested in this mysterious youth. “But your friends, can they not tell you about yourself?” “T have no friends, sir—yes, I had two, and one whom I regarded as my father left me one month ago to-day,” and there was a quiver in the voice of the young frontiersman. “Left you, but why?” “He is dead, sir, for I returned from a trail that led me to Texas and found him dying in his cabin of a wound he had re- NEW SBS. — ceived at the hands of a man whom I have ( fessors have it; but, perhaps, your age solemnly sworn to kill,” and in a fierce, | quivering voice that fairly startled Col- onel Crandall, Kit added: “And that oath I shall one day keep, so help me Heaven!” CHAPTER XII, THE CONFESSION, (ESL y ° : Tr ARDLY had Kit uttered his fierce Sed a threat to’ one day keep his vow to ¢ Me take the life of a fellow being, 2> when there glided unannounced into the colonel’s military quarters Kate Osmond, If she had been beautiful as a girl of sixteen, she was truly so now, at eigh- teen, and Kit fairly started as this vision of loveliness appeared before him. “Pardon me, uncle, but I intruded that | for a year before you make the attemphy may be such as to permit you to study Wy and the chaplain here can instruct yous for there must be no failure to go througay on your part, as I have set my heart upoe ; “T have no boys of my own age, sir, to | compare myself with in the little 1 dq know; but I do not think I shall fail, si as my—my father has been a good teachel to me.” } “Your father, you said, was dead?” a “Yes, sir; but I mean my adopted | father.” ae “Ah! and who was he?” < “The one, sir, whom I told Captaij Nevil had instructed me about West Pom life.” “And where is he?” “He died just one month ago, sir.” “The one you vowed to avenge?” ‘sh i] cg I might again meet the boy hero to whom I owe so much—what, can this splendid | looking young man be one and the same | with that little dare-devil Kit who per- formed such wonders on his little pony?” “T am the boy you knew as Kit, Miss Osmond,” and Kit blushed to the roots of his hair. “Well, I came in here intending to kiss you for the sake of auld lang syne, but that is out of the question now I see you, sir,” said Kate Osmond archly, and the youth’s gallant response was: “T am sorry I have grown so large, Miss Osmond.” “Well, I am not, for you can go to West Point and come out a splendid, hand- some soldier, and as little Kit you could! never have done so—there. “But let me again thank you, sir, for your services to me in the past, and which [ can never forget, and through all I shall watch your career with the deepest inter- est, for uncle and I have a claim upon you, or at least we think so,” and the lev- | ity of the girl was gone now, and she spoke .in deepest earnestness. Just then in came the officer of the day —it was Captain Fred Nevil. Kate bowed coldly and glanced at Kit, and she smiled to see that he did not change color, but she could not but note the act of his hand dropping near the butt of his revolver, and it showed her that his life had been one of constant danger. “Ah, Captain Nevil, I have here an old acquaintance whom you will doubtless be glad to congratulate upon his appoint- | ment to West Point,” said Gokat Cran- dall, with a sly smile. “Ah! it is that boy who was so imper- | tinent to me on the day I rescued Miss Osmond,” and Fred Nevil’s manner was anythin but agreeable. “The day this boy as you call him, by disobeying your orders led a platoon of your troop to the rescue of Captain Du- uth, who, thus was enabled, led by this boy to rescue me,” said Kate, with intense sarcasm, and it caused the face of the offi- cer to flush, as he replied: “My conscience has never troubled me, Miss Osmond, for neglect of duty, and es- pecially as the result would have been very different had my troops not been within supporting distance of Captain Du- luth, who was more fortunate than I in having been first sent to the rescue.” “It is too long past to refer to now, Kate, and I desire to present to Captain Nevil my young friend, Mr, Kit Carey, whose services have won him a cadetship at West Roint.” “T have nothing against the boy, for as you say, Colonel Crandall, it is too long past, my little trouble with him, and I wish you success, Carey, though it will be a marvel if you, an ignorant frontier boy can pass through the odds you will have, to face at the Point.” The face of the youth flushed with anger, but in an even tone he returned: “T thank you, Captain Nevil, but I have never counted odds, and I shall not shrink from any ordeal I may meet there, igno- rant border boy though I admit myself to be, and I know something of West Point from one who was there years ago.” “Well said, Mr. Carey, and I am sure you will one day give us all cause to feel proud of you. Do you wish to speak with me particularly, Captain Nevil, for I am, as you see, engaged?” There was that in the colonel’s tone and manner that showed Nevil he was dis- pleased that he should still keep up his quarrel with a boy who had won the es- teem of all others by his skill and courage, and he answered as his face flushed : “A scout has come in, sir, and reports small bands of Indians roving nearer the fort than is agreeable.” : “Very well, I will see him after awhile,” and this meant a dismissal for the officer of the day, which he was not slow in act- ing upon. “T will see you again, Cadet Carey,” said Kate Osmond, pleasantly. “Tam simply Kit, Miss Osmond, for I have no right yet to the title of cadet. I may not pass my examination, you know?” he said, with a smile. “Physically, there will be no doubt of it, Carey; but, of course, I do not know how you stand in ‘book learning’ as the pro- |. “Yes, sir, and I will,” and the ey@s brightened quickly. 4 “But who was this adopted father of yours?” B “T do not know, sir.” “You said that he had been at Point?” “Yes, sir, he graduated there, and afte” ward came to the border as a cavalry lee tenant, but for some reason resigned, left the service and took to the solit@ life of a hunter, while he was also guide, scout, and Indian fighter.” “And still you do not remember bis” name?” “No, sir.” “What did you know him as?” “I fear you will not be pleased with MY” teacher if I tell you, Colonel Crandall and an anxious look came over the face & the youth. i “T cannot understand why not, Kit.” “Is it necessary for me to tell you moe about myself—and him?” ; “You have that which you do not wish to tell, I see?” Ps BT, fe “There are dark scenes in your li : which you do not care to make known. “In my life, no sir,” was the quick rf sponse of the youth, while his face flush® “Then why hesitate to tell me of you past, Kit?” “On his account, sir.” 1 “Ah! but you must remember that ¥% cannot go to West Point under false P tenses.” il) “Then, sir, I will tell the truth, W west tell you that my adopted father was " man you know as the Red Hermit of t Black Hills!” a “My God! that man,” cried Colo? Crandall, with almost a look of ho upon his stern, handsome face. CHAPTER XIII. KIT’S SECRET. RHE youth did not move at the @% 2. clamation of the colonel, who Boost at him with a look of pity, ali reproach, and then passed to att! fro his face clouded by what he had b | At last Kit asked: pat | “Colonel Crandall, may I ask you W™ ~ _ you know of the Red Hermit?” rds “I can tell you in avery few WG Carey, for he is a red-handed fiend, Wa. has been outlaw, road agent, and Tag ade, allying himself with Indians, 85 “49 Jiamond Dan that treacherous gul OAs ied upon his own race—in truth, be een a merciless monster.” the The boy smiled, to the surprise of officer, and said: tell “Please, sir, sit down and let mé you of the man you deem a monster. is Colonel Crandall silently dropped it ‘chair, and Kit began: tpet | “What the name of my adopted f@ ye was I do not even know, sir, for he 2@ — even told me. pad “But from him I learned that he vest been an army officer, graduating at eft Point long years ago, and af terward § i ing as a lieutenant on the border. ow “Why he left the army I do not i a or how he left it, for he never told Mat but I know that he met with some Sip sorrow, suffered since deep wrong mes made him revengeful and he ett man? is ays to avengiDs hermit, living away from all and devoting his wrong.” “Upon whom?” “The Sioux, and acertain few whom he had inscribed in his doom as he called it, and which I never 8@ contents of.” ‘ans “Why, he was the ally of the Ind! | “No, Colonel Crandall.” poh, | | “But I have heard so a hundred # An | “Colonel Crandall, since I was Oc child I have lived with him, and I oi nit? bet fi. a i that he was the cruelest foe the red ever had.” “This is remarkable.” neh “Do you remember how the Gove! qi wagon train under Captain Van DO warned one night of danger by a My, ous man who called to them from & of a cliff?” i “Yes, Il heard of that.” P “It was the Red Hermit, 8% ! m ie : e of nore jife . CGooDpD NEWS. isl Warned them, and time and again he has left notices of warning pinned upon the stockade gates of the, frontier outposts, Ziving warnings of the intentions of the redskins, and when heeded there was Many a life saved.” “Il know that such pepers haye been found, and were considered reliable.” “Yes, sir, and many a scout found them Who never told of it, but gave the in- formation as though he had made the dis- covery.” “I believe that such was found to be the case in one instance, where a scout was killed and the paper found upon him.” The warnings left the past two Pa eo Upon your stockade, sir, 1 have left, as also have left others at other outposts—here Is the list, sir,” and the boy handed the Colonel a slip of paper. € examined it closely, and said with a mystified look: Yes, some of these I have, others were Teported by scouts; but those now in my Possession are in this handwriting.” ‘The were reliable, sir, were they not?” co ectly so; but whose writing is th «Mine, sir.” hen permit me to say that you write 4 most excellent hand, Carey, exce'lent.” ank you, sir; but as the Red Hermit &ave warnings of danger, and also discov- ered much of the information which I &ave, it proves that he was not the ally, Of redskins, but their foe.” So it would prove, but then the stories about him?” He never let it be known, sir, that Scouts often stole his information pla- Carded, and never did he defend himself against any charge, for he shunned his fel- Ow-men. Ihave known him to give warning of an attack of Indians upon a settlement, and then have heard him, when I after- Ward visited the settlements accused of cing the renegade who led them to the attack, I have known him to give warning to 4 Coach of an attack by road agents, “as I ave also done, and these very outlaws ave spread the rumor that the Red ermit was the chief of the band.” Baa! now I begin to see the situation, m ey; but your story interests me im- ensely, so pray continue.” aut ave nothing more to tell you, sir, of na Much abused Red Hermit, other than Say that all I have told is the truth, AY upon my honor he was guiltless of a hg more than avenging certain wrongs me the Indians and a few pale faces ho had wronged him. Pa But all deeds done, when the guilty €s could not be found were eae upon could ead of one who was doing all he cused Bir, Brotect the very ones who ac- Ts There can be much truth in this, Carey. the f. readily understand. now that I know «ects ; but now tell me of yourself.” ave little to tell, sir, more than that + se the civil war broke out the Hermit, the 28,2 Southerner, left his retreat on . northern frontier and went to Texas ~2m the Confederate Army. one © Was camping upon the prairie alone counten in the midst of the Comanche before Bin en a horse suddenly appeared Teyol eee ting a foe he sent a bullet from a spru ver into the brain of the animal, and his 22. © grapple with the rider when to hag Surprise he found two children who ‘the pen hastily bound upon the back of ww lorse, lek’ of those children was a boy about more a lac the ane a girl hardly ; ens the boy, sir, and I was enveloped about Man’s great, coat, which was tied vp in me one the baby girl was wrapped Shé yas t e aa and bound, as I was, to = paged boy, and you recall this?” » Slr, thoug 7as as , horse ie tt ugh I was asleep when our Y father, I it t u , | suppose it was, put us rote horse, for our camp was attacked that Manches, and the scene of horror of mind afr’ Seems to have driven from my but it 1 that occurred in my life before ; happ Comes to me like a dream, of a Ney iy, home and loved ones, a long jour- ror whineeons and then the night of hor- the dist. Shut out all other memories of Sir, ae, Hermit cared most tenderly for us, Coat a finding in the pocket of the over- off, but etter, the top of which was torn and end Which began ‘Dear Kittredge,’ the na ed yours ever, Carey,’ he gave me “ ate of Kittredge Carey.” fully.” I see,” said the colonel, thought- Clasps b the little girl’s dress were arm handk Caring the name ‘Violet,’ and a 3 alert about her neck bore the th lolet. Earl,’ so he called her by at name,” “ Was she your sister?” Older ’ te I re sister I remember 8 ; oes Rotten her eae » but I think I have for his 14°. lermit gave us some food, and 8 blankets, and the next day; while we rode his horse he walked, following the to cut the dead animal’s throat, which he trail of the animal that had brought us|did, and then went up to see Old Cook, there. “We found the scene, sir, a wrecked train and a number of graves, for some one had been there already with good hearts and buried the dead; but the graves the Hermit opened, and what he found of interest he took with him. “At the ranch of a good man and woman who had no children he left little Violet, as I remembered; but I begged to go with him and he took me.” “Where?” “Into the Confederate Army with him, sir, boy though I was, and through the whole struggle I was with him. “Thrice he was wounded, and I, too, was wounded, for I became the bugler of a cavalry regiment, and always went into action. “Again and again my adopted father was offered promotion but refused firmly, and wholly unknown by those he had served so weli, he came to the Northwest frontier again at the close of the war, and began his Indian hunting again. “He secured the things he had found at the scene of massacre in Texas and hidden away, and we made our home in the Black Hills, “He it was, sir, who taught me to trail, to scout and fight Indians, and he was wont to say that one day I would be a rich man, and he wished to make a soldier of me. “He hinted that he had found a gold mine, but that we had no need of money yet, but some day he would tell me all I ought to know. “Nearly a year ago he sent me upona mission to Texas for him, and it was long before I accomplished it. “I went upon my little pony Pard, but he was killed in a skirmish I had with Indians, and I loved my brute pard so, colonel, that I buried him. “Upon my return I found my father dying from a wound. “He could barely tell me who was his murderer and hear my vow to avenge him, when he died.” “And this man you know?” “Yes, sir, as Diamond Dan, the Rene- ” ade. ene But the Hermit told you the secret about your birth?” “Nothing, sir, though he left papers so hidden that I could not find them, or Dia- mond Dan secured them. “T buried him, sir, near our cabin, and then decided to come here and ask for a position as scout, for as long as the Her-- mit lived I would not desert him. “On my way I was ambushed by road agents, but telling them who I was they got me to join them, as they believed, and thus I was enabled to save Paymaster Godfrey. “Now, Colonel Crandall, you know my secret, and all I have told you is in strict- ee Will you not so hold it, sir “Certainly, if so you demand it, Carey; | but it is your duty to = and find your kindred, and I will do al help you.” “Thank you, sir, and some day I will,” was the firm response of the brave boy. (TO BE CONTINUED.) i a ed ON LAND AND SEA; Califia in the Years 1840’, 44 and ’4, By WILLIAM H. THOMES, Author of ‘The Gol -Hunters of Australia,” ‘The Bushrangers,” ‘‘The Gold-Hunters in Europe,” ‘Life in the East Indies,” ‘‘A Slaver’s Adven- tures,” “Running the Blockade,” ‘-A Whale- man’s Adventures,’ ‘‘The Belle of Australia,” etc., in my power to sae (“On LAND AND SEA” was commenced in No. 3. Back rumbers can be obtained of all News Agents.] CHAPTER III.—(Continued.) HE rancheros sat down, lighted cigar- the ettes, and smoked quite composedly. Yt) Mr. Davidson took an ax, and called “7 to me to come and hold the poor thing’s head, but Lewey and I were ex- amining the trained mustangs, and wish- ing we could ride them, and have a scamper over the hard beach, stretch- ing all around the bay to Santa Cruz, so pretended not to hear him. We did not like the job, and were ready to decline it without thanks. But Old Jones volunteered his services, and we heard a crunching sound, but did not turn our heads, for it made us sick, but before we left. the coast we got accus- tomed to such things. For a boy who wanted to be a pirate, and make the old man walk the plank, Lewey had rather a sympathetic heart, and didn’t mean to be cruel, or hurt anything, if he could avoid it. Then the denshovde mounted their horses, and said that they would be down at the same hour next Sunday, with a lively bul- lock for us, They advised Mr. Davidson Ff liquor, and Jones and English Jack said they must have a drink of water and went up and asked Cook where it could be obtained, and when they returned Jones that he would like todo it; and English Jack stated as his candid opinion that the country was not worth a copper, except the rum, which was good, and also said that he was the best sailor on board the any job, alow or aloft. not be rated even as an ordinary seaman on board of some ships he had sailed in. Just as they were going in for a fight, the second mate said they must stop quarrel- ing, and strip the “two” bullocks on the beach, and take them on board without delay, and so we went to work on the “one” and did the job after a fashion, for we had to be very careful and not cut the skin, as hides were worth one dollar and a half in cash, and two dollars in trade on board the ship. We skinned out the tallow, for tallow was a merchantable article in California, at the time, and so many pounds could be exchanged for so many Fides, the grease roing to Callao, or Chili, or the Sandwich slands, where it was needed more than skins, and we even saved the heart, liver, and tripe, nice little tid-bits for the cabin, and the Mexicans who dined there. After the beef was dressed, the second mate had it loaded into the boat, and then told Lewey and me that we could run up and see the town for just ten minutes, and we went with arush. We saw some of our men in Cook’s grog-shop, and the shouted to us to come and have a drink with them. We declined the invitation, and they were not offended at the refusal, as we were boys; but had we been mess- mates they would have felt slighted, and expressed a desire to fight, and punch our heads. We took a hurried look at the town, around the plaza, in a straggling, discon- nected sort of manner, all of adobe, and thatched. Most of them were of one story, place, were quite pretentious, and had upper rooms. We saw the governor for the time being, Don Juan B. Alvarado, sitting at a window, in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a cigar, and a sentry was pacing before his door, musket in hand, to keep people at a distance. church, and we saw that two or three In- ee all the noise they could, regard- less of harmony. They were calling the = to church, before the real serious usiness of the day was commenced, such as cock-fighting, horse-racing, and bull- fighting. The Monterey people went in for keeping the Sabbath in the real old Spanish style. Religion first, and then secular pursuits, such as were calculated to calm the mind, and impress the public that a benevolent government was watch- ing over the rights of the — and giv- ing them their money’s worth; but as no one paid taxes, if it could be avoided, it did seem as if the Mexicans ought to be happy, and not get up a revolution every few months, for the sake of the few hundred dollars that hide-droghers paid into the public treasury in the shape of duties, and cheated the custom house au- thorities outrageously at that, not half of the cargoes being entered as a general thing. Even in our ship, concealed under fifty or sixty tons of salt, stowed in bulk, were valuable articles, kept out of sight until brought to light at San Diego, where we 'anded the salt, and took in stone bal- last in its place. Lewey and I had but little time to look at the strange sights, and the Indians, icturesquely dressed; that is to say, with ong, black coarse hair, hanging down their backs, and a small piece of cloth around their loins. In the houses of the foreign residents there was some show of comfort, but few of the native Californians cared for nice beds, or good clean cooks and food, and articles necessary to set a table. The most refined family on the whole coast, of Spanish descent, and who were ladies and gentlemen in all that appertained to social and domestic life, was that of Don Noriego, of Santa Barbara, and I shall have much to say of him and his youngest daughter, whom I several times had the pleasure of carrying in my arms through the surf, and I Oa her then the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen in the world, and still have the same opinion as a man that I had as a boy. She was unmarried at the time, and not more than fifteen years of age. I often wonder if she is alive, and retains a por- ‘tion of that beauty, so glorious and noble as in 1843, when I saw her, on the beach of and tell him not to sell our men any} said that he could lick every Mexican on | the whole coast, one after the other, and Admittance, and could turn his hand to | That made Jones | mad, and he intimated that Jack would | and found that the houses were built | with tiles on the roof to keep out the rain, | but the residences of the poorer class were | but Mr. Larkin’s, and the governor’s | Just as we reached the plaza, there was | a wild, discordant clash of bells, which | were hung on a frame in front of the} dians were pulling at the tongues, and '§ ' Santa Barbara, ready to go off to our ship, and pass the day in trading. But let us return to Lewey and myself. We finally dodged the man-of-war’s men, and our own crew, fast. getting in fight- ing trim, and drinking more aguardiente, at one real a glass, than was good for them. On our return to the boat, we were stopped by an old, neatly dressed Scotch woman, a resident of the place, who in- vited us to enter her house, near Cook’s, and gave us some milk, and then sold me a champagne bottle full of the same for two reals, or at the rate of twenty-five cents a quart, and it was cheap at that price, for the vender had to first catch the cow, tie her head and heels, and then milk the best way she could. It was no small task, as a Vermont farmer can well imagine. We carried the bottle to the boat, and when Jones and Jack saw it they wanted to take it away from us, under the impres- sion that it contained liquor for strong men, instead of milk for babies, and their disgust was extreme when they learned what its contents really were. ‘They had no love for milk. We pulled on board, and hoisted in the meat, and had some boiled for dinner, and after that, unless we were at sea, had fresh beef for breakfast, and the noonday meal, until we longed for salt junk, as the epi- cure desires a new dish to satisfy his sated palate. In the afternoon the captain dressed in his best clothes, put on his white beaver hat, always reserved for great occasions, the quarter-boat was called away, and we ulled him on shore. Then he gave us our | first instruction in landing through surf, | and we soon improved on the lesson, but |it was cold work, as the water was like |ice, and we had to go bare-footed, as no | leather could stand the wear. As evening drew on, that first Sunday, we went on shore for the old man and | Cushing, and, as we waited on the beach, ;}our pinnace landed to take the libert | men on board, and down they came, with the sailors of the Dale, all roaring drunk, and defiant of discipline and order. I must confess that we boys enjoyed the | excitement, for it was something new to hear men give back answers to their offi- cers, and to tell them that they could have a good stand-up fight if they wanted |one, while the truth was not one sailor out of a dozen could walk upright with- out support. Our men were not quite as bad as the | Dale’s crew, but there was an immense |}amount of embracing and slobbering over each other, and the naval officers were | very patient, all things considered. At | last the sailors were stowed away in the cutters, and then there was another fight, and so the boats were pulled toward the ship, and our men were helped in the pin- |nace, before the captain came down. He had heard of the row, and looked a little cross, as though he had hoped for better — on the first liberty day on shore in California. When we got on board, and hoisted up the boats, the crew were all quiet, for Mr. Prentice had sent the drunken men to the forecastle, and kept them out of sight of the old man. The mate knew what sail- ors were capable of, as soon as removed from all restraints and discipline, and did not blame them as much as he might have done had he been master of the vessel, and felt the whole responsibility on his should- ers for the success of the voyage. But what had grieved Captain Peterson the most, as I could tell by his face, was to have his beloved white beaver hat in- sulted. He took pride in that hat. He had bought it as a mark of respectability, in Boston, just before we sailed, and tended it with care during all the passage, and had mounted it only on the occasion of the visit to the slaver. This Sunday he had worn it on shore, and felt proud of it, for there was not another such sombrero in all California, so fresh, so fluffy, the fur turning in all directions at every puff of air, and all the Mexican senoritas had ad- mired it, and passed their little brown hands over the sides, and wondered how it was put together, and all the senors had made remarks about that hat, and had examined and asked the price of it, for it was so ment and airy that it took their fancy, and many would have ordered like styles had there been a stock on hand to select from. But there was not, and so the old man was pleased, because he was all alone in his new fashion. Imagine then his surprise and disgust, as we were pull- ing off that night, and passed one of the Dale cutters, the sailors still fighting, to have the man-of-war’s men stop their pugilistic encounters, and yell out, at the top of their voices: “Trice up that hat, and make a wind- sail of it, cap’n.” And then another sailor, in defiance of orders from a midshipman, cried out: “Take a double reef in that sombrero, cap’n, or you’ll carry away pa bobstay,” and all the boat’s crew laughed so heartily that the oarsmen caught crabs, and tumbled into the bottom of the cutter, and had to be helped up, as they could not assist themselves very readily, cr T SSaS PE SES = arte 1s2 The old man’s eyes flashed. If the sail- ors had belonged to his own ship he would have waded in, and. flogged every one of them single handed, for there were but few men whocould stand before him when he was in his prime. Now he had to sub- mit to the insults, and, although Lewey was nearly bursting, he wanted to. laugh so much, we managed to keep sober faces, as the captain said: E “Give vay, lads, and get out of hearing of dese unmanly cubs,” and we bent to our oars, and left the cutter to continue its slow course toward the Dale, fighting and quarreling still going on. The next morning all hands were called at five o’clock, to wash down the decks, and the men who had been on shore the day before, with aching heads, and lan- uid steps, were compelled to go to work Tike the rest of us. Still they boasted of the jolly time they had had, and how they would like some more of the same sort as soon as possinle. Just as eight bells were struck on board of the Dale, and our own ship, Mr. Pren- tice saw an Irish pennant on the star- board lift of the maintopsail yard. It was not more than two or three inches long, but the quick eye of the mate had caught sight of it, and he sent me aloft to remove it, and see if the lift wanted new “serv- -ing.” : I went up the rigging at a leisurely pace, for I was fast becoming accustomed to asailor’s life, and, just as I straddled the yard-arm, I saw a commotion on board the Dale. She was lying not more than a third of a cable’s-length from the Admit- tance, and, as there was‘ not a breath of air, and the sun was shining quite bright- ly, I could took down from my lofty posi- tion on the guns of the man-of-war, and see all that was going on. Officers were mustered on the quarter- deck, in full uniform, with swords by their sides, and stood in groups, and talked in low tones, while the men were gathered on the top-gallant forecastle, around the foremast, the booms, and the launch. They looked very solemn, and there was no skylarking going on, or loud talk. The sailors glanced anxiously to- ward their superiors, as though to read the expression of their faces, and judge what was passing in their minds. Something of a serious nature was to take place, but what it was I could not divine. No one was dead, for the ensign was not half-masted, but fluttered at -the peak as a light puff of air from the shore touched its snicotat folds, and then passed on, and left it listless as before. Suddenly up to the foremast head went a flag, and I heard Mr. Prentice call to the second mate, who was below with a gang of men, and say: “Come on deck, Mr. Davidson, The Dale has hoisted a flag for punishment, and we can see it all. to catch it this morning for yesterday’s drunk.” The flag meant that no strange boats or visitors were- allowed alongside until it yas lowered. Outsiders were not wanted just then. Suddenly the boatswain of the ship step- ed into the waist, put his silver pipe to is mouth, uttered a shrill “tweet, tweet, tweet,” and then shouted: “All hands muster aft to witness pun- ishment. Tumble up from below, and be lively about it. Do you hear?” Some of the sailors were to be tied up, and flogged, and I wanted to see the affair, if I could, so kept still, and waited for the cruel work to commence. I had read of such specimen eae but never wit- nessed it on shipboard. It was brutal and horrible, but it was the custom of the navy, and merchant vessels also, at that time, and continued until the law stopped it some years ago. CHAPTER IV. PUNISHMENT ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR. { t HE boatswain had hardly uttered ~ his shrill pipe, and hoarse shout of: “All hands muster aft to witness unishment,” than the two boat- swain’s mates, on each side of the launch, repeated the disagreeable cry, sounding their a very shrilly for several sec- onds. Then the crew, after a moment’s hesitation, surged aft, as far as the main- mast, and there halted, while the soldier- like marines paraded the quarter-deck, near the capstan, and stood like statues, with their muskets at a carry, and when the captain of the ship came on the poop they presented arms as one man, and then returned to their old position, and kept their eyes on the sailors, as though the feared that the latter would make a sud- den rush, and wrench the muskets and bayonets from their hands, and take pos session of the ship, which they might have done had not fear of those in authority kept them under subjection. resently there was a stir among the sailors, and the master-at-arms, with his assistants, came on deck, and led aft two men, whom I had seen drunk and fighting the evening before, on shore and in the cutter. One of the prisoners was a young Some of the men haye got | GrooD fellow, not more than eee years of age, an American, and the other was an English man-of-war’s man, a person about thirty-five, with a hard-looking face, and devil-may-care air, as though he had no shame for the position in which he found himself placed, while the American seemed a little abashed, and sorry for what he had done. - I saw the captain open a paper, and read from it, and I supposed it was the articles of war. Then he said a few words which l could not hear, waved his hand, turned and walked aft, and seemed to be looking across the bay, as though the scene on deck had no attraction for him; but it had great interest for me, and I was glad that Mr. Prentice had forgotten my exist ence for the moment. The master-at-arms and his assistants hurried the American sailor to the grat- ings at the main rigging, and then some one said, in a harsh voice, one single word, and that was: “Strip!” The sailor slowly pulled off his blue flannel shirt, as though he did not care for the job, and then his belt was re- moved, so that the trousers» would fall well down on his hips, and the man’s white flesh was aapaeolt to view. “Seize him up,” was the cruel command, and the man’s wrists were secured to the gratings, the arms stretched up, and wide apart, making a spread eagle of the man, and then his ankles were fastened, and the sailor was helpless, and at the mercy of the captain. “Boatswain’s mate, give the man one dozen,” was the stern command, and then many of the officers looked up aloft, or in any direction but toward the spot where a human being was to be punished like a brute, just because he had drank some of the accursed shore aguardiente which Old Cook had furnished him. One of the boatwain’s mates, a power- ful man, stepped forward, ran this fingers through the several tails of his cruel cat, then retreated a step, and looked at the officer who appeared to be giving orders. One of the lieutenants who had turned his back to the scene, caught sight of me, erched on the yard, and made a motion for me to “lie down,’ but I was not under his authority, and so refused to stir. I wanted to see all that there was to be seen like the boy at the bull fight. “Do your duty, boatswain’s mate,” the | captain said, in a cold, stern tone. The petty officer. raised his terrible cat, and let it fall a dozen times, with cruel force on the bare back of the sailor, and I saw blood follow each blow, and large, red ridges appeared on the skin. As the last blow struck his quiverin flesh, he was overcome by agony, an fainted. “Cast him loose,” was the stern com- mand, and then the master-at-arms severed the lashings, and the unconscious sailor fell into the arms of his asistants. The surgeon of the ship stepped for- ward, and felt the man’s pulse. He was silent for a moment, turned to the cap- tain, saluted, and said something in a low tone. The captain waved his hand, the fainting man’s shirt was thrown over his shoulders, bruised and bleeding, and then he was led forward. “Next,” cried a stern voice, and the master-at-arms appeared with the second person to be samlehes. an Englishman, as [ have said, an old man-of-war’s man, yet young in years. He had asmile on his ips, as he faced the quarter-deck, and all the officers, as though he did not care for them, or the disgrace which he had brought upon himself. “Drunkenness and fighting,” said the ’ pe “One dozen. Strip!” ‘he fellow pulled off his shirt with an air of profound indifference, as coolly as if he was about to turn infor the night, with the prospect of a good sleep before him. He tossed his shirt to a messmate, removed his leather belt, so that his trousers would drop down to the hips, and then I could see that the man’s back was already seamed and scarred, by previous punishment, before he had deserted from the English service, and entered the American navy. “Seize him up,” was the command, and the fellow was made a spread eagle of, as the previous man had been. “Boatswain's mate, do your duty, and if you spare him I’ll disrate you,” was the encouraging order. The second boatswain’s mate stepped forward, a very powerful man, six feet tall, all bone and muscle. He looked as though capable of knocking down a bul- lock. He ran his bony fingers through the tails of the cat in a dainty manner, like a lady playing with her lover's curls, or the ear of her favorite dog, and drew back his powerful right arm. L s This victim took his punishment with- out a groan or murmur, although at the twelfth stroke his back was bleeding in forty places, “Cut him down,” was the command, and, as the sailor was relieved, he act- ually turned and smiled at the officers, took his shirt from his messmate’s hands, NEWS. and then once more faced the commander. “Go forward, and don’t let me hear of your drinking and fighting again,” the captain said. “If do you will get four dozen the next time instead of one. Pipe down, boatswain.” The pipes sounded, the men ranged for- ward, talking of the pluck of one man, and the weakness of the other, but all agreeing that it was very hard to flog a man for having a good time, and getting drunk, while the commissioned _ officers could be parbuckled on board, full of wine and rum, and not a word of condemnation would fall from the lips of those in com- mand. Then at eight bells, or twelve o'clock, noon, the boatswain’s pipes sounded, shrill and long, and I could hear the hoarse cry of: “Grog, oh, grog! Tumble aft, and splice the main brace,” for in those days rum was served out to the men every day, at twelve o’clock, and sometimes oftener, especially when hard work was performed, such as reefing topsails, and in heavy gales, and cold weather. The two men had been punished for drinking, and in three hours and a’ half after they were cut down, they could mus- ter aft, and take their gill of liquor. All were expected to drink it at the tub, or carry it off in tin pots, and trade it away with messmates for tobacco or clothing. I have known man-of-war’s men to purchase exemption from punishment by giving a shipmate a month’s allowance of grog, to confess that the real perpetrator of a crime was innocent, and the innocent guilty. But all of this time I had sat a-straddle of the maintopsail yard, and been forgotten. Iwas dizzy and sick at heart, after wit- nessing the scene on the Dale. From my stupor I was aroused by the stern voice of the mate: “You Thom,” he shouted, “what the duse are you doing up there all of this time? Have you gone to sleep? Lay down on deck, and be lively about it.” I knew Mr. Prentice was just shouting for effect, and that he had permitted me to remain aloft so that I could witness the punishment, but the old man had come on deck, and it was necessary to make a show of being alive and active. “Ay, ay, sir, just coming down,” I an- swered, and, as I gained the deck, the captain, with a look on his face of the deepest disgust, was saying: “Mr. Prentice, get de pinnace under de bows, and put a kedge in her, and fifty fathoms of line. Den man de windlass, and up anchor. Ve vill kedge avay from dat floating torture house. She vill cor- rupt all of my mens in less den a veek,” and we did run out a line, and kedge away from the Dale, taking up a position a little nearer the custom house, and half a cable’s-length farther from the national ship, the first time in the history of the merchant marine that a trading vessel had to shift her anchorage for fear of the corrupting influence of a man-of-war, and an American one at that. The reason the Dale’s crew were so irre- pressibly ugly, and regardless of disci- pline, was because the time of most of the men was out, and they should have been homeward bound long before, but were compelled to wait for the United-States ship Ceynne, from Mazatland, and she was expected every day. California was even then considered as too important to be entirley deserted by our national ships, and given up to the English, who were making great exertions to win the good will of the Mexicans, but did not succeed. Our agents regarded the advice they had received from the State Department: “Be anything and everything so that you keep out the English until we are ready to take the country,” for the Mexican war was even then brewing, and was only a ques- tion of months, as was expected at the time, but was ea for several months, for certain politics politicians can even now answer and ex- plain. But, as though the heavens desired to frown upon the flogging scene, the sun be- came obscured after twelve o'clock, black clouds passed over us, the wind piped in fitful gusts from the northeast, and drops of rain began to fall, to the intense de- light of Chips, who brought his nine three-gallon demijohns on deck, so as to be all ready in case there was a shower, and he rubbed his hands, laughed and joked, as the drops fell thick and fast, and said: ” (TO BE CONTINUED.) 0 Marvelous Spinners. ZA%; SPIDER has four little bags of \\; thread, such little bags! In every +s bag there are more than a thou- sand holes, such tiny, tiny holes! Out of each hole thread runs, and all the threads—more than four thousand—she spins together as they run, and when they are all spun they make but one thread of the web she weayes. There is a member of the family that is herself no bigger than a grain of sand. Imagine what a slender web she makes, and of that, too, each thread is made of four or five thou- reasons, which Texas, sand threads, that have passed out of her four bags through four or five thousand of the tiniest holes. What must our very finest lace look like to one of those mar- velous spinners? ‘A Shio Really Haunted, eames By GEORGE H. COOMER. —_——~e— ci JMP ship!” was the third mate’s “ salutation to the larboard watch, ‘ LNs as that. institution came tumbling “ on deck, the Atlantic, meanwhile, pitching into an ugly sea off Ceylon. It was at the change of the monsoon, a _ sea- son when the weather is unsually rough. “There it is again,” said English Dick, “ “pump ship! pump ship!’ we is in for it. For the next twenty months you’ll ‘ear nothing else. If there’s hanything as [ ’ates it’s a leaky ship. Now you’ll "ardly ever find one o’ them Hinglish ships as leaks.” “An’ faix, now,” said Mike, the Queens- town man, “I doesn’t know about the twinty months, aither. If this old corn- basket should open a little widther, we might walk on the botthom in twinty minutes! An’ why didn’t ye shtop in an English ship, then?” ““Tain’t a steady leak,” said Ormsbee, the carpenter, a fatherly old fellow. “’Twas just this way when we caught that blow off the Isle of France. A stead leak comes from some bolt-hole or ba place in a seam; but a leak like this shows that the ship is starting some of her fas- tenings. You don’t know what to expect from such a leak; you don’t know when she may spring a plank or start a butt; and a chap can’t turn in and feel easy.” The Atlantie, being a sperm whaler. with twenty-three men, we were enabled with little difficulty to keep her free. After twice pumping her out, we went be- low, leaving to our shipmates of the other watch a choice of alternatives, such as four hours previous they had left to us— “pump or sink,” “An’ now,” said Mike, as we tumbled into our bunks, “that’s a bad lake, it is. I wouldn’t be hove to in her now in @ sou’wester off the cape for a far-rm. She lakes worse nor the old Chariot, when she played the thrick on us on the nor’- west. Ye’s know the Chariot is as tight as a bottle—she wouldn’t lake if ye’s ‘uw boor a hole in her! “One day on the nor’west, we’d been trying out an old hunthred and sixty bar- rel chap, and afther we got through, the captain spoke to the mate, a big Dutch- man, and told him to thry the pumps, for there might be the laist dhrop in the ship. Well, thin—you would have thought the whole Pacific Ocean was coming wu through the old Chariot’s bottom. e pumped, and pumped, and pamnpees an, thin Misther Von Reppel went down an yold the old man that the ship had sprung alake. “ “Pump ae says he, and he seemed to be glad of it. An old villain he was, that would make us scour the anchor flukes when we got out of wor-rk. ‘Pump away!’ says he. “So we pumped, and pumped, and asl was saying, I thought all the salt ocean was coming wid its whales and shar-rks- But be somewhere along about daybrea we freed her; and for two wakes she was as dhry asa man without a sixpence t0 buy a dhrink! The next time we cut in & whale the same thing happened; and _ 80 again and again for four months, till I think we pumped out more water than runs round Cape Hor-rn, “The quarest of it was that the ship had no lake at all unless it suited her com vaynience, and that was when we h cut in whale, and didn’t want to be bothered with pumping the ocean dbry; Well, thin, and sure we thought the devil must be haunting us wid some big sort 0 an auger. “But the sacret came out by accident One day on the nor’west, we'd been thry- ing out a big old chap, and, in coorse, the ship sprung alake. TH was bitther cold, and the deck was shlippery be the com panion way, and Mishter Von Reppel— pretty shquare-built, he was—slipped Oe the cabin stairs. ‘Tung, tung, tung, hear-rd him go from stair to stair. Fat and heavy he was, and I wouldn wondther but he shtruck har-rd. He slid to the middle iv the cabin, and brought up wid his legs down a scuttle that the captain had opened in the flure. “There was the old man letting water in the ship wid one of thim conthrivance? that some vessels have unthernaith. 4 there he was, very shtill and qui't— dhrowning us, the divil! It was all taize us—all to make us wor-rk, though ye told the mate he only wanted to wash 0U the ship afther cutting in. Divil belav® him, the old scoundrel !” : “Well, that was one way of getting at # secret. So the Dutchman went down by the run!” said big Ben, to whom the ma? i a us bs aa es wae. Soe eee te a ee et oe ee ee ed a ee ea © rteevrecrermee \ eeeroo i -men a GOOD NEWS. 13s ‘ner of the mate’s fall seemed the most amusing part of the story—and he laughed through the tobacco smoke that rolled from his bunk. “Be the run? Ye may say it. He did now!” replied Mike. “I left’ the old dug- out at Oahu, without acint for my ser- wah and what is moor, I didn’t get it ~ Of course not,” said Ben. “If you cut from a ship that’s your lookout.” here she gets it!” exclaimed Morely, who occupied an “athwart ships” bunk, away up in the eyes of the full built old wha eman. “Bowsprit under, I guess, that time. Here comes the water down ie back of my berth.” From Greenland’s icy mountains, from India’s coral strand,” ” murmured Phillips, a broken-down minister, whom We had picked up on Maritius, now rest- Ing on his elbow, in his bunk. “I say, Pay», that’s been running in my head ay. “So it has in’ mine,” answered Morely, Whilom a country lawyer, who had taken refuge in that usual “bring up” of ruined Professionals, a Yankee whaleship—taken Tefuge, as it were, from himself. “So it a in mine,” he said, putting his pipe Carefully up at the head of his berth and alling ‘back so that only his nose_re- Mained visible. “Did you see that idol on the shore? Our boat pulled in close to It this morning, chasing that calf whale. ere was an elephant, too, away up on he high ground—a real wild elephant—I | Saw him shake his ears at us. Hindostan! | : Lg | kept the same relative position. s 8 just as you say, Phillips; it makes unday schools and Greenland icy moun- @ins run in a fellow’s head.” Vhat though the spicy breezes blow Boft o er Ceylon’s isle,” muttered Phillips, om his berth. umeOt So very soft, either,” said Morely. here’s an ugly sea on—here comes the Water through the upper works again—the Monsoon freshens. Well, well, shut up St peepers, Phillips—’twill be all hands mane, topsails before eight bells. No use Inking of camp meeting now. What is old Ceylon, what is India’s coral strand, th Dick and Mike there? Asleep, ain’t ey? Well, why not be like them? It’s oe Imagination, I know. Let it drop, Phillips. That hymn, though, of Heber’s 1S always in my mind while we are cruis- ‘ng on this coast, but what the devil’s the me Ty six years’ experience of life be- Ore the mast serves only to convince me Eo man can’t get rid of his education. t it erop, Phillips. What did the old man say about going into that little river whgone er to overhaul the ship?” ai aid he’d go—bother! there, Morely, I idn’t know I was half asleep. I thought Somebody called all hands.” An indistinct Word or two followed, and then Phillips SNored outright. midnight our watch was again Called, and after we had once more Re out the ship, to and fro beside the eet ner bulwarks, talking of the romantic 4nd whose coast dimly rose on our lee, I Tamped between the sailor-lawyer and € red-shirted minister. Tramp, tramp, Tamp, from the windlass-bits to the Mainmast and from the mainmast to the . Windlass-bits—tramp, tramp, tramp—and € conversation of my eccentric but schol- arly shipmates, seemed like the soul of ofesle, even there on the rude maindeck b & whaleman. For months they had een temperate from necessity, and now h € vicinity of storied shores seemed to oN awakened the gentle feelings of tter days. not daybreak we bore away for the small th €r of which Morely had spoken; for ere the captain had determined to over- ful the ship. The water along the coast ou eylon is very bold, and often during hal cruise we had stood on till within alf & mile of the shore—now and then utt Ing sight of a Hindoo idol standing th erly apart from any temple save only © forest that shadowed the Bengalian ane Soon we were snugly moored in the dep a—the water, three fathoms in ang being fully sufficient for the ship; trees 1ote with tackles attached to the ai €8, we hove her down, when it was slinovered that two of the planks having oe ently sprung from their fastenings, hac Casioned the leak. let er giving the fine little ship a com- Sea, € overhauling, we once more stood out to sub; I think it was about the third day Ata quent, that a white squall threw the aah o- her a ends, aa the coney 3 On deck not being properly secured, . lost them. There was a good supply, Wever, in the hold, and on the follow- bee evening, Mike Conolley, finding the Waret empty, went down the main hatch- i to bring up a quantity for himself rush he watch. In a few moments he drt ed on deck with his duck trousers le ad as if he had been_ overboard, ‘Ving his hat in the hold, and the bucket PSized nobody knew were. Ty ure,” he said, “it’s a dhreadful n’ise hi © hear-rd, and a sight of the old divil hare o lt I’ve goot. B’ys, the ship’s thented! I was draw’n’ the wather, and fre came a v’ce that said, ‘Sh-r-r-r, “T-r-r, Mickey!’ and something hit me | the Cape of Good Hope, and listening to |}one of English Dick’s stories about old in the fut and thripped me up (or down, as ye’s will); and away wint the water, and fornist the cask, in the dar-rk, I seen a thing shtand up, and he said, ‘Sh-r-r-r, wh-r-r-r, sk-r-r-r, Mickey! off wid ye!’ | An’ now, b’ys ye'll not get a dhrop 0’ | wather the night. Oh, wurra, wurra! and | what'll we do entirely?” Should the reader suppose that this rev- | elation of Mike’s excited the ridicule of | our watch, he will be wide of the mark. | Let him in imagination tread the deck of | a benighted ship, far out upon the dreary deep—the rough sailor boys beside him, | the shadowy canvas above, and all round | the breaking of the phosphorescent sea. No lack of credulity was discoverable save in Morely and the minister. For myself, I was young, and had no fixed opinions relative to the tales I had so often heard in the night watches. ‘They might be more or less true, and had sometimes, in spite of my skepticism, given me uneasi- ness. As, for instance, when doubling Vanderdecken—how once his spirit flew into his wife’s window at Amsterdam to tell of his draadful doom; and how, for- ever and ever, and ever, the phantom ship must breast the southern deep with her crew of burly Dutchman, who, as Dick said, were now all overgrown with a kind of yellow ghostly moss. What had made the matter worse for me, upon the recital of this yarn, was the fact, that, just as Dick had finished it, a huge ship came down on our quarter, and all night long I had noticed that even Morely looked at the We stumbled upon the bucket and Mike’s hat. Morely—I am sure, though, that he was a little nervous—groped his way to the cask of water. He filled the bucket, and one of the adventurers, already with a hand on the combing of the hatch- way, was in the act of climbing on deck, the rest of us closely following, when we heard in the hold a low, grating noise that made me shudder. I knew not why I should thus shudder, or why the sound should prove so sickening to my senses, yet thus it was. It was not the noise of rats; it was heavy and long drawn, and had in it, to my apprehension, something horrible. The hand of our headmost man did not long remain upon the hatch-comb- ing. One and all, we sprang for the deck; the impetus of the effort carrying some of us neadlong into the lee scuppers. Morely lost the bucket of water, and Phillips a good portion of. his red shirt, he having had the misfortune to be slightly in ad- vance of some one in no less haste than himself. The weather looked squally, and for this reason, combined, perhaps, with one equally potent—for he had much of the old shell-back about him—the third mate ordered the hatch to be secured for the night; he bringing us, meanwhile, a bucket of water from the cabin, and prom- ising to get up a cask from below early in the morning. His curiosity was of course grealty excited, but the darkness deterred him from any attempt to solve the mystery. Darkness? Yes, it was dark, indeed. The moon was gone; thick, and close to the water, gathered the clouds, borne on by the southwest monsoon. All hands were Wi Yj Dee N ee , XT WA A, \ SOF WS THE LAWYER-SAILOR DROVE HIS KNIFE WIDE OPEN, HISSED ship with unusual interest, as if pleased to break the monotony of sea life with a feast of imagination, and at the same time almost a childish dread. The stranger was a huge Indian; and at daybreak, when we saw him under reefed topsails, pitching in the head-beat sea, and seniing the spray fifty feet from the bluff of his bow, { felt a kind of vague disappoint- ment to find that he was decken. Now was there anything unusual in the hold? or had Mike trodden on a coil rig- ring, an old hoop, or a spare studdingsail oom ? “Go down, Phillips,“ said Morely, “vyou’re a minister. What's the good of being a preacher if you don’t know how to deal with the devil?” But Phillips did not seem inclined to ut his professional armor to the proof—he had been accustomed to battle with the adversary at long range. At length it was decided that Morely should go down to look for the bucket, while the rest of us not Vander- dropping “into his wake,” as Ben re- marked, should be “ready to forge up on his quarter” in case of necessity. Morely | was advised by Old Dick to “carry short | sail” and keep his “lead going.” It appeared impossible that Mike should | have seen anything like what he described, for the darkness in the hold was as impen- etrable as a two-inch plank. “Oh, but ’twas be the hatchway—for- mesilf and the light; and thin I hear-rd it ninst the shtarboard side _ iv it, between | | thravel an go away, laving mea chance'| first. | was a heavy sea running and RIGHT INTO THE GHASTLY MOUTH THAT, CLOSE TO HIS FACE. called to reef topsails—Morely and the minister “laying out” with right good- will, and Dick, and Ben, and Irish Mike, tugging manfully at the shaking, slat- ting, thundering sails. We furled top- gallant sails, put single reefs in the top- sails and got the mainsails snug on the yard. This accomplished, eight bells were struck, and leaving the starboard watch to lay up the slack of the rigging we went below. Awaking near daybreak with the im- pression left by some horrible dream of which I could not recall the details, I found that the forecastle lamp had gone out. The darkness below was intense, and that it could be scarcely less so upon deck was evident from the fact that the scuttle- way, though wide open, could scarcely be perceived. A sound like that we had heard in the hold, arrested my attention; but it was in the hold no longer. I recol- lected a large aperture in the bulkhead— horror! the noise was in the forecastle! A horrible, half-muffied sound it seemed—as if a dead body was being dragged over the floor. Presently I heard it near the scuttle, and soon after this it seemed as if the faint. light from above became even more feeble than before, as if some object had placed itself in the opening. There its thunder against the bows. in a great measure drowned all other sounds; yet I could oc- casionally distinguish about the forecastle stairs the same crawling, dragging, sick- ening noise which had so startled me at I had not called out to my ship- for me life,” shouted Mike from the deck, | mates, from the uncertainty as to whether in answer to some incredulous observation such an act might, or might not be the from those below, worst thing I could do, | say, I had not long to ponder upon the sing- wiar occurrence, when the roaring voice of an old boatsteerer calling the watch, filled all the forecastle with its unmelodious volume. It was four o’clock. Our first duty was to tack ship, for as usual with whalemen, we were standing alternately off and on shore, and it being now almost day, the captain wished to put the ship in stays before the other watch should go be- low. Fore and aft we ram about decks in the darkness, knowing the ropes by in- stinct, and the Atlantic was soon up in the wind. “Now, old foor-tack, we’ll boord ye, by ver lave,” sang out Irish Mike. “I’m the ’y to ride ye down.” And stumbling along forward in the pitchy night, he made a grasp at what he supposed to be the huge rope that hauls out the weather clew of the foresail. “Och hone and blue he co murdthers! eried. “It wint out of mé hand like powdther! Who’s goot hold in the foor- tack?” He had scarcely spoken, when all other sounds were lost in the most appallin utterance that I ever heard. It was uch like the sound made by a locomotive in’ letting off steam, yet there was in it some- thing at once disgusting and terrible. At the same moment several of our men were struck to the deck by some invisible agency. Wild confusion ensued, but amidst this it seemed to me that I heard a heavy, rustling, deathly sound in the di- rection of the foremast, and somehow, though I could see nothing, I had the im- pression that the great spar “felt unusual weight.” As to most of my shipmates, they had not the least difficulty in arriving at a solution of the mystery. The devil they said was on board the ship—“and divil a bit,” said Mike “shall we iver: set fut on land again.” All about decks we searched with a lantern, but could find nothing of our strange visitor—the officers, I should with the minister and Morely searched—none of the others, not they! As morning broke, it became necessary, from the roughness of the weather, to put another reef in the topsails. But the sailors had a strong suspicion that all was not right aloft, and it would not be easy to drive them into the rigging. First of all, the mizzen topsail must come in; and from threats and ridicule as well as from the still more important consideration that this sail was at the greatest distance allowed by the length of the ship from the point, whence they had most reason to ap- prehend danger, the trembling tars were induced to go up and furl it. But to reef the fore and maintopsails was quite an- other matter. The second mate led the way up the foreshrouds, but just as his head rose above the top, a lightning like blow was delivered from that citadel of vantage and the officer’s cap was instantly struck from his head. He came down. The captain was in a rage. “You cow- ardly lubbers!” he cried, “things have come to a fine pass, if I can’t get a sail taken care of ied this ship. Are you going to let that topsail blow away?” And as much, perhaps, from curiosity as from any other motive, up he went him- self. There was nothing unusual in the top. The morning light had now began pretty broadly to dawn, and without more ado we went up the rigging and out on the foretopsail yard, while the captain, swear- ing fiercely at us, descended to the deck. While knotting the reef-points I happened to glance above, and as nearly as | could see by the dim light, there was something singular in the appearance of the topmast crosstrees. The topgallant yard, near the mast, had also an unusual look, and it was my impression that some heavy body was moving both between the crosstrees and over the yard. I called the attention of the crew to the object, and the spec- tacle that we then presented would have formed an excellent subject for an artist— the hardy sailors lying partly over the foretopsail yard, grasping the reef points and gazing higher aloft with blanched and wondering faces. Presently a head, not very large, but, oh, so hideous and fearful, reached out from the mast, passed under the topgallant yard and commenced gliding downward. For the first time, the truth broke upon us. “mig a snik! ’tis a snik!” shouted Mike Conolley. . t “A ’orrible big hanaconda!” exclaimed Dick. “Down, down for your lives!” Phillips. “Down to the deck! royal serpent of Ceylon!” We had barely time tojump into the top- mast shrouds and thence go helter-skelter below the top, when the snake once more took up his position in the latter. He had been “prospecting” as high as_ the cross- trees, but the top evidently appeared to him the most favorable location for a set- tlement. A snake thirty feet long in the foretop! Not the least opportunity from the deck to shoot or harpoon him. It was a predicament involving no small degree of anxiety. Yet now, their imagination relieved and their enemy a pene x in the shape of a nocturnal dweller in the vis- cried ’Tis the tile biue Hit Pile Vy in i i in : ohio opt Ta foe ek Sena f ‘ 1st GOOD NEW Ss. ible world, how greatly were the sailors reassured! They had but to kill him and he would be done with. However, there was but very little jesting upon the sub- ject, and it was observable that no one of the crew had any work demanding imme- diate attention forward of the mainmast. How could a man feel any heart for ordi- nary duties with this “grisly horror” in the foretop? There he lay, and though we saw him not, yet none the less for that we felt his terrific presence. , Morely went up to the maintopsail yard and looked at him over the sail. The cap- tain went up, the chief mate, the second mate, and the third. The main rigging was full of men. Some peered under the maintopsail, some went away up to the crosstrees, and these, speaking softly to the captain, told him that they could strike the monster with harpoons. Before oing aloft, however, the officers had oaded all the muskets in the ship, and these they now ordered brought up to them. The old flint locks, three in num- ber, were laid across the main yard. “Click,” “click,” “click,” came from the old king’s arms, and that was all—both severally and collectively they refused duty. And now the snake seemed irritated— the great, hideous serpent, that Mike had mistaken for the foretack—he raised his head and uttered an appalling hiss. His small eyes glittered like burning coals. A sudden impulse seemed to possess him, and throwing his immense shape into pyra- mid wreaths with a celerity that made his rleaming colors seem a column of zigzag flame, he shot up the foretopmast, gath- ered his fiery rings upon the crosstrees, and darted thence to the maintopsail yard, which being braced up was not at a great distance from him. Phillips, the minister, was about mid- way on the yard arm, the captain and his officers being nearer the mast. A _ wild, awful cry of horror arose from twenty voices. ‘Two rings of the mighty serpent had enfolded Phillips, but the snake, not being able to encircle the yard on account of the sail which was set under it, strug- led and writhed a moment, fell partially Sows abaft the sail, between that and the elew-line, which in some measure sup- ported him, and ae struck the lower ard, still holding Phillips in those ghast- i coils. Every man fled affrighted—down the backstays, out on the yards, up the topgallant rigging—every man save one, hither or thither. That man was Morely. He had been on the crosstrees (of the maintopmast, of | course,) and now with his sheath-knife between his teeth, he darted down the shrouds and out upon the yard where poor Phillips lay senseless in the coils of the serpent, which: however, had thus far been so intent upon securing itself in its new position as not to have tightened its terrible rings sufficiently to crush out the life of its captive. I had seen Morely at the weather ear- ring in a gale—upon the jibboom in a sea that buried the old ship’s cat-heads—at the wheel in a white squall, and at the bow oar of a whaleboat when rowin upon the very back of leviathan; but had something of his character yet to learn. Firmly he trod the foot-rope to- ward the dents mass of black and yel- low folds; and the awful head _ that, lancing to and fro above the spar, hissed es in his very face. But Morely had seen the serpents of Java and Mozam- bique, and he knew that a wounded snake, unlike any other ferocious animal, retains little inclination, after the recep- tion of a single wound, to engage its enemy anew, and little capacity even to defend itself. Not more than four feet of the ee neck was at present free, poor Phillips being enveloped in the fore- most part of its disgusting folds, while the remainder encircled the yards and the furled mainsail. As Morely approached, the tail struck him like a whip, and two coils of it fas- tened quick as lightning around his body. But Morely’s knife was not idle. With determined energy the lawyer-sailor cut right and left at his horrible rages wounding tail and neck, and finally thrusting the weapon right into the ghast- ly mouth that, wide open, hissed close to his face. The wounded snake, with the usual cowardice of his tribe, retreated, loosing his coils from Phillips, whom Morely caught in time to prevent his fall- ing. The monster crawled. to the extreme yardarm, ot Seg | himself in hideous con- tortions; while the officers and crew, tak- ing heart as they saw the scale of victory incline to their heroic shipmate, went aloft to assist in getting the unconscious minister down to the deck. “For God’s sake, Morely,” said the cap- tain, “come down. - You have saved poor Phillips, but the snake may kill you at last. Get in the bight of his cursed coils, and let him once heave home and you’re done.” But Morely would not come _ down. “Pass me up an ‘iron,’ sir, and Ill fix him,” he said. The “iron” was passed up. There was little opportunity for action upon the yard, and the sailor, therefore, retreating to the maintop, was about to make this the base of his operations, when he perceived that the snake, having thrown a coil or two around the foretop- mast. backstay, which, as the yard was now braced, was not far from it, appeared to have an intention of ascending the fore- rigging. Morely, from his position, could not throw his iron to atadace. and jumping into the topmast rigging, he ran up to the maintopsail yard. By this time the snake was working his way up the foretopmast, and Morely, to be even with him, went up to the maintopmast cross- trees. In another moment we saw his iron dart across the space between the masts, but as may well be imagined, his foothold on the crosstrees of a pitching, rolling ship, was not such as a man might choose for the performance of such a feat as that of harpooning a great snake, and he missed his mark. The snake darted his head on high, and hissed frightfully. He was now twisted all about the fore-topgallantmast, and his flat, disgusting head, stretched out toward his enemy, embodied all that I can imagine of horror. Morely drew in his harpoon, with evident relish for the fun. Once more supporting himself by the topgallant rigging, he poised the sharp whaleman’s iron. “Hurrah! hurrah!” burst from all hands. “An’ faix, ye’ve fetched him, Morely!” sang out Mike. “Ye’ve scaled the top iv his head off! Look at him go! Well, but it bates me! He didn’t die yet, and his head clane off him!” It was true. Morely’s harpoon had shaved the flat skull clean from the mon- ster’s head, leaving only the under jaw. Yet up and up he went, writhing and slatting his huge body like a foretack adrift, up the topgallantmast, up the royalmast, till his ghastly, skulless trunk rose above the truck. The spars bent be- neath his enormous weight; the ship just then rolled to leeward, and crash went the royalmast—yard, rigging, snake and all— right over the side. We saw a slight trace of blood upon the water; black and orange folds rolled over and over, now high above the foam, now utterly disappearing. The royal serpent of Ceylon was gone. “An’ ye done well, Morely, faix ye done well!” said Mike, as we sat in the fore- castle the next evening. “Ye claned him out pretty!” “So much for overhauling a ship in a Hindoo river,” said Morely. have known a snake to crawl into a bed-tick at home when my mother put it out to air, and I killed him with the tongs. I sup- ose this fellow came from some of those yig trees that our topgallantmasts lay afoul of, when the ship was hove out.” “Morely; I shall preach hereafter,” said the minister. “I have been a sad prodigal from a happy fold.” “Oh, you can preach here, as well as hereafter,” said Morely. “But should you ever get back.into the church I hope you will have charity for outsiders. For my- self, I like this sort of thing, and if I ever return to a law office, it won’t be because I am frightened.” _ “Sure, Morely, and it won’t. Ye done it pretty !” interposed Mike Conolley. “No, Morely, it won’t be because you are frightened,” said Phillips. “But think of it—you a lawyer, myself a minister, brought hither through the paths of folly and error—it cannot last. e will some day look back upon the present as a mis- erable dream.” The minister spoke truly. Twenty months pass; and the red-shirted man whom you see at the bunt of the sail, assisting in furling that great topsail for the last time, is Phillips the preacher. The man in the blue shirt, lying over the ard and tugging stoutly at the canvas, is orely, brave, reckless Morely. It is their final day’s work on shipboard. Many a time since, while listening to the outpourings of a prominent speaker at camp-meeting, I wondered if he remem- bered the old ship Atlantic and Dick, and Mike, and Morely, and the great snake. And again, when I have pored over the reports of law proceedings in a western city—“Catchem and Hangem for the pros- ecution, Morely for defendant,”—I have pictured to pe one of these personages as he appeared on the mainyard of the At- lantic, when he fought the royal serpent of Ceylon. +0 Riding a Camel. ANDERING in foreign lands is ‘Af, just what some of the young pa- ~V~ trons of Goop Nrws would like -) to indulge in; yet what seems sport when we read about it, is often act- ual hardship when realized. The follow- ing brief description of camel riding will illustrate the proposition, and show how an experienced traveler destroyed a pop- ular illusion. Dr. Nachtegal, the celebrated African explorer, was once the guest of a rich Hamburg merchant. The merchant’s son, a young man of a somewhat sentimental temperament, said, among other things, that his dearest wish was to ride across the desert on the back of a camel. He thought such a ride must be very poetical indeed, “My dear young friend,” replied the ex- plorer, “I can tell you how you can get a partial idea of what riding a camel on the deserts of Africa is like. Take an office- stool, screw it up as high as possible, and put it into a wagon without any springs then seat yourself on the stool, and have it driven over rocky and uneven ground during the hottest weather of July or August, after you have not had anything to eat or drink for twenty-four hours, and then you will get a faint idea of how de- lightfully poetic it is to ride on a camel in the wikis of Africa.” RECKLESS ROLL: OR, THE WOLF IN THE FOLD. Senet tit By JAMES K, LENNOX. at {RECKLESS RoLu” was commenced in No, 6, Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents,] —— CHAPTER VIII. RECKLESS ROLL’S RECKLESS RIDE, ITH wildly-throbbing and anx- ious heart, Reckless Roll hurried on over the great prairie toward the Lone Oaks, the home of. his little sweetheart, Maggie Milbank. When he left Old Bugle and Oscar Desmond it wanted some two hours of sunset, but ere these two hours had passed he hoped to be at the end of his journey. There was a mingled expression of anxiety and boyish pride on his handsome face, and the fight of some secret joy in his dark eyes, as he hurried on, almost at arun. Ever and anon he would glance back over his shoulder at the setting sun, then forward at the little grove that marked the end of his journey, as if doubt- ful of his ability to reach the point within the time allotted to himself. Fi As Old Bugle had said, and as his name indicated, the Boy Ranger was a wild, reckless youth, and in his anxiety to reach the .Lone Oaks and protect Bertha and Maggie from danger, he had not calcu- lated on any delay in his journey, until he discovered a party of mounted savages riding southward midway between him and the Lone Oaks. To avoid discovery, the youth threw himself on the ground in the tall prairie grass. In this position he remained until the savages had had time to pass out of sight. But to his great surprise he saw, on raising from his covert, that the sav- ages had Tatas near where he had first seen them, and were evidently scanning the prairie around them. Prudence suggested that the youth should remain concealed until the savages were gone, so he again threw himself in the grass. He now abandoned all hope of reaching the Lone Oaks by sunset. The minutes stole by, and an occasional glance east- ward showed him the savages still sta- tionary; and finally, the last rays of the setting sun showed him that which caused him no little uneasiness. The group of Indians had divided into three parties, and were sweeping west- ward over the plain toward him. He did not’ doubt that they had seen him, and were now scouring the plain in search of him. If such was the case, his chances of escape were but one in a hundred. How- ever, Reckless Roll was not the person to trust to fortune alone, and creeping along to a bunch of tall grass, he pressed him- self into it, then throwing himself on his back, he tangled the grass over him in a manner that would almost defy detection. He now awaited the approach of the Pawnees. The sun had gone down, and twilight was deepening over the plain. As the minutes wore on, the Nall thud of hoofs broke upon our hero’s ear, and as the sound drew nearer and nearer, he had fears of being trampled to death. How- ever, he prepared himself for the worse. Then came the swish of feet through the rass, and the Boy Ranger is passed un- 1armed. Waiting until all sound had died away, he ventured to rise and glance around him. Westward went the savage horse- men, Reckless Roll then arose to his feet, shouldered his rifle and resumed his jour- ney. But his feelings now were anything but joyful. He was uneasy about the two friends he had left behind, and fear- ful lest his arrival at the Lone Oaks would be too late. However, he pushed rapidly forward. The stars came out in a clear sky, and the moon followed, and covered the land- scape with its mellow radiance, Suddenly the conflicting thoughts of the Boy Ranger were interrupted by an object that rose suddenly up from the tall grass about thirty paces before him, The youth halted and dropped his rifle on his left arm, but at the same moment he discovered the object was a dark-col- ored horse that had been aroused from the tall grass by his approach. The animal, he saw, was saadied and bridled, and this filled him with no little curiosity. What was the horse doing there? And why did it stand so motionless with ears pricked up, gazing at him with apparent affright. The youth asked himself these ques. tions, but could arrive at no definite con- clusion. He could not see any one near the animal, and yet he thought there was trickery somewhere to entrap him. There was a deep silence, which was succeeded by a slight noise in the grass behind our friend, who turned and gazed in the direction from whence the sound eminated. But he saw nothing. The next instant he hears another sound. It is the sound of hoofs. He turns and sees the strange, riderless horse sweeping directly toward him. He springs quickly to one side out of the path of the beast. At the same instant he sees a powerful Indian warrior rise into the saddle, as though he had come out of the ground. Reckless Roll attempted to fire upon the savage, but before he could raise his rifle. the Indian swept alongside of cone over in his stirrup, he seized the ie by the collar of the hunting-shirt, ifted him aloft, and throwing him across his horse, dashed away at a furious speed. “Ha! ha! ha! Reckless Roll, you shall get your deserts for that Otter Lake affair —you will play Pantherfoot no more tricks, nor will you steal another map or compass.” Reckless Roll started at the sound of this voice—the voice of his captor. It was the voice of Homil Deusen. It fired the youth with a spirit of des- peration, and the disguised Indian agent soon found that in the management of his horse and captive he had more than he could well attend to. The Boy Ranger was quick and strong, and the instant he fully comprehended his situation, he made a desperate lunge that threw his captor off his guard and balance, and together they rolled to the earth. For our hero this was a fortunate thing, for Deusen, in endeavoring to prevent himself from falling, held on to the rein, which act resulted in jerking the horse to one side and back upon his Pintehee. and directly upon the breast of the outlaw, who scarcely moved for an hour after- ward. Reckless Roll having regained his feet, and seeing his antagonist lying apparently dead, caught the horse, sprang into the saddle and galloped away, leaving Deusen to regain his breath at leisure. “Quite a lucky affair after all,” mused the youth, when he found he _ bestrode a a ge animal; “I will be able to make the Lone Oaks in a few minutes now; but I must recover my weapon.” The last was in regard to his rifle, which he had been compelled to drop when the Indian seized him, and getting the course, he set off in search of it. He soon regained the point where he had dropped it, and after a minute’s: search he discovered the polished barrel shining in the moonlight. 5 Dismounting, he picked it up, and loam it at his back by means of astrap attache for that purpose, then proceeded to re- mount. Placing his left foot in the stirrup, with the rein in his left hand, he threw his right hand up and taking hold of the sad- dle was inthe ‘ of raising himself into it, when a low cry escaped his lips, and he withdrew his right hand as quickly from the saddle as though it had met the slimy, wriggling folds of a serpent. But instead of that it was withdrawn from that of a tall Indian warrior, who had ap- proached unobserved, and who was stand- ing on the opposite side of the horse in the very act of leaping into the saddle himself. For a moment the two foes stood motion- less, glaring at each other over the horse, only the upper part of their faces visible to each other. It seemed that both were at a loss to know how to act. Suddenly, however, with the quickness of a flash, Reckless Roll threw his right hand over the saddle; and grasping the savage by the long scale lock, drew his face close against the sad- dle. At the same moment the same thought seemed to have entered the brain of the savage, for he threw his right arm over, and made a sz.ab at the youn ranger’s head. But he was disappointe' in getting hold of the youth’s hair, for his cap was in the way, but he succeeded in getting hold of the collar of. his hunting: shirt. Each one stooped to break the other’s hold. Side by side their arms were pressed in the saddle seat. A yell of defiance burst from the savage’s lipS; and was answered by a shout of derisio® from the Boy Ranger. E The horse became frightened, and with a wild snort it plunged forward an dashed away at a furious speed across the plain, with the two deadly foes dangling at his sides, him, and : ww 8 or w we, » SR Re fect icy rs THE strongest and finest natures have the sharpest contrasts in their characters. Who does not admire the man who can be a hero in time of need, and gentle and tender to the weak or suffer- ing; or the one who has profound convictions of his own, yet is patient with and tolerant to those who oppose him; or tne one who has intense de- sires, yet is able fo control them? Itis the want of these counterpoises in character that makes go many weak, one-sided, and erring mortals, ACTIONS are ideas in motion, » ea PAS oT Er! ere sp verte neha 0 Retiiabicaey eg 7 : iy Sak. } { { 7 i it H GooDp NEWS. ae ISSUED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, JULY 10, 1890. Terms to Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE FREE.) he a di nae = 65c. | Lcopy, two years - $4.00 ene --e 2s 2 - 85c. | The New. 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In SuBscrreine for Goop News always state what number you desire your subscription to begin with, as we commence all Subscriptions with No. 2 in the ab- sence of other instructions. Special inducements made for large clubs. Au letters should be addressed to STREET & SMITH’S GOOD NEWS, P. O. Box 2734, 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y. Contributors to this Number. “Cadet Carey,” by Lionel Lounsberry (2d Lieut. U. 8. Army). “Down the Slope,” by James Otis. “Reckless Roll,” by James K. Lennox. “His Own Master,” by I, P. Miller. “On Land and Sea,” by Wm. H. Thomes. “Only An Irish Boy,” by Horatio Alger, Jr. “Swipes,” by **Frank.” “Around the Camp-Fire,” by Harry Horr. “Short Talks With the Boys,” by M. Quad. “A Ship Really Haunted,” by George H. Coomer. “Figures and Fists,” by Harkley Harker. “Something in the Bed,” by Max Adeler. Letter “A.” HE result of the letter ‘‘a” contest is 2 not yuite complete, and we will there- (Comic. ) "fore be obliged to postpone ihe an- We have _ received thousands of guesses and it is very nouncement until our next issue. slow work to sort these out in numbers and dates. , We hope the slight delay of a few days will not cause much disappointment. In our next issue we will not only pub- lish the result of the contest, but will also! publish the names and addresses of the winners in full. READ TELE CAVE ON THE ISLAND, e —--o- — By OLIVER OPTIC. a WHICH COMMENCES NEXT WHEK. Cranks, Ahoy: IN CASH PRIZES TO BE Base Ball $1 Q) se AWAY. Fr E propose giving away $100 in \\/> money to the one who guesses the ‘o) order in which the National Leaque - and Players’ League clubs will finish the season of 1890. There are eight clubs represented in each League—namely : Players’ League—Boston, Brooklyn, Buffalo, Chicago, Cleveland, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh. National League—Boston, Brooklyn, Chi- cago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh. The following shows the order in which the National League finished the season of 1889 : To N6W York. .4.. » 2; BOStON,..< aeot due 5, Pittsburgh....... 6. Cleveland........ Se ARICA Ores ho, 2i0 6 5,0 7. Indianapolis..... 4, Philadelphia..... 8. Washington...... Write the names of the two Leagues in the order in which you think they will finish in, and send them to us, accompanied with the certificate which you will find printed on the first page of this paper every week until the contest closes. The prizes are intended for the readers of Goop News only, and guesses sent unaccom- panied by the certificate cannot be recognized as competitors. The prizes will be divided as follows :— $35 for the first correct guess received of the National League, and $35 for the first cor- rect guess reccived of the Players’ League; $15 to the second correct guesses of each of the Leagues, making a total of $100. By this arrangement you have four chances to win a prize. There is also nothing to prevent one person from winning the two capital prizes. You can guess as many times as you have certificates. Some one has got to win, and why not you? Please write your guesses on one side of paper only. Write the National League on one slip of paper and the Players’ League on another ; also the date you mail it. Remember the only condition is that the certificate found on the first page must accom- pany every guess. The game will be umpired by the ‘ ‘official guides” of the Players’ League and National League. Competition will close September Ist, 1890. Guesses mailed after September 1st will not be counted. ———- -».-o--@> pplause. or We have received a large number of congratu- latory letters from our readers, and would like to publish all of them,-but we are prevented from so doing by the limited space at our disposal. We desire, however, to thank all our readers for their kind patronage and expressions of approval, and promise to make Goop News not only the best Bold. but one worthy of a place in every house- hein gdia ale CINCINNATI, Ohio. MEssrs. Street & Smrra : Dear Sirs :—I think yours is the best boys’ paper in the world. I have been a reader of boys’ papers for years, and I never knew such an aggregation of literary talent upon one paper before. Wish- ing you the success you so rightly merit, I am very truly yours, T. M. Drxon. CHICAGO, Ill. DEAR Sir :—I think Goop News is the best paper pablished for the price, Yours truly, , JOHN STONE, WiMIneTon, N. C. Messrs. Streer & Suir: Gentlemen :—The members of the ‘‘ Boys’ Home Library” enjoy your paper, Go NEws, and heartily endorse it for boys and girls. Yours very ey W. W. Vick, Librarian. R, F. Crow, Secretary. I. D. CAMPBELL, Treasurer, JAMES Cowan, Chairman of Meetings. Port Greson, Miss, Dear Sirs:—I nave been taking Goop NEws since it begun, and I think it one of the best papers I ever read. Respectfully, M. H. LAHENBERG. ' VIRGINIA Crry, Nev. Epitor Goop NEws: Dear*Sir ;—I have purchased your paper every week since it started, and I will continue to doso, as I like it very much, and I think itis the best five-cent paper out. Hoping you success with your paper, J remain Yours respectfully, Rost, E. LEONARD. DELAWARE, Ohio. Gursstnc DEPARTMENT GoopD News: Gents:—I admire Goop News very much, and think it will lead all the young peoples’ papers, Wishing you abundant success, I am, very respectfully, E. L. Hureursson, Caicago, Ill, THE Goop News, New YORK: Gentlemen:—I saw a copy of your paper in a Store'window, and bought it. The stories are so good that I continued taking it ever since. As long as you have stories by such authors as Optic, , ‘| THE fe Jastlemon, Ellis, Alger, and Thomes, { think your paper will be read more than any other boys’ weekly published. Hoping you have the best of luck with your new paper, I remain, Yours very truly, P. La’ HH. Ox¥ForD, Mich. Eprror Goon News : Dear Sir:—l take your paper through C. H. Glaspie, and think it is the best paper for boys that I ever read. Yours truly, ADDIE F. STODDARD. “Good News" Humane Society. HEROISM TO BE REWARDED, - ECOGNIZING the fact that there are a large number of heroes who are never rewarded in any way for risk- ing their lives to save others, we have formed a ‘‘Humane Society” in con- nection with Goop Nrws. The above cut is a fac-simile of a solid gold medal which will be presented, suitably engraved, to all who become members of the above society. We also intend publish- ing in the columns of Goop News, an account of the deed which entitles one to wear this emblem of heroism. To do justice to all and avoid any decep- tion, we will have to take extra precaution, and we must therefore have an authentic statement from a reliable source that the party in question jeopardized his life in a good cause. The existance of this society dates from May, 1890, and notice cannot be taken for heroic acts performed prior to the date of organization of this society. After the 15th day of May, if any of your young friends are entitled to become mem- bers of this society and receive the gold medal described above, write out a full his- tory of the event and have it witnessed and signed by three responsible citizens, and a notary public of the town or city where it happened. There will, no doubt, be a large numt er of our young readers who may perform some act of heroism and yet not be a life- saver. To all those we will give honorable mention in the columns of Goop News. The medal is intended for life-savers only. + -e-~@ BOOKS FREE. —— 2™ OMMENCING with Goop News dated = June 12, 1890, we will print a coupon 4V/ on the first page for 12 consecutive issues. The coupons will be num- bered from 1 to 12, and by sending us the set complete, we will send you a book. They are carefully selected stories by pop- ular authors. They are bound in handsome lithograph covers, fully illustrated, and con- tain about 200 pages. They are all popular American copyright stories, Make Your Own Selection. THE YANKEE CHAMPION, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. THE GOLDEN EAGLE, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO ABROAD, by Alex. Robertson, M. D. IRISH MONTE CRISTO’S SEARCH, by Alex. Robertson, M. D. HELD FOR RANSOM, by Lieut. Murray. AN IRISH MONTE CRISTO. A CHASE ROUND THE WORLD, by Mariposa Weir. GOLD-DUST DARRELL, by Burke Brentford. BOB YOUNGER’S FATE, by Edwin 8S. Deane. THE ae DETECTIVE, by Police Captain ames, THE AMERICAN MARQUIS, by Nick Carter. A MYSTERIOUS CASE, by K. F. Hill. VAN, By GOVERNMENT DETECTIVE, by “Old euth.” papi ms ya THE CITY DETECTIVE, by “Old euth.” BRANT ADAMS, THE EMPEROR OF DETECTIVES, by “Old Sleuth, Remember you get a copy of any book you name in the above list, by cutting out and sending us the twelve coupons which we will publish in Goop Nrws for twelve weeks, Figures and Fists, (J OTHER it!” and I heard the B z keeper’s fi:t-crash down on the @ / till the lamp shade danced in te “75 “What are you swearing at 0 your ledger?” asked the head of the hou who sat by. , “T beg pardon, sir, I didn’t swe That’s not in my line. But I am ma though if I had known you were he should have constrained myself. The is these figures act just as meanly 4 hatefully as they can. I have attempteé to balance here seven times over; but thi stubborn things will not come aright. [ struck them,” The young accountant was nephew another member of the firm, and w therefore, treated with some indulgen though, being a poor widowed siste only boy, he was bound to work well an keep his place, His uncle found his e for him easily enough; he had actua seven times over, substracted thus: 104,u9 42,44 : 61,55 Why was it that this bright mind eatedly insisted on carrying 1 to the seven times in succession! No one ¢ explain. The best of accountants ha done the same, It is as if the mind ram in a groove which it had worn for itsell This is the tyranny of thought at ti In this particular case, the boy was ti out. He had been without sleep ne all the previous night, and had come f the dentist’s to his desk. Fatigue often produce such a result. — His uncle,who, by the way, is not g oe good at figures, was simply a fre mind, and the fresh mind made the along-the subtraction without getting the track. Yet the uncle might have cal — ried 2 to the next lower 2 and subtracted % The curious fact is that, if he had comm! ted such an error the first time, he wou be likely to do in the second time. ) see the mind becomes indignant. The m0 ment it fails it “gets mad.” It is as ift figuring faculty shouted, “I know right! It is the figures, not I at fault. have been over this thing twice. Do suppose I, an imperious mind, am infer to these dull figures? Let the fig change. I shall not change.” Then, course, the judgment is obscured. A is like a touch of smearing butter on th short-sighted boy’s spectacles laid: a 0 ment beside his breakfast plate. Ange and arithmetic hate each other like ca and dogs; they never worked togethe helpfully. An angry man cannot simple interest on $112, if you were to g it to him. Now, what’s the use in Sisticu fing ledger? That’s the second folly. ledger, you may pound it to pulp, but thing cannot lie. It is only the man w can lie. The thing to do in such a box, to change the circulation to the bral? Produce a different flow of blood, fresh blood, too, to the thinking machin It is not the mind that is at fault. the brain, a material machine, which # clogged and out of gear. Go out for a/run round the block. SteP ~ into the basement, and take hold of 4 box or two with the porter. Wait th you are rested, and after dinner, or morrow morning, having slept over it a” “dreamed it out,” as you have often adoVy —which is Orie: the result of reste a 1% it again. At all events don’t act the 10%" Remember that the immortal spirit is 4 ways master of dull matter. The sp! of man can bore the Mount Cenis tut under the Alps, if it keeps cool, thit! accuratley and does not get mad at, rock. But aman’s fists can’t even ? ance a ledger. Your fists cannot laug but your mind can enjoy it’s joke 4 then subtract straight as eternal tru 10 — ARKLEY HARKER+ ONE DOLLAR and FIPTY CENTS SECURES . (00D NEWS For 3 MONTHS AND THE : l The ball is manufactured by SP Bros., and is the same as used by the fessional clubs. We not only send you THREE MONTHS the best boy’s paper lished, but a $1.50 OFFICIAL LEAG™ » BALL AS WELL. es = wane a ome as _ Si es seo = - = = a Se sees ae POrirnie NN eee eee — “ ee - : commences si a ese GOOD NEWS. L337 ose nen — a D T . t c J z | hand in it,” he said; “but I reckon he’s | which communicates with it I’d be in ay He had reached the limit of the aban- D _ *,. | innocent this time. I found him near his | worse fix than now, because the chances|doned drift, and was looking in upon a k |own home with a crowd of cronies, and of being lost or suffocated must be about | portion of the new mine. nail eae according to all accounts he’s been there | even.” : Even now he made no appeal for help. since supper.” ‘hen in his despair he shouted at the|The conversation of the men caused him es A STORY OF THE MINES DI eee ] lesy ] houted at the| TI t ft 1 ror. eee ees ‘5 “But what has become of Fred?” Mrs. full strength of his lungs, until it was im- | to listen with no thought of his own con- ver Byram asked, preserving a semblance of | possible to speak louder than a whisper. dition. 1Se, a By JAMES OTIS, calmness only after the greatest difficulty. Nothing less than the booming of a can-| “Unless we do the job to-morrow night uthor of «The Tour of the Rambler’s Club,” “I hope nothing serious has happened. | non could have been heard from the shaft |there’s little chance of gettin’ through a In the Bad Lands,” ete. The superintendent has been notified, and|by any one in the settlement, and with| with it all right,” one of the party was a i haan promises to send men out in search of him} the night shift in the working mine there | saying, and another replied with an oath: re ' [Down rue Suope” was commenced last week.] at once. It is just possible he went down | would hardly be any one in the vicinity. | There’s no reason why we should wait, ae ee the slope to see the night shift at work.” After giving full sway to his grief for | To-night would suit me.’ va SYNOPSIS There was nothing in these words to|half,an hour or more, anger replaced sor-| “I don’t believe in it,” a third man said. te Fred Byr ee acs : afford the distressed mother any relief, | row, and he rusbed into the tunnel with “What’s to be gained by floodin’ the the Mining ee oe me wo a 4! and the sorrow which would not be con- | no other thought than to escape from that | mine, an’ turnin’ ourselves out of a / 2 are Hre secure rork ‘ e o* » os So 4 thiner boss damed Ase bdieokii tear Peg ky trolled took complete possession of her, as | particular place. | chance to earn a living? €Mployed was C nia: “Tae: ey eo trandiy | Vonovan hurried away to join those who Stumbling on over decaying timbers, “You allers was chicken-hearted, Joe to tow vy as Chunky, a lad who was friendly url 2 £ yin} L ; - é af ard the new arrival. There was a tough gang ; Were examining every place where an ac-|rocks, and mounds of earth which had| Brace. Haven’t we put up with enough as, ship ae in the mizies, who were unded the leader- | cident might have occurred. fallen from the roof, he pushed straight|from the mine owners an’ bosses? We ce on Fred we Miller, These young ruffians insisted Meanwhile the subject of all this com- | ahead until the decided inclination told | work for starvation wages, while they can ah but he Sriatiy veto anaes ae = Se wee motion remained were the regulators had | that this drift tended upward. ‘There was | barrel money.” : ; 2 18) os > res 3 - ° . . . . . * ‘“ r » a's ” ; an Tefal canced ne 19 20 80. Ae rest t Ol Vi'S | left him. It was a long time before he re- | now reason to believe it might communi- Would you say that, if you hadn’t been r Caused our hero considerable trouble, and : = : : , TO! ‘mally culminated in the gang seizing Fred and| covered consciousness, and then several|cate with another which, in turn, was | thrown out of a job?” ly; fOWing him down an old shatt. a5 moments were spent in trying to decide|reached by a slope, and hope grew strong| “That’s my business. Here’s a crowd Se rae where he was and what had happened. once more. jof us who have sworn to stick together, no matter what happens, an’ five have ‘ PZT Pp} » aD CHAPTER. III. been warned out. Are we goin’ peaceable, IN THE SHAFT. ees not liftin’ a finger agin them as have SO, Zz: got rich while we starved?” "i WA RBS. BYRAM had no sus- Zh Bat Tow ake Wh MOD wee at picion that her son migh; WM selves by floodin’ the mine? ; e Seae Pe exposed to any danger / 4 iid Three or four of sich bosses a ah ~~ until after he had been ty: a Bee as Donovan may be in the olf mace an hour, and then the SR drift when with one a m Membrance of the threats 4 stroke of a pick I let 1e8. hi e by Skip Miller and the water into the - the friends caused her 4 lower level, and rly Be deepest anxiety, 4 that’ ll show ‘On an Would not have . ca others ny int at the store g| we're men, hger than was 1 even if they oh absolutely nec. do treat us a the and like brutes.” € fear “You will off jou play ina drown some sa dly gained of your own 1 0, Ossegsion of mates.” nit: fon Mind be- “Them as uld re she was are on the you on her way t level must noha Sea ay to é i RY rch for take their t 4 th chances.” | ei . a € com - “It’s mur- “ot ad bap ets ih that’s ) y whi s rior . puishea poet an’ Y i hae oo t iting that none of it!” get brealcer” ° Ww ae eed fe | fetter bey og he lee : “7 to his fee m0- chee his Sate and in wai ae tines some other instant net ous. previ- the whole ; ; Wy, 4 arty were ast | Donovan a tnclng hi th ‘ive tered iy rho dared to h 1 time who _ dare the wid far the dispute their oi “T Say: right to do 0 wrong. the Unders ¢ 2° "er 44 nnd Wh and or some N i shou ’ he moments our x 2Y . uid. Ba awa 3 ot. afstin. and 80 lor ay ; : py’ he 28 for guish a word, ite Ei Must so great was t is aye I the _ confu- 1 +7 + roubied Cc ee whieh the oe tep eine hy; on ha «He Lim mult sub- till Your aS = S sided in a ‘orm th, stay measure two i atten” house men were a him I left holding ont Bate ¥ the Brace, while ) } > 5 UW ap- ke rams Ss. he — ap alae eake: the ps area to be ab | askoat boss eader stood ; sd, before him in ee ie p . beciSiige aid nk§ | ‘reg Byram Seplained why Fred ven- = er ning attitude. th tl i the | istry) ut, and the man appeared to be ,Lou ve sworn to go with the crowc nde im Ded in mind an’ know the penalty for traitors. hi kent 18 is jest the time when he oughter I know that [ll blow the whole busi- ge flan, “18 nose inside. Them young ruf- ness if I get the chance. I’ve got a brother +h « mere likely to do any mischief.” in the lower level; do you think I'll stand 16D; len vy nary : . a + while he is bein’ dered 2?” : hay) ao you believe something serious has by while he is bein’ murdered? 2 . ned,” Better do that than turn agin us. do |, “dnt say quite that; but it won’t We'll give you one chance; swear to hold mue ; You Uch harm to have a look for him. hoy, 8° ome, an’ I’ll call there in an your tongue, an’ we’ll dono more than make sure you can’t betray us. lo Ngerg en turning to some of the ‘(THEN WE KNOW WHAT TO DO,” THE LEADER CRIED ANGRILY, AND THE NEXT MOMENT “An’ if I don’t choose to swear?” Ski Milles, asked, “Has anybody seen THE WATCHER SAW THAT JOE BRACE WAS FIGHTING AGAINST THE ENTIRE PARTY. ; “Then we'll — we an on hand 5 coe ately?” _ an’ foot. When the mine is floor ed this he’, iN allers tryin’ to make out that The fragments of conversation heard) How long he had traveled when the| drift will be cut off, an it don t need a {Tong,» le bottom of everything that goes| while the boys were carrying him, told | sound of voices caused him to halt it was | ore to say eo o naepen then. his Moment? 8 father, who entered at| that he was in an abandoned shaft, and, | impossible to form any idea; but it seemed || ; o to ere willin’ t ; paket oa you a ill : rt Said in asurly tone: unacquainted though he was with|as if several hours elapsed, and the first bad ane J iinet tan ats pote er me? ess, is nt, it’s not for lack of willing- | mines in general, it did not require much | thought was to shout for help. - pn ge : "Cs - a it. Tome you know where he is? thought to convince him how nearly im- “TI won’t do it,” he said, checking him-|}.. Listen Sees. ale Billings. I prom- More » © Wheré he’s been for an hour or | possible it would be to escape unaided. self. “This tunnel may have led me back | ised to stand by you fellers when the ans2Ovan look The bonds which fastened his limbs, as | to the other mine, and if the people ahead oaponggy alighs to help each other agin the hd Mj] 3 looked hard at the speaker, | well as the gag, had not been tied firmly, | are some of the night shift they’ll be like- | P0SS¢S; PUt now it’s murder you mean, I'd : er retorted : long Lo ou don’t believe me, it won’t take | and in a short time he was free to begin such an examination of the place as was ly to have considerable sport at my ex- pense.” rather be on the lower level when the deed is done than have part or parcel with M,. * ce out for yourself.” | possible in the profound darkness. _ Walking cautiously in the direction of penis as are willin’ to make widows an’ thr’: Byrat xactly what I’m going to do.| Here and there he could feel the timbers | the voices he was suddenly brought to a orpnans. an an me. I will see you again in less | left when the shaft was deserted, and, | standstill by an apparently solid wall of} “Then we know what to do,” Billings a Wit 1 ica.’ ee | after groping about some moments, dis- | earth. ; | cried angrily, as he rushed toward Brace, a tir Se areas breaker boss left |covered a tunnel-like opening ten or| He groped around until there was no} and for several moments Fred had only a yng en ly Eid Fred s mother walked | twelve feet across. The roof or top of this | question but that he had reached the end | confused idea of what was taking place p10" ning Many ¥ anxiety in her heart | place was beyond his reach, and he knew | of the drift, and. when this discovery had Brace was fighting against the entire fot i RO hors an eae —— moment. | if must be a drift from which all the coal been made he found a small ee party, and, under such circumstances, the abe thread and asilorst cad on e ee Te- had been taken. J ; which opened into a gallery or ¢ 1amber struggle could not be prolonged. K UE e Missing sa nced his inability to find It may lead for miles under the hill, | where were a 2ozen men, the lamps in| When the watcher could next dis- 5 t gj y. and I would be no better off by following | their hats illumining the place sufficiently | tinguish the occupants of the chamber think Skip: might have had a|it,” he thought, “Unless there is a slope | for Fred to distinguish the party. Brace laid on his back bound hand and 138 foot, while the others were on the point of departure. illings remained behind panions to say: “We gave you all the chance we could, an’ now it’s only yourself you’ve got to thank for what'll happen before forty- eight hours go by.” “T’d die twice over rather than put the stain of blood on my hands.” “Well, you’ve got the chance to try it once, an’ I reckon you’ll wish things was different before long. We'll take good care nobody comes this way too soon.” Then the party filed out of the room, one or two glancing back with undis- guised pity, and as they passed along the drift the place was wrapped in pro- found darkness, with nothing to break the silence, save the doomed man’s heavy breathing. Fred waited until believing the would- be murderers were beyond thes ound of his voice, and then he. called softly: “Brace! Brace!” “Who’s there?” “A breaker boy who came into the mine yesterday.” “Where are you?” Fred explained to the best of his ability, and naded: “Do you know of any way I can get out of here?” “No; that part of the mine has been closed a good many years, an’ it would take a week to work up through the old slope. Before then the water on_the lower level is bound to flood this end of the workings.” “ And we shall be drowned.” “T don’t see any help for it.” “But we can’t stay here and be killed!” Fred cried, in an agony of fear. “It’s tough; but there’s no way out of it, unless——” “What? Speak quickly, for time mustn’t be lost if we’re to do anything to- ward helping ourselves.” “How large a cut is there through the wall where you are standing?” “Tt’s only a small one—perhaps four or five inches across.” “Couldn’t you make it large enough to crawl through?” “Tt wouldn’t take a if I had a shovel; but without one it will be hard.” “Set about it, lad; work is better than idleness when a fellow is in this kind of a scrape.” Fred obeyed instantly, tearing away the earth regardless of the injury done his hands; but making very slow progress. The wall was composed of slate and gravel, and a pick would have been neces- sary to effect a speedy entrance. Meanwhile Brace strove to cheer the boy by talking of the possibility that they might yet escape, and hour after hour Fred continued at the task until the mo- ment arrived when it was possible, by dint of much sqeezing, to make his way through the aperture. “Do you think it is near the time when the men are to flood the mine?” he asked, roping around until his outstretched Saat touched Brace’s prostrate body, when he began feverishly to untie the ropes. “No, lad, we must have half a dozen hours before us.” “Then we are all right!” Fred cried, joyfully. “You know the way out, and illings’ plot can be made known in time to prevent the mischief.” “Don’t fool yourself with the idea that matters have been straightened because I’m free,” Brace replied, aS he rose to his feet when Fred’s task had been finished. “But what is to prevent our leaving here?” “Did you catch what Billings said when he left?” “ Yes.” “Then there’s no need of sayin’ any- thing more. Some of the murderin’ crowd will be on guard at the entrance to the drift, and, knowing what we do of their plans, every means will be used to prevent our ever seeing fer ay again.” “Don’t you intend to do anything to- ward trying to escape?” | “Of course. I’m not quite a fool.” “Shall you go back with me, or try to 2 find the shaft.’ “That would be useless. straight through this drift.” ; “But if Billings’ crowd are watching for his com- ” We will go ths simply a case of fighting for life. There aint _ much hope of overpowerin’ them ; the job will be child's play com- pared with tryin’ to hold our own agin the flood that’s sure to come soon.” Brace groped around for which would serve as a weapon ing nothing, he said grimly: “We'll have to go as wé are, lad, an’ re- member that if we don’t get through the drift you’ll never see the letadeee again,” CHAPTER IV. THE BARRIER, mh) . Fred was willing to join him in the struggle which must surely en- - sue, if they met those who intended to work such great injury to the mine. something ; but find- RACE did not so much as ask if|} GooDp He walked straight on without speaking until five minutes had elapsed, and then said in a whisper: “Tt wouldn’t be safe for any of that crowd to»be found loafin’ near the entrance to the drift, so we may expect to run across them before long. If they get the best of me, an’ you can slip past while they are doin’ it, don’t wait; but make the most of your time.” “T wouldn’t leave you to fight alone.” “Why not? My life don’t count for anything when there are so many to be saved. lings intends to do. The superintendent is the one who should hear it first; but if the time is short, speak to any of the bosses.” Up to this moment Fred had thought only that he and Brace might insure their own safety; but now personal welfare seemed insignificant as compared with what might be done for others. Following closely behind Brace that there might be no possibility of an invol- untary separation, he walked on in silence until the leader suddenly halted with a cry of dismay. “What’s the matter?” Fred whispered. “The villains have taken good care we sha’n’t escape. The drift has been filed up this side of the doors.” “Can’t we dig our way through? They haven’t had time to bring much stuff in here.” “More than likely two or three loads of coal have been dumped, and then_ the doors were fastened. The drift has been worked out, and none of the bosses would come here in time to suspect mischief.” “What can we do?” “Wait a bit till I make sure what’s be- fore us.” Brace clambered upon the barrier, as- sured himself there was too much to be removed in the limited time at their dis- posal, and then came back to where Fred was waiting in painful suspense. “It must be the old shaft or nothing. Walk fast now for the minutes are goin’ mighty quick !” Alone, Fred would have had difficulty in retracing his steps; but Brace pushed forward as if it was possible to see every foot of the way, and when the chamber was reached immediately began forcing his body through the aperture which had seemed hardly large enough for Fred. Neither gave any heed to possible in- juries, and the man’s clothes were in tat- ters when they emerged on the opposite side of the wall to make their way with all speed along the tunnel. For a while the inclination of the path told Fred the as direction was being pursued, and then it seemed as if they traveled an unusually long time over a road which appeared to be perfectly level. “Are you sure we are right?” he asked at length, seizing Brace by the arm to force him to halt. “I don’t know anything about it. This art of the mine was closed before I ever eard of such a place as Farley’s.” “We should have contineed wo hill until the shaft was gained.” “Then we are off the track sure; but it can’t be helped now, and there is little chance of finding our way back. The air isn’t bad, and we’ll keep on; it may be there is another slope beside the one about which I have heard.” “We must be on the lower level.” “T reckon we are.” : “And it can’t be long before Billings will do as he threatened.” “You’re right.” “Then we are certain to be drowned, unless we can find a higher drift.” “Yes, an’ it’ll be a clear case of luck if we strike one. Don’t stop sto talk now. We must go at full speed while the air is good.” Seizing Fred by the hand Brace started once more, and for the time being both forgot fatigue in this struggle for life. On with feverish energy they pressed, yet no glimmer of light broke the profound dark- ness. More than once each fell over the litter of timbers; but only to rise and Struggle on again until finally Brace halted. “It’s no use,” he said with a moan. “Kach step now is carrying us lower. I remember hearing some of the old hands say the abandoned drifts were a hundred feet or so farther down the hill. We must be considerably below the deepest shaft.” “Have you given up all hope?” Fred asked in a whisper, for while surrounded by the dense blackness the full tones of his voice sounded fearsome. “Ay, lad, all hope.” “Try once more. There surely is a way out if we could only strike it!” “We may as well meet the water here. I’ve been in the mines long enough to know that this runnin’ at random is worse than standin’ quiet. When a man’s time has come there’s no use to fight.” Fred could not urge him farther. The numbness of fear was upon him, brought y this sudden surrender of the man whom he had believed would be able to extricate them from the precarious position, and now he thought only of his mother. How long the two remained there silent ing down Run if you can, and tell what Bil- | NEW Ss. and motionless neither ever knew. To Fred it seemed as if hours passed before Brace seized him by the arm as he cried at the full strength of his tungs: “Hello! Mate! This way!” Then he ran forward at full speed, drag- ging Fred with him, and shouting like an insane man all the while until finally the boy could see a tiny spark of light far in the distance. “Tt’s some one looking for us,” Fred cried. “Whether he’s come for us, or is on business of his own matters little since ’ | his light is burning.’ | Then as Brace ceased speaking, Fred |heard a familiar voice shouting, and, an instant later, Sam Thorpe had grasped him by the hand. “Why it’s Bill’s butty! doin’ here?” “T came to look for the new breaker boy ; I thought Skip’s crowd had done him some mischief.” “So they did, an’ another set of scoun- drels would have drowned us all out but for your coming.” “What do you mean?” “There’s no time for talkin’ now. did you get here?” “By an old slope that I stumbled across the other day. I found Fred’s bundles near the shaft, and believed he had been let down there.” “Go on the best you know how; I’ll give you a bit of an idea about ourselves while we’re walking.” The gleam of the lamp Sam wore in his cap was sufficient to show the way, and by the time the entrance to the slope had been reached the butty boy knew the whole story. “Billings’ gang won’t be able to do any- thing till after the day shift go on, an’ I think it would be a good idea to let the superintendent know v hat has happened. Why not stay here till I tell him part of the story?” “Go ahead,” Brace replied. “We’ll wait for you.” “Will you tell my mother that I am all right?” Fred asked. “She shall hear of it first,” Sam said, as he stole out into the open air as if fearful of being seen. “Why didn’t we go with him?” Fred asked, when he was alone with Brace. “Because nobody knows how far the lan to flood the mine may have gone, and xy showing ourselves the villains may be gin the job too soon to be prevented.” It was yet dark. Instead of having been imprisoned in the tunnels twenty- four hours as Fred had believed, less than eight were passed there. That Mr. Wright believed the news Sam brought to be of vital importance was shown by his coming with the boy with the utmost speed, and on entering the shaft, he said to Brace: “Tell me all you know about the plan to flood the mine.” The story was given in detail, and at it’s conclusion Mr. Wright asked: “How do you happen to know so much about this thing?” “Because I belonged to the party till I found they meant murder.” “Are you acquainted with all the mem- bers?” “No, sir; wasn’t allowed. Billings allers let us understand there was a big crowd; but wouldn’t let any besides the officers know about it; he said the men might give themselves away by talkin’ if they found who was members.’ “Why do they wish to throw all hands out of employment by oe the mine?” “Some of the bosses are too hard on ’em, sir, an’ a good many think it’s like sellin’ theirselves to deal at the company store.” “They should have come to me with their grievances; but it is too late to talk of that now, and immediate steps must be taken to prevent the mischief. It won't be policy for you to show yourself until my plans have been perfected, otherwise they would take alarm. The boy can go home, and I want him to be in the breaker this morning as if nothing had happened, Where can you remain in hiding for a few days?” “T don’t know, sir, unless I leave town.” “That will not do, for I may wish to talk with you again.” “He can come with me,” Fred said quickly. ‘We do not know any one here, and there’s no danger of his being discov- ered.” “Tt’s a good idea. Go with the boy, Brace, and I can let you know when it will be safe to venture out.” “Very well, sir; but don’t deal harshly with Billings’ crowd. They’ve tried to do me the most harm one man can work an- other; but yet, for the sake of their wives an’ children, I’d not feel easy in mind if they was turned away without warning.” “T promise to be as lenient as is consis- tent with the safety of others,” Mr. Wright ri plied, as Fred and the miner left the slope, walking rapidly lest they should be observed, and a few moments later Mrs. Byram was clasping to her bosom the son whom she had feared was What are you How lost to her forever on this earth. It was not long that Fred could remain an’ at home. He had promised to go to ee ee breaker, and after he and Brace partook H a hearty meal, at the conclusion of which © “mn; the latter was shown to a room wher You t there was no chance of his being seen, ec started out, with the promise to mt ; Yate mother that he would be very careful. Pan By some channel of information @ Alon, news had been spread that the missimgy the n boy returned home during the night, an@agy | «4, no one paid any particular attention i “Sh him as he walked down the street; but OB} Tyg ~ entering the breaker Skip Miller and hi8} ‘ang i friends were decidedly disturbed. THE ) ,.eader of the regulators glanced from Fred | “WF to Donovan as if expecting he woul “On called upon to give an account of his mis ~ten deeds; but Chunky, who had evidently If ; not been let into the secret, greeted DB “Tt mate as if the latter’s return was sOm@5@ hp, thing he had expected. Shgag, “Where was you last night?” he askeds, ing wi “I went out near the old shaft,” Pq) "vy, replied, and Skip, who overheard the — They words appeared to be very much re lieved» 9] anq en “T thought you’d run away.’ » 4 dR, “Why should I do anything like thab@ 7 “Can “T dunno, ’cept that you wanted to ge) “Cer clear of the thumpin’ that the regulato®] “Sha promised.” t fax & “I’m not such a fool as that,” Fred 109 Now plied, carelessly, and then the outpouril@ Jectio, of coal put an end to further conversatioke Present (TO ae 4 ma Only an Irish Boy; jyte: OR, ~ | Money ny a Mong! Andy Burke's Fortuyes and Misfortafhy yeti Pte Pe S By HORATIO ALGER, Jr., 11 ome Y Author of “Ragged Dick,” “Fame and Fortum@ 4) “y° p ma. Vi “Sink or Swim,” “Tattered Tom,” “Bram > indig and Bold,” etc. K Riek [“ONtY AN IRISH Boy” was commenced in No.l wane be Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents] Di her. ” aa ee Fi f Andy 7 y A as tg CHAPTER XXVI. 1 “Wy: ie SPINNING THE WEB. 7 ack.” a * Ca) vA NDY had already decided how he Using yf 2 would spend the afternoon. He} a | hop tifa, \\. heard a good deal about the Bostee lane! re | <©35* Museum, its large collection Og Md Mt, | curiosities, and the plays that oa performed there. One of the pleasante™ 9 /anticipations he had was of a visit @ A CY ‘this place, the Paradise of coum a | people. Now that his business was Cua | cluded, he determined to go there at OB& 9“ inte, But first he must inquire the way. , it] to Sery, Turning round, he saw Fairfax with?) tone ' recognizing him. ton et | “Can you direct me to the Bos | “t Museum?” he asked. «fas Ry: & “Certainly, with pleasure,” said Fal fe fax, with alacrity. “In fact I am going toe Alife i myself. I suppose you are going tO 7% Nigh afternoon performance?” ables Te OG Mts aye , “Have you ever been there?” 0; ‘s a R “No, but I have heard a good deal abot am it. I don’t live in the city.” 2 “Nor do I,” said Fairfax. “I am @ me tng in chant of Portland, Maine. I have Cong Not i Pe the city to buy my winter stock of Big “Al Sha As I only come twice a ‘year, I genera a Ty l rig try to enjoy myself a little while ait 4 fey, here. Do you stay in the city over WIB™ — | “Yes,” said Andy. “So do I. Here is the museum.” |. gg | They had reached the museum, whichy ad | some of my readers are aware, is situ® |in Tremont street. fas “We go up these stairs,” said Fall) “Tf you don’t object we will take seats 4 ether.” ‘i gail f ha | “T shall be glad to have company; ~ # | Andy, politely. neds EY | Reserved seats adjoining were furne ic nt and the adventurer and his intended tim entered the museum. el There was a short interval befor” el lay commenced. This Andy im ct 7 te, fs W ti hy er by examining the large stock 9 all parts of the world for the a osities which have been gathered cation of visitors. Fairfax kept # f §,lltg, Ver side, and spoke freely of all they pn ite pe a | There was something about him iat ri, iy Cke seemed to Andy strangely fa” iii ied Ay | / Was it in his features, or ay wib ethltteg e” | voice? He could not tell. The ren en tty land whiskers misled him. Andy oi N e Th | set it down as a mere chance resem W tes me lg iy! Nip} a ad to some one whom he had met for | and dismissed it from his mind. DP Ys, 8a ht fs it sense the increasing crowds pour! Real t ag the lecture-room reminded the” 7) ‘eng * sh the lay was about to begin. ts eed Y “Shall we go in and take our at felnctter said Fairfax. " t | Andy assented, and they were | into their seats. | Ido not propose to speak of the was a novelty to Andy to see @ a representation, and he thoroughly +0 it. Fairfax was more accustomed things, but pretended to be equally ested, feeling that in this way os ingratiate himself better into Andy ~ fidence. , spe Jay: At last it was over, and they went out » dhe building. Cri you like it?” asked Behrens , , -top,” sai , promptly. “ Don’ Jou think xo ay Andy, promptly Wl. Capital,” answered Fairfax, with sim- need delight. “I am glad I had com- flow: don’t enjoy anything half as well ' oe By the way, where do you pass R tL Night?” «e’'Some hotel—I don’t know which?” T've Uppose you go to the Adams House. and ieee to stop over night somewhere, Dan might be pleasanter going in com- 49 here is the Adams House?” Shen ashington street, not very far off or fifteen minutes’ walk.” “4 88 @ good place I’m willing.’ in pri ‘8 an excellent hotel, and moderate ehgage” e might go up there now, and ing o¢ 2 room, and then spend the even- Ve ere we like.” They Well,” said Andy. and yh Soon reached the Adams House ang yvered. They walked up to the desk, etx spoke to the clerk. 5 , t YOu give us a room?” oO : oe 4 «gietainly, Enter your names.” fax all we room together?” asked Fair- calmly. jection, Andy, though he had had no ob- Present to £Oing to the theater with his 4} %om yi@Panion, did not care to take a | Nothin ith a stranger, of whom he knew + Man ie € might be a very respectable Why, a SOmehow, Andy did not know 7) Which ;°?@ was something in his manner the mausPired a little repulsion. Besides a Money €mbered that he had considerable ag | Alone mee him, and that consideration a grt himesered it imprudent for him to 1 She g Self in the power of a companion. “y Said a little awkwardly: we'd better take separate 4} Ndi red Well,” said Fairfax,.in a tone of Much ane Se he really felt very 1 | have ee PPointe . “I thought it might a Rethey » & little more social to be to- a far as did ‘hot take the hint, except so « Ne We ay: : : a take rooms alongside of each ae Bive you adjoining rooms, if you _ the clerk. ' Renere entered his namein the ster as : Nathaniel Marvin, Port- b > While Andy put down his ‘ Coty Aes, His companion’s was, of 10 Rv the Ctitious, tt FPP reo, 2 He did not venture to eognian’ of Fairfax, as that might yr phi i come Rhye Zed by Andy as that of the vr once | tad interns, With whose little plans he Se . th sjant Was called, and they went up yoiseg Tooms, which, as the clerk had wt Were ere found to be adjoining. Very © precisley alike. fate X, jomforta le, Mr. Burke,” said Sh “T x2 tone of apparent satisfac- BD Me night nink we shall have a comfort- «© Ba ” ° wAre ee: _ Said Andy. a ayo; PE goin’ to stay here now?’’ ] Sn ke ,22'n’ to wash my face, and oy tthin, % Walk round. I want to see f ting Phin the city.” TAX, Perha ll lie‘down a while; I feel f ma U shall “PS we shall meet later. If Wy i tight you in the morning.” 1 a fey. Said Andy. tf Minutes he went out. CHAPTER XXVIIL. THE DROP GAME, ie b x had an object in remain- there ®hind. He wanted to see if t pinto hea any way for him to get @ Ndy’s room during the night, ay Bteat eaght rob him in his sleep. To 5 Con ‘Sfaction he found that there Day, ate ween the two rooms, for the af Hen}, Who n of persons in the same RS, 7, Vished 3 +. ee in, It to be in adjoining apart- ax was, however, locked, but IS Ww. iy Benoy oS not unprepared for such an Othe, ket 21 © took a bunch of keys from Won) in the ‘tied them, one after an- ita. Ve lock. There was one that Sang 1X Wag Rearly fit. For this again le Pocke: Ptepared. He took from the Sa and began patiently to Vera] ey till it should fit. He tts“, But times before he found that is. The q.2¢ last success crowned his W Pes qnoor opened.” Ine ced with excitement as'he & Nj io ied 48 wel] 10 himself” is POU ras! | hi e in the same room,” the 7 i Yene * Shai) “Self. “Now, you young ff tata Bee take your money, and be are goal® tit Arefy 12 you at’ the same time.” a7 lly oO k ai wee, at "h eked the door, and then, 4 © had done all that was 0 at present, went down It looked pleas- ‘rossed the street, and ) entered. He walked wherever fancy led, and then found himself after a while in a comparatively secluded part: Here he met with an adventure which I must describe. Rather a shabby-looking individual in front of him suddenly stooped and picked up a pocket-book, which appeared to be well filled with money. He looked up, and met Andy’s eyes fixed upon it. This was what he wanted. “Here’s a pocket-book,” he said. “Some- body must have dropped it.” Andy was interested. “Tt seems to have considerable money in it,” said the finder. “Open it and see,” said Andy, “T hain’t time. I have got to leave the city by the next train. I mean I haven’t time to advertise it, and get the reward which the owner will be sure to offer. Are you going to stay in the city long?” “T’'m going out to-morrow.” “T must go to-night. I wish I knew what to do.” He seemed to be plunged into anxious thought. “T’ll_ tell you what I’ll do,” he said, as if a bright idea had suddenly struck him. “You take the pocket-book, and advertise it. If the owner is found, he will give you a reward. If not the whole will be- long to you.” “All right,” said Andy. “Hand it over.” “Of course,” said the other, “I shall ex- pect something myself, as I was the one to find it.” “T'll give you half.” “But [ shall be out of the city. I'l tell you what—give me ten dollars and I’ll make it over to you.” “That’s rather steep,” said Andy. “Heft it. There must be a lot of money inside.” “I’m afraid the reward might be less than ten dollars,” said Andy. ‘ “Well, I’m in a great hurry—give me ve.” It is possible that Andy, who was not acquainted with the “drop game,” might have agreed to this, but a policeman hove in sight, and the shabby individual scut- tled away without further ceremony, leav- ing Andy a little surprised, with the pocket-book in his hand. “What’s he in such a hurry for?” thought our hero. He opened the pocket-book, and a light flashed upon him as he discovered that there was no money inside, but was stuffed out with rolls of paper. “He wanted to swindle me,” thought Andy. “It’s lucky I didn’t pay him five dollars. Any way I'll keep it. The pocket- book is worth something.” He put it in his pocket, without taking the trouble to remove the contents. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE GUEST OF TWO HOTELS, A NDY wandered about till nine Xx o’clock, determined to see as much “L4\\ of the city as possible in the lim- “> ited time which he had at his dis- posal; but at last he became tired, and re- turned to the hotel. Fairfax was seated in the reading-room. He looked up as aa entered. “Have you been looking round the city?” he asked. “Yes,” said Andy; “I wanted to im- prove my time.” - “I suppose, as this is your first visit, you see a good deal that is new?” “Tt’s all new,” said Andy. “I feel tired walking round so much.” “No doubt. Are you going to bed now?” “T guess I'll turn in.” “T sha’n’t go up quite yet. I have been staying here quietly and I don’t feel tired. I shall go up in the course of an hour or two.” “Good-night, then,” said Andy. “Good-night. I hope you’ll sleep sound,” said Fairfax, who was certainly entirely sincere in his wish, as the success of his lans depended on the soundness:of our 1ero’s repose. Andy went upstairs and lighted the gas in his bed-room. He noticed the door com- municating with the next room, and tried it, but found it to be locked. “That's all right," said Andy. “Nobody can get in that way.” He locked the principal door and bolted it also, which seemed to make him per- fectly secure. “Now,” thought he, after undressing, “where shall I put the money?” This was an important question, as he had between five hundred and a thousand dollars belonging to the Misses Grant, of which it was his duty to take even more care than if it belonged to himself. S person in the room is sufficient to = interrupt even sound repose. At all ~ events, whether it was the entrance of Wairfax acting in some mysterious way upon Andy, or the light that streamed into the room, his slumber was disturbed, and his. eyes opened just as the adventurer was ow retiring with his supposed booty. Our hero did not immediately take in the situation. He was naturally a little bewildered, being just aroused from sleep; am as badly off as before, may be worse, for, but in a short time the real state of the "I have exposed myself to suspicion, and case dawned upon him, 9 iin SE Tee wet ES 3 5 Sa LS +- = Sirens ae. mame ndod rns - FA eae Foes Game a pc REST “= 140 “By the powers!” he said to himself, “it’s that man that went to the museum with me. He saw my money, and he came in for it—I’ll get up and see.” Quietly and noiselessly he got out of bed, and going to the chair, felt in his pockets, and so discovered the loss of the stuffed pocket-book. Andy wanted to laugh, but forebore lest the sound should be heard in the next room. “It’s agood joke on the dirty thafe,” said Andy to himself. “He’s welcome to all the money he’s got—it won’t carry him far, I’m thinkin’.” Prudence suggested another thought. When Fairfax found out the worthless- ness of his booty, would he not come back and search for the treasure? “Tf he does I’ll fight him,” thought ndy. Still he knew the conflict would be un- equal, since the other was considerably his superior in strength. However, Andy de- termined that, come what might, he would defend his trust, “or perish in the at- tempt.” But while he was coming to this determination, he heard the door of the adjoining chamber open softly, and then he could hear steps along the corridor. Evidently the thief had not found out the actual character of his booty, but was going off under the impression that it was valuable. “Maybe he’ll come back,” thought Andy. “T guess I’d better go down and give notice at the desk. Then if he comes back he’ll get into hot water.” He hastily dressed himself, and, locking his door, went down stairs. First, how- ever, he removed the money from under his pillow and put it into his pocket. He found the clerk at the desk. “Has the man that came in with me gone out?” asked Andy. “Mr. Marvin?” - ‘ ” “He went out about five minutes ago.” “Did he say anything about coming back?” “He said it would be late when he re- turned. twelve. Did you want to find him?” “T should like to have the police find him,” said Andy. “How is that?” demanded the clerk, sur- prised. “He has robbed me.” “Did you leave your door unlocked?” “No; but there was a door between our rooms. He opened it, and stole a pocket- book from the pocket of my coat.” “While you were asleep?” “Yes, but I woke just in time to see him go through the door.” “How much money was there in it?” “That’s the joke of it,” said Andy, laugh- ing; “there was no money at all, only some folds of paper. He got hold of the wrong pocket-book.” Thereupon he told the story of the “drop ame” of which he came near being the | £ victim, and what a useful turn the bogus treasure had done him. “There’s the right pocket-book,” he said, Nin conclusion. “I wish you would take ‘are of it for me till to-morrow. The ~leyey isn’t mine, and I don’t want to run any more risk with it.” zs 4 ll lock it up in the safe for you,” said ene clerk. “Is there much?” “Several hundred dollars.” “You were very fortunate in escaping as you did,“ said the clerk. “True for you,” said Andy. “He may come back when he finds out how he has been fooled.” “Tf he does I’ll call in a policeman. We'll make short work of him.” The reader has already heard how Fair- fax (or Marvin) did return, and how he met with a reception he had not calcu- lated upon. Andy was informed in the morning that it would be necessary for him to appear as a witness against him in order to secure his conviction. This he did the next day, but the judge delayed sentence, on being informed that the ac- cused was charged with a more serious offense, that of stopping a traveler on the highway. His trialon this count must come before a higher court, and he was re- manded to prison till his case was called in the calendar. Andy was informed that he would be summoned as a witness in that case also, as well as Colonel Preston, and answered that he would be ready when called upon. We will so far anticipate events as to a“ that the testimony of Andy and the colonel was considered conclusive by the court, and on the strength of it Mr. Fair- fax, alias Marvin, was sentenced to sev- eral years’ imprisonment at hard labor. 3 xly met with no ‘further adventures in his present visit, but had the satisfac- tion of delivering the money he had been sent to collect to Miss Priscilla Grant. Now, advancing our story some three months, we come to an afternoon when Miss Sophia Grant, returning from a walk with visible marks of excitement, rushed into her sister’s presence breathless and panting. “What’s the matter, Sophia?” asked Priscilla. : “Such an awful thing!” she gasped, He asked if we kept open after | GoOoD “What is it?” “You won’t believe it!” “Tell me at once what it is.” “Tt seems so sudden.” “Good Heavens! Sophia, why do you tantalize me so?” “Just so!” gasped Sophia. “Tf you don’t tell me, I’ll shake you.” “Colonel Preston’s dead—dropped dead in the store ten minutes ago. I was there, and saw him.” This startling intelligence was only too true. Suddenly, without an instant’s warning, the colonel had been summoned from life—succumbing to a fit of apo- plexy. This event, of course, made a great sensation in the village, but it is of most interest to us, as it affects the fortunes of our young hero. (TO BE CONTINUED.) BY HARRY HORR. THE SIXTH SPARK. COFFEE-POT DICK THROWS OFF TENDER REMINISCENCES OF OLD PELICAN P, M. AT GOOSE CREEK, Qw TN T was growing late, yet the boys ‘I heeded not the speeding hours as they AL volubly discoursed on one theme, S> Each was narrating, with marked emphasis at times, their reminiscences of great men. Geyser George had been with Grant in the army, and drank wine with him in the White House. Quiet Jim had often ac- cepted a seat behind Vanderbilt’s fast trotter. Wolverine Williams had fre- quently danced in the same set with Gen- eral Sherman. Happy Adam gave Jay Gould his first stake when that unfortu- nate first went into stocks. Rustling Tom was the companion of Horace Greeley on his memorable overland trip. Quartz Joe had paid for sharpening picks and drills for Mackey & Fair, the PR cnavinieth: and in fact each member of the circle had been intimate with one or more of America’s famous men, Coffee-pot Dick was the last to come to the front with his reminiscences, which flowed along in this smooth manner: “T’ve been on the trail a long time, and camped with many a great man. Every one of these big guns, whose extensive caliber was somewhat owing to having formed my acquaintance, would have been Presidents or Senators, or Indian agents, if they hadn’t resided in the Territories where a fellow’s friends can’t rally around him and throw in a vote or two between drinks. Somehow genius don’t seem to thrive in this thin atmosphere—I mean the kind of genius that camps with politics. Now, when we have a way up old-timer, brimful of learning and running over with ability, and us fellows are getting ready to bet our last ounce that he is going to get a certain Federal position—then we all get left. Why? Because some fourth- rate lawyer—some played-out, rum-suck- ing dead beat of a decayed politician— comes out from the States with his little gripsack, and takes. a position he is as competent to fill as I am to teach music in a female seminary, or keep a strict account of the drinks these carpet-baggers entice the barkeepers_ to put for safe keeping on their slates. No, boys, them ain’t the great men I’m barking about, and I ain’t a-going to insult white men by mention- ing them. But I have known great men. Now there was Sim Larkey. Sim was a genius. He was a lover of art when young. His studio was an expansive one. The roof was heaven’s own blue, and Mother Earth rustled around and furnished the carpeting. He was an artist. His wood- cuts were thrown off to his admirers with a rapidity bordering on the reckless. I used to file his saw for him, and he owes me a balance on account of one dollar and six bits, but like him, I will let it pass. Sim at last became a nabob sawyer, and had three portable saw-mills running, each with a whole Chinaman as engineer, boss sawyer, and all. Soon. he got to running with a machine, which of course gave him an entrance into the highest political NEWS. circles. Sim now discharged the gentle- man from China, and substituted therefor white men, after adding three more port- able saw-mills and investing in a large, gold-headed cane, a amar diamond-pin, and a weak-eyed bulldog. This made him popular with the masses. “At the next election he came out as coroner, and was given a grand, compli- mentary supper, which he paid for on the sly. His impromptu speech delivered on that occasion, and written for him before the election, cost him twenty dollars, be- sides numerous drinks. He was coroner for three terms, and here is where his greatness cropped out. “During that time he became well versed with legal and medical terms. Everything he could pick up at an inquest pertaining to either profession he stowed away in his mind’s garret. At last he tossed up an eagle to see which he would be, a lawyer or doctor. That day he went to a _paint- shop, and a week after the sign read: Ds... “SIM L Aas Ey Dias ps PHYSICIAN, SURGEON, &c., &c. Office Hours from M. to P.M. “He just coined money, and had the sat- isfaction of sending more over the river and up the long trail than he ever sat upon in the palmiest days of his coroner- ship. He eventually died by taking a dose of his own medicine through mistake. His virtues and all that went with him. I only speak of Dr. Sim Larkey just to show that genius is as liable to camp with a successful wood sawyer as she is to break out on a common roustabout. But the greatest public man I ever knew was ‘Old Pelican.’ I don’t remember his front name, and I reckon he was born without one just like Emperor William and Queen Victoria. Howsomever a great man like him didn’t need but one name in his busi- ness. Before I got acquainted with him he was engaged in raising cattle. How he raised them I ain’t agoing to say, simply because the grand jury couldn’t quite agree on it themselves. Hiowicuewee that business as carried on by him had too many perplexing cares and annoying anxieties connected with it, and so he lit out to enjoy the peace and quietude, gen- erally loafing in the Goose Creek deestrict. “He was there about two months when ae was appointed postmaster. This shows 10W Washington, or probably he got the office because no one else would have it. When he received news of his appointment you would think from his actions that he had been commissioned lieutenant-general in the army and admiral in the navy both at once. He set them up for the boys by the gallon, and just as they were having a royal old time he got the blues—his heart was on the ground. Says he, ‘Boys, I’ll just bet when all the folks on the river ear about my being a genuine postmaster the durn cusses will git jealous like, and they’1l open out a post-office on every other ranch.’ We swore that we would stand in with him and would not allow any opposition outfit to start_up. Now, all this don’t go to show that Old Pelican wasagreat man. But his first report to the department showed genius cropping out all along, the ledge. If this don’t show he was great then I give itup. I tooka copy of the document, and have got it right here. Listen to it: “ “MISTER POSTMASTER-GENERAL, Esq: “ *Dear Sir:—As you want it, and I’m through haying, I send you my quarterly report. I think this will be more than a quarter of a report, and if you will give me credit for half a one, then send the balance in stamps. My family is quite well. We didn’t churn last week on ac- count of a pole-cat getting into the milk- house. By the way, what do you folks pay for butter in quire price of skunk-skins. Goose Creek is real low, but the Yellowstone is up on its ear. The Injuns are real good. In this immediate vicinity they are all up in trees waiting to jump aboard of Gabriel’s first train on the great air-line. I hain’t got much to do in the post-office business lately. I manage to read the postal-cards and papers all Chica in aday. Some of the boys complain of a taking papers out to read and putting them in the wrong wrappers, but I do this so that they can have a variety of reading matter. “T wish you would order the customers of this office to subscribe for picture apers, and have them send for novels. he fact is I’m getting tired of readin Montana papers, and they are about al the kind that comes here. I got a letter so here the other day by mistake. It elonged to the Helena office. I knew it did because it had a brass lock and ours have iron ones. I couldn’t unlock it, and being afraid that some of our mail might have got in there by mistake, I therefore opened it by cutting the strap with a butcher knife. You needn’t fret about it, for I complied with the requirements of the law by tacking on a’ piece of paste- board with the words opened by mistake, and also cautioning them under the pen- alam the law not to use this pouch for letters again, Some of the boys thought opular he was with the folks at} ashington? Also in- | a it would be about the square thing for BY to divide up the Helena mail betWe” them, but I didn’t think so, and trush@Sq © the department will back me up im” I’m doing pretty well in the stamp bus! ness, selling ten of the three-cent ones © high as fifty cents. I make a little redi tion when folks take five dollars’ wort) Some smart alecks say I’ve just got 10° | stamps for what they are. If I sesl HM) cent stamps for three cents, and so ODy like to know how I’m going to gev® tobacco money ahead. I wish you WO) send me a power of attorney to arrest) persons who find fault with the rummy of this office. My health is only so 8% J my wife sends her usual regards to 7g Postmaster-General, and incloses @ Mg of calico which your wife will Pe match in Washington and send wus eit teen yards of the same. For her #G you can deduct the amount from MY 24 Sis week’s salary, and the balance over * in tobacco, a gallon of Jamaica rae sin what’s left take it out in paragori¢ 9 “@% his — ¥ Th “ ‘Prrrcan, & & Sha little hood for the baby. “ «Yours officially, “ “Witness, CorrgE-Pot Dick.’ mark | th : , iy, tt “Now if that ain’t an able document) You a person whornever went to Harvar 1004 umbia, or Sing Sing, then I WOW sy; know one when I saw it. This is th@@s % one he sent. At the meridian of his t of he invited the grim monster to re 04 A his door-step. It came about in this ™ a Ibe ~ au Ib One day a postal-card came writ Chinese characters. Old Pelican best to decipher it. The more he te less he got out of it. At last, owing excessive strain on his brain, he 10 postal-card in one hand, and with other wrapped the waters of Goose “jy around his official form, and went et place where mail pouches are DIS ig chilled iron, if they have any, and f masters’ commissions are forward brimstone envelopes.” son ott “But, Dick, how Go you make hu®™ great man?” queried Honest Ned. | gf “If he didn’t prove himself great ad cdi did? Any other postmaster would? “pj AW he any attention to that postal-cat@r, ah. Pelican was different. He tackle@ “iq didn’t get away with it. So to sur lse he thought his days of official uS@* agg had passed if he couldn’t deciphet sf thing passing through his office. he wouldn’t want to live if he W cil beat by a contemptible China posta 4 This was the last camel that bust® of and. hare’s back. He was beat by thé Palo.” ; dey US THE OR Tan. § Peg c and great man as he was_he took yi ti him. He couldn’t decipher ib “eg! bs to he might down there. The post-O pi? ful partment went into mourning for “4 the ' thirty days. Pass the vial.” tio, —__+_+_~¢-0-o Ae in, A. he Fun With a Cork Lee: Beg. hi be E hope that none of the J iio® 0} \ Vi of Goon News. will ee shige, >) need to amuse themsel¥ xing “T ke, - a man who used to ©2 Uiin Yon: great deal of fun out of a cork Jed: oat Dh, h he nearly scared an old gentlemipes h his wits. It was in this wa¥* opt © cork leg was a very well-made (iglt ; when its owner.was seated you tell the. difference between the false article. One day my frie? railway car, and opposite him entleman. My friend took c tone i. OR, i — Worst Boy IN THE WARD. rae) apis it out By “FRANK,” - Author of “Smart Aleck,” etc. oor ay tees" was e eat Ww a an’t [Je G ro 5 aa commenced in No.1. Back numbers I ‘+ afl é obtain d of all News Agents.] d ain a oe ts i un oe NUMBER NINE. A DUEL TO THE DEATH. R. NOODLEHEIMER’S face was 4 picture as he stood gazing at € rapidly increasing crowd of Men, women, children, animals, hy vCles, The street in front of the Ploy.) 2S blocked with wagons, and the ge Ik Wa r Rite BS, Size S covered with people of all Iki g S, colors, and nationalities, all ite 8 0 the bewildered Dutchman at d where does this coffin go?” in- a rtbanicn Undertaker’s man, as he and a bs na, tea elbowed their way through the mized ne a casket big enough for a “LQ * W der mischiefs vas I going to told ‘ Toared Mr. Noodleheimer. “Vat iny “ings of dis?” Yoodleheimer’s saloon?” de- dertaker, fiercely. jthis is all right, Mr. Noodle- is ¢: ead, and this is his coffin. ma! Tag 2e body?” » Wild) "ght here,” shrieked the old ned I vas Noodleheimer, und I S Ste’ Be as you ae aie ae <= inet,” 4 at you sent fer, Mr. Noodle- N ona anetposed a seedy looking man, 4 Ty his y,,Stically colored nose, as he | ha hig ne to the saloon door. Fis shad eyins he carried an elderly cat AMeg°e wouently seen much trouble, for ok Wg a Less a: an expression of intense / pet® deg. 0 t at hich the rightness and ani- -oflie Maint dis Surrounded it seemed power- for B 4 a Bee el It was a cat that had Peat Cong ach of life, and had arrived FH 4-9 op USion that all is vanity and jing . Spirit. RG held ¢ andsome?” inquired the man, Bag” e's © animal by the nape of the thi 80t blue blood in him, he 8 is just the cat you’re look- Oodleheimer, and make no ee tapi Ulg fy howioe mat dot cat if you gif me to red tay aaa oko Pan ld man, excitedly. - fy.» 8't have him?” r, Noodleheimer made several re- © cat’s personal appearance Oongue. ; hot understand German, but i, Vidently did, for he made a .. tom his owner’s arms and his ood ee oon-keeper’s head. th mave ‘ €imer set up a_howl that Heb, Wea, 2 heard at the distance of Sita Ut th © cat fixed its claws in his ay nsenit, animal did not let go until N the dt a map of the Southern aq © Old man’s ee Then he slid u § * Ss 7 “4 . his Baier the street, closely ny Ione ntime the crowd had been ) tag Up qs in size. A doctor came ‘been fmanding to see the man Shot in the saloon, and was highly indignant when he learned that his patient was only a myth. At about the same time a clergyman ap- egbiee on the scene and announced that 1e had come in response to a request to officiate at Mr. Noodicheithen’s funeral. There were now butchers, bakers, gro- cers, caterers, wine merchants, icemen, furniture dealers, hatters, tailors, shoe- makers, milliners, in short, representatives of about every trade in the city assembled in front of the saloon, all talking to the | half distracted Mr. Noodleheimer at once. | And Swipes, Hemorrhage, and the pro- | fessor were inside getting “dead loads” of fun out of the affair. “Ain’t this great?” inquired the youth, cheerfully. “IT should say it was,” grinned the re- orter. “Here’s your money, Swipes. 3ut Noodleheimer will crush the life out of you if he finds out that you are at the bottom of this.” “Oh, how is he going to find out? You will not give me away?” “No, Swipes, you may depend upon me.” “ And the professor won’t, I know, for he had as much to do with the racket as I did—more, in fact, for he wrote the letters < all these people, telling them to come ere.” “No, Swipes,” said the old man. “I will not betray you. But what is that man saying?” The individual referred to was an Irish- man in the crowd, who was addressing his companions with considerable warmth. “Do yez know what Oi t’ink?” he de- manded. “Oi belave that this is.all a job put up by that Dootchman, an’ Oi move that we clane his place out.” GOOD NEWS. less. “Yer put up the job yerself, an’ yer’ve got off easy. See?” When at last the place was cleared of the mob, and it ha dispersed, several other individuals made their appearance, headed by an elderly man dressed in somber black, who introduced himself as the undertaker who had been ee in his attempt to give Mr. Noodleheimer a respectable funeral. “My dear sir,” he began, “speaking for myself and for my companions, I desire to know the meaning of all this. I have been put to a great deal of inconvenience and expense by this extraordinary affair, and I demand an explanation. Who is responsible for this outrage?” “You told me dot und I vill gif you feefty tollar,” bawled Mr. Noodleheimer. “Tf I find me owit who dot loofer vas I vill knock him py der middle of der veek pefore last.” It was so plain that the old man’s in- dignation was genuine that his hearers were convinced at once. “This matter ought to be investigated,” thundered the undertaker. “ been the victim of an infamous trick.” “TI should’t say so. Look vonce at dot | empty peer keg und dose proken glasses.” “An investigation ought to be institued.” “I vill constitute dot inwestigation bretty plamed quick, und don’d you forgot dot neider.” At this point the door of the back room opened, and Swipes, Professor Gallus, and Mr. Hemorrhage entered the saloon. The latter two individuals endeavored to look as unconscious as possible, but only partially succeeded. wipes, however, VERNON. Qk Kaine ie wef WA QS = a a See LW ~ Bees! NS IS om HI ee SERENE TD # TRS bee SSR SANS 3 reDS wy See SOY TSS ES THE NEXT MOMENT, TO PROFESSOR GALLUS’ HORROR, MR. NOODLEHEIMER FELL HEAVILY TO THE GROUND. “We'll do it!” yelled half a dozen men in the crowd. “Are yez all wid me?” continued the Irishman, his eyes glistening at the pros- pect of a “scrimmage.” “We are!” returned fully two-thirds of the men present. “Thin come an!” They “came an,” and down went Mr. Noodleheimer, who attempted to prevent their entrance. In about thirty seconds the saloon was filled with a howling mob. “Bring in the Dootchman,” roared the Trishman, “an’ make him open a: keg of beer for the crowd.” Mr. Noodleheimer was borne in on the shoulders of several of his unwelcome guests, and ordered, on pain of death, to tap the keg. Seeing that he had no alter- native, he consented to do so. But when he called upon Swipes to as- sist him that youth was nowhere to be found. Nor was the professor or Mr. Hemorrhage visible. The three conspirators had taken refuge in the back room, and had double-locked the door. But several of his visitors helped Mr. Noodleheimer to put the keg in place; and in a very short time it had been tapped and emptied. “Dis vas offle!” groaned the old man. “Some feller haf a chob put up py me, und [ vill get sqvare if it cost me ein Rpondent tollar, und don’d you forgot | oO aoe “That’s all right, Dutch,” said the tramp | who had brought the dog, as he filed out | with several dozen others, after having consumed a dozen glasses of beer, more or wore an expression so innocent and child- like that the hearts of the visitors were touched as soon as they glanced at him, and there was not one of them who would not have taken up the cudgel in his de- fense, if any one had dared accuse him of being the prime mover in the trick of which they had all been the victims. “My dear Mr. Noodleheimer,” went on the undertaker, “these gentlemen and my- self have all received letters directing us to come here at a certain hour this morn- ing with our wares, and we have obeyed the summons. I, for my part, had a coffin made expressly for you, all the measure- ments being given in the communication which I received. Every one of these communications, with the exception of the one received by me, were signed with your name, so if you can find the perpe- trator of the alleged joke you can have him tried for forgery.” “Oh,” cried Swipes, stepping behind the bar and taking his place by Mr. Noodle- heimer’s side, “is it possible that any hu- man being could be so base?” “What a nerve that boy has got!” mur- mured Hemorrhage, admiringly. “Of course, it isa difficult thing for a child like you to realize,” said the under- taker, patting Swipes on the head with a aternal air, “but it is, nevertheless, a act that such persons do exist. Here, Mr. Noodleheimer, is the letter I_ received. Perhaps, you can identify the handwrit- ing.” ria he handed the saloon-keeper the communication in question. The old man unfolded it and glance at it. At the same moment Swipes, who was looking over his shoulder, whispered in his ear: t is evi- | dent, Mr. Noodleheimer, that you have | 141 “Oh, Mr. Noodleheimer, do you not re- cognize that hnadwriting?” “Nein, I dinks not,” replied the old man. “Why, it is Professor Gallus.” “Py chimminy,” roared Noodleheimer. “TI vas onto dot whole scheme now.” “What is the matter, my dear sir?” in- quired the professor, who had been talk- ing to Hemorrhage, while Swipes was ad- dressing the old man, and had not ob- served the youth’s movements. “Vatis der madder? I vill show you qvick right avay vat is der madder!” howled the infuriated Teuton. One glance at his face showed Professor Gallus that his part of the scheme was discovered. Believing discretion to be the better part of valor, he made a grand rush for the door, with the old German close at his heels. A moment later they were both Tee down the street at the top of their speed. “Well, Swipes,” said Hemorrhage, “I’ve got. money that says you put old man Noodleheimer onto that. You are a ter- ror, Swipes. You have got enough gall for two reporters. I could not say more.” “You wrong me,” said the youth with a hurt look. “If I had had any idea that Mr. Noodleheimer would offer the profes- sor personal violence I would not have dropped the hint that I did.” “Oh, you acknowledge that you did drop a hint, do you? Well, Lean tell you one thing; if I had had any idea that you were going to work any such racket as this I cette not have made the bet with you. Just look around you; why, the saloon is a complete wreck !” “T know it is,” responded Swipes, as he gazed sadly around him, “and I regret it as deeply as you do. But here comes Mr. Noodleheimer.” As he spoke the old man entered the saloon, bleeding profusely from the nose. “Dot loofer Tat escaped me alretty,” he said; “but I pet you I vill be efen mit him pooty qvick. Dot vas der plamedest drick efer I haf heardt of.” “Yes,” said Swipes as he gazed around him with a shocked expression of coun- tenance, “I think the professor went too far. As you know, Mr. Noodleheimer, I do not object to a harmless little joke my- self once in a while, but this affair is simply an outrage. I had no idea_ that Professor Gallus could be so bold and bad.” “Vell, I pet you he will be sorry for me ven I catch him, ain’d it?” thundered Noodleheimer. “Shoost look at dot saloon. Vasn’t dot offle?” “Tt is, indeed, a very painful sight,” said Swipes, “and it will cost you large money to repair the damage. Mr. Noodle- heimer, you have been grossly insulted.” “You vas right, Schvipes.’ “In my opinion there is but one course opén to you in this matter!” “Vat you mean, Schvipes?” “T mean—and I think Mr. Hemorrhage will agree with me—that you ought to challenge the professor to mortal combat.” “Vat is dot?” inquired the old man, with a bewildered look. “Why, I mean that you and he ought to fight a duel. That is the only way in which such an affair can be settled by gentlemen.” “Nonsense!” interrupted Hemorrhage. “There’s no need of anything of the sort. The idea is absurd.” “Vell, I don’d know,” said Mr. Noodle- heimer, reflectively. “I vill dink me dot madder ofer. Und now I vas going home. Clean der blace oop, qvick right avay, Schvipes.” “Yes, sir “Now what the mischief put it into your head to suggest a duel?” asked Hemorrhage, when the old nam had gone. “Do you want those two old lunatics to kill each other?” “Certainly not,” said Swipes. “What did you want to interfere for and try to spoil the sport, Mr. Hemorrhage? We can get lots of fun out of this duel.” “How?” “Why, I don’t mean to let them hurt each other; I only want to scarce the professor a little.” : : “Oh, the laugh is to be on him this time, is it?” : “Yes; it’s his turn now. He’s had loads of amusement to-day out of Mr. Noodle- heimer, and it’s time now that the tables were turned.” : “Oh, you’re going to let Noodleheimer into the scheme, are you?” “Yes. Now let me explain the thing to you, and then see if you don’t want to go in with me.” “All right,” laughed the reporter, when Swipes had given him an outline of his plot. “I’m with you. When shall we commence operations?” “Right away, of course.” That evening Professor Gallus was sur- prised to receive a visit from Swipes. “What brings you here?” he asked in sur- prise, as the youth entered his room. “A very painful errand, I regret to say,” replied Swipes, with a serious face. “Why, what’s the matter?” “T am the-bearer of a challenge.” “A challenge! from whom?” “From Mr, Noodleheimer. He feels ag- ” ie ie | mi | 4 + oa ite Ta i a Sa = 3 Seer PS 142 grieved about the incidents of to-day, and thinks he would feel better if he had your gore. He has often heard you tell about the numerous duels you have fought in your younger days, and he feels sure that you will eagerly grasp this opportunity to make # corpse of him.” The professor looked happy, as he replied: “T ‘did not think the old man had cour- age to fight a duel.” g . “Oh, you don’t know Mr. Noodleheimer, if you think him lacking in courage. Well, do you accept?” “T do,” replied the professor, after a few moments hesitation. “Good! I suppose your weapons will be pistols?” “ Yes.” “Good again. There is a very quiet lace up by High Bridge that would be ust the spot for such an affair. Iam to e Mr. Noodleheimer’s second, and I would suggest that you select Mr. Hemorrhage as yours.” “Hemorrhage will do as well as any one else, I suppose,” said the professor. “Certainly he will. And now I guess I’ll go round and see him and arrange things so that you and Mr. Noodleheimer can slay each other in a_ nice, quiet, effec- tual, gentlemanly way.” With these cheerful words the youth vanished. To make a long story short, the two.men met at about noon the next day at the spot suggested by Swipes. ‘The rofessor was amazed at Noodle- heimer’s calm, unconcerned manner. He had not given him credit for possessing as much bravery as he apparently manifested. The fact is that the old German knew that neither of the pistols were loaded, so he was quite easy in his mind. Not so the professor, however. He was very, very nervous, though he tried his best to conceal the fact. The men took their positions, Swipes gave the word to fire, and two simul- taneous shots awoke the echoes. The next moment, to Professor Gallus’ horror, Mr. Noodleheimer fell heavily to the ground, where he remained motion- less. “Good Heavens!” shrieked Swipes, bend- ing over him, “he is dead! Make your escape, professor, ere it is too late!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) ——___—~>—-e-e—____- SOMETHING IN THE BED. ene BY MAX ADELER,. anything but y/ UDGE PITMAN has a habit of slip- x? f ping his watch under his pillow when he goes to bed. The other night somehow it slipped down, and, as the judge was restless, it gradu- ally worked its way downward toward the foot of the bed. After a bit while he was lying awake, his foot touched it, and as it felt very cold, he was oe and scared, and, jumping from bed, he said: “Be gracious, Maria! there’s a toad or a snake or something under the covers. I touched it with my foot.” Mrs. Pitman gave a loud scream, and was out on the floor in an instant. “Now, don’t go to hollering andwaking a, the neighbors,” said the judge, fou go and get me the broom or some- thing, end we'll fix this thing mighty quick. Mrs. Pitman got the broom and gave it to the judge, with the remark, that she felt as if snakes were creeping all up and down. her legs and back. “Oh, nonsense, Maria! Now you turn down the covers slowly, while I hold the broom and pres it. Put a bucket of water alongside the bed, too, so’s we can shove it in and drown it.” Mrs. Pitman fixed the bucket, and gently removed the covers. The judge held the broom uplifted, and as soon as the black ribbon of the watch was revealed, he cracked away three or four times with his broom. Then he pushed the thing off into; the bucket. Then they took the bucket to the light to investigate the matter. When er saw what it was, he said: “I might’ve known that! Just like you women, to go screeching and making a fuss about nothing! Who’s going to pay me for that watch? It's utterly ruined.” a pte oe = fuss, not me,” Ss. Ei ou needn’ } “ blame off on me.” Bees Put the “Oh, hush up, and’go to bed! I’m tired of peering. your blather. ’Pears to me ou can’t rg your tongue still a minute. lame me if I ain’t going to get a divorce — — ge i 4 n e judge turned in, and . at Maria until he fell asleep. Srenyed Se akin ae “EDWARD, What do I hear—that you have dis- obeyed your grandmo her, who told you just now not to jump down these steps ?” “Grandma didn’t tellus not to, papa; she only came to the door and said: “I wouldn’r jump down those steps. boys; and I shouldn’t think she would—an old lady like her.” GrooD WITH THE STREAM. wate BY WILLIAM RAWCLIFFE, — A leaf fell into a rippling brook At the close of an autumn day ; And the current dritted it here and there AS it sped.on its downward way. Now swiftly, now slowly, it floated along On the brooklet’s way ward Streain ; Now in the shadow, and now in the light Of the sun’s last Slantins beam, Onward and onward, ever Tossing to and fro, On to the broad, deep river That rolis through the valley below ; On past the crowded city And the quiet, inarshy lea, Then lost to sight forever Tn the mighty, boundless sea. And thus it is with each human soul ; Like leaflets all we seem On childhood’s merry rippling brook, On manhood’s deeper streain. For each and all there are shadow and sun, For each there are calm and strife, From day to day, from year to year, On the changeful current of life. Onward and onward, ever Tossing to and fro, On to the broad, deep river That rolls through the valley below ; Checkered and changeful ever Must our earthly journey be, Till at last we sink to slumber In eternity’s boundless sea. a a i HIS OWN MASTER; ? The Fortunes and Hisfortiues of Fred Wilder PRS era Conspicuous. Our claim was turn- picid ub very well, and much of the ground 0S Pitched Was taken up; but no tents were ; Var oy hearer than two or three hundred oket Stable ours. A police camp had been if®) ang pshed on the gully, and a sergeant of Plain WO constables, with a detective in af” |} tr, Clothes, stationed there; but the 9) the 2°S and murders still continued, and nid SelyeetPetrators managed to keep them- and! law ae Safely hidden from the grasp of the d On the swifter vengeance of the miners. oy ef, o0ld fields on ae eee es ape g Very},,2 reckless, good-fellowship with nts traig ody had been one of the principal jn) Pach of the miners; but on Candle-light, 6%) Man “80 seemed to distrust every other tle ! Slthe, 2 not wholly without reason, a ™4 uch’ =" be sure, there was perhaps as | Wore brant of fiery whisky and still Se ndy with each other, when the Wut i pet at the stores on Sunday; snd | : Though two men met in the woods, even a” =Ang they were neighbors as to claims oo oT Keg fats, they would watch each other as gles Seag’ °S two strange dogs would do, in- 4 Amok, f Sitting down for a chat and a hang istols and knives were always Wee) Was, 7 Gay and night; and if any miner yp kit delatey walucky as to lose his way and be qret is his lif till after dark, it was as much as be he Was worth to approach a tent, if the 2 ted ge in ho without first calling out to ore é ates, etting them know his circum- oa tay, + and getting their permission to pad ap Bully ane Most of the parties on the : wey h Od a regular watch at night, if aims 4 more than two men in their May ana’: did so, one man sleeping all Weox z keeping awake all night for a a le Nd then another taking his place, » aim whee him take his turn in the ¥ Work’ agecte only two of -us were now at © petatio, atime, owing to this plan of 2s peat vy te Red Joe took his turn at the ge : Ugh I ch with Jake and myself; and lied” ‘ Abony V2 that I felt somewhat dubi- ee 8 yy ag oing to sleep the first night tapken } MN guard, and that my rest was gj ‘ly Ga. very unpleasant dreams, he cer- os° pct harmed us; and our suspi tke trust efor I do not know but that 7 Mdeq Sted him fully from the first) soon : Bat Mwitely away. ay depot withstanding the police camp, Es arlve and the precautions of the of tinence did not cease; and hun- : € diggers left good claims and Other fields, where they would at they carried their lives in the time. That there was h in. desperate villains: at work was le pont they bid fair to drive the h t pulation from the gully, if they eg, “etected soon. owe ay morning, while on my way ® ba i Ip with a dozen others, one of the Y happened to look over the ath, a Ne, : © sandstone rocks into the gorge ep. 24 instantly exclaimed: A : S another one, boys.” with web, there was another one—a 8 heay. the back of his head indented ® got blow from some blunt weapon. him up, and found that he was an old “hatter” (a miner who works alone, having no mates), who had left the gully several days before for Greymouth, As he could not have received the injuries which we found on his body by a fall from the cliff, and no money or gold about. him, we were satisfied that he had been cruelly murdered ; an opinion which the detective, Mr. Coombs, coincided in. A day or two afterward, a man-of-war’s man named Billy Matthews was found drowned in a water-hole close by his tent, which was within twenty yards of two others. He was naked when found, and his clothes were lying on the blankets in his tent, as if he had undressed himself and got into the hole for a bath. But the detective was not long in deciding that poor Billy had been strangled and then thrown into the water, and that this had been done not long before his lifeless body was discovered. o gold was to be found in his tent, although he and his mates had had a division only the day before, and a had received thirty ounces of dust for his share. But the boldest rascality of all, and the act which spread the most consternation among the miners in the gully, was the murder of one John Hurley, a powerful young French Canadian. Hurley was one of a gang of five; and on the night of his death was the watchman for the party. No noise or disturbance took place to arouse any of those in the tent; but one of the sleepers awaking at daylight, and see- ing Hurley sitting in the entrance of the tent, leaning against the upright which supported the ridgepole, spoke to him. Receiving no answer, he got up, and soon aroused his mates with the startling intel- ligence that their comrade was dead. He had evidently been struck from behind by some kind of a heavy slung-shot, while sit- ting in the position in which he was found; he had probably been killed by the blow. But to make sure work, the assassins had out a narrow strap, such as sailors use for yelts, around his neck, and hauled it tight, securing the body in its erect pos- ture by Enotting the ends of the strap around the tent standard. His revolver and a knife were in his belt, but his chamois leather bag was gone, and with it four good pounds of gold. These repeated villanies, and the com- plete secrecy with which they were perpe- trated, caused many men—and men who were not at all cowards, either—to leave the gully. When it first became certain that lawless and violent déeds were being committed around us, I was not fright- ened (I say this with no intention of boasting), but on the contrary, felt more of a spirit of resistance and determination to keep on my way in spite of all the scoundrels in creation, than of fear; but the constant strain of keeping up a con- tinual—and it seemed useless—watch, was beginning to tell on my nerves, and I found myself starting and clutching my weapons at the chirp of a bird or the editting of a leaf. Jake, too, and even Red Joe began to show signs of wear; and after the death of John Hurley, I made up my mind to leave the accursed gully at once. Jack the Bullocker, as Hurley was called by the miners, was a giant in strength, active almost as a cat, bold as a lion, skilled in the use of weapons, and a splendid woodsman; he was understood to have been in the service of some fur-trad- ing company in America, and his sight and hearing were certainly most acute. And when such aman, wide awake as he certainly would have been when guarding the lives of his comrades and his own, was assassinated so quietly that his mates were not disturbed, other men might well feel that their lives were far from safe, with- out incurring the imputation of cow- ardice. As I Tit my pipe on our return to our tent after visiting Hurley’s remains on the morning following his murder, I remarked to Jake: “T’m sick of this, mate. I’m going down to the Greenstone or to Hokitika. I didn’t come here to get my throat cut, and I’d sooner be in the station again, if I had to work for my tucker, than stand this any longer. I give up my share in the claim to you, if you want to stop; but you’d better come down with me, and leave this infernal place altogether. What do you say?” “Well, Tom,” replied Jake, “I don’t like it any better than you do; I’m a year older for every month I spend on Candle- light. But I hate to leave our ground now, just when it’s turning out so well; I think we’re on a lead o’ gold, and shall strike something heavy before long. I'll tell you what I'll do. If you'll stop till we get this piece of ground worked out, I’ll go with you wherever you like; I want to get out o’ this myself. What say? *twon’t take us more’n two weeks to do it.” “What do you think?” I asked of Red Joe, who sat on a log at the door of the tent, smoking. “T don’no what to say about it,” replied Joe; “if you chaps say go, go ’tis; I’ve got my own sPueons "bout. things that’s goin’ on ’round here, an’ I don’t like it—I don't like it. If you says go, go tis; if you stops, I don’t go, that’s all,’ “You’d better stop and help work out the claim,” said Jake; “this work that’s been going on can’t last forever; and it’s all night-work, too. So we look out well nights, I don’t see as we need to care much for anybody, You’d better stop till we’re worked out.” “Well,” said I, “I’ll stop for a spell longer, at any rate; but when Jack the Bullocker was knocked over on his watch, and noone knew of it, I don’t think we should stand much of a show, if the ones that killed him should happen to find out that our ground is turning out well.” “But they won’t find it out,” said Red Joe; “we've kept it dark—good job, too; and we’d better keep our tongues still till we’re well clear of Candle-light; every one o’ them fellers that’s been done for had been blowin’ about their claims, one time or another.” Though ill at ease, I agreed to remain in the gully; and we went to work in the claim as usual. Several days passed after Hurley’s death, and nothing further—not even a robbery—was epee: We began to breathe more freely. One day when Red Joe and I had been at work in the claim (Jake having the night watch that week), Joe had started ahead of me for the tent, to hang up the billy and make the fire, to get dinner; and as I clambered up a bank to reach the level on which our tent was pitched, I suddenly found myself face to face with a man who was sitting on a fallen tree, close by our footpath. I was startled, but was not conscious that I had drawn my revolver until the stranger re- marked, very quietly: “Put that big ugly-looking thing away, mate;” and then added, curiously, “that’s a Colt, ain’t it?” “Yes,” said I, “and a good one, too; don’t miss fire.” “All right—I wouldn’t carry a pistol that did,” said the stranger, who was a small and decidedly “green” looking man; “don’t you trust niiybods, not even your mates. Look out for yourself—I tell you not to trust any man, mate or no mate. I know what I’m saying—you’ll know it, too, some day. I mean it. Don’t trust to any man but yourself.” “Who are you? what do you mean?” I asked; “one of my mates has been with me for years; and Red Joe seems a good fellow enough. If you know anything against either of ’em, why don't you out with it? Whoare you, anyway?” “Never you mind who I am,” said greeny; “all you’ve got todo is to keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, keep that young hoss o’ yours handy all the time, and don’t trust your mates nor any- body else, that’s all.” And turning away, he was out of sight in a moment, among the thick underbrush. I went to my dinner in no enviable frame of mind. I had at once suspected what was really the case, that the little green-looking man was the keen detective who had been sent up from the head office at Hokitika to ferret out the wretches who were ruining the most promising gold- field on the West Coast. And I did not doubt but what he had some good reason for the warning he had given me; yet what could it mean? Jake, I felt sure, was true and honest; yet still I could not bring myself to tell him of my interview with the detective. If he should be one of the assassins—but I would not credit it. But Red Joe—he was an old dog, and no doubt the detective had been watching him; he had probably recognized him; a he had got on the trail of some of is crimes, and had warned me in conse- quence. Yet Joe had always seemed a ‘ood ce Nady mate; and if the indignation 1e exhibited at the many murders was all assumed, he was a good actor. I was not more troubled than puzzled. However, I took the stranger’s advice, and kept a keen-lookout for any sign of treachery on the part of Red Joe (for I still trusted Jake, notwithstanding the warning, though I did not disclose my suspicions of Joe to him), and kept the butt of my pis- tol or the hilt of my knife in my hand, the larger part of the time. If I had felt uneasy before my talk with the detective, I was wholly miserable now. I had trusted much, previously, to Charcoal; I knew that he was true yet, but my confidence in him as a protector was gone. While I had not doubted the honesty of my mates, the courage and strength of the faithful brute, and his sagacity, went far to reassure me; for no stranger could approach our tent without being saluted with his warning growl, and no would-be criminal would have cared to face the dog, as the sound of a conflict with him would have aroused us. But if the danger was in my own tent, Charcoal could not guard me from it; it would be as easy for one or both of my mates to put Charcoal out of the way, as to finish me afterward. I had not even the moral support of diseussing affairs with my mates—I did not know whom to trust. I determined to take the first op- portunity to leave the gully, and get rid of the terrors that were fast becoming a chronic nightmare to me. I could have left Candle-light at any time, had I been willing to go alone, or to take any chance digger for a companion; but I did not feel like doing either. Sev- eral men who had started for Greymouth (the nearest seaboard town) singly, had never reached there; and if a man was missing for a few days, he was at once placed on the list of those who had been |foully dealt with. And as to picking up a chance traveling mate, it was not to be thought of; for I might unwittingly pick up one of the very men I was anxious to avoid—the villains who had hitherto car- ried on such a course of successful crime. But I did not have to wait many days. On_ the Sunday following my talk with the detective, I took my turn to go to the township for provisions; and seeing a party of miners that I knew, in the store where I traded, I entered into conversa- tion with them. There were five men in the party; and in the course of our talk I learned that they had worked out their claim, and were going to leave the gully next day, in company with eight or ten others. Here was my chance. I at once proposed to join the party, and was ac- cepted; there was no fear of a single man, nor of any number of men, for that mat- ter, when a large party were together; for all the lawless deeds which had been com- mitted had been done under cover of the night, and on single persons, I returned to the tent, and busied myself as usual, fully determined to leave with the next day's light. (TO BE CONTINUED.) i A Cure for Cowardice. Tr T is pleasant and ee to read of ‘| war and warlike deeds, but the young patrons of Goop NEws need not be told that it is generally far pleasanter to contemplate heroic exploits from a safe distance, than to take part in them before the cannon’s mouth. esides, some little experience is required by most men before they are able to manfully face showers of shot and shell. The appended incident, narrated by an old soldier, will illustrate our meaning: Just before the battle of Antietam five recruits came down for my company. One of the batch was named Danforth, a farmer’s son, fresh from the corn-fields, and as we took up the line of march to head Lee off and bring him to bay, Dan- forth said to me: : ae here, sergeant, I’ve made a mis- ake.” Ss ” w. “IT hain’t got nosand. I allus thought I had, but when I come down here and see what war is, I find I hain’t got the spunk of arabbit. We're going to have a fight yurty soon, and I know what'll happen. shall bolt as sure as shooting.” “Then you'll be called a coward, and disgraced forever,” “That’s so, and I don’t want it. I want you to do me a great favor.” “Well?” “Wall, if I kin git mad I’ll be all right, and forgit my shaking. Keep your eye on me, and as soon as we git within five miles of the enemy kick me good and stout.” After some further talk I promised him. We were in Hooker’s corps, and as we moved in against Jackson, Danforth obliqued alongside, and said: “Sergeant, kick me or I shall bolt. I haven’t got sand enough to see a chicken die.” We were moving through the timber, and I stepped behind him and “lifted” him twice as hard as I could kick. He shot aside, and next time I saw him we were at a fence on the edge of a corn-field. The fire was hot and men were falling thick. I had just fired from a rest on the top rail when Danforth came up, faced the other way, and said: “More kicks, sergeant! I know I’ve dropped two of ’em, but my sand is going!” I Kicked him again with a good deal of vigor, and just then we got the order to advance, and he was the first man over the fence. Half an hour later we were driven back, considerably disorganized, and as I reached the fence I came across Danforth again. He had a confederate cap- tain by the collar, and was carrying the officer’s sword in his hand. As he saw me, he called out: “Sand is all right, sergeant. No more kicks. As soon as J take this chap to the rear I’m going back and collar old Stone- wall himself or die trying.” ————_~-o-o——__—_ THE Sanitary News says that the universal habit among women of biting off the thread with which they are sewing is prolific of sore throat and blood-poisoning. Ir the ocean were incompressible the level of the surface would be 116 feet higher than it is at present, and about 2.000,000 square miles of land would be submerged. VICTOR MEYER in a recent address declares that we may reas'‘nably hope that chemistry will teach us to make the fibre of wood a source of human food. Two French chemists have succeeded in mak- ing crystals, which have all the appearance of fine emeralds, 144 GooDpD NEWS. Puzzle Corner. Original contributions solicited. Address, ‘‘Puzzle itor” Goop News, New York City, P. O. Box 2734.) conyers No, 1—DIamMuND PuzzLE— 1 A consonant. 2 A Latin conjunction. 3 Toembarrass. 4 A service. 5 Occidental. 6 Sneaking. 7 Threefold. 8 To bend. 9 A consonant. No, 2—WorpD SQuaRE— My first is a place of trade. My second is an intermittent fever. My third is to destroy. My tourth isa portable lodge. W.H. L, No. 3—BEHEADINGS— Behead a grain and leave to grow hot, again and leave to consume, again and leave a preposition. CLEO, No. 4—CHarapE— My first is warm and sunny. My second is a joyous song. My third is the name of the girl who sang it. And my whole is the pleasant compart- ment of the American Republic in which she lived. MALONE, N. Y. No, 5—NUMERICAL ENIGMA— The answer contains 31 letters, and is advica we should heed at all times. The 4, 10, 1, 20 is what we all want to hear. The 29, 2, 7, 21 is closed. The 28, 6, 15, 8, 17 is a wanderer. The 9, 27, 24, 3 is seldom found. The 5, 16, 19, 13 is a period of time. The 28, 18, 14, 12 often changes. The 22, 11, 23, 30 means hastened. The 25, 31 are alike. No. 6--PYRAMID PUZZLE— 1 In snow. 2 A river in Europe. 8 A city of Europe. 4 A sea of Europe. Centrals name a reptile, No. 7—HALF SQuUARE— 1 A villain. 2 Counsel. 3 A kind of tusk. 4 To fatigue, 5 Frosty. 6 Part of a fee, 7 A consonant, 8—WorD SQUARE— 1 A metal. 2 Traveled. 3 A perfume. 4 A conqueror. 9—Cross WorD ENIGMA— 1 Inright, not in wrong, 2 In short, not in long, 3 In piece, not in part. 4 In pace, notin start. 5 In oats, not in rye. 6 In laugh, not in cry. 7 In spoil, not in decay. Whole is a country far away, WEBB. No. 10—NvUMERICAL ENIGMA— This a is composed of 28 letters, and is an old proverb. The 12, 10,11, 19, 13, 14, 15 is a tutor. The 26, 22, 28, 5, 27 is a useful animal. The 25, 2, 23, 24, 3 is a ferocious animal. The 8, 6, 1, 24, 15, 2 Is. a boy’s name, The 4, 18, 19, 20isa landing. The 7, 17, 8, 23 is a banner, The 9, 2, 23 is a fruit. The 6, 16 is a preposition. No. 11—HippEen Brrps— 1 He exclaimed, « name for you. 2 Alfred, oh, do go West. 3 I say a fib Is a little falsehcod, 4 Annette, all is lost. ‘ 5 Men of Alborg, rouse ye, I say: : 6 What! This pew? It’s mine. 7 Old boy, Rock, no time here. NICK. y Gosh! awkward is no Jimmy, No. 12—REBus— TEREE CRACES. Answers to Puzzles in No. 6 Good News No. 1— Narr A Spain—Tlara—Green. CAMBRI CHA RK 1QT CHIMNEY TCHEZ OBATE ESAGE VID, P/O 1 Quebec. 2 Baldwin. 3 Long Island, 4 Lone Jack. 5 Newark, 6 Paris. 7 Havre. 8 Lyons. 1 Pale, pail. 2 Beat, Beet. 8 Not, Knot. 4 Kane. cane, Shakespeare. No. 9— Mastodon. No. 10— Post. Spot. Stop. ANSWER TO REBUS IN NO. 6, down stairs is like falling in love—a per- t exactly understand how the thing hap- Answers to Poazes in No, 7 Good News No, 1—Worp Square— — Falling son don HON ORA NATL OLL RAS No. 2— A lobster is red when boiled; but (read) red all the time. eee Tore No. 8— AnsweR—Aspirations beautifully considered de- serve encouragement from grandfathers. Key—a bedetghijkimno r xyz sftguhviy lambn chee No, 4— Clamp, palm, lamp, map, clam, 5 Missouri. No, No, 6—- Zone, one, ne, e. Wiss. Hrerenm>y WOR A> HON | > Zz Zpanrpwn No. 12— > No. 8— ian dit rland ea onl ope No. 9— Matapan. No. 10— 4g yaa CHE AQ N P| ro I 8 STA RA I BOT sk HAR 1 Reticule. 2 Elevator. 8 Elemental. ANSWER TO REBUS IN NO. 7. Act on the square, boys; be true, honest, and bright. ———_—_~—2-—__—___ ‘Short Stops. emcees i checemdihts THE man who does nothing is nothing. Ir the heart is pure the Life will be all right, No limit has been found for a telephone line. Wuar a man Is, depends upon what he loves. Corres is injurious to the health of some people. Tue best soldier is’ the one who obeys orders’ the best. ; Tax shortest cut to wealth is through the lane of contentment. Ir 1s fortunate for all of us that we cannot always have our own way. IF you haven’t anything but your troubles to talk about, don’t say much. Ir is well enough for charity to begin at home but it should not end there. _ Tue depth of a sea about six miles deep is re- duced 620 feet by compression. A SMALL boy went to see his grandmother. After looking eagerly round the handsomely fur- nished room where she sat, he exclaimed, in- quiringly ; “Oh, grandmamma, where is the miserable table papa says you keep ?” A youra was heard to remark to a jolly and fat ee as the circus pageant pained the city “Haven't I seen you before? Your face looks familiar.” “Is dot so?’ said Hans. ‘When you get so old as me your face will look familiar, too.” “Ys, this must be the ladies’ cabin,” said ' young lady to her friend as they halted at the door of the cabin of a Fulton ferry-boat and peered in- Tae in. c oyou think so?” doubtingly asked the “Why other. “Oh, because there are sO many men in it,” was the answer. “Do you think, mamma,” said a little one, “that Uncle Reuben is a good man ?” “Why, my child, he is the best of all my brothers, and an excellent man.” “And will he go to heaven ?” “T think so, my child. Why do you ask ?” “Oh, nothing much,” replied the child, waking Qur Mail Bag. [Questions on subjects of general interest only! dealt with in the ‘Mail Bag.” Medical or 1@ questions not answered. Good Nrws goes D two weeks in advance of date of publication, and th fore answers Cannot appear until two or three after we receive them. } — 2+ J. T. C,—Puzzles received and accepted. S. 7., (Stamford.)—We will publish the song you request. x Da Costa, (Cinn.)—Read answer to ‘Ed. M. cago)” in this issue, T. D. L., (N. Y.)\—JSuly 15, 1876 fell on a T We consider your handwriting fair. / M. T. D. A., (Trenton.)—Write to the Army Gazette, 84 Nassau St., New York City. J. J. K., (Ontario.)—We thank you for your opinion. We always like to hear from our re L. C. T., (Washington.)—We will send you book containing address of dealers etc., for 10 Mrs. M. S.—Please read answer to W. H. DL. issue. We have more than we can use f time to come. + Success, (Chicago.)—We have no object i | the name you suggest for your club, on trary we look upon it as honor. H. W. H., (Baltimore.)—Puzzles received cepted. We cannot publish more than one oF! at a time from any contributor. M. Ney & Co., (Buffalo.)—We have no kno of the book. .Your writing is rather s needs practicing with free hand. W. H. L., (N. Y¥.)—Original puzzles are published if acceptable. We do not pay 10 contribntions to the column you refer to. P. L. H., (Chicago.)—1. The sth day of 1878, fell on Saturday. 2 We cannot § thing wrong. 38. The contest is closed. Wil Yum, (Montpelier, Ohio.)—There is a as to which system of phonography is the we think ‘‘Pitman’s” is the most popular. Boys from 15 to 18 years of age wanted the zd Regiment Cadet Corps of Chicago, I dress, John Bander, 746 W. Lake St., Ch Jack, (Chicago.)—We like your spirit. which will not bend under failure should ually pluck a blossom from the gar success. John J., (Chicago.)\—We gave away prizes zles in Nos. 1, 2 and 8 only. There is room 10) provement in your writing. All you red practice, é H. 8S. A.—The business you inquire ab very desirable one; but to become profic the art of scene painting one must have talent for drawing. : Goop News Base-Ball Nine No. 1 solict lenges from any publishing house club ! York, Brooklyn, or Jersey City. Address News B. B. C., 31 Rose 8t., New York City: - Ed, M., (Chicago.)—The story you inquire | may appear in Goop News. We cannot definitely. We have in preparation a stor. same author, which will appear very So0Ds feel confident you will like it equally as well Magician.—To make fireproof paper y0! previously dip asheet of free in a strong tion of alum-water, and when dry repé process two or three times, when, as_ again dry, you may put it into the fl candle and it will not burn. H. Le R., (N. Y.)—The quickest way — how to swim would be to attend a 8¥ sehool. If you do not care about atte school, get some of your friends to show motions necessary, and practice in wats enough for buoyancy, but not over your Acquire confidence, but not recklessness. — G. G., (Newark.)—We thank you for Y' opinion, and as it will always be our aim Goop News instructive and interes aes you will always hold the same good feeling. our paper. e are sorry to disappoint your’ ing the awarding of our ‘‘Humane a We can only recognize deeds performed W: paper has been in existence. J J. H. M., (Rochester.)—We send you I oe copy of Goop News as requested. 4%, mutilation of the paper, we have placed on the outside margin of the first page. ™ been so busy securing the best stories for per, and shaping the different departme: we have not had time to gaze in the ¢ the matter you inquire about. f ‘ Jack Alton, Opmame ere beg to state Y are mistaken regarding the story nam need not be disappointed, as the oe the dime novel order, although the title. gest it. We would like to hear your opt story after you read it. It will always to make Goop NEws worthy a pi in ev hold, and therefore it will con only high literary order. A Photographie Amateur asks: be the length of time to expose a ph plate? and in what way can I test W camera Is light-tight? And what 1s ‘furniture’ ?”—1. The time of exposure of graphic plate depends upon the sensitt the film with which it is coated, 2. 4% can be tested by taking a picture, WB give immediate evidence of the existeRy. + crevice admitting the light. If nob the picture will be blurred, and the ima ground glass will not be clear and disiil’ printers’ language the name ‘furnibul® lied to pleces of wood or metal 0 eight than the type, and varying in | length. It is used to place around the “i to secure it in its place in the metal frat cally known as the ‘‘ chase.” At the on the right side of the ‘‘ form” there between it and the sides of the chase; } placed a beveled piece of furniture cally .” Wedge-like pleces of Ff ‘quoins,” are driven in this space uDM™ can be lifted up without dropping oul © %¢ When metal quoins—consist a LD “ We from a sort of reverie. “I was thinking what a homely angel he’d make; that’s all” | t . Raticdaee fitted her by me are used, the povelod ade-aate are