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Boing? Put Ican tell you what I am not | submit to this kind of a life any longer.”; “Perhaps that kind of talk will not help) suppose I am an ungrateful bully, as you

rt fi do,” replied Arty, with quite a} “All right, Artemas; if you want a job| your case any, you ungrateful little | say ; and I recommend you to write for a
» Wel ash in his eyes. as a scavenger, perhaps you can find one,” | bully. This is not the first time you have|comic paper, Uncle Nat. You can give
hen ps !, what are you going not to do, |} added Mr. Belshade, with a shrug of the | shown your ingratitude.’ them one and beat all the funny fellows

 

Nhj

\ Tp, face. | utter indifference to him what the boy did. | if things don’t change. . I am not given to jesting,” added the
pgey prot going to stand this thing any| “I begin to think you were not my| “They will change for the worse, if you uncle, severely.”

wi answered the boy, in a very de-| mother’s brother, for there is no more soul | don’t behave better. “Well, now, I think you are when you

 

 

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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1890, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C. ¥
Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post-Office, August 7, 1890.

  

  
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
      

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Vol, 1, 81 Rose Street. P.O. Box 2794. New York, August 7, 1890. finbadtincion Pring @ os tet Véad: No. 13.

 

By OLIVER OPTIC,

Author of **The Cave on the Island,” ‘““Where He Got His Money,” “The Soldier
Boy,” ‘Fighting Joe,” “Brave Old Salt,” “The Starry Flag,” “The Yacht
Club,” ‘‘The Great Western Series,” etc., ete,

 

CHAPTER I. “ What are you going to do about it, my
UNCLE AND NEPHEW, lad?” demanded Mr. Nathan Belshade, the

& gentleman addressed by the youngster,
WON’T stand it any longer, Uncle| with a look of cold contempt at the
Nat ! protested Arty Milquide, a pale | nephew, whom he evidently did not regard

4nd rather delicate lopicings boy of} with an overflow of affection.

fifteen. ; | “T can’t tell just yet what I am going

 

        

 

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net

i

i / 7

x
:
} ita Dy a

 

ARTY AIMED A BLOW AT THE HEAD OF THE BURGLAR, AND DELIVERED IT WITH ALL HIS MIGHT,

quired the uncle, with a big sneer | shoulder, as though it was a matter of “And I don’t believe it will be the last | that make jokes at ten cents a line.

    

Yr’ ne. “I’ve stood it long enough,|in you than there is in a side of sole| “Things can’t be much worse, and I am | call me an ungrateful bully. I suppose I
d rather be a citv scavenger than ‘ leather,” _ 4 Willing to run the risk of any change, I} am a bully ause I stand up for my

  
 

194

rights; but I don’t exactly see where the
ingratitude comes in. What under the
skin of a rhinoceros have I to be grateful
for? I might be submissive, like a pig
with aring in his nose; but Idon’t see
how I could be anything else; and I won’t
be that any longer.”

“I think you will have to be submissive
if you>ean’t be grateful,” retorted Mr.
Belshade. :

“Perhaps, maybe; but I don’t see it.
You are an affectionate; indulgent, kind-
hearted guardian, and I should like to ask
one favor of you, if it’s any use for me to
do so,” continued Arty.

“You make fun of it, and try to lam-
poon me; but I try to be in earnest what
you say I am in _jest—an affectionate, in-
dulgent, and kind-hearted guardian. What
favor do you ask.”

“TI want you to tell me what I have to
be grateful to you for; that’s all, and it
won’t break your back to give me the par-
ticulars,” said Arty, and whether right or
wrong, he felt that he was doing some-
thing toward flanking the enemy.

“TJ am taking good care of you, and
managing your fortune with prudence,” re-
plied the uncle.

“As to the fortune, I don’t know any-
thing at all, for you never say a word to
me about it; but Ican’t take it in just

et how you are taking good care of me.
f I were a mule or a hog I might be able
to see it,” chuckled Arty, for he was in
a rather jovial mood in spite of his war-
like attitude.

“Don’t you get enough to eat?”

“Don’t the average mule or hog get
enough to eat?”

é ae you have a good room and a good
ed?”

“Good enough; but I lodge nearer heaven
than you will ever get, Uncle Nat, unless
you mend your ways,” laughed Arty.

“aven’t you got through the grammar
school?”

“T finished going to it; but Inever went
more than half the time because I had to
work in the house or the lofts.”

“Your mother and I both came from
Vermont, and she was an old-fashioned
woman. She did not wish tohave you
spoiled by too much luxury.”

“T don’t believe I have got spoiled yet
in any such way as that. I have to wait
on the cook at the house, and be the ser-
vant of the porter at the store. My
mother left me fifty thousand dollars, and
made you my guardian and trustee; and
if she don’t turn in her coffin at the way
you are bringing me up, it is only because
she can’t turn.’

“T am bringin ou up as she would
wish me to,” Site Mr. Belshade, and his
face was beginning to get red over the ar-
raignment of his nephew, who had never
spoken so loud before.

“My mother was what you claim to be,
but know you are not, for she was really
an affectionate, indulgent, and_ kind-
hearted mother; and if she could have
known how’ you would treat me, she
would have disowned you, and made your

orter my guardian rather than you, for

e is an honest man,” said Arty, more
seriously than before.

“Do you mean that Iam not an honest
man?” demanded the guardian.

“That’s what I mean, for it is not hon-
est to charge ten dollars a week for my
board, and make me work like a team
horse for my living.”

“Tam your guardian, boy,” added the
uncle, angrily.

7a. wees you are, but I don’t believe
you will be much longer, for I am goin
to see Squire Bonman about it,” Mepliod
Arty, coolly, again.

This reply produced an impression, for
the lawyer mentioned was not a friend of
his at the present time, and there was a
remedy for the ward in the courts. He
seated himself in an arm-chair in the
counting-room, and was silent for a few
minutes. Then he took from his pocket a
key and opened the door of the safe, which
was set into the wall. He took from it a
huge package, and seated himself again,

CHAPTER II.
ARTY’S FORTUNE.

ONTRAN MILQUIDE was a French
Canadian, as any one may judge
SA from his name. He had come into
Vermont, and became a contractor.
He had married Ruth Belshade, and
made a small fortune. But there was
eee in his family, and he died at
fifty. is wife moved to Boston because
her only brother lived there. Her husband
had left all his estate to her in trust for
his only son. Mrs. Milquide had lost her
life by a railroad accident two. years be-
fore her son confronted her brother in the
counting-room. She did not live with
Nathan Belshade, and she knew less of
him that other people. She made a will,
as a matter of form, and gave all she had
to her son, and indicated that her brother
should be his trustee and guardian, all of
which was accomplished with the aid of
wens Bonman, as the deceased always
called him.
Nathan believed that his nephew in-

 

 

GOOD

herited the consumptive constitution of
his father, and that the fifty thousand
dollars would come to him in a few years,
more or less. He wished it might be less,
for his business affairs were bothering
him to a serious degree. Perhaps the vig-
orous exercise to which the boy was abe
jected improved his physical condition,
for his health had improved somewhat,
though he was still delicate. Of course,
Nathan never said that he was not anxi-
ous to prolong the life of his ward; on the
contrary, he talked just the other way,
though his talk and his actions were not
consistent. He sent him into the cellar of
both house and warehouse to work for a

whole day at a time, and failed to dress |

him as
than all
strength.

Mr. Belshade sat in his arm-chair with
the package he had taken from his safe in
his hands. and he was untying the string.
Then he began to talk about the finances
of his ward, and he was not too honest to
commend his own management of the
estate. The money, of which the fortune
solely consisted, had been in P. Q. R.
Railroad stock. It had passed sundry
dividends, he said, and he had become
alarmed about it. When it dropped to
par, he sold the stock for cash, and had
closed the transaction at two that day,
and collected the check at the last moment.

“You see, Artemas, that I have been
worrying and fretting about your affairs,
and they have cost me many a night’s
sleep. For all I have suffered on your ac-
count, you charge me with treating you
like a hog or a mule,” said he, holding up
the package, and looking his nephew in
the face, with the ahahet air of a martyr
on his own. “Now, for my labor, anxiety,
and self-renunciation, you are going to
see Mr. Bonman, knowing that he is an
enemy of mine, to induce him to make
trouble on your account. I try to be a
Christian, but I confess I am sorely temp-
ted of the devil to let you alone, and let
your property take care of itself.”

Nathan finished his speech, covered his
face with one of his hands, and possibly
he tried to purge a tear from his eyes; the
spirit was willing, but the flesh and the
tears were not.

Arty was willing his uncle should weep
if he wished to do so, and he said noth-
ing, but he went to a shelf and took down
a dictionary. He turned the leaves for
some time before he spoke.

“Self-renunciation is good, Uncle Nat;
it means giving up one’s own wishes; and
I suppose that is what you have done
when you charged ten dollars a week for
my board, and made me earn it at the
same time. I suppose it is self-renuncia-
tion to give me an attic room, and make
me take my meals with the servants.
That is trying to be a Christian; but I
hope you won’t try any more.”

“Artemas, you are insulting me!” said
the uncle, trying still to be meek and
suffering.

“It is the truth that is insulting, not a
poor boy worth fifty thousand dollars like
me. It is self-renunciation on your part
to make me workin the cellar all da
long when I have acough onme. Self-
renunciation is a good thing to have, I
dare say, but I am glad you have not got
any more of it.”

“T am trying to bring you up as your
mother wished, and——”

“That is a libel on ay mother, and if
you say that again I shall be tempted of
the devil to be saucy,” interposed Arty,
rising from his chair.

“T have tried to manage your property
prudently, and——”

“Make sure that you got enough out of
it, to pay you ten dollars a week for my
board,” interjected the nephew.

“But I have.to pay for your clothes.”

“T will take the contract to furnish them
for ten dollars a year.”

Mr. Belshade wondered where the boy
had learned so much about things in gen-
eral, for he had before fearfully underrated
him. The nephew seemed to be getting
the better of him at every stroke of his
tongue. It was useless to talk to him.
He opened the package, and asked the ob-
stinate youth of fifteen to count the money
he produced. It did not take him long
to count fifty bills of a thouand dollars
each, and he did it the first time trying.

“That is your fortune, Artemas, and
you can see that it is all right. You
have said that Iam not an honest man,
and though I am not accountable to you
yet, you had better see that it is all right,”
said Mr. Belshade, impressively.

“T haven’t found any fault with your
management of the fortune; all I want is
less work, or better work, a proper place
to sleep, and as good food as I pay for,”
replied Arty.

‘We will look that matter over to-mor-
row morning,” added the uncle, putting
the package back into the safe. “Now I
want you to move those sides of leather
in the upper loft, and then you may go to
the house.”

“To do some job in the cellar,” suggested
Arty.

“No; I will ask you to do nothing more
this evening,” replied Mr, Belshade, lock-

his tendency required. Worse
he worked him beyond his

 

 

NEWS.

ing the safe, and
After reflection, the boy
up to the loft.

leaving the office.
etided to go

 

CHAPTER III.

A BATTLE FOR HIS OWN.

ay was very hard work for a boy no
I stronger than Arty to move about

| two cords of sides of sole leather from
‘=> one side of ‘the loft to the other; and
he did not see what possible use there
could be in doing it. He wondered if it
was not done to make work for him. But
as Uncle Nat would consider his needs
the next morning, he concluded to do the
work; and this was what had started the
rebellion in the counting-room. He had
been at work very hard all day, and he
was very tired. He felt more like going to
bed than he did like tugging at the heavy
sides for a couple of hours longer.

When he had finished the work, he
could scarcely stand up, he was so worn
out.
the other, and he did not even feel like
walking to his uncle’s house, which was
more than a mile distant, and he was not
indulged with pocket-money enough to
pay a horse-car fare. In the rear of the
oft, which was the upper one in the
building, was an old sofa, covered with
carpet, what there was left of it, which
had been brought‘up from the counting-
room to get it out of the way. Arty sat
down upon it, and then he lay down, as
a better way to rest himself. Before he
knew that he was losing himself he drop-

ed asleep. He was a very tired boy, and

e slept like a log.

He had had no supper, and possibly it
was the grumbling of his empty stomach
which waked him before morning. He
straightened up on his couch. It was
pitch dark in the loft, and he could not
see a thing. It required some time, under
these unfavorable circumstances, for him
to determine where he was; but in due
time the memory of the hard job he had
done came to him, and he remembered
that he had taken to the sofa. It was
some time in the night, but what time he
could not ascertain in the absence of all
data on the subject.

After feeling about for a long time, he
found the stairs, and went down to the
second floor, where the greater number of
windows enabled him to get a dim light.
Just then he heard the clock on a distant
church strike twice.. It was two o'clock
in the morning. It was hardly advisable
to go home at that hour, for he could not

et in without making a general row.
There was a leather-covered lounge in the
counting-room, which had taken the place
of the sofa, and he decided to finish his
night’s sleep upon it. He descended the
stairs, and stood before the glass door of
the office.

He halted there, for a sound came from
the room which was not altogether regu-
lar at that hour of the night. He looked
through the glass and discovered the flash
of a dark lantern, as the man who made
the noise turned his body. The fellow
was working something like a bit-stock,
which was found to be a breast-drill in
the morning. He was boring into the
safe, and Arty had read the newspapers
enough to know what this meant. Jas
it possible that the workman knew his
whole fortune. was locked up in that
vault? How could he know it. Business
men did not ordinarily keep much money
in their safes, and regular cracksmen
would not waste their time and talents on
such a doubtful venture as boring into one
of them. Of course, Uncle Nat could not
have told this robber that the vault con-
tained fifty thousand dollars, for the uncle
was the next heir to the nephew. Arty
was a regular descendant of a Revolution-
ary Green-Mountain Boy on his mother’s
side, and therefore he had pluck. In fact,
he had so much of it that he did not doubt
for a moment what he ought to do, for
the blood had not degenerated. He found
an oak stick three feet long and an inch
in diameter, used to insert into the ring
of a scuttle to raise it. Armed with this
he went to the door again. He studied the
situaton for a moment. The workman
with the drill was back to him, and he
appeared to be wholly absorbed in his
work.

With a rush, Arty threw the door open,
and darted upon the bird of the night. It
was not prudent for a weak boy like him-
self to attempt to fight it out, even in a
battle for his own, with a full-grown sin-
ner, and he aimed a blow at the head of
the operator, and delivered it with all his
might. The burglar went over on_ his
face, and did not move again. Possibly
the bold youth had killed him, but he did
not waste any sentiment over this sugges-
tion. The lantern had been extinguished,
and darkness surrounded the conqueror
and the conquered. Arty lighted the gas
at one burner; but then it occurred to
him that the operator might have a con-
federate in the street, and he turned it
nearly off. .

He could not see the face of > the fallen
man, but he wanted to know something
more about him, and he devoted himself

 

He could hardly drag one foot after |

 

—

to the duty of fishing his pockets in seardll
of information. The first thing
was a key. He took it to the light, and
was confident that it was the key of the
safe. He tried it in the keyhole, and it
fitted like a glove. What inthe worl
was the fellow boring into the door i
when he had the key to the vault? Ary
had to give it up. At that moment there
was a rapping at the window.
“Who’s there?” demanded Arty.
“Police. What is going on in there?”
“Burglary,” replied Arty, as he opel
the window, and the officer came in. 3
The descendant of the Green-Mountall
Boy pointed to the man on the floor, ai
told his story. The policeman looked #
the fallen burglar. He was not deat
The officer told him to run home and call
his uncle, and send a policeman, if he me
one. When Arty got home, he could rous?
no one. He had sent an officer to We
store, and he pounded at the door till day
light, and then the cook let him in.
found his uncle and his aunt tied to the
bedsteads in their room, each with 4
gag in the mouth. f
The villain at the store came to DB

senses, and made a clean breast of it. He
had been employed by Mr. Belshade bot

to do the gagging and the boring; but
had taken the money home with him.
went to the State prison. Arty wen
Squire Bonman, who was made
guardian and trustee by the court. The
money was recovered, and Arty went 0
live with the lawyer, who was a distant
relative of his mother; and he lived ®
well as the rest of the family, went ™
school, then to the academy and to col-
lege, and became a lawyer himself.
a

RECKLESS ROLL;

OR, THE
WOLF IN THE FOLD:

By JAMES K, LENNOX.

Senpometendicennmese

He

 

{RECKLESS ROLL” was commenced in No, 6,
numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.

poeta emeemen

CHAPTER XVI.—(Continued.)

7+ LD BUGLE entered into a conver,
c sation with Maggie Milbank 4
Reckless Roll, but their talk W
“4” suddenly brought to a terminatify
when the old hs heard Bertha, W.

with her husband had withdrawn @ few

paces, say:
“Yes, Oscar, Iam the wife of
Thorne, if that is his true name.”
Oscar groaned aloud, then said: ;
“Bertha, why did you deceive me? matty
me when you were the wife of another : I
“TI did not know I was his wife wher
married you,” she replied, sobbing bitteny:
“Did not know it?” Oscar repe@
half-contemptuously.

Abel

“No, Oscar; when I married you 180P —

posed I was the widow of Mark Kling
mut I find that Abel Thorne and
Kline are one and the same persons
have been deceived, Oscar.” L
“See here, friends,” said Old Bugle, %
proaching the sorrowing pair, “I wat
say a word or two ‘bout your case tha’ =
had hoped I’d never have to tell.” d
“Let us hear it, Bugle,” said DesmoB™
“Wal, I’ve been a wicked ole cuss, ’
my days, I'll fust admit, but I’m #7
now to do better. You have axed met
real name, Desmond, dut I alers ev™ at
oo question. I’m Jonas Finch. I bebo
orn in ole Kaintuck, and for seve of
years worked on a boat on the Ohio Ri of
whar I naterly got tuff as sin. In plet
meantime I got acquainted with a gars
who war on.our boat half his time. pel
name was Mark Kline, the identical ae
Thorne of your youthful days, Desmo?
“Indeed?” exclaimed Desmond. ent
“Yas sir’ee. Wal, one day Kline W
to a feller on the boat, and said: awe
“ *Grizzly’—that war the feller’s ™
—‘don’t you want to make a fortune
“ ‘In course I does,’ returned GriaZl¥: 4
“ ‘Wal, listen,’ says Kline. ‘I’ve f0 t"
out a young gal up in Tennessee the de
heiress to a great fortune, and I’ve ™% to

her think she loves me, and am om oub
marry her. She’s an orphan—only © gif

fifteen or sixteen, handsome as y®

them. But all I want’s her fortune. inef
name’s Bertha Thompson. Her fa nd
went to California a few years ag» ried
got slathers of gold; but the old ma® old
on his way home, and they put the Sing
where Bertha can get it. Bertha’s Uv
with her uncle, who is opposed ng
union; but she agrees, like the jonas
foolish a she is, to marry me eam
tinely, and let her uncle groan it oU% yo

“Well, what’s this to me?’

Grizzly.
“ “I want you to act as minister,
ri give you a thousand dollars.’ and 8

I’ll ‘do it,’ yelped Grizzly; apd
week arter Kline stole the gal aw, robs
took her over to a little country ©&
where they went through with the

4 we

he found —

 

 

   

for

   

of a ceremony, and Bertha thought ¥— — &

      

  
    
    
   
 
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
  
  
    
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
    
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
    
   
   
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
    
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   

 

—— — — Pe ey a Ve. ee oe

a FD ke —_/

daettwoaeswro
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
    
   
   
   
 
  
   
  
   

   

aa
eo
——

 

 

 

 

 

 

GooD

NEWS.

 

all in good faith. On their way home
from the church, Bertha told her sup-
osed husband all about her father’s
uried gold on the Platte, where he’d
been forced to leave it by outlaws. She
told him so near where it had been con-
cealed, accordin’ to her father’s letter,
which had been sent to her by Reckless
Roll, that the villain concluded he could
find it, and resolved to do it; and the
devil grew bigger than ever in his heart,
and he coaxed Bertha to keep their mar-
riage a secret until he returned from St.
Louis. So, jist as soon as he got Bertha
back to her uncle’s house, he bid her
mee by and put out for the West. At St.
ouis the devil again grew in his heart,
and he had the report circulated by a
friend, one Homil Deusen, that a man
found drowned at the wharf was Mark

Kline. The story was confirmed by a let-
ter to Bertha. Ain’t that all so, Mrs. Des-
mond?”

“Alas, it is too true, Bugle; though, as
Heaven is my judge, I always supposed
Mark Kline my lawful husband,” replied
Bertha.

“No, no; you’re the wife of Oscar Des-
Mond. You see, Mark Kline came right
out into these diggin’s and went to huntin’
fur the buried gold, and he has opent
hearly two years in the business without
success; but in the meantime he got to be
Rubal Rhinehardt, robber-chief. I have
kept an eye on the villain ever since that

ennessee marriage, for it war I, friends,
that acted as minister; but I hope you’ll
forgive me, Bertha, fur I’ve repented of
the act a hundred times, ‘and am tryin’ to
lead a better life.”

“I forgive you, Bugle, as I wish to be
forgiven by Heaven,” replied Bertha.

or’, little one, if I’d no more sins to
be forgiven than you, I’d not have so
Many gray hairs now. But I’m tryin’ to
do better now. You see, I knew that Abel
Thorne was out here huntin’ for that gold,
and as soon as I found you war out here,
oo—you and Maggie—Il knew what war
up, although I let on to Reckless Roll
there that the hull thing war a mystery
tome. You see, Thorne told me the hull
story, and then tried to kill me because I
knowed it, and that’s why I’ve soured on
him. I knowed that just as soon as he
found out that you were in this country
lookin’ for the gold, he’d try to git rid of
you, and I kept a close watch on him and
Over the Lone Oaks; and Reckless Roll’s
ittin’ that map t’other night on Otter
ake is what precipitated affairs, and so
he arranged for Oscar’s death, and the
Women’s capture, and Reckless Roll’s
Scalp. His call t’other night at the Lone
Oaks was to spy out all he could, and I
thought I’d warn you that the wolf was
in your fold——”
, Then it was you that shot the arrow
into the cabin that night?” said Desmond.
“Yes, it war I, Jonas Finch, alias Ole

ugle. ”
“Would to Heaven I had heeded your
Warning.”

“Tt mout a saved some trouble, but all’s
Well that ends well, they say.”

“Yes,” replied Reckless Roll, “and now
that we are all safe again, we had better
be leaving this a for no telling how
80on dangers will again be upon us.’

“Shall we return to the
asked Bertha.

“No, dearest,” replied her husband, “we
Will not find a place of refuge this side of

lattsmouth, and thither we must go.”

The journey was at once commenced,
and after two days’ tedious traveling the
Settlement was reached in safety.

one Oaks?”

 

CHAPTER XVII.
THE BURIED GOLD.

WEEK has passed since the events
of the preceding chapter. It is
\\ midday. The sun shines from a
cloudless sky. Over a little grove
&few miles west of the Lone Oaks, and
Upon the Platte River, dark objects are
Overing. They are buzzards, and they
are attracted there by something that
Promises them a feast. But what is it? a
Wounded deer, or buffalo? Whatever it
18, there must be life about it, for they
Settle down and down as if to attack their
Prey, then start up into the sky again.
n the center of the grove are a number
Of men. Reckless Roll, Oscar Desmond,
Old Bugle, and three of the Plattsmouth
Settlers are there, and in their midst are
1 Thorne and Homil Deusen.
Ropes are around the necks of the latter,
4nd they are about to pay the penalty of
elr crime.
p Scar Desmond, after his return to
lattsmouth, had formed a company con-
Sisting of the Boy Ranger, Old Bugle, and
ree settlers to go up the Platte in search
of the buried gold.
ith the assistance of the map and

Compass secured by the Boy Ranger, they :
succeeded in finding the treasure. |

ad
The outlaws were right in regard to the
Word which was missing from the lower
Corner of the map. The omission sup-
Plied the words read thus: "Start at a,
Tun due east eighty paces, thence south-
West twenty rods, thence due east again

sixty paces to 6 thence from 6 to a, then
| dig where the lines cross.”

| The grove in which the parties named
| were now assembled proved to be a, the
| starting point.

They had just secured the treasure
|from its grass-grown covert and retired
| to the grove where they had left their ani-
| nals, when they descried two horsemen
|approaching. They proved to be Abel
| Thorne, alias Mark Kline, alias Rubal
| Rhinehardt, and his confederate, Homil

Deusen.
' One of them carried a spade, and our
| friends at once knew that they were com-
| ing to search for the gold.
| They were waylaid and captured, and
| were now to be executed by the stern hand
| of border justice. Their crimes were too
| manifest to require atrial. But_we will
| drop the curtain over the scene. It is bet-
ter imagined than described.

An hour later our friends were moving
| down the river toward Plattsmouth, and
| the buzzards that had been circling in the
‘air sweep away, for they had found no

rey in the grove; but there were two
| fresh-dug graves under the tree where the
| outlaws had died.
| With the death of their leader, the band

of outlaws near the Pawnee village disap-
| peared and were never more heard of, but
| Maggie often thought of her once hostess,
| Pandora Grim.
| Bertha and Maggie invested their
' fathers’ gold in a fine farm in a prosper-
| ous section of the great. West.
{| Of course, when Roland Stanley, our
| brave Boy Ranger, and his peerless little
| Maggie grew to manhood and woman-
| hood, they were married, and they have

never grown tired of telling their children
|of their adventures on the plains of Ne-
| braska; while Bertha and Oscar often
; speak to their children of the night when
the “Wolf entered their Fold” at the Lone
Oaks.

Old Bugle found a home with Reckless
| Roll and Maggie. He was a thoroughly
| reformed man and died a Christian.

[THE END. ]
rr

A Knight of the (Black) Bath.

 

!
|

——e

By W. H. MACY.

-—- + ——

 

oor OST refreshing to us sea-tossed

; mariners was the sight of the fer-
Sew tile and beautiful isle of San Cris-
toval, one of the numerous group
that stud the Archipelago of Solomon.
Rich in tropical luxuriance, -a stroll on
shore, under the shade of its lofty cocoa-
palms, and through perfect jungles, teem-
ing with the sweets of a vegetation so
| aromatic, so gorgeous to our unaccustomed
| eyes, was like an entry into fairy-land.
And yet more wonderful, if possible, to
me, were the eccentric specimens of human-
| ity who dwell in this sea-girt paradise. I
| had already become somewhat familiar vith
the more ordinary and better-known type
| of the Polynesian. I had spent a fortnight
| among the Tahitian beauties, the daughters
| of those whose seductions had overmatched
| the loyalty and integrity of Fletcher Chris-
tian and his associates; had learned to talk
Kanaka-English with the Americanized
Hawaiian, and had paid a flying visit to the
| fierce, untamable New Zealander. But at
San Cristoval I made my first acquaintance
with a race who may well be called the
Ethiops of the Pacific.
Repulsive enough were they to the sight,
with their ‘‘thrummed mat” heads, their
| lips unnaturally red, and their teeth colored,
/or rather discolored, to the same hue as
‘their skins. Their hair had the true woolly
' kink of the African, and was colored a dull
| red by the use of some calcareous dressing.
Yet we found these people, so far as our in-
tercourse with them extended, inoffensive
_and well-disposed. They had music in their
; souls, too, and appeared to enjoy life with
true negro jollity and abandon.
| I was surprised at the strong desire
evinced by these people to have white men
settle among them. On each occasion that
| I went on shore, I was beset with the most
'munificent offers, and the most flattering
| promises were made me, toinduce me to de-
| sert the ship and take up my abode with
‘them. I began, soon, to be really afraid
that I might be forcibly abducted. Nor was
| Lalone in this particular, for various others
: of my shipmates complained of having been
persecuted in similar style,
| Fortunately, we had a very steady ship’s
;} company, and all were well satisfied with
the ship and the treatment. No vacan-
cies having occurred among us since we
had been cruising in the Pacific, our morale
had not been corrupted by any admixture of
the adventurers who infest most of the is-
‘lands and ports on that side of the world,

 
   
 

|
|
;

| JESV¥e)

 

 

and who are ready to make a change at any °

time in seasch of a runaway’s paradise,

 

where life may be a ceaseless round of lazy
licentiousness.

Added to this, was the inborn prejudice,
natural to all Americans, and more powerful
then than to-day, against amalgamating with
a people like those I havedescribed. ‘“There
might be some sense,” said Young America,
‘in going ashore to live among Kanakas,
but with these niggers—bah !” Their bril-
liant offers and blandishments availed
nothing to lure us from our allegiance to the
good ship Mount Hope.

I was one day examining, with much
curiosity, one of their little temples for
idol-worship, which stood in a picturesque
and commanding situation, on a rise of
ground, a short distance back from the vil-
lage near which we had anchored. These
temples, though they evince much care and
taste, so far, at least, as relates to their out-
ward appearance and arrangements, are not
built on the same grand scale as the morais
of the Marquesans, or those formerly in use
among the Sandwich Islanders, as described
by Cook and others. They are neatly put
together, and a space paved round about
them; but they have nothing massive or
imposing in their character, to strike the
mind even of the unbeliever in heathen
mythology.

I was not suffered to make my investiga-
tions alone. A woman black as ebony, who
reminded me of the pictures so impressive
to my boyhood, in Mungo Park’s African
Travels, hovered near me like a shadow,
accompanied by her little daughter, who
might have sat for the original of Mrs,
Stowe’s Topsy. I inspected the two rude
statues, which were erected on pedestals, one
each side of the closed portal, and was pass-
ing on to view the other sides of the struc-
ture, when the woman called my attention
to what [had supposed to be mere random
scratches in the blocks on which the idols
stood, but which she evidently looked upon
as highly ornamental.

I was guilty of a sacrilegious laugh at her
enthusiasm, as she placed one hand on my
arm and extended the other toward the
hieroglyphics, while the woolly halo round
her head seemed to expand with admiration.
But the next moment, as my eye connected
several of the characters at one glance, they
became an inscription in English, rude, it
is true, but sufficiently legible, now that a
clew was found. In speechless astonishment,
I read:

‘James Stanbury—kept prisoner here—
stained black—not allowed to see or be seen
when any vessel comes. Don’t know how
long I have been here—should think two
years.”

I spelled all this out on one pedestal, and
passing tothe other—from Gog to Magog—
read on:

“T belong in London—ran away from
bark Tuscanam—not badly used, but see
no chance of ever getting away. If anybody
reads this, I hope they will try to find me—
am shut up in one of the joss-houses as soon
as @ sail comes in sight.”

The letters forming these inscriptions had
been cut or dug into the hard wood, seem-
ingly with a very dull knife. They must
have cost the workman much time and labor;
and doubtless the natives had watched the
progress of the supposed ornamental work
with the keenest interest.

The wood was by no means freshly cut. A
considerable time must have elapsed since it
was done, and it was a question whether the
man might or might not be still alive and on
the island. It will be seen that there was no
date to the record; the man had kept no cal-
endar, and had no means of computing time.
He had guessed at two years, from the se-
quence of wet and dry seasons,

Joss-houses? Of course he meant tem-
ples, idol-houses. He had been in China,
probably, and had picked up the name there.

e might be incarcerated at that moment in
one of those places; perhaps in the very
house before which I was standing ! I called
his name aloud; but a second thought satis-
fied me that his keepers would have exer-
cised a more jealous care of their prisoner,
had he indeed been in this building. The
woman, far from showing any uneasiness,
laughed with true negro delight at my cries,
which she supposed to be extorted by ad-
miration of the splendors of the temple and
ornamental work. He was not there, of
course; and to find where he was, I must be
careful not to arouse suspicion. j

I read and reread the strange story until I
had it all fixed in memory, and soon after
went on board and reported it to the cap-
tain. He took the first opportunity to visit
the place and read for himself, after which
he returned on board and sent for me into
the cabin.

“Have you mentioned this matter to your
shipmates?” he asked.

“No, sir. I waited for your opinion,
thinking it might not be well to attract too

 

 

much attention to the plac
every man would rush theré
scriptions.”

“Right,” said he. “I am
have been so discreet. The I
not in that house, I am satisfied
I know where he is—if he be sf

‘In the king’s palace?” I sugge

*“No,” answered the captain, “In
is not, for I have been with the ki’
every part of it. But there’s another chu:
or joss-house, or whatever you may choose
to call it, down the south side of the bay,
about a mile below our anchorage. It is
hoodwinked in by trees, as we look from
this direction; but I got a view of: it the
other day, as I was crossing the harbor
with the king, in his canoe—you know, the
day that we went pigeon-shooting. I saw
the great idols propped up against it, and
spoke about them to the king. I remem-
ber, now, that he seemed embarrassed, and
called my attention to something else;
though of course I shouldn’t have thought
of it again, but for this discovery that you
have made. That’s the place, you may
depend.”

‘‘Were there any guards nearit?” J asked.

“Yes, there were two men in sight, who
seemed to be lying off-and-on near it. But
say nothing aboutit for the present. It will
never do to attempt to rescue the man as
long as we are so completely at the mercy of
these natives. We shall be ready for sea to-
morrow, and then—I have a plan that I
think will work.”

The king being on board next morning,
the captain proposed to go gunning again,
taking the ship’s boat for the excursion.
His majesty was ready to accompany him,
as indeed he always was, but would never
allow any of us to go without himself or one
ofthe principal chiefs, as escort or guide,
That themen might not be taken from the
ship’s duty, the king furnished a crew of
blacks to man the paddles; but when all
was in readiness for pushing off, the captain
tipped me the wink to take my place at the
steering-oar.

He signified to the king that he thought
the woods on the south side of the bay would
afford the best sport; but his unwillingness
to go in- that direction was so manifest as
fully to confirm our suspicions, But the
captain and I understood each other, and
despite all remonstrances, I kept gradually
edging over to that side of the harbor, pass-
ing the temple in full view, and approached
the shore at a point some distance below it.
The king at length ceased to object, though
he still showed signs of uneasiness.

We landed and pushed in under the shade
of the lofty trees, where the tropical pigcons
were to be found, fluttering high aloft
among the lofty branches. The king and
captain alone carried guns, and we pursued
our sport for some time with fair success,
but seized every occasion to work in the di-
rection of the forbidden spot.

We at last approached the border of the
clearing, so that the building was in view,
the idols which were of colossal size, seem-
ing to grin hideously at us. But to my sur-
prise, the men, whom we had seen outside
in passing, had disappeared! No living be-
ing was to be seen in the neighborhood.

‘Where are the guards,” said I quietly, to
avoid the appearance of interest or surprise.

“Inside, of course,” replied Captain
Gwynn, in the same manner and tone.
“I’m sure we're right, now. The English-
man is here, and is gagged, as long as we
are within hearing.”

‘We can’t get in, of course ?”

“No, it would be useless to ask the king.
Taboo would be the answer to everything—
or whatever word these niggers use to ex-
press the same meaning. Attend now, to
what I am saying.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

I was carrying the captain’s powder-flask
and shot-pouch, as also a small box of which
I knew not the contents. It weighed sev-
eral pounds, and was an awkward burden
to carry about; but as I had been ordered to
bring it along, [asked no questions.

He kept the king’s attention employed as
we approached the temple, so as to disarm
suspicion, meanwhile giving me instruc-
tions, to which I was all attention.

“T am going to call out the man’s name.
He can’t answer me, of course, if he’s
gagged; but he'll know that we are here.
Jim Stanbury!” he shouted, running, with
his gun raised, toward a tree near at hand,
and then back again, terribly vexed, ap-
parently, that his gun had missed fire.

The king laughed at him for frightening
the pigeon away by his foolish shouting, and
still more when the eaptain showed him
that the gun was not capped.

We were now standing close to the wall
of the building, and could hear a scuffling
sound and hard breathing inside.

‘‘He heard me, of course, and is struggling

    
  

   

GoOonD

 

NEW S.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
 
  
 

rs; but he’s gagged, as I
right—keep quiet!’ he
his voice; then lowering it
box you are carrying is full of
going to lead the king and his
the front side of the house;
chance to drop behind.”

¥moment I looked seaward, down
Baring, and saw the ship’s flying jib-
push into view, by the trees. The
aptain saw it before I could cry out, and
cut me short in the same quiet tone:

‘All right—she’ll anchor again below here.
Mr. Hart has his orders. Attend carefully,
now, to what I say.”

The king here caught sight of a pigeon,
and trotted silently off, his black crew fol-
lowing at a little distance, to see the effect
of his shot.

“Good !” said the captain. ‘‘Now’s your
time. Pass round the corner of the build-
ing, lift a paving-stone, and put down the
box—close to the corner post—fix a train
with the powder in the flask. Work as
quick as you can, and I'll amuse the king
and his gang.”

The sharp report of the royal fowling-
piece was followed by a cry of delight from
the negroes, indicating his success. During
the powwow over the fallen bird, I was
making good use of my time to carry out
my instructions. I heard the captain’s
voice, speaking so as to be heard inside:

‘Keep toward the back end of the house,
Don’t go near the front door.”

And the direction of the smothered sounds
satisfied us that we were understood by the
prisoner. There was no fear that his jailers
would be any the wiser; for of all the tribes
in the Pacific, these Oceanic negroes possess
the least capacity for acquiring a foreign
language. ‘There was not even the smatter-
ing of English here that is usually to be
found wherever half a dozen ships may have
touched at long intervals.

The king and his party returned with
their prize; but while reloading his gun, his
majesty for the first time appeared to have
his curiosity excited about the ship’s move-
ments. The captain, reassuring him, led
the way to the water side, followed by the
whole party, thus leaving my operations un-
observed. I carried out his directions in
full, without further interruption, ‘and
joined him on the beach. The ship had
dropped a single anchor in a berth con-
venient to us, but still lay with her foretop-
sail loosed; and a boat fully manned was
pulling toward the place where we had
landed in the other.

“All ready, boy ?” the captain asked, with-
out looking at me.

“All right, sir. The little stick upright in
the sand—that’s the end of the train.”

The king made signs to inquire where the
box was which he had seen me carrying. I
pretended to have suddenly missed it, and
started back to look forit. The captain fol-
lowed at my heels, pretending great indig-
nation at my carelessness.

The royal party stood still and laughed at
this mock chase, redoubling their merriment
as Captain Gwynn now and then kicked at
me from behind, while I counterfeited an
agony of fright, and deprecated his anger
by the most expressive pantomime.

“They'll laugh out o’ the other side of
their mouths in a minute, boy,” said he,
drawing a card of matches from his pocket.
‘Run toward the stick—oh, yes, I see it.
Now double on me, and run back out of the
way.”

Never was a group of unsophisticated
savages more thoroughly frightened than
were the king of San Cristoval and his four
paddle-men at the deafening explosion and
its, to them, miraculous effects. The whole
corner of the bamboo house was blown into
a complete wreck; the hideous deity who
had mounted guard for years on that side
leaped frantically upward through the smoke
and toppléd over, crashing to the ground.
They stayed to see no more. When we
rushed in at the gap, the captain and I, the
beach was deserted, and their negro yells
were receding in the distance among the
forest mazes.

There were five men inside the temple,
which was full of idols of various sizes;
while the fixtures and fittings were such as
indicated that these people, who appeared
so inoffensive and happy, believed, like
their Fejee neighbors, in human sacrifice,
But we had time only for a, single glance.
Four of the occupants, who had crouched in
a panic of fear at our entrance, fled through
the’ opening with the speed of antelopes.
The fifth lay bound and gagged upon the
floor. He was as black, or nearly so, as the
others.

To cut his bonds and help him-to his feet
was the work of an instant; and assisting
him between us, we all rushed down the
slope together to meet the approaching boat,
which had taken our empty one in tow,

 

But little danger was to be apprehended
from the natives, as it would take them some
time to recover from their panic. Every-
thing on board was in readiness for a start,
and we were Safe under sail while the king
and his retinue were investigating, with fear
and trembling, what they believed to be the
effect of a deity’s wrath.

Our new shipmate, Stanbury, naturally
became a center of interest and curiosity.
The black dye with which he had been
stained gradually wore out, so that in a few
months he regained his normal hue. The
king of San Cristoval, he said, had always
ordered it renewed as often as it faded. Yet
excepting this periodical baptism, and his
entire isolation from even the sight of beings
of his own race, he had been treated with
kindness, nay, even with distinction, by the
islanders.

According to the best estimate of which
Stanbury was capable, it was between three
and four years since he deserted from the
Tuscanam, seduced by just such flattering in-
ducements as had been held out to me and
others. As soon as his ship had gone to sea,
he was formally received as one of the
people, presented with the freedom of the
island, tabooed to insure his safety, and
stained black as the highest mark of honor
that could be conferred. This last was more
than Jim had bargained for; he was natural-
ized too much. But his resistance availed
nothing against the king’s fiat; he was at
once invested with the high degree as Knight
of the Black Bath, and thus had “greatness
thrust upon him.”

After these ceremonies, he was provided
with a wife, being allowed his choice among
the unmarried women of the tribe. He
choose her, he said, rather for her rank
than her personal charms, the whole sister-
hood being much on a par in this latter
respect. He thus allied himself closely to
the royal family, and became a kind of
prince-consort. This secured him some
rights and privileges above the common
herd; but these, he found, were not always
such as were desirable toa white man of
active habits. Besides, he had riveted the
chains of his bondage more closely by his
union with the kinswoman of the sovereign.
His person became so very sacred that it
must never again be looked upon by outside
barbarians. In short, our adventurer found
himself too much married, or, as he ex-
pressed it, “his wife was too rank alto-
gether.”

He was not allowed to perform any labor,
even to collect or prepare his own food. He
became the proprietor of some scores of
cocoa-palms and bread-trees, the dowry of
his noble spouse; and was expected to main-
tain his dignity bya perfect abstinence from
work, or, indeed, anything like exertion.

This compulsory idleness soon became the [|

hardest kind of work.

“T never thought I was over fond of hard
work,” said Jim, ‘‘and I always had an idea
that I'd be lazy enough as soon as I could
afford it. But I found that laziness reduced
to a system wasn’t what it was cracked up to
be.”

As soon as a sail appeared approaching
the island, Jim was at once ordered into con-
finement at one of the joss-houses, as he
called them. He might have been treated
with all the respect due to his high station,
and had his wife to share his captivity, if he
would have submitted quietly, and made no
effort to communicate with strangers. But
as he always resisted stoutly, and did his
best to raise an alarm, it was found neces-
sary to gag and bind him whenever any
white men were within hearing.

But no more violence was employed, he
said, than was necessary to insure his si-
lence; nor was it continued a moment after
the necessity was past. But a constant
guard was kept upon the temple until the
whites had taken their departure, when he
was again reinstated in all his honors and
dignities,

On one of these occasions, when he came
out of his prison, he found another white
man, who had been left behind by an Amer-
ican vessel. Jim was nearly beside himself
with joy at this prospect of companionship
with one of his own race.

But Murphy, the new-comer, was an im-
pulsive young Irishman, and after passing
through the ceremonies of initiation, selected
a wife who pleased his eye, from among the
plebeian class. Thus they were not brought
much into contact. Murphy was not only
permitted to labor, but it was expected of
him. He was also confined when a ship ar-
rived; though it appeared not so much from
fear that he himself might escape, as that he
might reveal the situation of the more im-
portant prisoner, Stanbury.

Murphy had not been many months on
shore, when, having climbed a tree for
cocoanuts, he fell nearly a hundred feet to
the ground, and broke his neck, His re-

 

mains were carried outside the reef and
sunk, and his widow was tabooed, so that
she could never marry again—except it were
to another white man.

Human sacrifices were offered, according to
Stanbury’s account, on very rare occasions.
He had known only one instance during his
sojourn, which was after the death of the
king’s favorite son, a boy of ten, who was
killed by a shark while bathing. The victim
was acastaway, who, with others, had drifted
there in a canoe from one of the other
islands of the group; and Jim gave no ac-
count of the ceremonies, as no one was ad-
mitted to the joss-house but the priests and
the king himself.

To make his situation known to any vis-
itors had long been the desire of Jim’s heart,
and at length hit upon the expedient of
carving the inscriptions upon the pedestals
of the idols. The king and his people were de-
lighted with the effect, but would not per-
mit him to cut them in the wood himself.
So much labor on the part ofa grandee of
the kingdom was a compromise not to be
thought of fora moment. So Jim drew the
form of the letters, and a native workman
dug them out; which fact went far to ac-
count for their rude appearance.

Jim, as a consequence of his long-indulged
idleness, had grown fat and unwieldy while
at the same time, he was quite unable to
endure the fatigue of a hard day’s work. He
improved, however, in these respects, under
the operation of a change in diet and habits
of life. It was very hard for him to be so
suddenly cut off from the use of the betel,
which every man, claiming to be a man, is
expected to chew, at the Solomon Islands;
and which to him had become a necessity.
in the same manner as rum and tobacco in
the more civilized circles. His dental organs,
which had acquired a jetty polish from its
use, did not regain their whiteness, even
after his skin had bleached out.

We left Stanbury in Australia, where he
joined a ship of his own country, bound to
London. I have never heard that he has
published a book, or delivered lectures, Nor
do [think he would make his mark at either;
though, as I first beheld him, he might have
proved an attractive ‘‘card” in connection
with a troupe of Ethiopian mistrels,

WITH THE BOYS

we

BY M. QUAD,

cornered canenatas

NUMBER SEVEN.

aN 2 E. R.,” of Fayetteville, North Caro-
=? (0 lina, writes :

e “Iam a poor boy, 18 years old. I
“live in a small town. Now, I
would like to do something to earn money.
I would like to be a soldier. Please tell me
if the regular army is a good place for a boy.
If so, how much would I get a month, where
would I enlist, and how long a time would I
have to enlist for?”

There are thousands of ‘‘poor boys in a
small town who would like to do something
to earn money,” but there are better ways
of earning it than enlisting in the army.
The term of enlistment is five years. At
the end of that time you might possibly
have $50 laid by, but the life of a soldier
would have spoiled you for any other busi-
ness.

The idea of learning a trade seems not to
have entered your mind. You are just the
right age to begin. Find out, if you can,
what you are handiest at, and then make a
push. If there is no opening in your small
town, pack your bundle and set out and find
an opening in some larger one. Without a
trade you are going to be knocked about the
world all your life, having neither steady em-
ployment nor decent pay.

As to going away from home to begin life,
there is a great deal of difference as to
whether you run away or go with your par-
ents’ consent. No true man or woman will
counsel a boy to run away, except he was
being starved and maltreated. In the case
of a boy, eighteen years old or over, who is
anxious to learn a trade, but has no opening
at home, sensible- parents will encourage
him to start out and look over other fields.

If the boy has been brought up right, he
can go among strangers and remain right.
It does not by any means follow that a
young man must go to the dogs because he
goes away from home. While the world

   

seems overcrowded, and it is a puzzle to)

 

 

philosophers how we all live, the plucky,
persevering boy need not hesitate to strike
out for himself. There are shops, and fact-
ories, and mills, and offices where he is
wanted and will be welcomed. When he
leaves home he must make up his mind to
be strictly honest, let what will come. To
tell the truth at all times and under all cir-
cumstances. To be industrious, no matter
who else is idle. To be trustworthy, even
in the smallest trifles. If a boy will do this
—and every boy can do it—he may put his
bundle of clothes under his arm and go out
among strangers without a fear as to his
future.

In the last ‘‘Talks” we also had a word to
say against young men enlisting in the
army. Lest some one should charge us
with treasonable sentiments, we desire to
make a few explanations. The majority of
the rank and file of the army are unambi-
tious, with little thought of the future, and
have a narrow circle of experience. They
are machines, bound to obey as_ others
direct. This has a tendency to crush out &
manly, independent spirit. There is very
little chance of promotion and increased
pay, therefore little incentive to ambition.
The fare, the routine, the surroundings—
the entire life of a soldier in time of peace
works against his manhood. When his
term of service expires, if he enlisted as @
young man, he is too old to begin a trade,
has no money to enter into business, and
must either re-enlist or become a drudge.

“W. C. F.,” of Monson, Massachusetts,
writes :

“My inclinations are in the direction of
electricity. I have been through an acad-
emy, and would like to go on through @
course in electrical engineering in a higher
school, but have not the money. What caD
I best do to learn more in that direction?

“If you could give a short discourse oD
the best openings I would be much obliged.”

If you are not financially able to take &
course in electrical engineering your best
plan would be to secure employment with
either a telephone or telegraph company iD
such capacity as would enable you to ac-
quire practical knowledge of electricity,
while at the same time you could continu®
your studies by yourself. There are a num-
ber of valuable works on the subject of elec-
tricity which you can study with profit, pro-
viding you have practical experience at the
same time. The fact that you accept aD
humble position need not retard your pro-
gress. Some of the latest and best improve-
ments on telephones are the invention 0
poorly paid employees.

“E. W.,” of Cambridge, Mass., writes ;

“T have taken great interest in your ‘Short
Talks with the Boys.’ Ihave spent a term
at the Mass. N. A. school, and am a fair
hand at drawing. Iam eighteen years old,
and would like to learn a good trade. like
both wood engraving and lithographing.
would like to have your advice which to
learn, and what pay a fair workman at each
would get, and how much pay I would get
to start with, and how long it would take to
learn engraving. I would hke to know what
chance there is for me to get jobs at engrav-
ing? You would greatly oblige me by aD-
swering a few of these questions.”

Lithographing, as was explained in a for-
mer article, is divided into three branches—
the artist, the engraver, and the pressman.-
If you are only a fair hand at drawing you
might never make a good artist. The litho-
graph engraver has only to follow copy, of
course, but it is a trade requiring a keen ey®
and a deft hand.

As to the wood-engraver, the man who |

can design, draw, and engrave, has a grea
advantage over the one who can simply 2:
grave. This latter work requires taste al
skill, ‘but is, after all, more or less machine
work. ‘The apprenticeship is for three years
at the end of which time the pay depends
upon the skill. Some engravers work
the inch, or piece, and others by the day
week, A common wood-engraver will aver:
age $15 per week anywhere in the Unite
States, and the pay runs from this figure 1?
$50. A lithograph engraver receives rather
better pay on the average.

“L. S.,” of Bastrop, Louisiana, writes
follows :

“You have lately been giving some most
excellent hints and sharp advice to youDs
men about choosing trades, conductiDs
business, and soon. Now please give som?
of the more ‘advanced pupils’ a few lessons
Tell us how to economize time; how
work all day bending over a desk and not
have a sore chest at mght. Tell us how
many hours’ sleep a worker must have '
preserve his health. Tell us how to study
hard and think long and deep, and not b&
come absent-minded and narrow. ‘Tell 1%
how to acquire a taste, a longing for work.
Tell us how to overcome the desire to *
and dream—in short, how not to be 1a)’

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GOOD NEWS.

 

Tell us how—as you seem to possess such a
ity yourself—to find time for every-
thing.”

The “advanced pupil” evidently has no
heart in the work he is engaged in—cer-
tainly no enthusiasm. The chances are
that he learned book-keeping to gratify the
wishes of his parents, and it is doubtful if
he continues in the business longer than he
can find some other work to make a living
at. Herein lies a danger which parents
cannot too carefully heed. The boy who is
forced to a trade or profession in which he
has no heart, because not fitted for it, will
be a half-hearted, slipshod workman all his
days. “L. §.,” speaks of “acquiring a taste
for work” as if the idea was ridiculous. It
is far from it. Give ten boys trades in
which they are interested, and at least eight
of them will go singing to their work and
come home whistling. Work is a pleasure
to them and not a dread. Put a boy who
would make a good machinist at book-keep-
ing or other profession and nine times out
of ten he will become a flat failure.

“John R.,” of Attica, New York, writes:
“Tam a boy of fifteen, and want to go West
and go into the cattle-raising business.
What are the chances for me?”

If you have a home in Attica or any. other
town, your policy is to remain there. To
begin with, a boy of fifteen doesn’t know
enough to take care of himself away from
home, and to end with, your cattle-raising
Scheme is the silliest nonsense. You may
have heard or read of some poor boy who
Went West without a dollar, and in the
Course of afew years became the owner of
10,000 cattle and a ranch, but there is no
danger of any such thing happening to you.
You would be likely to land among strangers
Who would have neither care nor sympathy
for you. If you ever succeeded in getting
Work on a cattle-ranch, your pay would be
Small, the work enough to kill an Indian,
and the fare disgusting. The cattle-raising
business requires thousands of dollars as a
Starter, and ranchmen are quite as apt to
Meet with loss as profit.

The best cure for your Western fever is to
go to work.

0

Base Ball Cranks, Ahoy!
S10

fe E propose giving away $100 in
Y\\/5 money to the one who guesses the
co) order in which the National Leaque
and Players’ League clubs will

finish the season of 1890.

There are eight clubs represented in each
League—namely : Players’ League—Boston,
Brooklyn, Buffalo, Chicago, Cleveland, New
York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh.

National League—Boston, Brooklyn, Chi-
Cago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, New York,
Philadelphia, Pittsburgh.

The following shows the order in which
the National League ended the season of 1889:

 

IN CASH PRIZES TO BE
GIVEN AWAY.

——_e——.

1. New York....... 5. Pittsburgh.......
TS ae 6. Cleveland........
3. Chicago.......... 7. Indianapolis .....
4. Philadelphia. .... | 8. Washington......

Write the names of the two Leagues in the
order in which you think they will finish in,
and send them to us, accompanied with the
Certificate which you will find printed on
the first page of this paper every week
Until the contest closes,

The prizes are intended for the readers of

Oop News only, and guesses sent unaccom-
Panied by the certificate cannot be recognized as
Competitors.

The prizes will be divided as follows :—
$35 for the first correct guess received of the
National League, and $35 for the first cor-
Tect guess reccived of the Players’ League; $15

the second correct guesses of each of the

eagues, making a total of $100. By this
atrangement you have four chances to win a
Prize. There is also nothing to prevent
ne person from winning the two capital
a You can guess as many times as you
ve certificates.

Some one has got to win, and why not you?

lease write your guesses on one side of
Paper only, Write the National League on
ne slip of paper and the Players’ League on
8nother ; also the date you mail it.

Remember the only condition is that the

' Certificate found on the first page must accom-

Pany every guess.
The game will be umpired by the “official
ides” of the Players’ League and National
ue.
1 Competition will close September 1st,
890. Guesses mailed after September Ist
not be counted,

   

 

CADET CAREY;
THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S LEGACY,

A ROMANCE OF A WEST POINT BOY.

—-.

By LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,
2d Lieut. U.S. Army.

enone

 

[* CADET CAREY” was commenced in No. 6. Back num-
bers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

ae

CHAPTER XXYV.
TWO LETTERS.

ne ONTHS went by at the academy,
and the corps, as a whole, had
had no reason to regret their action
> in favor of Kit Carey.

He had been always the same dignified,
eer yet cheerful comrade to one and
all.

Intimate with many, he yet seemed to
have formed no devoted friendship for any
one particular person among the cadets.

He stood thus well with his classmates,
and held the respect and regard of his
professors, while he had already attracted
the attention of the ladies, the families
of the officers, as a handsome, dashing,
gentlemanly fellow, the very man to make
a name for himself when the cadet uni-
form was exchanged for the blue of the
regular army.

 
  

  

sve
—

He had studied hard, and it was be-
lieved by many that he would stand near
the top of his class when examined.

The day came and the ordeal had to be
faced. Clarence Tarpley winning place as
Number Three of his class.

Then the predictions of many were veri-
fied regarding Kit Carey, for opposite his
name were the two words Number One.

The boy from Borderland had passed his
first year, and won the honor post of his
class.

It was a proud day for Kit, especially so
as he was also promoted to a corporal’s
stripes, while Tarpley began to ascend
the ladder of promotion again by also get-
ting the rank of a corporal in his company.

The graduating class bade farewell to
the academy and went off on their leave,
after which they were to be ordered to
duty as second lieutenants, some in the en-

ineer corps, others in the savalry, a few
in the light artillery, several in the heavy,
and still more to the infantry.

Kit saw them go, and thought of the
time when he, too, after four years more
of hard work, severe discipline and strug-
gles, would bid farewell forever to old

Vest Point, and come out a full-fledged
soldier, once more to go to the frontier
where good men and true were constantly
needed.

Not once had he written to Colonel
Crandall, since his successful examina-
tion had been passed upon entering, but

 

now he sat down and wrote his good

| friend a long letter, in which he said:

“TI feared to write you, sir, until the

 

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‘‘HE’S DEAD GONE ON TARPLEY’S SISTER, CAREY, AND THAT IS WHAT'S THE
MATTER WITH CAPTAIN WEIZER.”

Tarpley had never oer to him since
the day of his punishment, except offici-
ally, and Kit seemed never to miss his
friendship, and to as wholly ignore his
existence.

The ex-officer, however, yet held a cer-
tain influence with a few of his comrades
among his old clique, to still have them
cling to him in his downfall, and these
espoused his side, and also treated Kit
with marked coldness, but not so as to
offer insult, as they had not forgotten the
lesson he had given them.

Captain Weizer, too, seemed to still
keep up his ill-will toward the cadet from
Borderland, but Beckwith explained this
one day, by saying:

“He’s dead gone on Tarpley’s sister,
Carey, and that is what’s the matter with
Weizer.”

“Yes, I see,” answered Kit.

“And the Tarpleys are awful rich,
you know, Clarence and Nannie, his sis-
ter, are the only heirs, while Weizer is as

oor, having only his pay, so you can un-

erstand why he sides with Tarpley, as
he wishes to stand solid with him for his
sister’s sake.”

Kit laughed at Beckwith’s explanation,
and answered:

“Oh, I don’t mind it any more than I
wisees to have the regard of every officer

ere.”

“Well, you've got it, except in Weizer’s
case, and I happen to believe that you
will stand number one at the examina-
tions, and if you head the class your first
year you are likely to do so in the three
that follow, mark my words on that.”

So the days passed at the Point until
the yearly exercises came round and all
was flurry and hope among the cadets.

Clarence Tarpley had not had a mark

nor a complaint against him,

test had been made by one year’s effort in
making a soldier of me.

“That rubicon has been passed, and my
second year looms up with all its perils to
a young cadet, but having mastered my
severest ordeal, as I. believe, I will not
shrink from lesser hardships and dangers.

“Had I not passed with honor, my dear
benefactor, I believe I would have been
tempted to have returned to the border,
and sought a place as scout, feeling sure
that it was all that I was good for; but
with my name at the head of my class I
am encouraged to go on and keep it there,
determined to strike my colors to no com-
petitor.

“There was one time in my early career
as a cadet, when clouds very nearly ob-
scured the horizon of hope, but they
drifted away under the light of true
friendship felt for me, and now I recall
those days only as an unpleasant dream.

“May I ask to know something, sir, of
the frontier, and those you command, for
I learn that there have been some bitter
struggles with the Indians, and I have
seen that the road agents are also giving
much trouble along the trails.

“Poor Lieutenant Otey I see has gone
to death leading a charge upon the In-
dians, and I was glad to see that Captain
Duluth had again distinguished himself,
while some of the old scouts, Wild Bill,
Jack Crawford, and others had won de-
served mention.

“T believe that I take a deeper interest by
far in what goes on on the frontier than
others East, but then it is natural, having

assed most of my life as a wild border

Oy.

“May I, in conclusion, sir, an my
remembrances to your sister, Miss Cran-

 

dall, and Miss Osmond, both of whom

since he had been reduced to the ranks; | were so kind to me, and also to any one

else you may think would care to hear of

one whom you honored ij
protege.
“With high regard, sir,
“Your ioe
“ CT

The annual encampment o
who remained at the acaden
the young soldiers were glad
to the freedom of a camp in
though not one whit of disciplil
laxed, drills were as regular,
duties negiected because no longer
the shadows of the academy walls.

It was while in camp that Kit receivea
een to his letter to Colonel Cran-
dall.

He tore it open with delight, and yet
with a certain feeling of awe, for it was
the first letter he had ever received.

The circumstance that no letter had
ever come for Kit Carey had been re-
marked, and Christmas, when every other
cadet was receiving souvenirs from home,
nothing came for the boy who had no
kindred, no friends to write him.

Going off by himself, Kit read his first
letter, and brave boy that he was tears
came into his eyes more than once during
its perusal.

“Your letter,” wrote Colonel Crandall,
“was a delightful surprise to us, for we
were glad to hear from you personally.

“My ward, Miss Osmond, read _ it aloud
the night of its reception, and I sent for
Captain Duluth to also hear what you had
to say.

“We had expected a letter from you
after Christmas, when Miss Osmond sent
you a box from here in which several of
us had ‘chipped in’ a little as a gift for
you, but as no acknowledgment came, and

ou do not refer to its reception in your
etter, we are convinced that it miscarried
in some way; but you see that you were
not forgotten.

“We have watched your career with in-
terest, and the clouds you spoke of we
know of, for Captain Satterlee is a regu-
lar correspondent of Captain Duluth, and
he appreciated your reason in not present-
ing the latter’s letter to him, knowing
that you did not wish to bias him in your
favor.

“We who were once cadets ourselves,
appreciate your position in that trying
ordeal.

“As to your friends here, poor Otey lies
buried up in the Black Hills, and Sergeant
Clancy was also killed, while a number
of Captain Duluth’s own company have
gone to their last bivouac.

“Captain Nevil is still here, and has a
standing bet with Captain Duluth and
Miss Osmond that you will never go
through West Point.

“He has twice been ordered to other
posts, but gets re-ordered back to us in
some way.

“Your scout friends, Wild Bill and Jack
Crawford, are still winning fame, and all
goes on as when you were here, except
that there is now a patched up peace with
the Sioux, and the road agents are giving
us the most trouble.

“IT shall always be glad to hear from
you, and if I hold a command when you
graduate as a lieutenant, I shall make a
special application to have you sent to
m

e.

“With regards from my sister, Miss Os-
mond, Surgeon Powell, and others, I re-
main

“Sincerely your friend,
“CLYDE CRANDALL.”

And such was the letter Kit received in
answer to his to Colonel Crandall, and
much joy it gave him, for he felt that
after all he was not friendless.

 

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE STORM ON THE HUDSON.

     

HE encampment of the cadets, for
the two hot months of July and
August, was upon the banks of the
“>” Hudson River, or rather not far
from that majestic stream, and where the
young soldiers could go to fish, swim and
enjoy boating in their leisure hours.

ne afternoon two cadets went out in a
small sail boat upon the river, and not
being expert sailors they were warned by

a number of their comrades, as a storm
was threatening.

One of these was Clarence Tarpley, who
though an excellent soldier was ignorant
of how to sail a boat, while his com-
panion, Will Benson, possessed very little
more knowledge than he did as to the
duties of a sailor.

Will Benson was one of Tarpley’s par-
ticular chums, a couple of years younger,
and was known as Tarpley’s shadow, for
he was constantly near him. ;

He had crossed the ocean several times
with his father, who went each year to
Europe, and became convinced by this

>

amount of voyaging that he knew all

about a boat, which was a sad mistake.
The little boat went away beautifully,

and had very nearly crossed the river, but

 

 

then that was before the wind.
Then the breeze died out and left it

   
   

*
  

  

GOoOoD NEWS. |

 

~ ~. -

 

  
   
    
  
   
   
    
   
  
 
  
  
  
  

the river, which, however,
lown stream.

was fickle, and coming up
e other shore sent the boat
ts starting-point again, and
oral Tarpley congratulated
upon his seamanship, he not
srstanding the situation.
ywreeze did not hold good, and
A out before the boat got within
d yards from the shore.

pre were some of the cadets who were
ors, or had been, and they shouted ad-
vice to Will Benson, while many more
who knew nothing whatever about a boat
did the same.

“Let go your anchor, Benson, or you'll
drift out to sea,” shouted one.

“Take a reef in your rudder, Benson,
and throw your skipper overboard,” yelled
another.

“Lower your sails, man, for it is
squally,” was some good advice offered,
followed by:

“Tarpley’s your Jonah, so cast him into
the sea!”

“Lower your sails and drop your
anchor!” came in more good advice.

“Haul down your mast and let fly your
foreyard arm!” came in a ringing voice,
as though the speaker knew all about it.

“Jam your bowsprit hard down. Ben-
son, let go all hold and tumble overboard,”
came with a yell, followed by:

“Take to your oars, Benson, or that
storm will swamp you!”

“T’ve got no oars,” cried Benson, now
in a lull of the advice offered.

“Jump overboard and swim ashore,
then.”

“T can’t swim, confound you!” yelled
Benson.

“Nor can I,” shouted Clarence Tarpley.

“Boat ahoy! what boat is that?’ came
in stentorian tones from the shore, fol-
lowed by the words, as no answer came:

“Keep off, or I’ll fire into you!”

“Boarders ahoy, to repell boarders!”

Wild bursts of laughter followed these
rallies at the poor unfortunates who were
now becoming alarmed at their situation.

Benson had followed the advice to let
go the anchor, but the sheet halyards were
knotted and he could not lower sail. The
wind was coming up now, for the storm
was threatening to burst very soon upon
them.

“Cut your halyards and let your sails
come down or you’ll be over!” cried one
who knew, and the situation becoming
critical there was no more joking,

“Not a single other boat was near to go
to their aid, and as the wind was favor-
able, and would have blown them ashore
the two cadets tried to get up the anchor,

But it had become foul of something in
the bottom of the river, and they could
not budge it from its bed.

As both of them tugged at the cable,
standing on the bow of the boat, a great
shout of warning arose from the cadets
on the shore.

“For God’s sake cut your halyards and
let your sails run down!” came in a deep
voice from an officer who now saw their
danger and realized it fully.

But they had lost their head now, and
tugged and tugged at the anchor.

“Tf we can get that up, Clarence, we
cam run right ashore,” said Benson, not
taking into consideration that the gale
coming down upon them would drive
them upon the rocky shore with a force to
shiver the boat to atoms, even if it did
not capsize them before they got there.

ee could not see the necessity of cut-
ting the halyards to lower sail; and so on
ey worked to free the anchor from its

oul.

One glance did Tarpley take at the sail,
as a third warning came from the shore,
and then his common sense told him that
it must come down.

“Your knife, quick, Benson, or we are
lost—see that storm-cloud, and night al-
most upon us!”

But Benson could not find his knife,
and the next moment there came a vivid
flash of lightning followed by a deafening
itadaratan

But from the shore arose a wild cheer
as a form suddenly leaped clear from a
point of rocks and went downward into
the river.

“Some brave fellow is coming to our
aid, Benson,” cried Clarence Tarpley, for
a quick glance had shown him that the
bold leaper from the rocks was _ hatless,
coatless, and shoeless.

On he came with bold strokes, his arms
tirelessly rising and falling, and the cheers
of his comrades reaching his ears to en-
courage him in his palicne undertaking,

And unable to find his knife Benson told
Tarpley they could do nothing to help
themselves, so they stood in silence watch-
ing the white face of their daring rescuer.

_And with the more vivid flashes of
lightning and terrific bursts of thunder
they would turn and glance at the tempest
rushing toward them.

Who is he?” arose in a chorus from the
shore, where the cadets were grouped, and
every eye nose some ‘one who could an-
swer, for, in his flying leap, he had not
been recognized.
Then, as they beheld a cadet appear on

 

$
-

the point of rocks from whence the other ' knives made but little impression on it, | though some terrible calamity was near

had leaped a voice called out:
“Who is he, Percy.”
“Cadet Corporal Carey,” came back the
ringing reply of Harold Percy.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
~~ o> __-_—__--—

ON LAND AND SEA;

California in the Years 1843, 44 and 45

By WILLIAM H. THOMES,
Author of ‘‘The Gold-Hunters of Australia,” ‘The

 

“Life in the East Indies,” ‘‘A Slaver’s Adven-
tures,” ‘Running the Blockade,” ‘-A Whale-
man’s Adventures,’ ‘‘The Belle of Australia,”
ete.,

ye
(“On LAND AND SEA” was commenced in No. 3.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

nN

CHAPTER V.—(Continued.)

that incident with the bears, so we
wandered down to the Custom
House, and heard the loud shouts of the
Mexicans with perfect indifference, as we
knew that we were safe at all events.

We passed Old Cook’s pulperia, and
saw Jones and English Jack fast anchored
inside, and dicussing the relative merits of
a stick or knife in defending one’s self
against a Mexican attack. There seemed
to be a difference of opinion regarding the
utility of either weapon, and while one
favored a stick, the other fancied a knife,
and we left them to settle the matter, re-
fusing to drink a glass of aguardiente, as
we feared that it would cause us to get
into trouble, and so injure our reputation
in the town. We wanted to stand well
with the people, in the hope of furthering
the voyage, and thus benefiting the own-
ers, and ourselves at the same time.

It wanted two hours of sundown, and
we did not know what to do until that
time, as we desired not to lose a minute
of our liberty. We saw some Indians pass
us, coming from the Point of Pines, with
strings of pearl shells which they had
pried off the rocks, for they -were very
plentiful in those days, but I suppose
there are none now, there was such a de-
mand for them a few years ago. The In-
dians used to put the shells on a fire and
cook the tough, indigestible substance
that was found inside. These shells ad-
hered to the rocks, as though riveted there

 

by nails of steel, and cost some efforts to |

get them off.

We thought that we could have time to
go and gather some of the shells, and
,0ped that the captain would like them
to adorn his cabin, and take home to his
friends. We were then disposed to be
very friendly with the old man, and to
encourage him when necessary. Besides,
we feared that he would suspect us of the
bear episode, and so blame us, until we
had made our explanation, and proved
how humane we were.

We started at once, although Simple
Davy did not like the notion, but we took
him along, for fear he would get; into mis-
chief in case we left him alone. We passed
the broad ravine, climbed the bank, and
entered the fort, defended by one soldier,
who was standing guard, and smoking a
cigarette, all of his companions having
one up town to see the fun, and kill the
ndians, if oe eed to prevent a rising.

The defender of the honor of California
ut down his musket, old and rusty, and
1eld out his hand for a piece of tobacco,
As we supplied his wants he was quite
pleasant,and let us look over the fort at
our leisure and to examine the superb
brass guns, of real Spanish make, but
when we proposed to load one, and fire it
point-blank at the Dale, the Mexican re-
fused to comply with our request, because
he said there was only about a steps of
sg tied in the magazine, and that must
e kept on hand in case of an emergency,
such as a sudden revolution, or something
of the kind. There had not been one, the
soldier said, for three months or more,
but there was no telling how soon fight-
ing might break out, and, if it should
happen, the army would do its duty, or
pan to a man, although he did not
<now which side he should be on, for or
against the government. It would depend
on circumstances, which we supposed
meant money, as the one who owned the
largest funds had the most circumstances
is his favor, as a general thing.

But we thought the Mexican ery, brave,
and told him so. He seemed to like.the
compliment, and asked us to give him
some more tobacco, which we did, and
then left the fort, and went to the rocks
on the Point of Pines.

Here we found a large number of pearl
oysters, and we hacked them off with our
knives, and had hard work to doso. At
last_ we came across one monstrous big

 

shell, that we were anxious to secure, but
it adhered so closely to the rocks that our

|and, in spite of his exertions, he could not

Bushrangers,” ‘‘The Gold-Hunters in Europe,” | free himself from the firm grip of the

 

OMEHOW the town did not seem to |
have many attractions for us after |

 

 

although we did start the upper edge, and
could just get our fingers in trying to
pry itoff. Ourstrength was not sufficient,
and at last we called upon Davy to lend
us a helping hand, but we had to scold
him before he would rouse himself to act
with us, and we did not think it very
kind on his part after all we had done to
amuse him during the day.

“You take hold here,” Lewey said to
Davy, “and den off it go quick. Now den,
ve pry vid de knives, and you pull.”

Davy exerted all of his strength, and
just then my knife slipped out, and
uewey’s followed suit, and the shell closed
up, and the ordinary seaman’s fingers
were caught, and heldas if in a trap,

shell.

“TI say,” cried Davy, “this hurts.
me out of it.”

“Oh, pull the shell off,” we exclaimed,
and went in search of some others that
we saw, and which we thought we could
xet without much trouble, and entirely

isregarded the sailor’s cries for help.

We were quite successful in our explor-
ations, and secured twenty ‘very nice
shells, which we strung on a vine, and
were heading toward the landing when
we suddenly remembered Davy, and went
to look for him, as he had been silent for
a long time. We found that the tide had
come in while we were busy, and the
water was upto his knees, but he had
got mad, and would not shout, not even
if he was “drowned,” as he forcibly ex-
pressed it.

We kicked off our shoes in a hurry,
rolled up our trousers, and jumped into
the water, hacked away at the large shell,
and, after a while, succeeded in releasing
Davy from his imprisonment, but his
fingers were bruised and bleeding, so strong
had been the pressure upon them.

“Think yer mighty smart, don’t yer?”
Davy asked as he rubbed his fingers, and
looked at them a little sorrowfully, yet
the good-natured fellow did not exhibit a
sign of anger for the cruel trick which we
had played on him.

“Vhy you no sin
manded Lewey, in his usual impulsive
way.

“Sing out?” asked Davy; “didn’t I
sing out as loud as I could, and yer never
minded me. Think yer funny and smarties,
don’t yer?” and into his mouth went his
fingers.

“No, we didn’t think anything of the
kind, for we had not intended to injure
the best-natured man on board the ship.
It was only forgetfulness on our part.”

“Tf I had been left till the water cov- |
ered my head, I wouldn’t have squawked |
agin,” Davy said, with firmness. “But I
should have seen all you boys hung at the
yard-arm for murder, that’s what I
should,”

How the thing was to be accomplished
he did not explain, and we were so sor-
rowful for the wrong we had inflicted on
the poor fellow that we promised him a
glass of aguardiente, or wine, at our ex-
pense, if he would keep quiet, and say no
more about it, and he consented to make
no complaint.

As the sun was getting low, we should-
ered our shells, and made the best of our
way to the landing-place, as we saw the
quarter-boat and pinnace coming on shore
for the liberty men.

The quarter-boat was left under our:
charge, to pull the old man and Mr. Mel-
lus on board, when they got ready to go,
and then the members of the larboard
watch came rolling down to the beach, in
company with some of the Dale’s crew,
and there was the customary embracing,
and vows of eternal friendship, and the
usual rows, one or two fights, and Mr.
jyoodhue, the third mate, was called some
hard names, but he didn’t retort, as he
knew that it would do no good.

As English Jack stepped into the boat
he delivered a long benediction on Cali-
fornia; and Monterey in particular, and
the last words that I heard, just before
he tumbled into the bottom of the pin-
nace, were:

“It’s a bloody hole, and no place fora
sailor. The rum is the only good thing in
the country.”

Then the boat pushed off, and was rowed
to the ship, and the men parbuckled over
the side, had their suppers, a few quar-
rels, one or two fights, and all was quiet
as the mate could expect py seven o’clock,
and at that hour the old man hove in
sight, and he looked very thoughtful as
he told us to get the boat ready, and,
when we had Jaunched it, so that it floated
at the bows, but was aground astern, thus
enabling the captain to pues into the
stern-sheets without wetting his feet, we
gave the customary shove, tumbled in,
and bent to our oars.

For a moment there was an ominous
silence, like the calm before the gale.
Then the storm began, just as we feared
it would.

“Dis is de last day you boys has liberty
on shore Sunday while you is on dis
coast,” he said. Fs

We pulled on in silence. We felt as

Let

 

out, you fool?” de-

 

| de haune

‘at hand, like an earthquake, ora typhoon,
| or a volcanic eruption.

The captain con-
tinued :

“You goes on shore, and I tells you to
act like young gentlemen, and vhat does I
see?”

As we did not know what he had really
seen we held our tongues, but we breathed
hard, and Davy muttered something about
shells, and sore fingers.

“I tells all de peoples vot nice boys I
has, and dey believes me,” the captain
continued.

We wanted to thank him for the com-
pliment, but he did not seem to expect us
to reply, so we remained silent. Modest
merit is always shy, and we had much
merit, but were not so shy as we might
have been.

“Now vot does de peoples say?” asked
the captain, after a breathing spell.

We continued silent, but we Tosiad they
appreciated us, and our efforts to amuse
them, and to have their fete day go off
with becoming success.

“Dey say dat you is de wust boys dat
ever vas on shore in Monterey,” the cap-
tain said, and he seemed to imagine that
there was some truth in the assertion.

We did not think that the people of Mon-
terey possessed much judgment in their

| estimate of distinguished visitors.

“You oe dem blanked crackers under
1es Of de Indian,” the old man
continued.

“Ve vanted to see him jump, sir,” Lewey
said, in very humble tones.

“Vell, he did jump, and de peoples dinks
dat arevolution burst out,” the captain
remarked, with ill-suppressed wrath.

“I should like to see a revolution, sir,”
IT said. “Hope they will have one before
long.’

“Ben. you dance vid de scum of de town,
and no good boys vould do dat,” the old
man went on, not noticing my candid re-

.
’

| mark.

We had our doubts on that point, but
did not think it prudent to argue the sub-
ject with our superior. It is not good
policy to discuss matters of a public na-
ture with the master of a ship, unless you
are on shore, and free from his authority.
Then if he gets mad you can laugh at him.

“Ve thought dey vas de belles of de
town,” Lewey ventured to suggest, in @
mild, humble tone, alluding to the dark-
eyed girls.

“Belles of Beelzebub,” roared the cap-
tain. “Dey vas no good for boys to dance
vid. Don’t let me see you do dat agin.”

We promised that he should not, if we
could avoid it, and meant it.

“Den you rides horseback, and runs over
all de old vimmen in de town, and you
kills some dogs, and de peoples talks to
me about it,” Captain Peterson continued.

We wondered if the Mexicans had also

raised our AERO NE. As for the
ogs, we knew they could be spared. There
were enough of them in the town. .

“Den you breaks up a cock-fight vid
some blasted fire-crackers, and all de fust
peoples in de town is mad.” :

“We wanted to discourage such im-
moral practices on the Sabbath,” I ven:
tured to hint, thinking the point a good
one, but it did not carry any weight and I
wondered if the captain had bet on the
wrong bird, and lost money.

“Den you tells me dat *borrico’ is the
name of bear in Spanish,” the captain
said, and that appeared to make him more
angry than anything else; “and dat young
lady laugh.”

“She vas von beautiful fille,” Lewey
cried. “I sees no von like her in dis
place.”

“Den some von cuts de lashing of de
bear. Vich von does dat?” thundered the
old man.

We were discreetly silent. At length
Lewey attempted an explanation. i

“IT sees an Indian vid a knife in his
hand. He vas drunk, and he might hab
done all. dat. Ve goes on shore to hab
some fun, and it has been von yery dul
day for us.” y

“Yes,” I remarked, before the captal?
could regain his breath, “if our liberty
days on shore don’t amount to more than
this one, we should prefer to remain on
board, and study navigation,” a favorite
hobby of the captain’s, and one which he
endeavored to impress upon our minds &
all times, for he wanted to make us skill-
ful navigators, and really took mue
trouble to lend us books, and a quadrant
to experiment with. We made some pro-
gress, but did not have time to do more
than take the sun at noon, and work dead-
reckonings when we were forced to.

“You goes on shore no more on liberty
until you learns to behave yourselves,
was the last word the captain said on the
subject. “In vid your bow oar. Vay
enough. Hook on de boat, and hoist it

up,” and the old man seized the mav--:

ropes, and went on deck.

e must have forgotten his threats, for
we heard no more about restricting 0U
liberty, except when we were ready to eM;

joy it, and then we were merely cautione

to be good, and we were, as a matter 0
course.
The next day, in spite of aching head#,

 

  

 

   

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eS

ee Oo as Uwe UP we Se ee a

re oona

 
 
   

mee

 

Aa

 

 

ee

and sore bodies, we were roused out at |
' tour o’clock in the morning, and set at!

Work removing goods from the Custom
Ouse, and returning them to the ship.

ll the heavy boxes had to be rolled down |

© steep bank, and over the rocks, then
Waded into the launch, and hoisted on
It was cruel work, and the men

) tumbled, but it had to be done, and,
quarter-boat was not engaged |

When the
M carrying off traders to the ship, we had
h tow the launch back and forth, and
‘Helped load it.

€ along for us, and we soon learned
h W to handle them, and carry them on our
oy through the surf, so that they

fee not get wet, but we were not cheer-
Under the thought that every hide we
a ered was for the Barnstable, instead
tthe Admittance.

Me day in the latter part of March |

tue One cried out, “Sail ho!” and round
; “i Point of Pines appeared a_nice-look-
ship, with the American flag at the
, and we wondered who she could be.
ig ellus came on deck from the store-
e th M, and said that if was our consort,
€ Barnstable, and he was right. She
I close to us, clewed up her topsails,
aloha anchor, and then her men went
lai’ and furled all her topsails at once,
sho down and stowed the courses, and in a
i? time the ship was in et condi-
and The yards were squared by lifts
hi braces, and a boat was lowered, man-
Y four boys, and the master, Captain
te} , Came on board of us, and remained
hi Mner. He sent the boat back to his
to Much to our regret, for we wanted
' y.Bterview those boys, and see if there
Cali any fun in them, and on the coast of
Mifornia,
aid” on the same evening Mr. Prentice
@ visit to the mate of the Barnstable,
Went yo pulled him on board, and then
down into the steerage, and saw the
any? ut there were at four of them,
they did not seem to have much ani-
fie So we — forward into the
fastle, and found a very nice crew, all

then Seamen, but most of them English-
fin? and some had served in first-class
Rites and line-of-battle ships.
Calis. did not give us a good account of
the mia. They had left San Francisco
ptornin before, where they had been
fathering h
haq@eward ports, to discharge what they
bee Collected at San Diego. They had
Non the coast almost eighteen months,
ibj, V2nted to get home as soon as pos-
& and they
Wong nce with great delight,
taking of them in the arduous under-

Ay f doing most of their dirty work.
Mogp ited in pronouncing the country the

Ae kay God-forsaken hole that was ever
Would to man, and not one of the men
hide live there, they said, for all the
“the 22d tallow that were gathered on

Stated’ in a year’s time. Monterey, they

Othe, Vas a paradise as compared to the
Bt parts, and San Francisco the mean-
fop pace that the sun ever shone upon,
"Uo, Ue people were filthy greasers, and

Stian’s regard. They also declared

“couraged.
Then they,
timgfood time the ship’s crew had, and in-
€d that the Barnstable could sail

id
the poe know but that she might, as both
€ssels were constructed at Duxbury,

Uhqe, “Iter the crew had seen our sh
“all
Ng j

‘o Us

gh, her ri and new sails,

hile

% {2ndled with tender care.
Meet Of the boasts we remained dis-

ly
| tor? bea:

8
foug of a soldier’s life.
dink
thi
4

They
ThepLorses were capering and. prancing,
accoutrements shone like a star,

WwW young Edwin, her gallant hussar.”

T
ny “ the son

as
Boog: lo

1

ts

Wy Perfect and romantic.

One his

 

ut I thought I could

ides, and were now bound to}

hailed the arrival of the |
as she}

Christie a white man’s notice, or a

Wag We would catch it before :the voyage |
€nded, and were otherwise cheered

boasted of their vessel, and
and round the Admittance, and we

later? and by the same builders; but

ip
tna Way, the boasting suddenly cedned
bets were declared off, for the only
N which the Barnstable was superior
Very we in her bulwarks which were

W ing,
bo he Surs were o a and rotten, and had

Silent, even Lewey refusing to
| hy . little for the honor of his craft;
the; ter the men had blanked California
T heart’s content, a brawny old fel-
rded like a Turk, was called on

Tf foy 28 and, instead of pitching on the
\ a theme, actually sang of the de-
I wish that I
Temember all the ballad, but I can
g, °f but one verse, and that ran like

She 1€ plains, as they were rapidly advancing,

h
hg ] x went on to say that the
her ady, noble, rich, and with a title
Name, had fallen in love with the
e poking soldier, sent for him, and
d all an offer of her hand and heart,
her fortune, to make the thing
ap As Edwin
: tat the *PPear to be a fool, he accepted,
p yite army, and lived on the lady's es-
Mite happy in the thought. that he
duty to his queen, and to

 

Th
‘ Nolan og was received with rapturous
’ etect a

GooD

shade of disappointment that the soldier
had not been a bold tar, who had roamed
the ocean blue and seen many countries.
But the sailors were generous, and did not
repine at the good fortune of the hussar,
Wieck he was.

Then an old man-of-war’s man, who al-
ways boasted that he was a boy on board
the line-of-battle ship Bellerophon, that
carried Boney to the Island of St. Helena,
and was fond of telling just how the
great man looked, what he said, and how

| he would eae the ears of the lads who
Ch Ce in a while a lot of hides would}

oak ho

came near him, piped his tunes to a dif-
ferent lay, and sang a love song, which
was uproariously applauded. It was fol-
lowed by aired een from various per-
sons present.

At last the third mate of the Barnstable
came forward, and shouted down the
forecastle:

“Away Admittance,” and we went on
deck, but not until I had received from
the man-of-war’s man a promise to tell
me, at some future time, all about Boney,
how he looked and conducted himself on
board of the ship that carried him to his
last barren home, where he died a chained
eagle, that all the crowned heads of
Europe feared, and at whose name, even
at this late day,some Frenchmen shed tears.

We pulled to the Admittance, and then
returned to the Barnstable with Captain
Hatch; who had stopped on board our
ship to spin yarns with Captain Peterson,
art after the boat was hoisted up, turned
in, and growled as usual when we were
called to stand anchor watch.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_—_—_——e—»—____——

THE BOY GUIDE OF RICH MOUNTAIN

A STORY OF WEST VIRGINIA.

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.

Cig intanlllyeemanichins

Om

N the summit of Rich Mountain, in
G2) West Virginia, in the early days of

reer the war, stood a plain farm-house,

Hart. A few acres of rich, dark soil sur-

rounded the house, and from there the’ far-
mer and his family obtained a comfortable
Indeed, the mountain receives its
name from the very unusal richness of the

living.

soil.

Over the top of the mountain winds the
Parkersburg and Staunton Pike, affording

the regular route for travelers.

It was at a point commanding the ascend-
ing road, and in the immediate neighbor-

hood of the Hart farm, that General Garnett,

at the head of a Confederate force, had with
He knew that
General McClellan, in command of a body

rare sagacity posted himself.

of five thousand Union soldiers, would,

without doubt, attempt the passage of the
mountain by ‘this very road, and in that
case no earthly power could save him from

destruction. Fighting behind strong in-
trenchments. General Garnett would pour
death and destruction into the Federal

ranks, as ninety years before the American
force, on Bunker Hill, had nearly annihi-
It will be remem-
bered that they were compelled to vacate
their position only when their ammunition

lated the British troops.

gave out.

As I have said Farmer Hart was a Union
Those who dwell on mountains have
generally been lovers of liberty, and devoted

man.

patriots, and Hart was not an exception.

He watched General Garnett’s progress in
anxiety and
alarm, for he understood very well his pur-
pose, and the danger that menaced General

erecting fortifications with

McClellan.

“Joe,” said he, in a low voice, to his only
son, a stout boy of sixteen, ‘‘do you see

those breast-works ?”
“Yes, father.”
“Do you know what they mean ?”’
“T think I can guess.”

“They mean destruction and defeat to

General McClellan.”

“But he may not attempt to cross the

mountain.”
“He must.

have.”

“Have you heard that he is coming, fa-

ther?” asked Joe.

“Yes; I was part way down the mountain
yesterday, and I heard it from a trustworthy

source,”

“Can’t we do anything father?” asked Joe,

who was a Union boy.

“That is what I am coming to my boy.
General McClellan must be warned not to

march up the hill,”
‘‘How can he come, then?”
“By the other side.”
‘‘But there is no road there,”

“That is true; but there are few trees, and
the ascent, though rough, is not impracti-
The laurel is thick on the side of the

cable,

| struction.”

| to avert suspicion.

occupied by a Union man named

This is on his regular road.
You can see what a terrible reception he will

NEW 5.

mountain, and so matted that a man can
walk on the tops.”
“I know it, father.
way myself,”
“Very well. Then you can give the gen-|
eral directions how to come.”

“J, father!” exclaimed Joe, in astonish-
ment.

‘Certainly. It would never do for me to
seek the Federal camp. Asa man, I should |
be suspected, and my life would pay forfeit.
You are a boy, and no particular notice will
be taken of you. Now, Joe, are you brave
enough to seek out the Union camp, and
give the general warning of what awaits
him ?”’

“Yes, father,” answered Joe, his honest |
face wearing a look of resolute determina-
tion.

‘Mind, I don’t command you to do this,
but, Joe, you have it in your power in all
probability to save the Union force from de-

I have come up that |

“Tl do it, father,” said Joe,
‘Now give me my directions.”

“Don’t start till night. You will attract
less attention. You must have some errand
What shall it be?”

‘««T’ll tell you, father. Ill say that one of
our cows has strayed away, and I am in
search of her.”

“That will do. Now, lad, you will need all
your pluck, and to have all your wits about
you. Remember how much depends upon
you.”

“Don’t fear for me, father,” said the
young hero. ‘I am glad I can do some-
thing for my country.”

‘Well spoken, my boy! If you succeed, I
shall be proud of you.”

* * * * * * * * *

firmly.

|

 

About eleven o’clock, Joe, having pre-
pared himself for a night journey by sleep-
ing from seven o'clock till half-past ten, left
the farm-house with a whip in his hand,
and a careless, indifferent air.

His way led through the Confederate lines.

‘Where are you bound, boy?” was asked
more than once.

“One of father’s cows has gone astray,” he
answered, readily. ‘‘Confound the beast! I
wish she’d stay at home, and not take me
out of my warm bed.”

“All right! I hope you'll find her.”

“Thank you.”

Joe spoke so naturally that no suspicion
was excited. Once or twice he was asked
his name, but on answering Joe Hart, son
of Farmer Hart, he was allowed to pass.

lines.
terruption. The field was clear, and it was
only a matter of pluck and endurance.

Joe traveled all night and part of the next
day, stopping occasionally to rest. In the

overjoyed to catch sight of the advance
guard of McClellan’s army.

‘‘Halt, there, boy! Who are you, and
what is your errand ?”

“T want to see General McClellan.”

“What for?”

‘‘T'o give him some information.”

“Are you not a spy ?”

“No,” answered Joe, indignantly.
a good Union man.”

The officer smiled.

“You are rather young for a man,” he
said.

“T can do a man’s work,” said Joe, stoutly.

“What is this information you want to
give the general ?”

“The Confederates are plotting to capture
him and his army. I want to put him on
his guard.”

There was a little consultation, and it was
decided to conduct Joe under guard to the
general’s quarters.

“Who is this boy?"’ asked General McClel-
lan, as Joe entered his tent.

‘“‘He says there is a Confederate plot to
destroy our forces, and he wants to put you
on your guard.”

“What is your name ?” asked the general,
rather suspiciously.

“Joe Hart.”

“Who sent you to me?”

“My father,”

‘‘Where does your father live?”

“On the top of yonder mountain.”

‘Rich Mountain ?”

‘Yes, general.”

“It is the mountain we are to cross.”

‘‘You must not cross it—that is, you must
not go by the road.”

“Why not?”

“Because General Garnett has intrenched
himself there, and will open fire upon you
as you march up the hill.”

General McClellan turned to one of his
staff.

“Is this boy telling the truth, or is he an
emissary of the enemy?” he said.

“Tam

 

 

 

“The boy looks honest and trustworthy,”
said the officer,

|can cut them down, without making any

It was not long before Joe was beyond the |
After that there was no danger of in- |

afternoor, when quite exhausted, he was |

      

 
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
   
    
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
    
   
 
   
    
   
  
  
    
   
  
  
   
  
   
 
    
    
  
  
  
 
   
   
   
    
  
   
  
 
  
 
   
    
   
 
  
   
     
      
  
   
   
    
  
  
   
  
  
 
   
    
 
  
   
  
  
  
      
   
   
       
    

‘‘Appearances may be deceitful

“Tell the truth, my boy,” said ti
turning to Joe.

“T am telling the truth, general,’
earnestly.

«“But,” said General McClellan, ‘‘it
ble that you are aspy. Ifyou are,
discover it, you will be shot as a spy.”

“T am willing to be shot if what I say
not true,” answered Joe.

“Depend upon it, general, this boy may
be relied upon,” said the staff officer before
appealed to.

“Thank you, sir,” said Joe, gratefully.

“J am disposed to agree with you,” said
McClellan. ‘‘Now my boy, since we cannot
go up the mountain by the road, how are we
to go up?” :

“I will tell you,” answered Joe, eagerly.
‘There is a way up the other side of the
mountain. You leave the turnpike just at
the foot, and go round the base to where the
laurel is.”

“Ts there a road there ?”

“No, sir, and it is very steep, but I have
been up there, and you can do the same.”

“Are the trees thick ?”

“No; there are but few trees.”

‘Have any fallen across the path, so as to
make an obstruction ?”

“None.”

«‘What more can you tell us?”

“‘The laurel is very thick on the side of
the mountain, and so matted together that
a@ man can walk on the tops.”

“‘A man walk on the tops!
credible.”

“T have done it,” returned Joe.

‘Do you think my army can go up the
mountain over the tops of the laurel?”

“No sir. <A single man could do it, but
not an army.”

“But, my boy. I have a great many men,
and horses, and cannon, to take up, and how
do you think we can get over that laurel ?”’

“The trees are small, so small that you

That is in-

noise, with hatchets and knives; and they
will not know on the top of the mountain
what you are doing, or when you are com-
ing.”

Joe’s words were so evidently sincere, and
he appeared so intelligent, that no farther
doubt was expressed.

“We shall want a guide,” said the general.
“Can you serve in that capacity ?”

“Yes, general.”

‘Then I will change my plan. Tintended
to march by the road; I will follow your
route instead. You shall ride beside me,
and point out the way.”

“When do you mean to march, general?”

“To-night.”

“Then may I lie down somewhere, and
get a little sleep? Ihave been on my feet
since eleven last night.”

“Certainly, my boy. You shall sleep on
my own bed. It is not a very soft one, but
you will fare as well as L.”

“Thank you, general.”

The new plan was at once made known
to the leading officers, and an hour was fixed
for the start.

When the hour came, the army set out on
its march. At midnight they reached the
base of the mountain. In course of time
they reached the laurel trees described by
Joe. By the fitful light of the stars, with
knives and hatchets, the soldiers set to work
clearing away the obstructing trees. Some
hours were thus spent, but by daybreak the
way lay clear before them. Then com-
menced the steep ascent. All the horses
were left at the foot of the mountain from
necessity. The cannons were carried up
painfully and with difficulty by hand, and
left within a short distance of the top, in
such a-situation that they could readily be
moved forward when the time for attack
came,

Meanwhile General Garnett and his
officers had not a suspicion of what was be-
ing done by the enemy, whom they confi-
dently expected to entrap, until the Yankee
cannon began to boom and they found
themselves attacked from above and nearly
in their rear. Astonishment and dismay
prevailed, and they were able to make but a
feeble resistance. Then came a panic, and
they fled precipitately down the mountain,
hard pressed by the victorious Union troops.
The flight continued as far as Cheat River,
where the brave General Garnett was killed.
Thus was destruction averted from McClel-
lan’s foree, and a brilliant victory secured
by the pluck and prowess of a boy.

Joe received the hearty thanks of the Fed-
eral commander, and a substantial gift be-
sides, and his name is honorably enrolled
among the boy heroes of the war.

The reader may be assured that this story
is strictly true. . The writer is indebted for
the facts, and, in part, for the words used
by the characters to Frank Moore’s ‘‘Anec-
dotes, Poetry, and Incidents of the War,” '

 

 

   

 

 
    
      
   
  
 
  
  
 
 

ISSUED WEEKLY.
NEW YORK, AUGUST 7, 1890.

 

 

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All letters should be addressed to

STREET & SMITWS GOOD NEWS,
P. O. Box 2734. 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y.

Contributors to this Number.
“A Battle for His Own,” by Oliver Optic.
“Reckless Roll,” by James K. Lennox.

“Cadet Carey,” by Lionel Lounsberry (2d
Lieut. U. 8. Army).

“Down the Slope,” by James Otis.

“On Land and Sea,” by Wm. H. Thomes.

‘‘His Own Master,” by I. P. Miller.

“The Boy Guide of Rich Mountain,” by
Horatio Alger, Jr.

“Around the Camp-Fire,” by Harry Horr.

“Swipes,” by **Frank.” (Comic.)

‘Short Talks With the Boys,” by M. Quad.

“A Knight of the (Black) Bath,” by W. H.
Macy.

“How to be Brave,” by Harkley Harker.

‘Who Was Who?” by Emerson Bennett.

“Things Generally,” by Max Adeler.

Medal Awarded this Week to
ALEXANDER S. DRESCHER.

 

 

 

——_o~———

(From N. Y. Herald, June 30, 1890.)
FLAMES CAUSE A PANIC.

 

 

A FIRE IN A STANTON STREET TENEMENT
DRIVES THE PEOPLE OUT IN THEIR NIGHT
CLOTHES.

FIRE, which created considerable
excitement in the neighborhood
and caused a panic in the building,
< broke out shortly after midnight
last night in the big tenement-house at
No. 113 Stanton street. It caught in the
cigar-store of Adolph Scohlman, on the
ground floor, and rapidly spread to the
upper stories. Two young men, Alexander
rescher, of No. 36 Clinton street, and
John Rossner, of No. 16 Avenue B, were
passing at the time the fire broke out, and
seeing the danger of the sleeping inmates
dashed up stairs and awakened the
families by shouting and pounding on the
doors of their apartments.

There were sixteen families in the build-
ing, and when they learned that the place
was on fire a panic ensued. Rossner ran
down stairs, and, going up to the corner,
senf out an alarm while his companion
helped the people out of the house. Many
women and children fled into the street in
their night clothes and others dashed upon
the roof and escaped to the other houses
by means of iron bridges. In the mean-
time the flames had gone up the air shaft
and were bursting out through the roof.
A second alarm was sent out and in a few

‘minutes a number of engines and a squad

 

Goop

of police arrived. The firemen soon had
several streams of water on the building,
and after half an hour’s work they suc-
ceeded in getting the fire under control.

The neighborhood is one of the most
dangerous for a fire to break out in the
city, as it is one mass of big double tene-
ment houses, filled with people.

The fire damaged the building about
$2,500, and considerable furniture was
also destroyed.

New York, July 1, 1890.
Messrs. Street & Smith:
“Goop News” HuMANE SOCIETY.

Gentlemen:—Being a reader of yous val-
uable paper for several weeks, back and
always noticing in your columns that
heroism is to be rewarded by a gold medal
from your society, for performing some act
in saving lives, and by doing so jeopardize
one’s self, I most respectfully submit the
following:

On the morning of Monday, June 30,
1890, at about 12:30 o’clock, while passing
on my way home from a friend’s, I passed
down Stanton street, until about as far as
Essex street, when I wassuddenly startled
with a report and large volumes of smoke
and sheets of flames issuing from 113 Stan-
ton street, and the flames were peace
away out to the gutter. I quickly turne
back, seeing that all the inmates in the
house were in danger and well knowing
what loss of life would occur should they
not be aroused at once.

Myself and another young man, whom I
never met before, dashed into the house; I
ran up stairs, awoke all the occupants by
banging on their doors, shouting, etc.,
while the other young man rushed to the
corner to send out the alarm. I in the
meanwhile helped out the eight children
of the family of Aaron levy, who slept on
the first floor above his tailor shop, while.
he and his wife slept below. I then
ascended farther and chased some women
and children down the hallway who
seemed to be panic-stricken and knew not
what to do; I assisted them down, those
who were nearest to me by stairs, while I
ordered a retreat to the roof of those who
were on the uppermost stairs.

Thad a great deal of trouble with one
man in the crowd particularly, as he
wanted to go back for his jewelry and
mee thereby delaying some» people, es-

ecially women and children, from fleeing

or their lives.

I told him to thank God for his life, and
with that rushed the people down the
stairs into the street just as the flames
were working across the street_door.

Very respectfully,
ALEXANDER S. DRESCHER,
26 Clinton street.
[ Witnesses. }

RupoupH Hess, 89 E. 8th st.
Max WISNER, 80 So, 8th st., B’klyn.
WILLIAM M. JAmes, 171 E. 91st st.

On this the second day of July, in the
year one thousand eight hundred and
ninety, before me personally appeared
Alexander S. Drescher, to me known to be
the individual described in, and who ex-
ecuted the foregoing instrument and ac-
knowleded to me that he executed same.

LEOPOLD FALKENBERG,
Notary Public, 128,
City and County of New York.
New York, July 2, 1890.

We, the undersigned occupants of 113
Stanton street, do hereby certify, each one
for ourselves, that we have known the
person Alexander Drescher to have saved
us from what would have been a fatal
loss of life had we not been awakened by
on on the morning of Monday, June 30,

A. Levy, L. Stallmann, C. Levy, Lottie
Levy, Lizzie Stallmann, Emanuel Phillips,
Annie Phillips, Minnie Freeda, Philip
Freeda, M. Kalinger.

“Good News” Humane Society.

a

HEROISM TO BE REWARDED.

ee

IR sie aon the fact that there are

a large number of heroes who are

cy \ never rewarded in any way for risk-
“ ing their lives to save others, we
have formed a ‘Humane Society” in con-
nection with Goop Nrws.

The above cut is a fac-simile of a solid
gold medal which will be presented, suitably
engraved, to all who become members of
the above society. We also intend publish-
ing in the columns of Goop News, an
account of the deed which entitles one to
wear this emblem of heroism.

‘To do justice to all and avoid any decep-
tion, we will have to take extra precaution,
and we must therefore have an authentic
statement from a reliable source that the
party in question jeopardized his life in a
good cause.

The existence of this society dates from
May, 1890, and notice cannot be taken for

 

 

heroic acts performed prior to the date of
organization of this society.

NEWS.

After the 15th day of May, if any of your
young friends are entitled to become mem-
bers of this society and receive the gold
medal described above, write out a full his-
tory of the event and have it witnessed and
signed by three responsible citizens, and a
notary public of the town or city where it
happened.

There will, no doubt, be a large number
of our young readers who may perform
some act of heroism and yet not be a life-
saver. To all those we will give honorable
mention in the columns of Goop News.
The medal is intended for life-savers only.

i

How to be Brave.

ey

YA’. CRY of fire!
J > It is always terrible. But doubly

yh SO was this as the throngs of ladies
¢ and clerking girls of a vast dry
goods store looked up blanched with fear
to hear it.

“Fire! Fire!
ment! The book department
ablaze !”

God help me. I am willing to confess
frankly that I was absolutely powerless to
move. I had just bid good afternoon to
my wife and daughter as I was going out
of town; the two loved ones were already
lost in the crowd of hundreds that stood,
each rooted to.the spot, amid the confused
passageways and counters of the great
room. I could easily save myself, I knew,
for I was near the door. But to think of
that was worse than death. Could I find
my wife and child? To think of that sud-
denly seemed to fill my heart with a cour-
age, a dogged daring, which I never knew
I possessed. Yet impulsively I did start
toward the street door. My legs shook so
that Icould not have walked those ten
feet, Lam sure, without sinking to the
floor to be trodden on.

eines Let every one try to go slowly
out!”

But the voice that spoke it seemed to
have no effect. Not a soul of the multi-
tude moved. The paralysis of terror was
not broken. Of course, all this took place
in less time than I use in writing a dozen
words. The next instant the panic would
begin. In fact, the first low tremblin
murmur of that scream, that shout an
yell of panic, was already distinguishable.

Some began to sink as if fainting. You
must understand that I am coolly an-
alyzing that horrible moment in my li-
brary, ten days later. I am dissecting it,
trying to discover the secret of the brave,
so far as any were brave.

“No! Don’t!” I looked up and saw a

ale-faced youth on top of ee of ging-

ams. I remember o wondered who he
was that dared assume authority and con-
tradict the last voice’s order to go out.
But before I could guess who he was, he
cried out, clear and steady, “Let every one
stand still! Remember, the children in
the room should go first!”

That one sentence, directing us to self-
forgetfulness, acted like magic. It repro-
duced in me the calm that I had already
felt when my mind dwelt on rescuing my
wife and daughter, forgetting self. The
women began to push their children along
and themselves to stand back, making
way. Every eye seemed to be searchin
for a child, and not a way of persona
escape. Here and there a little one was
being passed over the heads of others by
a bridge of manly arms. The smell of the
smoke was now unmistakable, yet the
attempt to rescue the helpless first had
taken us over the danger point of any
wild rush. The next instant the wel-
come cry, “All out! No danger!” echoed
like the blessing of God over our heads,

I afterward asked the pale-faced hero
who had saved us all where he learned
his secret. “Get ’em to forgettin’ them-
selves,” he answered, “and women is the
bravest of the brave. I’ve tried it twice
now in this store. A fireman told me—in
fact, he’s my brother-in-law, Captain of
Sixty-four—that the only way to go into
a burning building is to forget that you
can burn. You want to fasten your mind
on the other fellow who is in there burning.
Then you don’t seem to think you are
made of flesh and blood at all.”

So is the soldier brave, when, for a noble
cause, he forgets that he can be shot. The
captain on the sinking ship, thinking of
his charge, his honor, and other lives, for-
gets that he can drown; he stands there
till the last boat load leaves her side, with
all the courage of a deathless being; he
really has the consciousness of being above
all the usual laws of nature. The grapple
with an assaulting villain is total forget-
fulness; the brave defender is only think-
ing of the innocent victim, and with all
seft-cohaatonsnées of an avenging angel he
exposes a heart, that he thinks cannot be

ierced, to the steel of a scoundrel. I be-
ieve there is no time in a woman’s life
when she forgets that she is mortal, and
may be hurt, except the moment when her
child, her lover, her friend is in danger.
Woman’s courage is unselfishness; it is
the very highest courage, for she is not

    

There’s a fire in the base-
is all

 

physically strong. If any y

this, who desires that bright ornament of
manhood, true courage, let him learn

sink self in the cause which he would de
fend; to forget self for the sake of those ™

whom he would bravely serve i

of peril Let him drown self in duty, and
duty will change him into a very go
Neptune, to outride the tempest of life’

sea without a fear.

HARKLEY HARKER:

Our “A” Contest.

 

 

Letters From the Successful
Srouae
MEssrs. STREET & SMITH :—

Gents :—It is with pleasure that I acknowledge
the receipt of your check for $50, as first P

in the letter “A” contest. In fact,

unexpectedly that it fairly took my breath away’
Had | not received your letter, it is quite Ccé
that I should never have thought of the m@ oD
You can therefore imagine my surprise ist
being informed of my good luck, for such I @

again.

call it, as I certainly could not ha
matter any more careful study than

other contestants. However, gentlemen, it15
my intention to bore you with any flattering jor
marks, so permit me to tender you my thanks ay i
your generosity, and be assured Goop NEWS Seat
receive my patronage and approbation. With

wishes for its future success, 1 remai
yours,

Letter from Miss Minnie Corpman, cation
second prize, not received in time for publi

in this issue.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, N. Y. Cr

Gentlemen :—I was very much surprised
morning when I received your letter contala
your check for $25, as third prize guesser 10 Vag

I nave tak

letter ‘“‘A” contest. 1 can say that

your paper from the first number, and am W
to pronounce it the best I have yet read. 18
considerable time on counting the num

times the letter ‘‘A” was used in the

of the second page of the four Goop NEWS: ber:

then doubled it. This gave mean e

I changed the last figure to 9, thus making It ot
This is the first time 1 ever received a priz@og
such a thing. Wisbing you and your many
ers the greatest success, I remain, ver 8.
Miss  RANKIE JON

yours,

MEssrs. STREET & SMITH :—

d
How can I thank you for your nice letter Sil
check for $20, received for the fourth suc ap

guess of the letter ‘‘A” contest?

paper all the time, and am quite please iy
and intend to try again for a prize, 140 nit

reading the stories in Goop NEws.
every success, and many thanks,
Respectfully,
112 East 22d st.
JITTLE
MEssrs. StrEET & SMITH :—
Gentlemen:—I received your le

inst., with inclosed check for $15, the ainoUnt sf
fifth guess in the Goop News guessing Corpses d
Please accept my thanks for same, and best pic?

for the success of your paper, Goop

is 4 favorite with me, and as it has brow

good luck, I shall continue to read

i
that you will meet with good luck in gainiDg Soy
scribers for the paper, and that you may. be
repaid for your liberality and efforts to plea
May M. Brows

BucHANAN,

readers. Very truly yours,

STREET & SMITH :—

I received your check for $10, for the
offered for one of the guesses advertised 10 jaye
I am now thirteen years old, a2
been attending school very steadily, al rune
days after our school was out I was unfo
enough to cut my foot very bad, and had
bed, and while looking over the pages u
News I saw the advertisement, and tbh pe ;

g I would yell? FE
of the lucky ones, but I think I can fully aPP
Iremain, as ever, your friend,

NEws.

would try my luck, little expectin

the prize.
EDGAR

SENECA FALLS, Ne ©

MEssrs. STREET & SMITH :—

Dear Sirs:—Your letter of the 27th ie
with check for $5, and I am most heartily P cf
Wy

with it.

maybe more so, but 1 am very much
that, and as long as Goop NrEws is

will have a steady reader in me (and th
Bones } hope), as 1 gs falking os my

ealer this morning, and telli iim
. a the panel

cess, I inquired into the success of

this town, and he said, of all the story-paPe

handled he thought Goop News was

that every week brought him more 8U £0 st
And I want to say to those that do read Ih for.
to it, and to those that don't, to begin DOW" eek

is growing better and more popular

n ie
and, as far as I am concerned, I <a spiD8 is

highly enough for Goop News, and

publishers success and prosperity, I rem sas
ON 8. i

truly,

 

NEST WEEK-NO ip’
We will commence a story of thr

terest, entitled,

RANSOMED:;
THE CAPTIVES OF THE APAOME)

——_o—_—.

A SEQUEL TO EN

By EDWARD §. ELLIS.

 

   

JOHN M. SW.

Genesxo, N. ¥

It was the first time 1 ever tried a?
like it, and it encourages a person, and D
the rest of the boys and girls that read GOOP ash
would take a little time, and not give UP Beds
they would be as successful as I have sed 4
plea

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n any hour

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GOOD NEWS.

 

201

 

were out of the store Skip Miller came
from his hiding-place without having been
seen by the superintendent or his clerks.

The leader of the regulators lounged care-
lessly toward the door until satisfied no
one was paying any particular attention
to him, when_he stepped briskly out, and
walked rapidly to a groggery situated
at the feether end of the town.

Here, as he had anticipated, was Cale
Billings and a select party of friends, all
of whom were discussing their late defeat.

Skip did not care to state the reason for
his coming in the presence of the entire
party, and waited patiently in one corner
of the room until it should be possible to
beckon the leader out of doors.

DOWN THE SLOPE,

A STORY OF THE MINES.

cmncpasniiendippeeemiatns

By JAMES OTIS,

Author of “The Tour of the Rambler’s Club,”
“In the Bad Lands,” etc.

I“Down THE SLOPE” was commenced in No. 8. Back
Numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. ]

CHAPTER XI.
BILLINGS AND SKIP.

 

    

\\ f there was much to fear from the
¥) late rioters, so far as the possibility |
of their making an entrance through |

he makes a big mistake.
us out of this town, no matter how much

 

Bere ‘er “Wright may think we’re whipped,”
(por BRACE did not appear to think Billings was saying; “but that’s where |

He can’t drive | to settle with him myself.”

“P’raps I heard somethin’ ’round to the | studied carefully; but in it was found no
store you’d want to know.” {solution to the problem, and when they
“Say, if you’ve got anything to tell, out| retired that evening nothing definite had
with it, for I can’t fool away my time | been decided upon.
with you.” 5 | The night shift went to work as usual,
“First I’ve got a trade to make.” {and but for the evidences of wanton de-
“Talk quick.” struction a stranger would hardly have
“Do you know the new breaker boy?| mistrusted that Farley’s had fately been
The one what’s so thick with Wright | a scene of rioting.
an’ Joe Brace?” On the following morning Fred passed
a Oe | through the breaker to speak to Donovan
"I want to get square with him, an’ if | before entering the slope, and Skip Miller
you’ll help me do it I’ll tell what I heard | displayed the greatest excitement on see-
a lot of ’em saying.” ing him.
“Was it anything I’d like to know?” | “I don’t know how it could have hap-
“It'll show jest. how you can get the! pened,” the breaker said, “for I
best. of the whole crowd.” haven’ told even my own wife that you
“Then I’ll do what I can, an’ be glad of | was to be Joe’s butty; but these young
the chance, ’cause I’ve got a little score} villains know all about it. I've heard
| Skip tellin’ his cronies, an’ I’m sure
Skip no longer hesitated; but repeated | they're me to some mischief. Be careful,
an’ don’t go outside alone, leastways,

boss

 

 

the old shaft was concerned.

“This end of the gallery is pretty
Well filled up already,” he said. a
tos SSAA

an’ with a few loads
Slate it can be shut off en-
tirely, more especiall
after the doors are
barred,”

“It is not from
that portion of the
Mine that I appre-

€nd any trouble.

Ok here,” and

tr. Wright
Spread on the
desk before

ma plan of
t © workings.

At this point
yOu can see

tat an old
drift runs par-
allel with, and
Rot more than
three yards

 

 
   

Ai) |
js 1}
Uf |
TEA | |

iY

 
   
   
      
 
 
   
  

not till the business of the riot
has blown over.”

“T’ll look to it that they
haven’t a chance to do
much harm,” Fred
replied, laughingly,
as he passed on to
learn the. first
duties of a
miner.

Joe, Bill, and
Sam’ accom-
panied Fred
to his new
working
place, and the
former said
as they were
being let
down. the in-
cline:

“T hear Bil-
lings swears
he won’t
leave town.”

 

 

 

 

 

fron 1 1, re : Ny t\ i ‘ i | i Hy 5 6
aga lovrer VUES a 1/2 ey “I passed
Sch ag veins Gm \ Y/, him on my
topeth ly Reon > Wf way home
er ar- SKY last night,”
er on.” Vy i
ae UY Bill added,
t ouldn’t and he
oe a man ty warned me
Work ppg to agin keepin’
S way Ae Ss
thro 3 y Tae Sam as my
8a i qe pane eM i Ve; te KLM hy butt 7 ”
tively? “°° Ef ‘He save’
vely. Cds “He says he
k And not = ~~ is a spy, hand
howing where ‘

SS
SS

=

attempt
May be toads,
it will be very
Ifficult to
Prevent mis-
Chief,”
“Unless the
old Shaft
Should be
Suarded.”
w To do that
ob Should be
liged to
Station men
uirely around
eal works, for
oP is the
se @ndoned
Ope, and far-
the
t two or
ce places
t ere an en-
ance could be
nected.”
Sut Billings
&n’ his crowd

On’t ;
this, know all

 

SSS

in glove with
you, an’ that
all who work
with them as
give infor-
mation to the
bosses will
CB2D8.; 79
rough.”

Bill Thomas
laughed as he
said this; but
J oe looked
serious.

“T don’t like
this way of
working.
The lower
level is bad
enough with-
out thinkin’
all the time
that some-
body is tryin’
to doa fellow
up.”

“ Nonsense.
Barkin’ dogs
don’t often
bite, an’ so

 

 

 

 

“Possibly
mt ; yet there
old Many of the

er men who
“ould tell the
Story,”

nedoe shook his

 

he may blow, an’ it won't

 

im per- be many days before we’ll
Plexity, ' =i show what’s what.”

I'am _ not “There’s little | chance

aatranted in hiring a large force of men |for us the way things look now,” one of

Suards,” Mr. Wright continued, “and | the party said, with a laugh.
© must do that from the inside. You tlow do you know? The folks round
shay] vhomas, with these boys as helpers, here have seen what I can do, an’ they’ll
take Care none but true men are near by.”
«OW will that mend matters?”
that four are to act as sentinels. It : : )
akes little difference how many loads his bold words, and in doing so chanced
°U take out, for the company will pay to see Skip, who immediately made a
: | series of what he intended should be mys-

ay wages,”
ven then I don’t see how we can do, terious gestures. : -
¥, matter with you?” the
Ou_and Thomas must form some’ man asked, angrily; but instead of reply-

“

fight left.”

®nything, “What’s the

Plan, Study this map, and I am confident ing Skip placed his finger on his lips and |

You will hit upon a scheme.” quickly left the room.

cho. there any chance that the drift’s| It was several moments before the leader
‘oked with gas?” understood he was wanted, and when this

Very little.” fact dawned upon him _ he followed, meet-
aaloe was thoroughly parsled, and after} ing the boy a few yards from the entrance.
8 ral moments of silence Mr. Wright| “Was you cuttin’ up _them monkey
Ald : shines for me?” he asked, in a surly tone.
th Get your supper now, and then talk| “Of course.” i.

e matter over with Thomas.” “Well, what’s wanted? .
this intimation that the interview “You jest said as how you’d like to get
at an end, the miner left the office ' square with the company.”

as
followed by the two boys, and when they| “S’posen I did? Does that concern you?”

‘6 you FOUR ARE “TO ACT AS SENTINELS,”

    

  

| after everything is ready, both the breaker |
work on the lower level, and I will soon find out that there’s a good deal of | boss an’ this new feller shall be where

As he said this Billings looked first at |
one and then another to note the effect of | ingly proud that the
him to participate in the plot, and prom- | CE “4
| ised, without the least show of hesitation, | for suspicious sounds,

 

long as we
know he
means mis-
chief there
ain’t much
in detail all he had heard while hiding in| chance of trouble. The thing to be fig ered
the store, Billings listening with closest | out is, how’re we goin’ to fix this job?
attention. Again the two men discussed the situa-
“That’s the best piece of news I’ve heard | tion, walking along the drift. with the
for a year, my boy,” the latter said, “an’| plans before them, while the boys were
you sha’n't be the loser by tellin’ me. If} forced to be content with listening to the
you've g > nerve o a little work | conversation.
tet everyting fe vealty, both thet - It waa finally decided that they should
work here and there along the entire cut,
they can’t help themselves.” | trusting that it would be possible to hear
The leader of the regulators felt exceed-|if any one began to dig on the opposite
rioter should ask | side. ne a ;
| “Tt’s a case of keepin’ quiet an’ listenin’
Bill said. “We
thing which might be required | won’t try to get out coal to-day, an’, per-
of a : F |haps, by night Mr. Wright will have a
“How long before you’ll be ready?” he better plan.” | ie ST aes
asked. _ | By watchin’ Billings we could get
“Tt may be a week: but you drop in/some kind of an idea as to when he was
here for a minute every evenin’ so’s I can | likely to begin operations.”
talk about the thing if the plans don’t; “Donovan promised to see to that part
work. There’s no use tobe in a hurry | of it.” ; ; ;
over sich a job as this.” f “Then we'll kinder lay ‘round till we
“T’ll show up reg’lar,” Skip cried, glee-| get the hang of the place. You boys go
fully, and, then as Billings re-entered the on to the end of the drift an’ come back.
groggery, he hurried away to tell the good | Don’t make any noise.” f
news to some of his chums. | The forenoon was spent in what was
During this plotting Joe Brace and Bill} little more than patrol duty, and when
Thomas were at Fred’s home discussing! Mr. Wright came below he approved of
the best means of following Mr. Wright’s| their plans. Nothing better was sug-
instructions. The plan of the works was | gested, and until night-fall all four paced

SAID THE SUPERINTENDENT. ‘STUDY. THIS MAP AND

YOU WILL HIT UPON A SCHEME.”

  

 

 
     
    
   
   
   
     
  
  
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
    
   
  
  
    
    
  
  
 
   
   
     
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
  
      
  
   
   
    
 
  
   
    
   
   
   
   
    
     
     
        
  
    
    
  
    
    
         
     
     
     
     
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
    
   
    

 

 

 

202

 

POS ID

NEWS.

 

to and fro, the other miners having been
withdrawn from the drift.

When evening came Skip did not wait
to see if Fred came out; but hurried off to
the groggery where he was made happy
by Billings’ extreme friendliness.

The leader of the mob arose immediately |

upon seeing him, and led the way outside,

saying when they were some distance from | g
|“It wouldn’t take long to cut through

the building:

“T’ve been thinkin’ over what you told
me, an’ amcertain we can work this thing
all right.” .

“When?”

“In a day or two. If you could manage
to get hold of that paper the job might be

done in a jiffy.
“But Joe an’ Bill have got it.”
“S’posen they have. A smart lad like
you oughter find some way to get at it,
an’ it would be worth your while to try.”
“Tt couldn’t be done.”
“P’raps not by you; but I know of
some, no older than you, who’d have it
before morning. Of course I don’t blame

a boy for not tryin’ when he hasn’t the!

 

nerve

“See here,” Skip cried, impatiently,
“haven’t I showed grit enough to do most
anything?”

 

plied, gravely. “It’s better to have half a
dozen of us nosin’ around for a week or
two, than run the risk of what Cale an’
his friends may do.”

“Oh, I ain’t kickin’; but it don’t seem
reasonable they could get into the old
drift, for it must be choked with gas.”

“By findin’ that out we might save aj}

good deal of work,” Joe replied, quickly.

where the wall is thinnest.”

“You’re right, mate, an’ we’ll get at it
now. Boys, go over to the blacksmith’s
for four shovels,” Bill added, as he pulled
the plans from his pocket.

Sam and Fred obeyed, and while they
were absent the two men studied the
drawing for at least the hundreth time.

Save for those who were seated on a
block of coal poring over the paper, the
drift was deserted, and the one who had
secreted himself in the cutting ee silent-
ly forward until it was possible to see
what the miners were doing.

As a matter of course this party was
Skip Miller, and he said to himself, with
a chuckle of satisfaction:

“With all day before me it’ll be queer
if I can’t get what Billings wants.”

When Sam and Fred returned Bill had

“If you have, prove it by gettin’ hold of | decided at which point the excavation

that paper.” % s
“T can’t see what you want it for?

“Because it shows us all the levels. With |

it we can tell jest where to begin work.”

“T’ll make a try for it anyhow; but I
can’t figger any way to get at it.”

“Watch for a chance. They won’t keep
it in their hands all the time, and, by
knockin’ off work now an’ then, loafin’
’round near where they are, you’ll soon
have your hands on it.”

“You won’t go back on me if I get into
trouble?”

“Don’t worry about that; L never shake
a friend.”

With this assurance Skip walked away
feeling very happy because of the manner
in which Billings spoke; but sadly per-
plexed as to the best course to accomplish
the desired end.

CHAPTER XII.’
A SINGULAR ACCIDENT.

“DNWO trustworthy men had been se-
‘ lected from the night shift to keep

guard on the lower level during the

time between sunset and sunrise,
and about an hour before the relieving
whistle sounded, not having heard any
suspicious noises, they lounged down to-
ward the slope where the miners were at
work.

Here, paying but little attention to
what was going on around them, they
conversed with the laborers, or smoked
ye as black as their faces, in order to
while away the moments which must
elapse before the labor was ended.

Men were passing and re-passing on
every hand, and in the darkness no one
saw a small figure, in whose cap the lamp
was not lighted, run swiftly from the foot
of the slope up the drift where the sen-
tinels should have been.

On either side of the passage shallow cut-
tings had been made that the miners
might step aside to avoid the cars as they
were drawn to and fro. Into one of these
the figure with the unlighted cap glided,
and, crouching in the farthest corner was
screened from view unless a careful search
should be made.

When the day shift came on duty
Chunky reported to the breaker boss that
Skip Miller -could not come to work on
this day.

“Why not?” Donovan asked, sharply.

“*Cause he’s got to do somethin’ at
home. He told me to tell you.”

“When did you see him?”

“Last night.”

“Where?”

“Over by Taylor’s.”

“What were you doin’ at that grog-

shop?”

“Nothin’. I was jest walkin’ around,
an’ met him.”

“Look here, Chunky, it will be best for
you to keep away from that place. No
decent man or boy would go there, an’ I’d
be sorry to know you trained with the
regulators. I’ve got my eye on them fel-
lers, an’ when trade is dull they’ll be the
first to get their walkin’ papers.”

If father don’t care what I do, it ain’t
any business of yours; so long as I work
from whistle to whistle.”

“That’s very true; but I shall make it
my business to see what your father has
to say about it.”

This threat had the effect of checking
the almost insolent air Chunky had begun
to display, and he went to his place at the
chute very meekly.

While this brief conversation was being

-held Joe,and Bill, with. -their helpers
entered the lower level where the careless
sentinels reported matters as being quiet.
“We haven’t heard more’n a rat since
ou left,” one of them said. “I don’t
lieve Billings has got the nerve to try
any funny business, an’ in this case Mr.
Wright is more frightened than hurt.”
_ “That’s a good fault, matey,” Bill re-

 

 

should be made, and he said, designating
a spot hardly more than a dozen yards
from where Skip was hidden:

“Tf the plan is co’rect this oughter be
our place. We'll try it anyhow. You
boys tell one of the drivers to bring up a
car, for we don’t want to choke the drift
with dirt.”

Then Bill stuck his pick in the wall,
which was made up of earth and slate.
Skip, who sat directi opposite, had a full
view of all that was morek

When the car had -been brought into
position Bill told Sam and Fred to shovel
into it what he and’ Joe threw from the
cutting, and soon all four were working
industriously.

Before the time for “nooning” arrived it
became necessary to shore up the top of
the tunnel lest the mass of earth should
fall and bury the laborers, and when this
was done both the men entered the exca-
vation, which was now twelve feet in
length.

In this confined space the air was op-
pressively warm, and the miners threw
off their Yauare. leaving them in the drift
near the entrance.

Skip knew that in the pocket of the one
worn by Bill was the paper he had been
instructed to steal, and he watched eagerly
for an opportunity to creep up unobserved.

While Sam and Fred were at work it
was impossible to do this; but the car
had been nearly filled, and in a short time
it would be necessary to get another.

The men could no Latour throw the dirt
from where they were working to the en-
trance, and red had been ordered to
stand midway the cutting that he might
pass it on to Sam.

“T’ll run this car down, an’ get another
if you'll give me alift at starting it,”
Sam finally shouted, and Fred came out.

‘The ‘tel tng was sufficient to carry the
rude vehicle to the switches at the foot of
the slope after it was once set in motion,
and, using a crowbar as a lever, this was
soon accomplished.

Sam ran behind it a few paces, and then
clambered up to the brake where he could
control the movements of the heavy load.

Fred watched him until the tiny flame
in his cap was lost to view in the distance,
and then he returned to the tunnel, un-
conscious that Skip had glided from his
hiding-place to follow closely behind.

It was necessary the leader of the regu-
lators should work with the utmost celer-
ity, for if Fred turned he would distin-
guish the dark form even in the gloom,

Skip had already formed a plan.

He crept close behind the boy whom he
hated, until the latter entered the tunnel.
Then stooping he picked up the crowbar,
and raised it for a Sine. In this position
he waited until Fred was in the middle of
the tunnel clambering over the pile of
dirt to get at his shovel.

The time had come.

Swinging the heavy bar once around he
struck the bottom of the joist which sup-

orted the shoring over head, and the

1eavy timbers, put up insecurely because
they were to be used but temporarily, fell
with a crash.

The jar disturbed the earth at the top,
and large masses fell, completely filling
the entrance, burying alive those who
were on the inside.

“That settles them, I reckon,” Skip cried,
gleefully, as, mindful of the blinding dust,
1e sprang toward Bill’s blouse,

To find the plan of the mine was but the
work of a moment, and then, with the

recious document thrust in the bosom of
is shirt, he started at full speed toward
the entrance to the slope.

The crash of the timbers and earth was

y no means an unusual sound in the
mine, where heavy masses of coal were
constantly being detached by blasts, and
the leader of the regulators had good
reason to believe it would be unnoticed.
His only care was to avoid Sam, in case
he should return sooner than might be ex-

pected, and to this end he darted from
one cutting to another, until having
reached a point from which, at the proper
moment, he could gain the slope.

Here he remained partially screened
from view until
Sam was to send to the new cutting, had
passed on its way up the drift.

Now he listened intently, and in a few
moment: came the cry:

“A break! A break, and three
buried! Help on the lower level!”

Those who were near enough to hear
this appeal sent the alarm from drift to
drift up the slope, until the entire mine

men

| seemed to be ringing with the words:

“Help is needed on the lower level!”

In view of all that happened, together
with the knowledge that if any attack
was made by the Billings’ gang it would
be on the lower level, every workman ran
with all speed to the bottom of the slope,
and among the foremost was Mr. Wright.

“What has happened?” he asked of a
blacksmith, who was darting toward the
chamber in which the tools were stored.

“Bill Thomas, Joe Brace and a butty
are buried in a cutting the fools were
makin’ up there a piece.”

“Go back,” Mr. Wright cried to the
swarm of men which came down the slope
like a living stream. “Not more than
twelve can work to advantage, and we
have that number here.”

“But we want to do our share,” an old
miner replied.

“You shall have a chance if we do not
find them soon. It is not safe to have so
many here at once.”

All hands understood the reason for this
caution, and as the crowd turned to ascend
Skip Miller slipped from his hiding-place
and joined them. He did not fear detec-
tion while every one was in such a state
of excitement, and even if he should be
recognized it would be only natural for
him to have followed the men at the first
alarm.

It was necessary, however, that he
should avoid Donovan, and with the ut-
most caution he emerged from the slope,
running as fast as his legs would carry
him on reaching the open air.

Not until Taylor’s groggery was near at
hand did he slacken speed, and then, as-
suming as best he could an air of com-
posure, he opened the door cautiously to
peep in.

Cale Billings was the only customer,
and on seeing Skip, he cried:

“Come in, lad. I reckon you’re here to
see me.”

Struggling hard to prevent his heavy
breathing from being observed by the pro-
prietor, the leader of the regulators
entered, and whispered :

“There’s been an accident on the lower
level, an’ two or three shut in.”

“Explosion?”

“The top of the cuttin’ fell, an’ it won’t
be a easy job to dig ’em out.”

“Was you there?”

Skip nodded his head in a triumphant
manner.

“You’re alad after my own heart,” Bill-
ings said, approvingly, as he extended a
huge, grimmy hand for the boy to shake.
“It half the men here had your spunk
Wright wouldn’t have got the best of us so
easy. Did you fix.that thing I told you
about?”

Skip nodded his head, and again Bill-
ings shook his hand.

“That’s what I call business. Let’s
have it.”

The leader of the regulators was about
to draw the dearly earned document from
his pocket when the proprietor of the place
interfered.

“None of that,” he said, sharply.
“There’s somethin’ goin’ on what ain’t
straight, an’ I won’t have it in my shop.”

“Do you mean to go back on a friend?”
Billings asked in an injured tone.

“Not a bit of it; but the company are
lookin’ after you mighty sharp, Cale, an’
I don’t want to get in trouble. There’s
plenty room out of doors.”

“All right, the shop belongs to you; but
it may be the losin’ of a good customer,”
and Billings walked out with Skip close
at his heels.

“Now give me the paper.”

When the document was delivered the
man glanced at it to make sure it was the
one wanted, and then said in a fatherly
tone:

“I reckon you’ve fixed things to suit
yourself if the new breaker boy was in the
cuttin’ when the roof fell.”

“They’re diggin’ for him now; but I’m
goin to get the worst of this job.”

“Tow so?”

“Taylor will blow the whole thing, an’
then Wright ’11 know it was me,”

“Ain’t [ here to protect yer?”

“Yes: but——”

“Don’t worry, my son. Go into the
breaker as if nothin’ had happened.”

“I can’t, ‘cause I sent word I wouldn’t
come to-day.”

“Then keep out of sight till night, and
meet me on the railroad track after dark.
We'll have this job mighty nigh done be-
fore morning.”

 

Billings was walking toward the slope,
and not daring to follow him any farther,

 

the empty car, which |

 

Skip ran swiftly in the opposite direction
wondering where he could hide until
sunset. For the first time he began t0
fear the consequences of his cruel deed;
and the thought that the officers of the
law might soon be in search of him was

| by no means reassuring.
He sought the shelter of the thicket

farther up the hill where a view of the
slope coutd be had, and there he waited,
expecting each moment to see lifeless
bodies brought from the mine.

(LO BE CONTINUED.)
a

HIS OWN MASTER;

OR,

The Fortanes and Misfortines of Fred Wilder

By I. P. MILLER.

neni ~

(‘His OWN MASTER” was commenced in No. 4. Back =

numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

CHAPTER XX.
MURDER WILL OUT.
Fan

   
     

mud and water of the swamp, lay

“Us the dead body of a powerful maa,
one hand still grasping a pick-handle. His

face was beneath the surface, but his neck
was exposed, and shockingly lacerated. He
had been strangled’ by the dog. On_thé
edge of the terrace lay a second man—Mat
Sawyer; he too was dead. Beneath him
was a small bull’s-eye dark lantern, aD
by his side a revolver, one chamber ®
which was empty; it had been cocked for
a second discharge, and probably droppe
by him when he received his death woul
—a pistol-shot.

The man who had been killed in the

swamp was brought up and laid by Mat —
Sawyer, and proved to be his mate, Tom

Wilkins. The detectives, after listening
attentively to my detailed account of the
affair, asking me many questions, al
carefully examining the ground, concluded
that Wilkins must have been throttle
by the dog while he was standing near the
edge of the cliff, ready to knock on the
head any one who should come up the
narrow pass; that he and his assailant
had tumbled over the cliff into the swath

where the man had been partly suffocate@

by the mud, and partly strangled by the
dog’s grip of his throat; that the shot 02
the terrace had been fired at the dog bY
Mat Sawyer, and that he was stooping
forward for a better aim on a second tria};
when he was hit by my bullet and fe

dead, extinguishing ‘his lantern beneat

him as he fell. The direction of_ bi§
wound proved that he had been much bent
toward me when he was struck; f0F
though his head must have been fully si
teen feet above where I stood when I fired
the bullet had grazed his eyebrow, enterée

his right eye at the inner angle, at

passed out at the back of his head clos?

to his neck. Death had been instantane ~

ous.
I had slain a human being; but I felt
neither regret nor remorse. He had tried.
I firmly believed, to take, my life; aD
had lost his own in the attempt. But for
the dog, I should have biundered up the
steep pass till was where the two me?
went me tobe; then a flash from the
lantern—and while dazed and startled bY
the light, a blow from the pick-handle !®
the hands. of Tom Wilkins would have
quickly settled all my accounts. I fel
more pleased than anything that their
plans had so widely miscarried. t
“Wild,” said the detective, pushing Ma
Sawyer with his foot, “there’s the mul
derer of John ener: and it’s more thay
likely that that other carrion there le?

him a hand. I was going to have €

both, to-day, alive or dead—well, I’ve 89

"em, dead. There’s more in the gaDe
though, and I want them, too. I’ll hav®
’em yet. *Tisn’t much wonder that Saw
yer was so willing to direct suspicion to-
ward you, or anybody else. He didn’t cane
where folks looked, so long as they didD
look at him. But he’s cooked now—JU®
as well. Here—turn over the moss hers
and roll these carcasses out of sight til
we've time to bury ’em,” he continued,
the police. This was soon done, an
set out for the gully camp, the offices
taking along the pick-handle and pist0%
the lantern, and various articles found 0
the bodies. Asking the detective if I we
to consider myself under arrest, I receiV@
for reply: ot
“Under arrest be hanged! No, I’ve 22
fresh instructions lately from the commis
sioners, and I’ve got fresh powers, to0-
may want you—shall want you, in fac n
to give evidence at the Grey courts, whe
I get some fellows there that I desit@
You and your mate will both havé
come; but you’ve had enough of bei®
knocked round in this gully—you’re 2°
arrested, and won’t be, by me,
What in thunder’s the that

t—

X

% T the foot of the cliff, here about
2 ten feet high, half-buried in the~

either —
ter with the

 

rete

= igi 3
~~

at
a

=

 

tq, 0
oe to a
‘ Mi fe cl

a il

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GooDpD

 

 

     

NEWS.

203

 

  

inti 4 Sogt He’s a pretty-looking critter, any-
n tO sae » JUSt now |”
leed, | Ch . last question was occasioned by
f they oj, S$ actions, which seemed rather
was ip pe enough. He had trotted on be-
a hy “S When we left the spot where we
cket ban gyucealed (it could not be called
the tit he Mat Sawyer and Tom Wilkins;
ited, itg on had shortly joined us again, com-
eless of lt of the bushes and trees on one side

lim to the place we had but just

‘3 t the time the detective spoke, the
bai. Placed himself directly across our
May,’ ut we made him get out of the
bag ou kept on; the dog then trotted
#,. "ard the swamp, halting to look

e, and now he seemed anxious

i Several times, and whining; but
3 mag that no one would bother with
‘ the fe € at last broke out into a run down
ilder dina a> an disappeared. Soon a most
ie howl came to our ears, and was
an again and again. I was a little
Hoyed at his actions, having just
te asting largely of his intelligence;
peck om eC. roared out at him:
2 jie » Charcoal, here, here; you con-

ae He

Ool, what are you yelping about
i there’ Come along, sir—here, here.”

“Tl dressing my companions, I went
Soy.’ 9 back to where those men are
Fitting, Ay, that’s where he is. He
bout — | now c isn’t all right, and that we don’t

the “41g, But—I say, hold on a bit, till
, lay aek and get him—the fool.”
nan, his aprned to go back,-Charcoal made
His i, PPearance once more; and calling
neck te as Icaught him, made a strap

He “at 18 collar, and led him along in
. the d tony? &prisoner. I was soon engaged

Mat ‘tsation with the detective once
him On gh, And the dog, giving a sudden jerk
and 1 at Strap, — it from my hand and
r of 4 Tan bac

nti down the hill, paying no
1 for am tenon to my angry command tae len
pped | Ser hi ack, and dragging the long strap
und ~~) Wei ™- When satisfied that he was

|
wi “ar, he faced us once more, favored
'th an

_ the then &e other long wailing howl, and
Mat » lg ea epered out of sight, with droop-
Tom i doo 224 tail, looking the very picture
ning Sigh Bed obstinacy. The policemen
the detent heartily at my disgust; but the
and “Look Observed to me:

ded Phat he here, Wild, that dog knows
tled to know ants, and, by thunder, I’m goin

: the Pt,” What it is. Sit down here and

the @ tir ae fe tired enough—and I'll send
_ the atten Wy men back to see what’s the
jJant at See Ohes, you and Metcalf go back
mp: jpn What he’s making all this row

ated | “0p ay We'll wait for you here. Bring the
the Talon When you come back.” "

yt on yea; © policemen did as they were di-
g¢ by Win, 24 we knew, when Charcoal’s
ping wiki tras exchanged for a satisfied
rial, Ning th hat they had. arrived where he
fell +9 he an n all was quiet for a few min-
eath ! onetgh thenen a shrill whistle sounded

© wood, from the direction the
bent relies aad taken.

Minin ‘stle put the detective and the
ay * Pest Officers (we had all sat down
ire } tay tswe On their feet in an intant, and

d Mig "ting whistle was at once re-

ie ’
‘Jose mltek « © found something, Wild—we’ll

    
   
 

 

ane- WS tg,” see what ’tis. That whistle
Tay! Were Said the detective.
felt Ty NOt | Soon on our way. down the hill,
-jed the’ haq ns In reaching the other officers.
an Ti log een guided by the howling of
t for net th ahuge uprooted tree near the
the Pi; a cliff, and not far from the spot
men Co Ag yet and his mate lost their

, the Te hey approached, the dog had
d by i se figging in the hole which had
ie iD They “Vert the hillside by the roots of
nave Ue, Each Town tree; and when the two
felt hoy "ere €d him, they found that he had
eit tha of i, man’s boot. One of them took
7 thy) 8 2nd having satisfied himself

Mab J wyrltat Ot and leg were still encased in
nur’ “re fe, he blew his whistle, and then
shan beg llog the detective to arrive.

Jent “sh Yo, another murder!” said the de-

land's S00n as he saw the boot;
Wonder if there’s lots 0’ men

ang | Te dod here—those fellows have
ig -Oin, : . : re
nave No ; Wag : a big business in their line.
aw Jug tOuh Nice place to put a dead ’un—
1 to- th, laiqg 0 bury him at all. They’ve

care G a And him close in to the root of this
an't' 3 Mi to knocked off a lot of hanging

just Se i @, of him. Nice and easy, no
ere 1 "hoy We jet out with him, boys; let’s
til FA yw; 42°W who he is.” We had no

1,t0 =F, t, and ao) but the burial had been
; Va € earth was soon scraped

a
°
“

  

 

   

 
 
      
   

 
 
 

cers Wy tive 72° body exposed to view. The
tol, | Me td eg ooked at the features, picked
1oD | Nig banga@ined the right hand (which
was *1Pone) Sed, and from which a finger
ived te ; jand then remarked :

7 ey thon PY, Harry—one o’ their
got 9 Ry to Grey Usht ’twas queer he hadn't
mis. 5 v? abo Month, for I knew he left the
. ‘ptea hi the middle of last week. I
ct _ aa rit for 1; and have had men on the
hen TF ietin ab im—~but they couldn’t tell me
sire. Bate ® Out him; no wonder. Look
e to hina 8 smashed in; that pick-

eiD, 4 ho}

~What’s this ?” he continued,

  
   

’ d 4 t orate
po ; bogo of a knife which was sticking
her FM th 2™, and attempting to draw it
‘the. ui Going which he broke off the

  

®aving the blade in the body; “by

-

 

a ak >

 

the Holy Smoke, that’s Jack Hurley’s
knife—J. H. stands for John Hurley, as
well as for Jo Henny (that’s Happy
Harry’s name) ; and this name, Hunting-
ton, cut on t’other side of the handle, is
the name of Hurley’s birthplace in Can-
ada; Happy Harry isacockney. Let’ssee;
who was it had th

murder? I have it—and I’ll have him,
too, before he’s many hours older. Roll
the fellow into that hole again, men, and
knock down some more of that dirt off
the the roots of the tree on top of him;
that’s the way he was buried before—good
enough for him; too; but I suppose we
shall have to sink him deeper some other
day—can’t stop for it now, anyway. Roll
him in, roll him in.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt,” is an
old adage; and it holds true in many
cases. Six months before this time, the
discovery of a dead body in the woods
would have made me half insane. But
the night in a manuka swamp, and the
fight with unknown enemies in the dark-
ness and mud, had hardened my feelings
and steadied my nerves, so that the sight
of the two victims of the conflict had
awakened within me only a sense of ex-
ultation at my success; and now I viewed
the resurrection and rude _ reinterment of
the body of a man whom I had known in
life but afew days before, with no more
emotion than was evinced by the detective
himself; the discovery of a dead dog
would have had as much effect upon me.
Perhaps physical weariness had some-
thing to do with my apathy, for I was
about worn out; but I was certainly be-
coming familiarized with scenes of vio-
lence and deeds of evil, and regarded
them very lightly indeed, in comparison
to what had formerly done. I do not
wonder at the fact that men who are con-
stantly studying crime often commit it
themselves; and I feel the full force of a
verse which I used to parse (I preferred to
“pass” it, when bbésible, for I hated gram-
mar), at school, and which I quote from
memory :

* Vice is a monster of such frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
But seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure—then pity—then embrace.”}

The body of Happy Harry was covered
with earth from the root of the prostrate
tree, and we again took up our route over
the terrace to Candlelight. This time we
succeeded in reaching the gully; and after
drinking a pannikin of strong coffee, with
a stick (alias a glass of rum) in it, at the
camp, I laid down in the inner room of

at knife, after Hurley’s |

have already taken up too much time in
|relating the doings of Candlelight Gully,

ito have room for an extended account of |

| his disclosures; but those doings had an
| intimate bearing on the happiness of some
of my friends in after days, as will be
seen by the reader who has patience to
follow my story to the end, and I could
not well be more brief in my account of
them.

Salter acknowledged that seventeen mur-
ders had been committed in and near Can-
dlelight, by the three men whose bodies
were at that time hidden at the foot of
the terrace, near the manuka swamp.
{From the wild rumors and stories flying

murders was nearer a hundred; but seven-
teen was the actual count, as near as

said, nor had his brother the “judge,”
who indeed knew nothing about them at
all. John Hurley had been struck with a

Harry, while be and Mat Sawyer were
talking with him, on the night of his
death. He was killed because his guilty
mates feared that he suspected them, and
they dared not trust the rough Canadian
with their secrets—his gold was not the
object of the outrage. The nugget which
had first directed the detective’s suspicions
toward Red Joe, Hurley had sold to Mat
Sawyer a day or two before the former
was killed; and Sawyer had sold it to

reader already knows that I was the
ene So a legitimate transaction
1ad ultimately resulted in the destruction
of the whole gang.

oot Matthews had been killed for his
gold; but the assassins were disappointed,
for only a few shillings were found in his
tent; his gold had been hidden by him,
robably outside the tent; they did not
Bnd it, at any rate. He was choked until
insensible, and then thrown into the wet
hole. Red Joe had recognized Mat Saw-
er as an “old lag,” and been recognized
oy Sawyer as one; they had known each
other in former days. Sawyer had cauti-
ously sounded Joe, to see if he was “safe ;”
but Joe had plainly intimated to him that
he suspected him of being concerned in
the villanies which were taking place in
the gully, and that he wanted no inter-
course with him atall. The gang had
agreed that Red Joe was dangerous to
their safety while he lived, and that he
|had better be put out of the way. But

though several attempts were made to do

 

about, I had imagined that the number of |
could ever be ascertained.] He had taken |

no active part in any of them himself, he |

| stone in the toe of a stocking, by Happy |

some one, Salter could not tell who. [The |

 

|

|

 

the frightful wound he had received from
Red Joe’s hatchet, he escaped with one
year’s imprisonment, with hard labor.
Hight or ten of the other principal rioters
received terms of imprisonment, varying
from one to five years in length. Salter
was tried, convicted on his own confes-
sion, and sentenced to be hung; but he
cheated the gallows by strangling himself
in his cell in Hokitika jail. He ac-
knowledged, after his conviction, that he
had taken as active a part as his com-
panions in the murders in Candlelight
Gully.

Among “the crowd of diggers who ac-
companied the officers on their return
from arresting Salty Jack, was my mate
Jake, and a round hundred of the Tips,
headed by the redoubtable Jimmy the
Kaka. I had not been missed by the
drunken rascals, when I went back for
the billy, and Jake knew nothing of
my absence till morning. As soon as he
found I had not returned he went to Red-
mond, who at once collected a crowd of
his worthy friends, and started out to find
me, or to take summary vengeance on
some one if I had been injured, Jake, of
course, keeping them company. The de-
tective had seen Jake, and told him that
I was safe; and the law-upholding Tips
had followed the posse to the camp. I
was greeted by them with much warmth,

|and Redmond loudly boasted :

“Be the powers, ’tis himself can do it,
only show him the thrifle o’ fair play;
he’s the able man tor a dozen o’ the likes
’o thim divils, only give him a chance.”

I felt flattered by Jimmy the Kaka’s
commendation, but didn’t desire to try
my ability against a “dozen. o’ thim
divils,” no matter what chance might be
offered me. Jake and I decided to remain
at the camp, and go to Greymouth with
the escort that took down the prisoner
Salter; though, now that the murderous
gang was probably completely broken up,
we could have remained in the gully in
safety, or have left it without danger.
But we had had enough of gold-digging
for the time, and were bound to leave it;
and I needed a few days’ rest. Toward
night the Tips started back up the gully,
half drunk, of course, and yelling like
demons; I. don’t know that I have ever
met with one of that crowd since. They
were a rough set, certainly; ignorant,
brutal, lawless. But they treated me well,
and I remember them with friendly feel-
ings. There is much good material among
the “Tips,” if it can only be utilized; but
I don’t know how that is to be done, un-

|that job, the presence of Charcoal, and | less it is by education. Not one in twent

the building, and was soon in a sound | our vigilant watch at the tent, prevented | of them that I have met can read an
it from being carried out. When he was | write.

sleep. The gully police were there, and
we found them beginning to get uneasy at
the non-arrival of the Mohective and his
party, who were nearly two hours behind
their time. But the occurrences of the
night and morning were told them, and
the whole body prepared for a raid up the
gully after one particular man, who was
already known to the regular gully police
force and to me. One officer only remained
at the camp, which was closed and the
door barred on the inside; and as I have
before stated, I laid down and slept in
peace. Charcoal did likewise; and when
we awoke it was afternoon, and the armed
expedition had returned, bringing with
them their man, and followed by an im-
mense concourse of excited diggers. But
notwithstanding the excitement conse-

uent on the arrest of the man by such a
formidable force, and that the police freely
gave out that he was more than suspected

of being one of the gang who had so long |

kept the whole gully in terror, there was
no attempt at lynch law; the men who
had been most active at the former riot
(Mat Sawyer and Tom Wilkins) were
safe; the “judge” was still lying in a pre-
earious condition; and the six revolving
rifles were no playthings to face, when
held by determined men.

Stiff, sore, and tired, I crawled from
the blankets, when I was awakened by
the noise made by the entrance of the
officers and the prisoner to the camp; no
spectators were allowed to enter. The
risoner was one Jackson Salter, known
in the gully as “Salty Jack,” a brother of
the impartial judge whose face Red Joe
had battered with the tomahawk, and a
mate of Billy Matthews, the murdered
man-o’-war’s man, who had been found in
the wet prospecting-hole. The detective
and the two sergeants of police (the one
regularly stationed at the gully, and the
one ~—s charge of the reinforcements
which had just arrived) came into the
inner room, where I was, and the prisoner
brought before them. The detective cau-
tioned him that any answers he might
give to questions put would be used
against him before the regular courts,
and that he might answer or not, as he
pleased. [This the officer was_ obliged to
tell him by the colonial Jaws.]. He was
then interrogated closely; and after being
informed that both Mat Sawyer and Tom
Wilkins had recently been slain, and that
Happy Harry had been murdered several
days before, he apparently made a clean
breast of it, and confessed all he knew of
the doings of the nefarious gang. The
substance of his confession I will give. I

| arrested by the officers, the ery of “Lynch
| the murder!” was raised by the real cul-
| prit, who feared above almost everything
|else to have Joe examined before the de-
tective; as in that case, suspicion was
isure to be directed toward them. Their
| plan had succeeded, and Red Joe was now

|denounced, The appearance of the Tips
jhad partially balked their scheme, for
| they wanted Jake and me quieted, as well
|as Red Joe; they feared he had warned us

 

Jake and I remained at the camp two
days, and on the third started for Grey
township, in company with four of the
police riflemen, who were taking Salty

| Jack down to prison. We arrived at the

| put out of the way without their being |

| of them, or at least made known to us his |

| Suspicions.

appy Harry had quarreled with Saw-
|yer, and started for Greymouth, vowing
| vengeance against him. His murder
| Salty Jack knew nothing about; if Saw-
| yer and Wilkins had killed him, they had
cept the fact to themselves. Hurley’s
| knife, which had been found in Happy
Harry’s body, Salter had lost a week or
| two before, and he knew nothing of where
| it had gone. This was the substance of
| what was gleaned from Salter by the
i skillful questioning of the detective.
| The result of the inquiry was made
| known to the assembled miners, and they
were also told of the death of Sawyer,
Wilkins and Happy Harry; and a party
|of volunteers, under the guidance of an
| officer, started over the terrace to bring
|in the bodies of the three ruffians. The
announcement that Red Joe was wholly
|innocent of the crimes for which he had
| been hunted to death, seemed to have con-
| siderable effect upon the crowd; and some
of the “jury” that condemned him (and
Jake: and myself as well), who were in
| the assemblage, slunk away like whipped
curs. The miners generally did not seem
pleased when the detective told them
that they had been led by the nose to per-
secute and murder honest men, by the
very scoundrels who had spread terror
ee the entire population of Candle-
ight.

I am about done with this record of
violence and crime. The dead bodies of
the three wretches were brought into the
gully, a formal inquest held on them by
the police, and they were then laid in a
deserted prospecting hole and covered
with sand and stones; four stakes marked
their graves, The “judge” was too ill to
be moved, or he would have been then ar-
rested; and I may as well state here that
he was afterward taken before the courts,
and acquitted of any complicity with the
murderous gang, but convicted of riot,
and with resisting the police in the ex.
ecution of their duty. In consideration of

 

 

 

 

 

coast all right, and were provided with
comfortable quarters by the authorities,
who wanted us as witnesses against the
men implicated in the recent doings in
Candlelight. We were detained for about
five weeks, but at length were free to go
where we chose. No regular official
notice was taken of the swamp fight be-
tween the two bushrangers and Charcoal
and I, beyond a formal coroner’s inquest,
at which the detective told his story, and
a verdict of “justifiable homicide” was
recorded.

The evening after Salter’s trial and con-
vicition, the detective visited us at our
boarding-house, and bade us good-by; he
was to return to Candlelight Gully next

|morning, and Jake and I intended to

start for Hokitika. As the detective was
leaving he handed me a copy of the Otago
Daily Times, remarking: “Here’s a late
Otago paper, Mr. Wild; you may find
something in it to interest you. I’ve read

After he had gone I read the paper
pretty much all through; there was noth-
ing of any particular interest in it, and I
was about laying it down when an adver-
tisement attracted my attention. It read
as follows:

“PEREMPTORY SALE OF VALUABLE RAL ESTATE
AT AUCTION.—Messrs. McLandress, Hepburn & Co.,
under instructions received from Australia, will
on Saturday, J— 23, 186-, offer for sale at Public
Auction, at their Stock and Station Salesrooms,
Princes street, Danedin, the valuable and exten-
sive property known as Kyeburn Station, situated
in the Shag Valley District, containing 40,000 acres
of land, more or less, with natural river and moun-
tain boundaries, and with thirty acres under cul-
tivation at. the Home Station; huts, woodsheds,
ete., complete and in fine order. Said stationds
stocked with six thousand mixed Merino sheep,
and is capable of carrying fully ten thousand; the
stock will be sold at the same date, in lots to suit
purchasers.

“N. B, This sale is bona fide, and offers a rare
chance for investment, as there is positively no re-
serve. TERMS CASH.

“DANEDIN, J— 6, 186-.”

“Halloo, Jake!”. said I; “here’s some-
thing. The Kyeburn Station is offered for
sale at auction. Wonder. what's up?
Hope Wilson is settling up his affairs,
for I’ve got private reasons of my own for
wanting him to do so, By Jingo, Jake, I
haven’t written to Wilson, or home, since
we left Hokitika! I shall catch it, I

   
    
      
            
        
           
        
     
 
        
       
   
  
  
 
      
 
   
 
  
   
    
  
  
  
 
    
   
  
 
  
  
    
   
    
   
  
  
      
     
 
 
   
   
  
    
 
 
  
  
   
   
    
   
   
   
    
   
    
 
  
        
     
 

 

  
        
       
    
   
     
    
     
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
   
  
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  

‘ 204 ™

GooDp

 

   

NEWS.

    

 

know. Well, we’ll start for Hokitika in
the morning, and get across to Australia
as soon as we can.”

“That’s so,” said Jake; “I’ve had just
about as much of New Zealand as I want
at present. The sooner we get out of it the
better I’ll be pleased. Now let’s turn in,
and make an early start for Hokitika.”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

—_—_—__~+- 0»

anol D TE “CAMP
Z

cy
iG

BY HARRY HORR.

  

angele

THE TENTH SPARK.

THE CHINESE QUESTION AND CELESTIAL
: LITERATURE.

OP LEE was in camp. He was

cook for a party of tourists who
were camped near by. Hop had
taken a skip and jump over to the
boy’s fire, several of whom he was person-
ally acquainted with, having acted as
their brevet laundress in many of Mon-
tana’s mining camps. He brought with
him a goodly collection of specimens he
had — up along the trail, nine-tenths
of them being utterly worthless. The
flour sack containing them was emptied
of its contents while the proud celestial
stood over them as the fun-loving circle
went into mock ecstasies over his garnered
stores of worthless rocks.

“I suppose you will send these to the
Emperor of China,” suggested Gentleman
George. With a shake of the head and a
shrewd gleam in his biased eyes, he re-
sponded :

“Me too heapy smart. Emperor China
say, ‘Hop, gitty heapy more,’ and he no
givey me slix bits. Me tell him me gott
alle splecimen in Melica, and kill two
Melican man to get the last. Then he
will alle the same tell China sheriff. ‘You
takey Hop out to woodpile and choppy his
smarty half Melican head off.’ That’s the
kind of a belly bad man he am.”

“Well, what are you going to do with
them, then?” asked Rusting Tom.

“Me takey them and sell to big Melican
man.”

“They won’t pay you much for these,
will they?” queried Geyser George.

“Oh, yes. I telly them this splecimen
come from way heap off up Wind River,
and it cost sleventy-five dollars to takey
him out. Then I say, you takey him long
alle same five dollar, for me must close
out stockey, and go to see my belly poor
sick mother in Hong Kong. Then this
splecimen I tell them alle the way from
big Injun camp. Then me getty my blud-
der Sam to telly them me kille a big
Sioux to getty it, and then me say, oh,
me want to goto my poor old mother
belly bad, so you glab him ’long for two
dollars. You sabe?”

“Why, you’ve got quiet a business head
on you,” remarked Quiet Jim.

“Yes, since me saw you me cooky for
heap big miner man, and now me way
ae .

“When you start your museum of curi-
osities,” added Gentleman George, “we
will cheerfully add to your collection vari-
ous articles of bric-a-brac.”

“Oh, no, no. Me no seers When me
in San Francisco me getty alle time blicky
bat. Ebly hoodlum come long say, ‘Hi,
= ee and then I catchey blicky
bat long side head. Then belly soon
nother hoodlum say, ‘You catchey this on
the fly, John,’ and then a blicky bat go
on ear and makey heap big headache. Me
sabe blicky bat. Me no likee him. Me
no wante him. You hear me?”

But despite his repugnance to brickbats
he cheerfully accepted from the noble and
generous-hearted ones of the circle a suffi-
ciency of articles of bric-a-brac to fill his
flour sack to overflowing. In justice to
the despised brickbats,it is but proper to
add that the most inferior of these was a
es toe ared at the Pea 80 gifts Sp:

wl op’s fiour sac is f
onors. P ack by his princely

As he went staggering from cam
his heavy load some of the boys gave waar
to sad regrets. They were sorry his sack
was not larger, as its limited capacity

 

was insufficient to attest their boundless|B d

generosity,

 

The departure of Hop of a _ necessity
brought about the Chinese question. The
only good opinion promulgated was that
of Happy Adam, who thus tossed it off:

“The fact. is, boys, the Eastern legisla-
tors don’t fully grab this subject. How-
ever, I will give them credit for being on
the right side. When they say _ the Chi-
nese should come they know what they
are talkiig about. Just go anywhere on
the Pacific slope and see the great good
done the country by their coming here.
What a relief it has been to the poor
laboring man. The almond-eyed, hemise-
tail gentry will work for a dollar a day
and grub themselves. In most place it
will cost a white man more than that for
actual expenses. How does it help the
white man? Why, you see he don’t have
to do any more hard work. He now has

lenty of leisure time to devote to dab-
bling in stocks, buying mines, railroads,
and steamers, or i can practice law,
preach to the boys, or dose them with cal-
omel and saw their legs off, and if nine-
tenths of his pride has leaked out then he
can run for Congress, and if he has
loosened his grip entirely on honor, then
the chances are that he will be elected.
Then again it will make tourists of many,
who will travel around the country sight-
seeing on foot, except when they can steal
a ride. Then it will help to fill the poor-
houses and cause others to be erected,
thus patronizing an institution which
would otherwise languish and go to decay.

“Then they help the poor female cooks
and washerwomen. ‘They take their
pace and it gives the females a show to
ook around and marry rich, or starve
But the best thing about the
Chinese business is this. We know that
money is the bedrock of all evil. That’s
what a great Washoe poet said some
years since, and I guess he knew what he
was talking about. Now what is hurting
this country is too much money. We are
all getting rich too fast. If we keep on,
after awhile we won’t be satisfied unless
we have diamonds on our buckskin hunt-
ing-shirts, and a silver barreled rifle, with
gold stock, pearl triggers, and diamond
sights. Now what is going to put a stop
to such extravagance? The Chinese.
Quietly they are hoarding the filthy lucre,
and as noiselessly they slide over to China
with their little fortunes, and does any of
it return?”

The boys all commenced to give their
opinions of the amount that came back to
our shores, which put an end to that par-
ticular oration.

“You can poke your sly fun at the Chi-
nese,” said Coffee-Pot Dick, “but I tell
you they are real smart literary critters.”

“Are you versed in their literature?”
asked Gentleman George.

“Well, I should just echo.”

“How did you come to gain a knowledge
of that difficult tongue?”

“T’ll tell you. I was in Helena on busi-
ness. I traveled just two hundred miles
expressly for the purpose of paying a
newspaper bill.” (Sarcastic comments by
the crowd.) “Called at the office, but the
editor was not in. He had been up the
night before at a political revival, and, of
course, asthe spirits had moved him
much, he needed some'rest. While I was
waiting for the paste-pot fiend I resolved
to improve the opportunity by diving into
and unlocking the beauties of Chinese lit-
erature. With that in view I grabbled
the editor’s note-book, and soon entered a
habitation where several celestial savants
were converting their mouths into brevet
sprinkling-pots. The artist nearest the
street door had a countenance strikingly
familiar. I thus orated at him:

“ ‘Most noble son of a gun—of Con-
fucius, I mean—I come hither to delve in
the myteries of thy heathen language. I
fain wouldst know much——’

“ ‘How muchee? You owey me two
dollar slix bittey.’

“ “This heathen,’ I soliloquized, ‘has
no eee above the paltry gains belong-
ing to his mercenary pursuit.’ I treated
him with disdain—very coolly—probably
because he was a cooley.

“T entered a second studio, and ejacu-
lated something after this style: ‘Most
noble Chin Wing Ling Fang, illustrious
descendant of a still more purse-proud
and contaminated ancestry——’ He was
just preparing his mouth to articulate
“Police!’ when I came down to, ’See here,
John, I ae come in the interests of
my benighted fellow-countrymen to Jearn
the literature of your heathenish lingo.
If you will spare a few moments from
your artistic labor of tearing off buttons,
and running the points of your flat-irons
through linen bosoms, and allow your
erudite memory to be taxed——’ That
anti-Kearneyite fairly blazed with anger.
‘You swindle Melican man! Me _ pay
taxey seven—eight times one month. Ebly
hoodlum comey ‘long say, “Come, John,
you pay taxey.” Me pay taxey. Last week
me no pay taxey, and hittey man ’long-
side head. The jail man glab me and

single.

takey me ’long to lockey up. Me pay
judgee, then me pay “oe * ast man he
elly good taxey man. e hittey him.

ad taxey man me no hittey. They all
hoodlums—all same you,’

 

“T left this heathen, as I did the other,
with feelings of pity for such samples of
cracked chinaware. Not to be baffled, I
procured a specimen of their chirography
incased in a fire-cracker envelope. The
celestials write in squares something sim-
ilar to the fifteen puzzle—only more so.
They write from right to left, or left to
right, as they choose, I suppose. A novice
can read their writing equally as well
from right to left, left to right, top to
bottom, bottom to top, slouchways, or
start in the center and read all around.
By either method the result attained is as
satisfactory as if he had not started in on
the contract. This, the earliest Chinese
writing my eagle glance ever encountered,
showed up as follows: The first square
exhibited a gridiron ee with a pair
of tongs. Near by a fractured Dutch oven
was waltzing with a cast-iron grasshop-
per, while a cricket was oe essaying
to elope with a demolished cooking-stove
fastened to his heel by a telegraph pole.
Several other darker and smaller charac-
ters were in view, intended to represent
imps of darkness, pertaining, no doubt, to
the well-known lines—‘Satan finds some
mischief still for first-class hands to do—
board and lodgings on the premises—
wages to be paid.’ But probably that
ain’t the way Mr. Watts started the song.

“The second square was a stunner.

“A tight-rope was stretched from the
N. E. corner of the first quarter of the
moon, with the opposite end hitched to
the beak of an American eagle located on
a nest in the center of an inky cloud. On
the rope an aged mule is dancing a break-
down, while the Goddess of Liberty is ex-
ecuting a jig on the other end. She holds
in one hand a soup tureen, a fishing spear
in the other, while the remaining ones are
wildly waved over her head in a paroxysm
of patriotism. You see, boys, the artist
didn’t want her moping around empty-
handed. Between the two, and located
astride the rope, was to be seen, in all his
venerable venerableness, the President of
the Ball-Headed Club calling the roll.
The members were responding to their
names. A vacant white spot below
showed where they stood. Nothing but
the tips of their craniums being visible
accounts for the uniform shining white-
ness. Still further below —— But, boys,
this is enough, more than sufficient to
satisfy the most skeptical and ardent of
my enemies, that I entered into this work
with ardor and zeal, determined to give
my contrymen a truthful account of my
literary researches in the celestial quarter.

“T was not fully satisfied that I had
culled all the sweets, so I handed the en-
tire article to that worthy and accom-
plished scholar, Tong Hi, for an additional
and much more literal translation. He
thus spoke: ‘Know, most illustrious bar-
barian of the North, that here the great
Confucius speaks, as he tosses off his

 

SAES ag ae

i Oe ca ger

18-karat maxims. Hearken. To the slow-
est_ trotter is not always given the race,
and I advise you fo first leap and do your
looking afterward, especially if the sheriff
is on your trail, oa oh my son, be vir-
tuous and snipe the nomination on the
winning ticket, and don’t go through
clean down to bed-rock betting against a
dark horse. Be always happy and you
ain’t apt to be much miserable. Hic,
haec in dry hoc. Erin go sic semper
Unum. 4, ll, 44. Yours till death. Over
the River Ta Ta. Confucius, sr., his
mark,’

“This translation did appear to be con-
fuciously like, and I took. it with grave
doubts, as I had no possible show of tak-
ing it with anything of greater value.
Boys, if I had, I would freely have be-
ueathed to you the doubts and retained
the qther to gild the way of an honorable
old age on its passage to the great smelt-
ing works.”

t verges on tautology, but the author
cannot refrain from observing that a rising
vote of thanks was then given standing
to the illustrious translator—the audience

    
   
   
 
  
   
  
    
   
   
  

    
  

               
         
          
     

 
 

       
    
     
      

  

          
        
        
      
 
     

    

     

  

    

  

    
     
       
    
   
 

 
 

 

    

  

     
     

   

       
      

  

     
       
       
      
     

rising, and standing Coffee-Pot Dick
his head. —————
—_—__+-¢-»__—_
1d
How Barnum Humbugged the Deato? SHE
Wife. ; WITH 4
(x27 HEN we were looking at the
Y¥\\fo trees in California,” said | vi Our can;
vo) T.-Barnum, in a chuckling) pouch
$ “we came to one that was ft c Gay ans
than any of the others. A pious lady © "itis try.
party, Mrs. Pearce—she used to live # Whether
cago—wanted it measured. She wy i renal st
most accurate woman I ever knew ea
word was gospel. Her husband was : a Wher
Pearce. Mrs. Pearce took a spool of a He pa
from her retieule and said to her bu pi Halt ie -
‘Put your thumb on one end of this qu he s:
and hold it while I walk around #e i meea ¢
with the spool and unreel the thread. a eeling
that way we will get the exact measalem, But the
so as to be able to show our friends tna his |
without exciting their credulity.’ 1 sil Ana i,”
‘TI always tried to be gallant, 8° NCE age
Tyra > . r , >
to Mrs, Pearce I would walk around #8 md and
for her, taking the spool of cote te our
measuring as I went. t But ok
‘No, sir,’ she replied, ‘I don’t baie Harnin
of your humbuggery in this measul® é cutee th
I want to get it accurate, I know J? And ne
well.’ ‘ Glaa ot
“She made the measurement, prok 7h bis ca.
the string and wrapped it carefully : b anktul
her first and second fingers, put it # Many a
reticule, and said: ‘There; when 2% waging
that and show it to our friends they," jy Where ¢
lieve.’ At the same time she looked ® 0 Thought
“We started back to the hotel 1 © ike the
friends. When we got there Mrs. P' eae Fi Ang ght
gan telling of the great trees. yy But, 120
took a little bundle of twine out of ner it ‘he w
cule and told them she would sboW & Sti that
the measurement she had takeD still Is be
The deacon was given oneend 0 the
and told to\walk until he had gone it wn S 7
He started around the room, which
large one. When he reached the doot
Pearce was still giving out string, , The
walked out of the door, out upon the Wors
and down the road until he gave oub opp
‘The people looked on with ami,
They had such a high regard for the, 3 Aut
city of the deacon’s wife they dide a hor
anything. When the deacon stores
rest his wife still had about 200 J z
string in her hand. She looked at cokS
I never betrayed any emotion. 1 thi tf N
thought I had stolen her measureme® UM
the reticule and put in my own. eral SWiIp
was as genial after that. And her ee
in the community wasn’t what it hac a
And they say I am a humbug,” chuc®"— mea]
old man as he walked away. a
asm ,
BOOKS FRE fiat }
da trud:
{PX OMMENCING with Goon NeW, fad
; ae June 12, 1890, we will pri2 i b
si’ on the first page for 12 © glad
issues. The coupons Wi, “y
bered from 1 to 12, and by send © gnaw
set complete, we will send you a Leen)
They are carefully selected storleS "a0
ular authors. They are bound 12

 

     
   

dO by,
lithograph covers, fully illustrated, op haut
) tain about 200 pages. They are all PY:
* American copyright stories.
Make Your Own Selechiag
THE YANKEE CHAMPION, by Sy] vanus wy
»
THE GOLDEN EAGLE, by Sylvanus OP”

THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO ABROAD; by i
Robertson, M, D.

THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO’S SEARCH,
Robertson, M. D,

HELD FOR RANSOM, by Lieut. murray:

AN IRISH MONTE CRISTO.

A CHASE ROUND THE WORLD,
Weir.

GOLD-DUST DARRELL, by Burke prentlo™ ig

BOB YOUNGER’S FATE, by Edwin ®: Me ’

THE REVENUE DETECTIVE, by Police?

      
      
       
   
 

 
 

        
       
     
     
     
    

py

 
   
     
    
     
     
    
        
    

 
 

    
 
      
    
   
  

 
  
 

   
 

    
       
         
     

  

     
   

  
 

  

       
    

  

     
    
    
 
  
  

    

  
 

&m,
James. stot ap. gy tha
i 7a Any ep
THE AMERICAN MARQUIS, by Nick bis mt Ythin
& »
A MYSTERIOUS CASE, by K. F. Hill a Wel
VAN, THE GOVERNMENT DETECTIVE) Iy\even Go re
” 0) 18 Shc
Sleuth. vy Phergy
BRUCE ANGELO, THE CITY pErEctTiv® Say ‘n,
Sleuth.” “Pend
3 pete any ti
BRANT ADAMS, THE EMPEROR OF and,
by “Old Sleuth. ott to

  

| «a0 b
i Ke ae.
Remember you get a copy of any? oat Be attain
name in the above list, by cutth er ging be
‘ sending us the twelve coupons woe hs Be
publish in Goop News for twel¥®

          
  

        

  

 

 

        

     

    

     

 

   
  

 
 
 

 

GOOD NHWSBS.

205 —

 

THE CANARY’S ESCAPE.

—_+—_—_

|} WITH A MORAL FOR THE BOYS.

mee

*
wo] Our canary, on a day,
> fhought that ne would fy away—
poy Hy aWay, in regions far,
po, Ite and golden, like a star.
> 8'8 true,” said he, “T’ll go,
hether Willie wish or no;
Th all start whene’er I can ;
IS is my decided plan!”

_ $0, when Willie came to him,
i Tefully his cage to trim,
ue began to flit about,
‘ mrt In earnest, halt in doubt,
M he saw the door was wide,
me a dash, and was outside.
on he flew on fence and tree,
B €ling glad that he was free;
the puss went after him,
Nd his head began to swim ;
And too, did run and bark,
On the day grew dim and dark,
Coie again in fleld he flew,
* and wet with morning dew ;
ie Out, and fit to die,
ho longer wished to fly,

But
Warning wisdom like a sage,
; €n the wires from Willie’s hand
a to save, like fairy wand;
1 he telt right pleased again,
Th bi 4$ sunshine after rain ;
Th, 8 Cage he sang his best,
&nktul for its peace and rest.

Man " : :
Chan, a boy has been like this,

ging known for fancied bliss,
wasted himself away from home.
Thon’: ungoverned, he might roam ;
Like pat that all outside were blest,
The the swallows from their nest ;
An ent that he away would run,
tt Tejoice in freedom won.
Al ike birdie, he will find
hd. l€ world is far from kind,
Stil that home, though like a cage,
18 best till he’s of age.

SWIPES;

OR,

friends
ity.’ j
Ient, $0 1
around the
of cotton

desired his old ag

’ f iis olden cage,
n’t wan S
lo er!

i Th
"Worst Boy IN THE WARD.

A By “FRANK,”
Uthor ot “Smart Aleck,” ete.

Seika:
9

btaavas Commenced in No.1. Back numbers
tained of all News Agents. }

Getter

NUMBER THIRTEEN,
SWIPES’ RETURN HOME,

{ HEN he had partaken of a hearty
Meal, Professor Gallus felt some-

iy, What better. Once more he was
wipes j,, 02 Zood terms with all the world
Riceg “tt Is himself again,” he an-
outh, as he smiling]

¢ , and, a wooden toot
ding at a jaunt

angle from
'S teeth, sauntere

out to the

am gl d on 9 ‘

ih sly, ‘4a to hear it,” said our hero,

eg ou are not, then, troubled

2% sorte nes of remorse or anything

Th,

tise, mae for?” demanded the old

ten gore You seem to have entirely

t frie untimely end of your nearest
sho Mr. Noodleheimer.”

Swi, ,,50me one may overhear

cautioned the professor,

y 0 mean to say that you don’t
orse,” persisted the youth.

ere don’t.
e ” 2
Shocked and Swipes looked
€,” explained Professor Gallus,
® old man, and am sorry he is
4 ange EY should I feel remorse?”
i g_ you killed him.”
ton! He fell ina fair fight.
ake the same chances that he

0 at
Te, it’s true. And what differ-
nee Dutchman more or less

Shocked
Vel) “S8or,”

ol » YOu needn’t be.
we

to hear you speak in that

See here,

L Professor. ”

Oe eMop oe a drop the subject. You
any montage are the only persons who
Wye ng about the unfortunate

carte® |
al wt 8s,»

wil Vel, do
J MayyePer p

Say‘ ;

| fier ofepend more about it.

Nick
» Hill.

pOTIVEs -

Ou mean to betray me?”
Outed Swipes, with consid-

-* I feel that
on FE ;
vatcn any oe emorrhage, who was
‘tum 7 by Jove, I think I may as
ack to the city. i
tain} to New York?”
tat Will}; To remain away much
shit,» © equivalent to a confession
of"

a
Dy, conneot are right, professor.”
Nghe sr: I am, “Cicero Gallus is al-

ood terms with Noodle-

=

 

“Well, shall we go back right away?”

“No, I think not. The fact is am
pretty tired after the exciting events of
the day.”

“I shan think you would be. Then
you will remain here over night?”

“Yes, I do not think I can do better. In
the morning I shall be completely restored,
and I will then boldly return and confront
the world.”

“You seem to have plenty of nerve, pro-
fessor.”

“Oh, the man does not live who could
intimidate Cicero Gallus.”

And the old man lighted a cigarette and
began strutting up and down the piazza
with an airof as great importance as if
he owned the place and two or three hun-
dred acres adjoining.

Swipes’ eyes followed him with a calm,
thoughtful expression. The youth looked
so innocent and serious that no one not
intimately acquainted with his ways could
have imagined that he was plotting more
mischief; but such, we are deeply pained
to say, was the case.

Professor Gallus, after his long experi-
ence with Swipes ought to have known it,
but he was so wrapped up in the contem-
plation of his own importance just then
that he had no inclination to think of any-
thing else.

The evening passed peacefully enough,
and both the professor and Swipes retired
at an early hour.

Our hero conducted himself with such
decorum that Professor Gallus actually |
began to believe that Mr. Noodleheimer’s |
untimely end had sobered the youth down,

 

PROFESSOR

and robbed him for the time of his abnor-
mal appetite for fun.

Alas! he was destined soon to realize
the immensity of the mistake he was
making.

Swipes was habitually an early riser,
the professor was not.

At six o’clock the youth dressed himself
and went down stairs in search of sport,
leaving his companion snoring in the ad-
joining room.

He wandered about the place and amused
himself in a variety of ways until nearly
eight o’clock. Then he pranced_ into the
office and began reading the hand-bills on
the walls.

He had just made up his mind that he
would go up stairs and arouse the profes-
sor when a familiar voice on the piazza
outside attracted his attention.

Where had he heard that voice before?

In a moment he remembered.

It belonged to the brother of Mrs. Guf-
ferton, the irascible old gentleman with
whom Professor Gallus had had such an
exciting, though brief, interview on the
previous day. '

He was conversing with the landlord.

Swipes listened, and found that the sub-
ject of the conversation was the painful
events of the day before in which he, him-
self, had taken so active a part.

“Yes, sir,” he heard the old gentleman
say, “the two scoundrels represented
themselvs as surveyors who were laying
out the line of a new railroad. Their
story was an utterly preposterous one, but
my sister, womanlike, believed it and got
scared.”

; ane did she do?” inquired the land-
ord.

“Invited them to dinner, by Jove, and
set the best of everything before them,”

 

GALLUS WAS IN GOOD FORM THIS

“Haw, haw, haw!” roared the landlord.

“Well, it’s nothing to laugh at,” said
the old gentleman, evidently somewhat
offended. “After they had eaten and
drank their fill they agreed to change the
course of the road, ane my sister was half-
tickled to death.”

“Haw, haw, haw! good joke on Mrs.
Gufferton,” commented the landlord.
“Then they went away, I suppose?”

“Not much they didn’t. The older one
of the two began making love to my sister,
and the younger one—what do you sup-
pose he did?”

“Give it up.”

“Well, he seemed to know something
about the family affairs, and he went out-
side and waited for me. When I came
along what do you think he told me?—
that that rascal of a captain who has been
paying attentions to my sister was in the
parlor with her.”
ioe up a job on his own companion,
eh

“Yes. I swallowed his yarn and rushed
in, and threw the fellow out of the win-
dow without stopping to open it.”

“And when you found out your mis-
take——” giggled the landlord.

“They had made good their escape. If I
could have found them I’d have pulver-
ized them both, and if I ever do run across
them I’ll do it. Haven’t seen anything
of them, have you?”

Swipes was afraid that the landlord
would “give them away,” but he either
did not suspect their identity, or thought
it would not be to his interest to betray
them, for he only replied:

TIME, AND HE MADE EVERY BLOW TELL.

“No, indeed. Have

“Don’t care if I do.’

In a few moments the two old men were
puffing away in slient content. Then an
idea suggested itself to the reckless Swipes.

He quietly glided up stairs and entered
Professor Gallus’ room. He found the old
man fully dressed and apparently in very
good spirits.

“Ah, my boy, is that you?” he warbled.
“T was about to go out in search of you.
Where have you been?”

“Down stairs, professor. There’s an old
friend of yours down there.”

_ “A friend of mine?” said the professor,
in surprise.

“ Yes. ”

“Who is it?”

“Better go down and see. It will be a
very agreeable surprise, I. assure you.
You’ll find the person I refer to on the
piazza.”

“Really,” said the old man, glancing
into the mirror to see if he was as pretty
as ever, “you have aroused my curiosity,
Swipes. will go down at once.”

He did.

Swipes followed, expecting to see fun,
and he was not disappointed.

The professor cantered out upon the
piazza, an agreeable smile on his face.

He and Mrs. Gufferton’s brother caught
sight of each other at the same moment.

eee had expected that the professor
would retreat, but he didn’t.

The fact is, he had been thinking over
the unceremonious treatment he had re-
ceived on the previous day, and was
pretty mad on the subject. The sight of

is assailant acted upon him, therefore,
does upon a bull,

his feet,

a cigar?”
,

very much as a red fl

The old man sprang
+ a

“That’s him, that’s the scoundrel!” he
yelled, excitedly.

“Who are you calling scoundrel?” howled
the professor.

“You, you impostor, you——”

“How dare you, you ruffian ”

“Who’s a ruffian?”

“You are.”

“That settles it.”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” interposed
Swipes, stepping forward, a look of great
concern on his expressive young face.

But the old men paid no attention to
him, or tothe landlord; who, not want-
ing a fight on his premises began to ex-
postulate.

They just sailed in for all they were
worth.

As may be imagined, this was pie for
the unprincipled Swipes.

The way the fur flew for a while was
somewhat startling.

Both the old men were “game,” and
their blood was up.

Mrs. Gufferton’s warlike brother, re-
membering the contest of the previous
day, anticipated an easy victory,'but he
soon found that he had all he could do to
hold his own. :

The professor was in good form this
time, and he made every blow tell.

The landlord attempted to interfere, and

ot the reward that is usually bestowed

y an unkind fate upon such well-disposed
but misguided individuals.

Just as he stepped up out went the pro-
fessor’s fist, and Re got it in the mane eye.

The blow was arn accidental, but it’s
recipient took it into his head that it had
been given him purposely, and so he
waltzed into the thick of the fight, taking
sides against Professor Gallus.

But. as luck would have it he had not
been thus engaged more than twénty sec-
onds when he received another accidental
blow, this time bestowed squarely on the
nose, and by the fist of the professor’s
opponent.

Then he went in on his his own account,
slinging his arms around like a windmill,
and getting in a blow wherever he could
without caring whom he hit.

Swipes enjoyed alJl this, leaning up
against a poston the piazza, his face as
solemn as if he was listening to a funeral
oration.

The battle waged furiously for about
five minutes, and then Swipes decided to
take a hand in it himself.

So he pranced up, and under pretense
of trying to separate the three men, man-
aged to trip them up, one after the other.

Of course, this afforded lots of fun to
the audience which had assembled—a fight
would not be a fight without a crowd of
np erage Swipes was applauded to
the echo.

The contest came to an end all too soon
to suit its witnesses. Mrs. Gufferton’s
valiant brother was a pretty badly thrashed
man, and had to be helped home by two of
the natives.

The landlord, too, was a somewhat de-
moralized looking man, with his navy-
blue eye, his wollen nasal protuberance,
and his various other wounds.

But luck had been with Professor Gal-
lus for once in his life, and he had escaped
with scarcely a scratch.

Perhaps his manner was not slightly
haughty and overbearing!

It was, rather.

“The man does not live who could worst
Cicero Gallus in a contest of this sort,”
he boasted, as he strutted up and down he
piazza.

“You know how to use your hands, for
a fact, sir,” said the landlord, mournfully.

“YT should imagine I did, sir, I shosil
imagine I did.”

“So should I,” added Swipes. “Didn’t
you ever hear of the professor’s battle
with Sullivan?”

“What Sullivan?”

“Why, John L.”

“Have you fought John L. Sullivan?”
demanded the awe-stricken landlord.

“Why, certainly I have,” replied the
professor, taking up his cue; “and he
confesses that I am the one man living
who can punish him every time.”

“Come in and have breakfast with me.”

“Well, I don’t care if I do.” 3

At breakfast the best of everything was
placed before Professor Gallus and Swipes;
and when they called for their bill there
was not acent to pay, so great was the
landlord’s admiration for the man who
had thrashed John L. Sullivan.

The professor was naturally pleased with
the place, and felt like making an in-
definite stay; and Swipes had some
trouble in convincing him that it would
be advisable for them to return to New
York.

But he finally succeeded, and two hours
after the fight the two were on board a
train bound for the city.

As they neared New York Professor
Gallus became somewhat nervous.
“Suppose Hemorrhage has given the
whole affair away?” he suggseted.

“Oh, he would never do such a thing,”
said Swipes. “However, as you seem to
re worried about it, I’ll tell you what
oO 0 ”

“ Well ;” : -

 

 
  
  
     

20S

“Wait about a block from the saloon.
I’ll go in and see how the land lies, If
all is well, I’ll send for you.”

“Very good.”

So eno they were within sight of Mr.
Noodleheimer’s establishment the profes-
sor took refuge in a doorway, while
Swipes ambled on and glided into the
saloon.

He found Noodleheimer behind the
counter and Hemorrhage in front of it.

“Hello!” was the reporter’s cheerful
greeting. “Where have you been since
yesterday?” :

“Vere vas der brofessor?” inquired the
old German, and there was ashade of
anxiety in his face and voice.

“Have you not heard that he has de-
stroyed himself in a fit of remorse at hav-
ing killed you, as he believed?” inquired
Swipes.

Mr. Noodleheimer swallowed the bait
whole.

“Dot vos offle!” he wailed. “I told you,
Schvipes, I haf hat a bresentiment of dot.”

“Ts that so, Mr. Noodleheimer?”

“Yah. Dot vos der lasdt bractical chokes
I shall efer haf me somedings to do mit.”

Hemorrhage gazed incredulously at our
hero.

“How and when did all this happen?”
he inquired.

Swipes went on to give an account of
the aflemed suicide of the professor.

The recital was too much for Noodle-
heimer. He rushed into the back room
and picking up a German paper buried
himself in it and tried to read and forget
all about the awful tragedy.

“Now, see here, Swipes,” whispered
Hemorrhage, “what does all this nonsense
mean?”

“Hush!” responded the youth. “Want
to have some fun?”

“Yes; but where’s the professor?”

“Standing in the doorway of No. 17 up
on the next block. He believes that he
has killed Mr. Noodleheimer.”

And Swipes went on to give the reporter
an outline of the situation.

“Well, you are the boss jokist of the
age,” said Hemorrhage. “What’s to be
done now?”

“T’ll tell you: you go and bring the pro-
fessor down here. Hach of the old men
will think that he sees the other’s ghost,
and if we work the thing right there’ll be
lots of fun in it.”

“Good enough; I’m off!”

And the reporter left the. saloon, while
Swipes went into the back room and be-

an to harrow up Mr. . Noodleheimer’s
eelings by a series of blood curdling
ghost stories.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_—__+-e-____—_

The Snail’s Wonderful Vitality.

FT is very difficult to kill a snail unless
I} you crush it, as it is possessed of re-
markable vitality. A case is recorded
of an Egyptian desert snail which came
to life upon being immersed in warm water
after it had passed four years glued toa card
in the British Museum. Some specimens in
the collection of the Irish naturalist Sloane
revived after they had apparently been dead
for fifteen years; and snails frozen for weeks
together in solid blocks of ice have recov-
ered on being thawed out. The eggs of this
creature are as hard to destroy as the animal
itself. They seem perfectly indifferent to
freezing, and have been known to prove pro-
ductive after having been shriveled up in an
oven to the semblance of grains of sand.

ONE DOLLAR and FIFTY CENTS

SECURES

GOOD NEWS For 3 MONTHS

AND THE

$1.50 Official League Ball.

 

The ball is manufactured by Spanprna
Bros., and is the same as used by the pro-
fessional clubs. We not only send you for
THREE MONTHS the best boy’s paper pub-
lished, but a $1.50 OFFICIAL LEAGUE
BALL AS WELL.

ae a

Next week we will commence a new story by
EDWARD 8. ELLIS, entitled, “RAN-
SOMED,”

GooDpD

A CHEERFUL WORD OR HELPING
HAND.

nes

BY GEORGE BANCROFT GRIFFITH.

A cheerful word is like the dew
That cools the lips of thirsty flower ;
A helping hand, that’s strong and true,
The greatest boon in trying hour.

Oh, in this great and noble land,

How many hearts that’s bruised or broken,
If some one stretched a helping hand,

If unto them kind words were spoken,

Might—blessing e’er the thoughtful friend
Who led them up from sorrow’s valley—
To brighter heights from that day tend,
And those who sink around them rally ?
’Tis heroism, and brave and grand
To try and help a weaker brother,
And God delights to bless the hand
That grasps in sympathy another,

Be ready, then, all ye who read
These simple lines, this heartfelt ditty,
To help some humbler soul in need
With good right hand or tender pity.

nme

WHO WAS WHO?

mtn

BY EMERSON BENNETT,

 

————_—e———.

Mary Sommers, has gone to Boston,
to spend a few weeks with her aunt,
SS Mrs. Rogers, living on —— street,
and I would like you to call and make her
acquaintance. Your card will be sufficent
introduction—for, though you have never
met, your name, of course, is perfectly
familiar to her. Her father and I were
old friends, and it was always his wish
that our families might some day be
united by intermarriage, and our estates
also; so that if you find Mary to your
liking, and choose to make the relation-
ship nearer than it is, it will be highly
satisfactory to the friends of both parties,
and especially to
“Your affectionate father,
“SAMUEL APPLEBY.”

Qo
i] Mary sou heard that your cousin,

Such was the closing portion of a let-
ter, eA New York, which I re-
cived from my worthy father while stop-
ping at the Tremont House, in Boston, to
which city I had gone to attend to some
business for our mercantile firm.

I was at this time just twenty-two,
heart-whole, but very diffident, if not ab-
solutely bashful, in the presence of ladies,
and this note set me in quite a flutter. It
might be romantic for some people to call
on a young lady in this way, with a view
to selecting her for a future wife, but for
me it was painfully disagreeable, and I
would have given a good deal to have been
released from the nervous trial. A re-
quest from my father, however, was al-
ways.in the nature of a command for me,
and so there was nothing for it but to go.

“Confound Mary Sommers!” I said to
myself; “why didn’t she stay at home
while Iam in Boston? I wouldn’t won-
der if the whole thing was planned by
some meddlesome relations to bring us to-
gether, with a view to getting me tied up
to a wife, which I need and want about
as much as a dog wants two tails. Bah!
I shall not be surprised to discover that
the girl herself is an artful creature, as
deep in the plot as any one. But she’ll
not succeed; I promise that.”

It is said that the best way to take a
cold bath is to plunge in at once, and not
stand shivering and dreading it till your
whole system has become painfully ner-
vous, and as the trial before me was worse
than forty cold baths, I resolved to have
it over as soonas possible. I would go
that very night, about nine o’clock, with
the prayerful hope that the dear creature
might be out, in which case I was deter-
mined never to find time for a second call.

Well, in order to do justice to my hand-
some figure (on which, by the way, I
prided myself not a little), y dressed with
great care, as if for a grand party, and
nine o’clock found me searching along a
row of elegant private dwellings, for the
residence of Mrs. Rogers.

I should remark here that my sight is
not very good, ana that I have some
trouble in distinguishing objects, especi-
ally in the night, and more especially
if the light is not very bright. It often
happens that I fail to recognize an ac-
quaintance, except by his voice, or after a
very close scrutiny. I mention this defect
as a prelude to what followed.

Well, I was searching along, as I have
said, for the residence of. Mrs. Rogers,
when down the steps of a lighted mansion
hurried a young gentleman, who instantly
grasped my hand with nervous warmth,
and exclaimed:

“Oh, my dear Sam, I’m so glad you’ve
come at fast, even if it is late. We were
beginning to feel uneasy for fear some-
thing had happened; and any delay at
such a time, you know, always makes a

ainful impression upon every one. We

|don’t like parties, and I’m really not fit

NEWS.

beside herself, and we all pitied her so.
You will find her rather nervous now,
but it will soon be all right.”

I stopped and stared at the gentleman,
but the street was not light enough for
me to recognize him. That he knew me
he had proved by calling me by my name,
which is the same as my father’s. And
he spoke of Mary, too, though in a way
that rather mystified me. She expected
me, eh, and had a house full of company
to receive me? How did she know I was
coming? Ah, there was a plot in this
thing, as sure as fate! It had been calcu-
lated that my father’s letter would reach
me on a certain day, and that I would act
upon it the night following. Well, I
didn’t thank them for it, and I had half a
notion now to be very rude, and refuse to
go in. I didn’t like the idea of being
played with in this way, as if I were some
puppet to dance for whoever might pull
the strings.

“So they are anxiously waiting to see
me, eh? and Miss Mary has made herself
nervous about it?” I said, in a querulous
tone.

“And very naturally so, too, Sam.”

“And how did you all know I was com-
ing?” I queried.

“Oh, we had faith in you, of course.”

“How faith in me?”

“We did not believe- you would disap-
ee us intentionally, but we began to
ear that something serious had happened.”

“Suppose I had staid away ip agen

“T’ll not suppose anything of the kind,
Sam!” said the other, takthig my arm.
“Come on! Don’t let us keep them wait-
ing any longer They don’t know you’re
here yet, for I was outside looking for
you. Come on in!”

“No,” said I, holding back, “I’ve a
notion not to go in.”

“Oh, Sam, my dear fellow, you’re not
in earnest?”

“You can bet, Iam. In the first place I
for the society of ladies.”

“T know you are bashful, but you’ll
soon overcome that. Oh, my dear fellow,
just take the plunge and: end the matter.

ary is a sweet, beautiful girl, and will
make you an excellent wife.”

“Oh, she will, will she?” said I, now

grating my teeth with anger. ‘“Every-
thing is laid out, I see. I am merely the

puppet, to go as the strings pull. ery
well. Since you have settled it all with-
out me, I’ll now let you see how you’ll
settle it with me. I have decided to go
in now; but I really must beg you, and
my other unknown friends, not to feel too
proud of the way you manage me!”

The outer door was open; and as we
entered a high, spacious hall: I saw there
was a large company of ladies and gentle-
men, though, much to my surprise, the
lights were turned down so dimly that I
could hardly have recognized my own
father. By the way, was he there? I won-
dered.

“Oh, he has come!” I heard a lady’s
voice call out, in a tone of delight.

“Yes, he is here at last,” said another
voice.

Then several persons of both sexes hur-
ried to me, and grasped my hands one
after the other, each one making some re-
mark, the general purport of the whole
being that they feared something had
happened, but were rejoiced to find them-
selves so agreeably disappointed.

“Well, this is all pretty well planned
and carried out,” thought I, as I stood,
half-dazed, the center of attraction; “and
it must have been a pretty sharp spy that
found out my intention of coming at all.
Confound it! I wish I had known of this
in time to have disappointed them !”

“My dear Sam,” said a rich, mellow
voice, as a fine-looking, portly gentleman,
with slightly gray hair, hastened forward
and seized both of my hands at once, “I
never was so glad to see you in my life!
I was afraid that—that In short, you
know how embarrassing a little delay is
at such a time, to say nosing of a total
disappointment. Come, go right up stairs.
Everything is ready, and Mary is ner-
vously waiting for you.”

At this my street friend seized my
and said: “Come on,” and the crow
way for us to pass.

Since entering the house I had not said
a word, for the simple reason I had not
had a chance. They all knew me, it
seemed; but the lights being dim, as I
have stated, I had not been able to see a
single face distinctly. Did they take me
for a genuine numskull? or were they
themselves all lunatics? If a joke, they
were carrying the matter too far, as
would soon show them; and if in earnest,
they might yet have cause to repent as
reckoning without their host.

Though allowing myself to be conducted
up the stairs by my volunteer guide, whom
for the life of me I could not call by
name, I was secretly preparing to assert
myself when the proper time should come.

‘Why is the gas kept down so low?” I
asked him.

“Why, Mary’s eyes, you know!”

“Oh, there is something the matter with

 

arm,
made

     

 
   

she’ll not see so well mentally—av ™
in the future.” ot

My friend gave a kind of short Taué
as if he fancied I was trying to be facetl
and he wished me to think he CO@R
hended and appreciated my wit. sche

We now entered an elegantly-fums

 
  

   
   
      
    
 
  

 
   
   

      
 

»*

 
    

d

   

and gentlemen, all elegantly
if for a bridal.
long, white vail, and had orange np
in her hair. I could see this much
could not distinguish her features.
questionably there was to be @ W
and she was to be the bride. :
I was not introduced to the compe
but all seemed to know me, @# si
gentlemen shook hands cordially. lw
good deal abashed and confused, and
the hot blood mount to my templ ‘I
was I relieved of my embarrassmet
the least degree when I found my
singed to the bride as her escort. qi
What in the name of all that was
derful did it mean? Surely she ha
pees to marry me on sight, a2 |
pefore sight on my part? for her vai
down, and I had not yet seen her
But was this my Cousin Mary? esti
And I ventured to ask her the 44
in a whisper, and she pressed ™%
nervously. ‘od!
“And are you going to be mari@
were you waiting for me?” I WAM. {
“How did you know I would cont id
night? And who is to be the happy
groom? and why is he not here? 7) aif:
“Oh, dear Sam, please don’t joe
for my nerves are all unstrung! ice
plied, in a low, sweet, tremulous vi
Joke? Heavens! I was not this,
making a joke myself, however os
might te the victim of one on theP

    
     
    
      
       

  

       
        
 
  
 
   
      
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
   
  
    
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
    
   
   
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
    
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
    
  
 
  
 
  
 
  

    
  
  
   
    
    
  
   
 
   
  
   
   
  

others. d
Well, I managed to find my way,
stairs somehow, and into a large mn

drawing-room where a brilliant ©
was assembled, among whom was at!
copal bishop waiting to perform @ m
ceremony. fit
Almost before I was aware ® nd
bishop stood in front of the bride?
self and_ began the solemn marriage, j
mony. He looked straight at us, a
gan to fancy he was really about
us in wedlock. pe
Well, this thing would have 10% 5
ed, or I should soon have a wife
ands whose face I had never seen: ne
I felt terribly embarrassed, aD! 1
essayed to speak I choked and P
could hardly make myself hear@, yf
“Your pardon, most reverend Sis
aged to articulate, “but if you are)
me for the bridegroom, I beg leave
that I am not prepared to go that for
yet. _ I did not come here to-night
purpose of being married to a §

  

j

t of
sho

 

 
  
   
 

At first my words seemed to
astound everybody to silence, © 7hg
came a burst of indignation that the
the late quiet drawing-room into

“Villain !”

“Scoundrel !”

“Miscreant !”

“To insult a lady in such @

“He ought to be tarred and fe@

“And rode on a rail !” "

“And ducked in a horse-pond!

These were some of the mildest?
flashing eyes. be,

“Oh, Sam! Sam! how could yory0
cruel?” cried the young man of
dragged me into the house Peri
the gas, somebody, and let meat
know one of you! I hurl. vi eet '
scoundrel back into your V! t 4
some one. dio

“No! only caught out among 4
lunatics,” 1 retorted.

At this moment the gas
dered astonishment; “this 1
Atherton, after all!” .. qeaee

“Neither it is, by all that’s Wg
exclaimed another. rt
I was the victim of a mistake ins
design.

“Ah! here he comes!”

“Here he is now!”

sag W
: rip i
fusion and roar of a Bedlam, du int
manner!”
cla”
ef
; 0
speaking more in a tone 0
any Hi
§
and all, and assure you I’m NOP ag
full blaze, and I failed to see
ory
“No! no! no!” chorused several St
“Here is Sam Atherton h

 
 

imselft

 

 

 

 

ooked for you at eight o’clock, and it is
now past nine, Ah, poor Mary was nearly

  

her eyes, eh?” I cones sneered. “I
thought it might be her brain, Perhaps

 

on sight, nor to be made a but
her attendants carried off the
ansil,

“Tt is pernensts outrageous!”

tions I heard on every side faces y

an

I exclaimed, no longer embath wg

to be made a butt of by a set 0 Je abs?

I knew. p
“My name is Samuel Applebyind
These were the further ex¢l®) 4g

shallow-pated friends.”
ing bride.
wy
“He ought to be horsewhipped inert!
glanced around upon scornful
er.
“Who in thunder are you all,
just in the mood for a fight.
“Why, the man is crazy:
“Good Lord!” cried a voices ob
explained, beginning to comp e
at the moment an excite

when she comes to see better physi

apartment, where there were several | 1
reset

One of the ladies wor
03st!

     

  
  

  
ee

looking enough like me to be my twin
brother, came hurrying into the room, ex-
Plaining that he had been detained by an
accident.

. Well, it was, after all, a strange co-
Meidence, or, rather, a series of strange
Coincidences.

The bridegroom and myself looked
fnough alike to be each mistaken for the
Other in a dim light; our Christian names
Were the same; our voices and manners
Were Similiar; I was going to see my

ousin Mary, and he was about to marry

is Cousin Mary; he had been expected at
ght, and I had been found and brought

Rat nine; and only for the stopping of

ceremony I might have had fis very
le’ and pretty bride sealed to me for

When everything was finally explained
and understood, there was a gay time in
at grand mansion, and the real wedding
Proceeded with the right parties. I was
x amily pressed to remain, received apol-
Bles from everybody, and became quite a
‘on for the time.
to nd all this, if the strangest, was not
vey thinking the best part of my ad-
enture.
git So happened that my cousin, Mary
ommers, was one of the bride-maids, and
ad timed her visit to Boston so as to be
present, on this occasion to attend upon
t friend, Mary Lakely.
Was €n my part of the story came out, I
foung roduced to my cousin, whom I
hot 80 very attractive that, though I did
ae Marry her on sight, I did on a year’s
(aintance, and have never since had
Which to regret the ludicrous mistakes
to he were the beginning of what proved
So happy an ending.

ee

A Trick with a Duck.

\ OME years ago I was stopping in the
AQ) city of Allahabad, near the center of
India, Every day a party of native

Bet otel and exhibiting their skill on the
Wag ™ front of the building. One day I
doo Particularly attracted by an old Hin-
dow, US Sou and daughter, who squatted
crow on the ground and waited for the
dia of Sightseers to gather round. They
Rot have long to wait.
Inake X enough spectators had come to

he performance profitable, the old

f
low drew from the bag, that all Indian
-“Rglers

sta use to convey their ‘‘properties” in, a

ater earthenware jar filled with muddy
Water ao first sprinkled a few drops of
jar 1 on the ground, and then placed the
took eo three small stones, which he also
smal] tom the bag. He, then produced a
Specs a2 duck and gave it to me for in-
it, poU: I found nothing noticeable about
laiq asked me to put it into the water.
tom 80, and it immediately sank to the bot-
tom't, € next drew from the bag a small
emits M-—g, little musical, instrument that
i “Ny drumming sound when the handle
jar Tea, and began waving it around the
Astantly the duck arose to the sur-

80, Whe € told me to touch it. I tried to do
®Dpear » the bird again disappeared, to re-
I ,,.8%in and again at the juggler’s will.
Ust confess that I was mystified.
Was apparently no cause for the

ae actions of the little bird. It was
COnjuy t the third or fourth visit of the
trig“ that I discovered the secret of the

It
— ang xy & particularly bright sunny day,
4d chosen a place among the specta-

rs
loweq sShtly nearer than the others were al-
While t Was behind the scenes, as it were.
Noticgg ttentively watching the trick, I
long . the sunshine fhe sparkle of a
to ao that extended from the tom-tom
SW thi Ottom of the jar. The moment I

Was I divined the juggler’s secret, and I
Tect, td found that my theory was cor-
Ane} 6 jar already contained a china
tnindy cisely similar to the one I had ex-
to the ae that it was buoyant. Attached
This has °8St of this duck was the hair.
botto, 7,came through a tiny hole in the
Mth, - the jar. The water was sprinkled

en th 8round to conceal any leakage.
the iy © Jar was placed upon the ground,
Rot tise Was fastened so that the duck could
Pickeg “Se the surface. As the juggler
tey for P his tom-tom, it was an easy mat-
th © Pag to fasten the end of the hair to
tinged of a bit of wax. After this was
Able to n..) 04_can see how easily he was
hq coke this counterfeit duck bob up
Nat the word of command.

——-0-e——____——_
e P
by, have just secured LIEUTENANT

K. OR TON as an exclusive contributor

OD : ‘ °
News and will soon begin one of his
Stories.

besy

 

jugglers were in the habit of visiting |

 

 

 

 

GooD NEW SB.

DO YOU KNOW HIM?

Maa acca
BY EVA LOVETT CARSON.
ee es

He takes offense at what you say,
Although you say it well;

It seems he always thinks you may
Mean more than words can tell.

He frowns and colors if you laugh,
Looks puzzled if you sigh ;

He’s not a fellow you can * chaff,”
He’s such a mighty ‘ I.”

Tis plagued hard to talk at all
To such a man as that;

He makes your mildest jokes look small
By wondering who they’re at.

He finds in every word that’s said
A something that can hit—

Because his world contains one head,
So every cap must fit.

--+____ ~}- @ > -_ --- -—.

Things Generally.

MR. MILLER’S TWINS.

“SDA\HEY were in the parlor-car, just

the ready to start for Pittsburgh, with
tH, the twins. Mrs. Miller happened to

= remember that she had lett her
satchel with the candy-woman in the
ladiés’ room, soeshe asked Mr. Miller to
hold the children for a minute, while she
ran out to get it. Just as she reached the
waiting-room the train started. Miller
did entertain a faint hope that she might
have jumped upon the hind car, but no,
she did not appear; and he began the jour-
ney in a condition of frenzy, with a baby
upon each knee.

To add to the horror of the situation, he
remembered that the nursing-bottles, and
the other baby appurtenances, were in that
very satchel Mrs. Miller went to get.

For a while the babies were good. The
passengers eyed him a little, and he had
an unpleasant feeling that he was pos-
sibly regarded as a kidnapper ; but he bore
up under it bravely. About twenty miles
out, Ivanhoe, one of the twins, began to
cry. Trying to soothe him, Miller let
Polycarp, the other baby, tip over so that
it was necessary to catch sdddehiy at him
and bring him up with a jerk. This set
Polycarp to crying, and Miller kept both
of his knees going, in an effort to quiet
them. But the harder Miller jolted the
louder the twins cried.

He felt as if he would like to sing to
them, but he was ashamed todo so be-
fore the passengers. So he gave Pol ee
his watch to play with. That quiete
Polycarp. But Ivanhoe clutched at. the
watch, and organized a contest with Poly-
carp over it. This induced Polycarp to
tune up, and, between them, the watch
dropped on the floor. While stooping
over to pick it up, Miller let Ivanhoe
droop so that he bumped his nose against
the arm of the seat. Ivanhoe lifted up
his voice and wept, and Polycarp gave
equally violent expression to his emotion.

filler felt certain they were hungry,
but there was not a morsel of food on the
train, excepuing yingernuts, that the
newsboy had for sale, and he knew they
would set the babies’ stomachs afire. Be-
sides, they had no teeth. Miller had half
a notion recklessly to cram them full of
the fine-cut tobacco he had in his pocket,
and to steel his heart to the consequences.

But just then the train stopped. Put-
ting the babies on the seat, he rushed out
and bought two pieces of peach pie, the
only viand for sale, and then he rushed
back with it. Polycarp was on_ the floor,
head downward, and Ivanhoe had swal-
lowed three inches of a shawl-strap. He
straightened them out, and stuffed them
with pie until their eyes bulged out. It
was effective for a while, but pretty soon
they began to cry with the stomach-ache,
and in a few moments both of them were

sick.

Miller began to feel that death would
be a welcome relief from all this woe. He
began to wish that he had remained
single. But there was nothing to do but
to stand it.

When night came, Miller put the babies,
grimy with dust and cinders, and smeary
with pie, into the berth with him. They
cried all night, and the atmosphere of the
car was heavy with improper adjectives
hurled at Miller and the twins by the sleep-
less and excited passengers. In the morn-
ing, as they glided into Pittsburgh, Miller
found that Polycarp had gotten turned
round, and had been lying on top of Ivan-
hoe, kicking his heels in Ivanhoe’s face
during most of the night.

When he_ shouldered the twins and
walked out into the depot, he felt as if he
looked like a tramp. He didn’t dare to
zo to ahotel lest he should miss Mrs.
Miller, who would be certain to come on
the next train, so he sat down in the room
to wait for her. A crowd began to gather
around him, and to watch him with curi-
osity; and a policeman, who was about to
collar him and run him out, was re-
strained only by a rehearsal of his sad
story.

Mr. Miller waited there eight hours,

 

feeling certain that the twins would be
dead by the time their mother arrived.
He was utterly miserable, and he knew
she would be nearly frantic.

A train entered the depot. A moment
later in walked Mrs. Miller bright, chip-
per, and smiling. She said:

“Why, John, what’s the matter? Ain’t
you well?”

“ Ain’t I well?”

“The babies, too, they look awfully.
What on earth have you been doing to
them?”

“Doing to them?” replied John, getting
angry.

“Why, you haven’t taken a bit of care

'of them, I declare,” said Mrs. Miller, be-
| ginning to cry. “I'll never trust you with

the dear little darlings again.

Miller rose. He planted Polycarp firmly
in one seat. He soused Ivanhoe down in
the other. Turning to Mrs. Miller with a
tragic air, he waved his hand, and said:

“There, madam, are your little darlings,
your infernal little darlings! Take care
of them yourself.”

Then he pulled his hat over his eyes, and
walked grandly out, resolved to commit
suicide on the spot. But he didn’t—he
returned in half an hour and took the
family to a hotel; but he has registered a
vow never to travel again without a nurse.

CALIFORNIA CELERY.

r-<AST spring Mr. Cooley received
from the Agricultural Department

in Washington some seeds of what
professed to be a new variety of

celery from California. He slanted a
large bed in his garden with it, and after
a while it began to come up nicely. Ina

and that they were very fond of congre-
gating in the garden. He counted fifteen
on the celery bed one day, and on the next
day there were thirty-four. Two days
later he saw over forty hanging about in
various Pages. and the number constantly
enlarged, until in a few weeks six or
seven hundred cats had taken u

perma-
nent residence in the garden.

There were

white cats and black cats, tortoise-shell |

cats, yellow cats, gray cats, tiger cats,
cream-colored cats, Maltese cats, speckled
cats, long-tailed cats, short-tailed cats,
and cats without any tails. At night they
would range themselves along the fence
and send up prolonged and awful yells,
which seemed to Cooley like the noise

that an orphan asylum might make under | .4. him because the lawyers said the jury
it aun | wouldn’t give a verdict for the company
Sprit anc | on the evidence.
| went into mourning when Cooley backed
| out.

the influence of a powerful epidemic of
stomach-ache. Then they woul
yowl and turn handsprings and put up
their backs and go tearing around over
the California celery in a manner calcu-
lated to fill the sa of an agriculturist
with utter dismay.

It was useless to try to drive them off,
No dog dared put his nose in the gate,
and shooting them did no good, because
whenever Cooley killed six cats, fifteen or
twenty more arrived next day. The en-
tire country around was drained to keep
up the supply. Cooley at first thought

that his farm had been selected as the |}

place for holding a general convention, or
a synod, or a ratification meeting, or
something; but he was struck after a while
by the fact that the cats ate all the Cali-
fornia celery as fast as it came up; so he
began to have misgivings, and after being
kept awake all one night by the screech-
ing of the synod out in the garden, he
took some of the celery seed over to But-
terwick’s and asked him if he could tell
him what kind of celery that was. But-
terwick looked at it, smelled it, and said:

“You didn’t buy that for celery, did

1 79

“No; I got it from Washington.”

“And planted it?”

“Of course; a whole bed full. And
what gets me is that all the cats around
the neighborhood made a bee-line for that
bed as soon as the celery came up.”

“Now I'll tell you what you do. If you
really want to make a collection of cats,
you sow an acre with that seed; and the
first thing you know cats ’ll be emigratin
from Peru, and Sweden, and Japan, an¢
Canada East, and Cochin China, and Terra
del Fuego, in order to get at your place.
They’ll swim the Atlantic Ocean and walk
thousands of miles, and fight Bengal
tigers to reach you. That celery of yours
is catnip. That’s what it is. Chuck some
more of it in the ground, and you’ll soon
have the biggest cattery in the world—
millions of ’em. And then you can start
a sausage mill and a fine muff er 3

It was catnip; and Cooley he went home
and plowed up the bed. Then he sat down
and wrote to the Agricultural Department
to say that if it was established for the
purpose of promoting the use of profanity
among American farmers, he believed
that its efforts were likely to be crowned
with extraordinary success.

A FEARFUL GAS BILL,
o8e R. COOLEY’S gas-meter was
IN; frozen during a cold snap last
SVO) winter, and he made very strenu-

ous exertions to thaw it out. He
poured hot water on it by the bucketful,

 

: : | ence.’
few days he noticed that the number of |

cats around the place began to increase |

 

 

207

and as that didn’t seem to start the ice
on the inside he got the poker and pushed
it down through a hole, and tried to give
the meter a good stirring up inside. After
a while he heard the wheels buzz around
—in a very unusual manner, he thought—
but he was satisfied to get the machine in
motion, and he let it go. Ordinarily,
Cooley has burned about 1,000 feet of gas
in three months. Just after he thawed out
the meter, the man came to inspect it, and
a couple of days later he received a bill
for fifteen million feet of gas! His-hair
stood on end. He went down to the gas-
office at the rate of ninety knots an hour.
He saw the clerk, and said:

“How much gas did the company man-
ufacture altogether during the last
quarter?”

“T dunno. Somewheres about .ten mil-
lon feet, I reckon.”

“Well, and here you’ve sent me a bill
for fifteen million feet, or half as much

| again as the company made.”

“Can’t help it. That’s what the meter
says. You must have burned it.”

“Now how in thunder can that be, if
the company didn’t make that much?”

“Dunno. I’m not here to guess conun-
a but to take cash. ‘The meter can’t
ie,”

“Lie! Lie! why the old Father of Lies
himself couldn’t ’ve built a machine that’d
smash the truth faster.”

“They all say that. Better sock up and
stop blackguarding the meter.”

“T’ll tell you what’s the matter with it.

| I jammed the poker into it and started it

ahead. Now that’s the honest truth.”
“We tharge all the same whether it’s
pokers or gas. Don’t make any differ-

’

“Well, I ain’t going to pay you $300,000
because I busted the machinery with a

poker, anyway.”
“Oh, you ain’t, hey? Well, we’ll see
ep 9

about that! I’ll turn your gas off.

“You’ll turn it off! Ha! ha!” exclaimed
Cooley, with a wild laugh. “And if you
do that infernal meter ‘ll go right on and
make out that I’m burning a billion feet
a month after it is turned off.”

“Then you’ll have to pay for that, too,”
said the clerk.

“Ts that the way you always do?”

“That’s the invariable rule.”

“Very well,” said Cooley.

He walked out, went home, took the
ax, smashed the meter to atoms, chucked
it into the street, shut off the gas, and
laid in ten pounds of candles. They didn’t

But all the stockholders

They thought they had struck a gold
mine in him.

Four Great Stories

We take pleasure in announcing the fol-
lowing stories, by the most popular authors :

RANSOMED:

>

The Captives of the Apaches.
A SEQUEL TO ENOLA.

By EDWARD §. ELLIS.
COMMENCING NEXT WEEK.

GRIT:

THE YOUNG BOATMAN OP PINE POINT.

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.
COMMENCES IN No. 16.

Gay Hr, Che Rana.

By HARRY CASTLEMON.
COMMENCES IN No. 17.

The Young Duck Hunters.

By W. B. LAWSON.
COMMENCES IN No. 1.

Besides the above we have other first-class
stories for

GOOD NEWS,

which will be announced very soon,

-

 

Se ere ep pee Os nc ey
 
  

  
  
  

, 208"

 

DREAMS AND REALITY.

——@———s

If we think that clouds will never
Dim the azure of life’s sky,
That the sunshine’s brightness ever
Will make time pass swiftly by;
That to ws can come no winter,
That the flowers will always bloom,
Life he but a glowing picture,
Never marred by shade of gloom—

We are dreaming. Time willshow us
Sunny hours must some time go;

Heavy storms may beat upon us,
Wrecking many joys we know.

Then, when many hopes have faded,
Lite to us may all look gray ;

We may often pause and wonder
Why we once were blithe and gay.

And, full oft, when blessings vanish,
Borne away on Change’s tide,

Some whom we have loved and trusted ,

‘* Pass by on the other side.”

When a vail shall hide life’s beauty,

5 Clouds keep from us all the blue,

We Shall find, with other good things,

Friendship oft is hidden, too.

Yet we know that only briefly

Storms and winter hold their sway ;
Balmy air and summer breezes

Soon will drive them both away.
Other flowers will bloom as brightly,

Other hopes may crown us still,
Nature's lessons all may teach us

To be happy if we will.

Puzzle Corner.

Qe

{Original contributions solicited. Please do not
send puzzles containing obsolete words. Address,
ar e Editor” Goop News, New York City, P. O. Box
2734.

-

 

 

No. 1—DovusLE Acrostrc—
The primals and finals, read down, are altogether
too common. They are of the same order.
1 A sot.
2 A woman’s name,
8 An entrance.
4 Peculiar.
5 One of the United States.
6 Wrong.

7 Empuasis. WILSON.
No. 2—DrRoPpreD VOWELS—
GDDFNDSTHRGHT
Bos SLED.

No, 8—CHARADE—
My first is in,
My second is part of two,
What is my whole ?
Who'll guess this first, will you?
RICKEY.

No. 4—Cross Worp ENIGMa—
1 In warm, not in cold.
2 In cast, not in mold.
8 In hand, not in foot.
4 In shoe, and in boot,
5 In go, not in come,
6 In ran, not in run,
7 In nap, not in sleep.
8 In cry, not in weep.
What tree herein is hidden deep ?
A BECKET,
No. 5—WorD SQuARE—
1 Sounded.
2 Atfecticn.
8 Level.
4 Departed.

No. 6—ABSENTED LETTERS—

—rde — —n— —etho— —ende— —l— —hing—
~as—.

Who will have the kindness to oblige these
words by finding their heads and tails? Hay,

No. 7-HOLLOW SQuARE—
1 Top, a master.

2 Right, a title of honor formerly given to women.
8, Bottom, a wild pigeon:
4 Left, clamorous.

No. 8—HALF WorD SQUARE—
1 Comfort.
2 A tree.
3 To abide. or exist.
4 Abbreviation of an entrance or street,
5 Consonant sound,
6° Vowel.

No, 9—DouBLE DiAMonD—
Across—A consonant,
A plant.
Sharpeners.
Virtue.
Petulant.
Truly.
A consonant,
Downward—A consonant,
Furious.
Sweet.
A medicinal herb,
Plagues.
A pen.
i A vowel.
No, 10—Drcaprrations—
1 Behead a fish, and leave an animal.
2 Another, and leave a unit.
3 Another, and leave to listen.
4 Another, and leave to defea’.
5 Another, and leave health.
6 Another, and leave to dissolve,

‘* UNCLE NED.”

PERCIE.

MILLIE,

ALEX. H,

HERAT.
No. 11—Rervus—

   

 

 

Sih

AOS

-—

 

 

 

 

~ od — Eadie ik oe
Gu. 1S aie ‘ 4 ltl hii eels cel
*OH, LOOK! WHAT A LONG HORSE!”
4 Every dish of the Sultan of Turkey is stamped
Answers (0 Puzzles lll No, 13 Cro0d News. and sealed before it leaves his kitchen,
No. 1— Ir is impossible to form a good sentence of the
English alphabet, using every letter only once.
See THERE are one thousand and eight hotels and
No, 2— inns in Switzerland for the special use of tourists,

The horse-power of steam used in the
United States on railways, steamers, and
in factories and mines was, in 1888, 12,100,-

000, against 1,610,000 in 1850.
Krey—A means j, b meansk, c means J, etc,; and
1 means 6, 2 Means 7, ete.

No, 3—
Made, ode, doe, do.

No. 4—

AC
Cc. O
CR
EN
PE
. 1

At

>

GH >a
BIQP

Deroy
MODE y

No. 5—
Verge ill (Virgil).

No. 6—
Who judges others all too stern,
Can but expect like in return.

No. T—
VO—C—AL
SP—O—RT
VA—L—OR
TR—U—ST
RU—M—OR
FA—B—LE
SP—I—RE
PE—N—NY
TR—E—AT

No, 8—
1 tn
2 Cruel.
8 Christian.
4 Transport.
56 Astonishment. '
6 English.

No. 9—
Washington’s birthday,

No, 10—
1 Akerman, maker,
2 Almania, lamina,
3 Alameda, medal.
4 Alassio, sisal.
5 Alboran, labor.
6 Aragona, groan,

No, 11—
Waves, wild waves, will ye not bring back
My lover trom over the sea ?
I’ve waited long, and the days are passed
When he should have returned to me,
ANSWER TO REBUS IN NO. 12,

No. 1.—When fools speak, wise men keep silent.

Short Stops.

PoETS are like watches—a spring seis them
going.

Norway has eight different kinds of bronze coins
in circulation.

An average of three seamen lose their lives by
drowning every day.

Most of the cheap kinds of ostrich feathers are
manufactured in London,

Tuer Khedive of Egyptcan talk English, German,
French, and Italian fluently.

Proressok OWEN believes the human race is
eighteen thousand years old.

Tue population of the world increases at the
rate of 1 per cent. per annum.

NEARLY five hundred million postal cards are used
annually in the United States,

WE wonder if the burglar who has a fondness
for art prefers steal engravings.

HORSEFLESH {8 said to be the worst thing in the
world to give people the nightmare.

 

A PHILOSOPHER Is a man who bears with resigna-
tion the toothache from which his neighbor is suf-
tering.

THE hardest thing about being beaten in a law-
suit is the going home and telling the result to
your wife.

‘*DoEs he ever talk ?”
“He? He's as silent as the 0 in subtle, or the wu
in catalogue.”

MEPHISTO (behind the scenes): ‘Ha! what do I
see? Only four bouquets thrown on the stage, and
I paid for five.”

HEe—‘'I am sure you would like my brother.”
She—“I have no doubt I should. Iam told you
two are so different.”

FORWARD Waton—‘‘ Eight bells, and all’s well.”
Sea-sick Old Lady—‘*He wouldn’t say soif he
knew how badly I felt.”

SOME one suggests that the severity of the Rus- |
sian climate may explain why so many Russian |
names end with a koff,

A socraL philosopher has discovered that men
wear long hair only tn countries where women are
under complete subjugation,

Sours African farmers are greatly annoyed by
baboons. They kill their sheep, rob their bee-
hives, and tear down fruit trees.

“Ts that young man gone, Matilda’ cried her
father from the top of the statrs.
“Oh, awlully !” returned Matilda,

PROFESSOR Of Mineralogy (at the examination)—
‘Where are the most diamonds found,”
Candidate—“At the pawnbroKer’s,”

 

|
|
|

 

WouLpbn’? Ger Justick.—“Do you think V’ll get
justice?”

“Oh, no. You're allright. They’ll acquit you.”

“THERE Is very little poetry in a lawyer’s life, I
can tell you.”

‘‘Maybe. But lawyers are always writing versus.”

“THE Chinese always begin the new year by pay-
ing their debts.”
i on then, you know, the Chinese are uncivil-
zed.’

VisIToR—“‘I suppose your daughter is busily
preparing for her wedding?”

Mother—" Yes, she is up in her room now, de-
stroying all her old letters.”

THE most graceful of the domestic animals is the
cat, while the most awkward bird is the duck, but
it won’t do to use these facts for a basis if you
want to call your jiancee pet names,

THE fishermen of Iceland now regularly carry
oil in their boats to smooth the waves. which
enables them to continue at work in weather that
betore they would not have dared to tace.

“IT FELL Over the bulwarks,” said the sailor, “‘and
the shark came along and grabbed me by the leg.”

“And what did you do?”

“T let him have the leg.
shark.” -

I never dispute with a

“Is it you who’s been eatin’ these ’ere dates?”
asked a grocer of a new assistant; “I see the
Stones on the floor.”

“No, sir,” was the ingenuous reply;
allus swaller mine.”

*’cos I

Docror—‘' How are you ?”

Patient—‘‘No better.”
' aes You remember I told you to eat plain
‘001 ? ”

Patient—“That’s what I’m doing, I’ve eaten
nothing but plain ldbster.”

“T LOVE this old horse,” sald the colonel, “1 feel
that he saved my life.”

*How?”

“He kicked me in the stomach before the battle,
80 that I couldn’t goon the fleld, and my substi-
tute got shot in the neck,”

 

Our Mail Bag.

SS

dealt with in the “Mail Bag.” Medical or
questions not answered. Goop NeEws goes to Ge
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there?
fore answers cannot appear until two or three W
after we receive them. ]} ;

 

o———s

Dick D., (N. Y.)\—Apply to Cooper Institute.

P. B. S., (Galena.)—Puzzles received and a
cepted.

E, L, H. (New York).—India-ink is used in tal
tooing,

Geo. M., (Boston.)—Read the awarding of medal
in No. 11.

C. E. G., (Pen Argyl, Pa.)—Write to Scribner, 74
Broadway, N. Y.

Hugo B. (Brooklyn).—We have your suggestion
under consideration.

O T. B., (West Somerville.)—Please read article
headed ‘‘Base-Ball Cranks, Ahoy.”

B. A. J., (Baltimore.)—Please send full partict
lars, signed and witnessed as article calls for.

H. N. B., (Cincinnati.)\—We will probably start
the club about which you inquire in a few months

L. M.Z., (N. Y.)—Geo. Littlewood has a record
of 623 miles, made December 1, 1888, in New YO!
city.

W. W. S., (Camden.)—Read full particulars in
the article headed ‘“Base-Ball Cranks, Ahoy!” #2
this issue.

F. E, S. (Chicago).—We_ have received your vert
interesting proposition, but cannot entertall
this season,

Geo. K. (Mt. Pulaski).—To’ secure a “Book Hag’
mitim,”” you must send us the coupons from NO
to No. 12 inclusive,

Y. S. (Binghamton) asks if we intend publishiM
another serial of Horatio Alger’s soon. We W
commence one in No. 17,

T. J. D., (Topeka.)\—We have on hand all the
matter we can use for some time to come, a!
therefore cannot accept your offer. ;

J. J. L., (Brooklyn.)—It is not injurious to opt
your eyes under the water when bathing. W@
pleased to learn that you like our paper.

W. A. O., (Nashville.)\—If you are not too aelt
cate, we certainly would advise you to lear ©
machinist’s trade since you like it so much.

L. Evans, (Albany.)--Read the Humane sovlety
article in No.7. You must be a life-saver t0 id
come a member of this society and receive 482
medal. i

ex:

Pickett, (Va.)\—The puzzles you sent usare ub
cellent, neatly put together, and interesting:
as some of them contain obsolete words we canBy
publish them all.

John Hayes, (Puiladelphia.)—Write out @ tal
history of the affair, and have it witnessed a
signed by a notary public, similar to the
Vanlue article in No. 11 Goop News, *

Charlie J. M. (Chicago).—You evidently havé not
caught the idea regarding the base-ball guess
you only send the supposed winner of the pen»!
in each League. Read the “Base-Ball’ article j

ge

Cadet Carey, (N. Y.)\—1. The preparation me
in postage stamps is not known outside 0 eph
Government printing office. 2. Yes. We ace
postage stamps to any amount. 8, We will V&%

soon.

Captain (Chicago).—Yes, we will gladly send th
members of your club’a sample copy of oe
NEws. We would also like to receive the 0# rm
and address of every amateur base-ball playe! ~
the United States.

P. @. R. (Padueah).—We are pleased t0 leat
that you like our paper. The department Vig
mention will be commenced in the fall. Sem end
the names of your friends, and we will gladly
them sample copies.

gtle-
Guy

J. W. C., J, (N. Y.)—1. Story by Harry ©#
mon will commence in No. 16. It is entitled ress:
Harris.” 2. No. 25 Clinton place is the addr oD
3. Yes; in the fall, 4, We have in prepat®
the articles you mention. ’

F. W. L. (New York).—Your Base-Ball guesseh
are all right.
guess the P, L. and N. L. at the same time:
zles accepted, and will be published shortly:
thank you for your kind opinion. ;

be
Big Boy (San Francisco).—1. The players ne
club you name are mostly all playipg ip fall’
Brotherhood League. 2. Your handwriting !8 oye,
and above the ordinary style for a boy Our 6 00
8. It has not been measured yet. 4. BelOPP yet
the Government, and therefore it has no PA wet
valuation. 6, An ordinary oyster-shell will a2?
the purpose, ,
oll
D. A. F., (Niagara Falls.)—To increase Yoh
weight, we recommend you go to bed oF e w
o'clock. Do not take cold. baths; breall’. eal
fresh air of the country as often as you rat
plenty of grapes when in season; do nol ih of
yourself. At your meals eat fresh eggs 0? yic
poached, cutlets, soup, meat, and fish; als? rine
sweet pastry, creams, fresh bread, an coal?
ceous preparations. Avoid acids and alee
liquors.

Charles R. M. (Eureka, Cal.)—1. Yes.
not matter where you buy your paper. gi
have heard about the authors you men long pit
will probably publish stories by some of @oree
the near future. 3, ‘S. & S, Manual” means age
& Smith's Manual Library,” a book of 66 Pieol®
issued semi-monthly, and treating on , 54% en
of interest to every one. The first num .
titled, “The Album-Writer’s Assistant; “5 0?
“The Way to Dance ;”’ No, 8, “The way, no. &
Magic ;” No. 4, “'The Way to Write Letters cout
“How to Behave in Society ;” No, 6, “AMY oagl
Manual of Photography ;” price, 10 ¢ 6. Ww
4, In a few weeks. Send in your notice.
have all the stories we need for some times

  

[Questions on subjects of general interest only ar

7 ; rou
Each certificate entitles 9” pag