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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1891, by Street & Sinith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C,
Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post-Office, March 28, 1891,
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Street & SMITH, Publishers, FIVE CENTS PER COPY.
Vol. 2. 81 Rose Street. P, O. Box 2734, New York, arch 28, 1891. Subscription Price, $2.50 per Year. No. 47,
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[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]

CAPTAIN CAREY OF THE GALLANT SEVENTH ;

OR,

Eighting the Indians at Pine Ridge.
By Lieut. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY.

Author of ‘Cadet Carey,” “Lieutenant Carey's Luck,” ‘*Midshipman Merrill,” etc., etc.

 

 

 

 

 

 

re eee OF THE GALLANT 7TH” was commenced in No. 44. Back numbers can be obtained from all
ews Agents.]

CHAPTER XVI. gazed at the painted face of Kit Carey

 
    
  
 

SURROUNDED. with a look of considerable interest, for
~ well he knew that te officer had
OLONEL FORSYTHE, a man of} not thus disguised, and I may say disfig-

oo]

‘4@ indomitable pluck, and a skilled | ured himself, without some good reason.
4 officer, himself ready to do and To be thus in the costume and war-
’ dare anything for his country, ! paint of a Sioux chief meant a great deal

   

 

 

“WE MUST CATCH CHIEF RED HATCHET"

SSS

. =

 

SSS

SN

  
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
 

     
   

 

 

 

“GREAT HEAVENS!’ CRIED KIT CAREY, “IT IS THE NOBLE WALLACE! I AM TOO LATE TO SAVE, BUT NOT TO AVENGE be

some man, Carey, but, my word for it,
your best girl would ,deny the impeach-
ment if she saw you now,” Captain Wal-
| lace said, with a laugh.

for one of Kit Carey’s record, and that) Apaches, to be sent back to his old_com- , doubt but that he had already done good
Tecord was pretty well known in she Lineuiier and friend, Colonel Crandall, had service.
army by his brother officers and men | made the name of Kit Carey, first lieuten-| “I will make my report, Colonel .For-
alike, | ant of cavalry, a popular one in the army, | sythe, and then slip out of this rig, and ee. 4
His career as a border boy, then his | and it was respected by all who knew his try and appear as a pale-face,” said Kit} “If we could keep him in that make up
fadetsbip at West Point, followed by his | record. Carey, amused at the manner in which | there would he more chance for us homely
brilliant Indian campaigning in the Black | Now he had come to the front on spec- | the colonel regarded him. | fellows with the girls,” muttered a hand;
ills country, and again fighting the lial duty, and Colonel Forsythe had no | “You have been called a very hand-!some young lieutenant.

 

 
  
   
  
 
 
   
    
  
   
  
   
  
  
    
  
    
  
  
  
   
  
    
 
   
   
     
   
    
  
    
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
    
     
  
  
  
     
  
   
  
    
     
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
 

EES TRE ES TR REE
Hie Spent on ye

aoe

 

Coop

 

  

NEWS.

 

“T’ll hear your report, Lieutenant
Carey,” Colonel Forsythe said, and thus
commanded the officer-spy responded:

“I disguised myself, sir, to enter the
camp of Big Foot, feeling sure. that he
was playing a double game. My orders,
sir, were to take a squad of Indian cav-
alry and scout thoroughly about the Bad
Lands, and to report to the different
commanders the actions of the hostiles.”

“Yes, I received your communication
yesterday morning, and I feel that we
shall capture Big Foot’s band before
nightfall.”

“You will, sir; he is preparing to join
the hostiles, and you will have to sur-
round him to capture his braves, as they
will make a break, sir, if they discover
you are in pursuit of them”

“Major Whiteside, with the first bat-
talion, is already flanking them, and
will cut them off*before noon.”

“Then their capture is assured, sir.
They are out of provisions, and the war-
riors are desperate, while the squaws and
children are in an ugly mood. Red
Hatchet, who is also a medicine chief,
and has a band of able young’bucks in
the Bad Lands, reached Big Foot’s camp
last night, and he is using his whole
powers of oratory to make them fight.
Finding what they intended doing,
I slipped out of the camp and
came to report to you, sir.”

“You did well, Lieutenant Carey; but
you took terrible chances in going into
Big Foot’s camp, good as is your dis-
guise.”

“TI speak Sioux fairly well, sir, and
have practiced playing Indian before,”
was the modest response, followed by the

words:

“T would like to remain with you, sir,
until I knew Big Foot and his band were
in your hands, for then I can dismiss his
force from my mind when [ return to my

ost.

“T shall be glad of your assistance,
Carey, I assure you,” courteously replied
Colonel Forsythe, and after having lo-
cated the exact position of Big Foot,
from a few words with Kit Carey, he
turned to the commander of K troop, and
said:

“Captain Wallace, you will move on
again with the advance, and we must
keep near enough to be within call of
Major Whiteside, for you remember how
Big Foot escaped from Colonel Sumner,
and this time there must be no mistake.”

“No, sir, there shall not be,” said Cap-
tain Wallace, as he saluted and rode
again to the front, where his ae
pressed on toward Porcupine Creek,
where it was hoped Major Whiteside
would corral the cunning Indian chief,

Having taken off his Indian togs, and
bundled them up “for future reference,”
as he said, and gotten rid of his war-
paint, Kit Carey reported for duty, look-
ing very youthful without his long mus-
tache, which had been the envy of so
many of his brother officers.

After a halt for breakfast the command
moved on once more, and Lieutenant
Carey was sent on after Major Whiteside,
to give him the advantage of his knowl-
edge of the country.

As Colonel Forsythe had expected, the
first battalion headed Big Foot’s band off
during the day, and the Sioux finding
themselves corraled wisely submitted.

The soldiers encamped to the north of
the Indian tepees, while a line of pickets
were thrown out around the Sioux, and
as Colonel Forsythe was within easy
reach no one anticipated trouble to fol-

low.

When he found that Big Foot had hesi-
tated too long to carry out his plot, the
daring young chief, Red Hatchet, began
to plan deeper mischief still.

He went to the tepee of the medicine
chief, and the two talked long and ear-
nestly together through the night.

First one brave of prominence would be
sent for to come to the medicine tepee,
and he would hear what the two had to
say.

Then he would glide away in silence,
and in the darkness seek another war-
rior, mutter a few words, and he, too,
would seek the medicine tepee.

Thus warrior after warrior went
through the night to the tepee in which
Red Hatchet was planning a red deed of
treachery to be carried out upon the mor-
row.

“T don’t half like that going one by
one of warriors to the medicine tepee. If
Red Hatchet is. in there he is plotting
mischief, that is certain,” said Kit Carey
to Captain Wallace, who met. the lieu-
tenant coming from a closer inspection
of, the Indian camp than could be obtained
ont the position occupied by the sol-

iers,

 

CHAPTER XVII.
BROKEN PLEDGES,

HERE was an air of triumph among
the soldiers that night in the camp,

A feeling of satisfaction that the
famous Chief Big Foot; with his

 

band, had been ‘surrounded, and the
morning would find them “subinissive
captives.

Still there were those wearing the
shoulder straps of an officer who~ were
not. so.wholly satisfied that all would go
well on the morrow.

Old Indian fighters had their doubts
about the pledges, and an officer, whose
hair was turning gray, and who was a
bachelor by reason of a fair one’s broken
pledge to him in the long ago, said ina
cynical tone:

“IT would no sooner trust an Indian’s
pledge than I would awoman’s. They
may mean what they say at the time,
but let the opportunity offer and the
promise is cast to the winds.”

Among those who held.the same views
as the old bachelor officer, as to the In-
dians, but not to women, was Kit Carey.

He seemed to dread trouble, and he
kept a watch upon every movement of
the savages.

He wished to discover who was in the
tent with the medicine man of Big Foot’s
band, for he felt sure that it was Red
Hatchet.

But this fact he could not discover, and
he went to the tent, where he was. quar-
tered during his stay with the command,
determined.to be up- bright and early in
the morning, and see if Red Hatchet

‘could be found in.the camps.

The day dawned and found the soldiers
in camp, and position as well.

Colonel, Forsythe had arrived, and
noting the able placing of the troops by
Major Whiteside, made little changes in
the plans of that officer.

There was a silence resting upon the
Indian camp that seemed ominous.

None of the soldiers knew just what
their colone! intended to do, but all felt
certain that the Indians were to be dis-
armed.

Major Whiteside had distributed ra-
tions among them the day before, and re-
ceived full assurance from the chiefs
that no further resistance was intended,
that they were, in truth, glad to be cap-
tured.

But, then, to take an Indian’s weapons
is like making a demand upon his heart’s
blood.

Would they yield up their weapons
peacefully was the question all asked,
and no one answered satisfactorily.

Yes, there was one who felt that they
would not, that there would be trouble;
but this trouble the troops were able to
subdue, for the redskins were surrounded,
and, it seemed, almost at the merey of
the Boys in Blue.

When the sun rose a cordon of cavalry
began to form in three parts.of a square
before the Indian camp, while the Hotch-
kiss guns, Light Battery, under Captain
Allyn Capson, were ordered to an_ad-
pe nknanons position by Colonel For-
sythe.

Ai the open space before the tepees of
the redskins and the camps of. the sol-
diers, and near their line, the Indians
were moving about ina sullen and un-
easy manner, watching their foes with
angry glances.

Nearest to them stood an officer calmly
surveying the situation, and he was ac-
companied by two of the Indian police,
mounted, one of whom held the horse of
the lieutenant, who was Kit Carey.

He was watching the face of each In-
dian as he appeared, for he was on the
watch for Red Hatchet, whom he still
feared meant mischief of some kind.

Soon Colonel Forsythe left his quarters
and moved down toward the open space,
where he was joined by Major Whiteside,
and with both officers were their adju-
tants.

Then the Indians were called upon to
approach the soldiers’ tent, in which was
Big Foot, their chief, lying ill.

As they came up they were counted by
Lieutenant Nicholason, and then came
the demand that sunk deep into their
hearts :

“Chiefs, you and your warriors must
give up your weapons!”

It was Colonel Forsythe .who made the
demand, and the warriors started, gazed
at each other and huddled more closely
together, their faces becoming black with
fury and hatred.

- Then a chief spoke for all, and said:

“We have no weapons. The Great
Father has broken faith with us, for we
are poor, sick, and hungry, with no arms
to kill game for our squaws and chil-
dren.”

“Tt is not so, chief, for you are all thor-
oughly armed, and you have surrendered
to us, and you must give up your weap-
ons at once,” was the stern response of
Colonel Forsythe.

“We have no arms to give up. Let the
pale-face warriors take us as we are,”

“No! you are thoroughly armed, as I
well know. If you refuse to surrender
your weapons then search shall be made
for them. I shall say, no more, chief.”

And then out of the medicine lodge
came a crouching form. — .

Tt. was, a medicine chief, covered with
tohes, with body bent and lange in band,

As he came he chanted a wild war-song
of his people.

Instantly Kit Garey’s*eyes fell upon
him, heard his: words, and le walked
rapidly toward him.

But the medi¢ine chief, apparently an
old man, did not appear to notice him,
even when sternly came the words in the
Sioux tongue:

“Let the medicine chief beware! I
understand his. words to his braves!”

But the medicine chief sang on, and,
walking rapidly toward the colonel, Kit
Carey told him ‘vhat the medicine, chief
was saying, and that he-was urging the
warriors to refuse to yield their weapons,
if they died with them in their hands.

Quickly Colonel Forsythe gave an order
to Captain Wallace to. dismount his men
and form about the braves.

The soldiers were quickly dismounted,
and formed in open file between the war-
riors and their tepees.

Then details of soldiers were ordered to
search the tepees, and as they moved for-
ward to obey, under command of Captain
Wallace and Lieutenant Carey, the bent
form of the medicine chief straightened
up partially, and he began to make incan-
tations to the sun, and’ chant aloud a
war-song to the Indian messiah.

The effect upon the Indians was electri-
cal, for they stood like wild beasts at
bay; theirs squaws and children caught
up the weird chant of the medicine man,
who suddenly..stooped, grasped up two
handfuls of dirt, and threw them upon
the soldiers.

Then he threw off his robes, and, ap-
pearing in his full costume as a chief,
revealed that he was the ghost spirit,
marked with red Indian. characters.

At the same instant he drew from be-
neath his blanket a rifle and fired full at
Kit Carey, while from his lips came the
war-cry that ushered in the terrible trag-
edy that followed.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE BLOW FALLS,

   
  

0A S the medicine chief threw off his
ot robes, and. straightening up, rifle
Oy in hand, sought to find his victim,
7 Kit Carey. recognized who he was,

It was Red Hatchet, as he had half-
suspected, when the wild chant of the
medicine chief urged the bands to strike
at the soldiers, whose bullets in return
would take no effect upon them.if they
struck into brave hearts,

But his long stooping posture had un-
steadied the nerves of Red Hatchet, and
his bullet, though well aimed, simply cut
a button from over the heart of Kit
Carey.

That first shot was the signal that
brought a volley, for concealed beneath
their blankets the warriors had their
rifles and revolvers, and full upon the
surprised soldiers poured a terrible, death-
dealing volley.

Brave men fell dead and dying: ere they
could draw a weapon, while with one
terrific war-cry the Indians made a rush
for their tepees.

Then began a battle the like of which
was never seen before.

It was a battle of desperation upon the
one side, of indignation and revenge upon
the other.

The soldiers rallied quickly for the fight,
and began to move down upon the tepees,
for there were the gallant Wallace, Lieu-
tenant Carey, and the detail of soldiers
sent to search the camp.

Their presence there meant. death to
them unless rescue came quickly.

The squaws, maddened by the firing,
drew weapons they had hidden about
them, and fought like demons.

Half-grown boys and girls, enveloped
in blankets, and looking like braves,
dashed about upon their ponies, dealing
death wherever they could strike a blow.

It was a wild, weird scene, an Inferno
while it lasted.

Brought to bay among the tepees, Cap-
tain Wallace felt that he was to die, but
he intended to fall with his face to the
foe, as a brave soldier should.

An Indian warrior rushed upon him,
firing as he came.

Wounded, though he was, the brave
Wallace avenged himself then and there.

Two other braves bounded toward him,
and a sharp hand-to-hand fight followed.

‘They, too, fell dead; though the gallant
soldier staggered from the wounds he had
received, and seemed about to fall.

But no! once more he turned to meet
his foes, and two more confronted him,
one a chief with uplifted tomahawk.

The last two shots of the captain’s re-
volver dropped one Indian dead and
wounded the other,

But that other came-on, eRe his
four comrades who lay dead at the brave
captain’s feet, and now it was sword
against tomahawk.

To the hilt in the heart of the Indian
chief sank’ the sword of Captain Wallace,
just as the tomahawk, though held in a

 

c

As Captain Wallace sank among his
foes, fitting monument to show how he
died, Kit Carey dashed up, sword in one
hand, revolver in the other.

“Great God! it is the noble Wallace! I
am too late to save, but not to avenge.
A noble death for a soldier to die, my
gallant comrade,” and the speaker glanced
at the foes lying around the dead captain.

As he finished speaking he placed a
vee to his lips, and gave two sharp
calls,

“Now. to find Red Hatchet, for this is
his work. Hark! how those Hotchkiss
guns roar. Captain Capson is doing his
duty well.”

The fig: ‘ was now surging along the
ravine, the Hotchkiss gun pouring its
deadly fire upon thesflying redskins, while
the scene of the battle was sickening to
behold.

In answer to the two calls, up dashed
two Indians who had come with Kit
Carey, one leading his horse.

“Ah! there is the colonel, soI shall re-
ahs my intention of following Red

atchet,” and, throwing himself into his;
saddle, Kit Carey rode up to Colonel
Forsythe, who was doing all in his power
to check the firing, now the Indians were
in full flight.

A few words of explanation, and Kit
Carey dashed away like the wind, fol-
lowed by his two Indian guards,

“We must catch Chief Red Hatchet,”
he explained, and so on they swept, leav=
ing the ravine and riding so as to head
off the chief whom the two police had
seen take to flight. alone, after he had
started the deadly combat.

Taking the direction they had seen him
disappear in, Kit Carey soon found his
trail, and followed it with the horses on
arun; and leaving Wounded Knee Creek
and its red tragedy rapidly behind him.

But Red Hatchet was splendidly
mounted, his horse was fresh, and the
cunning chief. well knew that his own
safety lay in reaching the Bad Lands,
and giving to the Sioux there his story of
the treachery of the soldiers.

He had planned well-not..to. be looked
upon as a deserter from the field, by the
few warriors, who, like himself, would
escape from the fatal field.

He had hoped, by a_ perfect surprise, to
massacre so many soldiers in the first few
volleys that the others would be driven
to flight.

Once they stampeded, their camps and
weapons would fall into the hands of the
Indians, and many of their horses, too,
and a quick retreat could be made to the
Bad Lands, where the story of the battle
would inspire at once courage in the
heart cf the faintest hearted brave to re-
sist their foes, the pale-faces.

With this in view to start the attack
and reap its fruits of success, Re
Hatchet during the night had instructed
the young warriors in the duty each was
to perform.

A few were to seize the horses of the
cavalry men, others were to kill the offi-:
cers in their first volley, and more were
to make a rush for the soldiers’ tents,
while the reserve of women and children
were to rush up from among the tepees
and thus complete the panic that had
been started.

But Red Hatchet had smarted under
the hesitation of the braves; they did not
act promptly, and he saw victory slip-
ping from his grasp, when K trgop eu
the warriors off from their tepees, an
were sent to search the Indian camp for
arms.

This must not be, the Sioux must be
forced to strike the blow, even if it came
late, and so the daring chief grasped his
hands full of dirt, threw it upon the sol-
diers, a sign he knew that. the braves
must understand, and, understanding;
act, and then raising his rifle he selecte
his victim and fired.

The result is known, and Red Hatebet
was rejoiced to see the first volley te}
upon the soldiers.

But then came the rebound, a boomer-
ang that recoiled upon himself, for the
gallant soldiers of the Seventh were not
to be driven like frightened buffalo before
the hunter, were not to be slaughtere
like sheep in a fold, for they rallied at
once, and far above the din came :
ringing words from the lips of Kit Care
“Men of the Seventh! remember the-
gallant Custer! Men of the Seventh,
avenge Custer!”

Ringing cheers answered this appeal to.

and the soldiers of the Sevent Bwer
down over the field, while, with a cry 9
fury and hatred, Red Hatchet sprang
upon an officer’s heise and fled from the
fatal field.

CHAPTER XIX,
A WARNING LETTER.

HE trail of the Red Hatchet was
followed at a pace which Lieuten-

him up with the Sioux chief, an

 

 

dying hand, fell with fatal force upon the
soldier's head,

then and there Captain Wallace and thé

the memory of the battle of the Big MOTD, —

7 ant Kit Carey hoped would bring” cf

 

a
4

    
     
   
  

  

 
 

 

™ two weeles ?

 

ae

Other. gallant. soldiers of the Seventh
would have been aveuged, or another one
would have fallen a victim to the cunning
and desperate fugitive,

But Red Hatchet had been bent upon

| @scaping, for the blow she -had struck

Inust be followed up quickly and cruelly.
So he rode ata pace that defied pursuit

} with the start he had of several miles.

Finding as he came toa ridge that gave
ima view along distance ahead, that
no dust was in sight to mark the’ pres-

7 &nce of the Sioux chief, Kit Carey deter-

Mined not to punish his own and his two
red comrades horses by pressing them so
hard, so he drew rein.

He had, in his short interview with
Colonel Forsythe, been told to notify the
Other commanders of the fight at Wounded
Knee, the treacherous act of the Indians.

So he rode at once for the nearest of his
Ted sentinels’ camps, and, arriving by
Night, at once, dispatched couriers with

astily penciled reports of the affair, dis-
Patching them to the various commanders
who were tightening the line around the
retreat of the hostiles.

There was another red courier sent also

1 a mission, but not to a military com-

Mander.

His destination was the Bernard ranch,
and he bore the following note, hastily
Written:

“TIN CAMP OF RED SKIN SCOUTS,
“Near Bad Lands, Dec. 29, 1890,
My Dear Mr. BERNARD:

“IT write but a few lines to say that after the sur-
Tender of Big Foot’s band, on Wounded Knee
Creek, yesterday, to Colonel Forsythe, the Indians

Toke faith, firedon the troops of the Seventh Cav-
airy, and a fierce fight followed. resulting in the
killing and wounding of many soldiers and red-
Skins. | regret to say, women and children being
4niong the latter.

“The instigator of the treacherous act was a
Sloux chief, who professes friendship for you and
Your family, and he escaped to the Bad Lands, in
Spite of my hot pursuit of him.

“That he will strike another blow quickly, I do
hot doubt, and I therefore beg of. you, by the love
You bear your family, to remove them without a
Moment’s delay, to a place of safety,

“I go from here to visit my line of scouts, and
Shall then come to my main force near your ranch,

ere | hope to find you and yours far away.

“Tn haste, and with remembrances to your wife
4nd daughter, believe me,

“Very sincerely yours,
‘KIT CAREY,
“Tieutenant of Cavalry, U. 8. Army.”

Having ordered the Indian soldier who

Ore this letter to deliver it with’ all dis-
Patch, and then go to the main camp of
he redskin scouts and await his coming,

lt Carey, accompanied by two of his
Men, set off on his rounds of visiting the
ther posts.

. tired though he was, and greatly need-
ing rest, he did not spare himself, but
eld on his way, determined to visit each

Post and reach his main.position, near

€ Bernard ranch, as soon as possible.
Ble felt. that his last appeal to Vance
ernard would move him to a realiza-

tion of the danger in remaining longer at

is home, and he hoped to find the place
€serted when he next went there. ~
That Sioux chief will not delay in
Striking his blow by capturing the set-
-ter’s pretty daughter, I feel certain, and
t will be criminal in Bernard if he
Should allow her to be taken through his
Stubbornness,” mused Kit Carey, as he
*ode along on his night trail to his posts.
If I could go into the Bad Lands J.
“ould discover just what is going on
h ere, and Iam half tempted to do it. ‘I
&ve my Indian make up with me, cos-
“Ume and all, and the temptation to
4gZain play the spy is great. I believe it
Would get me a captaincy if I-did it suc-

‘Sessfully and with good results; but it

Ould the more surely get me an obituary
Dice inthe papers if I was suspected.
ue ee what my two red soldiers think

l Bp?

hie called the two Indians alongside of
™m then, and said:

Kj Flying Wolf, what do you and Foe
ier think of my going into the camp

°f the hostiles?” ,
The two Indians were delighted with a
an who had the pluck to contemplate

‘Such a daring act, but they at once urged

8gainst it, as certain death would be the

_Tesult of discovery.

his the officer felt confident of, and
Yet he was’ so anxious to discover just
What the force in the Bad Lands was,
and the intentions of the hostiles, that
peainst all risks he determined to go, so

© said to the Indians:

We will seek a hiding-place yonder
among the rocks, and I will put on my
Costume as a Sioux chief.”

hey rode toward the place indicated,
f en suddenly there came a warning
on Flying Wolf, and the three barely

ad time to seek shelter when there

“ame in sight a long file of Indian horse-

€n, and they were moving toward the
Settlements.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—__——_-_—~>_0—_e—____——-

. How do you like the idea of three new stories
James Orts' and M. Quan,
“ni week; Epwarp 8S, Exazs, week after

 

NOTHING BUT A BOY.

ate hate se

By OLIVER OPTIC,

Author of ‘Lake Shore Series,” “Great Western
Series,” “Onward and Upward Series,” ‘‘Yacht
Club Series,” etc.

(“Noruine But a Boy” was commenced in No. 33.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

oe

CHAPTER XL,
BASSWOOD AND COMPANY,

Mv,

im OR readers know the story which
the good man related, and we need
not repeat it. He exhibited the

“4" deed given by Abijah: Basswood
to Phineas Binkerton, the mortgage-note,
and the discharge, having upon it the
attestation that it had been duly re-
corded.

The agent was as much surprised as de-
lighted to find that he had escaped all
further negotiations with such a man as
the squire. It looked like a very plain
case, for if the mortgage had been dis-
charged on the record its subsequent
foreclosure was of no effect.

“IT can give you sixteen thousand for
the Binkerton place with more satisfac-
tion than to your brother,” said Mr,
Mawden, when the examination was com-
pleted.

“You think it’s all straight, don’t
you?” asked the deacon.

“So far as I can see everything is regu-
lar; but I must.employ a lawyer to look
up the title,” adda the agent.

“I don’t want any more said about this
matter than is absolutely necessary,”
continued. the good man, very much wor-
ried by the relation of his wicked brother
to the case. “I tried to talk with ’Bijah
to-day about the subject, but he wouldn’t
hear a word. I wouldn’t) have said any-
thing to you now, Mr. Mawden, only I
didn’t want the company to give up the
mills here.”

“No blame can fall to you, deacon,
whatever happens. I have concluded to
employ Squire Maythorn to do our little
business, and, of course, I shall be obliged
to tell him, all. about it. But he shall
keep the business of the company to
himself.”

There was no other way to do the busi-
ness, and the deacon assented. Within
another hour Squire Maythorn listened
with amazement to the agent’s narrative
of Squire. Basswood’s rascality. That
very afternoon he ‘started for Selma to
examine the records, which fully con-
firmed the deacon’s statement. In a few
days the agent obtained the refusal of
all the other lands required for the
buildings of the mills and their dependen-
cies. But the engineers and architects
were not ready with their plans and
specifications till the first of August, so
that nothing was done during the month
of July, and so little was said that Squire
Basswood, who was still in rather feeble
health and staid at. home most. of the
time, had no knowledge of what had been
done. Mr. Mawden insisted that the
business of the company should be kept
entirely private, and no papers were
passed till the last of the month.

But. on the last day of July Deacon
Basswood had given deeds of the Binker-
ton place and the river pasture to the
company, and the purchase of the other
lands was completed. The good man de-
posited ten thousand dollars in the bank,
eight of which belonged to his ward, and
put among his papers the same amount in
certificates of stock, owned in the same
ratio by Ralph. The guardian had money
to lend, and it was immediatly invested
in mortgages at seven per cent., most of
which had been previously held by Squire
Basswood, whose creditors were glad to
transfer their indebtedness to a better
man. The first day of August was a
great day in the vicinity of Silver Lake,
when the actual work on the mills com-
menced.

Before ‘noon it was noised all over
Pondville that the Silver Lake Mill
Jompany had broken ground for the
dam on the river. Squire Maythorn
came down, and it happened that
he met the agent at Deacon  Bass-
wood’s house, where the latter had gone
to talk about matters. relating to the
navigation of the lake and Pond River.
They were seated under the big oak tree
in the*yard, where the good man as an
invalid had passed much of his time in
pleasant weather. The bricks of the mill
and other buildings were to be laid by
the thousand, the company furnishing all
the materials, A vast quantity of lime
had to be transported from. Riverport,
and Mr. Mawden was. making a trade
with Basswood & Co., as the firm was
now styled, to bring them up in the Rox-
ana. Before the bargain was completed,
Squire Basswood drove into the yard,
swelling with rage.

The hundred men at work on the re-
mains of the Binkerton place, clearing u
the ground so that the stone and eart

 

 

   
   
  
  
  
    
   
   
 
  
   
   
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
     
    
   
   
    
  
   
      
     
     
  
   
    
    
   
       
  
  
    
 
  
    
     
    
 
   
    
   
   
   
    
   
    
  
    
  
   
   
  
   
    
    
 
    
  
    
    
 
 
 
 
     
   
    
  
  
  
    
 
   
 
    
  
   
   
  
 
 
         

CoonD NEWS.

for the dam could be carted across it,
were in full sight. from the road. The
squire could not help seeing. them as he
drove down the street, and he felt that
an outrage upon him was in the act of
being perpetrated. It did not occur to
him that there had been any irregularity
in regard to the ownership of the prop-
erty. He had seen Captain Binkerton’s
house burned; he had seen its owner per-
ish in the raging flood; and he was _en-
tirely satisfied that no evidence existed
to invalidate his proceedings in the fore-
closure of the mortgage.

“What does all this mean?” demanded
the squire, furiously, as he stopped his
horse under the oak-tree.

“To what do you refer, Squire Bass-
wood?” asked Mr. Mawden, not at all
unwilling to act as spokesman.

“What are those men doin’ on the
Binkerton place?”

“Just now they are clearing up the
ground so that we can move the material
for the dam which the Silver Lake Mill
Company propose to build just above the
bridge,” replied the agent, with the most

rovoking deliberation. “We intend to

uild two, and, perhaps, three, large
mills on the land below the bridge, which
we purchased of your honored brother.
Then on the Meeker place we shall erect
four boarding-houses for our operatives.”

The squire ripped out a string of oaths
which curdled the blood of the good
deacon, who was trembling with emotion
in view of the explosion which was about
to take place.

“What business have you on the Bink-
erton place?” roared he. “I thought I
owned that.”

“JT thought you did, too,” answered Mr.
Mawden, promptly; “but it seems that
we were both mistaken.”

“Mistaken! what do you mean? I own
that place.”

“T beg your pardon, but, at present it
is owned by the Silver Lake Mill Com-

any.”

“TY forbid anything more bein’ done!”
protested the squire, violently. “I hain’t
sold the land, and you hain’t no right to
touch it.

“TIT am _ satisfied with the company’s
title to the place, Squire Basswood. Of
course, if I hadn’t been, I shouldn’t have
set the men at work.”

“Won't. you come into the_ house,
brother, and talk with me a little while!”
interposed the deacon, , who. wished to
make the blow as light as possible upon
his brother.

“No! I don’t want to tall with no-
body,” roared the squire. “You’ve gone
on to my land, and gone to work, with.
out saying a word to me.”

“That’s a mistake, Squire Basswood, I
have the title deed_to the land, given to
the Silver Lake Mill Company,” added
Mr. Mawden.

“Who give it to you?” demanded the
squire, evidently startled by the declara-
tion.

“T have looked over the matter, Squire
Basswood; and I assure you it’s all
right,” said Squire Maythorn. “The
less you say about it, the better it will be
for you in the end.”

“Nobody can give a title to my land,
but myself,” stormed the squire. “Bime-
by you’ll want to take my house_ away
from me. I ain’t no lawyer, but I want
to tell you, there’s law in the land.”

“So much the worse for you, squire,”
replied Mr. Mawden. ‘

“Who give you the title?” asked the
squire.

“Deacon Basswood, as the guardian of
Ralph Binkerton.”

“YT wanted to talk with you about this
matter a month ago, brother; but you
wouldn’t hear a word from me,” said the
guardian.

“Do you pretend that you hold the
Binkerton place for that boy, ’Lijah,”
demanded the sauire, furiously.

“T don’t hold it now, because I sold it
to the mill company.”

“The place didn’t belong to the boy!”

“T believe it did, brother; and the law-
yers say I am right,” mildly answered
the good man.

“T offered you sixteen thousand dollars
for the place, Squire Basswood; you_ run
the price up six thousand dollars above
what you offered to sell it for,” said Mr.
Mawden. “I came down’ here and bar-
gained for it, the same day, for the sum
I proposed to give you; you added six
thousand dollars to that boy’s fortune
that day.”

The squire raved and swore, for noth-
ing could vex him more than the knowl-
edge that he had unwittingly improved
the worldly estate of that despised boy.

“Don’t tell me!” howled the squire.
“The land was mine, I foreclosed the
mortgage, and you’ll find the whole out
on record.”

“Well, now, Squire Basswood, suppose
I should foreclose a mortgage on your
farm, and sell it at auction,” interposed
Squire Maythorn, in silky tones.

“You hain’t got no mortgage on my
place!”

“That was precisely your situation in

739

regard tothe Binkerton property. You
had no mortgage on it.”

“Yes. T haa.

“Not at all. It had been paid and dis-
charged when you commenced proceed-
ings,” added the lawyer.

The cold sweat stood on the wrinkled
brow of the squire; but when he thought
of the burning house and the terrible
flood which had done its work so well,
he struggled to retain his self-possession.

“You will find it on the records,”
gasped he,

“We find something else there, which
ante-dates your action,” replied the legal
gentleman.

“What is that?”

“Don’t you remember that, on the
morning of the flood, I was called into
Captain Binkerton’s house to acknowl-
edge the discharge of the mortgage you
heid on the place?”

“T know all that, but the freshet struck
the house afore the business was fin-
ished,” protested the squire, more mildly.
“The money, the discharge, and the note
was all burned up in the house, I s’pose.
I hadn’t no more’n got out of the house
when the water h’isted it up, and it got
afire.*

“¥ think your memory fails you, Squire
Basswood,” added the lawyer, shaking
his head. “If you think it over again,
you will recall the fact that, when you
left the house, the fifteen hundred and
forty-five dollars Captain Binkerton had
paid you were in your pocket.”

“’Tain’t so,” whined the squire, whose
pluck seemed to be deserting him. “The

when the flood struck the house. Cap-
tain Binkerton was gittin’ the money
ready when I left. It was on the table
with the papers, and, of course, it was
all burned up.”

“T think you had got along a little
further than that with the business,
Squire Basswood,” persisted the counsel
of the mill company. “I think I can
tell you just how it was. Captain Bink-
erton brought out a tin box, in which he
kept his money and valuable papers, after
Lleft you. You will recollect that box,
for the captain’s papers in it were wrap-
ped up in oil-cloth, just as he carried
them when he weut to sea,”

“JT didn’t see no box.” exclaimed the
squire, sinking rather heavily into the
deacon’s arm-chair under the oak-tree.

“Perhaps you didn't notice it, then,”
siiseesten the pliant lawyer. “At any
rate, Captain Binkerton took the money
from the tin box, counting out the fifteen
hundred and forty-five dollars he paid
you, and leaving fifty-five in the box.”

“How do you know he left fifty-five
dollars in the box, when the house and
everything in it was burned up and Cap-
tain Binkerton drowned ?” asked the
culprit.

“Strange things sometimes happen; but
we propose to state the facts, and not to
explain them at this stage of the proceed-
ings!” replied Squire Maythorn, blandly.
“By and by, if you desire it, we can in-
form you how the facts came into our
possession.”

“JT want to know now,” insisted the
squire, who objected to going any further
in the dark, lest there should be some
pitfall in his path.

“You must excuse ne, I was only try-
ing to stimulate your memory by a recital
of the facts, and with your permission I
will continue to doso. After Captain
Binkerton had paid you fifteen hundred
and forty-five dollars, leaving fifty-five in
the box, you gave_him the discharge and
the mortgage note.”

“T didn’t, neither,” protested the Squire.

“You shall have abundant opportunity
to deny and disprove all we allege when
the statement of facts is finished,” added
the lawyer.

“They ain’t jacts.”

“Then we will suppose them to be
facts,” continued Squire Maythorn, smil-
ing. “You gave the mortgage note and
the discharge to Captain. Binkerton, and
he placed both of these.important papers
in the box, carefully wrapping them up
with the other documents in the oil-
cloth. Don’t your memory serve you now
on this point?”

“No, it don’t,” muttered Squire Bass-
wood.

“Then you have an astonishingly bad
memory, and I am afraid your recent ill-
ness has somewhat affected the former
vigor of your mind.”

“Do you want to insult me?”

“By no means,” protested the lawyer,
with his blandest smile. “I think we
can establish the facts so far, but at this
point, if the case should ever come ‘to
trial, we should be obliged to call Miss
Tabitha Gadwing as a witness.”

“What are you talkin’ about a trial
for?” asked the squire, his face a shade
paler than before.

“Never mind that now; only if you
should choose to put an injunction on the
mill company, my client, of course, the
case would have to be tried,” continued
Squire Maythorn. “Miss Gadwing says
you told her Captain Binkerton started

 

note and the. discharge was on the table

  

 

 

soon pe

 

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

aerge se Fe

    
 

740

with you to escape from the house, but
at the back door he returned for some-
thing.”

“So he did. I'm goin’ tostick to every-
thing I said,” added Squire Basswood,

“Precisely so; and the something he re-
turned for was the tin box.”

The squire groaned audibly, for he was
beginning to obtaina clew to the pro-
ceedings.

“But Captain Binkerton was drowned,”
he added, trembling with emotion.

“Very true, but the tin box and its
contents were not of a like perishable
nature. In a word, Squire Basswood, the
tin box, like the bread cast upon the
waters, was found after many days.”

“Who found it?” demanded the culprit.

“Our young friend, Ralph Binkerton,
found it buried in the mud over by the
brick: yard,” replied the lawyer.

“You did, you young villain!” ex-
claimed Squire Basswood, fixing a savage
gaze upon the skipper of the Roxana.

“T did, you old villain,” replied Ralph.
“I think before long folks will begin to
see who the villain is; and they will find
he is older than I am.”

“Why didn’t you bring it to me, you
rascal?” foamed the squire. :

“TI wanted it myself. I’m nothing but
a boy, I know, but I thought the box be-
longed to me; and I kept it for this occa-
sion.

“ Tijah, did you know about that
box?” asked the squire, turning to his
brother.

“T did. Ralph was a good boy, and
brought it to me at once. [I had the dis-
charge put on record at once,” replied the
good man.

“You did! And you wanted to call me
‘dear brother,’ while you was fightin’
agin me all the time.”

“T wanted to tell you all about this
matter a month ago, but you wouldn’t
hear a word.”

“You ought to sent the discharge to
me, right off,” growled the squire.

“Certainly not, Squire Basswood,” in-
terposed the lawyer. “If he had sent it
to you, or given it to you, it would have
been compounding a felony, or something
of that kind, and he would have rendered
himself liable to the State prison with

u.
“The State prison!” gasped the culprit.
“Certainly ; the State prison. This was

@ conspiracy on your part to defraud the

orphan son of Captain Binkerton of his

entire inheritance; and the evidence is
strong enough to send you to the State
prison.”

Squire Basswood broke down com-

letely when the deacon brought the tin

Box from the house, and exhibited the

note and discharge.

“TI didn’t dare to say anthing to you,
brother, while I was so sick, but as soon
as you got back from the West, I tried
my best to talk with you about it, and
have you make it right before the place
was sold,” said Deacon Basswood, sadly.
“You told me to shut up, and wouldn’t
hear me. Then I had to sell the place be-
fore night, or I might have lost the sale
of it. As it is you have only made Ralph
six thousand dollars richer. I’m sorry
it has come out. But I have wept and
prayed for you, and besought the Lord to
open your eyes and soften your heart.”

“Am I to be sent to the State prison?”
moaned the squire.

“That is for Ralph to say,” added
Squire Maythorn.

Whe wretched man _ tottered to his
wagon, got in and drove off. He realized
that he was atthe mercy of that boy.
No one feared an injunction, and in the
afternoon the deacon visited his brother,
in order to assure him that Ralph was a
Christian, and would not prosecute him.
It was really terrible to the squire to
have these “coals of. fire” cast upon his
head by Ralph, but he was glad enough
to escape the suggested penalty of his
crime. He had little thought when he
had doubled the price of the Binkerton
place, that he was making money for
‘that boy.” All his evil purposes reacted
for good upon the subject of his enmity.

Ralph was as busy as a bee all the rest
of the season, and so was Deacon Bass-
wood, The Roxana made daily trips to
Riverport in the employ of the mill com-
pany during a part of the month of
August; but as soon as the foundation of
the great factories was completed, Ralph
began to deliver the bricks which the
deacon had contracted to supply at ten
dollars a thousand. New kilns were con-
tinually burned, and Basswood & Co. did
a large business. A hundred thousand
bricks were delivered in Hillburg in Oc-
tober at twelve dollars, so that Ralph’s
Shareof the business for the year amount-
ed to over three thousand dollars.

In September Squire Basswood received
another severe blow. His only son Tim
ran away from home, one day. Mr.
McPincher, who was employed to search
for him, found him in the city of New
York, with several hundred dollars in
his pocket, which the young reprobate
confessed was a part of the two thousand
he had stolen from his father,’ He was

GoonypD

seventeen years old, but he had been
gambling and dissipating with worthless
companions, who had plundered him of
most of the money. Only about four
hundred dollars of it were recovered, Tim
was always a bully,'as his father had
been before him, and after his return from
his excursion to New York, he was more
inclined to dissipate than to work on the
farm; in a word, he was a good-for-noth-
ing fellow.

The following year, when Ralph was
sixteen years old, the two mills were
completed and put in operation. A vast
change had been wrought in this part of
Pondville. Quite an extensive village
had sprung up in a year, and a consider-
able population, mostly employed in the
mills, was added to the place. Deacon
Basswood was one of the most respected
and influential citizens, and many people
declared that he was quite as “well off”
as his brother. To the intense astonish-
ment and disgust of the squire, he was

 

elected to the Legislature, not as a mem-
ber of the House, but as a Senator; and
hereafter. letters came addressed to the
“Hon. Elijah Basswood.”

Ralph devoted all his energies to busi-
ness. He went to the academy in the
winter, and studied hard; but he did
some other studying while the lake was
frozen up, andin the spring the bottom
timbers of a steamboat were laid down
at Riverport by the builder of the Rox-
ana. She was to be the property of Bass-
wood & Co., and by the first of June she
was launched, ready to make her first
trip. She was seventy-five feet long by
sixteen feet beam, and though her bot-
tom was flat, she had a sharp bow and a
rounded stern. She was supplied with a
large stern-wheel, as best suited for the
navigation of shallow waters,

Ralph ‘Binkerton was the captain of
this craft, and ashe was very much in-
terested in Miss Mercy Basswood, her
name was given to the steamer; a young
machinist was employed as engineer, an
three well-grown boys served as_ firemen
and deck-hands. It was a proud day for
the young commander when he landed a
cargo of cotton on the wharf of the mills
company atthe mouth of Silver River.
The next day, before the Mercy Bass-
wood was soiled by use, the young com-
mander invited his friends to make an
excursion in her up to Hillburg, and
Mercy sat in the pilot-house with him,
all the way up and back. She was a very
pretty and stylish girl, for a country
maiden, and she had always been very
fond of Ralph. Squire Basswood was.in-
vited to this excursion, but he would not
go.

Every day during the rest of the season,
Ralph took a load of bricks or other
goods down to Riverport, and a load of
cotton back; so that the boat made a very
handsome return to her owners. Sam
Baxter was promoted to the command of
the Roxana, and made frequent trips
with bricks to Riverport and Hillburg.
Though the price of this merchandise had
fallen, Basswood & Co, still made a
profitable business of it.

Our story is told, though we cannot re-
sist the temptation to pass through Pond-
ville once more before we take a final
leave of our hero and his fortunes. It is
eight years after we first introduced
Ralph Binkerton to our readers, and no
one who had known Pondville when the
flood occurred would know it now. Three
great mills are thundering away on the
ground, where the deacon’s cows were
pastured. Houses line the road for a
mile from the bridge; there are several
stores and a hotel, and the post-office
designation of the place is “Silver Lake
Village.”

The Hon. Elijah Basswood, who is re-
puted to be worth fifty thousand dollars,
has built a new and elegant mansion, on
the site of his former residence. He is
still doing a thriving business in bricks
and steamboating. Another stern- wheel
boat, larger than the Mercy Basswood,
and called the Lady of the Lake, has been
added to the fleet, Ralph is commander
and half-owner of the Lady, while Sam
Baxter has again been promoted to the
other steamer. Though the railroad has
been running for several years, the boats
make money carrying freight at a cheaper
rate.

The Hon. Elijah Basswood is still
deacon in the church, and it is believed
that he puts more money into the contri-
bution-box than any other ten men in the
congregation. Though he is rich, he is
still humble. Aunt Roxy, as she is still
called, for she is just as “good in sick-
ness” as.ever she was, goes to church in a
black silk dress, and has been, in a meas-
ure, refined in her speech and manners
by her daughter Mercy. who is the most
stylish lady in the town.

Next to the deacon’s house, on the bank
of the East Brook, is another elegant
residence, in which resides Captain Ralph
Binkerton. When he became of age he
was admitted as an equal partner to the
firm of Basswood & Co. His guardian
passed over to him about thirty thousand

 

dollars as his fortune, when he reached

 

2 \ know what to say.
ous and competent, ways will be opened
| to you, and means afforded by the use of
| which you will be enabled to achieve
| your ends.

| WwW. W. W., Providence, R. I., writes: “IT am
; Seventeen years of age, and would like to know as

NEw Ss.

his majority, besides his share of the
brick-yard and the steamers. Of course,
he does not live alone in that elegant
mansion, and it is hardly necessary to
add that Mrs. Binkerton was formerly
Miss Mercy Basswood. She is a leader in
Pondville society beloved by the people
generally, as well as by her fond husband.

Squire Abijah Basswood is still living,

but he is only the shadow of his former] $

self—a poor, miserable, despised old man;
for in spite of the deacon’s brotherly
efforts, his crime was made public. He
is what he always was, and_ the deacon’s
prosperity, and that of him who was
“nothing but a boy,” are the principal
sources of his misery.

Tim Basswood has cost his father a
great deal of money in one way and an-
other, especially in getting him out of
scrapes. The old man must soon pass
away, and the dissolute son will squander
his share of the paternal estate.

Ralph is a good man, as he was a good
boy, and no one believes that his wealth
istthe best part of him. He is faithful to
all the duties of life. He stands high in
the town, and is one of the pillars of the
church. He still respects and loves the
deacon, who continues to rejoice, with
exceeding geat joy, that he took in and
cared for Ralph, when he was “nothing
but a boy.”

(THE END.)

Yew stories by James Ot1s and M. Quap
next week.

T IALKS
OHO EOYs

BY ARTHUR SEWALL.

A. D. J., New York, writes: *‘I am a student at
the College of the City of New York, in the sub-
freshman Class, Classical course, and get along
favorably in my studies, except mathematics. In
school | ranked among the first in arithmetic, but
here in college I fail most miserably in geometry.
Itis not tor the want of study, I assure you. Can
you explain the mystery? I have taken a special
liking to Latin andjanatomy, and, therefore, my
friends and myself think I could succeed as a
physician. But in the City College, degrees are
conferred and no professions are taught. I would
like to go to Columbia or the University after a few
years, but it costs money. How can I pay my
Way ?”

It is not easy to understand why some
minds fail to comprehend mathematical
subjects, and in the case of geometry the
simplest way out of the difficulty is by
memorizing the problems. The present
writer had no difficulty with his mathe-
matics, until he began the applications
of algebra. These floored him, and he
was obliged to learn all the problems in
the book by heart, and when it came to
calculus he simply hired a fellow student
to pick out the proper parts of the book
necessary to pass the examination, which
he then committed to memory. Now, of
course, this is not the proper way to do,
but there was a lack of training some-
where, and it was necessary to goon,
Perhaps Mr. McGuckin, if he is still con-
nected with the mathematical depart-
ment of the City College, can advise you.

If you find that the mathematics are
going to seriously interfere with your
standing, we would advise you not to at-
tempt to continue your course after this
year, unless you are promoted, but to di-
rect your attention at once to medicine.
There are no free medical schools in this
city, and you will either have to obtain
the money somehow or study at some col-
lege out of the city. If you have a friend
willing to lend you money on security,
you can have your life insured, and give
him the policy as security. We know of
one instance where this was done.

It is impossible to advise you how to
make money. When it happens that
great businesses fail to obtain proper re-

 

 

|turns, and when large business houses
jare arranging their affairs and forming

trusts for mutual protection, because the
margin of profit is so small, we do not
If you are industri-

to what course of studies I would have to pursue
in order to become a dentist, where to pursue
them, the time it would require, and an estimate
of what it would cost.”

In Boston there is the Dental Depart-
ment of Harvard College and the Boston
Dental College, while in New York City
there is the new College of Dentistry.
Send to each one of these institutions for
their prospectus, and it will give you
their course of studies, At Harvard the
cost of instruction is $200 for the first

year, $150 for the second, and $50 for the

 

third; at the Boston Dental College the
tuition is $100 a year; and at the New
York College it is from $100 to $145. The
cheapest dental college in the com 18
the one connected with Vanderbilt Uni-
versity at Nashville, Tenn., there the
tuition fee is only $30, and the expenses
at the Dental Department of the Univer-
sity of Michigan, at Ann Arbor, are only
As you will have to leave home to
study, perhaps the best institution in the
long run would be the school at Ann
Arbor on account of the cheapness of boar
in that place. Also, at the University of
Michigan, you would have an OP
ity of studying medicine at the same
time, so that you could practice as 4
physician in the place where you settled,
if desirable. In Boston you will have to
take a three years’ course, while in New
York, Ann Arbor, and Nashville, only
two years are required to complete the
studies. At each of the five institutions
mentioned, the degree of D, D, S. is con
ferred upon graduates.

J. B., Salt Lake City, writes: “I am fourteen
years of age, and have talent as an author, but
have not a very good education. Would you please
advise me on the subject. Also tell me how 1 could
get a story copyrighted.”

In order to be a successful author the
very first essential is an education. Ul
less you are able to write grammatically
you certainly cannot sell your writings,
and one writes, not for pleasure, but for
the purpose of making a living. An eX
cellent way to become an author 8
through connection with a newspaper
See our remarks on that point in GooD
News for December 18, 1590. The best
thing to do, however, is to prepare your:
self for some one of the great Easter?
universities, suchas Yale, or Harvara;
there you will come under the influence
of men of the greatest literary ability,
and so receive a thorough training. T pe
is published in Boston a paper called
The Author, which is both va uable an
interesting, as it-gives points to the be
ginner on various details that come t®
most men only after experience. d

In order to effect a copyright, a printe
copy of the title (besides two copies to be
deposited after publication) of the article
or book must be sent by mail or other:
wise, prepaid, sadyeanen “Librarian 0
Congress, Washington, D. C.” This mus
be done before the publication of the
article or book. The legal fee for recore-
ing each copyright claim is fifty cents,
and for a copy of this record (or certit:
cate of copyright) an additional fee °
fifty cents is required, making one a0 an
in ‘case the certificate is wanted, wh fi.
will be sent by an early mail. Certl
cates covering more than one entry ae
not issued. ithin ten days after the
publication of each book, or other article,
two complete copies of the best editio?
must be sent to protect the copyrights
with the address “Librarian of Congres®
Washington, D. C.” Otherwise the copy”
right is void, and a penalty of $25 is 1»
curred. A

A. H., Darlington, Wis., writes: ‘What woule
you advise a youth of eighteen, who fs tall an k
slender build, but cannot stand much hard Wot
and thinks he can make a living without doing 7
He can play eight or nine musical instrumer er
and can play four at one time. He is pretty © sical
with them all, and would like to join a mus
company to travel.” d

A man who can’t stand hard work be
better commit suicide at once. Musi ve
a profession, that, above all others, ab
quires hard work. Without constane
practice you will never succeed, nor ra
a become anything of a musician ae

ess you study and learn new pieces © ie
tinually in order to extend your xr
tory. If you have any musical taleD
all, the first thing to do, if you a
earnest, is to stop the playing of 80 wo
instruments, and go to work to ae
yourself a competent performer on 8°

one of them. Get a good teacher, am
work hard and you may amount toe

thing. The playing on eight or 0 ly @
struments is not genius, it is simp yo
trick, and you will probably be more ®
cessful in securing a job in a dime ae
seum than with a musical compares
The companies that travel through , n
country want the services of a musicl@a™
not freaks. to
We would advise you to go done
the Chicago Conservatory of Music # ,
consult with the teachers there 45 an
what they can do with you. You how
write to them, and tell fhem just, jon
much you know, and so get their op!?
as to how much musical education 20
require tostart you. As a gradua the
such an institution, you can face lop
world as a musician, and if you deve
any special talent, they will po!D ho
the way for you to secure engagemen in
Theodore Thomas, the greatest lead F
this country; is about to form an ore the
tra in Chicago, and_he will be oD sicl-
lookout for young and promising MU the
ans. Under his guidance many °
coming musicians will be trained. ies:
©. W. D., 1400 Wabash Ave,, Chicago, Ill, Wilting
“1, What does 0, O. D. stand for. 2. Which *
best kind of skate for doing tricks and d

a ae"

mm 8 ~*~ TR ORO lle

 

= © 4AM 4 DD mT Uo

Pet et OO

 
 

 

GoonD

Nan

NEWS.

T&1

 

work with on ice and playing games. 3. Howis
rubber type made, and is there any book published
on rubber type making and how much would it
cost ?”

1, The letters C. O. D. stand for “Col-
lect on Delivery,” and usually appear on
such packages of goods as the owners
are unwilling to leave on approval, or
when they are unwilling to trust a per-
son. Some business houses do a strictly
cash business, and are unwilling to open
any accounts. Such firms invariably send
goods C. O. D.

2. We do not think that it makes any
very great difference as to what kind of
skate you use, the main thing is the abil-
ity in the individual. With the ordinary
so-called club skates, all sorts of tricks
can be performed, and, in fact, in years
gone by the old-fashioned wooden skates
were quite as effective in cutting figures
on the ice as anything we have seen in
recent times.

3. Rubber types are cast the same as
other types are cast. There has just been

ublished a little book, entitled “Rubber
and Stamps and the Manipulation of
India Rubber,” which we can send you
for $1.
——____~-¢--—_____

[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]
1 if
OR,

THE ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE.

By WALTER MORRIS,

Author of “Joe the Call-Boy,” “The Clown’s Pro-
tege,” “Kirk Sheldon’s Mine,” etc.

*

(“SLAVES OF THE. CrRcUS” was commenced in No. 45.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

—_.—_—

CHAPTER ¥.
MADEMOISELLE JEANETTE’S PLAN,

 

 

HILE Mademoiselle Jeanette
My and her husband were talking
in the menagerie tent, June was
with Mrs. Wilson preparing for
the first lesson in the ring.

When she came out clad in a sort skirt,
Soft shoes and a little cap, which was in-
tended to confine her hair rather than for
adornment, Neal met her in the horses’

ressing-room where ‘Mr. Wilson was
saddling a steed whose long time of ser-
Vice in the circus fitted him for the use of
amateur performers.

“Now, don’t be nervous,” Mrs. Wilson
Said. “Robert will see that there is no
Chance for an accident, and you are just
4s safe on the pad as you were last night
in the wagon.’

“Oh, I’m not at all frightened,” June
replied, quickly. “I rode in the saddle
this morning without tumbling off, and
I’m sure it won’t be hard to stay on that
broad board.”

“It is simple enough, my dear,” the
ring-master said, in a rane tone. “Put
your foot in my hand, and let me give
you a short lesson on mounting before we
0 into the ring.”

Five minutes sufficed to give June, at
least, an idea of gracefulness in gaining

er seat, and then the horse was led to

he main tent.

“Adapt yourself to the motion of the
animal,” Mr. Wilson said. “Don’t hold
On to the pad any more than is absolutely
Necessary, for there is no danger of fall-

ng. After you begin to feel at ease make
an attempt to rise to your knees.”

Ordinarily, the pupils in a circus are
taught by the aid of an arm or bar, sus-
pended from the center-pole, and at right
angles with it. On one end of this is a

lock through which runs a rope attached

0 a belt around the learner’s waist, The
Other end is held by an attendant who
Stands ready to guard against accidents,

By such precautions a fall from the
horse is impossible, for, once the equili-

rium is lost, the pupil can be hoisted in
the air to be dropped on the pad during

he next circuit of the animal. .
In June’s case, however, machinery
Would not be put into operation until the
hird or fourth lesson, for the ring-mas-
er proposed to make her familiar both
With the pad and the stride of the horse

efore there was any attempt to ride in a
Standing position.

With Mrs. Wilson and Neal near the
Center-pole, and Mr. Wilson following

1e slowly cantering horse, June felt not

e slightest timidity.

To her it was a jolly time rather than

e beginning of a difficult lesson, and
She entered into the spirit of it with as
Much zest as if a large reward was prom-
ised for proficiency.

After five minutes passed she had be-
Come accustomed to the rocking motion
Of the steed, and had, as if by instinct,
Rained the proper inclination of body so

 

*8sential to a circus rider.
xcitement and exercise tinged her
Cheeks with red, her eyes sparkled with

leasure, and she looked so thoroughly
NAD y that Mrs.. Wilson whispered to

eal:

“If Mademoiselle Jeanette could peep
in here now she would realize that in a
very few weeks the Royal Amphitheater
will have another female performer,” and
Neal nodded his head to show that he
was of the same opinion.

The pupil, the teacher, and the two
spectators were apparently the only occu-
pants of the main tent; but so engaged
were all that several might have entered
unobserved,

Once a face peered in through the flap
which led to the dressing-room, and then
immediately disappeared.

With each circuit of the ring June’s
confidence increased. At the end of
fifteen minutes she rose to her knees, and
in that position rode so naturally that
the ring-master rewarded her with many
words of approval.

“I’m almost certain I can stand up,”
she cried, and Mr. Wilson replied in a
sharp, warning tone:

“Don’t do it! Don’t try to go too fast!
Wait until the bar is slung before at-
tempting anything of that kind. Be-
sides, you haven’t been taught how to
rise to your feet yet, a matter which
must be thoroughly understood.”

It was as if June doubted this asser-
tion, for, without grdsping the bridle or
endeavoring in any way to steady herself,
she attempted to lift one foot, and at
that instant the fid-lights—by which is
meant the hanging lamps encircling the
center-pole—dropped with a crash.

The horse, staid and aged though he
was, became alarmed as the tangle of
rope and metal rebounded to the edge of

 

master was angry with her, and shyly
caught hold of Mrs. Wilson’s hand,
while the two stood at some distance
from the litter of ropes until the irate
man should announce that the lesson was
ended.

Neal had left the tent at the first word
of command, and it seemed as if he could
hardly have gotten outside before he re-
turned, followed by a broad-shouldered,
rough-looking man.

“Here, Bassett,” Mr. Wilson cried,
angrily, “what sort of men have you got
who don’t know how to hang fid-lights?”

“The men had nothing to do with them,
sir. I put ’em up myself knowin’ you
was to give the little miss a lesson this
morning. I took especial pains to run
all the halliards out of the way in case
you wanted to sling the bar.”

As he spoke the man began coiling up
the ropes with a look of mystification on
his face, and Mr., Wilson added:

“A man who has been with a show ten
years ought to know how to make a rope

“The halliards were all right before you
came into the ring,” Bassett replied, im-
patiently, adding quickly as he examined
the ends of the rope: “See here, Mr.
Wilson! This has been cut! Some of the
village loafers have taken it into their
heads to make mischief, and it’s a won-
der the child wasn’t killed.”

It was necessary for the ring-master to
scrutinize the strands some seconds be-
fore he could convince himself that the
canvasman’s statement was correct, then,
turning to his wife, he said:

“Take June back. We’ll have no more
of the lesson to-day, and in the future
Howe must have men enough on the out-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE WARNING CAME TOO LATE.

the ring directly in front of him, and,
leaping aside over the circle, threw his
rider violently to the earth.

By the merest chance Mrs. Wilson and
Neal, both of whom had been standing
almost directly beneath the hanging
lamps, escaped injury; but the ring-mas-
ter was knocked down by a blow on the
head from the suddenly loosened hal-
liards, and lay near June partially uncon-
scious.

Mrs. Wilson and Neal both sprang to
the girl's assistance; but before they
reached her she raised her head and asked
in a bewildered tone:

“What was the matter? Why did the
horse jump so queerly?”

“Are you hurt?” Mrs. Wilson asked,
without paying any attention to June’s
question. ; ;

For reply the girl sprang up nimbly,
and at the same time Mr. Wilson stag-
gered to his feet, while the horse cantered
back to the dressing-room as if to inti-
mate that he had had enough of such
nonsense for one day. ;

The ring-master paid no attention to
any injury he or his — might have re-
ceived. ' The fact that the fid-lamps had
been slung so carelessly as to permit of
their falling without apparent cause,
made him very angry.

“Neal, go out and send the boss canvas-
man in here,” he said, sharply. “If work
is to be done in this fashion nobody

 

5

BEFORE NEAL FULLY REALIZED WHAT HAD HAPPENED, THE
TIGER SEIZED THE BLEEDING HAND BETWEEN HER TEETH !

||

side to watch for such villains, for no-
body knows what may happen. Neal, go
with my wife, and let her try to get some
of that sticking plaster off your face be
fore the performance begins.”

The three did as they were bidden, and
while Bassett was repairing the damage
done, Mr. Wilson went out to look for
the proprietor.

The canvasman called for assistance,
and with the laborers came Sim Thomas,
who looked around eagerly as_ if +search-
ing for something.

Mr. Bassett was not a man who talked
unnecessarily, and instead of explaining
what had ere he directed the help-
ers to swing the lamps without loss of
time after the halliards were spliced.

Sim lounged around several moments;
but gained no information, and then as
the canvasman passed near, he asked:

“Was the little girl hurt very much?”

“What girl?” Bassett asked, gruffly.

“The one who was taking her lesson
when the fid-lights fell.” :

“How did you know anything about
it?” and the canvasman looked at the ex-
hostler searchingly.

“T heard—— Why—— The men were——
I was at the cook-wagon when Neal came
for you,” Mr. Thomas stammered, his
face growing very red as he tried on the
spur of the moment to make what might
sound like a truthful statement.

“Seeing that not a word has. been

knows when the tent may come tumbling« spoken outside the tent about the acci-

down. It is time that people connected

with this show were made_ to understand

their duties. If that accident had hap-
ened during a performance there would
ave been no end of a row.” — “
June looked as if she fancied the ring-

 

dent, I’d like to know how you are so
well posted,” Mr. Bassett said, looking
suspiciousiy at him, who replied, inno-
cently:

“A man would have to be mighty deaf
who couldn’t hear Wilson storming

 

———

around, and unless a feller was blind
he’d see what has happened.”

_The canvasman made no reply; but con-
tinued to gaze at the ex-hostler in a man-
ner that caused the latter to feel de-
cidedly uncomfortable, and after a few
seconds he slouched out of the tent, mut-
tering to himself:

“If Jenny still holds to it that the girl
must leave the show, we shall both get
into trouble.”

CHAPTER VI.

THE SCENT OF BLOOD.

oN
¢
>

O HEN Mr. Thomas left the tent
YAY he met Neal, who was entering
the property-room, and on him

the ex-hostler vented his ill-
feelings, beginning by saying:

“Look here, you young whelp, I want
to know what you’ve been telling Bas-
sett about me?” ;

“Why, I haven’t spoken with him this
morning,” Neal replied, looking up in
surprise.

_“Don’t lie to me,” the man cried, ang-
rily. “I ain’t forgotten what you asked
last night after the baggage wagon was
Pees an’ it’s time we had an explana-

ion.”

“But that was all I said. After what I
heard you and your friend talking about
in the menagerie-tent it was only reason-
able to suppose you had something to do
with the accident. Even if I’d wanted
to tell anybody there’s been no chance
since we got into town.”

“So you was playing the sneak, eh?”
Thomas asked, ina savage tone. “ Well,
[ suppose every one knows by this time
about the joke 1 was playing on the coun-
try jay.”

“I haven’t spoken toa person except
Mike; but if it was a joke, Mr. Thomas,
how did the animal cages happen to be
open just at the time somebody tried to
rob the ticket wagon?”

_ For an instant the ex-hostler stood as
if endeavoring to restrain his anger, and
then he said, hoarsely:

“Look here, Mr. Smarty, if you ever
tell that about me, and remember it’s a
lie, for I haven‘t been in the menagerie-
tent since last week, I’ll break ever
bone in your body. Because you’re oak
enough to take up Professor Kunkle’s
job with the tiger when he stopped,
owing to there being no show of wages,
don’t think it is possible to brow-beat
me. Yip one word of what you claim
was said, and I’]l chew you all up.”

Tbis threat aroused Neal’s anger, and
he replied, boldly:

“There’s no use in trying to scare me.
I know what you said yesterday, and I’m
not afraid to tell it, although there’s no
need of doing so unless you make a row.”

For an instant it looked as if Sim in-
tended to chastise the boy then and there;
but he evidently concluded it would not
be quite safe, and walking away with a
swaggering air, said, threateningly:

“Don’t think it ain’t possible to say too
much jest because you’re small, or some
of these days I’ll knock you’re two eyes
into one.”

Neal was not great];
went to attend to his
erty tent.

Immediately on reaching the women’s
dressing-room Mrs. Wilson began to
make light of the accident for June’s es-
pecial benefit, knowing full well] that
once a pupil becomes frightened it is
difficult to restore perfect confidence; but
the zirl soon showed that she was not
really disturbed.

“Tf those lamps hadn’t fallen I’m sure
I could have stood up without the swing-
ing bar or straps. Learning to ride isn’t
hard if the horses are like the one I had.”

“There’s no difference of stride between
any of them, but some are more spirited
than others,” Mrs. Wilson replied. “Do
you want to take another lesson to-mor-
row?”

“Of course,” and June opened her eyes
wide with astonishment that such a
question should have been asked. “The
lamps won’t fall again, and I want to do
my share in the show as soon as possi-
ble.”

This conversation was interrupted by
the entrance of Neal, and Mrs. Wilson
immediately turned her attention to mak-
ing him more presentable.

By washing the deep scratches with
warm water very much of the adhesive
plaster was removed; but the wounds had
hardly begun to heal, and Mrs. Wilson
insisted that several of the more serious
cuts should be recovered.

_ “It won’t do to go into the ring look-
ing as if I had been fighting,” Neal re-
plied, decidedly. “After the show is over
to night you can put on more plaster; but
there’s no need of it now.”

Mrs. Wilson was eager.to do what she
thought necessary; but Neal objected so
strongly that all persuasion was useless,
and she said, with a sigh:

“Why is it that boys will be so head-
strong? You’ll surely catch cold; but it

‘alarmed, and he
uties in the prop-

won't be through any fault of mine,”

 
 

 

 

 

74:2

 

“No, indeed,” Neal replied, with a
laugh. “You sha’n’t be blamed, and be-
fore we leave town I’ll] let you plaster me
all over. Come, June, let’s go to see
Commodore Tiny. The circus won’t begin
for two hours yet, and his show has just
opened.”

The new member of the Royal Amphi-
theater was ready to go anywhere around
the grounds, and until dinner-time she
and Neal listened to the dwarf’s compla-
cent remarks concerning himself, the
marvel of the nineteenth century, as he
modestly announced,

“Whatever you do,” the little man said
in a whisper, as a giant evinced a desire
to make June’s acqaintance, “don’t be
friendly with General Stout. He is a very
ill-natured man, and, as fora curiosity,
why I don’t consider he’s worth half as
much money per week as lam, although
Mr. Howe gives him the very same.”

“If you are going to run down the gen-
eral we shall leave,” Neal said, decidedly.
“He's a good friend of niine, and it isn’t
fair to listen when ugly things are said
about him.”

The dwarf waved his visitors a digni-
fied adieu as they left the tent, and then
turned to glare fiercely at the unoffend-
ing giant, who really was, as Neal had
said, a friendly sort of person.

A walk to the hotel, an unsatisfactory
dinner thrown on the'table rather than
served properly, and then Neal and June
returned to the tent that the former might
dress for his share of the performance.

“I’m going to sit on the very top seat
this afternoon, where I can see you go
into Beauty’s cage,” she said, as they
parted toenter their respective dressing-
tents, and he replied with a laugh:

“You won’t see anything very wonder-
ful, for it isn’t much more than fooling
with a kitten.”

When the grand entree was made Neal
looked around for June, and after. some
search he found her among the crowd di-
rectly, opposite where Beauty’s cage
would stand when it was brought into
the ring.

From that moment he had neither the
time nor the opportunity to observe her
again, for; until the close of Mademoi-
selle Jeanette’s act, he was so very busy
that several seconds elapsed from the an-
nouncement of the “ Young Tiger Tamer’s”
appearance before he could respond.

The wagon was drawn in by four gayly
caprisoned horses; the ring-master told
of the wonderful daring about to be dis-
played, and, as the band played an in-
spiriting air, Neal bounded into the ring,
only Mike remaining as assistant to the
performer.

“Bad cess to the man what sinds a lad
in wid a cruel baste,” the Irishman mut-
tered, as he stood near the cage to open
the door, and hearing him, Neal said in
a whisper:

“Don’t be foolish, _Mike. Beauty
wouldn’t hurt a fly unless he tickled her
nose.”

The last word was hardly spoken when
the boy leaped into the wagon and began
to pet the tiger, who purred and rubbed
around him as if enjoying the: companion-

ship.

Neal never attempted to make the ani-
mal perform the.tricks taught her by pro-
fessor Kunkel; but contented himself and
the audience by fondling the big cat, sit-
ting on her back, or lying’ between her

aws.

In executing this last maneuver, the
tiger, probably to show her satisfaction
at being with him, began: to lick his
hand, and her rough tongue irritated the
scatches to such an extent that he leaped
up gurekiy in order to put an end to the
painful endearments.

Neal did not think of startling the ani-
mal by arising so quickly.

Beauty arose at the same moment, and
following closely to the other end of the
cage, again lapped his hand eagerly, this
time so vigorously that the wounds were
reopened, allowing the blood to flow
quite freely.

Mike, who was standing near the bars,
saw the animal’s eyes glow, and he cried
in a low, hurried tone:

“Get.out of there quick, lad! The baste
is ready for mischief!”

The warning came too late. Even be-
fore Neal fully realized what had hap-
pened, the tiger, uttering a low growl,
seized the bleeding hand between her
teeth; but the ery of pain which burst
from the boy’s lips checked her from
‘doing more than to hold him fast.

Mike had sprung toward the edge of
the ring as he spoke, and wrenching one
of the iron-shod stakes from the ground,
dashed forward as Neal, pushing his hand
far down the animals throat, literally

‘backed her to the opposite end of the

cage.

When the Irishman reached the door he
‘saw the mischief had already been done,
-and with a loud cry for help he leaped in
where, having fallen on one knee, Neal
was doing his best by soothing words to
: ertade the beast into letting go her

old,

(TO BE CONTINUED,)

eee RSS AL em se

DARING DEEDS OF BOYS,

ai eas

BY NATHAN D. URNER.

——o————

NUMBER TWELVE.

Fritz Bertolz, the Tyrolese Guide Boy.
ee
Pp ARLY in the month of May, 1862,
% 4) Colonel Ten Broeck, a wealthy

o.d4 American of leisure, accompanied

by Dr. Cresswell, his friend and
traveling companion, passed with great
haste through the lovely valley of Cha-
monix, toward the little village of the
same name.

The steeds of their post-chaise were
splashed from head to foot, the vehicle
was in a sorry condition, and the gentle-
men themselves appeared jaded and tired,
for they had been on the road almost in-
cessantly for over twenty-four hours.

The weather was raw, rainy; and the
most dangerous for travelers in the Al-

 

pine regions.

The snow had disappeared from the
larger valleys, but the torrents they had
crossed were swollen to the very verge of
their rocky banks as the swift-thawing
snows gorged them at their lofty source,
and almost hourly could be heard the far-
rumbling thunder of the distant ava-
lanche,

The river Arve, as they clattered over

it shot upon its impetuous course.

of the inn-yard, doctor,” said Ten Broeck,
leaning out of the window, and strain-
ing his eyes as he spoke. “Yes,
there is their empty coach, too, in the
inn-yard! By Jovel we are in time—
the

“IT hope so, colonel,” said the doctor,
much mniore composedly;
and philosophical than his friend.
it is best not to be too sare. They may
have joined some other party, and at-
tempted the expedition in another coach.”

“You always appear to have your
bucketful of cold water ready the mo-
ment aman begins to flatter himself,

Ten Broeck, somewhat. pettishly: “but
here we are at the inn, and the truth will
soon be known.”

“Very soon,” replied the doctor.

There was the usual convocation of
gaping clowns and peasants, with a few

travel-stained coach clattered into the
sequious inn-servants as they alighted.

changing their clothes?” “Will messieurs:

morning?” ete.

No; “messieurs” would first see the:
innkeeper, and inquire what had become:
of the three
gentlemen and a lady—who must have
put u
ing of the preceding day.

immediate neighborhood,” said Colonel
Ten Broeck, speaking to the propietor in
French; “for I see their coach standing:
in the yard.”

“Oh, mon Dieu! was milor the father
whom the lady and the young gentlemen
had so earnestly expected? And

had started for the Jungfrau that very
morning, and had not yet returned?”

The innkeeper was puzzled, and at the:
same time evidently felt more alarm tham
he wished to exhibit,

But “milord” wasn’t aware of anything
of the kind, and this information caused
him to reel back, as if stricken by a sud-
den and bitter blow.

“My children, my children! Heaven,
doctor! we are too late—too late!” he
groaned, in bitterest anguish.

“Don’t be sosure of it, colonel,” said
the other, who evidently had the happy
faculty of throwing water upon black im-
pressions as well as upon hasty hopes.
“The servants arevalready carrying up
our luggage to our room.
up, colonel, and be cheerful. I will make
further inquiries respecting those whom
we seek, and will be with you in a trice.”

“But we should start after them imme-
diately. Something should be done at
once. I shall never rest till——”

“Certainly,” interrupted the other, sar-
castically, though he sympathized deeply
with his pale and trembling friend; “it
is already dark, without: moon or star,
and we should both of us set out instant-
ly, and commence to climb the ice-preci-
pices of the Jura, like criminals in a.
treadmill. Oh, yes; the duty is as plain
as our nose on our face.”

“But, my dear doctor-——”

“But, my dear colonel, will you leave
this affair to me, or will you not? That

 

well, energetically, “There goes Jean

on

“T can see the village, and the interior |
and |

hayven’t yet commenced the ascent.” |
for, though |

younger, he was much more methodical |
“But:
ut!

with pleasant impressions,” said Colonel '

curious tourists here and there, as the’

yard of the picturesque little hotel, and!
the travelers were surrounded by the ob- |

ie Will messieurs be shown toa room!
immediately, or partake of dinner before:|

require a guide the first thing in the
young Americans—two.,

at the same tavern on the morn- |

“Of course, they are still here, or in the:

Follow them |

NEWS. .

your own servant, with the last valise. '

Go upstairs, and I will be with-you in
ten minutes.”

The colonel obeyed passively, as his
friend almost’ thrust him to the foot of
the narrow stair-case, for, alarmed and
excited as he was, he had had too many
proofs of the strength and efficacy of that
friendship to doubt it now in the hour of
his deepest need.

Colonel’ Ten Broeck’s traveling party
had, upon their quitting Paris for the
German tour, consisted of Dr. Cresswell
and himself, his two sons—young men,
just grown—Arthur and George, and his
daughter, Miss Fanny Ten Broeck, a
young lady whose accomplishments and
beauty had caused ‘a ‘sensation in’ the
salons of the imperial palace, and who
had everywhere shone as a star in fash-
ionable and aristocratic circles.

Upon arriving at Geneva, the young
people had gone on, in company with a
gay French party, headed by the young
Duc de Longpierre, whose acquaintance
they had formed at the Tuileries, while
the colonel and doctor had remained at
Geneva, to enjoy the hospitalities of the
American minister to Switzerland, who
happened to be sojourning there at the
ee and who was a personal friend of
oth.

It was during the second aes after the
| departure of the younger members of his
| party, that Colonel Ten Broeck had casu-
} ally made known to the minister the fact

|

 

as they should reach Chamonix. The
minister had expressed the utmost as-
tonishment upon receiving’ this intelli-
gence.

“Such an attempt at this: season of the
year would be nothing short of sheer
madness,” he had exclaimed. “ Destruc-
tion could be its only result. The thaw
of this spring has been unusually sudden
and rapid; avalanches were never more
frequent: and devastating than at pres-
ent; even the most experienced tourists
| hesitate before making the ascent of the
| lesser glaciers.”
| “But, of course, the young people will
be apprised by the guides of their danger,
as soon as they reach Chamonix,” said
the colonel, turning pale;
know of their peril in time to avoid it,
i by deferring their expedition.”

Mr. minister, shook his

 

 

—_——, e
thead gravely.

“My dear Ten Broeck,” he replied, “I

fear they will not receive the necessary
| information. It has heen a hard winter;
tke guides would net ‘be apt to give in-
formation that would rob them of the
florins they covet, They, atleast, will
dare anything for their subsistence,”
» Colonel Ten Broeck had turned ghastly
pale at this announcement, but his
friend, the energetic doctor, had come
‘promptly to his assistance.

“There is one thing to be done under
i the circumstances,” he had said, cheerily.
“That is for you and I, colonel, to make
‘post haste for Chamonix at once, and de-
ter these hair-brained adventurers before
they have time to begin their expedition.
| I shall order the coach and the necessary
i relays of horses, immediately.”

This had been done, the two friends
had traveled incessantly, barely pausing
long enough to appease their hunger, and
| they now found themselves at the little

 

 

| Alpine village, only to discover that they , would be ready to start at daybreak, ha

) were too late.
i The doctor made the necessary inquir-

wasn’t.) ies of. the innkeeper and then sought his. horror, but which appeared ridicu
milor aware that the parties he sought friend, who was nervously pacing the ; insignificant to the wealthy colonel. the

| floor of the little room allotted him, ex-
| cited and anxious. The doctor’s inter-
| view with the people of the botel had by
| no means been satisfactory, but his coun-
| tenance and bearing were suggestive.. of
| cheerful encouragement.
| “Well!” exclaimed. the colonel, look-
j ‘ing up impatiently. ;
i “All serene, colonel,” said his friend,
| rubbing his hands and poking the wood
i fire that erackled on the hearth. .“The
; young people qvitted the village this
‘morning, in company with the, Duc de
| Longpierre’s arty. The . innkeeper
| hasn’t a doubt but that they are at
present stopping over night .at. the Con-
| vent of St. Bernard. We will rest:heart-
ily to-night, and in .the morning be after
‘the young sc¢apegraces with a sharp
stick.”

“There will be little rest, and less
‘slumber for me .in the “meantime,” said
the anxious father, still continuing to
‘pace the floor nervously. “Have you en-
‘gaged guides for the morning?”

“No, not—not yet,” said Dr. Cresswell,
| seratching his chin, in some perplexity.
_ The keen eyes of the colonel detected
his friend’s embarrassment and guessed
its meaning.

“Doctor,” he exclaimed, coming to a
‘standstill and confronting him, “do not

 

>| bestow any false pity upon me—be frank,

i and let me know the exact state of the
, case.”
| “Well, to tell the truth,” was the’ re-

is the question,” exclaimed Dr. Cress- | ply, “all of the guides whom I have seen , his victorious spears,

‘refuse to aecompany us, They say the

+

cell
/

“they will |

 

aths are so treacherous, and the ava«
anches so numerous that is like tempt;
ing Providence, and all that sort 0
thing.”

The unhappy colonel groaned, and grew
paler than before, if that were possible.

“What!” he cried; “the guides, the

trained mountaineers, themselves; refuse
to make the attempt, and yeti my inex-

| perienced children commenced the dread- -
‘ful task this morning. Oh, this is too ter-
'rible!”

“Don’t be cast down by. the refusal of 4
parcel of dastardly vagabonds,” cried the
doctor. “See, here comes our supper, and
after we have discussed that, we will g0
down together and make another attempt -
to engage a guide for the morning.”

The smoking viands tempted both, for
they had endured great fatigue, wit
scarcely more food than‘rest. When they
had concluded their repast, and the three
‘bottles of Gernian wine that accompanle
'it, they descended ‘to’ the chief room 9°
the inn.

A number of guides and peasants, who
were grouped uround the single stove J?
the center of the room, eyed ‘them with
stolid curiosity as they approached, a2
the nervous little landlord came forwar@
rubbing. his hands and grinning his
| politeness. 1
| “Messieurs,” said he; “I have sent @

through the bamlet in quest of a guide
for you in the morning; but the only pe
I can find willing to undertake the tas

 

it on the narrow, high-arched bridge, | that his children would probably under- | is Fritz Bertolz.”
roared hoarsely and foamed furiously as} take the ascent of Mont Blane as soon |

“Well, well! is hea good guide?” asked
the.colonel.
“Admirable, but—but——”
“But what? Out with it, man?”
| “Pardonez, milor,” said the innkeepe
“but milor may find fault with little
Fritz, on account of his extreme yout i
and beside, Fritz is a Tyrolese, wo
makes him in bad repute throughout the
valley.”
| “TI don’t care if he’s a Japanese, so lop
as he’ll guide me to my children!” erle
Ten Broeck, impetuously. “Where is the
young man?”
|” “He will pay his. respects to milor ei
ently,” was the reply. “Fritz is 1 t
hamlet, endeavoring to procure two young
men to accompany him as under-guides, |
In a few minutes Fritz Bertolz made wa
appearance and a respectful obeisance
i the two friends at one and thesame nS
| The other guides and peasants about ie
i stove eyed him with prejudice an di ‘
like, but as the keen and experienced &¥°
|of Dr. Cresswell made a swift, invesUB®
‘tion of the youthful form and strones
‘dark features, he whispered to his frie? a
“This fellow will answer our purpos®
Secure him at his own price.” | th
Young Bartolz was in his eighteen”
‘year, but he was tall, and looked ™¥ \-
older. His frame was sturdy and Pita:
knit, and its fine proportions were —.
|played to advantage by his picturesd
mountain costume. He had coarse;¢U 8
ling black hair, piercing black eyes; Wo
'as swarthy as a Tartar, and, whet th
smiled or spoke, displayed a set of Me
whose evenness and whiteness & ducer
might have envied... He appeared be ef
gard the insolent staring of the ot.
‘guides with superlative. contempt, ers
answered the questions of the travelé
with marked civility and respect. ie
He had engaged two men—Tyrole®s
like himself—to accompany him,

‘named his price—one which made t th

ats , + aves Wi
standing Switzers roll-up thei Oy ously

The engagement was ratified, aD tS
travelers retired to their apartmeé er
| though their rest, during the remalD by
‘of the night, was constantly broke? wae
the unusual sound of. the falling Ane

lanche, and the continuous roar 0
i ad like. 2?

r

The colonel’s coach was ready soo? afl
sunrise, and, after a hasty breakfage .—
were aboard, the two. under. gut ay
rough, stolid fellows, with nothing bo vel
—oecupying the interior, with the © iD
and the doctor, and young Bertolz talkie
ae position beside Jean, the Fr
river. oti

In about an hour they reached the £f
of the Jura and abandoned their Ctieg _
and horses at the little inn which ee lane
between. Montanvert and Mont B q
'Iron-shod staves were here distribute od
| Hritz, whose companions carried, tte
dition. to their staves, the long we pelt
ropes that were to assist them 1?
perilous ascent.
| They then began to climb Mon first
,It was yet early morning—and the in:
| bright one that had dawned in the v pth
Hy of Chamonix for nearly a ™

e

impetuous Arve, which. spe
SELOW almost directly beneath the
ow.

 

in
mists still lingered, impenetrablés J
' the ravines and chasms of the AlpS: "ine
ging their tattered skirts slovenly UP
steep acclivities, as the newly-ris hues:
| bathed the sharp glaciers in roseate “ity
and pierced the abysses, one by ones thelt
But, upon the
gaining a point about half-way UP
* we

t Blane: —

en AY as

a

 

 

CR ee ee mes oes Le or ee ee ee

RHerme Of 8
ye ———— _ =

a Se SS Se

ot ak ey

SON NO et Te Bh ee on Sa Se

 

 

 

P

 

——— tecnica

monarchical mountain, even the valleys

cleared up, and the grand and wonderful
anorama was spread, like a map, at their
eet.

They paused to admire it, but their
young guide exhorted them to haste.

“We must reach the monastery at the
earliest moment, messieurs,”. he said.
“The unusual beauty of the morning is
more deceitful and dangerous than the
descending rain. Listen!”

They did so, and heard the roar of an
avalanche so loud and near as to startle
them; and they hastened up: the tortuous
and slippery path, with young Bertolz
in the lead.

Bad news was waiting them at the
mouastery. The party they were seeking
had passed the night there, and then con-
tinued the ascent at daybreak, against
the advice of a friar, and in opposition
to the warnings of their own guides. A
disagreement had arisen in the party. The
Americans, with their guide, had separa-
ted trom their friends and started on the
direct ascent. The Due de. Longpierre
and his party had returned to the lower
road, in order to have the advantage of
the carriage-way along the edge of the
cliffs, before making the ascent of the
upper cone, or glacier proper. er

The good monks concluded their infor-
mation by beseeching the party to give
up their quest.

“There have been two avalanches since
the party of madmen and madwomen
quitted us this morning,” said they.
“They must all have perished ere this,
and you, messieurs, can do nothing but
encounter a similar after.”

“Fritz, move on, without an instant’s
delay!” exclaimed Colonel Ten Broeck,
though his face was as white. as a sheet;
and, disregarding the warnings of the
holy men, they struck into the narrow icy
path and up the direct ascent.

They had been using their iron-shod
Staves continually, but now had to have
recourse to.the knotted ropes as well.
Fritz, in the lead, took one end of the
line, one of his assistants the other, and
the remaining guide steadied it in the
middle, thus furnishing a sot of rail, or
barrier, to the travelers, who clambered
up the narrow path as best they might,
keeping well against the side of the preci-
pice, and not daring to glance into the
tremendous abyss on the other side.

A low rumbling thunder filled the air,
as they came upon a narrow plateau,
which overlooked nearly one entire side
of Mont Blanc.

The gtiides crossed themselves, and
Fritz Bertolz signaled the party to make
& pause, at the same time uttering the
Single word “avalanche!”

He pointed along the slope to the east-
ward, and they saw what appeared to be
the entire side of the mountain moving
Solemnly and silently down, Hundreds
of acres of snow were in motion, throw-
ing up jets and fountains of spray, like
that of an angry sea, where some obsta-
cle temporarily opposed their course, and
Sending forth a low, terrible roar, as of
an approaching earthquake.

But more frightful than the imposing
avalanche was the sight presented by the
Post-road, which ran along the edge of

he precipice, just below the course of the
Slowly sliding masses. There, crowded to
he very verge of the abyss by the en-
Croaching avalanche, shut off from all

Ope of human aid, were the party of
French tourists. The coach-horses were
Standing as motionless as if carved of
bronze, frozen with fear. The guides
Were on their knees. Some of the excita-
ble gentlemen composing the party were
Tunning about the narrow space in wild
and useless terror. The young Due de

Ongpierre alone stood erect, resigned,
and motionless, with the beautiful Coun-
tess de Montfort, his affianced bride,
Clasped in his arms.

The witnesses of this terrible scene
Were almost. petrified. Dr. Cresswell
&azed upon it with speechless horror,
While Colonel Ten ‘Broeck fell upon his

Nees, and rendered up mute thanks-
Sivings tothe Eternal that his children
jormed not a portion of the doomed tour-
Sts,

The avalanche gave a sudden bound.
here was one wild cry—a woman’s—and
then the thousands of tons of ice and
Show went whirling over the post-road,
and roaring over the precipice, filling the
abyss with the smoke of their thundering
escent.

When it cleared away, the unhappy
travelers’ were nowhere to be seen, and,
Over the place where they stood, a new-

Orn torrent stole along the ledge, and
boured into the chasm like liquid steel.

‘God of Heaven! Inever dreamed of
being a witness to such a horrible fate,”
8asped the colonel. “And my children,
tht. i they have shared it long ere

Ss ”

“No!” cried the Tyrolese guide-boy,
Pointing upward with his staff, “there
hey are upon the summit.”

Yes, there they were upon the very
poex of the ley cone, where they had
fen deserted by their guide, The ava-

 

 

 

 

GooD NEWs.

lanche had left. a vast space of bare rock
between them and the end of the thread-
like path, but it was nearly perpendicu-
lar and almost perfectly smooth. They,
too, were apparently shut off from all
earthly aid. . The two under-guides
grunted stupidly at the embarrassing sit-
uation, and the colonel and his friend
sent up a wild shout. in concert, which
was faintly returned by the bewildered
trio on the height, who had apparently
witnessed the terrible fate of their fellow-
tourists, and now seemed paralyzed by
their own predicament.

“Theré is only one way,” said Fritz
Bertolz, quietly. “Messieurs, remain on
the plateau, and we will see what can be
done for the unfortunates.”

He gaye some hasty instructions to his
subordinates, and then, followed. by
them, began, hatchet in hand, to crawl
up the apparently inaccessible glacier.
The distance to’ the summit was nearly
four hundred feet, but they made their
way surely and-slowly, while watched
from both above and below with indescri-
bable anxiety.

When about one-third of the distance
was attained, one of the subordinate
guides paused, and improved his position
by cutting a firm foothold into the face
of therock. The others crept on, upward
and upward, till another third of the dis-
tance was attained, when the other subor-

,

dinate made a pause, while young Bertolz |

moved upward alone.

“He cannot scale the’ summit—it is
simply impossible!” exclaimed the colo-
nel, white tothe lips with anxiety and
suspense. “Nothing short of an eagle’s
wing could surmount that smooth, bare
precipice !”

“Give the lad time, colonel,” was the
only response the doctor made.

Slowly, inch by inch, and foot’ by foot,
the brave boy carved and hewed-his way
upward. Both travelers gave a mighty
shout as they saw him step over the
ledge, and stand among the bewildered
tourists,

By means of the ropes, which he and
his comrades carried wound around their
bodies, the young lady first; and then the
young gentlemen, one after another, were
partly lowered, partly assisted down,
from one guide to another.

The plan was attended with infinite
risk, but it was successful, and soon the
entire party. were gathered together on the
little plateau. Colonel Ten Broeck was
too overjoyed at the salvation of his chil-
dren to scold them very severely.

The return to Chamonix was: accom-
plished. in safety, and Fritz Bertolz was
the lion of the valley for many months;
though the foregoing was. only one of the
many daring exploits that; distinguished
his life. None of the bodies of those who
were overwhelmed by the avalanche were
ever recovered.

INCUBATORS.

——-+

HOW TO MAKE ONE,

 

 

   
 
 

AHERE are two kinds of incubators
> in general use—one depending on a
lamp ‘to generate heat, and. the
other using hot water. We think
the latter style preferable for several rea-
sons. A lamp is liable to explode; it will
generally smoke and make the air foul;
it is likely to set fire to the incubator,
and the heat it emits is too dry. Hot
water is open to none of these objections,
and the only drawback is that. the ineu-
bator requires alittle more attention to
preserve the proper temperature... The
best. size for an incubator is a box ‘two
feet square and twenty inches high. Use
seasoned wood—this is imperative—at
least. one inch in thickness, and. make
the sides and bottom of the box double,
placing between each portion heavy. felt

aper. If you have the skill, you had
4 Fe dovetail the outer box; if not, nail
together very strongly... When you have
fitted the inner box inthe outer one,
screw it in firmly, and then putty every
outside crack or crevice and give it two
good coats of paint. The top of your box
should be “on stout hinges: it may be
double or single, as you please, but it
must. fit very snugly. In order to effect
this, tack an inch strip of felt around thé
edge of the box, so that the lid will pinch
it down when closed. In the center of
the lid insert a piece of thick glass about
four inches by six inches, through whi¢h
to read the thermometer; if this cannot
be done, you must make a small trap-
door in the lid, for, the same purpose. Of
course, the trap-door must fit as snugly
as the main lid. The nexf. thing is, to
make a hot-water tank. The best. mate-
rial is galvanized iron, although. tin will
do. It is better to have a tinsmith make
the tank, as it must be air-tight. In one
end near the upper edge of the tank you
must solder an iron or tin. pipe, and a
similar one in the opposite end. As
these pipes project outside the incubator,
it will be necessary to build the box
around the tank, which should fit snug-

 

enna aoe

"743

 

ly, and be at least eight inches deep.
Then to- one of these projecting pape fit
afunnel; this is the supply pipe. ‘To the
other attach a faucet, to draw off the
water when necessary. When not in use,
the faucet must be turned so that it will
not drip, and the supply pipe. tightly
corked. At.a distance of six inches
above’ the top of the tank, insert all
around the inside of the box, about four
inches apart and projecting two inches,
stout wooden pegs, with the upper side
smoothed flat. These pegs are for the
egg-drawer to rest upon, and they must
be inserted so firmly that they cannot
“wabble,” as it is imperative that the
eggs be not disturbed. The egg-drawer
is simply a,box two inches deep, divided
into compartments two inches by two
inches and three-quarters. Use three-
quarter-inch. stuff. for the box and
quarter-inch stuff for the compartments.
Make the drawer so that it will fit loosely
in the box, allowing about a quarter-
inch space on all sides. .This_ is to allow
the heat to ascend regularly. The divis-
ion between the compartments should not
be more than half an inch, or just sufli-
cient to keep the eggs separate. With
thick canton-flannel line these compart-
ments neatly,’ and then’ half-fill them
with chaff. A drawer, such as described,
will hold about seventy-five eggs, and
that is as many as you will care to
handle. In placing the eggs in the drawer
mark each one on top with a pencil
mark, so that you may turn them regu-
larly. Before starting the incubating
process, first test the incubator. Pro-
vide yourself with a good thermometer,
with a scale marked to one hundred and

' thirty degrees, and lay it on the egg-

drawer. Close the lid, and fili the tank
with boiling water. After six hours,
draw off the water and refill the tank.
Watch your thermometer, and about
three times a day draw off about one-
fourth of the water and replace it with
boiling water. When, by these experi-
ments, which may take two or three
days, you find you can regulate the heat
to one hundred and three to one hundred
and five degrees, put in your eggs, Just
before putting in the eggs, increase the
temperature to about one’ hundred and
ten degrees, as it will take considerable

extra heat to warm them up the first

time. Select clean, fresh eggs, and
handle them as little as possible. It is
advisable to wear a cotton glove in turn-
ing the eggs, first warming it over the
stove.

Three Books Give Away to Every Reader
HR E.

SERIES “BR”

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Commenced in No. 19-and Ended in No, 30.

—e

 

 

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by sending us the set complete we will send

you any three books in the *‘Goop Nrws”

Lrprary that you may select from the fol-

lowing list.

There are no conditions in this premium
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bering from 1 to 12, inclusive. The first
twelve numbers of ‘“Goop News” Lisrary
have been carefully selected from the entire
list of the well-known ‘‘Golden Library.”
Future issues of ‘‘Goop News” Liprary will
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Make Your Own Selections.
“GOOD NEWS” LIBRARY

No. 1.—CAMP AND CANOE; or, Cruise of
the Red Jackets in Florida, by St. George
Rathborne.

No. 2.—SENT ADRIFT; or, ‘
World on Bighty Cents, by Henry A. Wheeler.

Ne. 3.—A YOUNG BLUE JACKET; or, En-
listed for the War, by Robert. kb. Morse.

Ne. 4.-BOY CARIBOU-HUNTERS; or,
Treasure-Trove of Hudson Bay, by Charles

No. 5.-ALL ABOARD; or, The Rival
Boat Clubs, by ee oe

mA

Around the

No. 6—EVERY INCI BOY: or, An
pmpstour Actor’s Adventures, by John Tulk-
inghorn. ~

oe. Te WORKING HIS WAY; or, The

9
Brookville Boys’ Club, by Dwight Welden.
No. 8.--TOM BROWNS PLUCK; or, The
Fortunes of a Soldier Boy, by Major A. F.

Grant. :

No. 9.—BRIGHT. AND EARLY; or, The

oy Who Became a Detective, by John

Tulkinehorn. *

—QONE CENT CAPITAL; or, A Young
Clerk’s Adventure, by Archie Van.,

No. 11.—WESTWARD HO! or, The Cabin
in the Clearing, by Henry L. Black

No. 12.—AFLOAT WITH A CIRCUS; or,
ch Fuamend-meguers of Natal, by Henry
. Black.

We will send any one of the aboye books,
postage free, on receipt of 10 cents. Address
“Goop News” Lrprary (Street & Smith),
$1 Rose Street, New York,

 

 

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explosive, dangerous, or worthless articles. If exchange
notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it may fe
understood that they were not accepted. Address all
communications for this column to “Exchange De-
partment.”]

 

LIBRARIES.—Louis Lehr, 2134 Tucker St., Philadel-
phia, Pa., has libraries to exchange for best offer.

BOOKS.—Fred Humphreys, Pratt, Kans., has bound
books to exchanye for novels.

ALBUMS.—F. J. Patton, Denver, Colo., has five of
Allen & Ginter’s latest albums to exchange for best
offer. :

NOVELS.—Allie 8. West. Spencer, Mass., has a large

number of five and ten cent novels to exchange for
best offer.

GUITAR.—B. L..Heylman, Peoria, Ill., has to ex-
change a guitar and flute instructor, for a self-inking
printing press, magic lantern, or best offer.

NOVELS.—Robert J. Kahn, 204 East St., Madison,
Ind., has novels, Goop Nrws papers, and others to ex-
change for carpenters or engraving tools, or best offer.

_BOYS’ PAPERS.—Archer B. Wallace, P. O. Box 9,
Freeport Y., has one volume of boys’ papers, anc

N.
stamp album to exchange for Goop NEws binder, also’

pair of skates, size 9%, cigarette pictures, cigurette cer-
tificates, one font of type, and one novel for best offer.

PRINTING PRESS.—Byron Smith, Box 82, Lockhart,
Tex., has a small printing press to exchange for novels
or any good reading matter. Inclose stamp when:
writing.

STAMPS.—Charles C. Pottenger, Burlington, Kans.,.
has rare foreign and U: 8. stamps to exchange for
printing material or type, also four mixed stamps for
every Allen & Ginter or Kimball’s cigarette slip. Not
less than five taken.

BOOKS.—W. T. McGibbon, Port Hope, Ontario, Can.,

has books to exchange for Goop NEWws.

PRINTING OUTFIT.—Oscar Erickson, 733 Faurquire
St., St. Paul, Minn., has printing outfit; cigarette pic-
tures, stamps, ‘and Goop NeEws to exchange for a
camera or printing press.

STEAM ENGINE.—Lee Seymour, 257 Summit ave.,
St. Paul, Minn., has a steam engine in perfect order
to exchange for a 4 x 5 camera.

MAGIC LANTERN.—Louis W. Bulley, 150 Blatchley
ave., New Haven, Conn., has a magic lantern, twelve
finely colored slides, stamp album, foreign stamps,
games, and boys’ papers to exchange fon best offer.

BOOK.—F. R. Weekes, 227 West 135th St., New York,
has a book to exchange for any other.

CIGARETTE PICTURES.—L. Tucker, Clay Center»
Kans., has cigarette pictures, books, and papers to ex-
change for a guitar or banjo in good condition.

BOOKS.—A. H. Rife, Ridge St., near 33d, Pittsburg,
Pa., has books, songs, libraries, and papers to exchange
for stamp album.

CIGARETTE ALBUMS.—H. A. Hegel, 411 Congress
ave., New Haven, Conn., has cigarette albums to ex-
change for an induction coil or electric motor.

ACCORDION.—W. H. Daniels, 12 Wyatt Court, Som-
erville, Mass ; has an accordion to exchange for a fife
or best offer.

BOOKS.—J. M. Taylor, Boonton, N. J., has books,
boys’ weekly papers, Indian relics, cigarette pictures,
albums, ‘etc., to exchange for set of boxing gloves,
field or opera-glasses with case, autoharp with instruc-
tions and music, or cloth-bound books by boy writers,

TYPEWRITER.—Charles Huebsch, 108. Barber St.’
Chicago, Il, has a typewriter, skates, books, ball, foun-
tain pen, rubber type outtits, tricks, foreign stamps,
coins, reading matter, and a combination lock box
es for a self-inking press with outfit, or best.
offer.

TYPEWRITER.—J. Erickson, 911 South Second St.,.
Philadelphia, Pa., has a small typewriter, book, Goop:
NeEws, games, and some type to exchange for a small
stationary steam engine in good running order.

BOOKS.—W. A. Ross, 87 Windsor St., Boston, Mass.,
has books, foreign stamps, and printing outfit to ex-
change for best offer of foreign coins.

STAMP ALBUM.—Willie E. McGettigan, 2881 Biddle
St., Philadelphia, Pa, has stamp album, books, and
papers to exchange for best offer.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—T. D. Alden, 8. E. corner of lith
and Clay Sts., Topeka, |Kans., has bound volumes of
high grade boys’ papers to exchange for a fountain pen
of standard make in good condition, jor for gymna-
sium apparatus.

CIGARETTE ALBUMS.—L. W. Simonds, 177 Paw-
tucket ave., Providence, R.I., has cigarette albums to
exchange for old postage stamps. Send sheet for ap-
provaL

SILVER WATCH:.—M. E. Taylor, Rome, Ga., thas a
silver watch to exchange for opera-glasses. All letters
answered.

BOOKS.—F. Seyffarth, 24034 East Houston St., New
York, has ten bound volumes of boys’ papers, a base-
ball game, printing press, and stamps to exchange for

st offer.

TEWS.—Edward Lang, 39 Alexander 8t., Chi-
cea hel has Goop News to date, libraries, Secret Ser-
vice Series, and books to exchange for foot-power
scroll saw or best offer.

GOOD NEWS.—W. T. Shepherd, 902 East Marshal!
St., Richmond, Va., has Goop News, books, and maga™
zines to exchange for self-inking printing press.

GAMES.—Wm. J. Kindgen, 318 Fourth ave., New
York, has games to exchange for best offer.

CIGARETTE CARDS.—J. F. Hill, 825 Second St.,
N..E. Washington, D. C. has cigarette cards and certifi-
cates, and fifteen albums to exchange for best offer.

FOREIGN STAMPS.—Chester T. Atkins, Box 120,
Provincetown, Mass., has foreign stamps all in good
order, (some rare,) to exchange for best offer.

GOOD NEWS.—Harry 'Baner, Brooklyn, Iowa, has
Goop NrEws, books, and cigarette albums to exchange
for small printing press or best offer.

THE Special Philatic Society has been reorganized
and every reader of Goop Nrws is wanted.to join. For
rarticulars address with stamped envelope Charles C.

ottenger, Secretary, Burlington, Kans.

READERS of Goop News are invited to join the U. 8
Philatelic Society. Send stamp for full particulars to

. F. Kantner, Secretary, 230 Penn St., Reading, Pa., or
J. 8. Smith, Oak Park, Il.

C, HEMMANN, 128 East 87th St., New York, wonld like
to hear from young gentlemen who wish to join an
amateur band.

FRANK Moorg, Box 99, Salyersville. Ky., wishes to or-
anize a Literary Society with headquarters in his city.
Membership limited to 500, and no one under fourteen
r over eighteen admitted. Full particulars upon re-
ceipt of two-cent stamp.

 
 

 

 

    
   

   
 

gS. STORES:

ISSUED WEEKLY.

W. B. Lawson, Editor.

    

 

NEW YORK, MARCH 28, 18091.

 

Terms to Mail Subscribers:
(POSTAGE FREE.)

onths -- -.-.- 65c. | Lcopy, two years. - $4.00
Pe hs ae) gse.|'The New York Weekly and
6months - - - - - $1.25 | Goop News, both for one
One Year-- - - - - 250) year --- 7 + $4.
2copies, one year- - 4.00

 

How to: SEND Monry.—We will be responsible for
the receipt of money sent to us only when remittance
is made by Post-Oflice Money Order, Bank Check or
Draft, Registered Letter or Express Money Order. We
particularly recommend our subscribers to the Ameri-
can Express Company. who will receive subscriptions
at any of their offices, and guarantee the delivery of
any amount not over $5.00 for the low sum of five
cents. We cannot be responsible for money lost in
transit unless sent in one of the above ways.

To CLuB Ratsers.—We are at all times ready ana
willing to lend you all possible aid, and wiil send, free,
as many sainple copies as you think you can ju-
dicionsly use, together with other advertising matter.

Special inducements made for large clubs.

A)l letters should be addressed to

STREET & SMITH’S GOOD NEWS,

P. 0. Box 2734, 29 & 31 Rose Street, N.Y.

Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line.

 

Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be
obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not
haye them please send direct to this office and we
will supply them by mail on receipt of price.

 

It is assumed that contributions unaccompanted
with stamped envelopes to guarantee their return
if unused, are not regarded by their writers as
worth recovering. ‘Good News” cannot under-
take to send back such manuscripts,

Contents of this Number.

—_—_+——.

“Slaves of the Circus,” by Walter Morris.

“Captain Carey,” by Lieutenant Lionel
Lounsberry.

“Frank and Fearless,” by Horatio Alger,
Jr.

“White-Horse Fred,” by Harry Castlemon.

“Nothing but a Boy,” by Oliver Optic.

“Peter Potter,” by **Jack.”

‘Daring Deeds of Boys,” by Nathan D.
Urner.

“How to Live to be Ninety,”
Adeler.

“The Story the Trapper Told,” by Edward
S. Ellis.

“On the Enemy’s Lines,” by E. T. Taggard

“Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur
Sewall.

‘Interesting Facts,” by John R. Coryell.

And the usual interesting departments.

3984 TIMES,

The Result of the Letter ‘“E” Contest.

The above figure is the correct and offi-
cial count of the number of times the letter
‘*i” appeared in Goop News, dated January
17, 24, 31, February 7, 14, 21, 28, and March
7, 14, 21. This contest has been a very suc-
cessful one, and it was not possible for any
one to know the result, prior to February 7,
the date of closing the competition. Our
editor knew the stories that would be likely
to appear on the pages in question, but they
were in manuscript form, and even he could
not tell what part of the story would run
over from the first page, and how much
would go in the first column of the second
page. We have received thousands of
guesses, and it is very slow work to sort
these out in numbers and dates, and as we
want to give every guesser an equal chance,
we will be obliged to postpone the announce-
ment of the winners until next week, In
cases where more than one guess the same

 

by Max

 

number prizes will be awarded to the guess

FIRST MAILED.

Next week’s issue will contain the full
names and addresses of all prize winners in
the order in which they are entitled to prizes.

Send us the names of your friends who have
not seen Goop News, and we will send them a
sample copy free.

 

GooDpD

Next Week, No, 48,

There will be commenced a story of stirring
country life, describing how a boy with pluck,
perseverance and natural shrewdness began
his career as a fakir at a country fair. The
story is written in a realistic style, and the
scenes and situations are many and natural,
having the true flavor of a lively country
town.

The writer, Mr. James Otis, is so well-
known and popular with the young readers
of the present day, that it is hardly worth
while to say that all may be prepared to
read a good, interesting story, full of ab-
sorbing interest throughout. The story is

~~ TEDDY'S. VENTURE:

The Adventures of a Country Boy at a
Contry Fair,
By J AMES OTIS.

Also next week will appear

Sentenced to Siberia,

By M. Quap.

The name Siberia is seldom spoken, even
in‘the free United States, without a shudder.
Well may the Russian, who has dared to
breathe a word against the Czar, quake with
fear. To be sentenced to this desolate
country means a life of torture and agony.

In our story the victim is a young Amer-
ican, who thinks Uncle Sam can protect her
subjects even in Russia. This mistake
nearly cost him his life.

Week After Next,

Look out for a new story written expressly
for the readers of Goop Nrws, by a favorite
author, entitled,

AMONG THE ESKIMOS;

,

Adventures Under the Aretic Circle,
By EDWARD S. ELLIS.

a

The names, and addresses of the prize
winners in letter “EK” contest will appear
next week.

————_--0-———_—__——

INTERESTING FACTS,

BY JOHN R, CORYELL,

———

Living Death.

HE manner in which nature enables
2 her children to get along in the
world is exceedingly odd. Man
continues to exist with apparent
comfort in the almost roasting heat of
the equator, and in the arctic cold that
will freeze mercury. He accommodates
himself to equal days and nights, or to
the half-yearly light and darkness. He
can live in the thick air of the low-lying
poner or the thin air of the lofty moun-
ain,

With the lower animals this easy ae-
commodation to circumstances is still
more remarkable, and, perhaps, the most
notable instance of it is the temporary
death which overtakes many animals
during the extreme cold weather of
northern latitudes and the extreme hot
weather of tropical countries. The cold-
weather sleep is called hibernation, and
the hot-weather sleep sstivation.

Many persons fancy that the bear is the
only hibernating animal; but, as a mat-
ter of fact, snakes, frogs, squirrels, rats,
snails, and insects all hibernate, while
among other animals crocodiles and liz-
ards wstivate. The manner in which the
various animals go to their living death
is curious enough. The bear, for ex-
ample, prepares for it by getting as fat
as he can. Then he swallows a wad of
pine leaves, which is called the tappen,
and which stops up his intestines. Some-
times the tappen becomes dislodged, and

 

NEWS.

then it is a very hungry and dangerous
bear that wakes up and goes out for a
walk. All bears do not hibernate. The
brown bear only goes to sleep, and is
ready to wake up cross if disturbed. A
cross brown bear, it may be said, is a
very good animal to avoid, for it does
not know what fear is, and has a tre-
mendous mouth.

When snails retire for the winter they
bury themselves in the earth, head up-
ward, and close the mouth of the shell
with a thin wall of shell-like material.
They, too, prepare for retirement by get-
ting fat, and therefore the epicures of
Paris eat snail fricassee only after the
first heavy frost. You may say the
Frenchmen are welcome to their snails,
but really I do not see why they should
not be as good as oysters. A snail has
been known to live in hibernation for
four years, coming to life as cheerfully
as you ought to awake in the morning.

Wonderful stories are told of the length
of time frogs can exist in hibernation. It
is claimed that frogs have been found in
lumps of coal or blocks of granite. If
this were true it would mean that the
frog had been enjoying its living death
for centuries and centuries, My own
opinion, which is worth only as much as
yours, is that the stories are not true.
Some fish hibernate by burying them-
selves deep in the mud, and there is no
doubt that they can exist several years
before coming to life, for ponds that have
been dry for three or four years have been
full of fish when flooded with wager.
Crocodiles also bury themselves in the
mud during the dry season; and a story
is told of a man who, while out shooting,
builé his fire just over one of the sleeping
monsters, and then sat down to cook his
dinner. The heat awoke the reptile, which
at once tried to move away from its warm
quarters, and in doing so carried both
man and fire with it. The man is said to
have been astonished. There is no reason
for doubting it.

When snakes go into winter quarters
they gather together in large numbers in
a cave or large hole, and wind themselves
together in a way which is, no doubt,
very loving, but which to the human eye
is exceedingly unpleasant. It is said that
the bite of a venomous snake, when
awakened from such a sleep, is not pois-
onous.

It may be so, but I am not so sure of it
that I would care to put it to the test. In
hot countries. the poisonous snakes
which retire for the season are as full of
poison as ever.

In the vegetable world something simi-
lar to hibernation goes on, as may be no-
ticed in many familiar plants which die
down in winter and come up again with
renewed: life in spring. And everybody
knows how a grain of wheat taken from
an Egyptian mummy thousands of years
old, was planted and produced wheat,
and in time became a famous brand of
grain.

And man, too, must not be forgotten.
It is not, indeed, common for him to hi-
bernate, but it has been proved that it
can be done, As a rule, however, men
are too much inclined to think life alto-
gether too short to be wasted in hiberna-
tion. It is in India that hibernation is

racticed, and there only by a body of re-

igious ascetics, who have by some means
learned how to doit. To convince some
foreign skeptics that the loss of. life was
not a mere trick, one of the fakirs of the
religious body threw himself into an un-
conscious state and was buried deep in
the ground. A reliable guard was placed
over the spot, and several months later
the body was dug up. It came to life in
good order, and no doubt very triumph-
ant. This might seem a very doubtful
story were it not for the fact that cases of
trance are quite common. The trance is,
of course, not under the control of the
subject, but the fact that there can be
existence where there is seeming death
shows that the story of the fakir is at
least not incredible,

 

Applause.

Yazoo City, Miss.
MEssrs. STREET & SMITH:

Gentlenven: 1 would not exchange Goop News
for any other paper printed to-day. When train
comes in I rush over to the news stand right away
for it, Respectfully yours,

WILLIE JENNE.

0

In November, 1887, the steamships in
commission in England numbered 192,
comprising 28 armor-plated ships, 31
cruisers, 18 sloops, 14 gun vessels, 49 gun-
boats, 4 torpedo boats, 16 special service
boats, 1 torpedo ram, 1 torpedo depot
ship, 2 dispatch vessels, 7 surveying ves-
sels, 5 tenders for coast-guard service, 8
troop and store ships, 4 Indian troop-
ships, and 4 Royal yachts, Sailing ves-
sels numbered 31, and stationary vessels,
45. Total, 258 of all classes. Since then
there have been but one or two additions,

 

Ticklets.

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.

 

Help Wanted.
Ambitious Youth—“1 see you advertise for &
pushing young man. I would like the position.’
Grocer—“‘All right. Here are forty or fifty
orders to deliver. You will find the push cart at
the back door.”

A Modern Theory.

Small Boy—Our history says that during the
reign of Tiberius a man was put to death because
he discovered how to make glass that wouldn’t
break. What did Tiberius do that for ?”

Father (whose family burns kerosene)—I Sup-
pose Tiberius was a manufacturer of lamp chim-
neys.

A Mother’s Eyes.
Mistress—‘‘Do. you like children ?”
Domestic—‘‘Depends a good deal on the children,

mum.”

“Well, yes I presume it does. Where did you
work last ?”

van? h Mrs. Goodheart, mum. She had only one
child.

“Oh, well, if you could stand that horrid little
brat of Mrs. Goodheart’s, 'm sure you will not ob-
ject to my six little darlings.”

The Wrong Animal.
Doctor—“I am thinking of trying an infusion of
goat’s blood on you.”
Patient—“Why, doctor, it’s my lungs that need
strengthening. My digestion is ail right.”

Good as Gold.

Mrs. Hardhead—‘You know Deacon Slick, don’t
you ?”
wee ‘Yes. Llent him $100 some months ago.

hy ? ?

Mrs. H.—‘‘Nothing. I was only going to say
that he was at church to-day and you could hear
his amens all over the building.”

Mr. H.—‘‘l've got good security.”

A Humane Janitor.

Janitor’s Wife (in basement flat)—“Whew! Its
killin’ hot here. Open the windy.”

Janitor (meditatively)—“It’s thoughtless you are
to open the windy when ye know the people in the
flats above has been complainin’ of cold all winter.
Turn th’ heat up stairs.”

Humanity and Hypnotism.

Mr. Upton—‘I don’t believe that story about &
Philadelphia father hypnotizing his baby so thab
it would sleep while he and his wite went to the
theater.”

Mrs, Upton—“Nor I. No father would be brute
enough to think of such a thing.”

Mr. Upton—‘N-o, of course not,”

Downton (the next day)—‘Say ‘Upton did you
hear that story about a Philadelphia tather hyp2®%
tizing his baby?”

Upton—“Yes. 1t isn’t so.”

Downton—‘‘How do you krow ?” ;

Baronet tried it°on mine and it wouldn’t
work.

Simple as A BC.

Prisoner—So you think you can get me off ?”

Lawyer—“Easily enough. I will prove to the
court that you are a lunatic, and you will be sene
to an asylum.”

«But how am I to get out of the asylum ?”

“T will prove to the superintendent that you are
not a lunatic.”

A Suggestion.

Fair Househunter (examining new fiat)—“TM
front room is large enough, but all the other
rooms are small; awfully small.” ti

Agent—‘‘Well, ma’am, you has a perfect righ
to do as you please with’em. The landlord won'l
interfere at all.”

“But what can I do with them ?”

“You might use ’em for closets, ma’am,”

Seven Callers.

Mistress—“Did any one call while I was out?”

New Girl—“‘Yis mum, foive leddies an’ two gil
tlemen.”

Mistress—‘‘Where are their cards ?” ,

New Girl—“There was no need o’ thim lavil
any.”

Mistress—‘‘Why not I should like to know?” ,

New Girl—“‘Oi was at home.”

Mistress—‘‘You ?”

New Girl—“Yis mum, They called on ™@
mum.”

No Yell at Vassar.

First Vassar Student—‘Say, girls, there’s ont
thing we’ve forgotton. We haven't any colleg'
yell. All colleges have yells, you know.” @
Second Student—“Why, of course. Strange W
never thought.of it. Let’s have one.” il

Third Student—But I don’t see how we can yé

”

without taking the gum out of our hs. '
g g mout It 180 t

Fourth Student—‘‘Let’s let the yell go,
very lady-like, anyhow.”

True Politeness. ;
Mr. Staylate—“Y-a-as, I hate those—ah—sim nt
me country people that show everything ¢
eel.”
Miss Westend—“‘It is a mere matter of trainings
One of the first things I was taught was the art,
appearing interested when bored half to death.

A Practical Joke. 2
Tramp—‘You gave me a counterfeit $5 bill afe
moments ago.” nd
Practical Joker—‘‘He! he! he! ho! ho! Fou
it out, eh! {3

“Yes, sir; and, on my information, an officer ay
now looking for you. Gim’me $5 in good mon
ang Til throw ’em off the track. Thanks.
al”

The Wise Tramp. 4

Tranip—-"Piswbe, ma’am, couldn't you spare ™
a little——” '

Housekeeper—'‘Go right away from here, OF ri
call the dog, you lazy, dirty——” ark:

“Yes, ma’am, that’s what I was about torem
I'm travel-stained from my long journey, ametle
wanted to ask if you couldn’t spare me & i
soap.”

“Soap? Soap? Mercy on me! Js the wee
coming toan end? Walk right in, sir, and stay
dinner, You're more than welcome,”

\

tee 2

 

 

“aa
 

 

 

GoonDypD

 

=~

NEWS. 745

 

[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.)

FRANK AND FEARLESS ;

FORTUNES OF JASPER KENT.

BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.

- Author of “Grit,” “Only an Irish Boy,” “Ragged

Dick,” “Fame and Fortune,” ‘Sink or Swim,”
“Tattered ‘'om,” ‘‘Brave and Bold,” etc.

°

 

 

[“FRANEK AND FEARLESS” was commenced last week.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

—_—o

CHAPTER XIV.
MEDIATION.

ye HEN Jasper left the house he
Wy bent his steps to the dwelling
<2)

 

of afriend of his father, Otis
Miller, a man of considerable
peoPert and good position. He found
r. Miller at home. :
“T am glad to see you, Jasper,” said he,
cordially.

 

“Thank you,’ sir.
— do so, as I don’t want to act too

astily.”

“T will go at once,
here till I return?”

“Thank you, sir.”

When Mrs. Kent was told that Mr.
Miller had called to see her, she went
down to meet him, not surmising his er-
rand.

“Mrs. Kent,” said he, after the ordin-
ary greetings were over, “I have called
with reference to your relations to your
late husband’s son, Jasper.”

“Did he ask you to come?” demanded
Mrs. Kent, frowning.

“No, but he came to ask my advice as
to what he ought to do. I am sorry to
hear that you are unfriendly.”

Will you remain

“He has treated me with intolerable} turn him to school.

insolence,” said Mrs. Kent,
“That surprises me.

hotly.

Mr. Miller, quietly.
“Then you don’t know him as he is.”

“He tells me you have accorded your said Mrs. Kent, coldly.

own son superior privileges.”
“ 2 ”
My son treats me with respect.

I should like to have [

+og-?

“Do you think, Mrs. Kent, that you
have any right to deprive him of the op-
portunity to obtain an education?”

“He can attend school in this village,”
said Mrs. Kent.

“You know as well as I that there is

“You are not over-polite, sir,” said Mrs.
Kent, angrily.

“T am truthful, madam,” was the grave
reply.

nd

CHAPTER XV.

neither a classical nor high school here. GOOD-BY.
He would be compelled to give up the |
course of study upon which he has com- ITHOUT exception, Jasper,”

menced.”

“That is his own fault,” returned Mrs.
Kent, doggedly.

“This, then, is your unalterable deter-
mination?”

“For the present, yes. If Jasper repents
his ill-conduct, and makes up his mind

x said Mr. Miller, on his return,

‘A / “T consider your step-mother

J] the most disagreeable woman
I ever met.”

Jasper could not help smiling at the
look of disgust upon the features of his
father’s friend.

 

It is wholly con-.!
trary to his reputation with those who the woman’s manner, “do
have known him from his infancy,” said that you are carrying out his father’s |

to yield me that implicit obedience which
is my due, I may hereafter consent to re-
But he must turn

“Then, sir, I infer that you did not suc-
ceed in your mission?” he said.

“Succeed? No. She will offer no terms
over a new leaf.” except unconditional submission on your

“Madam.” said Mr. Miller, disgusted at | part.”
you consider| “That I won’t agree to,” said Jasper,
promptly.

“I don’t blame you—not a particle,”
said Mr. Miller.

“So much is settled, then,” said Jas-
per. “Now the question comes up—what
am I to do?”

“How old are you?”

wishes in reference to his son?”

“That is a question for me to decide,”
“TI have under-
taken the responsibility, and I have no
fears about carrying out his wishes. I
must trust

 

“Thank you, sir.”

“You ‘have met with a

reat loss,” said Mr. Mil-

er, attributing Jasper’s
serious expression to his
father’s death.

“Yes, sir; I am only
just beginning to under
stand how much.”

“A father’s place can-
not be supplied.”

“No, sir; but this is not
the extent of my trouble.”

“Can I do anything to
help you?”

“Yes, sir. I am _ very
much in need of advice.”

“T shall be glad to give

ou the best I can, Jasper.

was your father’s
friend, and I shall be glad
to be yours also.”

“Thank you, sir. My
troubles are connected
with my step-mother, who
treats me like an enemy*”

“Can this be so?” asked
Mr. Miller, in surprise.

“T will tell you all, an
then ask your advice.”

Jasper told the story
briefly, and with out ex-
citement. It was only in
his step-mother’s presence
that he felt disturbed.

“T have met your step-
mother, but I know very
little of her,” said Mr.
Miller. “She never im-
Pressed me very_ favor-
ably, but I never dreamed
that she would act in such
an unreasonable manner.
Perhaps even now matters
are not as bad as you
think. Sometimes people
Say things in anger which
they repent of in their
cooler moments.”

“T don’t think this is
the case with Mrs. Kent.”

“It is unfortunate, since she
is your guardian.”

“TI wish you were my guardian,

Mr, Miller.”

“For your sake, Jasper, I wish I were.
I don’t think we should quarrel.”

“T know we should not.”

“You wish to know what to do?”

 

“You are quite sure you cannot stay at

Ome?”

“T should be subject to constant perse-
cution from Mrs. Kent.”

“You think she will not allow you to
80 back to school?”

“She has refused to do so.”

“There is one thing she cannot do, and
that is, keep your portion of the estate

rom you when you become of age.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“You will then be rich.”

“But the money won't do me any good
now, will it?”

“In this way it will. Suppose I agree
to pay your expenses at school—that is to
Say, advancing the money, to be repaid
When you obtain yours?”

“That would be very kind, Mr. Miller;
but I shouldn’t like to subject you to
that risk.”
~ “You mean that a minor’s promise
Would be invalid? Well, Jasper, I have
too much confidence in you to have any
doubt of your integrity.”

“Thank you, Mr. Miller; but suppose I
Bhculd die before attaining my majority?”
“Then I should probably lose the
‘Money. ”

_ “That is what I thought of. I should
Not like to have you run the risk.”

,, But Iam willing to do so. However,
it may be as well to ascertain definitely
your step-mother’s intentions first. I will
te upon her in your interest, and find

 

ih

ie’

ff ‘
>
~~ 4 2Y
;

y

“Prob-
ably you
treat him
differently
from Jas-
per. ”

“T have reason to.”

“You will admit that it is aggravating; Kent, with a sneer.

to see a stranger—an intruder, I may say
—preferred to him in his own home?”

“Who calls my son an intruder?” asked
Mrs. Kent, hastily.

       
    
    
  
  
  
 
    
    
  
   
  
   
   
 
 

SS
Vit

I . *D) g
A:
tes

‘“"T MEANS,” SAID JASPER, “THAT I AM GOING FROM HOME!”

G my own judg-| “Nearly sixteen.”

; f 4 Tze Ke
wal FZ Bg ment,notthat| “Then five years must elapse before
a WZ { of others.” you come into possession of your prop-
PLES TN CES “Madam,” |erty?”
ih LOK Sey said Mr. Mil-| “Yes, sir.”
i gee “gy ier, after a} “And for that length of time you are to
ause, “there | be under’the guardianship of Mrs. Kent?”

Sas. -sir.”

“Tt is unfortunate,” said the old gentle-
man, shrugging his shoulders: “I took
the liberty to suggest to your step-mother
ithat if the cares of a guardian should

a prove burdensome to her,
WF I would assume them.”
<e,
f

is one other
question
which I
should like to
put to you.”

; Wy
|

 

 

 

“What did she say?”

“She replied in a sar-
castic manner, and avow-
ed her determination to
remain your guardian,”

“What would you ad-
vise me to do, then, Mr.
Miller?”

“Before answering, Jas-
per, I will tell you a se-
cret.”

Jasper looked curious.

“Your father left in my
hands a paper to be
openedtwo yéars after his
death. It undoubtedly re-
lates to you.”

: a do you think it
is ”

“It may relate to the
guardianship, but that is
only conjecture.”

“Does my step-mother
know of this?”

“Neither she nor any one
else, save you and myself.”

“It will do us no good
at present.”

“No; but

  

Y
i]

 

 

it influences
my advice. Go to school
for the next two years. I
will advance the money to
pay our bills. If at the
end of that time the paper
is what I hope it is, you
will then be able to pay
me, and for the balance of
your minority I can become your guar-
dian.”

“TI wish you might, Mr. Miller; but I
don’t think, under the circumstances, I
want to go back to school.”

“What do you wish to do, Jasper?”

“I am young, and I would like to see
something of the world. I would like
to imagine myself a poor boy, as I really
am just now, and see if I cannot make
my own way.”
it to anoth-| “I hardly know what to say to that,
er?” i Jasper. Iam afraid you do not appreci-
‘ate the difficulties in your <7
| “To battle against them will make me

“T should be willing to undertake it strong.” : E
for Jasper’s sake.” “Suppose you get in a tight place?’

“T have no doubt “Then I will write to you for help.”
“That’s better. On this condition, I

  

‘ee

oe Very well,
sir.”

“This guar-
dianship im-
posed upon
you is a cer-
tain amount
of care. Are
you willing
to relinquish

“To you, perhaps?” .suggested Mrs.

ce would, and I pre-

sume Jasper would be very glad to have

“Let us call him a stranger, then. Was! you do so.” will make no further opposition to your

Mr. Kent aware that you had a son?”

“T decline to answer your question,” an-
swered Mrs. Kent, with asperity.

“To pass on, then. Have you refused
Jasper permission.to return to the school
at which his father placed him?”

“T have.”

“May I ask why?”

“T don’t know that I am responsible to

ou.”

; “Mrs. Kent,” said Mr. Miller, gravely,
“T was the friend of your late husband.
Iam the friend of his son, Jasper. As
the friend of both, [ask you your reason.”

“Y will answer you, though I do not
acknowledge your right to ask, I refuse
to let Jasper go back to school, because I

wish to punish him for his insdlence and |,

disobedience.” 5

“Tt cannot be any satisfaction to you to
have him at home, I should think,’

“It is not. I have no reason to like his
society.” :

“Then it appears that you punish your-
self in keeping him here,”

 

 

“I think he would, though he didn’t L
authorize me to speak to you about it,”| “Ten dollars.’ :
said Mr. Miller. “Rather a small sum to begin the world
“Then, sir, I refuse in the most em-j with.” | 4
phatic terms. I shall not relinquish the; “Yes, sir. If you are willing to lend
power which his father’s will gives me me fifty more I think I can get along till
over him. He shall yet repent his in-; I can earn some.’
solence.” “Willingly. Where do you propose to
“I regret your animosity, Mrs. Kent,” go?”
said Mr. Miller, with dignity, rising as| “To the West. My father has a cousin
he spoke. “I was inclined to think that —a lady, married, and living in a small
Jasper had exaggerated his account of town on the banks of the Mississippi. I
the difficulties. I see now that he was. have never been to the West. I should
correct. I have only, in wishing you like to go out there and see if I can’t find
good-morning, to predict that you will some employment in that neighborhood.”
et regret the manner in which you | “T suppose I must not object, but
ashe treated your step-son.” __ your plan appears to me rather quixotic.”
“T will take my chance of that,” said “You might not have thought so at my

wishes. But have you any money?”

Mrs. Kent. “You may report to Jasper age, Mr. Miller.”
that my only terms are unconditional, “No; we look upon such_things dif-
submission.” erently as we grow older. When do you

“T will do so, madam; but you know as want to start?”
well as I what his answer will be. His; “To-morrow.”
nature is too manly to submit totyranny,| “Stay at my house till then.”
even from his step-mother,” “Thank you, sir. I will go home this

 
         
   
  
     
   
   
    
   
   
     
  
    
   
   
    
    
 
  
  
  
  
   
    
     
   
    
   
   
     
     
     
  
    
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
 
  
    
    
  
    
  
   

 

746

GOOD

  

NEW Ss.

sameness

 

afternoon and get my carpet-bag and a
few underclothes, and then I shall be
ready to start to-morrow. morning.”

Jasper did as proposed. He . would
gladly have dispensed with this call at

the house which had once been a home to
him, but was so no longer; but it was
necessary to make it.

He caught sight of Tom Forbes near the
house.

“Tom,” he called out, “do you know if
Mrs. Kent is at home?”

“No, Master Jasper, she went oat ‘rid-
ing, and her cub went with her.”

“T am afraid you’re not respectful,
Tom,” said Jasper, laughing.

“He don’t deserve respect. He puts on
as many airs as a prince. I warrant he
was poor enough before his mother took
him home. Whatdo you think he said
to me?”

“What was it?”

“ ‘Took here, Tom, you harness the
horse right up, do you hear? Don’t stand
dawdling there, for I and mother are
going out to ride.’ ”

“That sounds like Nicholas.”

“You may be sure he ain’t used to
prosperity, or he wouldn’t put on so
many airs!”

“Well, Tom, I’m glad Mrs. Kent is
out. I don't want to meet ‘her, nor
Nicholas either.”

“You’ll see ’em at supper, won’t you?”

“No; I shall not be here to supper,”

“When are you coming back?”

“Not at all.”

“You don’t mean that, Master Jasper?”

“Wes, I do.”

“Are you going to school?”

“No l’m going out’ West.”

“Out West?” exclaimed Tom Forbes,
stopping work in surprise.

“Yes, Tom, I’m going out there to
seek my fortune.”

“But there ain’t any need of that,
Master Jasper.’ Didn’t your father leave
you a fortune?”

“I’m not to have it till I’m twenty-
one, and till then my step-mother is my
guardian. Now I put it to you, Tom, can
I stay at home to be treated as you saw
me treated this morning?”

“No you can’t, that’s a fact. Master
Jasper, I wish you’d take me with you
as your servant.”

“As to that, Tom, Tam in no position
to have a servant, [’ve got to work for
my own living.”

“ And she here living on the fat of the
land!” exclaimed ‘Tom, indignantly.
“Tt’s an outrageous shame.”

“Strong ianguage, Tom,” said Jasper,
smiling. “Mind my amiable step-mother
doesn’t. hear you.”

“T don’t care if she does.”

“Thank you for. your offer, Tom, but I
must go alone. Perhaps I shall prosper
out there. I hope so, at any rate.’

“Have you got any money, Master Jas-
per. I’ve got afew dollars laid by. If
they’ll do you any good, you're welcome
to take ’em. Isha’n’t need ’em.” .

“Thank you, Tom,” said Jasper, cor-
dially grasping his toil-embrowned hand,
“but I am well provided for. Mr. Miller,
my father’s friend, is mine, too. He has
lent me some money, and will lend me
more if I need it.”

“T’m glad of that. You’ll always find
friends.”

Half an hour later, as Jasper was going |
up the street, with his carpet-bag in one |
hand, he saw the open carriage in which
Mrs. Kent and Nicholas were seated ap-
proaching. He would like to have escaped
observation, but there was no chance.

“Why, there’s Jasper!” said Nicholas,
“and he’s got a carpet-bag in his hand.”

“Stop the carriage!” satd Mrs. Kent,
peremptorily.

Nicholas, who was driving, obeyed.

“Have you ‘been to the house?” asked
the step-mother.

“Yes,” said Jasper.

“What does that carpet-bag mean?”

“Tt means that I am going away.”

“Where? ‘As your guardian, I demand
to know?”

“As my guardian, will you provide for
my expenses?” :

‘ ”

“Then I don’t feel called upon to tell

ou.”
ms You will repent this insubordination,”
said. Mrs. Kent, angrily. “You will yet
return home in rags.”

“Never!” answered Jasper, with, em-
phasis. “Good-afternoon, Mrs. Kent.”

“Drive on, Nicholas,” said Mrs. Kent,
angrily. “How I hate that boy!” she
ejaculated,

“Tt strikes me, mother, you’ve got the
best of'it,” said Nicholas. “You’ve got
his property, and as to his company, we
can do without that.”

 

CHAPTER XVI.
AN UNPLEASANT ADVENTURE.

cinnati, a day or so at each place: “He

| gratitied his desire to see the great cata-
| ract, and felt repaid for doing so, though
| the two stops trenched formidably: upon
| his small capital. Indeed, at the moment
when he is introduced anew to. the read-
er’s notice, he had but ten dollars re-
maining of the sum with which he
started. He’ was, however, provided be-
sides with a through ticket to St. Louis,

He had been sitting alone, whenia
stranger entering the car seated himself
in the vacant seat.

Looking up Jasper noticed that he was
a tall man, shabbily dressed, with thin,
sallow face, and. a swelling in the left
cheek, probably produced by a quid of
tobacco.

“Good-mornin’, colonel,” said the
stranger, sociably.

“Good-morning, sir,” said Jasper, smil-
ing. “I haven’t the honor of being a
colonel.

“Haven’t you, cap’n? Well, that ‘ain’t
of no account. It'll come in time, -Where
are you traveling?”

“To St. Louis.”

“Ever been there afore?”

“No; this will be my first visit.”

“You don’t say! Where may you be
from?”

“From New York State,” answered Jas-
per, amused.

The. stranger drew from his pocket a
package of chewing tobacco, and passed
it politely to Jasper.

“Help : yourself, colonel,” he said, hos-
pitably.

“No, thank you; I don’t chew.”

“Shoo, you don’t say so! High time
you began, then.”

“T don’t think I shall ever form the
habit of chewing.”

“Yes, you will, colonel; everybody
does. ‘Travelin’ on business?”

“Well, not exactly,” said Jasper, hesi-
tatingly. “That is, I am looking fora
chance to go into business.”

“Got any capital?” interjected the
stranger, carelessly, squirting a yellow
stream upon the floor of the car.

“Oh, I don’t expect to go into busi-
ness for myself at present,” said Jasper,
amused at the thought.

“No?” said the other, reflectively. “If
you had five thousand dollars I might
take you into partnership.”

“What is your business?” asked Jasper,
with curiosity,

“Cotton,” said the stranger. “I’m a
cotton broker. I do a large business.”
“You don’t look like it,” thought Jas-
per, looking at his shabby costume.

“You don’t want a clerk, do you?”
asked our hero.

“Well, no, colonel, There ain’t any
vacancy in my establishment. May be
soon.”

Had Jasper felt favorably impressed
with his companion, he would have in-
quired where in the city his place of busi-
ness might be, but it did not strike him
that he should care to be in his employ.
He accordingly pulled out a copy of a
popular magazine which he had bought
the day before, and began to read. The
stranger bought a paper of the trainboy,
and engaged in a similar way. Fifteen
minutes passed in this way. At the end
of that time the stranger rose leisurely,
and with a brief “mornin’, colonel,”’
passed out of the car. Whether he got
into the next one, or got out at the sta-
tion which they were approaching Jasper
could not distinguish, nor did he feel
specially interested in the matter.

The time soon came when he felt his
interest increased.

A. few miles farther on, the conductor
entered the car.

It was one of his usual rounds to look
at. tickets.

When he came up to Jasper, he said:
“Be lively now. Let mesee your ticket.”
“TIsn’t.it in my hat?” asked Jasper, tak-
ing it off.

“No; did you put it there?”

“T thought I did,” said our hero, sur-
prised. “It. was there when you last
passed round.”

“Look in your pockets.”

Jasper felt. in all of them, but the miss-
ing ticket could not be found.

“It may have fallen on the floor,” he
said, and rising he looked under the seat.
But in vain.

“Did you have any ticket,” asked the
conductor, suspiciously.

“Certainly. You have looked at_ it
yourself several times.”

“You are mistaken, I got on at the last
station.”

“T have come all the way from Cincin-
nati,” said Jasper, uncomfortably. “TI
couldn’t have come so far without a
ticket. What shall I do?”

“You'll have to pay from the last sta-
tion to St. Louis?”

This was not very agreeable in the state
of Jasper’s finances. ‘

 

WEEK later Jasper was one of
the passengers on a,train bound

 

_ for St. Louis, and already within] a, new surprise awaited him.
<> sixty miles of that flourishing city. | of consternation swept over his counte-
He had stopped over at Niagara and Cin- |! nance,

“How much is it?” he asked.

“Two dollars.”

Jasper felt for his pocket-book, when
A. look

His pocket-book was gone.

ductor, impatiently.

“My pocket-book.is gone,” exclaimed
our hero, gazing in blank dismay at the
expectant official.

“What?”

“T can’t find my pocket-book.”

“Look here, young man,” said the con-
ductor, roughly, “that’s too thin.”

“It’s. true!” said Jasper.

“It won’t go down, young man. I’ve
seen such customers as you before. You’re
a beat!”

“A what?”

“A beat—a dead beat, if you. prefer it.
Off you go. at the next station.”

Jasper was greatly alarmed at the un-
expected turn affairs had taken,

“Let me: go to St..Louis, and I'll get
money and pay you.”

“It’s no use,” said the conductor, in-
exorably. “My orders are strict. If you
can’t pay, you can’t ride.”

_ “But my pocket . was picked,” said
Jasper, new light flashing upon him.
“There was a stranger who:sat beside me
a while ago. He must’ have taken my
ticket and money, too.”

“Of course there was,” said the con-
ductor, with sarcasm. “That’s the way
it usually happens. I’m used to such
games, young man. It won’t do you any
good. Out you go!”

“Let me go through the cars, and see if
I can’t find the man that robbed me. I’d
know him in a miunte.”

“Well,” said the conductor, relenting
slightly. “Be quick about it.”

Jasper waited for no more. He rose
from his seat, and, carpet-bag in hand,
passed into the next car.

It proved to be the smoking-car.

Groups of men were playing cards, and
as Jasper judged, were playing for money.
Among them, to his great joy, he recog-
nized his shabby companion, as the cot-
ton broker, of St. Louis. The latter was
playing with three other men, black
bearded, and loud both in their dress and
speech.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jasper
advanced and touched his late companion
on the shoulder.

The latter looked up, and without a
sign of recognition said:

-“What’s wanted, sir?”

For the first time, it struck Jasper that
his errand was rather an awkward one,
How could he ask this man if he had
taken his property?

“{ beg your pardon, sir,” said he; “but
did you see anything of my ticket and
money #”

“What do you mean, stranger?”

“You were sitting by mea little while
ago, in the rear car.”

“T don't remember it.”
“And I thought you might have seen
my Se and ticket.”

“Well, I didn’t,” said the _ other,
fiercely. “What made you think I did?”
“T. can’t find them.”

“T don’t know anything about them,
General, it’s your deal.”

He turned abruptly away from Jasper,
and the boy slowly withdrew to a little
distance, sorely puzzled. On the one hand,
he felt convinced that this man had ab-
stracted his ticket and money. On the
other, he. doubted whether it would be
safe to charge him with it.

While he was hesitating the cars began
to go more slowly.

The conductor entered the car.

“Have you found your ticket?” he asked.

“Then leave the train at this next stop-
ping-place.”

Jasper had no chance to remonstrate.
Obeying necessity, he stepped upon the
platform, and the train swept on,

(80 BE CONTINUED.)

—>— 0»
PHOTO-ENGRAVING.

The process by which the pictures for
newspapers are produced is the following:
The artist completes his finished drawing
on, cardboard in pen and ink. This is
then pinned upon a_board in front of the
camera in a strong light (either sun or
electric light) and photographed to the
size required. From the negative photo-
graph on glass a print is made upon a
zine plate by means of a chemical prepara-
tion, the drawing appearing now the. re-
verse of the original. When this print on
the prepared zinc plate has been obtained,
ink rollers are passed over it, and owing
to some. chemical difference (known to
the trade only) between the printed and
the unprinted surface of the plate, the
ink adheres to the printed line, but not
to the other parts of the plate. At this
stage a proof is pulled, and the plate is
placed in a bath of strong nitric acid. The
plate is then attacked by the acid in those
parts not covered by ink. In the course
of an hour or two it is etched to the
depth of, say, one-sixteenth of an inch,
leaving all the lines of the drawing in
relief, they having been protected from
the acid by the covering of ink which has

 

 

“Don’t keep me waiting;” said the con-

White-Horse Fred;

By HARRY CASTLEMON,

Author of ‘<A Sailor in Spite of Himself,” «True to
his Colors,” ‘Frank, the Young Naturalist, |
“Frank in the “Woods,” ‘lhe Steel Horse,
«Frank on the Mountains,” ‘Phe Rod and Gua
Club,” “Snowed Up,” ‘Guy Harris,” etc.

(“Wurre-HorsE Frep” was commenced in No. 36

Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.J

CHAPTER XXV.
HOW IT RESULTED.

Fya7 HEN Pedro took charge off Juli-
Y\\/5 an’s horse he did not lead) him
directly to the stable, but to the

back part of the house, where
he left him until he could run into the
kitchen and procure another lanterl-
When he came out again he made @ thor:
ough examination of the animal, a2
having at last satisfied himself that he
made no mistake, he ran into the house
and pounded loudly upon the door 2
Unele Reginald’s bed-room, The sul-
mons quickly brought that gentleman 0
his feet, and when the numerous bolts
and locks had been undone, Pedro pushed
open the door and entered without cere
mony. The excitement and alarm de-
picted upon his features must have bee?
contagious, for no: sooner did Mr. Mor-
timer glance at his face than his own 48-
sumed a very anxious look. ‘

“Did Julian ride Snowdrop away this
morning, or did I dream it ?” asked
Beg, before he was fairly’ inside the

oor.

“You did not dream it,” was the reply,
“He did. Why do you ask the question!

“Because here’s the very mischief t@
pay. I told you just how it would be if
you turned that boy loose to run about the
country like a wild colt, I shouldn’t be
surprised if your little game was brought
to an end in less than twenty-four hours:

“What do you mean?” cried Uncle
Reginald, in alarm. “Speak out plainly,

“IT mean that if Julian rode Snowdrop
away he has brought Bob back—thats
what I mean.”

Pedro’s employer was. utterly con-
founded by this intelligence. His under
jaw dropped down, and he looked at his
companion without saying a word. j
“It is the truth?” continued the Mex!
can. “Now where did he leave Snow:
drop, and where did he get Bob? Hither
at Smirker’s or at the other place; 40°
ap oe has been thgre, it proves some

ing.” f

“It does, indeed,” cried Reginald Mo
timer, turning white to the lips. b
proves that some of my trusted men ar
turned against me; for he could neve
have gained admittance to either plas
except through treachery. I must ta f
to him, and see if he has learned 407
thing he ought not to know.” hes
Uncle Reginald threw on his clot i
with all possible haste, and hurried alone
the hall to Julian’s room. e do d
opened when he turned the knob, woes
entering without attracting the boy ® te
tention, he found him_in the act of ree
ing a letter. When Uncle Reginald anne
the letter all, his worst suspicions rad
confirmed. He knew where Julian He
been, and he knew, too, by whom t it
missive had been written, and what ..
contained. Approaching the boy § pa
with acat-like tread, he leaned over Ke
shoulder and made an attempt to fe:
the paper out of his hand; but Julia® He
tected the move in time to defeat it. the
sprang to his feet, and for a moment en
two stood holding the letter bety tke
them, and glaring at one another nd
wild beasts at bay. Uncle Reginald we
astonished at the look of defiance an ere
termination he saw in the eyes that "7
fastened upon him. It taught him we
thing of the spirit of the youth W
whom he had to deal.

“Julian,” said he, in a. tone

which be intended should frighten f have

into obedience to his commands, I

a good deal tosay to you; but, 1»

first place, give me that letter.’ life,”
eT yore as readily give you my /"

was the prompt reply. i-

“Tet go. I tell you,” said Uncle Reel
nald, in astill sterner voice, makin ers
vain effort to unclasp the sinewy finge;
that were closed upon the letter. ther.

“Let go yourself. It is from my te euve,
I bere more right to it than you
an will not let go.” e

“T am your guardian, Julian, and nat
the right to control you, as yo" not
aniokly learn to your,cost, if you 4°
obey me,” , he
“I don’t care if you were the King of
Sandwich Islands, you sha’n’t bee are?
letter. I don’t believe you are My ey me
ian. You have done nothing but te el

 

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747

 

have been here. You said my father was
dead, and. he isn't. He is alive, and I
have seen him—seen him, too, in prison
and chained to the floor. You say you
are my uncle, and you are not. You have
no more right to the name you bear than
your Mexican servant has—not a bit.”

“Who told you all this?” asked Uncle
Reginald, making a strong effort to keep
back the tempest of passion which-was
almost ready to break forth.

“Your man Smirker. I am going to
have him arrested as soon as I can go to
the fort. He killed a miner and stole his
money; he told me so.”

“He told you so!” repeated Reginald
Mortimer.

“Yes.. He mistook. me for a rascally
‘accomplice of his—White-horse Fred.”

“Did Smirker introduce*you into Hale’s
ranch—I mean the place where you saw
ithis prisoner?”

“No,.. The horse he gave me in ex-
change for mine introduced me there.”

“Well, goon. What else do you know?”

“T know you had better let go this let-
er instantly; for if. you don’t——”

Julian finished the sentence by placing
his hand upon the butt of his revolver;
but before he could draw it from his belt
Reginald Mortimer released his hold upon
the letter, and, bounding forward, seized
the boy by the throat, and attempted to
throw him to the floor.

Julian was neither surprised nor fright-
ened. He retained his presence of mind.
. His first thought was not of defense but
of the letter; and having secured that by
thrusting it into his bosom he was ready
for the struggle. How the contest would
have ended if he had been left to himself
it is hard to tell; but help was close at
hand. The hangings at the foot of the
bed were thrust cautiously aside, and a
pair of eyes appeared and looked into the
room. They watched the combatants a
moment and then disappeared, and short-
ly afterward the hangings were again
raised and three figures sprang from be-
hind them. The foremost was Silas
Roper; close at his heels followed the
strange horseman whom Julian had met
at Smirker’s cabin; and the rear was
brought up by the feeble old man, who,
by simply walking across the cellar the
night before, had saved our hero from
being carried. away captive by Richard
Mortimer.

At this moment the door through which
Uncle Reginald had entered was cauti-
ously opened, and another head was
thrust into the room. It was the head of
Pedro, the Mexican, who, after just one
glance at what was going on inside the
apartment, drew back out of sight.

“The jig is danced at last,” said he to
himself, as he ran along the hall, “and
those of us who are found in these parts
in the morning will be called upon to
settle with the fiddler. It is nothing more
' than I expected, but I know how to block
this little game.”

Pedro went straight to the stable, led
out the horse Julian had brought there a
short time before, and springing upon his
back, rode off toward the mountains.

Silas and his friends had come into that
room on business, and their actions indi-
cated that they were disposed to waste
ho time in carrying it out. The trapper
walked straight up to Reginald-Mortimer,
and seizing him by the collar and tearing
his hand from the boy’s throat, threw
him at full length on the floor. Julian
staggered to his feet as soon as he was
relieved of the weight of his antagonist,
to find a pair of strong arms clasped
about his neck, and to hear himself ad-
dressed in terms of endearment, to which
he listened like one in adream. Then
he felt himself forced into a chair, and
knew that Silas came up and shook hands
with him, and that he was followed by
the feeble old_ man, who said something
that was doubtless intended for a wel-
tome; but Julian’s mind wasin such a
whirl of excitement that he could not
understand a word he uttered.

“What's the matter with you, any-
how?” asked White-horse Fred, bringing
his hand down upon Julian’s shoulder
with a force that fairly made the boy’s
teeth rattle. “Can't you say you are glad

O see me, or are you above owning a
peesher who belongs toa band of rob-
ers ”

“Let me collect my thoughts a little,
and then I will talk to you,” replied
pavian. “IT can’t quite understand all

alg

“And there’s another as much in the
dark as you are,” said Fred, pointing to

eginald Mortimer. “You perhaps im-
agine you are dreaming, and I know he
Wishes he was, don’t you, captain? There
are two of us here whom you never ex-
Pected to see in the flesh again; ‘are there
not? Take your time, Julian, and think
the matter over, and while you are about
it I will look around and pack up a few
articles that may be of use to you, for we
are going to find new quarters for you
now, ”

Julian settled back in a chair and gazed
long and earnestly at all the persons in
the room—at the old Mexican who stood

  

 

   

at his side leaning upon his staff; at
Silas, sitting upon his bed and smiling
complacently at him as if he enjoyed his
bewilderment ; at Reginald Mortimer,
lying bound and helpless on the floor,
and who, like Julian, was almost over-
whelmed with astonishment; and then at
his brother, who was skipping about the
room, Overhauling the bureau, wardrobe,
and book-case, now and then depositing
some articles which he took from them
upon a blanket he had spread on the floor.

“My brother!” said Julian, aloud,
“How strangely it sounds.”

“Doesn’t it!” replied Fred, pausing in
his work and looking over his shoulder at
Julian... “Butit is the truth. I don’t
know what you think about it, but I am
delighted to claim the relationship. A
brother is something worth having out
here in this wilderness, I tell you.”

“What is your name?” asked Julian.

“Fred— W hite-horse Fred, if it suits you
better—sworn agent for a band of outlaws
and rascals of which our worthy uncle
here is the acknowledged leader. Any
objection to my company?”

“Then you are not dead?”

“Do [ look like it?”

“And you are not Julian Mortimer?”

“By. no means. How could I be when
you are that lucky individual?”

“Then why did you tell Smirker so?”

“To help. you out of a scrape,” replied
Fred, picking up the bundle he had made
and throwing it over his shoulder. “But
I say, Julian,” he added, a shade of
anxiety overspreading his merry counte-
nance, “of course, you are not aware of
the fact, but you have jeopardized the
life of one who is very dear. to both of us
by getting iuto this fuss with Uncle
Reginald.’

“How?” asked Julian.

“Why, our father has been a prisoner
in the hands of the band of which Iam a
member for eight years, and if anything
happens to the captain—Uncle Reginald
—his jailors have orders. to shoot him as
soon as word comes to their ears.”

“The news is on the way to them now;”
said the robber chief with savage em-
phasis, “and he will be shot before day-
light. Pedro is already on his road to
the mountains.”

“Who sent him?’ demanded White-
horse Fred.

“T expect he. sent himself,” cried
Julian, starting from his chair in. great
excitement. “I saw him put his head in
at the door just as you came in. We
must be off at once.”

“But where will we go, and what shall
we do?” asked Fred. “We don’t know
where father is; if we did, we should
have released him before this time.”

“Well, I know where he is, and I have
seen him. More than that, I’ve got a
letter from him.”

“Hold hard thar!” exclaimed. Silas, as
Julian drew the letter from his pocket,
and moved nearer the candle. “Don’t
read a word of. it. here, for thar’s no
knowin’ how many pairs of ears thar
may be listenin’ to it, Come with us,
an’ we will talk this matter over.”

Julian had never seen three persons
more excited than the trapper and his
companions were over the announcement
he had just made. It did not take the
form of words, but showed itself in their
countenances, and in their hurried, ner-
vous actions. They prepared to leave the
room at once. Silas raised the captive
robber to*his shoulder as if he had been a
sack of flour, while the old Mexican skip-
ped before him like a boy of sixteen, and
held up the hangings which concealed the
entrance to the -secret passage - way.
White-horse Fred, who had looked into
the muzzle of Smirker’s revolver without
flinching or even changing color, was pale
enough now, and the hand with which
he extended Julian’s sombrero to him now
trembled like a leaf. They left the room
without saying a word, and followed Silas,
who led the way along the passage to the
cellar, where they found aman with a
lantern waiting for them. It was Romez,
the hostler. He was greatly astonished
to see the trapper carrying Reginald
Mortimer on his shoulder, but without
asking any questions
mounted a ladder which rested against
the wall of the cellar.

While Julian was going up he had leis-
ure to make an examination of the store-
house. It was a natural cave in the
mountain, and seemed to have no roof—
at least. there was none that could be
seen. The wall against which the ladder
was placed arose to the height of thirty
feet, as smooth and perpendicular as if it
had been fashioned by the band of man,
and. terminated ina broad, level plat-
form. When the party stepped upon this
platform they paused until Romez. had
drawn up the ladder, and then mounted
to asecond ledge of rock higher up the
cavern. The ladder was again drawn up,
and the journey resumed along a narrow,
slippery path, that finally ended in a
dark opening, which proved to be the
mouth of a smaller cave,

The interior of this cavern presented a
scene which filled Julian with astonish-

he turned and‘

 

   

ment. Almost the first object his eyes
rested upon was Smirker’s burly form
stretched out on a little pallet in one cor-
ner. He was securely bound, and did not
look much now like the reckless desper-
ado he had appeared when Julian first
met himin his cabin. But the presence
of this man did not occasion him so much
astonishment as the sight of the gold
that was scattered about the room. He
saw it there in all shapes—in dust, nug-
gets, quartz, and coin. It was stowed
away in chests, tied up in little bags,
and packed up on shelves and piled in
corners as if it had been merchandise of
some description. Julian had never
dreamed that ail the gold mines of Cali-
fornia could produce as much of the preci-
ous metal as he saw collected in that one
small room. The cave was also used as @
receptacle for various odds and ends—
rifles, revolvers, muskets, hunting-
knives, saddles, and bridles. As Julian
glanced about him he told himself that
he knew now what had become of some
of the articles Uncle Reginald had missed
from his ranch.

“During your travels to-day did you
hear Smirker or anybody else say any-
thing about some hidden treasure which
he hoped to handle some day?” asked
White-horse Fred.

Julian replied that he did.

“Well, here itis. This is the cause of
all our trouble. If it hadn’t been for
these yellow boys we might have been a
united, happy family to-day.”

“T don’t reckon it’ll be very long afore
we’re all together agin like we used to
be,” said Silas, as he deposited his pris-
oner upon the pallet beside the other. “If
the major is where we can get at him
we’ll have him out this very night. How
did you find him, Julian?”

“Smirker gave mea horse in exchange
for mine that took me straight to his
prison,” replied the boy. And. then he
went on to relate, in afew rapid words,
how his curiosity had led him to walk
about the ranch, and that while on his
way to the kitchen he had found the
prisoner. He described, too, how nar-
rowly he had escaped discovery by the
Mexican when he came in to remove the
supper dishes, and told what had passed
between Uncle Reginald and himself
prior to the arrival of Silas and his
friends.

“You are a lucky fellow, Julian,” said
White-hcrse Fred, when he had finished
his story. “I have been making regular
daily journeys to that ranch for more than
a year, and never saw or heard anything
to lead me to suspect that affairs were not
all right there. J used to wonder why
there were four men at that station and
only one, or at the most two, at the
others, and have thought it strange that
they should always be so particular to
hurry me away. No matter how bad the
weather was they wouldn’t let me stay
all night. But what is to be done, Silas?
Pedro has gone to the mountains to warn
Hale and his crowd, and if he gets there
before we.do, the discovery Julian has
made will be of no value to us.”

“ *Tain’t wuth while to do anything in
a hurry,” replied the trapper. “Let’s
hear what’s in that letter.”

Julian drew the letter from his pocket,
and taking his stand near the lantern,
began reading it aloud.

We do not reproduce it because its con-
tents have no bearing upon our story. It
was just a letter as any one of us would
have tried to write had we been placed in
Major Mortimer’s situation. It described
some events that happened long years be-
fore, and which we shall presently hear
from the lips of White-horse Fred, and
pleaded for assistance in language that
would have wrung tears of pity from any
but a savage.

Julian’s cheeks were wet long before he
ceased reading, and once he stopped and
turned toward the robber chief as if he
had half a mind to take an ample revenge
on him. The old Mexican wept like a
child, and gave vent to his indignation
by pounding on the floor with his staff;
while Silas and White-horse Fred stood,
with clenched hands and compressed lips,
gazing at Julian with eyes that would
grow dim in spite of them.

A dead silence succeeded the reading of
the letter, which was finally broken by
the trapper, who, after asort consulta-
tion with the two boys, determined upon
a plan of action. This he explained in a
few words, and preparations were at once
made to carry it into effect.

Leaving the old Mexican to watch the
prisoners, the rest of the party descended
to the cellar and thence made their way
into the stables. Julian mounted Snow-
drop and Fred went in pursuit of her
mate, but he was gone.

“Good luck attends us on all sides to-
night!” said he, gleefully. “Here were a
dozen horses in the stable, and instead of
taking a fresh one that blockhead Pedro
selected an animal which has already
traveled forty miles to-night. So much
the better for us. We'll overtake him
before he has gone five miles.”

The party mounted in haste, and gal-

 

 

loping out of the gate directed theis
course down the valley.

 

CHAPTER. XXXVI,
FRED’S STORY.

HITE-HORSE FRED and his
long-lost but now recovered
brother were boys who were not
much given to sentiment; but
although they did not go into ecstasies
over one another, they were none the lesa
delighted at their reunion. They kept as
close together as possidie, and clung to
each other’s hands as they galloped
along, as if afraid that something might
again come between taem to separate
them.

“Well, old feliow,”. said Fred at length.
“es 4 , .

it didn’t take you long to raise a row
after you got here, did it. Uncle Regi-
nald little dreamed, when he was work-
ing so hard to tind you in order to further
his own ends, how compietely you would
kick over his kettle of fish in less than
twenty-four hours after your. arrival.
We’ll keep those white horses as long as
we live, won’t we. They aze the best
friends we’ve ever had.”

“I believe that now,” replied Julian;
“but I didn’t think so when they were
roaming about among the mountains with
me and carrying me torobber dens, But,
Fred, you are not a horse-thief?”

“T never stole a horse, or anything else,
if that is what you mean; but’ 1 have
been a member of the band for more than
a year. I’ve had charge of a good ma iy
dollars’ worth of stolen property first
and last, and if I had happened to full
into the hands of the settlers while I bad
it in my possession, ’d have been ™n
up sure.”

“Why, Fred, what made you do it.”

“I had an object in view—one thag jus-
tified, even worse things than that. It
will not retard our speed in the least if
we talk as we go along, so I will tell my
story first—I know you are dying to hear
ii—and then I willlistento yours. Where
shall I begin?”

“At the beginning, of course.. Tell me
who I am, how I came to be an inmate of
Jack Bowles’ cabin, and all about it. I
hewve lived among mysteries for the last
few weeks, and 1 want every one of them
explained.”

“And yet there isn’t_asingle mystery
connected with your. history, or mine,
either,” replied White-horse Fred. “I can
make everything plain to you in ten.min-
utes. In the first place, that old ranch
back there is our home.. It was built by
Grandfather Cordova, ouc mother’s
father, who came out here in early times.
When I tell you that it was intended as
a tort as well as a dwelling, you will
know how those secret passage-ways
came to be there. Such. a building was
necessary in those days, for it was hardly
safe for white men about——” f

“Safe!” interrupted. Julian. “It isn’t
safe now.”

“Oh, things have changed wonderfully
since that house was built, and even dur-
ing my recollection. We-call ourselves a
quiet, orderly, wel!-disposed set of people ;
but when grandfather first came out here
he saw some excitements, I tell you. » He
was a native cf Mexico, and brought with
him a smal) colony of his .own people.
The Indians were so troublesome that the
government was obliged to keep a strong
body of troops here, and father was. one
of their officers. He commanded the fort;
and Silas. who was in more than one
battle wish hm, says he was a. fighter
worth looking at. He had not been out
here very long before he fell in. love with
and ‘married our mother, Inez Cordova,
threw up bis commission, and went to
digging gold and raising cattle. Every-
thing went on smoothly until grand-
father and mother died, and then the
trouble began. In one night our family
was completely broken up by a couple of
adventurers, who ought certainly to have
had some mercy on usif they had no
affection for us, for they were our
mother’s brother and cousin.”

“So far your story corresponds with the
one Sanders told me,” said Julian.

“Can’t you remember anything about
those happy days?’ continued White-
horse Fred. “I can, but then I am al-
most two years older than you are. I can
remember that Julian—the old. fellow
who came into your room with us to-
night—and his two boys, Romez and -An-
toine, were great favorites of mine. Juan
was father’s major-domo—he had charge
of everything in the house. Romez was
the hostler, and Antoine was the chief
herdsman. They were life-long servants
of our family, and they and a few others
have since proved themselves as true as
steel. When I became old enough to be
trusted alone with a horse, I used to ride
out to Antoine’s hut, which was located
in the lower end of the valley, and spend
weeks at a time with him, assisting in
herding the cattle and learning to throw
the lasso. Father would occasionally ride
out there to see that I was all right, and

 

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wt

748

now and then I would come home to
spend a day with you.”

“TI can remember those visits,” observed
Julian.

“At that time, in spite of the gloom
thrown over it by the death of our
mother, which occurred when you were
about three years old, our house was not
the desolate place it is now. The officers
of the fort used to visit there regularly
to talk over army matters with father,
eat Juan’s excellent dinners, and enjoy
the splendid shooting the mountains af-
forded. Father did considerable trading
with the trappers and friendly Indians;
the house was always full, and there was
always something interesting going on
there. Somehow the story got abroad
that father was immensely rich. Well,
he was wealthy, but he didn’t have as
ae money as most people supposed he

i Pe
“How much was he worth, anyhow?”
asked Julian.

“Perhaps a couple of million, and the
most of that once belonged to grand-
father.”

“Why, I heard Pedro tell Sanders that
he had fifty millions stowed away some-
where.”

“Ah, nonsense! Pedro has about as
clear ideas of wealth ashe has of the
moon; and that’s something he knows
nothing at all about. The story got wind
from this simple circumstance: Father
was one day walking up a little ravine a
short distance from the house, prospect-
ing, when he found a pretty good-sized
nugget. The next day they picked up an-
other, and a week or two afterward he
found a third. He told some of the officers
of it, and they spread it around. There
were a few miners here then, and they at
once crowded into the ravine and turned
up every inch of it; but not another
nugget was brought to light. That, how-
ever, did not serve to convince them that
there was not a gold mine of wonderful
richness hidden about there somewhere.
They industriously circulated the report,
and finally the story, together with the
news of grandfather’s death and mother's,
reached the ears of a couple of men in
San Francisco, who at once laid their
plans to possess themselves of father’s
wealth. They were Reginald and Rich-
ard Cordova, mother’s brother and cousin.

“They were graceless scamps, those
same fellows—professional gamblers, who
had been cast off by grandfather on ac-
count of their profligate habits. As our
parents had never mentioned their
names, no one out here knew that there
were such men in existence. They came
to the mountains, and, as bad luck would
shave it, the first man whose acquaintance
they made was Ned Sanders. They
pumped him carefully, and found that he
was just the fellow they wanted, for he
knew a good deal about our family, and
would do anything for money. “They un-
folded their plans to him, which were to
murder fether and his boys, and claiming
to be his brothers, seize upon his prop-
erty. Sanders entered heartily into their
scheme, but he proposed a slight change
of programme.

“I've got better idees nor them,’ said
he. ‘The ole major’s got a heap of money
laid up somewhar, but it ain’t a drop in
the bucket to what we'd finger if we could
only find that hidden gold mine of his’n.
We'll make way with the boys, ’cause
they won’t be of no use to us; but we
won’t harm the major. In course he won’t
want to tell us whar the gold mine is,
and wecan’t scare him into it, nuther,
’cause he’s one of them kind of fellers
that don’t scare wuth a cent; but we can
force it out o’ him in another way. We'll
make a pris’ner of him, and shut him up
away from his horses, an’ his ~hounds,
an’ his cattle, an’ keep him shut up till
he is willin’ to tell us what we want to
know,’

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

The Story ‘he ‘Trapper Told.

BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS,

—_-——

N acold, gloomy night, in an au-
tumn, several years ago, three
trappers were seated around their

A> camp-fire at the base of the Rocky
Mountains. It was at that particular
season of the year just succeeding the
reign of the equinoctial storm, the atmos-
aay being sharp, clear, and bracing,

hey were down within a lonely gorge,
where the light of their fire was securely
screened from the prying eye of any wan-
dering Indian, and where the roaring
wind passed harmlessly over their heads,
They had eaten their supper of buffalo
haunch, and were now meaning in their
esi and. story-telling. They were a

ardy set, those trappers, with their
bronzed and shaggy faces, crossed by cica-
trized wounds, and illuminated by a sort
of jovial recklessness, acquired from
their long familiarity with danger. Fach
possessed a spare, attenuated frame,

 

GooDpD

which held in reserve formidable strength,
wonderful endurance, and a panther-like
agility. The eldest, George Allmat, was
a peculiarity in himself. He had an un-
usually long neck, a bulging nose, and,
when walking, possessed a _ curious,
shuffling gait, going sideways, as though
he was making his way by main force
through the air. He was a greasy-looking
customer, and, in addition to his other
peculiarities, stammered badly in his
speech.

Probably next in order was the trapper,
known as Ed Drake, a lank, cadaverous
individual, with prepossessing features,
and an exhaustless fund of. good humor,
His appearance gave indication that the
wants of his body received but little at-
tention from him, and he had, indeed, fre-
quently gone days at a time without eat-
ing a particle of food. In the present
party he was the leading man, taking his
place instinctively as their adviser and
commander in all projects.

The third and last was much smaller
than the others, and was known as “Char-
ley Smith,” or, from his diminutive stat-
ure, he was more commonly called the
“Giant.” When walking, his neck pro-
truded forward, and his appearance was
as awkward and uncouth as could well be
imagined. His nose was a decided turn-
up, with an illuminated point, like a
cherry, his upper jaw jutted over the
under, and his smile was such that in-
stead of ornamenting, it disfigured his
face. Different in temperaments and
character, the three, from long compan-
ionship, were alike in their love for their
perilous calling, their disregard of per-
sonal danger, and their determined per-
sistence in the pursuit of any object.

“A splendid night this,” remarked
“Giant,” as he caught a live coal in his
fingers, and dexterously dancing it in his
palm, dropped it iu the bowl of his pipe.
“What a pity we couldn’t have such
weather all the time?”

“What's the use!” cried Drake. “We'd
soon get so tired of it that a regular
storm of thunder, snow, rain, and sleet
would be a relief, I pities them people in
the settlements. Waugh!”

“W-h-h-a-t do you p-p-pity them for?”
stammered Allmat, winking his eyes, and
nodding his head, as though it would
assist his articulation.

“They suffers so,” replied Drake, feel-
ingly. “They misses all this enjoyment,
this ’ere booty of camping out, this
getting chawed up by b’ars, and yer ha’r
raised by Injins. They misses all that,
and I pities them!”

The trapper was in earnest, and heaved
a great sigh out of commiseration for his
deluded bretnren of the East, who failed
to participate in the blessings enumerated.

“I pities them,” he added, “and yet
they doesn’t deserve ‘pity, for if they
knowed exactly how things was in these
parts, they wouldn’t come, even then.”

“Sh-houldn’t th-h-ink they would,” re-
marked Allmat.

“What is the reason they wouldn’t?”
demanded Drake.

“1D-d-on’t see the fun, I s’pose.”

“Waugh! I knows that. Hain’t you
ever had a b’ar hug, Allmat?”

“ ’

“TI don’t blame the bar that ‘jected to
embracing you, ’cause why, he couldn’t
stand it; but yer’s as has been hugged by
them same critters,”

“Let’s hear about it?” asked “Giant.”

“Tt ain’t much, nor worth the tellin’.
Waugh! I’m ashamed I spoke of it.”

Now, if anybody beside the trapper
himself had ventured to make this remark
he would have roused the anger of Drake
almost to the sticking point. The truth
was that no one knew better than him-
self that the story he was about to relate
was the most thrilling episode of his life;
but it was his manner of depreciating
what he was about to say.

“Tf it ain’t worth tellin’, keep your
meat-trap shut,” said “Giant,” well know-
ing that this would expedite the narra-
tion.

“It ain’t much, but what itis I'll let
you hear. It’s now about five years sin”
me and Dick Vansant started for trap-
pin’ grounds up in Oregon, Beaver skins,
and other peltries had been mighty
skearce for two or three reasons, anit so
we concluded to strike out for a new
spot. Thinking as how we would make
sure and go where we wan't likely to be
disturbed by any of the boys, we took the
mountainous part of the country, right
square among the Blackfeet, that was
tearin’ mad, and at every critter that
wore a white skin, which, being the case,
Allmat, you wouldn’t have been in any
danger at all—not the least.

“Wal, Dick and me had glorious luck,
as we got onto a creek where the beaver
had never been meddled with, and where
they had growed so thick some of ’em
proposed. attackin’ us, and drivin’ us
out of the country. Them beavers are
very sagaciated, as they say in the settle-
ments, and have got long heads. They

 

had a great dispute over the matter, but
come to the conclusion at last, that as we

 

hadn’t attacked them, they wouldn't

NEWS.

tackle us, decidin’ that we had got to
strike the fust blow.

“Wal, I reckon we did strike the fust
blow, the second, and I shouldn’t wonder
at all if westruck a few more. Least-
ways we soon had such a pile of peltries
that Dick proposed that we should start
forhum. Being so far off, howsumever,
and the Hudson Bay posts being so much
nigher, we made up our minds to dispose
of ’em at one of these places. So we
started, our mules loaded down till they
was inwisible under their peltries, look-
ing like big turkeys crawlin’ around the
country.

“We kept a sharp look out for Black-
feet, and had hard work to steer clear of
’em. I don’t b’leve we was ever out of
sight of their camp-fires an hour at a
time, while we daren’t touch off a tooth-
pick for fear of drawin’ ’em down on us.
The further we got, the more of the
thieves ’peared to be around, ’till at last
we daren’t sneeze without holdin’ a
beaver skin over our noses to deaden the
sound. Dick sometimes rode on a spare
mule that we had, and one day he thought
this critter looked as though he was
going tocough. Knowin’ that it would
never do to allow that, he jumped off,
knocked him in the head, and rolled him

over some rocks, and Dick felt proud that:

he had saved us so easy. The other mules
seein’ what had took place, kept their
mouths shut, so that we wan’t troubled
in that way at all.

“One ar we reached a high mountain
which Dick wanted to pass over, while I
wanted to go round, as I was sure it was
full of Blackfeet. We argufied the ques-
tion a long while, till toend the matter
I give in, and we commenced ascendin’ it.

“We went very keerful up the moun-
tain, and queerly enough didn’t once see
sight of a redskin; but on the very top,
when we was goin’ along very still, all
at once—I say, Allmat, jist fix up that
fire a little, will you.”

“Yes; g-go on,” replied the hunter,
doing as he was requested.

“Wal, as I’s sayin’, we didn’t see
nothin’ till we got to the very top, which
seemed very queer to both of us, for we
knowed the varmint was an all-fired
sight thicker than your creditors are,
Allmat, when you show yourself in the
States. But that ain’t here nor there.
We was walkin’ along very quiet like,
when whiz! bang! come twenty shots, and
Dick Vansant keeled over and went under
without so much as sayin’ ‘good-by’. to a
feller, and what was more, both mules
was riddled through and through, and all
the peltries gone. ‘Things looked so
squally about then, and my topknot got
so uneasy that it lifted my cap from my
head. Afore doin’ anything rashly I took
an observation, which was rather hur-
ried. If I seed one red-skin, I seed thirty
jumpin’ over the rocks, yellin’ and wig-
glin’ their fingers as though they already
had them in my ha’r. Sendin’ a shot
among ’em, I throwed my rifle and run,
the whole pack tearin’ after me like mad.
Jumpin’ along from rock to rock, they
all the time firin’ at me, I at last got
down in a eas where the ground was
level, and then [ done some tall travelin’.
I’d ’ve got off safe enough, if, just as I
had got a nice start in the valley, there
hadn’t—— I say, Giant, just hand mea
light for my pipe, will you?”

“Here it is. Ain’t you done with that
story yet?”

“Just as I had got a nice start what do
you s’pose I met? Just guess, Allmat.”

“S-some more Injins.”

“No. You guess, Giant.”

“An elephant.”

“No, sir I met nothin’ more nor less
than two grizzly bears, only as big as
elephants. They had seen me comin’ and
had started out to meet me. The place
where I was running was so narrow that
I couldn’t pass ’em, while the Injins was
comin’ on fast behind me. Them grizzlies
had their backs up, too; their mouths
were open and slobbering with foam, and
their eyes was as red as theend of Giant’s
nose there. I looked ahead and seed it
was no use to think of slippin’ by them—
they was too cunnin’ to let me do that.
I looked behind and seed it was just as
bad with the Injins. So whatdo you
s'pose I done?”

‘Sh-shot ’em,” replied Allmat.

“Couldn’t do {that, as my gun was
throwed away.”

“Run by them?” ventured “Giant.”

“Couldn’t be did, I tell you,”

“S’pose you went under.”

“No, sir, didn’t do no such thing,
though matters looked enough like it just
then.”

“What in thunder did you do, then?”

“Wal, sir, I took another look and con-
cluded I’d try the b’ars afore the Injins,
They was standin’ close together just
then, and I run in atween ’em. They
reared up on their hind legs as they seed
me comin’, and I catched each of my
arms under their fore legs, and I had’em
fast. They squirmed and tried desperate
hard to git loose, but it wan't no use. As
I held ‘em they butted their heads to-

abn

gether till they was mad as fury, by
which time the Injins had come Up.
Catchin’ the grizzlies in my arms
throwed ’em right in among the redskins,
and in shorter time than it has took me
to tell it, they had chawed up every one
of ’em, and, when I left, was picking
their teeth with their tomahawks!” ;
A new story by Epwarp §, Exzis will be

commenced week after next. See announce- .

ment on page 744,
Oo --

Dancing Marionettes.

7 ARIONETTES, says a sanguine
qT Vv inventor, must have an inherent

3 life. of their own, The clown,
<GS~ the Columbine, and all the figures
representing animals will now caper
about on their own hook. ‘

Worn out visiting-cards, matchsticks,
these are the very simple materials W}
which people who are fond of a little
nonsense now and then can fashion al
the figures represented by these design®
which can at any time be set in mobo?
like mechanical toys.

Take, for instance, a clown. First draw
and paint the figure on the back of
card—the body and head first, then the.
two legs and arms; carefully cut ov
these five pieces, place the body 0? &
table and above it the legs and arms in #
position of rest.

-—\

Now these limbs must be joined, and
this is how it is to be done, Take, for
instance, an arm, mark with a pencil @
the shoulder end of the arm, the ex@e
spot forming the axis of rotation; pierce
a hole with a pin at this point and pU
it through the shoulder in the body.
Bend a matchstick at the center as mue
as possible without breaking, and droP
a little melted sealing-wax, joining the
two ligaments to the arm and body we
spectively, making the part forming one
joint be in contact with the pin. Do t 2
same for the other limbs, remove the aye
pine and the figure is complete. Now a”
1ave to give it life. eh

All that has to be done for this 18 re
place the side of the figure on which #7
the matches in a plate containing @ ee
layer, so to say, of water. The bent fiber
of wood which have not been broke? rt
swell by means of the moisture absorbets
and will try to regain their rectiliné rs
position. The figure will then make
series of abrupt movements, which ml
very amusing. The legs and arms W
move apart as those do which are mow
by a string. Be careful to use only lara,
common matchsticks. The Swedish 0” d
are impregnated with paraffine, ai
would not move as required, h-

Each one can perfect the mode of fae
ioning these figures as he likes best. her
ballet girl who can lift her foot t its
forehead, a rooster which can mové :
legs about, are pretty easy to make ) +
horse with twelve different joints 1§ * she
too difficult for an amateur. or fer’
horse each leg is composed of three di
ent portions. Jate

Instead of placing the figure on # P int
we can put a drop of water on each JO,
with the finger or with a paint brae™
and the effect will be the same.

——__+-¢-e—_____

THE 80-ton muzzle-loader is the weap
which used to be known as “the wore
wich Infant.” For some time it was 1
largest gun in existence; but event
it was exceeded in size by a gun Wiig
was built by Armstrong for the Italialy,
This gun, of which eight specimen’ /o¢
to this day carried by Italian shipt in
war, was the last and grandest & or
the construction of muzzle-loaders und
weighs 100 tons; throws a_2, Pas of
projectile, with a charge of 55 poup 1 700
powder; has a muzzle velocity of bt
feet. per second, and a muzzle energy of
40,100 tons, and can pierce 27 inches
wrought iron at close quarters.

—_—_-o-—>__—
James Or1s, M. Quap, EpwarD

8. ELLs:

 

See page 744,

 

  

everett

[This |

PE
THE

[PET
numbe

    
 

[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]

PETER POTTER THE PAGE;
THE SCAPEGRACE OF THE SENATE.

By “JACK.”
Author of “Grimsy,” etc., etc.

 

[PETER PoTTER” was commenced in No. 45. Back
numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]
ou

NUMBER THREE.
THE SECRET CHAMBER.

 

 

 

HE pages, led as usual by Peter,
were always “snooking” about the
great Capitol building, to see what
they could find. They had an in-
Satiable desire to go where no one else
had ever been; and, with this laudable
motive, they extended their explorations
through every opening in the building,
whether in the subterranean caverns far
below, or in any secret recesses upon the
roof which the genius and_ tender fore-
sight of the architect had left sufficiently
large to permit the introduction of a
boy’s head. And, as we all know, wher-
ever a boy’s head will go through he soon
Manages to pull the body after it.

Upon one occasion they crawled into
the pneumatic tube, constructed for the
pone of transmitting documents to the

Overnment Printing-office, a half-mile
distant. They crawled along this nar-
row passage, we large enough to admit
their bodies, like an army of snakes, for
Several hundred feet; and then finding
that no particular fun was to be got out
of that expedition, Peter, who was as
usual in the lead, gave the order to the
next boy tohimto back out. This boy
Passed the order to the next, and soon
to the end of the long line. Then came
the task (which was no task to them, be-
Cause it was in the nature of mischief) of
Crawling backward all that distance.
This, of course, was necessary, as there
was no such thing as turning round in

at narrow space.

When they finally emerged from the
tube, covered with dust, they congratu-
lated themselves on having hada “high
Old time.” Just then the engineer came
aay and. seeing their begrimed condition,
Said:

“Where’ve you kids been?”

“Nowhere much,” replied Peter, look-
ing awfully innocent, and trying to re-
Move the evidences of his escapade from
his clothes.

“Yes, ye have,”
firmly. “ You’ve been
noomatic tube.”

‘The boys were a trifle startled, and
Wondered how he knew, but said noth-
ng,
“Do you kids know what danger you
Was in?” demanded the engineer, with a
orrified expression, real or assumed.

“No,” replied the boys, in a chorus,
their eyes increasing several diameters in
Size,

cried the engineer,
in that there

Why, you come purty nigh bein’
killed, that’s what. If ye hadn’t come
Out jest when ye did you'd ’a’ been an-
Nihilated! D’ye know what that means?

nocked into smithereens! It ain’t been
& minit since the ball, full of documents,
Was shot through that tube, and it gits
along a trifle faster than a cannon-ball.

Othin’, not even a stone wall, won’t
8top it; so you see where you'd ’a’ been if
ye hadn’t got out jest when ye did. I'd
a’ had to gathered ye all up, in one word,
like a bunch o’ dates and shipped ye so.”

“Ts that so?” said Peter, pretending to
be terribly frightened.

“Yes, that’s as true as preachin’,” re-
turned the engineer, energetically.

“All right, then, we'll try it again,”
Said Peter. e

The engineer looked at him in disgust
and walked away, grumbling something
about “these pages beating his time.”

After that the boys crawled into the
ube regularly every day or two.

Their rovings were frequently rewarded
y finding brooms and articles, the exist-
€nce of which, few, if any, about the
uilding knew or suspected.

nder one portion of the Capitol isa
crypt or cell, and over it is a large room
Crowded with pillars. In this large room

e boys discovered a trap-door one day.
{ course, they raised it. They wouldn't
ave been boys if they had not, much
€ss, pages. On opening the trap-door
they discovered an old stone staircase
arth descended into the bowels of the
r

The boys were delighted. With a war-
Whoop of joy they scurried down the
Steps as fast as their little legs would
Carry them. When they reached the bot-
©m they found themselves in a circular
Toom, damp and cold, and nearly filled
With broken statuary of every description
Statesmen, griffins, lions, and other
Images, The flickerings of the candles
Which the boys carried, against these
Marble figures produced a ghastly effect

 

GOooDdD NEWS.

that delighted the boys. Here was such
romance as they could find nowhere out-
side a dime novel, and they were in rap-
tures.

They went hooting and yelling about
like atribe of Indians. And after that
they always used this room as a retreat
in which to conduct their midnight rev-
els. It was there they also held their
solemn conclaves; and the spectazle of
such asession, in that weird and dis-
mal place, would have chilled the blood
of a beholder. In this horrible place
every new page was inveigled by Peter
and his crowd, and there, amid the
ghostly shapes and in the presence of
twenty or more masked pages, the green
boy was initiated into the solemn and
awful secret society known as the “An-
cient Order of Winklum Dinklums.”

It is needless to say that the verdant
youth was frightened out of about two
years’ growth before the ceremony was

ended.
Whenever, through the. death, dis-

‘charge, or resignation of a page, a va-

cancy occurred, and a new boy made his
appearance in the House, it was the pre-
rogative of the older pages to instruct
him in the customs and methods of Con-
gress. This they did with great alacrity
and apparent solicitation for the new
boy’s welfare. In a day or two they
would gain his entire confidence, and
then they would tell him that he must
join their society. The new boy, think-
ing it was part of the programme, would
readily consent, and he would be taken,
usually late at night, down into the
secret chamber.

Shortly before reaching the foot of the

 

At the same time some one would push
a chair up behind him, and when he felt
it touch his legs, the boy would sit down.

But he would get right up again, for
there was a large sponge full of water on
the chair. Then Peter would say in a
solemn voice:

“There is no rest for the wicked. This
proves that you are wicked; if you hadn’t
been you would have sat still. Lead on
the sinner.”

Here they would walk him round for
another half hour, Peter lecturing him
all the while, and finally they would stop
him in a position facing the statues, and
Peter would say in a deep sepulcheral
voice:

“The sinner is sufficiently purified to
see the light; remove the blindfold !”

At this the handkerchief would be re-
moved, and the boy, looking straight
ahead of him, would see the ghostly ar-
ray of statues, slightly illuminated by a
few candles set on the floor at their feet.
He would naturally be startled, if not
actually frightened half out of his wits,
and after a hasty glance at the ghostly
images would look around for the other
boys ; but none of them would be in
sight. They had secreted themselves in
some of the dark corridors leading off
from the circular room, and the boy
would find himself alone.

This would frighten him more than
ever, and he would usually commence
prowling about in the dark trying to find
the staircase leading out, but he never
succeeded, and after he had prowled
around long enough to satisfy the boys,
they would all at once come tearing out,
yelling and blowing tin horns, creating

 

 

 

 

THE HON. SPIKE'S COAT-TAILS WERE SEIZED BY A DOZEN PAIRS OF HANDS, AND HE WAS
DRAGGED BACKWARD,

stairs they would stop and bind a hand-
kerchief about his eyes, and then lead
him on down into the damp, chilly room.

Once in the room, they would leave
him standing alone for a few minutes,
during which time the rest of the boys
would remain as still as death. This
would give the victim time to reflect
upon what his fate would probably be,
and become pretty nervous, when all of a
sudden Peter would slap him on the
shoulder (the boy would jump about four
feet into the air), and say:

“Sinner from the outer world, you are
now in the sanctuary of the solemn and
awful Winklum Dinklums. Beware
what you do, beware what you say, be-
ware what you think—for the avenging
griffin is liable to ceew fon up in five
minutes. Are you prepared, O, sinner, to
enter our secret inner circles?”

It made no difference what answer the
boy made, four to five of the pages would
grab him and walk him around the room,
until he was ready to drop, Peter, who
kept close at his heels, explaining at in-
tervals that they were now passing
through the “Room of the Sacred Ser-
pent,” the “Hall of the Four-eyed Bull,”
or the “Chamber of the Forty Skeletons,”
and soon. The boy being blindfolded
could not tell, but that he was going
through a hundred rooms instead of
round and round in one.

Finally when they thought they had
walked him about enough they would
stop him, and Peter would say:

“Are you weary, O, traveler?’ ‘

The boy would likely say “Yes,” and
Peter would say

“Then rest, my faithful friend,” __.

 

such a din as not only to frighten the boy
half to death, but to make the Goddess of
Liberty away up on the roof, shudder.

The pages would then cluster about the
new boy, and he would recognize none of
them, as all wore masks, and after sol-
emnly saluting and shaking hands with
him, the “Grand Scribe” would produce a
blank book in which the names of all the
pages in the House were enrolled, and
holding it under a lighted candle, re-
quest him to sign his name. If he com-
plied without hesitation, all well and
good; but if he hesitated or refused, in-
stantly a dozen or more tin daggers
flashed in the candle-light and pointed at
his throat. At the same time a chorus of
awful voices rang in his ears:

“Sign, or die!”

He usually hesitated no longer, but
signed at once. After that he was a full-
fledged member, and ready to assist in
repeating the racket on some other vic-
tim when opportunity offered.

Perhaps the most fun the boys ever had
in their subterranean retreat was with a
member of Congress, a wild-eyed, long-
haired, rantankerous socialist or some-
thing of that sort, named Armadillo
Spike. He had been elected from the
coal-mining regions of Pennsylvania, by
the miners as their representative, and
he knew as much about legislation, or
the English language for that matter, as
a pig does about arithmetic. But he was
a “blow-hard,” and like all his class a
tyrant, especially over those weaker than
himself, and the poor pages. came in for
a large share of his oppression. He
never appeared so happy as when he
could send a page upon a difficult, almost

 

T7493

impossible mission, and then abuse him
like a dog, if he did not fulfill it to the
letter. There are three libraries in the
Capitol, the Senate Library, the Law
Library, and the Congressional Library,
and between the three there is scarcely a
book of any value that cannot be found.
Still there are books on so-called politi-
cal economy, written by cranks and
blatherskites, that cannot find their way
into any library, and these books were
the very ones that this member would
ask for. The page would go into one
library after another and inquire for the
book, only to be told that the librarian
had never heard of it. He would then
return and report his lack of success to
the member, who would fly into a tower-
ing passion, and say:

“I know it is there, and you go git it
mighty quick !”

“But,” the boy would plead, “the libra-
rian says he never heard of the book, and
I can’t get it, if he won’t give it to me,

“The librarian never told you no such
stuff, unless he’s a blanked fool; and
you’re just makin’ uP this story to keep
from gittin’ the book. Now, you go git
it, and hurry ’bout it; d’ye hear?”

As a general thing, the boy would
make a pretense of going to the library a
second time, but, as a matter of fact,
would simply loiter in the lobby for
a while, and then, when he had mustered
sufficient nerve, return to the member
and tell him that the librarian said for
him to come get the book, if he thought
he could find it, or some other such
story. In such cases the member would
rush frantically away tothe library to
blow up the librarian; but as the boy iad
neglected to state which librarian it was,
the fellow would only succeed in making
a show of himself without gaining any
satisfaction.

Matters went on for sometime in this
way; but finally the day of retribution
arrived for the boys. They had long ago
made a solemn compact among them-
selves that they woul get even with the
overbearing member, and they did.

The member had been appointed on a
special committee, which was to meet
some time after the adjournment of the
day session. Spike came into the lobby
a few minutes before the time for the
committee to meet and asked, or rather
commanded one of the pages to show
him to the committee-room.

“Which committee-room?” inquired the
boy, in perfect simplicity. “There are
several committee-rooms,”

“Why, the special committee-room,”
roared the ill-natured fellow.

Peter happened to be within hearing,
and came up at this juncture.

“The statue committee-room is the one
the gentleman wants,” said Peter, with a
sweet innocent. smile.

“Where in Jericho’s that?” demanded
the member, turning savagely upon
Peter.

“Tom will show you, sir,” said Peter,
politely, at the same time turning to an-
other page whom he knew would under-
stand. “You know where the statue
room is, don’t you, Tom?”

“Yes; come on, sir, I’ll show you,”
said Tom.

Tom led the way into the large room
over the crypt, and some of the other
pages, by taking a shorter route, had
preceded him there and opened the trap-
door, so as not to arouse the member’s
suspicions. . ; >

“This way, sir,” cried Tom, starting
down the stair-way.

“What, you don’t mean to say that
I’ve got to go down them dark, narrow
stairs?” roared the long-haired gentle-
man. ‘
“That’s what you’ve got to do, if you
want to goto the statue-room,” replied

m, quietly.
* Well, this beats all,” cried the mem-
ber, starting to descend. “If they don’t
need reform here, I don’t know where
they do need it; and they'll have it be-
fore I’m here very long.” :

J should have said that on their way to
the large room Tom had taken a circu-
itous route, so that the rest of the pages
had ample time to get down into the sub-
terranean chamber ahead of Tom and his
wild-eyed statesman.

Tom carried a candle, which flickered
and showed the staircase in a bewilder-
ingly, unsatisfactory way, bringing out
the shadows and making it appear that
there were steps where there were none.
So that the honorable gentleman stumbled
and growled and swore all the way down.

When they reached the bottom Spike
paused and stared in astonishment at the
scene before him.

The boys had placed a half dozen, short
bits of candle on the floor near the
statues in such a way that they (the
candles) could not be seen, while they
vaguely illuminated the statues and ren-
dered them more mysterious and ghostly
than usual. In short, there was just
light enough to make it impossible to tell
what the statues were. He gazed in &

gstupefied_way at them for A minute or

 
 

 

 

   
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
   
  
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
   
  
    
  
  
  
   
    
     
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
 
   
    
  
   
 
    
   
   
  
  
    
   
   
  
 
  
  
    
 
  
 
     
   
    
   
  

 

-750*

two, vainly trying to make out what they
were, and then gave it up and turned to
his guide for an explanation.

But he did not find him there as he ex-
pected. Tom, the mcment he saw the
member's attention was riveted on the
statues, had glided away in the darkness
(having extinguished his candle), and
joined his companions. The Congress-
man, filled with rage, started in pursuit
of the truant page, and that was the mis-
take of his life. the moment he moved
away from the staircase it was impos-
sible for him to find it again. Neverthe-
less, the long-haired gentleman dodged
about in the darkness searching for the
page and bawling himself hoarse, and all
to no purpose. The empty chamber and
receding corridors echoed back his voice,
and he found nobody or anything, except
the wall at. intervals, which he would
bump up against and nearly smash his
face. Not knowing that the room was
circular in shape, he could have no idea of
the points of the compass, nor could he
understand how he came in contact with
the wall so often,

His rage increased every minute, and
he was growing almost frantic, when he
stumbled over a broken statue, and fell
sprawling to the floor. No sooner had he
done so, when the whole troop of pages
came tearing through the room, yelling
and tooting their horns.

The Congressman scrambled to his feet
as fast. as he could, boiling over with

“rage, and determined to wreak a fearful
vengeance on the first boy he caught,
But he didn’t catch any. By the time he
regained his feet the boys had vanished
as mysteriously as they came.

Spike was in a dilemma now. He just
began to realize that he had been played
upon by the mischievous pages, and he
also realized that while he was groping
about there in that dark cellar, the com-
mittee was probably in session and won-
dering where he was,

The more he thought over it the mad-
der he got, but his anger took a more
philosophical turn now. He saw that
there was nothing gained by charging
about like a wild steer and nearly brain-
ing himself at every turn. So he sort of
laid low and treasured up his wrath for a
future time when he should see the boys,
that is, provided he ever got out of that
dungeon.

The room was. gradually growing
darker and darker, on account of the
short bits of candle burning out, one
after another. He noticed this, and he
decided to investigate where the light
emanated from.

On a nearer approach to the statues he
discovered the bits of candle {only three
of them were remaining), and a_ happy
thought occurred to him: He would take
one of the bits of candle and find his way
out. No sooner thought of than done. He
picked up the langest piece, which was
about an inch long, and started upon a
tour around the roomin search of the
stair-way.

He might have found it, and, indeed,
was not far from it, but just at that mo-
ment the troop came dashing through
again like a whirlwind, and managed to
knock the candle out of his hand, and al-
most. knocked him off his feet.

The Congressman flew into another
spasm of rage and grabbed wildly about
in the darkness for his tormentors, but it
was of no use. They were gone.

True, they returned at intervals, but so
slyly that he was not aware of their pres-
ence until they would. slap him on the
back as they whizzed past, or dodge be-
tween his legs, nearly throwing him
down,

Then they withdrew for a minute or
two to give him a chance to think, and
Spike began to grope. about for the stair-
way again, grinding his teeth and swear-
ing inan undertone.. By dint of feeling
along the wall (the candles had all gone
out), and at the expense of numerous
bumps, he finally found the stair-way,
and was onthe point of mounting it,
when he felt himself seized by the coat-
tails by a dozen or more pairs of hands
and dragged rapidly backward eight or
ten feet and whirled around four or five
times.

This was all done so quickly that Spike
had no time to resist, much less capture
any of his assailants, before they were
off again; and now he was so completely
turned around and muddled that he had
no idea which way to start for the stair-
way.

He stood ruminating for a moment on
what he had better do, when he thought

-he heard a host of feet pattering past in
front of him, and then he heard some-
thing heavy drop on the floor,

The Congressman made a wild dash in
the direction, but the next instant he
was sprawling on the floor. The heavy
thing he had heard drop was a statue the
boys had brought and thrown there, and
the honorable gentleman?tumbled over it.

“Oh, if I ever git at you young ras-
cals!” he roared.

“What wili you do?” came a chorus of
voices from the darkness somewhere,’

 

 

GoonDpD

“T’ll murder you!” roared the member.

“All right; you’ll never get out of here
alive then,” said the chorus. “Draw
your daggers, comrades!” cried a com-
manding voice. “The Winklum  Dink-
lums will have his blood !”

This caused the honorable gentleman
to reflect. From what they had already
done, and considering his treatment of
the boys, it seemed highly probably that
they would carry out their threat, and
he felt his blood run cold. He suddenly
changed his tone.

“Come, boys,” he said, in a gentler
voice than they could have given him
credit for, “let me out; that’s good boys.”

“Not much,” said the chorus.

“Please do. I’ll do anything you say,
if you will.”

“Never abuse a page again?”

“Never.”

“Never try to get even with us for
this?”

“Never.”

“Give the boys an oyster supper?”

“Yes; the finest you ever sat down to.”

The next moment a light appeared on
the stairs, and the Congressman made
his escape. And he kept his promise
with the boys, too.

(£0 BE CONTINUED.)
———_—____~—-0--~<——_—_—_———_-

MAGIC SQUARES.

BY PROF. H. A. WOOD, A. M.,
of the Stevens School, Hoboken, N. J,

<PRHE subject of magic squares has long

engaged the attention of the curious.

It is said that Plato amused himself

with them. ‘The ancients ascribed to

them great virtues, as the arrangement

formed the basis of many of their talismans.

Our own Dr. Franklin carried this curious

speculation farther than any of his predeces-

sors. He formed a magic square of magic

squares of the first 256 numbers, which sur-

passed in ingenuity any that had been de-
vised,

It has been said that a magic square,
composed of an even number, cannot be
formed whose numbers added vertically,
horizontally, and diagonally, will give an
odd number for the sum. ‘The feat has been
pronounced impossible. If we are limited
to taking numbers in their order, or num-
bers forming any series, it is evident the
feat cannot be performed, but Mr. Barrett,
of England, has shown that combinations
of integral numbers may be so taken as to
form any number of such squares. It may
be a source of interest to those in search of
the curious to learn how such squares can
be formed. The following will illustrate

the method:
Fig. I.

a |p alo v[p e

 

Ce B

 

D vA a

 

 

 

Da

 

Cc |» cA b

D lo a

In Fig. I, the four letters, A, B, OC, and D,
are arranged in four ways. The rule for ar-
ranging the letters is that no letter shall be
repeated in a vertical, horizontal, or diag-
onal row. To these are added the small
letters a, b, andc. The rule for their ar-
rangement is that no letter shall occur twice
in a vertical, horizontal, or diagonal row,
and in each of these rows a different capital
letter shall stand without a small letter
added. Now by substituting such numbers
for these seven letters that their sum shall
equal 1891, a magic square will be formed
for this year. Care should be taken in ar-
ranging the letters and substituting num-
bers as not to form duplicates, as these are
to be avoided.

Suppose that we let A=1000, B=700,
C=100, D=80, a=6, b=3, and c=2; then
A B C D a b c=1891. If these
values be combined as indicated in Fig. I,
we derive Fig. II, a magic square for 1891.

Ww Fig. IL.

 

1000 | 706 | 108 | 2

102 83 100 | 700
1891 |——-—-—_—_——— | 1991
86 100 7102 | 009

703 | 102 | 80 106
mre restr tat

If the numbers composing this square be
added vertically, horizontally, or diagonally,
the sum in each case is 1891. The same re-
sult is also obtained by adding the four
numbers in the corners, any four composing

 

a corner, or the four which make up the}

center,
Sitice «ny séven numbers assigned to these

 

 

NEWS.

letters, whose sum shall be 1891, will form
a square possessing the above properties, it
is evident that hundreds of different num-
bers may be chosen, and these may be ar-
ranged in hundreds of ways. Besides, the
arrangement of the letters may be changed
in many ways, thus increasing the number
of possible squares to billions.

In Fig. I, if we let a=65, the other values
remaining the same as in forming Fig. II, a
magic square will be formed possessing all
the properties of Fig. II, but which will add
1890 in each case. If we let a7, a magic
square will be formed for 1892, Since 1892
is even and divisible by 4, it is possible to
form a magic square for that number, com-
posed of numbers in a series, which shall
possess all the properties of the square for
1891. Fig. III will illustrate,

This square is composed of the 16 even
numbers in their order, beginning with +58.

Fig. II.

so
ass | a | oo | oe |
wo | 465 | azo | are |

ommewenst 1892

eae et ie
472 476 478 | 466 |

| 422 | s02 | soo. | a |

 

1892

We have confined our investigations in
the above to magic squares composed of 16
numbers. Figs. IV and V will illustrate how
similar squares may be formed of odd num-
bers; that is, an odd number of numbers
compose the square. Each of these sum
1890 when added vertically, horizontally, or
diagonally.

Fig. IV.

ess | os | on |

 

The subject of magic squares in modern
times has engaged the attention of some of
the ablest mathematicians, and the writings
upon the subject have become extensive.

creased by additional requirements, such as
forming large magic squares by the combi-
nation of smaller ones; also forming squares
with borders; that is, forming an additional
row about a magic square, which shall then
possess the properties of the original one,
and then repeating the process.
Fig. V.

sen | a0 | 206 | sx | seo

ses | so | sm2 | so | sen

:

1890 | 36 | sa | sre | ss | osx

 

+
oO

| or | se | sae | sve

wie | aco] 00 | aon | on

 

 

 

1890

Fig. VI.
1890

21

>

 

aus | az | 208 | 20 | x0 | ast | 100 | a
ll

 

|
|
231 248 178 190 | 191 | 202 213 ! 215

206 | 247 | ver | 10 | 190 | aon | 212 | 28 225

 

|
aie { 16 | rer | 120 | ooo | ana | 2 | 2 | 2

 

11s | 186 | a22 | 100 | aro | a | 200 | 204 | 20 g

0681

 

15 | 106 | 108 | 20 | 20 | 2a | a | 2a |

 

196 | 0 | am | ato | 20 | ae | ae | ava | 10

 

ass | am | aus | 220 | ono | a2 | rma | ae8 | 10

 

250

 

 

 

aoa | air | 2am | 20 um | r62 | 198 | 20

 

 

1890

Magic squares can also be formed of a

series in geometrical progression, the pro-

ducts of the numbers being the same taken

vertically, horizontally, or diagonally. ‘The
arrangement is shown in Fig. VIE.

Fig. VII.

128 1 32

me fei fe

The complexity of the subject has been in- |

If the numbers composing this square be’
multiplied vertically, horizontally, or. diag-
onally, the product in each case is 4096.
——___—_~4- e-@

How to Live, lo. Be. Ninety.

BY MAX ADELER,

Genet

Seo R. RUFUS WETHERSBY
| INA\ HICKS, of. Oshkosh,, is now
SY) ninety years of age, and in robust
health. In response to my in-
quiry as to the methods by which he has
managed to keep himself in such condi-
tion, he has written me the following
letter, which I publish for the benefit of
the publi¢. Mr. Hicks says:

“In the first place, I have always been
careful to sleep with plenty of ‘air in my
bed-room. I regard this a matter of vital
importance. The practice of sleeping in
a vacuum will gradually undermine the
strongest constitution. I have found
great advantage, too, in sleeping in bed,
and not on the wash-stand or across the
towel-rack. My grandfather used to say
that the towel-rack was even more dali
gerous to sleep on than the mantel-piece-

“Upon rising in the morning ¥ always’
jump at once into the bath-tub, no mab-
ter how cold the weather is; and I sit
there thinking whether I shall turn the’
water on_or not. Generally I conclmde’
not to. But the exercise in climbing i1”*
and out of the tub does me much good.
Before breakfast. I pass an hour or so in
parsing. T have become so skillful now
that I can tell an adverb clear across the
street, and no amount of disguise can
hide a personal pronoun from me. Some-
times, when I weary of grammar, I take
a quiet game of “Pussy wants a corner,
or practice looking cross-eyed at the
clock. This last amusement always gives
me an appetite.

“But a moderate breakfast is best. A
man doesn’t want more than two or three
watermelons, a hind-quarter of lamb, 4
peck or two of clams, and a bucket (@
small bucket) of pickles for his first
meal. Eat slowly. Allow at least 4
minute to a watermelon, and where gunl-
wads are introduced in the hash, be sure
and spit out the stones. (N.B.—This 15
not clear, but Mr. Hicks undoubtedly
means well.—M. ADELER.)

“After eating, the system needs a rest.
I go off to some quiet place, like the ral:
water cistern, or the chimney-flue, a2
try to compose my mind, Sometimes I
sing. It is admirable for strengthening
the lungs, and the chimney-flue develops
the sound wonderfully. Last Wednesda¥
I sang “Home, Sweet Home” up the fue
so effectively that it brought out the fire
company, and threw Mrs. Hopkinson ®
hired girl into fits. (N. B.—The 0
man’s mind appears to be wandering
here, but he is evidently trying to te
the truth.—M. ADELER.)

“A little later in the day you want eX
ercise to stimulate, the circulation.
Sometimes I carry the piano up 42
down stairs two or three times; or I ope?
and shut my umbrella seventeen or eigh-
teen hundred times, or brush my hair for
a couple of hours, or go out and dig pota-
toes with a lead pencil. I used to spank
the baby, but Thave no baby now smal
enough to spank. My youngest child J§
forty-seven, and has red hair, and is im
the Nebraska Legislature. (N, B.—If he

tain that a spanking would do him goo™
But I do not understand that reference be
red hair. It is not pertinent to the sU
ject.—M, ADELER.) - o-
“I never touch whisky. It is poiso®
ous. No man who uses it. can have long
life. Who can estimate the woe that ‘
has brought to the human race. No, re
avoid the hideous liquid as you woul k
fiery serpent. Not one drop of whis 5
has passed my lips for. ninety-one rent
(N.B.—The old man. is only ninety; a
let that pass.—M. ADELER), and not a
drop shall. .Nothing would induce me id
touch it. What I want is a little°
apple brandy, mellow and ripe; porns
with a dash of gin in it; and even of a
I never drink more than two quarts Ae
tween breakfast and supper. As ye at
bacco, well, when I was ten years Oher
vowed I would never smoke anot 7.
cigar or chew another plug of tobacets a
long as I lived. I have smoked 4 P
and chewed fine-cut exclusively. hack
“And now, in my old age, I look oan
upon the years of a well-spent life, on
as I wheel myself about my garde? ae
my wheelbarrow, looking at the 1084
rithms growing upon my vines, on
watching the prepositions climbing U Ons
the trellises, basking in the sunsh!
while the pelicans gambol about

a. ; i)

But this is enough, Mr. Hicks re
gradually ceasing to be lucid. Pelictts
never gambol; and I have some Gone:
about that wheelbarrow, performé ‘ill

 

 

 

4 16 64
8 256 2
H

wt 4096

but the reader who wishes. to live ae
ninety and become a hoary old feller, meg
study Hicks’ epistle possibly with prou™

is in the Legislature it is positively cel ~

 

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5

ZF

i= He
=

’
a
&
a
or
oO

SF;

@
>
oO

 

  
a

me

a

 

 

 

ON THE ENEMY’S LINES,

BY E, T. TAGGARD.

erento

 

war, when the army, under the com-
mand of Prince Frederick Charles,
was laying siege to the city of Metz,
that I found myself taking an active part

1&
ny was during the Franco-Prussian

#7" the siege operations in the humble

‘pacity of a lieutenant of infantry.
efore us lay the frowning battlements

 

4

s

i”

:

x

-

a
tea
th

| tho recently been guilty,

therte

}% that city, and from the embrasures the

Sud-mouthed cannon were hurling at us
fath and destruction, with every dis-
parse of which, seemingly heedless, the
fussian army steadily advanced its ap-
PMoaches, every night bringing us closer
® the city than we had been the pre-

Yous morning.

ehind us and around us on every side

Se the white tents of the Prussian
army, while the martial strain of music,
‘id the loud chorus of “The Watch on

e Rhine,” that was wafted to us by those
th 0 were on the extreme front, gave proof

at we were active participants in the
tride, and pomp, and circumstance of
Slorious war.

At the time at which my story opens I
Was in charge of a relay of infantry, who,
armed with shovels, were digging and
ieving into the earth under the watch-
‘ eye of a member of the engineer corps,
fqeundtul of the shots that were whis-
8] hg around them, and surely and not
. Swly developing out of the green-mantled
tite g seties of scientifically-constructed

pits.
i While engaged in this dangerous and
Mportant duty I heard my name called,

leutenant Stern !”
a eurnine quickly, I saw standing near a
he -officer, in whom I recognized a mem-
bie Of the staff of Prince Frederick. The
0d rose to my cheeks as I hurriedly
Aproached him, and, giving a military

° I stood silently beside his mettled
larger,

«Are you Lieutenant Stern?”
That is my name,” I replied, again

| Saluting,

You will report at the headquarters of

[Prince Frederick, immediately,” saying

an Ich, he struck his spurs in ‘his horse

8 d galloped across the field with the
me of the wind.

tai © say that I was astonished would but
‘atly convey an idea of the feelings that
ty ssed me. The words of the officer
Ul rang in my ears, and they were ut-

hot in such a distinct tone that I could

ave misconstrued them—“You will
port ,at the headquarters of Prince
ederick, immediately.” I stood for a
» ent overwhelmed with doubt and
of vusion. What could the prince desire
me? Vainly I endeavored to recall any
’ch of military discipline of which T
for the one
to ght that seemed to occupy my mind
hag 1° exclusion of all others was that I
tha been summoned to receive a repri-
rd from my general.
tha,’@S soldier enough, however, to know
‘the first duty was obedience, and I
fe) ened on a “double quick” across the
tha, 8, around the batteries of artillery
thee Stood ready for immediate action,
to ugh the crowded tents of the soldiers
here house, above which floated to the
ee the Prussian banner, and which I
W from experience was the headquar-
Mot the prince.
ex Tough all my campaigns I had never
Whewlenced a feeling akin to the one
trate oppressed me whenI had pene-
ton €d the cordon of sentinels that sur-
Mmqted the headquarters of the prince,
tp, 800d in the outer room awaiting the
re, Mons that would usher me into his
he ence: It was the nearest approach to
. Sensation of fear that ever oppressed
dis. -£ not frightened, at least I was
prayed.
ho €ard my name called, and the next
wwent I was ushered into the room
eter the prince sat engaged, even as I
the 74, in intently studying a map of
out ortifications of Metz that was spread
Ale a table before him.
I, hough he had heard my footsteps as
red, he never raised his eyes from
Yn tap before him, and my salute passed
Oticed. Instinctively he seemed to
wy ze my presence.
«gq Cutenant Stern?”
»€neral |”
nq’ the first time he raised his head,
Blan looked toward me. At a single
Noy) ° he seemed to penetrate my very
ticats His immobilé féatures gave no in-
1 On. whatever of. his. business with

‘ favor that his impression of me was a

Doved. ° one his subsequent language
Be Seated.”
ap, obeyed, and calmly as I could I

“pited his orders.
Lake Sutenant, are you prepared to under-
“ angerous joyrney?”

w

Mh a soldier theré can be-no glory

¥,~ there is no danger.”
May cost you your life.”

 

 

“My life belongs to my country.”

“Good! You will start to-night at
dark. Enter Metz from the north; ob-
tain a plan of the fortifications, particu-

larly those recently erected, and report |
You }

immediately on your return to me.
may go.”

I arose, saluted the prince, and passed
from the room with different feelings
to those with which I entered it. In-
stead of a reprimand, I had been charged
with a difficult, important, and danger-
ous duty, which proved that I enjoyed
the confidence of my general.

During the afternoon [I busied myself
making the necessary preparations for
my departure, and at nightfall. I set out
on my dangerous mission, and stealthily
approached the fortifications, making
careful approaches in my endeavors to
pass the sentinels of the French army
unobserved. Once in Metz, I had but lit-
tle fear of discovery. I had removed my
military dress, and had clothed myself in
a garb which I had obtained, for a con-
sideration, from a non-combatant resi-
dent of that city; andas Metz was a Ger-
man-Franco city, my features did not
present as much risk of discovery as they
might have done in a city nearer Paris.

I was foiled in every attempt I made to
elude the watchfulness of the French sen-
tinels; and on one occasion the whistling
of a bullet, too near my head to be com-
fortable, warned me that in my anxiety
to carry out the orders of the prince, I
was acting with but poor discretion. Dis-
couraged by my repeated failures, I sat
upon a rock, attempting to conjure upa
new basis upon which to act, when I was
startled by the discharge of heavy artil-
lery on the extreme southern side of Metz.

It was from our batteries, and soon the
French artillerists responded with a vim
that I could not but sdanine, A light now
began to dawn upon me—it_ was a diver-
sion in my favor. I now began to divine
why the Prince had ordered me to enter
Metz from the north. Again, encouraged
by this new position of affairs, I care-
fully approached the line of sentinels. I
found the gaps wider than before. The
firing had, to a certain extent, discon-
certed them, and in many placesI saw
them conversing for minutes at a time,
in the meanwhile leaving their posts un-
covered.

Watching my er. I succeeded
in penetrating the lines. I saw an ambu-
lance wagon approaching. It contained a
wounded and insensible French soldier. I
crawled into it, and thus, unchallenged,
we entered the city. It was intensely
dark when we passed the inner line of
sentinels, and I had no difficulty there-
after in mingling with the venturesome
people who were in the streets, and who
watched with unabated curiosity the line
of fire made by the Prussian shells.

The depths of the cellar of a house that
had been wrecked by one of our shells,
and hastily abandoned by its former in-
mates, afforded me shelter at night, while
during the day I strolled as far as the
outworks of the town in the company of
the lazy peasantry, and after the lapse of
three days I possessed all the information
necessary.

It was now time for me to return, and
for the first time I began to realize the
dangerous nature of my mission. I was
aspy! I had even then concealed upon
my person drawings of the French forti-
fications. Capture to me meant death!

On the night of the third day I began
my journey, with my face turned toward
our camp. It was late when I ventured
upon the dark and lonely streets of: the
city, stealing along under the deep shad-
ows of the houses toward the outskirts
ron I heard the steady tramp of the sen-
tinel.

With a soldier’s eye, I perceived at
once that my exit from the town would
be attended with greater danger than my

entrance. The line of sentries had been
doubled by Marshal Bazaine since the
night the Prussian artillerists had opened

fire upon the place. He feared a night
attack, and had thus prepared for it. Hs-
cape through the lines was an utter im-
possibility, and I retraced) my steps
toward the old wrecked house, determined
to await the hour of relief, when I hoped
during the change. of sentries to find
some post temporarily uncovered, and
thus slip through the French lines.

The buzz of low conversation attracted
my attention as I approached the old
house, and, carefully reconnoitering, I
saw that a squad of French soldiers had
surrounded it, and were intently engaged
in searching for somebody. The truth
flashed upon me at once—my presence as
aspy within the lines had been discov-
ered, and» my only hope of escape’ lay in
immediate flight. d :

Down the narrow street I ran with rapid
but noiseless tread, congratulating . my-
self on my escape from the clutches of
the French soldiers, when a vicious dog
sprang out of a court-yard near, and pur-
sued me, barking vigorously, and before
I could hardly appreciate the importance
of this new danger, I heard the entire

équad of soldiers in full ptirsuit of me,

  

 

 

CGooD NEWS.

the infuriated brute at my heels having |

given them the alarm.

The noisy bark of that yelling demon at
my heels had to be stopped at whatever
cost; so drawing my revolver I emptied a
couple of barrels into his body, and then
had the satisfaction of shutting his
mouth, whatever else might betide. Fear-
ing, however, if kept in the streets of
the city, my flight might be intercepted
by some of the night patrol, I turned to
the left and boldly struck across the fields
in the direction of the headquarters of
Marshal Bazaine, hoping by so doing ‘to
throw my pursuers off my track.

This maneuver worked charmingly, and
when I reached the suburbs of the town
no sound of them could be heard, and I
threw myself upon the wet grass, utterly
overcome by fatigue and the exertion
which had become necessary to elude my

ursuers. I did not linger there long,
owever. I knew that with daylight my
capture was certain unless I passed

through the French lines before that time
arrived, which feat, now that the troops
were alarmed and on the alert, seemed
an utter impossibility.

I wandered around rather aimlessly
and despondently for a time, when
through the darkness of the night I saw
something directly ahead which seemed
to oscillate with every breeze. I ap-
proached it carefully. Near*by were burn-
ing thecamp-fires of the French soldiers.
I reached it; and by degrees, as my eyes
became accustomed to the darkness, 1
discovered that it was nothing more nor
less than a huge ball6on, inflated and an-
chored, that the French had been using
so as to thoroughly reconnoiter our lines.

I entered it quietly, cut the cords that
held it, and in a short timeI had the
satisfaction of sailing away up in the
elouds. Then I began to realize the fact
that instead of escaping from the enemy
the balloon might prove to be the me-
dium of conveying me still farther into
French territory. I watched anxiously,
and my heart leaped with joy when I dis-
covered from the camp-fires that were
burning far beneath me that I was being
borne within the Prussian lines.

To make a long story short, I descended
in safety, carried my information to
Prince Charles the next morning, and on
the following day received my commis-
sion as a captain in the army of Prussia.

 

A treat in store for our readers. See page
-

744

Colds and Coughs

croup,
sore throat,
bronchitis, asthma,
and hoarseness
cured by

Ayers Cherry Pectoral

the safest .

and most effective
emergency medicine.
it should be in every
family.

Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co

Lowell, Mass.

 

 

 

 

tune Teller, Dictionary.of Dreams, Guide to Flir-

tation, Lovers’ Telegraph, Magic Age Table, Ma-

gic Square, 200 Selections for Autograph Albums,
79 Money Making Secrets, 20 et Songs, 84 Conundrums, The
Deaf and Dumb Alphabet, Morse Telegraph Alphabet, a Calendar for
the current year, and a book containing hundreds of Tricks and Par-
lor Magic; also 30 CompLETe Love Srortes. All the books and
everything described above will be sent to all persons who cut out
this advt, and send it to us with 10¢€, to Pi, postage, &c. Address

W. SIMPSON., 87 College Place, New York.

TELEGRAPHY.

Learners’ manual of complete instructions, with de-
scription of instruments. ow to put up Telegraph
Lines, Electric Bells, Batteries, etc. By mall free.

J. H. BUNNELL & CO., 76 Cortlandt St., New York.
MOTHER Soothing Syrup” for your children
. while Teething. 26 cents a bot tle
USIG 30cto $1 tf C Send 10c for trial Order,
é Pieces at

Vocal or Inst’l, Cat’! FREc.
Windsor Music Co., 215 Wabash-av. Chicago

Ten varieties frée to all sending for
STAMPS our sheet. GLOBE STAMP CO.,
*® 2008 North 10th Street, St. Louis, Mo.

M OUTH ORGAN Chart teaches a tune in ro‘minutés. Agts.

E 15 Portraits of Actresses, The Golden Wheel For-

Be sure and use **Mres. Winslow’s

 

wntd. 2cstamp. Music Novelty Co., Dettoit, Mich,

 

 

 

DI sauties; latest out, only 10¢. 57 for 25¢
PHOTOS Coanenes & Co., Bay Shore, N. Y.

NEW SAMPLE BOOK of Hidden Name, Silk Fringe, ge
A RDS Silver and Tinted Edgo Cards. The Finest ever offoi
Gr 2esnt stamp. NATIONAL CARD CO., SCO, OHIO,

SEND YOUR GLOVE MEASURE AND TWO CENTS
ONMARRIE POSTAGE AND RECEIVE BY RETURN MAIL *‘A
PLEASANT SURPRISE. Man’ g’r CLIMAX’ 440 AVE., CHICAGO, ILL,

FREE! SOS TRU NEW BAMERE GARDS

 

751

VASELINE.

OR ONE DOLLAR sent us by mail, we will

deliver, free of all charges, toany person in the
United States, all the following articles carefully
packed in a neat box:

One two ounce bottle of Pure Vaseline, 10 cts.
One two-ounce bottle Vaseline Pomade, 15 “
One jar of Vaseline Cold Cream ..... . 5

One cake of Vaseline Camphor Ice._..._ 10 “
One cake of Vaseline Soap, unscentea.. 10 “
One cake of Vaseline Soap, scented...... 25

One two ounce bottle of White Vaseline 25 “

“ec
“

Or for stamps any single article at the price.

If you have occasion to.use Vaseline in any form
be careful to accept only genuine goods put up by
us in Original packages.” A great many druggists
are trying to persuade buyers to take VASELINE
put up by them. Never yield to such persuasion,
as the article is an imitation without value
and will not give you the result you expect.
A bottle of Blue Seal Vaseline is sold by all
druggists at ten cents.

Chesebrough M’f’g Co., 24 State St., New York.

THE DOLLAR TYPEWRITER
iam, ABCDEFGHI 4B $
DEAR SIR. “=, NEWYORK OCT "| y

THIS TRENRITER DOES THE Sie
QUALITY OF WORK AS NREMINGTON..

 

   
  
   
  

 

     
 

is

\

  
 
 
  
  
 

A perfect and practical Type Writing machine for only ONE
DOLLAR. Exactly like cut;regular Remington type; does
the same quality of work; takesa fools cap sheet. Complete
with paper holder,automatic feed, perfect type wheel & inking
roll; uses eopying ink; in fact it does all of the work of
a high priced machine. Speed, 15 to25 words a minnte.
Size, 3x4x9 inches; weight, 120z; MENTION THIS PAPER.
Satisfaction guaranteed; Circulars free; AGENTS WANTED,
Sent by express for $1.00; by mail, 15¢ extra for postage.
R. H. INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 CORTLANDT 8T., N.Y. CITY.

 

 

RIDDLES AND THEIR ANSWERS.

S. & S. Manual Library No. 18. Price, 10 Cents.

This book contains a large and choice collection of
amusing and interesting riddles, enigmas, charades
and puzzles for both young and ola. A dull and stupid
entertainment may be enlightened by the amusement
resulting from a happy instance of jugelery with
words. The riddles have been selected with the great-
est care; very old and hackneyed examples have been
avoided, and alarge number of atea! specimens in-
cluded. For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent,
paeeald, upon receipt of price, ten cents, by the pub-

shers,
STREET & SMITH,
31 Rose Street New York.

OUT-DOOR SPORTS.

S. & S. Manual Library No. 7. Price, 10 Cents.

A book of instruction for playing ey. of the most

opular out-of-door games. A book that will supply a
ong felt want. The games introduced, while well
known, are elaborated, and many new features intro-
duced, which makes them more interesting and less
likely to become stale, Dlustrates games with and
without toys, for the city or country. For sale by all
newsdealers, or will be sent, oe upon receipt of
price, ten cents, by the publishers,

STREET & SMITH
31 Rose Street New York.

Good News. Binder.

Price 50 Cents.

Answers the purpose of a bound yolume.
Holding fifty-two copies comfortably.
; ie

 

 

——

 

 

 

It is, without doubt, the finest binder
ever offered, even for double the price we
ask, and is indispensable to those who are
keeping their papers, as it not only preserves
Goop News for future reference, and from
being lost, but keeps them clean and in
good order. It is both usefnl and ornamental.

It has a durable black embossed cover
with flexible back, and a gold stamp title on
the outside cover, It opens flat as any
book, and each week’s paper can be inserted
las soon as received. Full directions for in-
serting the paper accompany. each binder.

We will send the Goop News binder and a
package of binder pins, postpaid, to any
address on receipt of 50 cents.

This binder. has never been -offered
at this low figure before by any publisher.
Plainly stated, our reason for offering this

 

binder below cost is a8 & means of adver-
tising. ~

  

 

 

 

>

   

   
  
 
 
 
   
 
   
  
     
     
    
    
      
 

 

752

 

Puzzle Corner.

ee

 

[Original contributions solicited. Pleare do not
send puzzles containing obsolete words. Address,
“Puzzle Editor” Goob News, New York City, P. O. Box
2734.)

——-o----

No. 1—NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
[am composed of 17 letters.
My 11, 12, 2, 14, 16, is what all nations want most.
My 5. 10, 1, 16, is a part of the human head.
My 1, 15, 13, 4, 17, 12, is a kind of vehicle.
My 3, 9, 6, 8, is a wild animal.
My 7, 4, 14, 16, is a vegetable.
My whole was a much desired luxury in the
Eastern States in 1890. W. C. ROSSMAN,

No, 2—HippEN GIRLS’ NAMES,
1. Elen and Maggie went to school.
2. Go to bed, Nana.
8. I did not sew the heel; I cemented it,
4. The meal may be put In the basket.
5. You are to meet Frank at eleven.
: UNCLE SAM.

No. 3—BEHEADINGS.

j. Behead something round, and leave every-
thing.

2. Beheada useful article, and leave something
that grows on animals.

8, Behead a bundle, and leave a liquor.

4, Behead a wild animal, and leave a useful organ.

5. Behead something white, and leave the present
time, No NAME,

No, 4—WORD SQUARE.
1. To be told.
2. To relieve from pain.
8, A division of land.
4, To raise.

No, 5—Cross WorD ENIGMA.
In lad, not in had.
In bin. not in glad.
In verse, not in word,
In sin, not in heard.
In not, not in yet.
In Godtried, not in Bet.
In sour, not in hour.
In ten, not in seven.
In often, not in ever.
In never, not in sled.
In ever, not in sad.

Whole is a great explorer.

No. 6—DIAMOND.

A letter.
An article.
To show gratitude.

. A division of a book,
A passage,
A solution.
7. A letter.

No. 7—PYRAMID.
1. A letter.
2. A male descendant.
3. A luminous body in the heayens.
4. A noted African explorer.
The centrals name the color of a aan a.

CHASIRA,

Wo. G. 8.

PMRW we

JACK HAZARD,

No. 8—OBLIQUE RECTANGLE,
Across—
1. A letter.
2. Human,
3. An expression, meaning father,
4, A tool used by carpenters,
5. A short rest,
6. A letter,
Down—
. A letter.
. Mournful.
. To seize.
. A noise,
. A resinous gum.
. A letter.

Answers to Pars i 46 Good News.

No, 1—

AonrkONe

T. Port.

On

L
MA N

“4 yan

E
A
8
N
Py ME
BRE LAU
No. 2—
1. Lawson.
2. Orton.
. Lounsberry, ,
Optic.
. Thomes.
. Castlemon.

Pom eo

No. 3—
Amsterdam.

No. 4—
S—T—Able.
No. 5—
He 1s wise who is honest,

No. 6—
Bass.
A—corn.
P—lane.
H—elm.
D—rum.
W—rap.
No. 7-—
L ondo WN
Oo livi A
N apoleo WN
D* 'errie '
oO b I
N anki WN
London—Nankin,
No. &—
: Newport.
Frankfort.
Allegan.
Charleston,
Richmond.
Washington.
No. 9—
Con sum mate (Consummate.)

PUZZLE SOLVERS.

Geo. ©. Granville, Wm, A. Coakley, Wm. A.
Schmittberger, Albert Witbeck, Agnes L. Fergu-
son, Fred Blouquest, Lily Kilhon, Edwin Briggs,

 
   

   
   

Ml

ae

1—EXPLORATION.
38—AGITATION.

    
  

2-EXPECTATION.
4-REALIZATION.

 

 

Short Stops.

dip

A WARM reception—Scalding.
A PITCHED battle—a fight between two tars.
ALL plain salling—Navigating a prairie schooner.

Fox’s Marryrs.—Ducks, chickens, turkeys and
geese.

ae praying for goodness don’t ‘forget to be
good.

Ir burglars carry off your plate, why 1s it all
right? Because it is not left.

A HOWLING success—The dog that is locked out
all night next door,

MARRIAGE has failed so often that it will soon be
compelled to pay cash for goods.

To youth nothing seems to be more possible
than happiness; to old age nothing appears more
improbable,

WHEN a man revolves much in his mind, does it
make him dizzy ?

A sTREET in which a man cannot long walk
crooked—Bradadstreet.

A town sensation is like a girl’s pocket-book ;
there is usually so little in it,

To-MORKOW Will not be any longer than to-day
when it gets here, and your opportunities for doing
great things will be a day’s strength less.

Ir is delightful to see a man handle a hot lamp
chimney, while his wife lays bac« in the rocking-
chair and sings “Home, Sweet Home.”

‘(MARY CHEESE isin the St. Louis jail.” How are
the mitey fallen! But perhaps her arrest was
“smear-kase” of mistaken identity.

Tue devil would exult more over the fall of an
angel than over the ruin of the whole human
race,

An old edition of Morse’s geography says: ‘‘Al”
bany has four hundred dwelling houses and
twenty-four hundred inhabitants all standing
with their gable ends to the street.”

PaT Murpuy was asked by a clergyman, after he
had been in some trouble, if he bad not felt in-
clined to commit suicide.

“Yes, sor,” said Pat, ‘but not on myself.”

Youne ladies in the rural districts can now be
seen oiling the gate hinges. They don’t do it from
any feeling of love for the gate; they do it to pre-
vent the hinges from “singing” when the family is
wrapped in slumber.

THE Queen of the Hawatian Islands has intro-
duced a new fashion this Spring among her sub-
jects—that of wearing a red rag around her big
toe. She stubbed her toe the other day while run-
ning bare-footed.

A TEACHER asked one of his pupils, “What isa
fortification ?” ;

“Something in multiplication, sir.”

“How so ?”

“Cause two twentyfications make one forty-
fication.”

OF course he was perfectly sober. But for all
that he hailed a horse-car on the corner of Broad-
way ond University Place, about one o’clock in the
morning, and asked the driver what he wouid
charge to take him around to Eighth Avenue and
89th street.

A SIMPLE-LOOKING country lad, to whose lot fell
the leading questions in the Catechism, to “‘What
is your name ?” replied, ‘‘Carrots!”

 

“Who gave you that name?”
“All the boys in the parish, sir,” whiningly an-
swered the red-haired urchin.

 

Qur Mail Bag.

ie

 

(Questions. on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the “Mail Bag.” - Medical or legal
questions not answered. Goop News goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers cannot sppese until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Communications intended for
this column should be addressed “Goop News” Mail
Bag, P. O. Box 2734, New York City.]

— ee

T. H (Grenola, Kans.)—The stories are out of print.
4 A. P. M. (New York.)—March 25, 1874, fell on;Wednes-
ay.

W. L. F. (Cincinnati, {Ohio.)\—1. By express 2. Not
for some time.

A. N, (Jacksonville, I1l.)\—You must leave your height
to nature.

I. N. (Newark, N. J.)\—You can get a set at Peck & Sny
der’s, New York city, from $3 up.

B. B. (New York.)—There is a premium of two cents
on a half-cent of 1853.

N. F. (Washington, D. C.)}—Napoleon Boneparte was
made Emperor August 18, 1804, and signed his surren-
der of power April 11, 1814.

J. R. S. (Buffalo, Col.)\—The coins you mention are
only worth their face value. Coin book will be sent
you upon receipt of price, ten cents.

W, A. (Fairhaven, Wash.)—Similar letter to yours was
answered in “Short Talks With the Boys” a few weeks
ago.

4X, X. X. (Covington, Ky.)—Our advice is to leave all
hair dyes alone as most of them contain lead which has
been known to cause blood-poisoning.

J. J. I. (Mankato, Minn.)—We will send you any book
in the Goop News LiBrary, postage prepaid, on re-
ceipt of price, ten cents.

Cc. W. G. (Sanford. Fla.)—Phonographs are not sold
but rented by companies in New York, Philadelphia,
Chicago, and St. Louis.

M.S. (Sydney, C. B.\—1. Guesses received and filed:
2. September 8, 1836, fell on Thursday. You write a
fair business hand.

J. N. (New York.)—Full information regarding Goop
News Humane Society will be found in next issue. The
instructions must be carried out to the letter.

W. J. G. (Mansfield, Ohio.)\—Exchange column, Mail
Bag, and other departments are free to all our readers.
Send your notice and it will appear in its turn.

H. C. H. (Port [Chester, 'N. 'Y..—Read “Short Talks
With the Boys” in No. 44 Goop News for full instrue-
tions how to enlist on the training skip Minnesota.

J. W. M.—While we cannot make use of the drawing
you submitted, ;we think it shows you have talent
ween only requires developing to make a successful
artist.

Belle D. (Ogden City, Utah.)—The letters “R. 8. V. P.’
at the bottom of an invitation to a party or a dinner
te nb laa emegpe s'il vous plait” or “answer if you
please.

B. 0. (Columbus, Ohio.)—It has been said that the
dramatic writer is born, not made. By sheer peu a
man may become a painter, a sculptor, a musician, but
never a dramatic author.

J. E. F. (Waco, Tex.)—1. It is Necersay to have a
complete set of coupons to entitle you to three books.
eee numbers will be sent, postpaid, on receipt of
price.

A. W. F. (Birmingham, Ala.)—We had nothing to do
with ‘the advertisement you read in the paper. You
should write again to the name advertised as your first
letter may have gone astray.

W. A. L.—1.The Russian language is said to be one
of the most difficult languages to master. 2. We, are

leased to learn jyou like stories by Walter Morris. 3.

our newsdealer can order any song you desire from
his news company.

Bernadott (Salt Lake City, Utah.)}—In the Navy you
cannot enlist for less than five years. Write the
commandant of the Navy ‘Yard at Brooklyn, Boston,
Philadelphia, San Francisco, Pensacola, or Norfolk,
Va., fora berth.

 

J._K. (Northboro, Mass.)—We will commence in a few
weeks anew story by Edward §. Ellis which will in-
struct you about Iceland. The book on ventriloquism
will be sent you on receipt of ten cents. Send stamps
if you like.

R. L. (Providence, R. 1.)—1. Healthy living, perfect
cleanliness, and plenty of fresh air are the best _re-
cipes we can give you for aclear complexion. 2. Inint
ious? Certainly; any painting is, except that whic
comes from Nature’s palette.

B. I. L. (Madison, Wis.)—The most’ eastern a iy
in the United States is Quoddy tHead, Me., the mos
northern point, Barrow, Alaska, the most weasels
prey Island, Alaska, the most southern, Key West,
la.

J. A. G, (Detroit, Mich.)—1, Itis a question of OP
ion. 2. We have in our 8. & S. Manual Library @ ! y=
entitled, ‘“Short-Hand for Everybody,” whic: Mite to
sent you, postpaid, upon receipt of price. 3. Wri ‘der
the Electric Age, 5 pes St., New York. We cous!
your handwriting good.

H. A. M. (Braddock, Pa.)—There are now. forty-two
States in the Union, North Dakota, South Dakota, apt
tana and Washington were admitted in 1889; da on *
Wyoming in 1890. Your handwriting has a business: a
abe but it loses its beauty by using a lead Pe
cil.

S. J. B, (Memphis, Tenn.)~There were two kinds of
twenty-five cent pieces made in 1853, A premiu rter,
two dollarsis offered by coin dealers for the qu OID
1853, without the darts on each side of the date, coins,
book giving name of dealer, and illustrations 0 ®
sent on receipt of price, ten cents.

-two

G. H. S. (a Crosse, Wis.)—1. There are fort at
States and six Territories. 2. The names of t ° sjaska,
tories are New Mexico, Utah, Indian, Arizona, inmbia
and Oklahoma. Some books call District of Co fifteen
a Territory. 3. The standard height of a boy ot less
years of ae is four feet eleven inches, weight 2
han eighty-seven pounds.

F. G (Ballston. Spa, N. Y.)—Summer ‘freckles ne
been removed by the following simple remedy, it stand
horse-radish into a cup of cold sour milk let times @
twelve hours, strain, and apply two or t rent tional
day. With regard to freckles that are constitu nd vice
and permanent it is impossible to give any
which will be of value.

; 1] her
A. R. (New York.)—1. Queen Isabella did not 84-0),
jewels but merely pledged them to fit out three vessels
for Columbus. 2. Columbus died May 2, 96, 1513.
The Pacific Ocean was discovered September ave but
4. Your writing is very good for a girl of your ecessful
you are in a fair way to spoil it by your unsu
attempts at shading.
m you

Miss Leo (Albany, N.. Y.)—1. We think the ;
submit shows some talent, but we will give ou friend
advice not to write with paleink on chocolate ©,
paper, 2. Reading, pose and grammer iota white
sary. 3. Manuscript should be written 0D .P iscap sizes

yaper any size, or ordinary manilla cut to foo re well
our handwriting is very neat, and the  attiney
put together. We admire the subject very muc)-

: me
7. K.(St. Paul, Minn.)—“Oregon” is tated, by tino,”
authorities to be derived from the Spanish wv the
“wild marjoram,” which grows fabundan The river
Pacific coast. “Missouri” means “muddy jy mudd
of that name being noted for its exceedingy in esota
current at certain seasons of the year. | A) unrissis-
means “cloudy water, or sky-tinted water.
sippi” means the “great, or long river.
Dry

re
Violet.—Perfumes are made in many, ways. ‘ai the ike,
fumes, such as incense, sachet powders, 4n pounded or

are simply*gums, resins, dried herbs, & Cte Mostly dis-

ground to powder. Liquid perfumes ar vith appara. :

uilled from the difterent parts of plants i

us especially adapted to the purpose, , m
are usually called essential oils, Those made frre
flowers, and principally used on the handke two other
mostly obtained, not by distillation, but in ) and ab-
ways, called maceration (steeping or soaking:
sorption.

we
Spark (Syracuse, N. Y.)—1. In our Nugget Lira aire
have seven comic stories by ;the author ree that we
about. Send us your full name and address . -
can forward catalogue, 2. Between thirty 4
five years of axe. 3. ‘Two hundred and fifty 07
A good size is5x 80r8x12._ It is simply ® tblish the
taste or circumstances. 6. We could not P ome, time.
ae ae ne have oe bite we can ou {08 ne able -
0 no iscouraged, however, as yO! 0
find a purchaser if you persevere. 6, ‘The authors ¥
mention reside in Brooklyn. red ®
e
Ella D.ADayton, Ohio.)—1. Buttermilk is consiient it
very healthy beverage, there being no. eviden gysteD),
ever thins the blood or in any way injures mitt. and
2. Foods containing a large percentaxe 0°) dtare i:
starch have a tendency to make flesh ; but, there is
tends one to be spare and delicate-lookin#, any 4P;
nothing that will increase the avoirdupols i vg ood
reciable extent. As long as a pergon eB of ye-
ealth, it is nonsensical to cast about for ve, 3, With
ducing or increasing the weight of the bo nul food,
plenty of exercise and an indulges in ne with gome
any ordinary human being, unless afflicte a complex
organic-disease or ailment, will have a ce
ion and bright eyes.

mitted
H. H. 0, (Chicago, 1.)—1. The paper you SUtcyipt
is all right as regards size for writing woul a
There is no regulation size. 2. Five dollars ters receiv?
fair price if accepted. 3. Prominent wa stories.
one thousand dollars and upward for sera Jace & thin
Do not fold manuscript, lay it flat an Prat it will
board or cardboard at top and bottom 80 = 1. yalua
not be damaged in transit. If the manuscry many
blesend it by express. 5. Most writers Sensiderae
script written on typewriter which saves co itor. .
time and trouble ,to the editor and ot Youd BO
Very few authors write short-hand, must writ?
benefit much except to take notes as they proval. i
the story all out before jsubmitting for 4Mii1. pape
You have more chance for success with 4 sketches bd
than a weekly. 8 We cannot accept rape time-
we are loaded up with all we can use for 80 os”
m0

“ Ja

Cadet. Carey (New York,)—1. The “Jess? i Log
and “Yonnger Brothers” stories append price
Cabin Library Nos. 4, 49, 50, 57, 61, 71, aUG 1%) “we
cents each. For sale by all newsdealers. the Unite
to place Goop News in every household - the outlay’
States and Canada. 3. We do not think © Sout t
will ever be pardoned. . We agree with te taste fr,

oys character. is plain in yor oe ters
music denotes refinement. 5. Address y rus I be
as before when you write us again. Sitch St.,
much better to call personally at No. 11 an i press
York, for full information regarding PO) ners pu
type,’ paper, “etc. 7. ‘Khere are forty-two Te apers 3D
lished in Kansas City, Mo. ‘The principe dnd News
renee Oisy are, J ournal, Thee, ae i address

is not necessary to write the er.
the publisher. ° 8. Your letter is well put toxeth

[Several co:nmunications left over to be answer
week.}

Military Matter

ne
: r or
ALL readers of Goop News who wish to se formerly
ize companies of the U. §. Volunteer var pl co
Sherman, Hamilton, etc., in this State a ‘AC
municate with Colonel Geo. W. Dufrane,
aera Sai TAD OSnare Ue of New Yor
roadway, New York city. Ou
address F’.’Howard, 209 West 2ist St., New York.

—_———_~-0-———__
Read announcements of new §
page 744.

 

he
done of

 

«

a> ae 6a

 

Qapre—D ww

GoD