= SG tae = * ae. es SLas i ee Ss BE aes: a eee x ee = s Se % wa = = ; Hi ryt \\\ OME WITH ME.” SAID mf TEL N\} ’ k PERRY PROTESTED, BUT THE STEAMER WAS UNDER WAY, AND HE WAS SAILING FROM HIS NATIVE LAND. hat thing’ and wash the dishes. I do| me out of my place. It was rather) any sort of work I could get to do,” re- don’t lose nor spend the change,” contin- On sone’ ut Iam willing to confess ; 4 | thoughtless in him to do so, but I suppose | plied Perry, shrugging his shoulders like | ued Mrs. Kidley, sharply, as she handed ake kindly to this sort of} he couldn’t very well help it.” a Frenchman, and his own mother had | him the bill. Monn don; t “But you have been loafing about the} been a French woman. “WhenI got so0|_ Perry took the bill, and left the house. , I’. 8aiq M ake kindly to any sort of} house for three weeks, and you might as] tired I couldn’t walk any more, I came | He still had a smile on his face, but he Sang VOrkeg . Kidley. well help me do my work as stretch | home to rest myself. : was as discontented a fellow of seventeen tat y aia e's or Mr. Carbon for two | yourself on the sofa,’ snapped the woman. “You are a_ lazy fellow; that’s the | as ever stood on two feet; but the French Man Was ja ver maké any complaint| “I have walked every day in those three | whole of it. Now go to the store, and | suavity he had inherited from his mother Thy f zy?” demanded Perry. “It| weeks about eight hours a day, looking | get me four pounds of sugar. I haven’t| kept him above the discomforts of his situation. His father had been a machin- 4ult that he died, and threw | for a situation, and I have offered to do| any change; here is a five-dollar bill, and SNe ae steamer gwegeenntoe boesiion vote me rons iba ae —- piisnea amenities pied Dh ah waa? b eriseiebeeenaohe 402 ist, and his employer had sent him to France on business, and he married Blanche Coupeau, who was Perry’s mother. But she had died three years beforeffand he had married the present Mrs. Kidley. He was a thriving man, and had saved his money. He died two years before, and his son was not a favor- | ite with the step-mother. The boy had been. well educated, and had been a stu- | dent in the free academy. He had learned | French from his mother, and spoke it as: well as English. It had given him one} place, and he hoped it would give him} another; but so far it.had not. He went ! to the store, but before he had time to} purchase the sugar, a well-dressed gen- tleman of forty put his hand rather heavily on his shoulder near the door of the shop. Perry turned to see whoit was that saluted him thus familiarly. The gentle- man had a strange look in his eyes, and did not seem to be regular in all respects, but whether he was tipsy or. crazy, he could not determine. He had a good- sized valise in his hand, and an overcoat on his arm. “CGome with me, my boy,” said the gen- tleman. “Who are you, sir?” demanded Perry, bluntly. “Tf am Doctor Hillery, and I want you.” “What do you want of me?” “None of your business! Come with | me, I say.” “Wait a minute or two, and I will at- tend-to your case,” replied the young man. Without waiting for the consent of the strange gentleman, he went to the clerk behind the counter, and directed him to send the sugar to Mrs. Kidley, and re- turn the change from the bill to her. He was rather amused at the conduct of the gentleman who had spoken so impera- tively to him; it looked like an adven- ture, and he had the average taste of boys for something out of the common course. Dr. Hillery stood at the door of the store, twisting and squirming in a queer manner. He walked up to him, and the gentleman began to pitch into him somewhat after the fashion of his step-mother for leaving him as he had. “What’s your name?” demanded the doctor, sharply. “My name is Perry Kidley,” plied he. “You are Dr. Hillery; I am very happy to make your acquaintance, and hope we shall be royal good friends.” “We shall not unless you obey me bet- ter than you did when’ you left me,” ad- ' ded the doctor with a frown. “T had to send a message to a great uncle in China; but it has gone now, and I am at your service, doctor,” laughed Perry. “Ah? Have youa great uncle in China?” asked the strange gentleman, his frown relaxing into a pleasant smile. “Yes, sir; Ihave sixteen great uncles in China; and one of them is the Em- peror of China, though he isn’t of much account.” “The Emperor your great uncle?” ex- claimed the doctor, making a movement as though he intended to embrace his new friend; but Perry dodged the demonstra- tion. “I am delighted to know you.” “Thank you, sir; I will give you a let- ter of introduction to any of my great uncles in China if you like.” “Tam greatly obliged to you, and we will call upon the whole of them in due time. But it is time to start,” added the doctor, nervously. “T should say that it was; but perhaps you will not object to telling me where we are going,” suggested Perry. : , “T do object, for there is a conspiracy against me, and I must defeat it. Now, call a carriage.” Perry obeyed, and when it came to the door, he helped the gentleman into it, put his valise in front of him, and was about to leave, when the doctor told him to get into the carriage. Perry did not know what to make of his companion. He did not smell of liquor, but he seemed to be! able to take care of himself. He was a rather small man, and the young feliow was sure he could handle him if he be- came obstreporous. When Perry asked where he shourd tell the driver to_ take them, he reached forward and handed a bit of paper to the man on the box. He looked at it, and they drove off. Then the young man asked the doctor where they were going. Instead of answering him, his erratic companion drew from the inside of his vest a pocket-book, which rag filled with new bank bills. They were of large denomination most of them, and his companion judged that there was not less than a thousand dollars in the pile. “You are the pearl of great price, my lad,‘and here are ten ten-dollar bills in payment for your services,” said the doc- | tor, tendering him the money. He took it; but he did not intend to keep it. | There would be an end to the adventure, | and he would return it at the proper, time. The carriage conveyed them to the foot of Morton street, where the French steamer La Bourgogne was all, ready to leave the wharf, The doctor paid the GOOD NEWS. f . driver, and then hastened on_ board. Perry remonstrated, but hecarried the valise on board, Before he knew it the steamer was under way, and he was: sail- ing away from his native land. He pro- tested, but the doctor would not let him leave him for an instant, By this time he understood that his companion was harmlessly insane. The doctor was an LL.D. They went to Havre. Then Perry spent some of his money in eabling to the police of New York that Dr. Hillery was there. But the rest and the sea voyage had produced a change in the malady of the doctor, and in Havre he was quite rational.. Perry { “You!” exclaimed Zeke, with undis- guised contempt in his tones and looks. “What do you hunt—squirrels?” “Well, Ihave never hunted anything | yet,” said Guy, whe thought it best. to camp.’ tell the truth; “but I want to be a buffalo hunter like you; so I hape that we shall be fast friends, and that you will teach me all you know. Will you?” “Humph!” grunted Zeke. “Let’s go to “How far is it from here?” asked Guy. “A matter of five mile, mebbe. I got | tired of waitin’, an’ comeup to see if thar was anybody goin’ to fetch me any to- | backer.’ took the best of care of him, and begged | most tired out with riding, and should be | glad to walk if the horses did not go so | fast.” him to write to his friends at home. He did so; but he decided to travel for a few weeks, and Perry went with him; and he was invaluable, because he could speak French and the doctor could not, In fact, they became fast friends, and when they returned a month later, the learned man’s family were very grateful to him. They were wealthy people, and the sci- entist found the young man so useful on account of his knowledge of French, that he employed him as his secretary, at a handsome salary. He had been absent “Five miles?” echoed Guy. .“I am al- “Let ’em go,” said Zeke. “I'll walk | with you. The mar’ knows the way, and the other’l] foller.” Guy was glad to act upon this sugges- tion. . While he was dismounting the hunter picked up his rifle and examined it with a critical eye. Guy was astonished at the ease with which he drew it up to his face, and the steadiness with which he held it while glancing along the bar- about six weeks, and when he called on| rel. his step-mother he showed her that his pockets were full of money, though he gave her none. Perry is likely to become a scientist himself. —_— _~+- 0 -e- Wy Hares, the Runa, memes drones By HARRY CASTLEMON, Author of ‘‘A Sailor in Spite of Himself,” ‘True to his Colors,” ‘Frank, the Young Naturalist,” | “Frank in the Woods,” ‘The Steel Horse,” | ; | hunter proceeded to load the rif “Frank on the Mountains,” ‘“‘The Rod and Gun Club,” “Snowed Up,” etc, at Goce _(“ Guy HARRIS, THE RUNAWAY,” was commenced in No. 16. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.] ent Seat CHAPTER XXI. THE BUFFALO HUNTER. IN S Guy straightened up in his sad- | yh dle he took a good look at the man LS" who had so suddenly appeared be- | a “> fore him. There was no need that , he should ask who he was, for he knew, | by his words of greeting, that he could +be none other than Zeke, the buffalo hunter. He was the first hunter Guy had ever seen, and, of course, he gazed at him with no little interest. He was not very favorably impressed greased side down with the man’s appearance, for he was certainly the roughest and most repul- sive specimen of humanity that Guy had ever put eyes on. He could form no idea of the expression of his features, for his face was so effectually concealed by thick, bushy whiskers that nothing but a pair of eyes and a low, retreating forehead could be seen. His hair, coarse and matted, hung down upon his shoulders, and his hands were terribly soiled and :begrimed. He would have: been a tall man if he had stood erect, but he walked almost half-bent, in an attitude similar to that a wild beast might assume when about to spring upon its prey, and moved along in a shambling, loose-jointed man- ner, as if he had searcely energy enough to keep himself from falling to pieces. His garments were a strange mixture of the civilized and savage, and Guy thought they ought long ago to have been replaced by better ones. He wore a tattered slouch hat on his head, held a rifle in his hand, and carried a powder-horn and bullet- pouch over his shoulder. Taken alto- gether, he was very unlike Guy’s beau ideal of a hunter. “Say, you!” repeated Zeke, impatiently ; “This yourn?” asked Zeke. “Yes; I bought it in ’Frisco—paid fifteen dollars for it, and haven’t had time to shoot it yet. Suppose you try it, and see if it is a good one. Here are the bullets, powder and caps in my game- bag. It carries a ball large enough to kill a buffalo—doesn’t it?” “Sartin.” “Well, I hope you will give me a chance to try if on one some day, will you?” “Humph!” was the only answer Zeke deigned to give. In accordance with Guy’s request the is and as the boy knew that it was one of the first things he must learn, he kept a. close | watch of his movements. Zeke first took from the gamé-bag a bullet, which he placed in the palm of his hand, and then from the horn poured powder enough in it to cover it. This done he put the bullet into his mouth, and after pouring the powder down the barrel and hitting the weapon a knock or two on the ground to drive it into the tube, began searching in Guy’s game-bag for something. Failing to find the article, whatever it was, he took from the string which hung suspended from his button-hole a smal piece of thick cloth, which Guy saw was greased on one side. This the hunter | placed over the muzzle of the rifle—the | ; | | | put the bullet upon it, and drove it home with the ramrod. It was all done then except putting on the cap, and that occupied scarcely more than a second’s time. Taken altogether, it was a complicated operation, Guy thought, and he did not know wheher he could remember all the details or not. He found that he had for- gotten one thing, and that was the cloth which the hunter wrapped around the | bullet. No doubt that was the “patching” he had often read about. When the rifle was loaded the hunter raised it to his shoulder and started down the trail, Guy following with his game-bag in one hand and Zeke’s rifle in the other. He was anything hut pleased at the manner in which his advances had been received, but still he was not dis- heartened by it. No doubt the hunter was wearied with his day’s work—Guy knew that he had been in the saddle ever since sunrise watching the cattle under his charge—and perhaps after the tobacco had had time to have its full effect, and Zeke had taken a good supper and smoked a pipe, he would be better natured. Then Guy could make another effort to work his way into “you got any tobacker? That's what Ij his good graces. want ter know.” While on the way to the valley in “Plenty of it,” replied Guy. “You'll! which Zeke’s camp was located, Guy had find it in the pack-saddle. Mr. Wilson thought you would want a good supply.” “Then why didn’t he send it afore?” growled the unter: “He sent it as soonas he could. He came from ’Frisco only yesterday.” Zeke leaned his rifle against the near- est tree, plunged his hands into the pack- saddle, and while he was searching for frequent opportunities to witness his companion’s skill with the rifle. Squirrels were abundant, and the hunter, without leaving the trail, succeeded in bringing down a dozen or more, and every one of them shot through the head. This was Guy’s first lessson in hunting, and he watched every move Zeke made. He now saw how the man came by that the tobacco, repeatedly ran his eyes over | stealthy, crouching style of pe c the face and figure of the boy, who seemed | which he had noticed. He ha to be a great curiosity to him. founda plug of the coveted weed, and thrust a good portion of it into his cheek. | After he had chewed on it a while the effects became percertible. The disecon- tented, almost savage look his face had worn gave place to an expression a trifle more amiable, and when he spoke his voice sounded more like a human being’s, and Jess like the growl of an angry bear. “Who be you?” he demanded, “I never seed you in these parts afore.” practiced | it so often while in pursuit of game that He said nothing, however, until he had , it had become a part of his nature, l At the foot of the mountain the woods terminated, and, of course, there were no squirrels to be found on the open plain. | By the time they reached this point the | | we’pon. as. he had ever drawed to his tobacco, aided perhaps by the fine shoot- ing he had enjoyed, was beginning to tell upon the hunter, who showed: a_ disposi- tion to throw off his reserve altogether. He found his way to Guy’s heart by assur- ing him that his. rifle was as “fine a “No,” said. Guy, “you neyer did. My | face,” and followed it. up by inquiring name is Harris, and I used to be a sailer;: very particularly into the boy’s history. ' And Guy was quite willing to tell him but I’m a hunter now,” \ everything he wanted to know. He told him how long he had beens away from home, why he had left it, what "he done since he had been adrift im thé world, and what he wanted to do next. Being anxious to make a friend of the hunter he concealed nothing, not even ne fact that he had twenty-five dollars ™ money, which he was willing to turB over to Zeke to be expended in any way the lates saw fit, so long as it benetited them »0th. ‘ The hunter became more and mores? terested as Guy proceeded, and th mention of the money and the sight of the purse the boy carried about his neck broke down the last barrier between them. SU denly stopping and facing Guy, he_ ex tended to him one of his huge, @W aws, : “Put it thar, pard,” said he. “I'll take you.” l- “Will you, really?” exclaimed Guys oe most beside himself with excitement @™ delight. . «“ Sartin I will. I’ve been a-lookin an some a-waitin’ fur two years in hopes fur feller would come along who would de t a chum, an’ here he is, come ab een You’re just the chap fur me. I'll ae you the best buffaler-hunter that Kan t ever seed. I’ll larn you to ride an shoo" an’ make a man of you.” “And «will you teach me how 1 fight Indians and catch wild horses?” Guy. “In course I will.” 3 “How far is Kansas from here?’ “Wal, it’s a right smart piece. “Shall we go there on horseback? “Sartin.” “And camp out on the way?” “In course.” “When shall we start?” ight. “To-morrow night!’ repeé “Why, Mr. Wilson told me that hired a man without making him PrneD ise to give at least a month’s noble he wanted to quit.” a ed “What doI care for Wilson? does Zeke, contemptuously. A free hunter on.” what he likes. I can trust you, ree “Certainly you can.” : “ *Cause Xe I can’t, I don’t want any thing to do with you,” said Zeke og” “Oh, you can trust me, I assure ¥ th declared Guy, earnestly, fearing tha nis hunter was about to go back from dot” promise. “What do you want Me © + an “T’ll tell you arter supper. ve B my idee in my head an’ want to put 0 don’t thinkin’ cap an’ think it out; 60 4's go say nothin’ to me till I speak. Le a few an’ eat some of them squirrels. D, ffalet days from now we'll be livin 0? “asin, hump an’ marrer bones, an’ hat 8 st the I tell you! I say agin, you're J© feller I’ve been a-lookin’ fur.’ and 8° ‘rhe hunter relapsed into silenc®; | sides did Guy, who marched along by aA rifle and although he carried a pondero" of on his shoulder and a heavy,*. if he squirrels in his hand, he walked pat he were treading on air. He forgot 3 4 had that day ridden forty mi restoWn rough-going horse. He did not nis thought upon his weary body, the fu" mind was too fully occupied, W’ + gaye ture. In a few hours more, he keP ou d ing to himself, his bright dreams “ight all be realized. He had got on © aid be side of the hunter at last—there ordi as no doubt of that. Zeke was as © in facts one could possibly be—more store mets than any man he had ever nO orienta Perhaps if Guy had been more oe woul in the ways of the world t < mad have aroused his suspicions fis jpter him a little more guarded 1 that cor course with his new frien@- by foliar tion was necessary we can See, j ing Zeke for a moment ™ 1 6 tions. outer te “Tf I hain’t found a way myselias diffikilty now, I’m a_buffale® pectit, thought the hunter. “This om elcome leetle cub wouldn’t a-been more joadl to my camp if he’d been a nangel ugh t¢ down with pipes an’ tobacker vous ti rd do me all my life. I’m mons") oo Dar of herdin’ ¢attle, ‘cause 16% oath, rs work. T’ve done it fura hull ® get all I’ve got to show fur. it 3% “jad, pas The rifle I used, the yO con ee blankets, all b’long to W ye me oa got to be paid fur. It'll ping 1 Meno months longer to ‘arn every t to pe an’ I had oughter be on my jougbt Yat prairy now. I had kinder, ‘- put mebbe I’d steal the hull iit 4 o do with it, but I’m a’most afeat heels Wilson, he’s lightnin’ om have all ick his dander’s riz, an’ he’d D8 "a5 qv ‘ settlers in the valley arter ™ a sw that it would a a feller 8 on De an’ if they ketched me—— aT it Here Zeke threw his head oetion wipe right shoulder and made @. ding his hand as if he were W1? about his neck and hauling ‘ with it—a’ proceeding whic “T didn’t say nothin’, 5% “I know it,” said Guy, say anything, ejther, nl ae iter look at him in great surprs4 tne Mayda and oe. Zeke shifted Guy’s rifle to his other 5 oulder and went on with his soliloquy. Ow this cub has got a good fittin’ ut, a fine rifle, huntin’-knife, blankets, fae Powder’n lead enough to last me as th a$ Laramie anyways. When I get i a the twenty-five dollars he’s got will Hy Me more powder’n lead, an’ the trad- +8 Will advance the other things I want. hee Steal everything he’s got an’ put aS easy as fallin’ off a log. He can’t — me up an’ ketch me, an’ he ain’t - ho friends to do it fur him. I would | Of this very night, only [ must. first hike things squar’ with Wilson, to keep Boi ,O'n my trail. Now how am I Pinki.> do it? That’s »what I pat my os im cap on fur, an’ that’s what I nt to think out.” va ile Zeke was turning this problem in his mind he and his young com- ate arrived at his camp, which was dle sc under an oak tree near the mid- hay. a beautiful valley. Guy would not hot hown when he reached it had he Braye his own horse and the mare a show? hear a third, which was picketed Was be distance from the tree, for there of a ut little to indicate the existence blanks? ~vothing, in fact, but a pair of tom ets, a small piece of beef hanging ane of the branches of the oak, and the « embers and ashes which marked dle Pot where a fire had once been kin- r -e hunter at once took possession of lankets, where he lay gazing in- t ; Fai ely inte the branches above his head, u se g . i y ot 2 a ; Order y set about putting the camp in ut hi Ab was novel business to him, lazy : liked to do it, and Zeke, being too Solnte lift his finger unless it was ab- that h Y hecessary, was perfectly willing (j € should. be Uy first led the mare to the tree, and 4 the work of unloading the pack- ae The supplies, consisting for the tobaeeort of coffee, tea, sugar, flour, and tree CO, were piled about the roots of the Slight covered with branehes, as a any Protection from the weather and alone oO Wling beast that might happen The during the hunter’s absence. Saddle. he relieved the mare of the pack- trom 1°: removed the saddle and_ bridle both i Own horse, and after staking out ro 1€ animals and arranging his bed, i Ceeded Supper, foun a ta thorough search of the camp he done qr cmething which had evidently had uty as a coffee-pot, and when he Co, Ned it with water and set it on the to do’ © stopped, not knowing what else he ae Tortillas he could not make, and Ning = NOt yet learned the art of skin- thes Squirrels and cooking them before re on spits. However, he could get Supple rout the squirrels. He had a tha’, Of eatables in his game-bag, and to kindle a fire and make ready tion ld bread and meat, with the addi- him ofa cup of hot coffee, would make a Any) 000 supper. If the hunter wanted himaing he could get up and coek it Satigh; waving arranged his table to his ing, tion, poured some of the coffee thon pr oP which the ranchman_ had been bag -tful enough to put into his game- hig gvith luncheon, and settled) back on Justic Ow, believing that he could’do full outht 9 the meal, not having’ tasted a After ‘ since leaving the ranch shortly All aylicht. Watch ese movements had _ been closely 8 ful by Zeke, who was by no means he D eh. Occupied with his meditations as atin €nded to be. Seeing that Guy was teligh> the bread and meat with evident Joined © crawled slowly off his bed and 6 him at his meal. that »S%Pper disappeared rapidly after foog’ “eke using both hands to crowd the Sp 0 his mouth, and emptying Guy’s thingy? & draught whenever he was the j,2; In avery short space of time Sight St of the bread and meat was out of Zeke the coffee-pot emptied. nother’ 2 grunt of satisfaction, but Dine a hing to say until he had filled his the fi nd lighted it with a brand from frat - 1en, between his long, delib- 5 Ufis, he managed to utter the “Gop Bot it.” ‘Tn, What?” asked the boy. eg What we'll do. I’ve thought i G a otha ” ley ight, pard,” he that if he was going to be a hunter Bling t as well begin to use the lan- Sut. » Of one. “What are they? Spit ’em Zeke, “an’ ~ it ; © me long, nuther. In the fust ek’ to S pose Wilson told you to go 1° arrow, didn’t he? I thought net inste: you go back ’cordin’ to orders, pntin? 24 of takin’ yourown gun an’ Hy2Ve "lg with you, take mine an’ ie rigg wen. _ Understand? You see, Ve mot things b’longin’ to it that $0n’s, t ere ain’t mine; they’re Wil- 0 Work i - €m outen the store agreein’ Reeg boitar, eman’ the other things I ake me back tothe other side . said Guy, who be Won? en do that,” said Place, ‘ak |how Zeke could have | somever. | have to { * | 0’ the mountains whar I b’long an’ whar I’ll stay if I onct git thar agin, I bet you. But if I stop to ’arn everything I want it will take me two months more, an’ by that time we must be among the buffa- ler, if we’re goin’ to get any hides this season. You’ve got things enough and money enough to last us till we get to Laramie, an’ thar I can get what else we want from the traders. One rifle an’ one | blanket will last us till then.” “Will one horse be enough?” asked Guy. “No; we must have a hoss apiece, an’ I’ve got ’em—that one that I ’arned from Wilson, an’ I’ve bought another from a feller livin’ up the valley.” It occurred to Guy right here to ask bought another horse, seeing that he had no. money and had been working for Mr. Wilson ever | | since he had |country, but before he could speak the | hunter went on: been in that part of the “Now you go back to-morrow mornin’, like I was tellin’you, an’ take the rifle an’ all the other things that b’longs to Wilson, an’ give ’em to him an’ tell him thar’s his things—I don’t want *em—an’ he must send a man down here to onct to take care of these yere cattle, ’cause I hain’t agoin’ to stay no longer. You needn’t say nothin’ else to him, how- Don’t tell him of the bargain mean’ you has made, but when it comes dark you slip away from the house an’ meet me at the water-tank. You know whar that spoutin’ well is, don’t you?” “Yes,” said Guy, “I saw it last night.” “Wal, you come thar as soon as it comes dark an’ I’ll be on hand with two hosses—this one an’ another, an’ all we’ll do will be to put off. Under- stand?” “Yes,” replied Guy, “I understand all.” it “Arter you leave here in the mornin’ | I'll go an’ get my other hoss that I was a tellin’ you of,” continued Zeke. “You see the reason why I am leavin’ Wilson in this way, an’ without sayin’ nuthin’ to him, is ’cause I agreed to give him notice when I wanted to quit, but I can’t afford to waste a month’s time layin’ around here doin’ nothin’, when the buffaler is comin’ in by thousands an’ waitin’ to be shot. Understand, don’t you?” Yes, Guy was sure he understood the hunter’s plans and intentions perfectly, and Zeke was equally certain he did not, and so he repeated them again and again, until the boy knew them by heart. After that he launched off. into glowing de- scriptions of buffalo hunts, and told of fights with Indians and bears, and ad- ventures with wild horses, until Guy was almost beside himself with excite- ment and impatience. Then Zeke said he was tired, and crawled back to his blankets, but Guy tended the fire and sat by it for two hours longer, thinking of the future; and when he went to sleep it was to dream over the thrilling seenes the hunter had just described to him. CHAPTER XXII. BUSTED AND DISGUSTED. HE next morning, after a hearty 2 breakfast, during which he listened I’) once more to Zeke’s plans and in- ee structions, Guy mounted his horse, and, led by the old clay-bank, set out for Mr. Wilson's ranch. The journey did not seem nearly so long and tiresome now as it did the day be- fore, for he had something beside his bodily aches and pains to think of. He had seen a live hunter, had made a friend of him, and by that time to-morrow, if nothing happened to prevent, he would be on the way to his hunting-grounds. Dreaming of the glorious life he was so soon to commence made the way seem short to him. About four o’clock'in the afternoon he drew up with his little train im’ front of Mr. Wilson’s house, and found that gen- tleman waiting for him, “Wal, you done it, didn’t you?” ex- claimed the ranchman, as Guy swung himself from the saddle, “an’ didn’t get lost, nor throwed, nuther. Whose rifle have you got thar?” “Zeke’s—or rather your’s,” said Guy. “Zeke doesn’t want it, for he can’t' stay long enough to‘earn it. He’s going back to his hunting-grounds, and wants you to send a man down to relieve him,” “Oh, he does, does he?” exclaimed Mr. Wilson. ‘“Whar’s your huntin’ kit?” “T left it with Zeke. He wants to try the rifle.” ; “Wal, if you hain’t the most confidin’ boy I ever see in all my born days, I don’t want a cent,” said the ranchman. “T told you that you’d find him a mighty pal- averin’ sort of a feller, an’ I thought that Would put you on your guard, You’ll never see them things of your’n agin. Zeke’s gettin’ ready to run away. I can see that plain enough; but if he takes any of my property with him, ef it’s even so much as a bar of lead, I'll. have all the constables in the valley after him in | five dollars out of pocket. |nol have been under any apprehensions. GOoonD NEWS. the shake of a buck’s tail. He’s ’arned a hoss since he’s been here, and that’s all he can take with him. I’ll ride down my- self, to-morrow, an’ see what he means | 2? by such actin’. Mr. Wilson’s words made Guy rather | uneasy. He did not want to doubt the hunter—Zeke had been so very cordial and so profuse in his promises of friend- ship and assistance that the boy had implicit faith in him—but still he began to think that he had been rather hasty in trusting him. If Zeke ran away with his hunting-kit, he would be just thirty- But he need The hunter certainly intended to possess himself of all Guy’s property, but he wanted at the same time to get his hands on the twenty-five dollars the boy carried in his monk-bag. Mr. Wilson began fishing up from the capacious depths of the pack-saddle the things Zeke had stowed away. there, and Guy thought he looked a little disap- pointed when he found that his property had all been returned to him. The hun- ter, knowing the disposition of the man with whom he had to deal, had sent back everything, The hours between four o’clock and dark passed away very slowly. Knowing that he had many a mile of hard riding yet to do before he could go to sleep, Guy refreshed himseif with a hearty supper, and then lay down on a bench under the porch. He grew very restless and impa- tient as the appointed time drew near, and although he longed for its arrival, he almost dreaded to have it come, for if Zeke broke his word, there was another bright hope dashed to the ground. It began to grow dark at last, and Guy stepped down from the porch, and walked slowly toward the “spouting well,” as Zeke had called it, looking back every few steps to make sure that he was not followed. He was not obliged to wait even a mo- ment at the water-tank, for his new friend, faithful to his promise, was there with two horses. Guy was greatly relieved. “Hello, pard!” said he. “I’m glad you have come, for I began to feel a little shaky. Mr. Wilson told me that I’d never see my things again.” “You got that money with you?” asked Zeke. “Of course I have.” “Whar is it?” “In my monk-bag around my_ neck. Have you got my rifle and other things?” “Sartin. We couldn't well travel clear to Kansas without ’em, I reckon. So Wilson tried to make you believe I was a-goin’ back on you, did he? What else did he say?” “He says he is going to ride down to see you to-morrow, and find out what you meant by such actions.” “All right. That will give us a hull day the start of him, if he tries to foller us. Here’s your hoss.” Guy was aching in every bone and mus- cle after his long ride (eighty miles in two days was quite an achievement for a boy who had never ridden on _ horse- back before), and it was only after con- siderable trouble and some assistance from the hunter that he succeeded in climbing into his saddle. It was hard work, too, to keep up with Zeke, who at once put his horse into a gallop and went head. as if he were in a great hurry. He never drew rein, even long enough to speak to Guy, until midnight, and then the only reason he stopped was _ because the moon went down and it was: too dark to travel. He and Guy stretched themselves out under a tree beside the road without lighting a fire, and slept soundly until morning.. At the first peep of day they ate a little of the dried ore f with which Zeke had filled Guy’s game-bag, and then resumed their rapid ride, halting only for a few minutes at noon to rest their horses and eat a hasty luncheon. Guy was fast giving out, in spite of the excitement which had thus far kept him up, and when, just as the sun was sink- ing, they entered a little glade sur- rounded by a wilderness. of trees and rocks, he doggedly threw himself from his horse and declared that he could not ride a step farther. “How far are we from Mr. Wilson’s?” he asked. “A matter of sixty or seventy miles, mebbe,” replied Zeke. “Well, that added to eighty makes a hundred and forty or fifty miles that I have ridden on horseback during the last three days,” groaned Guy. “An iron boy couldn't stand more. I don't see the need of so much haste, anyhow.” “Thar was need of it,” said Zeke, “but I reckon we’re out of danger now.” Guy, not being aware that they had been in any danger, could not imagine what Zeke meant; but he was too tired to ask any questions. “T reckon we'd best stop here two or three days an’ take a good rest and hunt,” continued Zeke. “I'll give you 403 | : Ae ° some lessons in shootin’ and throwin’ the lasso. It won’t take me long to learn you to be jest as good a hunter as I am; an’ if thar’s any a-goin’ that can beat me, I never seed ’em. Now lay down an’ [’ll go out an’ shoot something fur sup- per.” “I don’t want any supper,” said Guy. “All I want is rest and sleep. If the sec- ond mate of the Santa Maria had been pounding me with a rope’s end for an hour, I couldn’t be any nearer used up than I am now.” 7 Zeke became very officious all at once. He raked together a pile of leaves under the shelter of a huge rock, placed Guy’s saddle at one end of it for a_ pillow, and when the boy had stretched his weary limbs upon the couch thus hastily made up for him, the hunter threw his poncho and blanket over his shoulders, and tucked them snugly about him. Before the operation was completed Guy. was sound asleep. He slept in blissful ignorance of what was passing near him. Once _ he thought that the blankets were pulled cautiously off his shoulders and a hand thrust into his pocket; but so firmly were his senses locked in slumber that he was not fairly aroused by these movements. He knew nothing for twelve long hours, and then he was awakened by the neighing of a horse. He started up, feeling very much re- freshed, but almost dropped back upon his bed again when he saw that his monk-bag had been turned inside out and was resting on his breast. His pockets, too, had been pulled out, and some of the articles they had con- tained were missing, while others were scattered about over the ground. His rifle, game-bag, and blankets had disappeared, and even Zeke and his horse were no- where to be seen. There were no signs that the hunter had kindled a fire during the night. He must have robbed Guy and made off as soon as the latter was fairly asleep. All he had left him was the clothes he had on his back, the horse he had ridden, and the saddle and bridle. Guy realized his situation the instant his eyes were fairly opened. Utterly dis- couraged at last, he threw himself back on the ground, wishing from the bottom of his heart that he was dead, “T’ye been robbed!” he kept saying to himself. “And here I am in these moun- tains without 2 bite to eat or a friend to help me! What shall I do! what shall I do!” Guy lay for fully an hour in a sort of stupor, from which he was aroused at last by the pangs of hunger. There was no need that he should stay there and starve, he told himself, while Zeke had been considerate enough to leave him a horse. Perhaps the animal could carry him to some human habitation. The ex- periment was at least worth a trial. The horse proved to be very uneasy, and Guy, being unaccustomed to such busi- ness, was nearly half an hour in putting the saddle and bridle on him. But at last he got everything fixed to his satis- faction, and climbing upon the animal's back, he started—he knew not whither. After trying in vain to find a road or trail leading from the glade, he plunged blindly into the woods, and during the next two days lived in a state of agony, both of body and mind, that I cannot de- scribe. He rode while daylight lasted without a mouthful to eat, and slept at night on the hard ground. Sometimes he would allow his horse to have his own way, believing that the animal’sinstinct would lead him out of the wilderness, and then again he would resume control of him, and try to find his own way out. How often during those two days did Guy tell himself that if he lived to get out of that scrape he would lose not, an hour in starting for the States; and if he once reached them he would never again be tempted to leave them. He had seen enough of the woods, and of the ocean, too. Other boys might think as they pleased, and story-tellers might write as they pleased about the joys, the ease and romance of a hunter's and a sailor’s life, but as for him, give him a quiet home on shore and among civilized people. At last, when Guy was so weak with fasting that he could scarcely keep his seat in the saddle, and so disheartened that he was more than once on the point of throwing himself under the nearest tree and resigning himself to his fate, his deliverance came, and so suddenly that it almost took his breath away. His horse, which during the last few hours: had been allowed to go where he pleased. plunged through an almost impassable thicket of bushes, carrying his rider into a broad, well-beaten road that led down the moun- tains. The animal seemed as delighted at this evidence of civilization as Guy did. No sooner was he fairly in the road than he broke into. a gallop, and in tess than five minutes brought his rider to a little tum- 404 ble-down shanty, where half a dozen min- ers were lounging on the porch. They all started up aud looked at Guy in amaze- ment, seemingly unable to make up their minds whether he was a live boy or a ghost. “Hello!” exclaimed one of the men, “who on earth are you, and where did you come from?” “T have been lost in the mountains for the last two days, and am almost starved to death,” answered Guy, in a faint voice. “Well I should say you were, if one can judge by your looks. Come in. Such as we’ve got you’re welcome to.” The man approached to assist Guy to dismount, and it was well he did so, for he was just in time to receive him in his arms. The boy was utterly overcome with weakness, and when he tried to swing himself from his saddle his head reeled, and he would have fallen to the ag if the man had not supported im. “He’s pretty near gone up!” said one of the miners, “but I guess a bit of some- thing will bring him around all right.” The speaker secured Guy’s horse, another assisted him into the house and seated him on a bench, a third brought from a cupboard an abundant supply of bread and meat, which he placed before him, and the others stood around, wait- ing with no little curiosity and impa- tience to hear his story. The miners had seen any number of hungry men since they had been in the mountains, but that was the first time they had ever seen food disappear so rapidly before a boy of Guy’s size. The latter was perfectly ravenous. He stopped at last, not because he had eaten enough, but because his host interfered and took away the eatables. “Thar, now,” said the man, “you’ve stowed away about enough of that grub for this time, and you had better let up or you’ll bust.” “T am busted already,” said Guy, wiping his lips; “busted and disgusted.” “Broke?” asked the man. “Flat as a pancake,” said Guy. “I am very grateful for your kindness, sir, and am sorry I cannot in some way repay it. I am able to go on now, and would be glad if you would show me the nearest road to the States.” “Going to leave Californy?” “Just as fast as horseflesh can carry me.” “But how did you come to get lost?” Guy’s story was a short one, and was soon told. Some of the miners seemed to believe it, while others looked a little in- credulous. But Guy did not care for that. He had the best of evidence that every word he uttered was the truth. While he was telling his story a horse- man drew up before the rade and dis- mounting, proceeded to give Guy’s steed a good looking over, closely examining a brand on the animal’s flank, and refer- ring occasionally to a note-book, which he drew from his pocket. The miners watched every move he made, now and then exchanging winks with one another, and looking toward Guy in a way the latter could not understand. (TO BE CONTINUED.) What Shall Our Boys Do? BY CHARLES BARNARD. No. 13.—The Printer. HE art of printing presents many >» attractions. The work is compara- tively light, the character of the work is continually changing, and it offers a good chance to display one’s skill, taste, and education. Practically, it consists in the art of arranging mova- ble types, figures, wood-cuts, and orna- mental lines and blocks in a certain order, and then taking impressions or copies on paper in various colored inks, his naturally divides the work into two kinds, type-setting or composing, and printing or press-work. To “com- ose” means to pick out the various let- ers or figures that are needed to make up the words and sentences that are to be printed, and to arrange them in their roper order. You have only to look at he pages of a book or newspaper, or study the posters on the walls of build- ings, to see that this work, that seems so simple and easy, is really a great art. Look at the head-lines and titles, the or- namental borders, pictures, and diagrams; observe how the lines are spaced off, how every letter has its proper place, and every bit and dot of the borders finds its right spot, and that the whole work is smooth, even, and handsome. Observe that all this is done with separate bits of metal and wood, each put in its place one at a time, and kept there by simply wedg- ing. one piece against another. ere is certainly an art that offers many attractions to the boy of studious has secured a good trade. GrooDpD habits, and it is not oe that it is always crowded. Let us see how a boy learns the art, and what his chances are for making a living or making a fortune. A boy intending to enter a printing-oflice must be able to read, write, and spell quickly and accurately. For the first year he will do little but read manuscript for the proof-reader. He begins by think- ing he knows how to read, and finds it takes twelve months to make a good reader. During this time he must keep his eyes open, watch the men around him, and pick up all he can concerning the work of type-setting. At the end of this time he takes his place before the “case” and begins the real work of the business. It is impossible to say how long it will take a boy to become a good compositor, but to learn all the branches he should spend at least five years at this work—six years in all. It seems along time, but every trade costs in time and labor, and the boy who honestly spends this time, and really becomes a first-rate printer, He is sure of fair wages and plenty of work so long as he sticks to the business Press-work is very different from com- posing, and pressmen are really quite a distinct class of workmen from composi- tors. Herea boy may begin as a “feeder,” and may begin by earning from $2 to $3 a week, and if wide-awakeand observing, can learn the whole business in about four years. This work is wholly devoted to the presses, and, while it is much more mechanical than tte ay , it admits of a great deal of skill and offers a fine chance for artistic talent. The types may be finely arranged, but if the pressmen does not know how to bring out the work the book will be spoiled, and all the work of the composer and engraver will go for nothing. The art of printing eye so many chances for skill that the pay given for the different kinds of work varies greatly. Taking the figures paid at a first-class place in New York, where the wages are always higher than in smaller towns and cities, we find that first-rate men earn from $18 to $30 a week, and sometimes more. Boys learning the business may get from $3 and upward, according to their skill and industry. Foremen in et gga Be re get from $25 to $40 a week, ee from $18 to $25 a week; heads of departments get from $18 to $20, and good job hands from $18 to $20, and ordinary hands $18 a week. This is all time-work. In newspaper offices, where the work is done by the piece, good men get 40 cents a thousand “ems,” or about $18 a week. In morning paper offices, where the work is chiefly done at night, the price is 50 cents per thousand “ems,” and quick compositors earn from $25 to $30 a week. The printing business demands a great deal of capital. The presses are costly and need steam-power, the ~ immense variety of type needed, and the great space occupied by the “plant,” or work- 8 op, compel the printer to spend a great deal of money before he can begin to take anything in. Many printers used to think that the best thing to do, as soon as one had learned the business would be to set u an office. Now all this is changed, and, unless a man has plenty of capital, or has achance in a large establishment, it is better to fit himself for high-class work and to depend on his wages. Many —— will tell you that the printing business is overdone, and that there are hundreds of men who cannot find anything to do. The fact is, these men can’t do any- thing. You may lay it downas a’ rule that first-class printers and first-class men of any kind never suffer long for want of work. There are seldom enough high-class men in this, or in any trade. It is the incompetent, the idle, the shirk- ers, the ignorant man and the dull boy who cry “bad times,” and say there is nothing to do. Of course, you are not one of these, and whether you become a printer, store-keeper, merchant, or me- chanic, you are bound to take a first-rate position; you mean to be somebody and earn good wages, whatever you do. a BROWN’'S AUNT. BY MAX ADELER, —2——_—— CENE in the Court of Common Pleas, ><, in the case of Duffer against Brown. -) Attorney for the prosecution (to ce’ Mr. Smith, the witness on the stand) : “Now go on with your testimony, Mr. Smith. You say that the defendant was living with his mother at the time?” Smith.—“ Yes, sir, with his mother; and his aunt——” Att’y.—“ With his aunt.” “No, with his mother.” “But you said he was living with his mother and his aunt,” mother and his NEWS. “What I meant was he was living with his mother, and his aunt——” “There you go again. You say he was living only with his mother. What do you mean then by referring to his aunt?” “Why, I meant that his auunt——” “That'll do,” broke in the judge, sav- agely; “never mind his aunt; his mother is enough.” “But,” said Smith, “his aunt was——’ “Never mind, sir, what his aunt was,” said the judge. “I merely wanted to explain that his aunt——” “Silence, sir! No more of this. Mr. Perry, go on with the examinaton.” “When you met the defendant,” asked the attorney, “what occurred?” “Why, he told me that he had no aunt——” “That aunt again!” growled the judge. “May it please your honor,” said the lawyer, “he says now the defendant told him he had no aunt.” “Oh, no,” said Smith, “you don’t under- stand. “Do you mean to say, sir, you did not swear that the defendant told you he had no aunt?” “He told me he had no aunt——” “Precisely. Told you that he had no aunt! And yet you said a moment ago that he was living with his aunt. What d’ you mean, sir? What d’ you mean?” “T say that he said he had no aunt liv- , ing—— “Ah! had no aunt living; that is it, is it? His aunt was dead, then?” “How? No trifling, sir.” “He said that he had no aunt living——” “Just so. None living.” “None living, excepting in Maryland.” “Ah, then, he had some aunts living in Maryland, had he?” “No, sir.” “What! are you insane, sir? Didn’t ee he had some aunts living in Mary- and” “Well, you see, I wouldn’t exactly say aunts.” “What would you say, then? Explain Had he one aunt in Maryland, “He had more than one.” “How many had he? Two?” “N-n-no! Not exactly two. You see—” “Your honor this man is trifling with us,” said the counsel to the judge. “See here, young man,” said the judge, “this kind of thing will subject you to imprsonment for contempt of court. An- swer my question. Had the defendant one aunt or two?” “He had a little less than two, your honor.” “Then he had one, of course?” “No; he had more than one. expl——” “IT understand you, then, to say that the defendant, James Magruder Brown, had at this time, in the State of Mary- land, two aunts? “No, sir; there were three women, but a trifle less than two aunts, because——” “Mr. Clerk,” said the judge, “fine this man one hundred dollars. Now, sir, tell me pre-cise-ly—how—many—aunts—the— defend—ant—had.” “He had precisely one and a half aunts.” “Mr. Clerk, impose another fine of the same amount upon this rascal. Now, un- less you explain yourself promptly, I will double the fine again.” “Yes, sir; you see, your honor, Brown’s maternal grandfather married twice.” “What fe that got to do with it? We don’t want the defendant’s family for generations back lugged into this case.” “Brown’s mother was his daughter by his first wife. By his second wife he had three other daughters, who are Brown’s mother’s half-sisters and Brown’s half- aunts. Three half-aunts make one aunt and a half. That’s what I mean,” “Why didn’t you tell us this in the first placce?” “You didn’t give me a chance,” “Mr. Clerk, remove those fines, Mr, Smith, let me warn you not to bring these family conumdrums into court in the future. Mr. Perry, go on with the case,” The case went on, and Brown’s aunt and a half were dropped from discussion, —_——____~+- 0» Unexpectedly Small. Two little boys of our acquaintance had been invited out to tea at the house of a third little boy, and their mother had told them to take but one cooky each if there were cookies for tea. Sure enough a plate of fancy cakes was passed at the table. _ Freddy, the older boy, looked at the di- minutive “baby cakes” a moment and then took two; saying, as he did so, to his little brother of four years: “Oye “You may take two, Willie; I’m sure mamma had no idea they would be so very small,” Let me ——___~+-e-e____-— ‘ We are always ‘young to those who are older, and always old to those who are younger, TRUMPS. BY NATHAN D. URNER. ee A much grimed face, though rosy red ; 5 A boy’s stight form, though ragged and rough; An old felt cap on a curly head, And twinkiing blue eyes bright enough, Airing his heels, on the curb he stands, Idly whistling a popular air, Deep in his pockets stuffing his hands, AS complacent and proud as a millionaire. “What is your name, my little man? ” You would banish blues or drive away dumps ‘Well, | earn my living the best I can, Y And most of the street-boys call me “Trumps Not as I'd pilfer or steal, 1 would say, Or run any racket like that, you know; My mother taught me to steer away From the wicked things in the long ago. She’s dead now—well, let it go, of course, I’ve only myself to care tor now; I cant errands, | hold a horse, i nd manage to scrape along any how. I’m so lively and Spry, take tlhe wind as it blows And so ready to stand the knocks and pumps Of the big hard world—that’s the cause, 1 suppos® Why all ot the street-boys call me Trumps: He tipped his cap as he danced from the curb At the beck of some one passing near, And I marked in wonder his pluck and nerves And his total Jack of worldly fear. The veriest waif in this world of strife, With its ruts and ridges and stumbling In this rickety, rackety game of life I’m sure his efforts will turn up Trumps. GRIT; THE YOUNG BOATMAN OF PI POO By HORATIO ALGER, Jr., viek,” Author of “Only an Irish Boy,” “Ragged Brave “Sink or Swim,” “Tattered Tom, and Bold,” “Fame and Fortune,” et stumps ° ey (“ Grrr’ was commenced in No. 17, Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.] >+—— CHAPTER XXX. GRIT IS BETRAYED ev of N sending Grit to Boston instead I; the regular messenger, Pres Graves had acted on his owD ince sibility, as he had a right todo,® it was a matter. to be decided executive. He might, indeed, havé pave sulted the directors, but that would ered created delay, and might have endans vets the needful secrecy. When, howe vat Grit returned and reported to my ac: his mission had been satisfactorily of complished, he informed the dire¢ “tine what had been done at a special mil ap’ summoned at his own house. teys proved the action except Mr. Cour a who was prejudiced against Gril owD m S | —s r * eee: > iz } AY = as ZZ ” EXPENSES, mistake in meddling with affairs that don’t concern him.” CHAPTER XXXI, NEW PLANS. HEN Grit returned he found his mother. naturally curious to know where he had been and on what errand. “T should like to tell you everything, mother,” he said, “but it may not be pru- dent just yet.” “It’s nothing wrong, I hope, Grit?” “You may be sure of that, mother, I wouldn’t. engage in anything that I thought wrong. I feel justified in telling you confidentially that I was sent by Mr. Graves.” de Daperdne president of the bank?” “ es, ” “Then. it’s all right,” said Mrs. Bran- don, with an air of relief. “My time wasn’t wasted, mother,” said Grit, cheerfully, as he displayed a ten- dollar note, new and crisp, which Mr. Graves had given him, besides paying the expenses of his trip. “I’ve only ees gone two days, and ten dollars will pay me very well. It’s better than boating, at any rate.” “Yes, but it isn’t a steady employ- ment.” “No; don’t suppose I have any idea of giving up boating, because I have been paid five dollars a day for my trip. It’s a help, though.” “Did you see anything of Mr. Brandon while you were gone?” asked his mother, apprehensively. “No, mother. pointed, either.” I can't say I was disap- “J SHOULD THINK IT WAS A GOOD OFFER—TWELVE DOLLARS A WEEK AND TRAVELING SAID GRIT, ENTHUSIASTICALLY. something,” he reflected, anxiously. “Is it possible that any part of our plan has leaked out? And if so, how? hen why should a boy like that be selected for so responsible a duty? He must have had some agency in the discovery. Ha! I have it! He is the step-son of this Brandon. I must question Brandon.” “Brandon,” he said, abruptly, summon- ing that. worthy to his presence, “you have a son named Grit, have you not?” “Yes—curse the brat!” answered Bran- don, in a tone by no means paternal, “What kind of a boy is he?” “Impudent and undutiful,” said Bran- don. “He doesn’t treat me with any kind of respect.” “T don’t blame him for that,” thought Johnson, surveying his instrument with a glance that did not indicate the highest esteem, . “Did you tell him anything of our plans?” he asked, searchingly. “Tell him! He’s the last person I’d tell!” returned Brandon, with emphasis. “He didn’t overhear you and Travers speaking of the matter, did he?” “Certainly not. What makes you ask me that, colonel?” “Because it was he who carried the genuine package of bonds to Boston— that’s all.” Brandon’s face indicated profound as- tonishment. : “Grit—carried—the—bonds !” he ejacu- exe in, amazement. “How did you find out?” : “Carver found out. I have just had a dispatch from him.” “Well, that beats me!” muttered Bran- don. “I can’t understand it at all.” “It looks as if Carver were distrusted.” “YT shall find out presently. In the mean- “When he went away he spoke mys- i dany one send him?” teriously of some good fortune that was coming to him, He expected to earn a | while, I must see that boy of yours.” “T'll go and bring him here,” said Brandon, “Don’t trouble yourself. I can manage the matter better by myself. I shall go to Boston this afternoon.” “Are Travers and I to go, too?” “No; you can stay here. I’ll direct you to a cheap boarding-house, where you can await ‘my orders. I may take Travers with me.” “I would like to goto Boston,” said Brandon, wistfully. “You will stay here,” said the colonel, shortly. “Don’t venture to dispute my commands.” This arrangement did not suit Brandon very well, though it might had he been intrusted with a liberal sum of money. But Colonel Johnson, having lost the val- uable prize for which he had striven, was in no mood to be generous. He agreed:to be responsible for Brandon’s board, but only gave him two dollars for outside ex- penses, thus enforcing a degree of tem- Nor which was very disagreeable to randon. CHAPTER XXXII. GRIT RECEIVES A BUSINESS LETTER. “ RIT returned to his old business, ( but I am obliged to confess that 25A he was not as well contented with it as he had been a week previous. The incidents of the past four days had broadened his views, and given him thoughts of a career which would suit him better. He earned a dollar and a quarter during the day, and this made a very good average. Multiply it by six, and it stood for an income of seven dol- lars and a half per week. This, to be sure. was not a large sum, but it was quite sufficient to maintain the little household in a degree of comfort which left nothing to be desired. “Tt’s all very well now,” thought Grit, “but it won’t lead to anything. I’m so old now” (he was not quite sixteen) “that I ought to be getting hold of some busi- ness that I can follow when I am a man. I don’t mean to be a boatman when I am twenty-five years old.” There was something in this, no doubt. Still Grit need not have felt in such a hurry. He was young enough to wait. Waiting. however, is a very bad thing for boys of his age. I only want to show how his mind was affected, in order that the reader may understand how it hap- pened that he fell unsuspiciously into a = which Colonel Johnson prepared for im. After supper (it was two days later) Grit prepared to go to the village. He had a little errand of his own, and be- sides, his mother wanted a few articles at the grocery store. Our hero, unlike some boys that I know, was alwaysready to do any errands for his mother, so that she was saved the trouble of exacting unwill- ing service. Grit had done all his business, when he chanced to meet his friend, Jesse Burns, who, as I have already said, was the son of the postmaster. “How are you, Jesse?” said Grit. “All right, Grit. Have you got your letter?” “My letter!” returned Grit, in surprise. “Yes; there's a letter for you in the post-office. Perhaps it’s from your affec- tionate step-father,” suggested Jesse, smil- ing. “T hope not. Idon’t want to see or hear from him.” ; “Well, you can easily solve the prob- lem. You have only to take the letter out.” : “That's good advice, Jesse. I’ll follow Grit called for his letter, and noticed with some surprise, that it was addressed to him, not under his real name, but under that familar name by which we know him. . “Grit Morris,” said Jesse, scanning the Te “Who can it be from?” The letter was postmarked Boston, and was addressed in a bold, business hand. Grit opened the envelope, read it through hastily, and with a look of evi- dent pleasure. “What’s it all about, Grit?” asked Jesse. “Read it for yourself, Jesse,” said the young boatman, handing the letter ‘to his friend. This was the letter: “DEAR SiR: I need a young person on whom I can rely to travel for me at the West. I don’t know you personally, but you have been recom- mended to me as likely to suit my purpose. T am willing to pay twelve dollars per week and travel- ing expenses. If this will suit your views, come to Boston at once, and call upon me at my private residence, No. — Essex street. Yours truly, “SOLOMON WEAVER.” “What are you going to do about it, Grit?” asked Jesse, when he had finished reading the letter. “T shall go to Boston to-morrow morn-’ ing,” answered Grit, promptly. “Tt does seem to be a good offer,” said Jesse, thoughtfully. “T should think it was—twelve dollars a week and traveling expenses,” said Grit, enthusiastically. 406 “T wonder how this Mr. Weaver came to hear of you?” “T can’t think. me,” said Grit. “He says that you have been recom mended to him, I see.” That’s what puzzles “Yes. At any rate, I am very much obliged to the one who recommended me.’ “What will your mother say?” ! are, and I haven’t got any higher than' The Young Duck Hunters. “She won’t want to part with me; but when I tell her how good the offer is, she will get reconciled to it.” CHAPTER XXXII. GRIT LEAVES PINE POINT. HEN Grit went home and read the letter to his mother, it a shock to the good woman. “How can [ part from Grit?” she said, with a troubled look. “It won’t be for long, mother,” Grit, hopefully. “I shall soon be able to send for you, and we can _ settle down somewhere near Boston. I’ve got tired of this place, haven’t you?” “No, Grit. [ think Pine Point is very pleasant, as long as I can keep you with me. When you are gone, of course, it will seem very different. I don’t see how Iam going to stand it.” “It won’t be for long, mother; you'll know I am doing well.” “You can make a living with your boat, Grit.” “Yes, mother; lead to anything. and It’s all very well now, to be established in some good business.” was | twelve dollars a week yet.” Mr. Carver laughed in what seemed to be an entirely uncalled-for manner. “T don't believe you'll keep your place long,” thought the young boatman; but he, too, was not disposed to tell all he knew. So the two parted, each possessed of a secret in regard to the other. Mr. Carver, however, was destined to receive the first disagreeable surprise. After parting from Grit he met Mr. Graves in the street. “Good-morning, Mr. in his usual deferential manner, for he was a worldly-wise man, though he had committed one fatal mistake. “Good-morning, Mr, president of the bank, gravely. “Shall you have any errand for | week?” you, | said | Carver,” so. your services, and you are at liberty to “T have something to say to you, Mr. said Mr. Graves, “and 1 may as well take the present opportunity to do We have coneluded to dispense with ” look elsewhere for employment. Graves,” he said oa Carver,” said the | } | “You are going to dispense with my | | services!” repeated Carver, in dismay. “Such is the determination of the direc- tors, Mr. Carver.” “But, sir, that is very hard on me. How }am [ to get along?” | | | but it isn’t going to} do. “T hope you may find something else to We shall pay you a month’s salary in advance, to give you an opportunity of looking about.” “But, Mr. Graves, why am I treated so J | harshly? Can’t you intercede for me? I but half a dozen years from now I ought | | “Can't you put off going for a year, | Grit?” “A year hence there may be no such chance as this, mother.” “That is true.” “You'll give mother?” “Tf you really think it is best, Grit— that is, if you’ve set your heart on it.” “T have, mother,” said Grit, earnestly. “T was getting tired of boating before this letter came, but I kept at it because there didn’t seem to be anything else. Now it would seem worse than ever, and I’m afraid I should be very discontented.” “I wish you would callon your friend, Mr. Jackson, at the hotel, and see what he thinks of it,” said Mrs. Brandon. “He is an experienced man of business, and his judgment will be better than ours.” “[T willdo as you say, mother. sure he will recommend me to go.” Grit went to the hotel, arriving there about eight o’clock, and inquired for Mr. Jackson. He was told that that gentle- man had started in the morning for Au- your consent, then, I am am a poor man.” “T feel for your situation, Mr. Carver, but I am compelled to say that I do not feel disposed to intercede for you.” “Haven't I always served the bank faithfully?” “T advise you to ask yourself that ques- } 'tion, Mr. Carver,” said the president, sig- | nificantly. own conscience better than I or any one else can do for you.” gusta, and would not return for a day or | two. The young boatman was not, on the whole, sorry to hear this, for it was possible that the broker might. not think favorably of the plan proposed, and he felt unwilling, even in that case, to give it up. mother with the result of his visit. “Can’t you wait till Mr. Jackson re- turns, ”asked his mother. “No, mother; I should run the risk of losing the chance.” The evening was spent in getting ready to go. Grit left in his mother’s hands all the money he had, except the ten dol- lars he had last received, and gave an order for the sixty dollars in the hands of Mr. Lawrence, the lawyer, so that even if this Western journey were prolonged He returned, and acquainted ‘his | for three months, his mother would have | enough to provide for her wants. “Now, mother, I can leave home with- out any anxiety,” he said. “You will write me often, Grit,” said Mrs. Brandon, anxiously. “Oh, yes, mother; there is no danger I shall forget that.” “Your letters will be all I shall have to think of, you know, Grit.” “T won’t forget it, mother.” Grit kissed his mother good-by, and bent his steps toward the railway station. On the way he met Ephraim Carver. “Where are you going, Grit?” asked the bank messenger. “T am going to Boston.” “It seems to me you have a good deal of business in Boston.” “T hope to have.” “You ain’t going to stay, are you?” “IT expect to stay. I’ve got an offer from a party there.’ “Of what sort?” “That letter will tell you.” Ephraim Carver looked over the letter, and he smiled to himself, for he recog- nized the handwriting of Colonel JSohn- - son, though the letter was signed by another name. “You’re walking into the lion’s den, young man,” he thought; but he only said: “It seems to be a good offer. Why, you will be paid as much asI get. How ‘old are you?” “ Almost sixteen.” “Boys get on more rapidly now than they did when I was of your age. Why, I’m more’n twenty years older than you nothing had been discovered, Mr. Graves, who had recently shown such partiality to Grit, wished to create a swered Carver, would not do to give the source of his in- formation. tion, Mr. Carver. of putting Grit in . é every confidence in his fidelity and capac- | discover why some one wanted Ned was ity, but consider him too young for the | Stronger than his wish for freedom. position.” “T was only going to say that Grit has | the route was c L another chance in Boston, so that there | Caleb had a hard time getting on. will be no need to provide for him.” Graves, as he walked home. smart boy, but such offers are not often made by strangers to a boy of fifteen. I must speak to Clark about it.” “You can answer it to your “What does he mean?” thought Carver, startled. Then it occurred to the messenger that but that vacancy for him. “Are you going to put Grit Morris in | my place?” he asked, angrily. “What makes you think so?” asked Mr. Graves, keenly. “T knew you were partial to him,” an- who reflected that it “T will, at any rate, answer your ques- There is no intention our place. “Grit has a chance in Boston!” said Mr. Graves, in surprise. GOOD NEWS. By W. B. LAWSON, (“THE YOouNG Duck HUNTERS” was commenced in No. 19. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) : CHAPTER XXI. A TRAMP BY TORCH-LIGHT, s & ™ HEIR progress was not very rapid— > the nature of the ground precluded speed, and beside this the darkness was closing in. When it became so dark that fat Caleb g me this tumbled several times, and began to grow angry, the lank individual proposed a change of programme. They came to a halt in a likely spot, and proceeded to light a fire. There was a certain boldness in the way they did this that told Fred one thing, at least—his captors must be acquainted with the fact of his having but one friend near by, and the utter helplessness in | which he had been left. A rude supper was cooked, they having several ducks in their possession. Fred had lost his appetite. Besides that, he could hardly have eaten any of the poorly-cooked fowls, for he and Ned were somewhat fastidious about their culinary work, having everything done in ship-shape order. The man called Pepperskin asked him if he would have any, and, upon Fred’s declining, did not bother him again, though he kept an eye on him all the while he was eating. This was only a temporary halt. When the men had eaten, Caleb selected several sticks of wood, which from their resinous nature were highly inflammable. He meant to use them as torches. This indicated a renewal of the tramp. Fred made no protest, but his mind was busy, and he watched the tall man pick up his gun with mingled feelings. If the chance ever came to him, and he could grasp his double-barrel again, woe unto these men who had kidnapped him. At the same time he was in no hurry. It seemed to Fred as though this were an opportunity to discover certain facts for the benefit of his chum—that the | chance had been thrown in his way for a | purpose. We have | He had small hands, and as the work of binding his wrists together had been clumsily done, he believed that at any time he could free himself should he so desire. Still, he did not do so. The desire to solve this mystery and At times they made poor work of it, as exceedingly rough, and He growled like a wild cat because he barked his knees in tumbling when his foot caught in a hole, and he was thrown “Yes; he has just started for the city,” | forward. “What sort of a chance is it?” Fortunately the torch was not extin- “He has received an offer to travel in| guished, and Pepperskin quickly rescued the West, with a salary of twelve dollars a week and expenses.” “That is strange.” “Tt is true. He showed me the letter.” “From whom did it come?” “T don’t remember.” Carver did remember, but for obvious | reasons did not think it best to acquaint Mr. Graves. Mr. is a “ T is remarkable,” thought “Grit hat He found Mr. Clark at his house. He was the quiet man who had been em- ployed by the bank as a detective, and who had come to report to the president. There was a look of intelligence as he listened to the news about Grit. “T’ll tell you what I think of it,” he said. “The rascals have found’ out the part which Grit took in circumventing them, and this letter is part of a plot. They. mean the boy mischief.” “IT hope not,” said Mr. Graves, anx- iously. “I am attached to Grit, and I wouldn’t have harm come to him for a good deal.” “Leave the matter in my hands. I will take the next train for. Boston, and fol- low this clew. It may enable me to get hold of this Johnson, who is a dangerous rascal, because he has brains.” “Do so, and I will see you paid, if nec- essary, out of my own pocket.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) —__—__-0-»—__—— The following authors have been engaged to write exclusively for ‘‘Goop News:” James Otis, Lieut. Lionel Lounsberry, W. H.Thomes, Lieut. James K. Orton, W. B. Lawson, and Walter Morris, = it, letting his companion shift for him- self. After that the lank man had to act as guide, while Caleb fell into the rear, carrying Fred’s gun. As -he had both hammers back, the young wild-fowler was in mortal terror lest the weapon be discharged acciden- tally, and the charge planted in his back, as Caleb had a faculty for stumbling. He begged him to aim it somewhere else,'and the fat man obligingly did so. So they stumbled along in a clumsy fashion, making progress, but not very rapidly. Pred indulged in speculations. He believed these men were in some one’s pay—that they had been sent to carry off Ned for some purpose, and had made a mistake. It might nae his companion’s cause along considerably, if he could discover who was so decidedly interested in his fortunes. Now and then they skirted patches of water, and could hear the wild fowl splashing, while an occasional duck, armel at the light and noise, sped out of the sedge grass with a _ tremendous splash and great quacking. No one paid any attention to these things, unless they elicited a growl from the tall man in the lead, whose nerves may have received a shock from the sud- den flight of the wild fowl from almost under his feet. How long was this tramp by torchlight to be kept up? Fred would have given something to have known, for it might have made a difference in his plans; but there was no use asking either of the men, as they would not give him a civil answer. After a while it began to grow tire- some, and the complaints of the fat man fell thick and fast. He was appeased by his companion, A Mb gel who declared that they did not have much further to go. One thing Fred soon found out, They bad made something of a circull, and were now close beside the broad waters © the sound. Several times he had glimpses of the sheet of water glistening mm starlight, and once, as they stoppe rest, a light was seen far out On. sound, followed by the deep boom of the duck-poacher’s gun, as he fired into 4 flock. “There’s Dany—I’d know his gun any: where,” declared Pepperskin. eoht Fred remembered the name—it Ms be useful to the great gun club that CO% trolled the major part of the marsh, an the members of which were always a0® ious to put down illegal night shooting; which not only produces slaughter, but frightens the water-fowl from the vicin y. It has long been learned along the coast, from Shinnecock Long Island, to the ducking resorts of South, that no matter how much fowls are shot at during the day, will hang about good feeding-grounes 4, if disturbed in the night, they are apt quit the locality. “ened, all true lovers of sport dectY night shooting. The light en the water vanished a8 soo as the pot-hunter had picked up bis? titude of victims. “On again, comrade, thar,” said the tall man, Fred was glad to hear it, and the mystery of this business wou be solved. “Here we are.” They had arrived at formed a splendid harbor, and small boat could have anchored an free from the fury of both wi? waves. This fact increased his desire t0 ee all, ashe had astrong suspicion truth. we are neat ly lieved id 8002 : e that a little conere a d pee a and CHAPTER XXII. ONE. THE WRONG Ce oon RED was all eyes and ears now: gf a He hoped to catch a nae jn 4uic\ if he did not see the pay ating ~~ whose employ these pot-hu wild-fowlers were. 5 ne Jast Fat Caleb was panting heavily—t) ash, push through a tangle of under the splashing into water and dodgine out swinging branches of trees a rs the done him up. He gasped as he thanked his st@ had no further to go that-night. . pis Pepperskin thrust the torch dat the har.d, and by its light Fred looke fat man’s face. d yess It was red as a blush rose, an it there was the same set grin UD off, Caleb could hardly have shaken ped if he was being slowly drawn into : of quicksand. of is Pepperskin, having free use li s and hands now, put his fingers to his P gave a whistle. ter; jike It sounded hoarsely over the W# the note of a Mississippi steamen ig ey? Fred had meanwhile turne a wh upon the sound, and he chuckle 288 some distance away in the dar ee detected several lights that, me : and down with a regular motioms, af this There was no need to tell him W meant. He knew a perc was - ancho The upper gleam came from ©... light; a lantern hung in her rigginb ; Jt must be the Geraldine. . this diet The white yacht had come 12 Jeave tb tion when they watched her scene early in the morning. She must have had a spa there 3 pide 0 chor re aD eco”. board, as she had not returne jo0se dut those from which she had cu ing the gale. 7 Fred watched eagerly. js 5! nI- Would she answer Pepperskin® nal had plainly been meant for he j Yes, there it was. The lantern was waved severgsel in a circle from the deck of the vk, m “Wave the torch, Caled 2 hi cried the taller duck -hunter- h ty Caleb did so, and the pine tornjous o through the air, describing Y cles. y The lantern on board the . around once, and then remalp ea exe ary. } ner, “They understand—they’ll ‘2 Calera side of ee Maine a Pepperskin kept one ey® he evidently suspected of @ desi” ald The young man, howeve!, just gh have been forced from the SP he m His chance was coming; ond to improve it as best he COU Ted Seeing a fallen tree-trun ming — and woolly await , Jatching the spo ae aw Wen, af was lying at anchor, he knew "the life embarking in a sma was lowered nearly oD jm . e aD t wen ach iol water, Berd nd th fire, Fred landed Just as Saw th Oat, |} een ti Fred Manag ne With considerable rapidity, and upon the reeze came the sound of churning water. ars did not propel the craft—it must anaptha launch carried by the yacht er such purposes as this, and which ould be in motion inside of two minutes Sfter the match was applied. fanwhile Caleb had hustled together some dead grass, reeds, and broken ranches, applying his torch to the same, € blaze sprang up, and illuminated the “ove, with its immediate surroundings. Carer came the launch. here was no puffing as of steam, but | the light seemed to glide over the water as if impelled by some power of magic. € fire light enabled the man at the Wheel to see how to enter the cove. Speed was reduced, lowly the little launch proceeded, “atil she came up against the bank. WO men were aboard, one in the bow, While the other looked after the naptha BaS-encine, Sei. former sprang out with a cable in| 'S hands found a tree standing conveniently near, | BENOH walled in the direction of the fire 1¢n walked in the direction of the 1 Fred wondered at first why he had _ not | anded close by the fire, as the place was | a 48 good as the other, but when he | i that the second man remained in the Oat, he knew the other’s intention had | bee | A to keep him out of ordinary ear-shot. Fred had his face in the shadow, but he aaged to observe the advancing man, | R Re as he suspected, it was Matthew | fhards, the party who was looked upon | sh © owner of the yacht, though Fred | “ewdly suspected that the craft had lly Money, i the Mystery was unfolding. 4 Matthew Richards had shown his hand, + 7, Vas the villain of the play. St, must be playing a double part. Taight up to Pepperskin he walked. meee latter seemed to have borrowed | © of his comrade’s set grin, for he 1poked pleased, as if proud of his vil- «U8 work. Bente you, is it, Pepperskin?” said the «7 emMan, with a show of eagerness. uy deck, captain.” Saw the signal, but didn’t know wasther it was you or that McDonald.” for 1.20’s he—some one else ye’ve hired rehe job?” Sh «> © employed him.” «Well, he'll get left.” why?” «Use we’ve got the boy,” chuckling. Th Sod, Then the first payment is yours. «y tlance comes after——” significantly. “Wh [ understand, colonel,” ere is he?” ag Caleb’s care here.” Riatter & moment’s hesitation Matthew ards advanced to where Fred sat. USt then the young duck hunter looked wd smiled in the other’s face. “Rp ausion, Pepperskin, you’re a fool.” “The ‘What's the matter, general?” 1S ig the wrong one, you wretch!” a Al CHAPTER XXIII, ON TO THE HAUNTED CABIN. EPPERSKIN seemed knocked into yy ®heap by this intelligence—for a full minute he could not say a Th Word, but looked at the other. €n he turned upon Caleb. at man seemed ready to hide him- He pow ing the fault was his. Ric, “led to explain the matter; but « "tds cut him short. May °.Ye made a botch of the business, Saiq’ TY and do better next time,” he “ Wed ily. Pen hat shall we do with him?” asked Pra Skin, jerking his thumb toward “Ty et him go?” ther at wouldn’t do—until I’ve seen the red ou must keép him a prisoner.” Knew; Smiled when he heard this. He t se ee was utterly beyond the power of Bet away. to do this when he wanted to Sonatas drew the tail man aside. tong ething passed between them in low righ} and then he saw Pepperskin Heten up. had been given money. Work man who plotted knew that better ' “ould be gotten out of such crea- a Whi? saw the color of gold once e, Promises sn \ pear ene ®Uneh hetleb h a dia no ' Rain. ene an e dot hela € to pay would not work well. yachtsman, without coming Oy again, strode away to his ad committed one blunder, but t'mean to fall into such a trap he clutched Fred by the arm, On with the tenacity of a bull- Richards the put off and soon in the 8S that covered the al- had embarked, vanished water, the passage of the lantern. “Now we'll tramp again.” “Not far, IL hope, Pepperskin,” pleaded Caleb, whose avoirdupois made this night- work a business far from pleasing. “To the old cabin, comrade,” replied the other. Fred felt Caleb shudder. “You ain’t afeered of the ghost?” “Ghost!” laughed Pepperskin, who was feeling particularly tickled over the fact that Caleb had not seen him receive the money that reposed so snugly in his pocket; “the ghost that tackles us will find a hard crowd to handle. Come, light your torch again.” Caleb obeyed meekly. All the spirit was crushed out of him by the consciousness that he had made a blunder and come near ruining the play. All was now ready. Fred had learned what he desired, now wished to leave their company. This was not so easily done. Pepperskin seemed to have and him like a lynx. He had again changed his mood, and grown surly when he contemplated the fact that they had had all of their trouble for nothing, Again they marched through the laby- rinth, and Fred knew these fellows must become | took a few turns with the rope | more suspicious than ever, and watched | CGooyDpD NEWS. Then it began to advance toward them ! though her course could be marked by|as if he believed that his night tramp was done. Pepperskin went directly to the door, | which was closed, but gave way at his | touch, and they all passed inside. deceived by some bad dream that came to him while half-asleep, for he rolled back |and remained silent. This finished the business. A long time passed away, and there There was nothing extraordinary about} was no further sign of wakefulness from | | | the place, and Fred had seen it before. It looked like any deserted cabin in which the elements had united to bring | about decay. | A few worthless articles of furniture had been left behind, and this constituted all there was to remind one of the fact that |at some time in the past the cabin had | had an owner. Caleb found | He was tired. “Shall I start a fire over yonder?” asked Caleb. | “What for?” “The night’s. cold, and I, for one, don’t want to freeze to death after that tramp.” | “You may not have the chance.” “Eh?” | “If we leave this young chap here tied |}hand and foot, and go after the other | one.” Caleb groaned dismally. hole in the wall in which to thrust the pine link, so that it served as a means of illuminating the interior. Fred sank upon a chair. a convenient | “Pepperskin, be merciful. Lain’t equal | to it this business is killin’. Besides, be well acquainted with the region, else | we kin. do it just.as easy in the mornin’, they could not have gone so confidently. He wondered how it was he had never met them before, but then his operations you know.” “How?” “Why, the other lad can’t easily get were carried on mostly by water, while | away from where he is without the boat.” they may have been employed as guides at the Currituck club. “That’s so, Caleb, old hoss.” “Then say you'll stay, and I’ll have a In this peculiar region men might live | jolly fire burning here in five minutes to other, and yet not become acquainted, since their daily business carried them in different directions, Fred knew where they were bound. The old cabin said to be haunted was |a place he and Ned had seen. 5S me marsh man had lived in it years }ago, and had been shot through the win- dow by an unknown party. Suspicion at- tached to a certain man, who had been stealing the property of the gun club, and been watched by the murdered man, but he vanished and was never caught. Since then the cabin was declared haunted, and no one dared live in it. Lights had been seen there on dark nights, and a party of duck shooters in camp near by had heard awful shrieks and groans one night that had so terrified them that they tumbled into their punt | and poled away like mad. Men who are as brave as lions in facing an open danger will cower at a mysteri- ous one. Toward this place they were now pro- ceeding as fast as the circumstances would admit. It was no doubt the policy of the two men to confine Fred in the old cabin until they could capture his friend. What the ultimate object of this pecu- liar business might be, the young fellow could not say, but he did not like the dark look on the face of the man sport- | ing those luxuriant side whiskers—the man who was a brother to the lady Ned believed must be his mother. Under certain conditions a man of his stamp might not only be cruel, but a villain. Dark deeds have been done down in the great marsh at Currituck, and the na- tives along the coast tell strange stories to the sportsman who visits their haunts in search of wild fowl. Their passage was laborious. It took them half an hour to go from the little cove to the old cabin. Once or twice Fred had an idea they were being followed, and Pepperskin him- self commanded a halt on a certain oc- casion in order to listen. Dead silence reigned around. Again the tramp was resumed, and they reached the cabin without an adven- ture. Fred had quite made up his mind, how- ever, that some one had been creeping after them. His thoughts turned to the ntad her- mit. What if these men left him helpless in the cabin, and the crazy man found him there—would he not be apt to wreak ven- geance upon him for what had happened. in the past? This was a phase of the case Fred had not as yet entertained, and he was made uneasy. What would they do with him? He longed to escape, and yet the chances seemed particularly small with these men watehing him so closely. CHAPTER XXIV. “ALL QUIET ON THE POTOMAC.” “HE lone cabin was utterly dark, and 2 to all appearances forsaken, when the little party of’ three approached me St Caleb breathed blessings on their luck, — \ been purchased with the lady’s|for years within a few miles of each|keep the ghost of old Simon Brandon laway.” “T guess it’s as good that way.” Greatly relieved, the fat man hastened to pile some wood in the fire-place, and set fire to it. When the blaze sprang up the interior of the haunted cabin looked more cheer- ful—there is always something cheerful about a merry, crackling fire, As for Fred Crawford, he received the it was against his policy to show this fact. He had been worried by the thought that these men meant to tie him hand and foot and leave him in the haunted cabin, while they went off to capture his friend. It pleased him to know this was not to be. While they slept he might make his escape, and, once able to seize his gun, he was ready to bid the two rascals defiance. So he possessed his soul in patience, and bided his time. The two men had already supped, so there was no attempt made to get a meal. They drew out their pipes, charged them, and then proceeded to make them- selves comfortable. Some of the smoke was drawn up the |chimney, but enough remained to create | something of a fog. Caleb knocked the ashes from his pipe | finally, and gave a tremendous yawn. At this the other muttered a few words, and the fat man, passing over to Fred, proceeded to bend his ankles together. The prisoner made no resistance. When the job had been done, Caleb tried the fastenings upon Fred’s wrists, |but finding them apparently in good ‘order, made no attempt to tighten them, which fact pleased the prisoner. He knew he could free his hands at will. Pepperskin smoked on. It was midnight now. Would the man never get sleepy? Such was the overpowering effect of the smoke and the heat, that even Fred him- self felt drowsy, and but for his desperate situation could have gone to sleep. At length the lank islander, who had probably been born and raised on the coast, put his pipe away. Long ere this fat Caleb was snoring peacefully, undisturbed by dreams of aw- ful ghosts. Fred had seated himself in a _ corner, and made out to be asleep also, but was keeping one eye upon the other all the while. Pepperskin laid himself out, making a pillow for his head out of his coat, which he took off and rolled up in true tramp style. He had selected a position in front of the door, sv that it would be impossible for any one to open this without arousing him, For this Fred did not care. ; He saw where his gun was kept, and it was his intention to seize this as soon as he was free. Pepperskin was wakeful. Several timeS when Fred thought the man must be asleep, he had turned over with a grunt. - Perhaps his hard bed kept him awake —lean people feel such things most. Once he actually sat up and looked around him, but he had probably been : about through notices in this column. intelligence with much pleasure, although | him—on the contrary. his heavy breath- ing proclaimed sleep. Now was Fred’s time. It might not come again. He worked his hands, and in the eourse of a minute or two had them free. Now to cut his ankle bonds. Within reach was a knife, an old rusty | affair that had been sticking in the tim- ber for years, but Fred’s eye had noted its position, and he believed he could make good use of it. While he sawed away with the dull blade at the bonds, he heard a sound. It seemed to come from above, and he remembered that there was a sort of loft there, though the ladder by means of which it had formerly been reached had long since rotted away, because of the rain entering through a hole in the roof. Of course Fred’s first thought was of the ghost. Were they about to be treated to an ex- hibition? His eyes sought the opening where the ladder had been—became riveted wpon it, for he saw something moving there, something that caused a thrill to pass through his frame. (TO BE CONTINUED.) ——_—_~+ o EXCHANGE DEPARTMENT. —_—-- [IMPORTANT.—This column is free to all our readers, We will not be responsible for transactions brought 1 All offers must be strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any “for sale” advertisements, neither will we insert. any exchanges of fire-arms, explosive, dangerous, or worth- lesstarticles. When you send us an exchange notice aod it does not appearin areasonable time you will know thatit was not acceptable: Address all com- eae for this column to ‘Exchange Depart- ment. Qreewnste CIGARETTE PICTURES—Thos. Jersey avenue, 8. E., Washington, D. C., will give 300 ee ee and a book entitled “English at the North Pole” in exchange for seventeen copies of Goop NEWS. SWEET CAPORAL TICKETS—Will D. McNaughton, Westfield, Pa., would like to exchange 100 Sweet Capo- ral tickets for any of Alger’s, Castlemon’s, or Eis? books, except “Gunboat Series ” “Roughing It Series,” “Steel Horse,” “War Series,” “Ned in the Block House,” and “Ned in! the Woods,” or best offer in reading mat- ter. All letters answered. Collins, 4299 New o> SERIES “BB” BOOK PREMIUMS. Three Books Given Away fo Every Reader Pe re Es —_——_-——— S f E have concluded to give away WAYS /> three books, instead of two, as Yo) originally announced. As in our : first series, we will print a conpon on the first page for TWELVE consecutive issues, The coupons will be numbered from 1 to 12, inclusive, and by sending us the set complete we will send you any three books in the ‘‘Goop News” Lrprary that you may select from the following list. There are no conditions in this premium offer except to send us the complete set num- bering from 1 to 12, inclusive. The first twelve numbers of ‘‘Goop News” Liprary have been carefully selected from the entire list of the well-known ‘‘Golden Library.” Future issues.of ‘Goop News” Lrarary will be composed of original stories specially writ- ten for us. All fiction published in this library will deal with exciting incidents and adventure, while entirely free from objec- tionable sensationalism. We feel certain that everybody will be pleased with them, 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, Around the World on Eighty Cents, by Henry A. Wheeler. No. 3.—A YOUNG BLUE JACKET; or, En- listed fer the War, by Robert E. Morse. oy No. 4. CARIBOU-HUNTERS; | or, Treasure-Trove of Hudson Bay, by Charles B. Cross No. 5.—ALL ABOARD; Thé Rival or Boat Clubs, by Weldon J. Cobb. No. 6.—EVERY INCH A BOY; or,” An Aone Actor’s Adventures, by Jobn Tulk- inghorn. No. 7.-WORKING HIS WAY>3 or, The Brookville Boys’ Club, by Dwight Welden. No. 8.-TOM BROWN’S PLUCK; or, The ae of a Soldier Boy. by Major A. F. irant. No. 9.~BRIGHT AND EARLY; or, The soy Who Became a Detective, by John _ Tulkinzhorn. : No. 10.—ONE 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, ile Rinmepd-Seekers of Natal, by Henry 4. Black. Please address all communications in- tended for this department to ‘‘Goop News” Liprary, P. O. Box 2734, New York City. This series commenced in No. 19. GoonD NEWS. ISSUED WEEKLY. W. B. Lawson, Editor. NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 6, 1890. Terms to Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE FREE.) 38months - - = - - 65c. | l copy, two years - $4.00 4 saenehs “2-2 ee 85c. The New York Weekly and 6months - - - - - $1.25 | Goop News, both for one One Year - - - - - 250| year - ----- 2 copies, 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 a Post-Office 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 RaIsErs.—We are at all times om ana willing to lend you all possible aid, and will send, free, as many sample copies as you think you can ju- diciously use, together with other advertising matter. Special inducements made for large clubs. All letters should be addressed to STREET & SMITH’S GOOD NEWS, P. O. Box 2734. 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y. Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not have them please send direct to this office and we will supply them by mail on receipt of price. None of the stories published in GOOD NEWS will appear in book-form. Contents of this Number. —<-—_—. “An Involuntary Voyage,” by Oliver Optic. “Midshipman Merrill,” by Lieut. Lionel Leunsberry. “The Young Duck Hunters,” by W. B. Lawson. “Grit,” by Horatio Alger, Jr. “Guy Harris, the Runaway,” by Harry Cas- tlemon. “On Land and Sea,” by Wm. H. Thomes. “With Farragut,” ‘Roll of Honor—War Heroes.” ‘Journal of a Jolly Drummer,” by the author of ** A Bad Boy’s Diary.” “What Shall Our Boys Do?” by Charles Barnard. ‘“Brown’s Aunt,” by Max Adeler. “The Peddler’s Funeral,” by George H. Coomer. “Hazing a Fresh,” by Jerome Retlaw. “Interesting Facts,” by John R. Coryell. And the usual interesting departments, + e-»—___- EW serial stories from the pens of the following well-known writers will shortly be published in Goop News: Lieut. Jas. K. Orton, Oliver Optic, Harry Castlemon, W. B. Lawson, Lieut, Lounsberry, Horatio Alger, Jr., Max Adeler, Wm. H. Thomes. We take pleasure in announcing the above programme, as we know it will be appre- ciated by our readers. No other paper is able to offer such an array of popular authors, STUDIES. \ HERE are many kinds of useful study a N besides those which oceupy your at- << tention at school. I will mention three of the most important: Study to do right. Nothing else will help more to make you a useful, happy, attractive boy. Study to do right in all things. Study people. Men think that in the pursuit of business no knowledge is more useful than a knowl- edge of human nature; it is just as useful to a boy in his business, and who ever saw a smart boy that was not full of business? You will find, if you observe closely, that | the foolish, the bright, the stupid, and the ‘indifferent, the last being perhaps the least attractive, and of the least account in the world. The most essential point of differ- ence in people, my dear boys, lays between right and wrong; strive to imitate goodness and truth, and a portion of each quality may be found in nearly everybody. Study yourself. Though I have mentioned this last, it is not least, but is perhaps the most important of studies. There are grand possibilities wrapped up in you somewhere, my dear boys. Search them out, and by your own honest endeavor, develope those possibilities into grand certainties. This round world is expecting you boys to help roll it onward and upward. Play earnestly, work hopefully, and study diligently. INTERESTING FACTS, sii BY JOHN R. CORYELL, —_e-—_— What the Sun Prevides Us With. fy HAT does the sun give us? Why, \A\/, that is no kind of a conundrum. Light and heat, of courrse. Light enough; but how does the sun give us light and heat? Since it was more than Sir lsaae Newton could do to find that out you need not be ashamed to give it up, though, perhaps, you may be tempted to gness at it, In the first place, the sun is a globe of fire. A very hig globe, and a very hot fire, so hot that if this little earth of ours were by chance to fall into it, it would burn us up, earth and all, as if we were but a grain of powder in a kitchen range. And this is not theory, but demonstrated fact. Why, they have even gone so far as to weigh the sun and take its measure. They know what it burns in that hot fire, and they know a great deal more; but after all, what they do not know would make a bigger book than what they do know. I might tell you how these marvelous things were discovered and proved, and you would he most surprised at the clear- ness of the reasoning and the simplicity of the methods hy which all these facts are established; but we may he satisfied with what an investigation of light and heat will teach us. A man whose eye should come into sud- den and violent contact with the closed fist of Mr. John L. Sullivan, of Boston, might with truth declare—aftsr a suffi- cient lapse of time to enable him to ex- press himself at all—that he had seen stars. Now, there may not seem to he any connection between Mr. Sullivan’s astronomical labors and the matter under discussion; and yet there is an intimate connection. The man whose eye encountered the aforesaid closed hand did not really see stars, but he did see flashes of light caused hy the sudden pressure on the retina of the eye. The sun is in the place of Mr. Sullivan, and sends out from itself a constant succession of waves, which, art the retina, produces the sensa- tion of light. These waves are very tiny, of course, and measure from one-thirty thousandth to one-sixty thousandth of an inch in length. They are supposed to he produced by the agitation caused hy the vibrating atoms; just as you might make waves in a pond by moving your finger in it. hat is the way the sun gives us light; but it may astonish you to learn that the same wave which brings you light does not bring you heat. Heat comes riding to us on an entirely different set of waves. The two sets of waves come in company, but are as distinct as black and white; and just as you get no heat from the light-waves, so you get no light from the heat-waves, And these facts are true not only of the'sun, but of any luminous and hot body. These facts will be better understood when they are demonstrated, and al- though experiments made before your eyes would be most convincing, a verbal explanation may suffice for the present. Professor John Tyndall, one of the most clear, ee and simple in style of sci- entists, has made a number of beautiful experiments to establish these facts, and we may, without shame, submit to fol- low him. Instead of the sunlight an electric light is used as more convenient. The object is to separate the light-waves from the heat-waves, because if you can get the there is in the heat-waves. At the same time the experiment, if successful, will prove that there are such things as light and heat-waves. If you will place a rod of ironand a rod of wood in the fire you will learn, among other matters, that iron is a good conductor of heat, and wood a poor con- ductor. Glass, you may have noticed, is a good conductor of light, while wood is avery poor conductor. There are three substances which are good and bad con ductors for light and heat. What, if b chance, we should find a substance whic would admit light, but not heat through it, and another substance which would transmit heat but not light! We have precisely such substances. Iodine dissolved in bisulphide of carbon will conduct heat, but not the faintest glimmer of light; while a solution of alum in water will conduct light, but not heat. Now darken the room, turn on the electric light, and concentrate the rays by means of a focussing mirror, which is exactly the same in principle as concen- trating the sun’s rays by a burning-glass. Put a piece of gun-cotton at the focus. Puff! it goes burned up. Now put your solution of alum between the light and the focus. The focus is still visible there, for the light is not cut off any more than it was before. Now puta piece of gun- cotton at the focus. No puff. The gun- cotton is still there. Now put your iodine mixture in the line of light. The light is cut off, and we cannot see our focus, but we know where it is, and we pla-.e the cotton there. Puff! It is gone. Can there be any argument here? Is not the result conclusive of the state- ments made? And yet how simple are the methods employed, how clear and unan- swerable the logic by which the really wonderful knowledge is gained. And yet simple as the means are, easy as it is to follow in the footsteps of the man of sci- ence, the few facts which we have taken but a few moments to jot down are the result of generations of thinking and ex- perimenting. First, one step would be se- cured; then would follow groping in the dark; ‘then another step, then more grop- ing until the patient worker, reachin the top at last, could grasp the light an turn if down the toilsome way, now made light and easy for the merest child who would but turn his face lightward. ————_~+-0-e—_____ War Heroes. ee The following ‘‘Roll of Honor” sketches have already appeared: ‘Capturing a Locomotive,” Messrs. Brown and Knight, in No. 19. “A Hot Half-Hour’s Work,” Messrs. Van- tine and Rush, in No. 20. *‘A Boy Soldier,” Orson W. Bennet, in No, 21. ‘Devotion to Duty,” John F. Mackie, in No, 22. “Capturing the Flag,” Theo. W. Greig, in No. 23. “A Brave Seaman,” Richard H. Seaward, in No. 24. “Hand to Hand,” Alexander C. Elliott, in Frank Boyd. E have received a number of letters Q YC /> from prominent business men in oo) Trenton, N. J. calling our atten- tion to the above-named hero. We take great pleasure in enrolling hisname among our list of young heroes, and present- ing him with a gold medal. The following letter and extract from a Trenton news- paper speak for themselves: TRENTON, N. J. 1890. MEssrs. STREET & SMITH :— Dear Sirs :—We, the undersigned, take pleasure in bringing to your notice the fact that Mr. Frank P. Boyd, a newsdealer, has twice saved a man in this city, whose life was endangered both by drowning and death on the rail, and, for which courageous conduct, we present him to you as a fitting person entitled to a medal, which you offer to the person, who in risking his own life saves that of another. We subscribe ourselves, Very truly yours, CHARLES SLEE, 8 South Broad St. E. B. Nans, ‘‘ News Editor” Daily True Ameri- can. OLIVER KEMP, 137 So. Greene St., Trenton, N, J. A. C. MUKniaut, 123 East Hanover St. Wo. W. HOWELL, Notary Public. A DOUBLE RESCUE. (From the Trenton, N. J. Times.) Frank Boyd, the newsdealer, this morning rescued a man from a watery grave and then nar- rowly escaped being struck by a locomotive. As he was walking along the water power near where the Pennsylvania railroad track crosses it on a truss bridge in the neighborhood of the tun- nel, his attention was called to a match peddler who was attempting to cross the bridge. A. train no two people are exactly alike in any re- spect; there are the good, the bad, the wise, light-waves by themselves it will be very easy to test them, and find out if the contain heat, while, on the other han | you may also find out how much light was bearing down on the man and Boyd called to him to get, off the bridge or he would be killed. The man became confused, and as he turned, his foot struck the ties and he fell in the water Boyd dropped his bundle of newspapers wer. pe one un- and rushed to the rescue. The man had der the second time, and was very weak by t time the newsdealer succeeded in getting him ou ofthe water. The rescuer and rescued had to re cross the bridge, and neither of them noticed t . drill engine which was bearing down on them a high rate of speed until they beard the whis : screech and voices calling to them to “jump bac into the water.” Spurred on by the new danger the half-drowned match peddler took new life oe they succeeded in crossing the bridge in safely. Mr. Boyd says the match peddler is a Russ r Hebrew, and that he knows him only by the nal! of “Charlie.” . -< > Ticklets. BY CHARLES W. FOSTER. Natural History. J Little Sister—‘‘Is tails any use to monkeys Little Brother—“Of tourse they is. They der help the monkey hang on when the organ grin walks.” Luck and Ill Luck. has Mrs. De Gloom—*I hear that cousin Jack been jilted again.” jor? vat: De Gloom—“So he is still a bache ucky dog! What girl was it ?” SC is daughter of the Mrs. De G.—‘Miss Million, banker.” Mr. De G.—*Poor fellow !” Accidents in High Life. er First Tramp—“Say, pard, how’d ye smash J finger ?” Second Tramp—‘“‘Shuttin’ the planer.” Knew What He Wanted. “f Philadelphian (in New York restaurant}— want a plece of round 8 eak.” steak Waiter—‘Don’ know as I know wot round is, sah.” New Philadelphian—“‘Why, what you Yorkers Call sirloin.” Cui Bono. Amateur Photographer—“What do you ae become so expert that | can catch ac all in its flight.” Layman—“No use. There’s no money in DAS” ball nowadays.” Too Imaginative. Blinkers—‘‘That stranger says. that once, in a foreign country, the natives were abou tack him, when he unfurled the Americaé stated that he was under its protection, a0@ slunk away in terror. I wonder what be is. Winkers—‘‘A miserable liar.” Matter of Conscience. ‘ First Messenger Boy (excitedly)—‘‘Say: ce come into this toy store and see the niggel ano” on a box an’ turn summersets widout losin got & Second Messenger Boy (solemnly)—‘“‘l ven and message for a doctor—case of life and deat can’t stop more'n a half hour or so.” A Well Based Opinion. Lawyer—‘:What is your opinion of the P witnesses, Jingle and Bingle ?” Witness—“‘I consider Jingle a worse ras¢ Bingle.” ni?” “Qood. On what do you base that opinit game “Jingle and Bingle once started in for nomination, and Jingle got it.” Fashion’s Slaves. yes Husband—“You women are regular sla it’s ink? er when to at- flags the, revious al thaD fashion.” ap, you ited know it, my dear. What was Moy ‘ wanted me to do for you 2” ton Husband—‘“Oh yes, I forgot. Those two be tails on the back of my coat just above the coal are loose. I wish you’d sew them on. An Awful Discovery. Dentist—"‘I see what the matter is. i of this tooth is exposed.” way Boston Girl—‘‘Horrors! our eyes # sir.” ne nerv? Turn y Wanted Enough. Young De Fast (who has been out very night before)—‘‘Have you filled the ba! told you ?” Valet—‘'Yes, sah.” “With cold water ?” “Yes, sah.” “Then lead me to if.” 2 “Watah’s awful cold for a bath, sah.” “J don't want a bath. I want adripk. A Domestic Pointer. e nave Mrs. De Cott—‘‘And so you won't Jet vances, this flat although I am willing to pay In #y ghl Agent—“No madam. You have too 12 dren.” . owners Mrs. De Cott—“But all flat, and hous’ > pye too, talk the same way. What amI to it I have children I must live.” Agent (confidentially)—‘‘Move into and stay there until malaria kills 4 off.” A Moment of Suspensé- on the Young Husband (meeting his wife ot street)—“‘Horrors! Is the baby dead?” ge 0 Young Wife—‘What nonsense! Of oe by I just this moment left him as well as ” : did you think anything had happened et) — Ne Young Husband (with a gasp of ie 2 y doe here I am only two blocks from home hear him.” ne jate t tub, 8 J bs subur ng Proof Positive. Art Patron—“Are you sure this is a 8® master ?” ou Dealer—Undoubdtedly. The Madonn& J° observe, has a thorouglily Italian face.” An Apt Pupil. Doctor—“The trouble with you ist take enough exercise. Take more.” Blinks—‘*Thanks. yine 04 nat you aos? ” Doctor—“Two dollars. Here 1s : el Much obliged. Heigho! I don’t feel V self.” doc Blinks—“You take too much, exerclsé, Take less, . Two dollars, please. ————- ~~» © The names of the winners 4 Contest will be announced neat pall nm the Base weeks | WL our. . 0 ge How much do! ir ones pave ce oil er aver rb3 vom the yby: DY; jou't g old jon't y?” nge nS” ctor GOOD NEWS. 409 half story adobe building, with tiled roof, at the rate of twenty-five dollars a plate, LAND AND SEA g | and reported to be the swell place of the| while I sat toying with my champagne q |town, as the owner was a grandee of|glassand black Hamburg grapes, with- | Spain and had some of the best blood in | out relish for either, I suddenly thought OB, | California in his veins. His cattle roamed | of my frugal repast in the court-yard at St : ; ' on many hills, and his landed posses- Santa Barbara, and I had to acknowledge dl lll the Years 1843 dd ali Ah. sions were enormous. When added to/ that it was sweeter to the palate than all | these comfortable assurances was the re-| the state and parade of a municipal feast. z | markable fact that he had the handsomest| Once or twice a young lady, the daugh- By WILLIAM H. THOMES, Atthor unmarried daughter in the town, it is no| ter, I rae $f ee came out on the veranda, Busty “the Gol ;-Hunters of Australia,” “The | wonder he was popular. In this country |and looked at me ina curious sort of See, 120 Gold- Hunters in Europe,” any man with a pretty, single daughter | way, and then I suspended a 868 pep Yires, “Running the Blockade,” “A Whale-!is looked upon with entire respect, and | until she had retired, for At seemed to me avs Adventures,’ «The Belle of Australia,” | all of his tedious stories are listened to| unnatural and gross to eat in the pres- “a, attentively, and his most stupid jokes | ence of such a divine and angelic crea- laughed at, as though they were really}|ture. I have got all over that sentiment bright scintillations. But wait until the|now. Eating is a science, and women en- lady marries, and then see how quickly | joy dining well and luxuriantly, with as the father will be left to talk to indiffer- | much gusto as the coarser specimens of ent hearers, and pronounced a bore by | humanity. 5 every one. This was not the case with the; These were the first glimpses that I had | Don, for he Was a gentleman of intelli-| of Senorita Noriego, and the next day I }gence, and could give more interesting} held her in my arms, and carried her to |reminiscences of the country than any | our boat, and deposited her in the stern- | i + tt fas uy! nD AND SEA” was commenced in No. 3. | tun TS Can be obtained of all News Agents.) CHAPTER IX. get SANTA BARBARA. ANTA BARBARA, in 1843, was a i) Slee Y, pleasant little town, situ- ate 7 oe |! man in it. | sheets; yet she cared no more for me than ha, about half a mile froma an | Don Noriego was as charitable and|she did for one of her father’s peons, for bom ot Sandy beach, which extended generous as he was hospitable. His house! there was avast difference in our sta- tih,, ovanturo south, to Point Arenas nthe h, where the surf was ever rag- Mgq, MOaninge. After a southeaster it hat qnBerous to land there, even if a % yced venture through the breake eae 4 northerly or west wind | was always open to strangers. I used to| tions in life, and a common sailor, in her | wish that I was a gentleman, and had a estimation, was not an elevated speci- men of humanity. After my din- ner I wandered around the 7 ipl sgn town, and saw _ the mounted caballero Oran Vessels would ect © . 2 Key ‘er toward Santa Rosa ae R= : * thee Set under its lee, and . : al the Until the gale abated. et, heme we were on the Nk in OWever, we were in Mt haa? ‘respect, for we . to make sail to Nthone Bale, but we always wth ‘nthe winter with vitiea pte Teady to run if nt bp furling our sails NY top Sin them, and spun- fal be askets, so that they Mm ~ cut ina moment’s 8 ithoy yori g we dropped i lete fre was some kind Wat hen Shore, for the dis- it! on ¢/8 Of the white Mis- * left he hill, a little to hay -"ith i € town, were flon, -2°r, and we saw bai We eking to the church, | W na’ ag Noticed numerous K& Rtn vell as men, going BS Yj dbo, tne all the forenoon. iain onleven o’clock the 1yPUlleg red his boat, and ¥, 8 to} M™ ashore. Then le, bing take a bundle to te Wh On, the same gen- y's dan Married Don No- Wi Dana ater, and whom in’ 8 hj ld not like very bey, in 8S book speaks of bi He Ucomplimentary Na ate Was no longer a Natt Bart, but residing at Wye ang 2. living on his Nap And With his pretty %y thy 2Mily of children Nyy Ptoyg Man would have dave of. Perhaps time Nay derit softened some of Chay *8 of the gentle- in One acter, or he might KN 4 another lecture tly, be Making sailor; YW; I LIFTED HER FORM FROM THE DAMP SAND, AND SHE PUT A HAND OVER MY NECK TO STEADY HER hy : ty tre’ as it may, he and ne us boys ina : Nt Wo atherly manner, and had a)ship-load of money, so that I could have)}eyes of the ladies, with their accom- \ When forus. I never passed his | the entree of the premises, and listen to| plished horsemanship, the best, the most Nit that © was at home, and noticed | the grandee’s tales of Spain and Califor- | graceful, that I had ever seen, and I tis de yy called me to the door,|nia life. I would have endured much| never saw anything, until later years, She Weak Present of some fruit, or a| more for the sake of seeing his youngest | when I was compelled to serve a few 4 I “Ase Wine, and didn’t put on| daughter, and being near her. As it was, | months in the irregular Mexican cavalry, \ ty COm © was aman of position, | that very day, while the captain dined, | that was superior. Qh, Oude ton Sailor, Wi rn |in company with Mr. Mellus, with the Across the street was suspended a hit he dat the bundle, and trudged ; noble-hearted old gentleman, I eat a} fowl, with the feathers plucked from the heap the Bonet road between the village, | modest repast in the court-yard, and, if |neck, and that neck well greased, and Meso Lewa, V9S sent back to the ship, | the latter has not been removed, I could fastened head downward. To ride at full iin the of 8 disgust, for he made a pick out the very spot where I sat, and | speed, rise in the stirrups, and seize the te, 8, tog d man, when he was not | partook of an olla podrida, and a huge|neck of the poor cock, or duck, was the We ress his contempt for the|dish of frijoles. The dessert was a plate | ambition of all the caballeros. It was ex- of tortillas, a full goblet of wine, two/ citing sport for the men, but what the pears, as many apples as I could eat, and | fowl thought of the matter no one had ii’ wiveVed 80 on board until sundown, | a boy's appetite in this latter respect is|the humanity, or curiosity, to inquire. yt th Do a Message to the captain to| only limited by his capacity. I know} To win it was necessary to tear the car- lg Bt all th. Oriego and friends, and|that I surprised the Indian girl who} cass from its lashings, or else carry off Pho, ise 1€ members of the family | served me, for she said, when she found | the neck, torn violently from the body. Ww. Of g 2 Ship next day, for the} all the fruit gone: S , |in those days, in California, there was ty lq Necags 8 Some trading, and that| “Holy saints, but the boy will burst.’ no society for the prevention of cruelty es Rte”? Dron ty a nice entertainment| I had confiscated all that I could not animals, and, if there had ea su : Nog tateP ered for them. Then the | eat for the benefit of Lewey and Tom. I|scriptions to aid the agents would no th et tla no Mellus, who stated that was not proud in those days, and made it | have amounted to a copper a year. When ‘ te the whole front of the|ernment, and a big dinner was given to | animals by a slight pressure of the hand, 4S a large, one-and-one-'some Turkish admiral and his captains,|throwing their mustangs on their ae ee Was quite well protect- : See dashing through the ‘et © wet season ships were = es village at racing Miethe tl tocome to anchor out- - 3 7 : speed,all dressed * thet kelp, and with springs : PH eS in their gayest Sting cables, so that the j ‘ : costumes, an d | Ninenp outa be slipped at a ' witching the threat Warning, if a blow f world,” and the “et, mcned from the south- thy, Ma, and I continued to follow | j ying the bo Mr, Robinson’s place, not | a point never to be dignified when there | the Mexicans went in for fun there was “1 itd 5° Str etudle of the village. was good food lying around loose, vait- | little cruelty added to give it spice and | Mttat those > vere not named or num- | ing to be devoured by a youngster with a/ flavor. Without torture there was no Iytltg t Spot. Cavs I cannot designate | ravenous nf ge , _ | pleasure. baa b in® hor 2 although I recollect Don I don’t think that I ever enjoyed in Some of the feats of horsemans ip x ere ite nt and its dry dusty court- | California a feast more than I did that | truly wonderful, for ~ on n ¥ ; ae Ment Alon ‘nd the broad balcony that |day. Once when I was in the city gov- | perbly mounted, and could contro reir { haunches, or turn them as if on a _ pivot. Riding at full speed, the’ young men would lean far over in their saddles, and pick up a piece of cloth, or a silver dol- | lar, and yet not check their course in the |least. If they had owned handkerchiefs ; they could have been secured as easily as Boe white cotton rags that were thrown down to test their skill. | When the horseman had torn to pieces | half a dozen fowl, and tired of the sport, | a frisky bull was turned loose, and wor- ried until his life was a burden, and he was glad to escape to the hills, all the pride and ugliness taken out of his dispo- sition. They pulled his tail, turned him end over end with their riatas, lashed | him when he felt as though he had had | enough of the sport, and mocked the ani- mal in every way, until there was no fight |left in him, and, bleeding and dusty he | limped away. Then the caballeros turned their noble minds to the dogs, but the latter knew when a fete was on hand, and most of them had taken to the hills, and out of harm’s way, while the few curs that did not know enough to leave the town in time had a hard day of it, and wondered why they had been born to take part in celebrating some saint's festival, and why it was necessary, to enjoy one’s self, that aman should be cruel, and inflict pain on a dumb brute, which could not retali- ate, for dogs were never affected with |hydrophobia in California in the years | gone by. After all the dogs had been killed, or jscared to death, the gentlemen rode | races, and some fast time must have been made; but, as all the population who were on foot constituted themselves as judges, there was, naturally, a little confusion about the final results, and e records could not have been very accurate, as there was not a timekeeper in the place. There was no occasion for one. The people ate when they got up, after lying in bed until they were tired. They feasted through the day when hungry; they took sies- tas in the afternoon when sleepy; and they knew that night had come when it grew dark. For downright dolce Jar niente, or double distilled sweet idleness, Santa Barbara, ‘in 1843, was _ far ahead of any spot on earth that I had ever visited, or have seen since. With a climate that was perfection in the winter time, with a beautiful sheet of water in front of their homes, there was not a boat owned in the whole town; with fish in abundance in the bay, and craw-fish near Point Arenas, the people were too lazy to catch either, and it was only when a vessel came into port that they could hope to geta mess of pescado to eat on Fridays. Then the masters of ships let some of the boys fish for tinker mackerel, and the catch was sent on shore, and distributed to the grandees of the place, in return for favors received. One day, in Santa Barbara, Lewey and I caught twenty dozen little mackerel, and the total product was given away to people of the town. In nearly every house there was the twanging of guitars, and the strumming of harps. I saw some pretty girls waltz- ing, and dancing fandangos, but no one asked me to join in, and I could not very well if they had, as I was barefooted, and a boy doesn’t like to waltz with nice young ladies unless he is dressed in an appropriate manner. At sundown I went to the beach, found the boat waiting, and told the boys of all the sights that I had seen, and then shared with them the apples which I had saved. To be sure, they were a little warm, as I had carried them in the bosom of my shirt all the afternoon, but my shipmates were not particular or fas- tidious, and devoured them just as read- ily as if they had come from a silver fruit dish. There was nothing high-toned about their stomachs when fruit was at hand, and free. The captain and Mr. Mellus did not come down until seven o'clock, or just dusk. We got through the surf without a ducking, and pulled on board, hoisted up the boat, changed our clothes, and had supper. The next morning the ship was made ready for company. She was _ scrubbed | down fore and aft, and all the brass work was polished until you could see your |face in it. The flags were got ready for hoisting, and the two guns loaded to fire a salute as soon as our distinguished company approached the vessel. The old man came on deck, dressed in his best, and with a cheerful smile on his face, SELF. 410 GOOD and, wishing to give the ladies a real|that day; and if I should ever go to feast, he ordered Jones and me to take | heaven, of which there is much doubt in the pinnance, and go to Point Arenas, anchor, and bob for craw-fish by the aid of beef-bones, and long pieces of spun- yarn. We departed on our errand, but,.as we had never seen a craw-fish, we were a lit- tle doubtful of our success. However, we dropped a kedge just outside the rollers, ~ and then Jones lighted his pipe, and com- menced work in earnest. In a few min- utes the old sailor felt something on his beef-bone, and when he pulled up there was a black, struggling mass of claws and eyes, that looked bad enough to frighten any superstitious seaman. “Holy Moses!” roared Old Jones, as he glanced over the side of the boat, and saw his prize, “it’s the devil!” and down went the fish to the bottom, like a stone, and the old fellow dropped his pipe, and fell back into the bottom of the pinnance, and swore awfully at the fish, and the man who had sent us after such monsters. But just at that moment I felt a tug at my line, and pulling up cautiously, saw a | large craw-fish clinging desperately to my beef-bone, and, after some hesitation, landed it in the boat, but no inducement could prevail on Jones to make another attempt and I had the fishing all to my- self. I caught six in an hour’s time, and they weighed about twenty pounds each. They are very good eating, when properly prepared. We _ secured large numbers afterward, at San Diego, where they were very plentiful, more so than at any other part of the coast. When we went alongside the old man looked over the rail, and asked what suc- cess we had met with, and was very much pleased at our luck, but compli- mented Jones on his skill, and the bluff old salt said: “T didn’t catch oneof them. Thom hauled them all in. I don’t like the looks of ’em,” and then the captain smiled some more, and went to breakfast. At ten o’clock we saw our expected guests leave Don Noriego’s house, and walk toward the beach. We boys were dressed in our best clothes, and the old manand Mr. Mellus entered the boat, and were pulled on shore, and, by the time we had reached there, were joined by half a dozen ladies and_ some gentle- men, and the old grandee, Don Noriego, himself, looking well in his Mexican cos- tume. We landed in good shape, turned the boat end for end, laid our oars across, put Davy and Thom at each side of the bow, so as to hold it firm, and then awaited orders. There was some little dispute as to who should take precedence, but at last it was settled by Mr. Mellus that Don Noriego, and his daughter, and other ladies, should go first, and then the supercargo, said, in a careless tone: “One of you boys carry this young lady to the boat,” pointing to the handsome Senorita Noriego. Lewey sprang forward, like the selfish lad that he was, but the captain, who knew: modest merit when he’ saw it, waved him back, and I have always blessed him for his consideration, as he said : “Thom, you carry Senorita Noriego to de boat, and don’t let her feet get vet.” Just as though I would permit such a sacrilege, for she had on the nicest of pink silk stockings, and the daintest lit- tle kid slippers, with silver buckles. She had a foot that a fairy would have been proud of, and an ankle so small that it did not seem possible it could support her form, slight and graceful as it was. Lewey fell back, disgusted, and disap- pointed, while [ approached the young lady, pitched my hat on the sand, knelt at her feet, with as much reverence as I would have shown a fair saint, placed my arms around her, lifted her form from the damp sand, and then she put a hand over my neck, to steady herself, and I carried the precious burden to the boat, and very slow were my steps, very firm my hold, and a long time was I adjust- ing her slight form on the cushions, un- til at last the captain snarled out: “You goin’ to be all day gettin’ her in de boat, you boy? Hurry up, and come for de udders.” Ah, well, years have elapsed since that bright June forenoon, but the whole scene is as plainly before my eyes as though it was yesterday, Other arms have been around my neck since then, but there was never one could compare with that of the young jJady whom I carried to the boat, and received in return, for all my care, and deep respect, the simple words, sweet as music: “Muchos gracias, muchacho,’ obliged to you, boy.” I felt more like thanking her for the great favor she had conferred on me than receiving her expressions of gratitude. She was not more than sixteen years of age at the time, about as old as I was- yet her sweet face, and large, dark, gen, tle eyes, have never been forgotten from , or “I am |the minds of my nearset friends, I hope to see the lady, if possible, as she looked forty-seven years ago, and I wonder if my mature judgment will ratify that of my early years, always providing we can see and think in paradise. Lamartine, in one of his works, says that in his youth he met, in Italy, a young girl, whose classic and spirituelle features made such a deep impression upon his mind he never forgot them, and that, even when a howling mob surrounded him, on the occasion of a revolution in Paris, and the poet was endeavoring to restrain the passions of the blood-thirsty demons, clamoring for precious lives, he | preserved all of his coolness and courage, heath ever before his eyes was the face of that Italian girl, looking down upon him, and encouraging him to remain firm, and resist the importunities of those who were drunk with passion and rage, and knew not what they wanted, unless it was to kill and destroy innocent. peo- ple, or those who had offended the howl- ing fanatics. j | How little the young lady thought, as ishe put one of her delicate, exquisitely | moulded arms around my neck, that forty- seven years from the date I should write of her as she appeared on that day, and remember every word that she uttered. To be sure, while we were pulling toward the ship, she did give my vanity a severe rebuke, but I forgave her, and cherished no animosity on that account. I could have endured much more with pleasure, for the sake of hearing her speak. (T0 BE CONTINUED.) MIDSHIPMAN MERRILL; From Forecastle to Quarterdeck. eT By Lieut, LIONEL LOUNSBERRY, Author of “Cadet Carey,” ete., etc. —- (“MIDSHIPMAN MERRILL” was commenced in No. 22. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.] en ee CHAPTER XXV. A CLOUDED RECORD. ime) EEKS passed away, and_ the Y\\fo strange fact presented itself that the cadet midshipman, who was devotedly studious, thor- ough in every duty devolving upon him, perfect in drill and courteous to all, yet kept his list of demerit marks steadily in- creasing against him, a circumstance that could only end in one way. Pranks were played, and time and again the guilty one was said to be Mark Merrill, for he was the one who seemed to be leading two lives, as it were, secretly a wild one, openly a per- fect one. Half-smoked cigars were found by the officer of inspection in his room, and when he asserted he never smoked them, as proof against him was a box of Perfec- tos nearly empty. Upon another occasion the inspector found a bottle that had contained whisky in Merrill’s room, and there was enough left in it to prove that it had contained the real old beverage of the Kentucky colonels. In many other ways had seeming proof been brought against Mark Merrill that he was not all that he professed to be, and many predicted that he would_ take his departure from the United States Naval Aacademy before very long. But. one afternoon the corps were as- sembled, and, to the surprise of all, the demerits against the cadets were read out openly. Here and there a name was called which held no demerit mark against it, but when the adjutant came to the name of Mark Merrill he paused, and a mo- ment of suspense followed. Then came the reading of the number which was known as the “Fatal Figures.” Beyond that number no cadet could go, and Mark Merrill’s face became deadly pale as he heard the calling out of the fatal figures. Other names followed, until the whole roll of the corps had been xalled, and no one else came within startling distance of the fatal figures. “Cadet Mark Merrill to the front!” came the adjutant’s command, for that officer already had his orders. Mark advanced promptly until halted. White-faced but cool, with every eye upon him, he stood awaiting what was to come as though he were to hear his death warrant read. To him it was worse, for he expected ignominious dismissal from the corps, “Cadet Merrill, the number of demerits against your name _ has reached the limit, the fatal figures which mean dis- NEWS. just such trouble for you. missal. P mete” an ‘ i oul | In roc The commandant desires to know | edge would fall short, evem th a idea what you have to say in your defense?” aided by Scott Clemmons. ld new had tite,» for the demerits stand In other words, Barney cou 3 e, a “Nothing, sir, against me, and I submit to the laws of the academy in silence.” Every one heard the distinctly uttered reply of the young cadet. Then the commandant’s voice heard: - “ Adjutant, you are to cancel every de- merit that stands against the name of Cadet Midshipman Mark Merrill.” In spite of stern discipline a murmur ran down the line, for such a command could not be understood. But the explanation was not long de- layed, for again the stern voice of the commandant was heard: “Cadet Merrill, I have reason to know that when you failed to appear at roll call, from having lost your’cap, that it was taken from your room to bring about I have reason to know that ink stains were placed upon your uniform to get you into trouble, and that the night when you were reported absent from your room without leave, the one who answered the officer of the guard was not you, but used your name. The bottle found in your room, also the cigars, were put there by those who meant to get you into trouble. Against was | such acts, which are explained away, you stand perfect in your lessons, in drill and all duties devolving upon you. Hence I cancel these demerits, with the warning to your secret enemies that, were they known, dismissal should at once follow the discovery, and if like underhand acts against you, or others, are perpetrated, the guilty ones shall be hunted down and the severest penalty shall be visited upon them. Return to the ranks, Cadet Mer- rill, with your record clear.” There are no more manly youths in the world, taken as a whole, than our baby tars of Annapolis and boy soldiers of West Point, and none more ready to do justice to one of their number wronged, and so it was that the cadet midshipmen felt assured that the commandant was doing only justice to Mark Merrill and letting his persecutors down lightly. So they gave three rousing cheers for Mark’s “clear record,” and a groan for his secret foes. If there were several in the corps who joined in the cheers and groans it was to hide their own confusion worse con- founded, CHAPTER XXVI. THE TELL-TALE COIN. > TS ARNEY BRESLIN was not a popu- ' lar youth in the Naval School. 2 <) His nature was somewhat mo- “7S rose, it semed to go against him to salute his superiors, and he had never won golden opinions for his studious habits and strict attention to duty. He had but one intimate in the corps of cadets, and that one was Scott Clem- mons, his room-mate. Many wondered how it was that Scott Clemmons had gotten in with Barney Breslin, for, where the one was an aristo- crat, the other had just escaped being born in the Emerald Isle, for his parents had set foot upon the “land of the brave and the free” only a week when Barney made his debut in life. The father of the youth had played his cards so wellin the metropolis that he had gotten to be a man of wealth and a politician of influence, and it had been the dream of the mother’s life to see her boy an admiral before she died. An only son, Barney, had gone it a trifle rapid for a youngster, and. was sent to the Naval School for training. As he passed his examinations he had the courage, when a full-flledged cadet, to write to his father of certain unpaid debts left behind in New York, and they were promptly settled by the parent, but with an admonition that not a dollar more should be received from the Breslin bank account until he had graduated, and, if he failed to do this, he had better ship before the mast and not show up again under the parental roof-tree. Now, Barney was fond of a game of chance, and when he could find a con- genial spirit to play with, he often in- dulged in gambling, generally to his sor- row, for he soon had several rd O. U.’s for various amounts. It was supposed that Scott Clemmons helped Barney Breslin in his studies, for the former was bright, and stood splen- didly in his classes. In return it was hinted that Barney did many little favors for Clemmons, mostly of a menial nature, however. The inspector always found Clemmons’ wardrobe and half of the room neat as a pin, while Barney was often “spotted” for disorder. Cadets generally “size up” a man very correctly, and they decided that when ex- amination day came and Barney’s displace- ment was taken, his tonnage in knowl- ‘ slin sei, “bone” hard enough to an across * his ee threshold into the third class. - .. Bre was the genet But inste “He'll bilge certain,” ns} t way of putting Barney’s prospects by” k rena fellow cadets. : ‘ £ It may, therefore, be inferred hat an ney Breslin was as unpopular as hi ar, 0) that b ad mate, Scott Clemmons, was “ lor git-st the latter was looked upon “thown yo fellow all round,” though @ ad hi wha haughty, perhaps. t like Aspect late From the first Barney_ had Mort © Mong ed, a Merrill, and he made 00 e With disguise it. 0s" | A tall, heavily-formed fellow, Tos | a and ry sessed great brute strength, ai his an brave from this very reason, fee ine Mery” B: power over weaker mortals, and } twer of ¢ to be a bully from nature. mbled , he One afternoon the cadets asset ! z+ ev considerable force in the gymnasts thaly Bie many were giving exhi pitions exhib bis hotg. prowess as athletes, and no mr at thal bis feet,’ 0 tion it was, either, for the ne of HY fone and they received made iron physi@ a at S youths. t feclilé | the pas For some reason an unpleasat peca® ~tibitigs 3 rested upon many, which at ceotl Mere to of general when it was know” “aig eh - Ndets oe Clemmons had lost a valuable a ‘old coin morning. ; i oP It wii a rare coin, what 1s inor bal lat eov® t] fifty-dollar gold piece, octagon® aia Yon,» 2, 0 and always quoted at a large isu | Mark yy on account of the scarcity of ieee th of. money. m All who had seen Scotb oF yu Xaiq -e o with it knew that he called it oak pighl! fallen mae coin,” and that he prized ib mM hat wd Thay es] He had changed his clothes nts Be tha} ask iI ing, leaving the coin in the pay out afte ter hice taken off, and, going for ib an if Ont oa he found it gone. va pind Manyenit Barney Breslin had ex ree lignes je Msty chare boldly about one whom he og that of} “Som, 7S taken the coin, as he had ase 007s I will met acadet coming out of and, Wye wo a Scott Clemmons and himself, ab pigh! D to the Sy the gold piece was returne@ | jig a Nong? fae would make his accusation PUP 49 whey it that } He would not give a hint rat neltto mH he suspected, but said: wt shal i H0 as “Wait until night, and ee » apd pel ty Slin ch cuse the one I deem the thi which ih yop a turned away to perform an a0 vats What it wine had won quite a reputator rian igtis “Ware was to walk around the pede ds. geo adn Cres of the gymnasium on his hay oyed Mled tg - “Can you do that, Merrill? “and wAnd ar Clemmons, who stood near manne of ‘Wateh. was a sneer in his tone an@ |< o¢ pes) ag eto, for} “I think so,” was the qimself « eh Mein > and Mark Merrill threw (ou iol] aig’ y, his hands and began to 8 if Joud psp oa stip son track, when suddenly, with ie d fro ooh rket, wh the missing gold piece 10 aso fila + VAL ocket amid almost a roar © rom his brother cadets. CHAPTER XXVIE 10’ A DOUBLE AccUS* , nad J GS ARNEY BRESLIN BA nis By 2) pleted his walk ei the BY io bh) around the track bal with ‘opel h : sium, and the appt measles ; Oe ame he had been greeted Aa 4 Mert 6 the bes hi Scott Clemmons askec Ma feat iat “s,°W he he could acccomplish @ Mee from anit . Typeak, 81 When the gold coi fe it of, MH Beye Was pocket and the loud muri pres! ce toes of ment was heard, Barney g the p { ‘yin €d his sprang forward, and, seiziD ns Ye : gold, cried: ij Clemm? f Bats Spe. “It is your luck coiD, a At hi Barn live!” ely thet pot] Men 4,' face “It certainly is, but Ste cole” sg alle Whe be some mistake, for Me! b pe, ito net on guilty of——” he js Pip, | ia i bee “I'll tell you now that ad As he approached the # i toy tebiv face flushed from his Pig sigan: f every eye was upon him, Oyht a or silence was upon all. Clemm Smee! 0 “You must. speak, by mnt sh h cannot be allowed to 8° Onga arp lin, breaking the silences at b, No " “Merrill, it | seeMS sot med,’ lery plished Breslin’s feat, ¥¢ mslin ye done something that Pea. as would not do,” said yo ‘ham? M “What is that, may fro? a ’ N; ons?” ‘ fy You dropped something pat m.- C) pocket awhile since? put y ih’ “Yes, I heard it droPentio® Of claim to it I paid no ab) oa in ie “You know what it WS) oka it ARE “Ah! yes, an octag’ a pr es’ to g Breslin stole from you be: t tay pocket, hoping to pre 6 Accom he was the cool response. e me Pan “Ha! you dare ac | thieger : thovgl | sete and, like a mad bull, Barney 1, oe ar fushed upon Mark Merrill. aie Would have interfered had 3 ; they ald ie Brewtte and a] 3 ol i | expected to see Barney ach TF his; M seize and crush Mark Merrill in sale re grasp. 1e ey is Phy be ‘astead they saw the huge bully cts 1, award With terrific force and meas- } ,,2!s len Ra PRT Ea that Bat Aum, gth upon the track of the gym . On ae. ! ie fot Mhay 1 O24 been dealt. a blow by Mark opu ero tor af-stunned him, and amazed all, © young sailor had never before S ao te th trifle“ ] Wn what he could do with his eed latent strength was never once not fo} nsbected, unless it was by Scott Clem- % With a . howl of rage Barney Breslin vs ; te rushed again upon Mark, who ecliDe of ack, Bresli . 411 veoret tat” adie 1 Breslin, or you will! regret it! inal met of defiance was Breslin’s only an- pled sid asa cadet struck up Mark’s Cn ng, + © was enabled to seize him in his oe ‘helt AR POWerful arms. an exh -tishowt! fora moment did he retain | ning 0 ‘Ys fogs nd ne was raised bodily: from of the Lotee th: (dashed to the floor with a ues lity. Shook the building, and he lay | t feclilé Pethoy dazed from the fall. DY pecalt civ astonished at Mark’s grand ex- ee row pot Strength, and glad as many ne pt ets. See Barney Breslin punished, the co a eet ace let the charge eee the "tl £0 by, and several called out: | rns haere ah you know nothing about : emit Yon» 9 Herrill, or it will go hard with ch isst@ Mark wa ; : ie faceg the not in the least disturbed, as Clem to : Ose who demanded an inquiry nis “Woe } Sid in igre! charge against him, and a big : fall ee uict way, as he stood over the roi he bi tay 22 nothing to say for myself, but pour af Mt whic; Dillingham to speak for me, i “Out Ich Mr. Nazro can speak.” ‘d pital Sangin it, Dillingham, if you can igved it sty ch ing to clear Merrill of this very 5 thal of Peon E>” said Cadet Captain Byrd “on \ 7 ea al Motte pty say that since we came it nig? the Ymnasium here Merrill came | lice yooh Nong? le and said that he had seen Clem- "40 wh re i that gold piece in Breslin’s hand, atl t Into hic appeared -to be trying to slip I shall yeh m0 Water, Merrill’s pocket, and asked f,” and | igtstin Me him. I did so, and I did see ‘nich iol trop A S very near Merrill and appear for, hs} What it qomething into his pocket, but rad ; This i I could not see.” ' get ess Cres wimony from Winslow Dilling- sked Fut K ated a sensation, which was “and wAnd vrhen Herbert Nazro said: Del neh ‘Wat errill whipered to me: t se5P oh oto, ah Breslin and see what he is nsell ihe men ; 4¢ has haunted me ever since I un | Py joud ri st patch him, and I distinctly saw ) fro gh Ket, spuething yellow into Merrill’s ase Cit bien ich now I will swear was_ the a Mons Which Clemmons lost. Now, th Herb? Who is the one you accuse?” : cmon rt Nazro turned upon Scott Male’ who responded: i donhs NO accusation, and yet I can- ham he evidence of yourself and gg tt Meuse mies you, Breslin, do you dare yords were uttered in a low tone, Aiea them, and Mark Merrill i he Breslin, who now stood be- Ow 7/8 face white, and bruised from Spey Ue had received. here sir ” Bog ns & very dangerous light in 0 ed hi Mark Merrill now, and there ing. “8 command a chorus of voices, ee Bat Speak |” nore 4h) tp hig¢ Mey Breslin uttered no word, wd pol "eto ce grew livid as his eyes roved Cee w! Whe’ Met, oh Scott Clemmons stood. { the” eh han haq b nly a cold stare from the man pres ly to hee his friend, and, placing his aroh ‘ “ttlked \ ead ina dazed sort of way, the i Fe atten” shall gly out of the gymnasium. ets ah tee hin, SPeak !” cried Mark, starting sand fell yo ‘7 Dut a dozen hands held him ig EIN al thi 9 Reed yrd Bascomb said: eB ye of it, Merrill, for he is the ! dy An oh, Mop Wo pore} «til.» Se, he well-nigh ruined you, Y ext 4 dog Ori wtded Herbert Nazro. , deat } Yo, to e on Merrill, but he accused it was his plot to have yw, Hy antl fot ®n your hands that the money neaid mond “he of your pocket,” and Scott at Sha eld out his hand: ott aoe sp ™P and decisive came the re- »C 1d ; . or tions, I will not take your Ce F Dh U0 are no more my friend than p Bi as a . . : high and en—] pity him, but despise ’ ( am, Ny ark walked away with Dil- 10? ’ 42ro, and Byrd Bascomb. pa iret ast Z CHAPTER XXVIIL. | Pie THE STORY TOLD. coi ity ARK aced mes br MERRILI’S first act was dav’ *t once to the officer of the the » and report the occurrence at Mpanpenasium. by Cadet Captain Byrd fists, | Bascomb, Herbert. Nazro, | Dillingham, who were there to vouch for the affair as stated, the officer of the day suggested that the young cadet go imme- diately to the commandant, and he would sive no order of arrest against Barney 3reslin until he heard from headquarters. It was decided then that Mark should | go alone to the commandant and tell his story, while the three cadets whom he had as witnesses would hold themselves in readiness to be called upon for their version of the affair. “There will be plenty more of us, Mer- rill, never fear, to report the affair as it occurred,” said Byrd Bascomb, “Yes, all there knew that you were at- tacked. by Breslin, which was_ reversing the old saying and adding injury to in- sult, to attempt to annihilate you after he had accused you of stealing; but, great Scott! what a knock down you gave him,” said Nazro, while Dillingham responded : “Oh, yes, Merrill can do it, as I have cause to remember he tumbled me into the drink,” and all three laughed at the remembrance, “Tt will go hard with Breslin, even if | he escapes arrest for stealing, for Clem- | mons gave him an awful ugly look when | he saw that he was the thief—that it was his room-mate who had robbed him,” said Dillingham. So Mark wended his way to headquar- ters, and the commandant, granting him an interview, he made aclean breast of the whole occurrence. The commandant listened with an at- tention that revealed the deepest interest, for it was something so thoroughly out of the usual run for one who was to be- come an officer in the navy to be accused of theft. Mischief untold, hazing, and even in- subordination, might be charged against the jolly young tars, but anything against their honor was a stigma too serious to be lightly thought of. | At last the commandant spoke, and in} 1” 2 € | military life where an officer goes wrong, a low, earnest tone: | lingham to watch Breslin’s movements?” | “YT did, sir, as his actions toward me | were curious, and I caught him trying to slip something in my pocket. It was done so slyly that had [ not been on the watch I would not have known it, but | both Cadets Nazro and Dillingham saw |him do it, and, of course, when I was | challenged to do his feat I accepted and | the coin rolled out.” “Did he challenge you?” “No, sir, Clemmons did.” “And who accused you?” “TI continued my hand-walk around GOoonD NEWS. 411 and Winslow | “Tt was of little moment, sir; but one { ment, Dillingham’s, and so on until all {day I went up from my home to B—— to|}had been heard, and no comment was sell a toy ship I had .made, to get money | made in the presence of the cadets, but needed for my mother, who was ill. | the officers were left to discuss the case Clemmons and a few. of his mates, in a | among themselves. spirit of amusement, Set upon me, and my ship was broken. This angered me, and I used my fists, and we were arrested.” “With what result?” “A seaman had taken my part, and he was also arrested by the constable; but the judge made the lads pay me for my toy ship, and released the sailor and my- self.” “I. am glad to see, Merrill, that you have told a very modest and uncom- promising story of the affair, for I have here a letter from a witness, and he is not /as lenient toward the lads who assailed you,” and ina quick glance at a letter which the commandant turned back over a file to find, Mark saw the name of “Jack Judson.” Then the commandant continued: “T have received several other letters from your old home, all of them com- promising, but as they were anonymous | simply retain them for reference, as only a coward will refuse to put his name to an accusation against one he maligns. You can go to your quarters now, to await further orders.” Mark saluted and departed from head- quarters, when moned an orderly and gave him the list of the cadets whose names he had taken down, ordering their presence before him. CHAPTER XX1IX. THE ALTERNATIVE. O high is the standard of honor ~. among Uncle Sam’s cadets that ~Y one’s word is as good as his bond in “ all things, and a man who would | go wrong and do a despicable thing is de- “You requested Cadets Nazro and Dil- | spised and ostracised by his comrades at once. Instances are very rare in naval and though now and then one does hear that a paymaster, quartermaster, or commis- isary has gotten his accounts in a tan- gle, or that some officer has been guilty (of a “shady transaction” to get out of | debt; but, as I have said, the instances are so rare that when they do occur they come as a shock upon the whole service, afloat and ashore. In the little world, then, at the Naval School, the going wrong of Barney Bres- lin was.a blow to the cadets which all keenly felt. It was like a disgrace upon them all to | track, sir, and Cadet Clemmons asked me | to try and place tne dishonor of his act |to explain how it was I had his luck | upon a fellow cadet. | coin.” | “And your answer?” “T told him that I had no claim to it, as Breslin had stolen it from him and slipped it into my pocket, a fact corrobo- rated by Cadets Dillingham and Nazro.” “And he attacked you?” “Yes, sir, and 1 knocked him down.” “ And then?” “He arose and rushed upon me again.” “No one interfered?” “Yes, sir; but his movements were very quick, and——” “Contrary to his usual manner,” dryly said the commandant. “As he rushed upon mea second time, sir, some one struck my hand upward, and he grasped me, so I had to throw him, and I did so witha force which I intended should prevent a continuance of the fracas.” “Then you acted only in self-defense?” “ Yes; sir;” “How many cadets were in the gymna- sium at the time?” “ About one-third of the corps, I should say, sir.” “Name others who were there?” Mark did so, while the commandant jotted down the names, until he had fully a score on the list, men from the va- rious classes, and some of them cadet offi- cers, who had witnessed the affair. the commandant said: “Merrill, in what way have you ever offended Breslin?” “T was not aware that I had done so, sir?” “Yet he has never been friendly toward you?” “No, sir.” “You have done nothing to anger him?” “T have seldom spoken to him, sir.” “Did it ever strike you that he was one of your persecutors when the demerits rolled up against you in the earlier part of the year?” “IT have no evidence that he was.” “And in what way have you wronged Clemmons?” “TI prefer not to speak of what occurred prior to my coming to the academy, sir.” “You admit that there was trouble be- tween you?” “Yes, sir, we had some trouble one “T desire to hear your statement of it.” Then, after a few moments of silence, . The young sailors gathered about in knots and discussed the affair. Not the shadow of a cloud rested upon the commandant sum- | ! } In the meanwhile the door of Breslin’s room was closed against all admission, except the well-known knock of Scott Clemmons, That youth returned from making known his room-mate’s “explanation,” to find him seated at his study table, writ- ing. Breslin was very pale and nervous, and Scott Clemmons wore a painfully anx- ious look, too. “Well?” said Breslin, as Clemmons en- tered. The latter threw himself into his chair, and said: “Tt won’t go.” “You read it?” “ce Yes. ” “What did they say?” “Nothing.” “That’s good.” “That’s bad, for their silence is worse than their chin music.” “Have you seen Merrill?” “He is in his room under orders.” “Well, what am I to do?” “Resign, I should say, and at once.” “T half thought of it, and, in fact, had written a letter to the commandant; but then——” “What?” “My father will not let me come home.” “Try your mother.” “Tt will do no good, for the old man runs the house.” “There is one thing certain.” “What is that?” “If you don’t resign you'll be dis- missed.” “Oh, Lord!” “Tf you were not, the cadets would cut you dead, never speak to you except offi- cially, for they have got a standard of honor here which only an angel could hope to attain to.” “You had better resign, then, too?” “Why?” “You are no angel.” “That’s rather good for you, Breslin; your trouble seems to have sharpened your wit.” “Well, if I resign you ought to do so, too, or——” “Or what?” “T cannot go home.” “Try it.” “I will, but I know the old man.” “Well, if you do not, get work and re- deem yourself in his opinion.” “T have no money, as you know, so if the | have one not only be guilty of theft, but |] go you must go, too, or——’ “Or what, Breslin?” “Or support me,” and there was an ugly look came over the face of the disgraced cadet. “IT do not understand,” faltered Scott Mark Merrill, but sympathy was felt for |} Clemmons. him that he should have been the victim | of the thief. Breslin had sent out an explanation of | his act after going to his room. i He had often borrowed the luck coin |and carried it for days, and that day he jihad found it on the floor, where Clem- mons must have dropped it, and.so had put itin his pocket, intending later to | tive | return it. Not seeing Clemmons until they had met in the gymnasium, and then learning about his supposed loss, he had said ' nothing about having it, and in a spirit of fun had put it in Merrill’s pocket, in- tending to explain the joke, as he called it, after it had been discovered who had t. But Merrill had accused him, Breslin, of being the thief, and so in his anger he had resented it. Such was Barney Breslin’s explanation, as written by him, and read to the cadets — by Scott Clemmons, who was inclined to | accept it as the truth. But. the cadets were not so lenient as was Scott Clemmons. They knew that Breslin had _ certainly allowed the belief that Mark Merrill was the thief, and he had offered no explana- tion then and there of his conduct. They received his lame explanation as that of a man who was drowning “catch- | ing at a straw.” They knew that Mark Merrill had _ re- ported himself as having struck a fellow cadet a blow, and that he had doubtless given his reason for so doing, which they adjudged a good one. What the commandant would think re- mained to be seen. The commandant’s orderly had been “seen in the land,” as they, the cadets, expressed it, and, as a result, certain uni- formed gentlemen from. the different classes were seen wending their way toward headquarters. . Byrd Bascomb gave his version of the affair in the presence of several officers of the academy, but with no cadet present other than himself. : The .commandant’s secretary jotted Herbert Nazro’s state- down his testimon Then followed ‘me until I get a good | “Then I will make it so clear that you can grasp it. I said that if I resign you must do the same, or you must support position, when I can take care of myself. Do you under- stand now, Clemmons?” It seemed that Scott Clemmons did, for his face turned deadly pale at the alterna- iven him by the cadet who now & at bay. (TO BE CONTINUED.) >_> §, & §. MANUAL LIBRARY, stoo This series comprises hand-books of in- formation on many useful and interesting subjects. They are carefully compiled from the best sources and connot fail to please the reader, Issued Semi-Monthly. Price 10 Cents. 1—The Album Writer’s Assistant. 2—The Way to Dance. 3—The Way to do Magic. 4—The Way to Write Letters. 5—How to Behave in Society. G—Amateur’s Manual of Photography. 7—Onut-of-Door Sports. 8—How to do Business. No. 9—The Young Gymnast. No. 10—The Hunter and Angler. No. 1 1—Short-Hand for Everybody. No. 12—The Taxidermist’s Mannal. No. No. comes pins Any of the above books will be sent to any address on receipt of price, 10 cents, postage prepaid, by the publishers, Street & Smith 81 Rose St. New York. 412 CHOOD NEw s. S ~ Sn Rd SS 1S SN \ RSS \’ \ \ S34 EDWARD S. MARTIN. ROLL OF HONOR—No. 8. ~~ War Heroes. (During the late war, and immediatelyjafter theffirst | battle of Bull Run, it was proposed that a certain dis- tinctive medal should be ywiven to soldiers who particu- larly distinguished themselves for bravery, the same to be cast from cannon captured in battle, and from this proposition resulted the resolution of Congress, On Marc’: 3, 1863, the act was amended in order that ofticers and men of the navy might be included, and the Unitea States had 7 set a value upon bravery, not of money, but a Aa yet this Roll of Honor has been made only by the War Department, and to each name, representing the bravest of Our brave, but a single line i During the past two years the com- yiler of these records has used every effort to gain rom the owners of medals an account| of the actions in which they were won, and the resultis that the different stories have really been told by those who (No. 43), approved July 12, 1862. finall cena distinction. has been wiven. alone could give all the details.) With Farragut. Winning a Medal in Mobile Bay while the Admiral was lashed to the rigging, as told by the Hero himself, Epwarp 8S. Marrin. aXe ct ow a ‘NB eS. U. S. S. Galena, was Edwin Jones, and it is decidedly interesting to Government hear why he appears on the records as Edward S, Martin. The question was asked of him a few days ago, and the following is his an- swer: “In 1857, I, then being an orphan, was bound as apprentice to the firm of Evans & Watson, tire-proof safe manufacturers work as hard as any boy of eighteen could well perform, I had learned by sad experience that my wages of two dollars per week was not sufficient to pay for board and was a question of did not feel like doing either Lran away to sea, shipping under the name of Martin to hide my identity, because, if caught by had been, apprenticed, they could send me to the House of Refuge in Philadelphia. After a year of purchase clothes. It g@ing hungry or naked, and as [| those to whom during my minority. “In this line of work I earned consider- ably more cash, as well as receiving food and lodging, and could clothe myself in|that the Tecumseh had been sun As Martin something like decent shape. CPAHE baptismal name of the young} the man who won the Medal of Honor in Mobile Bay while on board the ward transferred to the Galena with rank of quartermaster. It is hardly necessary to repeat, when all must know them so well, the reasons why Farragut led his fleet into Mobile Bay. It is sufficient to say that when the vessels went into action they were lashed together in pairs, side by side, stripped of their top-hampers, and otherwise made ready for what was known must be a des- perate engagement. In this double line of formidable war ships the Galena and Oneida brought up the rear, a position where they must of a necessity receive even more punishment than those in the advance. As quartermaster, Martin had charge of the wheel; but to do the actual work of handling the spokes one first-class and one ordinary seaman were detailed. The task of steering the Galena was difficult, owing to the fact of her being made fast to another craft, and Martin stood where he could observe clearly every signal from the admiral. Slowly the huge vessels approached the forts; the August sun had dispersed the fog and vapor, and objects could. be seen distinctly for many’ miles.. Even the black muzzles of the powerful guns mounted on the fortifications and water batteries were brought out in bold relief, destruction. —— ee Tee or run aground where she could be shelled at leisure by the forts and batteries. “To the wheel, quartermaster! To the wheel!” Captain Welles shouted, and Martin obeyed calmly, grasping the spokes just as the Confederate ram Ten- nessee advanced toward the Galena, send- ing shot after shot across the deck, amid the rigging, or into the hull. Solid planks were torn up, the splin- ters, quite as dangerous as fragments of shells, were hurled in every direction, and at times the brave man at the wheel was literally covered with shreds of wood and rope. On, steadily on the two vessels steamed, their huge guns causing them to quiver as each broadside was fired, and from all the fortifications came the reply, until it seemed impossible that any one could survive the terrible storm over which death in every form presided. As if indifferent to the scenes of horror around him, Martin stands at the watching every signal, when suddenly a shell strikes the Oneida’s boilers, causing one of them to explode, and instantly the lower portion of the vessel is filled with | scalding vapor. The shock throws men on the headlong; but the noise as the Bone steam escapes is lost amid the horrible and those on the fleet saw, while yet| din. some distance away, the yawning mouths An instant later, when the two vessels from out of which would soon come shot |are exposed to the hottest flre, terrible and shell on their errands of death and |screams are heard, sounding shrill above {all the tumult, and the engineer, one of AND MARTIN DI SHIP BE SE A BOY COMES THAT WAY, WHETHER THE It was seven o’clock in the when the U. S. S. Tecumseh sent a shell which exploded over Fort Morgan, and the battle had begun. Soon all the ships were engaged, and the hideous din told that brave men were killing and being killed in their ideas of duty. In a short time obedience to the word was eg kK; but | that ninety-three of her officers and crew I was and felt more independent, for my | were killed or drowned amid the terrible acquaintances were unable to make sport | shower of iron fortunately no one on of me on the score of being what might | board the Galena knew at this time. almost be called a ragamuffin, anc t Immediately after this, and while all signed it. when the country had need of!on the two rear vessels were probably defenders, although a man can stand up | > & I hame as to be shot at as well under one another.” The official record of why the medal was awarded Martin is given as_ follows | in the book published by the Navy De- partment: “Edward S. Martin, Quartermaster on board of the U. S. S. Galena. “During the action in Mobile Bay, An the wheel while towing the U. S. S. Oneida by Forts Morgan and Gaines, which ves- that He dis- | played coolness and great courage on that | gust 5, 1864, he was stationed at sel had become disabled by a shell exploded her starboard boiler. trying occasion.” When Jones ran away from the employ- was not only distasteful, but failed to provide him with sufficient to purchase the barést necessities of life, he served as seaman in the merchant. ser- after a long voyage, he learned that such as he were sorely needed by the country, and without hesitation enlisted in the Navy, January 20, 1863, being first assigned . to after- ment which vice until, arriving at Baltimore duty on the U.S. S. Georgia, an wondering what was to be their fate | when the ships came within range of those screaming missiles, a solid shot from the water battery crossed the deck, cutting away one of the port quarter-boat | davits, and sending showers of splinters in every direction. This warning of the ‘worse damage which was soon to be inflicted caused the eldest of the two seamen to lose his small remnant of courage, and he stood shaking like one in an ague fit, his nerveless arms hanging idly by his side as the steamer began to yaw in the direction of that portion of the channel where it was known torpedoes had been planted thickly in the hope of destroying some of the fleet. Almost at the same instant the Oneida’s | wheel was completely destroyed by a sec- ond shot, and a third cut off the arm of Captain J. R, M. Mullany, who was in |command of the last-named vessel. The battle opening thus suddenly and with so much carnage completely shat- tered the nerves of the steersman, and there was every danger that through his cowardice the ship would be destroyed Seed Hy Wh D ij, = OG Yl Za Mh CLES 4 Bi “7, We, RECTS HIM TO GO FORWARD AND INDICATE NT TO PORT OR STARBOARD, below to the Oneida’s deck, screaming and yelling in the madness the boiler exploded. | Everywhere around are men mangled and crushed out of recognizable form by shot or shell, but nothing in the shape of human suffering is half so trying to the nerves as this spectacle of dying men running to and fro in the vain attempt to find relief from their anguish. | Until this moment the pilot at his post bravely; but the roar of the cannon, the cries of the wounded, and, above all, the writhing figures darting from stem to stern, proves too much. the extremity of his fear he runs into the cabin, hiding amid the sand-bags, and at the wheel, unable to see over the fore- castle, is Martin, steering blindly along a narrow channel thickly bestrewn with engines of death. No one pays any attention to him; the officers know a brave man is at the wheel, and direct all their energies to silencing the enemy. } 22d who on the evening of the approaching with the pur- Gray was intending to meet but h m at a greater distance from + theres ad been unavoidably delayed, ment. struck him down at the festinaty When the poor man was near fh 1on. His pack he had brought vthere © doubt thinking to drive here as k None ty come with me,’ said the m You ti Gray, ‘and I will keep an bike ary il T have a warrant for your A tj he But even the sheriff “D to ht tened till the minister whis- Tete nee ‘It is no ghost—go on.’ of ., “he dumb, and a rapid inter- and ns now took place between an yopectral peddiler. » he finally exclaimed, turn- : eke about him, ‘is a brother Mt bie ~* they were twins, bearing thw. semblance to each other, Pateq eet dlers. They had_ been ana 7,22d he has arrived here » their native country, only er murdered. Upon the Some of the circumstances, € procession in time to f We turned from the grave. §) Bet the was a proficient in the | @ |}, . 0 ed X Howe he et Us Ing often been mistaken er, and ' wh Bi hast Gray he intuitively it occurred to him a able Vas the time to profit by the re- i “Gelance. c Met te Tay had fainted, and my Mage ouy posted that she should be_car- } long POceed The minister and the haip sued there also. Margaret’s ini . loose and swept the floor, + i. pigs at its wonder- Boy i Yeauty. The peddler gazed lang ae face, and again the man- a, © between himself and the €xplained the latter, ‘that Mily jt Of an ancient and remark- tle ps4) Cornwall, that years ago e ., and her mother Ps ship- en, eae The child was known n mely landed, together with ‘Dro ing her title to a large ty when she should come “Ne confusion, being left hong some of the dwellers » both child and trunk were . aan could never after be nb lhbors dler was then a resident a Vion) eae though his brother Of Se eft, but the latter was in- Teumstance by letters from Writt. Short time since the de- €n that he had seen in the eter Gray—also_ originally ~a little girl who strongly of the pelapoole family. a and dumb men, how- ‘“quainted with Peter pre- Ugration, montinued the minister, the Dele of a pecaitenty in the in i en ii ’pooles esides that of a in Paw of features and luxu- OM the € females. They are de- 7; enowned Duke of Suf- € la Poole, the counselor f th earet of Anjou; and it the p“Cuntry that ever since Pach }, Ses the females of the tne upon the. left. arm the distinct impression of a redrose. The lost child; he says, was thus distin- guished, as was her beautiful mother—as if the blood of John of Gaunt would as- sert itself while a drop of it remains. I have little faith in such tradition of a simple people, still in the case of young Margaret,’ he continued, speaking in a low voice, for Margaret was in an ad- joining room—‘I have some curiosity upon the point. . “Then mother told him of what she had seen when Margaret’s sleeve was torn in the grapearbor. The minister was greatly interested, and replied that a further con- fession must be had from old Peter Gray. “Such a confession was on that very day obtained. Peter had stolen the child and the papers, preserving the, former for the sake of the latter, and long he had dreamed of some advantage which might accrue to. himself through the writing when Margaret should have become of age and heshould bid her claim the estate. “Peter Gray died soon after in prison, and the beautiful descendant of “Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,’ remained long an inmate of our home. In due time she entered upon the possession of her English heritage, but her acquisi- tion of wealth and her marriage to a worthy earl did not induce forgetfulness of earlier and humbler friends. And this, children, is mv history of the blue- coated peddler.” —__—__~+- 0» “HAZING A FRESH.” cling BY JEROME RETLAW. ———¢———— om ° LLIE Fulton sat in a corner of the €) school-yard attached to. Mills’ Select Academy for Young Gentlemen, very intently absorbed in aletter he was reading. He was a richly-dressed youth, with an abundance of brown, clustering ringlets clinging to his well-shaped head. As he read, a twinkle of merrimedt in his eye changed to a faint smile, which, gradually broadening, almost deepened into a down- right laugh. When he had finished the perusal of this pleasing epistle, without changing his posi- tion, he gave a peculiarly long and clear whistle. In thirty seconds he was reading a por- tion of the letter to his chums, Sam Wilson and Barney Donahue. ‘Probably you have not forgotten,” so the letter ran, ‘the little orphan, Jim Judson, who used to do errands for the judge, your father. He is now about your own age, though, I doubt not, much stronger and tall- er, for of late he has been apprenticed to Jones, the blacksmith, and you know work of the Vulcan order is very conducive to the healthfulness and increase of the muscles. Well, that same youth has risen considerably in the last week. On 'l'uesday, his brother, who has been away many years, came home, and it is whispered around by those who ought to know, that he brought with him a cart-load of gold. Jim’s brother, of course, immediately relieved the blacksmith of his charge. I hear@from your brother this morning that, in a week’s time, Jim Judson CAs” ‘would be a schoolboy, not at the village school here, but at Mills’ Select Academy for Young Gentiemen. “Now, cousin, dear, don’t torment the poor fellow, as you and your ‘crowd’ usually do a ‘fresh; for Ihave taken quite a fancy to this young Croesus, with his big blue eyes and honest face. “As ever, your loving cousin, “Grace NEWNAN.” The trio looked into each other's eyes, and each read the other’s thoughts. “We won't worry him?” suggested Ollie. “To be course not,” said Sam. ‘Not by no means,” remarked Barney. The most casual observer could not fail to notice that these remarks were made in tones of the supremest sarcasm. “Shall we hang him?’ “Or drown him ?” “Or burn him ?” ‘Must his decease be occasioned by in- ternal agents, or shall'we resort to external methods ?” “Can gentlemen allow a blacksmith’s ap- prentice to ‘mix’ with them, and feed on the same enticing viands, to wit: Chicken- shadow soup and sawdust?” 2 “Bring out yer corn-cob,” cried Barney, at this juncture; “let the council of war set.” An old corn-cob pipe was called into re- quisition, and. atter. smoking, the council “set.” A half hour afterward the three emerged from their ‘‘corner” looking as inno- cent as dead lambs on a March ‘morning. These boys, Ollie’s crowd, commonly called ‘*The Three.” were the most unruly members of Professor Mills’ institution. Never sings their combination. had @ fresh , boy escaped the initiating ceremonies they had prepared for him. These ceremonies were new in every case. Hence a consultation was held over every new student. Before his arrival his ‘‘trou- ble” was usually completely planned, and only awaited his presence to be immediately and neatly executed. So, after a week, when Jim Judson’s shadow was first cast on the school-yard of Mills’ Select Academy, Ollie and his “crowd” were ready for him. Ollie took especial pains to ingratiate him- self into the favor of the new student. He showed him around the school-grounds, ex- plaining every little corner of that extensive piece of land. Coming from the same town, Jim naturally felt drawn toward the curly-headed, warm- hearted youth, and cordially received him into full fellowship. So he did not refuse when Ollie asked him to visit with him one of his lady friends. In fact Jim was glad enough to go, and become acquainted with this dashing young lady whom Ollie so glow- ingly described. To tell the plain, unvar- nished truth, Ollie was very much interested in this charming young damsel. To be sure, only to his chums, Sam and Barney, had he hinted his purpose to one day make Dora Dean his bride. But, nevertheless, it was town talk with everybody, except the Deans. Dora was perfectly innocent of anything of the kind, though she did rather like the handsome young student. “Well,” thought Ollie, as he and Jim Jud- son set forth upon their visit, ‘“‘this shall be the last. I am nearly twenty now, and must drop all my boyish tricks. This will be a fitting climax to my wonderfully successful course of three years. I have only six months more at old Mills’, and I shall oc- cupy that time in winning the fair Dora.” On the route the young men passed through a dense forest. While they were in it, Ollie shuddered audibly several times. “There is a ghastly story connected with that. wood,” he said;-as they gained the open country. “I willtell it to you on our way back. Here we are,” stopping before a neat and well-proportioned residence. During their stay with Dora Dean, Jim Judson rather surprised Ollie Fulton, who had not thought that so much good sense, gallantry, and vivacity could possibly be shown by a blacksmith’s apprentice. As for Jim, Dora’s sweet, clear eyes had found a very tender spot in his heart. Nearly the whole evening, however, was oecupied by Ollie’s recital of some of the many practical jokes he had played on var- ious persons since he had taken up his abode at Mills’ Academy, three years previously. “And now, Mr. Fulton,” said the bewitch- ing Dora, when he had finished, “tell us of some others in which you came out second best.” “Miss Dora,” said Fulton, solemnly, “in | all my pranks I have, without an exception, | come out successful. self upon being the king of this part of the | country as regards practical joking. estly, I really think it impossible for any one to catch me asleep.” Soon after that remark they departed. When the students reached the dense part of the deep forest through which they had gone, Jim reminded Ollie of his promise. “Well, I'll tell you the story, though there is not much of it, to be sure. It was on a dark and stormy night some two years ago when Abner Smith, and his son, a young man of twenty, left the village, and started for home. It was known that Abner hada goodly sum of money on his person. He was warned that to come through here after nightfall was a dangerous thing, but he was somewhat obstinate, and swore that he would sleep that night in his own bed, Af- ter entering this wood, he was never again seen alive. The next morning his body was found. There was a horrid gash in his head, and from his breast protruded acruel bowie- knife. The son was discovered sitting by his father’s side, muttering to himself in an idiotic manner, and dabbling his hands in the dead man’s blood. And at the present time he roams this forest stark mad, always erying: ‘Blood! blood ! It is even now considered unsafe for a person to pass through here after dark, for the place is said to be infested by robbers. Ha! what was that ?” starting, as if frightened. “Nothing.” “But I see——Great Heaven! Fly! fly!” Suddenly on each side of the road there was a sharp click—a bright flash—a keen re- port. Ollie fell, mortally. wounded. “Fly! fly! Itisa band of robbers!” he gasped to Jim, who in a very calm manner had bent over him. ‘Iam past all human aid!» Save yourself !” ‘Never will Jim Judson desert a friend,’ cried that young man, pouring the contents Hon- | of a small vial over the face and folded hands of the recumbent Ollie, ‘‘while in his hands there is so potent a healer of pistol- wounds as the solution of nitrate of silver.” “The blazes!” cried Fulton, bouncing to his feet in a manner rather unbecoming a dead man. Rushing to a stream which near by trickled across the pathway, he began to fur- iously dash the water into his face. But it was useless. The magic charm had done its work. His face was of an inky blackness. The reader will not be surprised to learn that Sam and Barney soon appeared on the scene. When they saw their leader’s lovely coun- tenance they roared with laughter, until he threatened to stop their mouths with mud. “Hail, King of Ethiopia!’ cried Sam, making a mock salute. ‘“Hi-yi, Sambo!” laughed Barney. For a while Ollie was the maddest fellow in America. ‘J'hen, collecting his scattered ideas, he made a -bee-line for his boarding- house, where he remained ‘‘not at home” for a week or two. By that time the townsfolk, in some mys- terious manner, had got wind of the affair, and Ollie-found Bradford too hot to hold him, for so joyous were the people that the champion plague of the county had been routed, that they nightly serenaded him. The music on these occasions, as may be supposed, was more noted for loudness than elegance. Meanwhile Jim Judson was “putting in time” at the Dean mansion. So persistent were his attentions to Dora that she soon succumbed to his eloquence, and promised to be Mrs. Jim when he should graduate. Therefore, when Ollie Fulton came to Bradford, a year later, with the fond hope of winning that very interesting young lady, he found, to his sorrow, that he was too late. “I played a thousand jokes successfully,” he was wont to say in after years, with an expression of disgust, “and then, to cap the climax, I lost a wife by failing in ‘hazing a fresh.’ ” —_ + _9-- FIFTY CENTS. The above amount includes postage on one of our handsome binders. It is, with- out doubt, the finest binder ever offered, even for double the price we ask, and is in- dispensable to those who are keeping their papers, as it not only preserves Goop Nxws for future reference, and from being lost, but keeps them clean and in good order. It is both useful and ornamental. In fact, I pride my- || i Tt 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 as 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 and has never been offered at this low figure before by any publisher. Plainly stated, our reason for offering this binder below cost is as a means of advér- tising. —_—— ~» eo »> — —_ No Postage Stamps. Old Man—If that young jidiot in the parlor ain’t got sense enough to‘make shorter calls, he might as well be of some use. Ask him if he can Spare me a postage stamp.” Daughter (after a trip to, the parlor)—‘He says he’s very sorry, but he called at the post-office to- day to renew his supply of postage stamps, but he hadn't) anything smaller than a five hundred dollar bill in his vest-pocket, and ‘they couldn't change that.” ; “Rb? By Jinks! Well, you ninny, ‘go back to the parlor. Don't you know better than to Jeave your company alone like that?” erent - 416 Puzzle Corner. {Original contributions solicited. Please do not send puzzles containing obsolete words. _Address, “Puzzle Editor” Goop News, New York City, P. O. Box 273A.)] > Explanations of the different puzzles and their meaning. CryproGRaM.—Secret character or cipher writing. EniGMa.—An obscure statement whose hidden mean- ing is to be discovered. : ; UZZLE OR RippLE.—A bewildering question for solution. 3 REsus.—Enigmatical representation of words by figures ; a riddle made up of such representations, TRANSPOSITION.—Lo substitute one for the other. MErraMoRPHOsIS.—Chanye of form, shape, or struc- ture ; transformation. ANAGRAMS.—A transposition of the letters of a name; forming anew word. |. ; é ; Acrostic.—A composition usually in verse, in which the first letter of every line, read collectively, form a name or sentence. ; LocoeripHs.—A word which may be treated as a metayram, decapitation, detation, and transposition, but leaves a perfect word after each operation. MeraGRAM.—Change the first letter of a word to form another word. CHARADES.—Formed on a word each syllable of which is a word. DECAPITATION.—Drop the first letter of a word, leav- ing another word. ae ERBAL CHARADE.-—-A word, each letter of which is treated seperately No. 1—FRACTIONAL ADDITIONS. One-sixth of oxygen; one-sixth of lodger; one- sixth of exodus; one-sixth of cotton; one-sixth of factor; one-sixth of kurkee; one-sixth of saccic; one-sixth of picket; one-sixth of. simple, one- sixth of stigma; one-sixth of yonder. Sum up and bring what all people are talking about at present. Ep. 1. SUN, No. 2—DECAPITATION. Whole, I am a loud noise; behead, and you will have a kind of eruption; behead again, and you will have a name of a tree. Katy Dip. No. 8—Cross WorD ENIGMA. 1 In dine, not in eat; 2 In limb, not in feet; 8 In Andrew, not in John; 4 In hymn, not in song; 5 In one, not in five; 6 In honey, not in hive; 7 In wind, not in air; Whole is a jewel, costly and _— No. 4—DIAMOND PUZZLE. - 1 A consonant. 2 A pronoun. 3 Slaughter. 4 Renewal. 6 A wanderer. 6 A carriage. 7 Acon- sonaat, Moritz. No. 5—HIDDEN CITIES. 1 He will do very well, sir. 2 Not Will, but Ted did the deed, 3 He is the victor, I am the loser. 4 I can win on a cliess board. 6 Quit, Oscar, when I tell you. 6 Nero met a traitor and was slain. 7 Noab’s was a heavy ark, and was full of animals. 8 They cost ten cents pcr the hundred, 9 Through America I ream. 10 Jack, go to the den very near the shore, MILLIE, No. 6—DOUBLE ACROSTIC. The primals and finals, read down, name two great battles. 1 A present. 2 An annual plant. 3 Tough. 4 Stil. 5 A guif of Asia. 6 A part of a month, 7 To join. 8 Brains, No. 7—INCOMPLETE SENTENCES. The blanks are to be filled with the same word transposed. 1 Did — shoot the —? 2 Was — the — watcher? 8 Did he — the — of animals? 4 The — was ate by the —? Breau K. TONY. No. 8—REBUS. Ausirers to Puzzles in No. 26 Good News, No, 1— aus sse i att dible aom ea npresent dagt e Cestennial. epee Z4znyAZna ZOHHHnOWM " {tt Exposition. $ No. 2— P ‘ No. 3— No. 4~— 1 T-omask. 2 J-ava. 8 R-hone, 4 P-each. No, 5— No. 6— Peter Cooper. Lightning. Troy. agl ugh as anc E the R Eagle. Ether. Cove, rove, dove, love, move. ANSWER TO REBUS IN NO, 25. B ler A nd es No, T— = ® Orns ct o> al 5 Z Pobern. Mripwtin wm ou GrooDpD NEW S. STORK AND THE YROG.: nM i i), i/ | sel } UA li {fd gee | atti i A Romance Without Words. Short Stops. IF a man could pluck every rose he saw, how full of thorns his hands would be! If you would be popular with all men, reprove the wise and flatter the foolish. THE most disagreeable hatred in the world is hatred for a relative you dislike. Ir you had been deceived as often as the world, you would be just as incredulous, So many things start off with a brass band that wind up with a lonely horn at the end. Tue rich are very apt to think that the poor don’t want the things they can’t have. You hear very little about idealism from the man who has tried to be his own ideal, Ir we paid a penny for some men’s thoughts, how thoroughly we should be cheated, CALIFORNIA fruit has been more generally used at the East this season than ever before. THE hardest work a man does is the work he does not do because he dreads to begin it. How natural it is to like the man who says your work is the hardest kind of work there 1s, THERE are 2,000 canning factories in this country, and the canners all do a rushing business, “Drip your father leave a will?” “No; no will—nothing but plain everyday bills.” Ergut years ago the town of Roanoke, Va., had 400 inhabitants. 1t now has a population of 20,000. THE census returns of New Hampshire show a gain of 30,000 in population during the last ten years. MAINE’s population 1s officially given at 658,454, = increase of 9,600;; Vermont’s at 322,000, a slight ecrease, WItitaM IJ. of Germany, served inthe armyas a full private before he had attained his 7th year. At 17 he was in action. JUST A PIECE.—She —‘‘And now, George, shall I sing you a piece 2” He—‘‘Yes, please—not the whole.” BOATMAN—‘Were you ever in a squall ?” Landlubber—‘‘I should say so. [ tried for an hour last night to stop the baby’s crying.” THE largest sailing vessel afloat was launched at Glasgow. Sheisa five-masted ship of 8,750 tons burden, and is intended for the nitrate trade. TTR it, sir, do you think I’m a fool ?” New Butler—‘‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I ain’t been here long enough to find out yet.” Silent sat the bridal pair, Fearful of the cold world's stare ; But I knew them in a trice— They were labelled well with rice. Jounny Cumso—‘‘Papa, isn’t the Cape of Good Hope many times its original size now ?” Cumso—‘‘What makes you ask that question ?” Johnny Cumso—“Well, I know thatit has been doubled often.” FrepEM—‘Send over six pounds of tea, will ou?” Sandham—*‘Certainly. Green or black ?” Feedem—‘Blackest you've got. I’m cate r for a big colored wedding on the West Side,” te Qur Mail. Bag. {Questions on subjects of general interest only are dealt with in the ‘Mail Bag.” Medical or legal uestions not answered. Goop Nrws goes to press wo weeks in advance of date of Epelication. and there fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks after we receive them.} ——@——— J. W. (Philadelphia, Pa.)—Yes. G. P. N. (Newark, N. J.\—Not at present time. A, G. R. Hadley, N. Y.)—You have the same privi- leges. a £ (Philadelphia, Pa.)—Read answer to Harry in 0. 25. Grimsey, Jr. (Philadelphia, Pa.)—Any druggist will tell you. C. L. (Chicago, Il.)—We pay all postage on premiums and papers. R. A. L. (Chicago).—The population of Birmingham, Ala., is 40,000. J. 0. G. (Columbus, O.)—Read “Short Talks with the Boys” in No. 17. H. C. F. Danville, Va.)\—We have all the humorous matter we can use. V. L. (Philadelphia, Pa.)}—There is no premium on the coins you name. O. K. F. (Pottstown, Pa.)—The binder will hold 52 copies of Goop NEws, FE. F. G. (Idaho Springs, Col.}.—No premium on the coin you write about. A. E. (Council Bluffs, Ia.)—Write to Spalding Bro.’s, Broadway, New York. Reader (Omaha. Neb.)}—The Goop NeEws stories will not appear in book form. L. J. (New Haven, Conn.)}—-Write to the Electrical World, 41jPark Row, N. Y. Prof. G. W. H. (West Hurley, N. Y.~—The expression you make use of is correct. C. T. (Baltimore, Md.)—The authors you mention will all appear again in a short time in Goop Nrews. F. A. T. (Brant Rock, Mass.)—It is a preparation known only to the government. A. T. L. (Chicago, 11.)—You did not send us the an- swer to the puzzle you contributed. P. G. F. (Chicago, Tl.)\—Your letter is very amusing. Many thanks for your kind expressions. EB. G. (Washington, D. C.)\—Do not use soap on your face. Wash your face with warm water. Snake (Cincinnati, O.)\—We will soon publish a long article on the subject you inquire about. A Heckiy Peruser (Washington, D. C.)—1. Yes. 2. We have heard the rumor, but it is not a fact. L. M, (Los Angeles, Cal.)}—Cut out the coupons and send us the set complete. We pay all postage. S. C. (Washington, D. C.)}—Write to the college direct. They will be pleased to send you full particulars. W. C. B. (Ballston Spa, N. Y.)—We do not know of any premium on copper pennies dated previous to 1793. S. E. K. (Plattsmouth, Neb.)—When you have secured twelve coupons send them to us with your selections. U. M. (Shreveport, La.}—You can remove paint from glass by rubbing it well with turpentine or ammonia. G. J. K. (Ravenels, 8. C.)}—Write to the commandant a Schoolship Minnesota, at Brooklyn, N. Y., navy y C. H, S, (Philadelphia, Pa.)—No. 23 Goop News “Short Fee gh i fa Boys,” will instruct you about entering 8 nD T. £. H. Minneapolis, Kan.)}~The coupons you sent m ethe’ book "0 to are for series "A you call for belongs series ““B” and cannot be sent on series “A” - Fiease inform us what book in series ‘AP you A sent. S. BE. H. (Warnerville, Mass.)—A round | - clinker-built boat, about 15 feet long, ough the purpose. a G. B. (Trumansburg, Pa.)—The names and ager i of the successful guessers in the base-ball contest be published. “Grit” (Washington, D. C.)—Nickel plai facing of metal with nickel by means of tion or the electro-bath. - preparer tn a and expect 4 a hea" V. A. W. (Hoboken, N. J.)—We have stories by the authors you inquire abou publish them very soon. o pt Reader (Peckskill, N. Y¥.)—In Goon News Nig We 23 “Short Talks with the Boys,” you W Point and Annapolis fully described. y E the sary Elmerite, Elmer, N. J.)—1. Deers inhabitht a! dack region. The climate is dry and bracing / publish only stories by popular authors. ns 1. J. C. Paducah, Ky.)—Series “A” cou good for books on series “B”. We will een sat plete list of Goop News Liprary in a few i 0} M. L. (Corsicana, Tex )—The populaf™ nh, United States, taken in 1890, was oo 160, UA G The official returns of 1890 will be pu NEws as soon as the census is finis nti there is & W. G. F. (Orange, N. J.—We think ing ele future in store for a boy who is study NEWS. Read what M. Quad says in No. 17 GOOD ; . t gi A. D. F. (Minneapolis, Minn.)—We CoMtt] oot the base-ball information until the OO yourws = made out. Write us again in a few weeks. is very distinct and stamps you as beil& ; ct Jack (New York).—For a boy who has BY ior i a” ( liking for a trade” it would_be impose oton? ‘ pick out one for him. How about a pre *, Minstrel (San Antonio, Tex.)—H flame until it is black, and then @ black paste made that is very good H. L. K. (Seneca Falls, N. Y.)—Yes, Wes §. & S. Manual Library No. 7. a book oe yo Door Sports,” that has in it all the ga™ Z know about. , : 0 ti JM. T. (St. Gregoire P, Q.)—There Titers 8 4G on the money and coin you mention. ive you cent coin book published that might 8 sired information. now ot kn! “Drugs” (Woodstown, N, J.)—1. We sentry a0 08, ete ye tae, Vol. ; ee, oo aM eats »ply, any place in Philadelphia, where taught. 2. Puppets can be bonght for, BS from twenty-five cents up. 3. No. wp 2 ou E. C. F. (Attica, N. Y.)—1. The auther date gi may write for Goop News at some fu 3. We do not think the contest you § popular, as it would only benefit a few: _ C. A. 8. (Ogden, Utah)—1. Read “Mall B in No. 2, 2. Puzzle column is opeD %, 3. The second “Book Premium menced in No. 19, 4. Your writing ing your age. ot could Skip (AYbuquerque, N. Mex.)—1., You Ca nan selected a better profession. 2, The short: we you mention is about as good a8 @D3) he hink the type-writer you refer 0 writing rapidly as fhe Remington. 4. Your ; R. B. B. (St. Louis, Mo)—l. Aig dimensions you give would cost @ munniDs 2. You can get a motor capable of, fi dD Nui machine for five dollars, 3. You WE 1 willtt, g a photographic supply store where ye Electr information dentred. 4. Write to . Co., 18 Cortlandt St., N. Y. W. D. (Toledo, O.)—1. To be first proceed to study spelling, and stenography. After studies thoroughly, apply r newspaper. The Insiter the pape tunity you will have to learn. y ; large newspapers until you are COUR, stot ost and interview on any subject. Ze fell OB written from facts. 3. July 14, 1874 ia atte Jay Gee Wheeling, W. Va.)—l. TR gshas tite lay the Atlantic telegraph cable 5s of meet was defective insulation caused by But this delrdeD ae into the guttapercha coating. BU at Dis : medied at the next venture. JUD 8 se this new cable sailed from t liced 4 The shore end at Valencia was SPoy04 cable, and the Great Eastern “Taly- miles had been laid on the 22d of tent, & completely laid at Heart’s_ CoD ley. and a message sent to Lord Stamnerics first plan to unite Europe an Regis ti was entered at the Government Brett eee: 1845, by Mr. J. Watkins rett. «tg in 1B Midday Baltimore, Md.)—The Pots der compass are read as follows, technically called “boxing the a am by east, north-north-east, north-€ east, north-east ay east, east-n0 ast, 800 east, east. by south, east-south-© th, £0 south-east, south-east by 4 3 * west got! south-east by east, south, south DY vat, Bat, Wi othy: west, south-west by south, sou gout, weit west, west-south-west, west rest ¥ pone, north, west-north-west, nor a rth? west, north-west by north. mata are re north by west. The cardinal po wre 8 mw! east, and west, added to which the heavens. 1a.)—"HOw Wiogins Jr. (Davenport. the. clot what the weather is going to be PY souds oo ots vious to much rain falling, & ely pel enit fy and increase very fast eSheh) ecco aiid When the clouds are formed 1%) 4 ed sp the middle and bright towards © wi vse bright, they are signs of @ fros iD thins and Mg rain. If clouds form high in ® d wind, he like locks of wool, they porten’, covers meth ti rain. When a general clouding’ fly v2 all be small black fragments of clouc® vanly WingiM ines are a sure sign of rain, which PF portend y eh ey Two currents of ‘ouds always y, in 14 reas! summer, thunder. When thes will 10! tinged with sea green, the ra! ! ; deep blue, it wt oe Militar he ‘ : 3d Boys wishing to join Co, B. cadets, address Frank W. at ie Medway, Boys wishing to Cadets, address, New York City. ath B eet Boys wishing to join Co, A» 19*5. Cadets, address Capt. ROYAL J Huntingdon Co., Ind. All boys five foot and over, Fant ing to join Co. A, 3d Regt Talat. apply 0A. J. BoorEH, 5 Alinton 5 7“ too Boys 5 feet or over, wishing fein ° Regt. Intt. oly ae, J. CONNELL soin CO. hs 1st dapt. JOSEPH. or: ty.