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eos: were two who called him so.| Ned. She was my sister. We were or-

to my mind it was not less sacred. heart, and opened sealed fountains of

events recorded in my story, I sat one
day in a hushed and darkened room, The| object of human affection. But now she
fair, pale face resting on the white pil-
low was the face of the mother of our! was passing away from earth. Wilt} SAT = ea AA a |

      

  
   

     

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#niered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1891, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. O.
Entered as Second-class Matter at the New Yorl:, N. Y., Post-Office, April 25, 1891.

 

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nt,

By Lou Capsadell.

 

One claimed our Ned by right of|phans, For long years we had been all
>A) parentage. My own claim rested| the world to each other. Then other ties
on a different foundation, though | had drawn out the wealth of her loving

 

Twenty-five years before the latest| tenderness. With me it had been other-
wise. She was still to me the dearest

       
 

| i} | : " EN Was + >
was dying. In that quiet chamber she H NN eH NH NN ee 3 ;
i

rt |.
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ai WHAT jogs ALL THIS MEAN, MY ©
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HP file i}
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‘HERE IS SOMETHING WHICH WILL HELP BAKE YOUR BISCUIT,” SAID NED'S FATHER.

A merry shout from the hall below) father’s cane for a horse, and was shout: | “Come with me, darling, and get a kiss] low, and Ned received not one kiss but
broke the stillness of the apartment. | ing in boyish glee to his imaginary steed. | from mamma,” I said, in a hushed tone,|many. His mother caressed and talked

“Bring him to me,” she faintly whis-| The tears filled my eyes. How little he| intended to check his boisterous mirth. | with bim til] her strength was all but ex-
pered. | dreamed of the sad reality passing in the| I bore him to the room in my arms, | hausted,

“Are you stcong enough this after-:room above. Poor boy! No sweet re-| and laid him on his mother’s bed, | “Let me take him away,” I said.
noon?” I inquired. |membrances. of a mother’s love would| “Come for a kiss, mamma,” he said, in| I took him in my arms, while his

“Yes, dear, I wish to see him.” ever be his. The téart in which it was now | sweet childish accents. mother breathed a “Heaven bless you,

I went down stairs, Ned was using his throbbing would soon be cold in death, The pale face was lifted from the pil- | my son—my son.”

 
 

 

 

802

I was turning from the bed when she' law; and before a remonstrance could be | through my mind, I thought it very fool-

raliied her feeble strength, and said: |

“Stop one moment, sister, dear.”

I paused, and turned again to the bed. |

“That dear child, now in your arms, I
commit to Heaven and to you,” she said.
“Promise me-that -yow will never desert
him; that you will be a mother to him; !
that you will watch over him as if he,
were your own child.”

In that chamber of death I gave the |
promise and sealed it with two kisses |
wet with tears. One dewy kiss rested on*|
‘the pale brow of the dying mother, the’
‘other on the blooming cheek of the fair |
‘child, who wiped it away with his fat, |
‘dimpled hand, all unconscious of the}
-sacred character of the pledge just sealed.

From that moment a new fountain was
‘opened in my heart. If it was not one of
‘maternal love, it was very near akin to it,

After the death of my sister I received
ifrom my brother-in-law an invitation to |
make his house my home, and take charge:
‘of the household matters in general, and
‘of Ned in particular. Mr. Thomas, my
brother-in-law, was a silent, reserved
man. How he had won the heart of my |
gentle, loving sister, I had never clearly
understood. He had some excellent |
qualities, however, though not of a frank |
and genial temperament. It was not the
‘home [I should have chosen had Ned been
our of the question, but if I would fulfill
the promise made to my dying sister, my
home must henceforth be beneath the
roof of the father of Ned, and so I quietly
‘took my place as mistress of the neat lit-
‘tle farm-house which had been my sis- |
'ter’s home since her marriage. |

Years passed away. I endeavored to
‘be faithful to my promise. Ned was a
‘healthy, happy child, full of activity and
boisterous mirth, as such boys always
are. I soon found that the charge of such
a boy was not a light task. His unceas-
ing activity was often a tax on nerve|
and brain. Nothing pleased him better
than hammer, nails, bits of board, and a
ball of twine. With these he would!
‘amuse himself hour after hour. As he
grew older, some of the products of these
hours of play convinced me that he was
possessed of no small share of native
mechanical talent, and I felt sure that he
would make his mark in the world, if
left to follow the bent of his own in-
clination in this particular,

But nothing was farther from the
thoughts of my brother-in-law than con- |
‘sulting either natural inclination or natu- |
ral talent. His creed was that. a boy |
might be made anything you chose to
have him, and he decidedly chose to have}
his boy a-farmer. He wished the snug!
farm he had purchased, with all the im-

rovements he had made, to pass into the

ands of his son, when ‘he should have
-no further use for it. That son must be
a good, thorough, practical farmer. All
this was settled and established long be-
fore our Ned knew the difference bet ween
a hoe and a plane.

Assoonas he was old enough to be
made useful on the farm he was put to
farm-work. While he was a little boy
no notice was taken by his father of his
mechanical sports.
and bits of board would serve for play-
things as well as tops and balls, and Ned
liked them better, it was all well
enough. But as Ned grew older, and his
father discovered that he liked to handle
the hammer much better than tbe hoe,

these amusements began to be regarded
with suspicion.

“T will not have you fooling away your
‘time in this manner,” his father would
say to him when he caught him employed ;
in his favorite occupation. |

I felt it was a mistaken policy, but I
had no right to interfere between father
and son. Ned came to me. with his
troubles, *

I told Ned that he must be patient, |
and very careful not to let these amuse- ,
ments interfere with the work his father |

required of him.
Thus it went on for some time. At last |
Ned became engrossed in the construction |
of a little boat, which he was making in
imitation of one which had been carved
out by a young sailor in the neighbor-
hood. His whole heart was in the work,
-and the execution of it really did him
much credit. I told him that he must
be careful not to neglect his work, or
give his father any cause of complaint,
or he might incur his serious displeas-
ure. He meant to obey me, but one day
he became s) absorbed in his work that
his father called him three times with-
out gaining his attention. :
| “What is that boy about?” he ex-
claimed, impatiently. “I hear him in the
ee. I will see what foolery he is
up to.

My heart misgave me as he took his

_ way to the workshop that Ned had fitted
up for pirosate _ 8o00n I saw him soning
_ back with the boat tn hts hand, followe
by Ned. They came into the kitchen just

as I was setting a pan of biscuit in the

stove oven, .

_ “Here is something which will help
bake vour biaoult,” said roy brether-in

 

If hammer and nails

Goonp

uttered, the stove was opened, and Ned’s
boat thrust in.

I looked at_Ned.. His face wore an ex-
pression _ofsmingled grief and”rage. [
wondered his father could not read there
the nature of his rash act.

A few: minutes later, when Ned had
been sent out on an errand, I ventured to
expostulate.

“Was it not a little too bad?” I «said.
“Ned thought so much of his boat.”

“That is the very thing. He thought
too much of it. He will never be good for
anything, if he is indulged in these
fooleries,”

“T think he has native talent in that
diréction,” I ventured to observe.

“Native talent!” repeated Mr. Thomas.
contemptuously. “He likes fooling with
hammer and nails, or whittling with a
knife, better than work; that is all.”

Poor Ned! He was very fond of warm
biscuit, but I observed that he took cold
bread instead, that night. He could not
forget that his boat had helped bake- the
biscuit.

He came to me for sympathy the first
chance he had.

“Was it not too bad, Aunt Mary?”

“TI was very sorry for you,” I said, with
a hearty sympathy which did him good;
“but you were in part to blame. Your
father called you three times, and you
did not answer. You should not have
allowed yourself to become so absorbed.”

“T know it, aunty; but, oh! it is such
fun, and I do hate work.”

Ned was out of humor, and used strong
language.

-*Hate work! that is bad, indeed,” I
said, reprovingly.

“TI don’t mean quite that, aunty; I
mean I don’t like digging, hoeing, and
plowing. Isn’t it work to make ships,
and houses, and machines?”

“T rather think it is,” I said, laughing.

“But I should like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, Lam sure uf it, aunty.
me, I know it is.”

My judgment told me the boy was
right, though he had reached this con-
clusion by intuition and not by any pro-
cess of reasoning.

Two years later Ned’s conclusions had
taken more distinct form and shape.

“IT don’t want to be a farmer,’ he said
to me one day. “I want to be a mechanic,
There must be mechanics as well as farm-
ers, and why can’t I be one?”

“You can, if you can obtain your fa-
ther’s consent,” I replied.

But this consent was not easily gained.

“If Ned wili not be a farmer, I am re-
solved he shall be a merchant,” said my
brother-in-law to me one day. “There is
my friend Benton, he has made a fortune
in his business.” ,

“Perhaps Ned has no natural talent in
that direction,” I remarked. “I never
knew him trade away so much as a knife.

It is in

|Our thousands of bankrupt merchants
show the folly of entering upon the pur-

suit when one has no talent for it. I
should be sorry to see Ned an unfortu-
nate merchant.”

“Pshaw, Mary! You are riding your
hobby again about native talent. If what
you say is true, one boy ought to be born
with a hammer, another with a book, and
so on. I do not believe a word of all this.
You make a boy anything you choose by
proper education. The parent is much
more capable than the child in decid-

‘ing what his business or profession shall

be. These things should not be left to
childish fancies.”

“Certainly they should not,” I replied;
“but when a child does show a decided
talent in any direction, I. do not think
the fact should be overlooked. It should
have its weight in the decision of the
parent.”

“Tt is all nonsense,” said he, impa-
tiently.

I sighed, and remained silent; for I
saw that my arguments had no weight.
Much I feared that one whom nature had
cut out for a first rate’ mechanic, would
be manufactured into a third or fourth
rate merchant or farmer.

Two years more passed. I saw with
pain that Ned was growing gloomy and
discontented. I tried to make him happy,
but with evident want of success. His
duties about the farm were performed
faithfully, for Ned was not an indolent
boy, but they were performed in a half-
me manner, which showed that his
heart was not in them.

The sullenness deepened in an ominous
manner. At last there was something
mysterious to me in Ned’s appearances,
He was not frank and. open even with
me, who had always been his confidant.
The reserve manifestly increased... It. was
so covert that a less watchful eye would
not have observed it, bnt I saw and felt
it, and it gave me serious uneasiness,

Ned was now seventeen, One rainy
day, when no work on the farm could be
done, he was in his room all the morning.
I heard him walking about a long time,
T know not how it was, bute sud op sus;
Bition, ona Aloagether aow te reg, dartad

 

NEWS.

ish, and tried-to banish it, but could not.
It caused me to watch him when called
to dinwer. Though I addressed him’ sey-
eral times, I ‘ohserved that he never
looked me ‘full in the face, and the
thought pressed upon my mind-that the
time had come when he had something to
conceal even from me, who had always
been more his confidant than his father. ©

After dinners I asked if he would take
the umbrella and go to the store on an
errand for me. The errand was little
more than a pretext to send him from the
house. As soon as he was fairly off, I
hastened to his room. It wore its’ ordi«
nary aspect as I looked around. I pro-
ceeded to examine closet and drawers,
though half-vexed with myself for the
suspicion which prompted the aet.

Soon, however, I missed several articles
of apparel, which» startled .me, and
added vigor to my researches, After
completing my inspection of closet and
drawers, I proceeded to examine closely
the rest of the apartment. At last I
looked under the bed, and there, with a
trembling heart, I discovered the missing
articles, neatly done up in a large bun-
dle. The truth of the suspicion which
had so stangely taken possession of my
mind was verified. Ned was making
preparations to leave home, without the
knowledge of his father or his aunt.

I was not at aloss to understand the
causes which had led to the determina-
tion to take this rash step;-but how was
I to act in this emergency? How, in this
important crisis; could L- best fulfill the
pitta made to his dying mother? I
1ad but little time for reflection, for Ned
would soon return. I must not be found
in his chamber, for I resolved, if possi-
ble, to gain his voluntary confidence.

When he returned he feund me in the
sitting-room, quietly sewing. I invited
him to sit with me, remarking it was a
dull day, and I wanted his company to
enliven me. He was evidently reluctant,
but, as he could think of no good excuse
for refusing, he complied.

After some conversation on different |
subjects, I led him gently on to speak of |
The subject touched his! for myself, These spoke of his hopes and

his mother.
heart. Then T told him how he had been
committed to my charge, and how I had
received him as a sacred trust.

“You are my witness, Ned,” I said,
with deep emotion. “Tell me, have I
kept the promise? Have I fulfilled the
trust?”

Never before had I made this appeal to
him. It moved him greatly.

“Yes, Aunt Mary,” he said, “I can
bear witness that you have. I know not
how a mother could have cared for me
more tenderly,” and his voice trembled.
“YT hope the day may come when I can
make you some return,” he added, ear-
nestly.

“Ned, my dear boy, the day has come
when you can make the return I most de-
sire. Will you do what I ask?”

Ned was a little startled by my manner,

“What can I do for you, Aunt Mary?’
he asked,

“Give me the confidence the son should
give his mother, my dear Ned. A few
short months ago ] felt assured that you
had not a thought ora purpose which
you wished to conceal from your aunt. Is
it so now?” ;

Ned could not meet my gaze, but he an-
swered, with assumed calmness:

“Why, aunty, should you think it is
not so?”

“T have read it in your face for the last
few weeks. Your eye does not meet mine
with the clear, frank confidence of for-
mer days.”

Ned’s eyes sank to the floor, and a deep
flush overspread his face.

“Your tell-tale face is a confirmation
of my statement, my dear boy,” I said;
“and now will you refuse me the con-
fidence I ask, the one favor I crave? By
the memory of that sacred hour when
you were entrusted to my care, I beseech
you to be frank with me, whose /life has
been devoted to the fulfillment of that
sacred promise.”

There was a struggle in Ned’s soul—a
struggle which I could read in his face.
Should he tell me his secret, he believed
that his cherished plan would be frus-
trated; for well he knew that it could.
not meet my sanction. On the other
hand, my appeal to his heart had moved
him greatly. He looked up suddenly.

“Aunty, will my secret be safe with
you?” he asked. .

IT assured him that it would. He hesi-
tated still for a moment, and then he told
me all; how he had resolved, that very
night, to steal from his home, unknown

 

once in that time.

one year. If he would give me this prom-
ise, I pledged myself, on my part, to do
all I-could to further his wishes. He did
not distrust my good-will,-but-he doubted
my ability to influence his father on this —
subject. : a
“Perhaps Ican accomplish more than ~
you think,” I.answered, cheerfully. “But —
even should I fail, in four years you
will be your own master, and have a
right to-choose your own way in life.”
“Four long years!” said Ned, ina de-
sponding manner. eee
“Four years will pass more quickly than
you imagine,” I replied. ela
The result of this long conversation
was, he gave me a promise, which 1 was
not afraid to trust, that he would not
think of leaving home for the next year.
I did not forget my promise to Ned.
sought and obtained the aid of one or
two judicious friends who had great in-
fluence with his father. Our persuasions,
combined with the’earnest pleadings of . —
Ned himself, won at last a reluctant con-
sent, coupled with certain conditions. If
Ned would not be either a merchant or @
farmer, he must not expect any assist-
ance from his father, or trouble him In
any way about money matters. F ¢
Ned gladly availed himself of this con-—
sent, and promised a strict compliance
with the conditions annexed.
I immediately wrote to some friends in
a Western city, requesting their assist-
ance in obtaining a situation for Ned.
The answer was favorable. A situation
had been procured. The first year he
would-only earn his board and. clothing,
but he-would have opportunity to show
whether he possessed mechanical talent.
From my own slender purse I defraye
the expenses to his place of destination,
and Ned left home with a heart beating
high with youthful hopes. He was not
an idle dreamer, for he was willing. to

work hard, and wait patiently for the re- S

sults, as all must do who -wish to meet
with success.

Ned wrote home not unfrequently.
They were letters of general intelligence, —
for the perusal of his father and his aunt,
but oceasionally there was a private note

his prospects. As his father had virtually
forbidden the topic, it was never men-
tioned in the letters tohim. He loved
his work; his whole heart was in it
even when it only brought him food and
clothes.

By and by the little confidential notes
told of the approbation of his employers,
and of an increase of wages beyond what
he had dared to hope. After a while one
little missive whispered a secret. His»
leisure hours were devoted to an experi-
ment—a mechanical contrivance of whic
he wrote enthusiasticall

“Don’t whisper it to fi
eall it folly.”

Of course, it was not whispered to —
father, and even aunty thought it might
end as thousands of such experiments _
have ended, but she had _ confidence —
enough in her nephew that he would gain
some useful lesson even from failure. |

Little more was said of the experimen

for the next three years. Evidently there —

had been disappointments and failures. _
At last came a letter of pegs Hs aS
“It is done, my dear Aunt Mary—it 15
done. My employers say it will be @ —
success, and that I must get a patent; for
it must come into univers] use. Say
peihine to father until such becomes the
ac ie ” » +3 *
Ten years passed away. Ned came home ~
He looked bright and
happy. just after he had
taken out his patent. Not a word re-
lating to his prospects passed between fa-
ther and son. I think he would like to
have known how his son was a ped on, ~
but he was too proud to ask, and Ned was
still hoping to give him the greater sur-
prise some day. a ‘
One day, about four years after Ned’s

That was

visit, a neighbor came in while we were

at dinner.

“Have you heard
Thomas?” he asked.

“What news?”

“Our old friend, Mr. Benton,
failed.” ’

The face of my brother-in-law grew 5°
ashy pale that I was startled. In a mo-
ment he recovered himself, and, with
forced calmness, made various inquiries
relative to the failure. :

A few days later I learned the truth.
My brother-in-law had commenced life
without capital. By prudence and econ: —
guy he bad purchased a farm, to which —

he had added from time to time. Benton
had been his intimate friend from child- |

the news, Mr. ©

has #

to us, and launch his frail bark on the|hood. For years he had been apparently

troubled waters of life.
“T can’t be a farmer, aunty,” he said,
“or a merohant either; and father {js de-
termined that I shall be one or the other,
He willnot ‘let me follow my —s
pursuits even in hours of recreation.
think father is too hard on me.”
We had a long conversation.
obtain from him a peewee that
Qarmiinn lh thotighte of leaving

|
|

j

©
I tried to
he would’ ton, wishing to raise fr
ome for apesulation, from whith he expected to

a@ successful merchant. Aly _brother-in- |
law had sometimes envied him for the
rapidity with which he made money, —
comparing it with his own slow gains. —
Perhaps this was one reason that he was

| so determinsd that Ned should be a mer-

hant. oa :
A year previous to this time, Mr, Ben; |
funds fora business —

 

ather, he would a ?
 

GOOD NEWS.

 

 

realize large profits, had proposed that
» my brother-in-law should indorse a note
for him. As an inducement he had
offered him a share of the profits of the
- investment. |

“This will enable you to buy the or-
‘chard you have so much wished to pur-
chase,” Benton had said. |

This orchard was a very fine one, which
he had long wished and span to pur-
chase. He had great confidence in Ben-

ton, and accepted the proposal, believing
there was little risk and almost sure
profits. But a train of untoward circum-
stances suddenly wound up the firm of
- Benton & Co., and caused my brother-in-
law to lose his farm, which was. his one
year before without debt or incumbrance.

The only resource was to sell the farm.
It was a bitter alternative, but my
brother-in-law was too proad to com-
plain. He was an excellent farmer, but
no business man. He, therefore, placed
the whole business in the hands of the
attorney of our village, who was a warm
friend of the family.

Within a fortnight the place which had
been my home for long years was adver-
tised for sale. ¢

As my brother-in-law sat at the din-
ner-table, in moody silence, on the day

when the advertisement had fallen under
‘my eye, I ventured to observe:

“Why don’t you write to Ned? Per-
chaps the could aid you in this emer-
gency.” ‘

“Pshaw, Mary! Our Ned, what could
-he do?) Ishould not be surprised if he|
owes for the clothes he has on his. back.
All L ask of him is that he will not come
to me for help. Precious little he would
now get if he should,” he added, bitterly.

I said no more; but that. afternoon I
called at the office of Mr. Lane, the at-
torney. ;

“Have you an offer for my brother’s
place?” Iasked. _

“Not yet,” he said.

“Has he not been hasty? I was sur-
prised to see it advertised so soon.”

“Mr. Thomas is a prompt man. He
says there is no help for it, and it may
as well be done first as last. It is an un
fortunate affair. Farmers had better not
meddle in business speculations. But,
perhaps, it is not strange. Every one
had such confidence in Benton.”

“[ have come to ask a favor,” I said.
“Do not sell the farm till Ihave had time
to write to Ned, and get an answer from
him.”

“Do you me he would wish to keep
the place, or that he could do so if he de-
sired it? [ never could find out much how
che was getting along.” : ie

It was not my intentions to enlighten
the attorney too much at that time I
stated that I was anxiousthat Ned should

-know of the contemplated sale before it
‘took place. I succeeded in obtaining a

romise from him that he would not sell

he place till I could hear from Ned, and
‘that he would not inform my brother-in-

law of this interview. ,

A week later I took from the post-office
a letter from Ned. On the evening of
the same day I had a private business in-
terview with Mr. Lane, and found no
difficulty in persuading him to co-operate |
with my plans. ;

A few days later, as evening was set-

ing in, I saw Mr. Lane approaching the
ouse incompany with another gentle-
man. ;

“Mr. Lane is coming; and a stranger
with him,” I quietly remarked to my
brother-in-law. /

“Doubtless it is some one who wishes
to inquire about the farm,” said Mr.
Thomas, calmly; but I saw that his face
grew a shade paler. It was a bitter pill
for him, this entering upon negotiations
for the sale of the dear, old place.

I retired to the next room, but left the

door ajar. *
“TI have found a purchaser for your
farm,” said Mr. ne. “A gentleman
‘residing in the West received from a
friend here a paper containing the ad-
-vertisement for the sale of your place. As{
he wishes to purchase a farm in this vi-
cinity, and as business prevented him
from coming East, he has employed this
gentleman to act as his agent. The offer
-made is liberal, and I have felt so con-
fident of your sanction that the business
is already nearly completed. The money
has been counted out to me, and I have
drawn up the deed. If you approve, you
‘have only to sign the deed and take the
“money.”

- “Tt is done,” said my brother-in-law,
somewhat moodily, as I entered the room
after the gentleman had taken his leave.
“The old place has passed into other
hands.”

_ “Who has purchased it?” I inquired. |
The fact was, my brother-in-law had
not acted with the coolness and delibera-
tion usual with him. He had been so
flurried as to forget tu look at the name
of ‘the future possessor of the farm. He
seemed annoyed, as my question made
him aware of this oversight.

¥“T declare, I cannot tell,” he said, -
Signed the deed without examining {t,

knew it must be all right, as Mr. Lane
drew it up, and I did not at the moment
feel any interest in the name of the pur-
chaser.”

I had'to turn my head -a little to hide
the smile of quiet satisfaction which I
could not quite suppress.

“The purchaser does not wish tc take

ossession under six months,” added my

rother-in-law. “That is well for me. It
will give me time to make arrangements
for the future.”

Two weeks passed, and then Ned made
his appearance. His coming was no sur-
prise to me, but it was to his father.

Not a word was said about the sale of
the place for the first two hours. It was
hard for the proud father to mention his
misfortunes to his son; but he overcame
his reserve on the subject enough to ask
Ned directly how he was getting on.

“Pretty well,” said Ned, modestly,
though there was a significant twinkle
in the corner of the eye next tome. “I
manage to earn my food and clothes.”

“T am gladif you can keep out of debt,”
said his father, somewhat sadly. :

“How does the farm prosper?” said Ned,
in his turn.

This was touching a sore spot. My
brother-in-law could not stand it. He
arose abruptly, and left the room, saying,
as he went out:

“Your Aunt Mary will tell you about

it.

We talked of what we chose when left
to ourselves.

After a time my brother-in-law came
back. Evidently he calculated on our si-
lence, for he had trained us to avoid sub-
jects on which he did not choose to con-

This time his calculations were
at fault.

“Aunt Mary tells me, you have sold the
place,” said Ned:

“Yes,” and that “yes” said as plainly
as could be, “I don’t want. to hear any-
thing about it.”

“Who is the purchaser?”

“Can’t tell you. I know he paid for it
in good money, and that is all that con-
cerns me.”

Ned drew a paper from his pocket and
handed it to his father.

“Is that the deed you signed?” he in-
quired. ;

His father passed his eyes hurriedly
over the document. It was a deed of his
father to Edward C. Thomas, and there,
in its proper place, was his own signa-

ture.
_ “What does this mean?” he said, look-

our faces that helped him to understand
the matter. ;

“Ts it true that I have deeded my farm
to my son? I can hardly believe the evi-
dence of my own eyes,” he said.

“TI believe I may claim the name of Ed-
ward C. Thomas. though here lam much
better known as ‘Our Ned,’ ” was _ the re-

ly.

. “What does all this mean, my son? If
ou
ies the money?”

“A liberal salary as head man in the
establishment, and some’ thousands of
dollars received for my patent, have sup-
plied me with funds sufficient to pur-
chase thi farm and one or two more.”

“Explain yourself,” said the bewildered
father; “I do not understand.”

Ned explained by giving a full history
of his experiences since he left home.

“Aunt Mary wrote me about the farm,
and sent me a paper containing the ad-
vertisement,” he said in conclusion. “I
could not let it go out of the family.
Will you and aunty take care of it for
me? You shall have it on your own
terms.”

His father sat for some time as one in a
maze. His thoughts were traveling over
a space of years. At last he looked up.
He had reached the conclusion of the
whole matter. pee

“T acknowledge my great mistake,” he
said, “I have acted unwisely. Nature
.cut you out for a first-rate mechanic, but
I, in my blind folly, would have made of
you a miserable farmer or an unfortunate
merchant. You were right, and I was
wrong. I did not understand you.”

We still live at the old homestead, and
Ned comes home oncea year, bringing
with him a happy, blooming wife and
three rosy-cheeked children that make

Aunty seems to grow young ‘ain
while listening to their Tneaitie. “s and
hopes that Master Ned will grow up to
be-as good and as useful a man as his
father, the mechanic. ose
_ [THE END.)

<a>

HOW TO MIX PAINTS FOR TINTS.

Red and black make brown; lake and
white make rose; white and brown
make chestnut; white, blue, and lake
make purple; blue and lead color make
earl; white and carmine make pink;
indigo and lamp-black make silver gray;
white and elas make lead color}
black and Venetian ced make shecelate|

 

ersisted Ned..

ing up.
Probably there was something in both |?

urchased the farm, where did you}

the old place ring with gladness. oN

 

white and green make a
ple and white make French white; light
gieen and black make dark green; white
and green make pea green; white and
emerald green make brilliant green; red
and yellow make orange; white and yel-
low make straw color; white, blue, and
black make pearl gray; white, lake, and
vermillion make flesh color; umber,
white, and Venetian red make drab;
white, yellow, and Venetian red make
cream; red, blue and black make olive;
yellow, white, and a little Venetian red
make buff.

~~ ee __——
(This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]

FRANK AND FEARLESS ;

OR THE

FORTONES OF JASPER KENT.

——— +-—-—

BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
Author of ‘‘Grit,” “Only an Irish Boy,” ‘Ragged
Dick.” ‘‘Fame and Fortune,” “Sink or Swim,”
«Tattered Tom,” “Brave and Bold,” ete.
[“FRANK AND FEARLESS” was commenced in No, 43.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. ] }

CHAPTER XXVII.
AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND.

“OLAHREE days and nights passed, and
> Jasper was still in confinement.
Three times a day Nathan came to
bring him his meals. Each time he
asked our hero:
“Are you ready to join our friends?”
And each time Jasper answered :

“You must like staying here,” said the
oldman. -

“IT am very tired of it,” said Jasper,
with a sigh.

“You can come out any. time,” said
Nathan. ;

“Let me out now, then.” ;
“Oh, no, my dear, young friend,” sai
Nathan, shaking his head, “not until you

accept Jack’s offer,” :

“Good Heavens!” thought Jasper, “can
it be possible that in the middle of a
great city I can be imprisoned like this,
with hundreds Baseing the house: every
hour? I wish I could be heard outside.”

But this was impossible, owing to the
peculiar situation of the room. The pros-
pects of our young hero were certainly
loomy enough. But there’s an old «say-
ing, that the darkest hour is just before
the dawn, and deliverance was nearer
than Jasper supposed.

On .the fourth day, at noon, Jasper
heard steps ascending the stairs. e
supposed it to be the old man with his
dinner, and he looked up listlessly, as
the sliding-door was opened. But instead
of the wrinkled face of Nathan he beheld
the fresh face of a young girl. apparently
about sixteen years of age. She regarded
the prisoner with curiosity and surprise.

“Here’s your dinner,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Jasper. “Where is
the old man that generally comes up?”

“Uncle Nathan? Oh, he’s gone out for

little while.”

“He is your uncle, then?”

“Ves.” ‘

“Do you live here?”

“I’ve only just come. He sent for me.
What: do they keep you here for?” she
asked, her face expressing curiosity.
“ Are you sick?”

“T’m sick of being cooped up here.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because [ have to. Your uncle won't
let me out.” ,

“Why not?”

“Hasn’t he told you?”

“No. He only told me to bring ae
your dinner. I thought it was a man.
didn’t know it was a boy.”

“You want to know why I am confined
here?” 7

“Yes, if you'll tell me.”

“Tt is because your uncle is afraid I’ll
inform the police’ against him, and the
men who come here.”

“T don’t know much about them. Are
they bad people, then?”

“I am afraid they are. They do things
that make them liable to be arrested.”

“What! my uncle, too?” asked the
girl, who appeared to be startled.

“T am aoe sure about him, but I feel
sure about twomen who come here. Their
names are Jack and Bill.”

“IT know. I have seen them both. One
is a young man, the other must be near
fifty. He’s stout.”

Yes.”
“How long do you think they will keep
you here?” ;
agree to join them in breaking

“Until I
the laws,” ¥

“That’s too bad,” sald the girl, compas-
ee y- “Isn't it awful to be shut up

ere?”
_ "Yes, it is. I’ve been here three or four
days, and it seems as many weeks. Don’t
you think you could help me to estape?”
asked Jasper, in a lower tons,

 

t green; pur- |

fined longer in his present prison, —

The girl looked frightened.
“TI wouldn’t dare to,” she said.

“Wouldn’t you, if you were sure your oe

uncle wouldn’t find out?” ;
“Yes, I would,” she answered, heartily. —
“Don’t you think you could manage ©
it?” asked Jasper, eagerly.
“I don’t know. I wish I could,” she
answered, with evident sincerity. oa
“Nancy!” called the old man’s voice
from below, sharply, “hasn’t that boy —
got through yet?”
“Coming, uncle,” she answered.
“T’ll speak with you again when I —
bring up your supper,” she said, as she
hurried down stairs.
She left Jasper eager and excited. At
last he had made a friend in the camp of
his enemies, and there was hope ahead.»

CHAPTER XXVIII.
ESCAPE.

(VU ASPER waited impatiently for sup-
A f per-time, not that he was hungry,
for excitement had taken away his
‘ appetite, but because he was fever- _
ish with anxiety as to his prospects of re-
lease.
“Suppose the old man should suspect
her, and come up with the supper him-
self,” he thought, anxiously.
But his anxiety proved groundless.

A little after five the door was opened, a 2 ;

and disclosed the young girl, Nancy. His
face lighted up joyfully.
“I’m glad it’s you, Nancy,”

Does he suspect anything?”
to eat your dinner, that’s al

lon
“Pl take it off the plate, and eat after- __
ward. Now, I want to talk a little.

Have you found out any wayto helpme?” —
“T don’t know. Do you think you could

get out of this window?” ee
Jasper looked at the aperture critically. —
“Yes. Ithink I could,” he said, after
a pause, “with some one on the otherside
to pull me through.” ¥
“T’ll do that,” said Nancy.
“You will? You’re a trump.
am I to do afterward? Can
to leave the house?” eg”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” said _
Nancy. “Iam afraid it wouldn’t do to
let you out at the front door. Jt’s locked |
and bolted, and the bolt squeaks. I’ve ©
tried it to see.” ES
“The windows?”
anxiously. »
“No. Iam afraid not.” 5
“Then if I can’t leave the house, it’s
use to get out of this room.”
“Yes, there’s another way out, but it
requires courage.” eS
“I'm not a coward,” saia Jasper.
“No, you don’t look like it,” said
Nancy, who was more favorably disposed |
toward Jasper on account of his good ©
looks. : ee
“Thank you,” said Jasper, gratified. °
“Now tell me, what is your plan?”
“There's a scuttle through which you
can get out on the roof. Would you dare
to do it?” es
rae I might get on to some other |
roof.”

“Yes, but you might slip off.” ea
“Tam not afraid. You think of that
because you are a girl.” Pe
“Yes. I would rather stay here than

trust myself on the roof.” ear ae
“Do you know if the next house is
higher than this?” EG
“Yes, it is.” 1 ig
“That's very awkward,” said Jasper,
thoughtfully. aes
“But there are some windows in the
side of the house. You might get in at |
one of them.” ict
“And be taken for a house-breaker, ~
Well, I must run the risk any way. |
When do you think I had better try it?” -
“To-night. There’ll be nobody in the
house to-night but uncle and me.” ar
“That’s good,” said Jasper, reflecting —
that Nathan looked feeble, and being
small in size would not be more than a
match for his strength if the worst came —

‘What —
you helpme |

suggested Jasper, 3

no-

to the worst. ee ae
“When does your uncle go to bed?” he
asked. i
“At eleven.”
“When will you come for me?” —
“At twelve, or a little after.” ¥ 3s
“Are the nights dark now?” asked Jas-
per. “It would be rather ticklish being

on the roof if it were pitch dark.

“No, the moon will he up then.”
“That’s all right. If you find out any-
thing else that will help, let me know.
“Yes, I will.” : on
“Nancy !” z mee
“Yes, uncle!” answered the girl. “Te
night at twelve!” she said, in a low.
voice, and hurried down stairs.
_ Jasper, in thinking over the plan- he
had in view, realized that it was one
that would probably ate all his.
age and nerve. It woul a grea
to get through without accident. But he
never thought of backing out. He felt
that anythin was better than to be coti

 

: ; he said,
“I was afraid I should see your uncle.

“No; he scolded me for pare you so nee 4
   

 

 

 

 

a
4
1
i
i
ia

Sot

GooDp

NEWS.

 

It seemed a long time to wait, espec-
fally in the darkness, for the oil was
burned out in his lamp, and there was no
chance of asking for a further supply. He |!
had forgotten it, when Nancy came up
with his supper. However, he felt that
it was of no particular consequence, as
le was so soon to be released.

So the hours passed. He did not per-
mit himself to fall asleep, lest he should
not be awake when Nancy came.

At last he heard a faint noise at the
door, and saw Nancy standing outside
with a candle.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

“Yes, ready and waiting.”

“Now try to get through, and I will
help you.”

She set down the candle, and Jasper set
about his task. It was a tight squeeze,
but.at last he got out, and stood on his
feet in the entry.

“Now, follow me,” said Nancy, in a}
whisper.

He climbed a narrow, steep staircase, |
and then a ladder, and uufastening the)
scuttle, softly laid it back. The moon
shone softly down, bathing the city in its
beautiful light. He. got out lightly on
the roof.

“Good-by!” he said, “and thank you,
N ”

 

ancy.
“Good luck!” said Nancy.

He lowered the scuttle, and sat astride
the roof, considering what to do next.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
JASPER IN A NEW CHARACTER,

TT was a relief to be out of his prison,
E but it must be admitted that Jasper’s
situation was not particularly de-
sirable or agveeable. It was mid-
night, and he was seated astride the roof
of the house which had served as his
prison. There seemed to be no chance to
reach the street, except to slide down the
roof, and that would be certain death. :
Jasner looked about him in great per-
plexity.

As his deliverer had told him, the next
house was a story higher than the one on
whose roof he was seated, and still. more
important, there was a side window
looking out in that direction. When
Peet saw this hope sprang up in his

eart,

the wardrobe, and waited with anxiety
for the arrival of the new-comer.

Through a crevice he saw the entrance
of a stout, good-natured looking young
man, whistling a popular song. He was
probably a clerk or young mechanic, who,
after a hard day’s work, had been to
some cheap place of amusement. Wholly
unconscious of Jasper’s presence, the
young man undressed himself, still con-
tinuing to whistle, and got into bed. It
was so light outside that he had not
lighted the gas.

“I wonder how long it’ll take for him
to get to sleep,” thought Jasper. “I'm
getting tired of being cooped up here.”

Unfortunately for him the young man
seemed to bein no hurry. He whistled
to himself, and occasionally sung in a
low tone. At length Jasper decided to
make a desperate’ move. Observing that
the young man was lying with his face
turned from the wardrobe, he seized his
opportunity, stepped softly out, and
gained the middle of the floor before he
was seen.

The effect upon the young man was
startling. The whistle died away, and
with blanched cheeks and staring eyes he
sat bolt upright in bed.

“Oh, Lord!” he exclaimed, tremulously.
“What are you?”

Not a word escaped from the white
figure, but it solemnly waved its hand.

“Are you a ghost?” asked the young
man, affrighted.

Jasper made a guttural noise, and
waved his arm. again.

“Oh, Lord preserve me!” ejaculated the
young man, shaking with terror. “Go
away, do, good ghost! I haven’t done
anything.”

As he spoke he covered up his head
with the bedclothes, and Jasper could see
by the convulsive movements that he was
in a state of the greatest agitation. Our
hero felt inclined to laugh, but forbore.
He considered whether it would be safe,
disguised as he was, to make his way
down stairs and-out at the front door.
But another course suddenly suggested
itself, The young man looked good-na-
tured. Why shouldn't he reveal himself
to him, and throw himself upon him for
protection? Besides, he was sorry to
frighten him so much.

Acting upon his new resolution, he
threw off the sheet and said, in his natu-

“Tf that window is not fastened I can | ral voice:

get in,” he thought.

“Don’t be frightened. I am not a

He edged his way along to the window, | ghost.”

and found that to reach it he would have

The young man in bed took courage to

to. slide down a little way and catch hold | uncover his head.

of the blind to prevent sliding too far.

“Ain’t you a spirit?” he said, doubt-

“There’s some risk about it,” thought | fully.

Jasper. “Shall I try it?”

“No more than you are,” said Jasper,

I don’t know whether Jasper was jus- | laughing.

tified in taking the risk he did, for there
was great danger of sliding over into the
street. I don’t think I should have ven-
tured to do it, but our hero was fearless

“What made you frighten me so? Who
are you?”

“I’m a friend of yours.”

“TJ don't think I ever saw you before.

and courageous, and he resolved that, as | How did you get in?”

this was the only method of escape, he
would avail himself of it. As a precau-

tion against slipping, however, he took | the young man, wit

off his shoes, and catching the strings in
his teeth, commenced the perilous de-
scent. He succeeded in grasping the
blind, and staying his progress.

“Now, if the window should be fas-
tened, what should I do?” he thought.

But it was not. He succeeded in rais-
ing it, and with a feeling of intense re-
lief made his way into the chamber.

“Through the window.”
“You ain’t a burglar, are you?” asked
fresh apprehension,
“Of course not,” said Jasper, laughing.
“Do I look like a burglar?”
“No; but I don’t see what made you

come in.”

“The fact is, I-want you to help me,”

said Jasper. “Just light the gas, and I’ll

tell you all about it.”
He spoke so frankly and straightfor-

wardly that the young man was reassured.

Then for the first time there flashed | He got out of bed and lighted the gas.

upon him the thought that he had placed

“There! do I look likea burglar?” asked

himself in a very suspicious predicament, | Jasper.

He had entered a house at midnight
through the window.
be taken for a burglar? This was the

Why might he not} you got in.

“No, you don’t; but I don’t see how

“Then I’ll tell you. I’ve just escaped

way a burglar was likely to enter, and if | from the next house.”

he should be caught here his explanation
would be considered very unsatisfactory.

“Escaped?”
“Yes. I was locked up in a dark room

Jasper, -brave as he was, was startled | for four days, and the only way I could

by this thought, while simultaneously |

get away was through the roof. Of

the difficulty of escape was forced upon | course, I couldn’t slide off into the street

him.
disturbance,

It was a small attic chamber. There

was abed in the room, a wash-stand, a} man.
and a clothes-press. | Was it your father?”

couple of chairs,
This being open revealed afew clothes
belonging, apparently, to a man.

“Why isn’t he here?” thought Jasper;
“and what shall I do if he comes?”

Though his stery was true, he never- | into the street.”

theless felt that it was improbable, and

He looked about him in mental|and break my neck; so I got in here
through the window.”

“You don’t say?” ejaculated the young
“What did they shut you up for?

“No. It’s along story. I knew some-

thing they were afraid I would tell.”

“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to ask you to let me out

“What! so late as this! You would

before be could tell it he thought it likely , have to stay out all night.”

that an alarm would be given, resulting }

“That would be better than to be locked

in his being consigned to the care of the up as I have been for the last four days.”

police.
An idea came to him.
He opened the bed, drew out one of the

 

“Suppose you wait till morning. This

bed is big enough for both of us.”

“Thank you. I should like that, and

sheets, and arrayed himself in it, after shall be much obliged to you.”

carefully folding back the quilt.

“You are sure you are not a burglar!”

“Now,” he said to himself, “if it is said the young man, witha brief return

I can make,”

_nevessary, I will see what sort of a ghost | of his former suspicion,

“Neither a burglar nora ghost,” said

Hardly had he done this than he heard ; Jasper.

steps ascending the stairs. Jasper had |
little doubt that it was the occupant of |

“What made you put on the sheet?”
“T was afraid you would take me fora

the chamber which he had so unceremo- | burglar, soI meant to frighten you and

niously entered,

thought.

He managed to squeeze himself into a spirit.”

escape, concluding you would be afraid
“T’ll get into the wardrobe if I can,” he to pursue me.”

“That’s so. I really thought you were

“If you think so now, just feel my
muscle,” said Jasper, smiling.

“J don’t think so now.”

“If I am to sleep with you, here is your
sheet. We can make better use of it than
in masquerading as ghosts.”-

Jasper undressed himself and got into
bed. He learned that his companion’s
name was Adam Diedrich, and that he
kept a small cigar store near by.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
AN INGENIOUS TRICE.

HOW TO BALANCE SUCCESSFULLY A LEAD-
PENCIL ON ITS POINT.

Insert the blade of a pen-knife into a
pencil, then bend the blade slowly and
carefully toward the handle, until the
proper equilibrium is found. :

 

Something Queer About Mirrors,

@r- ys ‘ .
VERY boy and girl knows that a
fd) looking-glass or mirror gives a re-
: flected picture of anything placed
before it. How and why is not so

well known, and, when we do know, the
glass serves to show a number of tricks
and freaks that are as queer as they are
interesting. ‘To examine all that a mir-
ror will do would take a whole page of
Goob NrEws, and might tire you all out;
so we will only look at one of these
things, and even that will be enough to
excite your curiosity and wonder. At
first, mirrors were made of bright, pol-
ished metals, but now they are all made
of glass, A piece of clean glass is laid
down onasmooth table, and over it is
spread a thin sheet of quicksilver. When
it is finished the glass is turned over and
the silvering becomes the back of the
mirror, and in looking at it we look
ne the glass and see ourselves re-
flected in the bright sheet of quicksilver
behind it. To prove this, you have only
to touch the point of a pin to the glass,
and you will see that the point of the pin
and the point of the reflected pin do not
touch, but that there is a little space be-
tween them. The glass comes between,
and the space is just as wide as the glass
is thick. Touch the pin to the bright
surface of a silver spoon or a brass lamp,
and you will see that the two points come
together exactly. This shows that here
the reflection is on the outside, instead of
at the back, as in the mirror.

When you see yourself in the looking-
glass it seems as if there was only one
reflection, but there are really several,
one behind the other. As one is very
much brighter and plainer than the
others, our attention is all taken up with
that, and we do not notice the others. A
mirror is made of glass with a silvered
back, and the silvering gives us the pict-
ure, but the glass also reflects two or
three times over. Take a strip of stiff
paper, light one end, and when it is well
on fire blow it out so as to leave the end
like a smoldering brand or hot coal.
Stand before the mirror and hold this
close up to the glass, and about the level
of the waist, and you will see that the
slender line of fire is repeated three times
in the mirror. In the center is a bright
reflection, below it is another, not quite
so bright, and above is a still fainter one.

Now, where do these reflections come
from? The brightest one is from the
silvering, the fainter one is from the out-
side surface of the glass, and the faintest
of all is from the inside of the glass. To
understand this, let us look at this draw-
ing that gives a diagram ofthe mirror,

 

FZ LLL Lh he erhalten the

and the single line drawn from C shows
the ray of light going to the glass. Part
of this light is reflected in the line
marked 1. The rest of the light follows
the dotted line through the glass, and
then r turns over the next dotted line,
and coming out of the glass fol'ows the
line marked 2. At the same time, part of
this reflected light is reflected back again
from the inner side of the glass, and
going back it strikes the silver again,
and is once more reflected and follows
line 3.

To understand how the inside of a piecé
of — will refiect light you have only
to fill a clear glass goblet with water,
and holding it over your head look up at
the under side of the surface of the
water. It seems to be a sheet of melted
silver so light is the reflection. - Dip your
Singer in the water while thus holding it,
and you will see your finger actually re-
flected on the under side of the water.
Stand in front of a window on a moon-
light night when the moon is just rising,
and look at the dark window, and you
will see two moons reflected in the glass.
One of these is reflected from the outside
of the glass, the other is from the inside
of the glass at the back.

As we look at the reflections of the
burning paper we see that they are not
equally bright. To understand this look
at the drawing again. The light from
C is first reflected from the outside, but
as the glass is a poor reflector the greater
part of the light slips through and is re-
turned from the silver. hen at the
third reflection only a very little is kept
back, the greater part escapes again at
line 2, so that there is really only a very
little left to make reflection No. 3. This
is not by any means all that we might
learn from a looking-glass. You will no-
tice that the line in the drawing is bent
as it enters the glass, and that the first
reflection is exactly a right angle. These
things are quite as strange as the three
reflections, and, perhaps, another time
we will get up some experiments to show
what they mean.

 

TRICKS WITH PAPER RINGS.

A great many curious tricks may be
performed with the aid of paper and a
pair of scis-
sors. We will
describe two or
three. Take
three bands of

aper two
inches wide,
and from two
to five feet
long, and with
one form aring
as shown in
Fig. 3. Before
pasting the
ends of a sec-
ond ring made
from another
strip, give the
strip a single
twist as in Fig,
1, and before
joining the
third ring give
the soe two twists as in Fig. 2. If ring
3 is cut by scissors along the dotted line,
we get two rings, shown in Fig: 3’.
we do the same to Fig. 1 we get a single
long ring, 1’; and if we do so with Fig
2 we get two rings linked, ag in Fig. -2’
Simple tricks like these oceasion much
amusement, especially among young peo-

ple.

 

 

 

 

 

———_—_+-0-e

A SAFETY OMNIBUS.

An arangement for preventing the
overturning of omnibuses and other road
vehicles in case of the breakage of a
wheel or an axle, or of the drawing of
an axle box, was recently put success-
fully through its trials. The invention
consists of four supports attached to an
axle, one being placed just inside each
of the four wheels. Each support has at
the bottom a small solid wheel or roller,
which normally is about an inch above
the road surface. Upon either of the
wheels coming off, the support next to it
comes into play, and the vehicle runs
upon the three remaining wheels and one
of the small wheels. In the recent trials
an omnibus fitted with the safety ap-
pliances, and having all four wheels
loose on the axles was filled with pas-
sengers inside and out; it was then driven
about at good speed on rough places in
the roadway, and over train rails in zig-
zag fashion until one or more of the
wheels came off, when it was driven back
to the starting-point without the pace
being slackened. A number of runs were
made, all the wheels in one instance
coming off and the omnibus returning on
the rollers only. No violent shock was
experienced on a wheel coming off, nor
was there in any case serious lurching,

 

Here A stands for the thick piece of
glass, and B is the film of silver at the

 

 

back. The bit of burning paper is at C,

even when on a sidelong slope. It is
stated that the experiments were in every
way successfi1], and so far show that the
appliance fulfills its intended purpose,

¢ ‘ pa wht ee 57
a .
Poe yy eS

x

/

   

    
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
     
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
   
  
  
    
     
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
     
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
     
   
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
    
  
 

 

‘

oceania enemeetnctnemnetasen tate
y. .

er Sy

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

  

GOOD NEWS.

805

 

CHIMES OF THE CLOCK.

_—

BY J. G. HUNT.

ee

What says the clock when it strikes one?
Watch says the clock, oh, watch little one.

What says the clock when it strikes two?
Love God little one, for God loves you.

Tell me gently what it whispers at three ?
It is “Suffer little children to come unto me.”

Then come gentle lambs and wander no more,
"Nis the voice of the Shephard that calls you at four.

And, oh, let your young hearts with gladness re-
vive,
When it echoes so sweetly, ‘‘God bless you,” at five

 

And remember at six, at the fading of day,
That your life is a vapor that tadeth away.

And what says the clock when it strikes seven ?
Of such is the Kingdom—the Kingdom of Heaven.

And what says the clock when it strikes eight ?
Strive, strive to enter in at the beautiful gate.

And louder, still louder if calls you at nine,
My Son, give me that heart of thine,

And such be your voices, responsive at ten,
Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna! Amen!

And loud let the chorus ring out at eleven,
Of such is the Kingdom—the Kingdom of Heaven.

When the deep strokes at midnight—the watch-
word shall ring.

“Lo! these are my jewels, these, these,” said the
King.

 

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

AMONG THE BSQUIMAUY:
‘hivetues Unier the Artic Ciel

By EDWARD §S. ELLIS.
Author of ‘‘Ransomed,” “Enola,” etc., etc.

>

(“AMONG THE EsQUIMAUX” was commenced in No, 49.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

-

CHAPTER VII.
A POINT OF LIGHT.

( ) ACK COSGROVE was awake on the
oh instant. Not until he had groped

 

 

 

 

 

 

around in the darkness and repeated

the name of Fred several times in
a loud voice would he believe he was not
with them,

“Well, by the great horned spoon!” he
exclaimed, “that beats everything. How
that chap got away, and why he done it,
and where he’s gone to gets me.”

“I wonder if he took his gun,” added
Rob, stooping over and examining the
depression in the ice, where the three laid
their weapons before composing them-
selves for sleep; “yes,” he added directly
after, “he took his rifle with him.”

As may be supposed, the two were in a
frenzied state of mind, and for several
minutes were at a loss whut to do, if, in-
deed, they could do anything. They knew
not where to look for their missing friend,
nor could they decide as to what had be-
come of him.

One fearful thought was in the minds
of both, but neither gave expression to
it; each recoiled with a snudder from
doing so. It was that he had wandered
off in his sleep and fallen into the sea.

Despite their distress and dismay, they
noticed several significant facts. The
wind that blew like a hurricane when
they closed their eyes, had _ subsided.
When they stood up, so that their heads
arose above the projections that had pro-
tected them, the breeze was so gentle that |
it was hard to tell from which direction
it came. It would be truth to say there
was no wind at all.

Further, there was a marked rise in
the temperature. In fact, the weather|
was milder than any experienced after
leaving St. John, and was remarked by
Rob.

“You don’t often see anything of the
kind,” replied the sailor; “though I call
something of the kind to mind on that}
voyage in these et in the Mary Jane,
which was smashed by the iceberg.”

But their thoughts instantly reverted
to the missing boy. Rob had shouted to.
him again and again in his loudest tones, '
had whistled until the echo rang in his
own ears, and had listened in vain for
the response.

The tumultuous waves did not subside’
as rapidly as they arose. They broke
against the walls of the iceberg with de-
creasing power, but With a boom and
crash that it would seem threatened to
shatter the vast structure into frag-|
ments. There were occasional lulls 4
the overpowering turmoil, which were’
used hoth by Rob and Jack in calling to
the missing one, but with no result,

“Tt’s no use,” remarked the sailor, after
they had tired themselves pretty well
out; “wherever he is, he can’t hear us.”

“T wonder if he will ever be able to
hear.us,” said Rob, in a choking voice,

 

 

 

   

peering around in the gloom, his eyes
and ears strained to the highest tension.

“I wish I knew,” replied Jack, who,
though he was as much distressed as his
companion, was too thoughtful to add to
the grief by any words of hisown. “I
hope the lad is asleep somewhere in these
parts, but I don’t aoe nothing more
about him than you.”

“And I know-nothing at all.”

“Can you find out what time it is?”

That was easily done. Stooping down
so as to protect the flame from any
chance eddy of wind, Rob ignited a match
on his clothing and looked at his watch.

“We slept longer than I imagined,
Jack; daybreak isn’t more than tl ree or
four hours off.”

“That’s good, but them hours will seem
the longest that you ever passed, my
hearty.”

There could be no doubt on that point,

as affected both.
called out Rob, “the

“Why, Jack,”
stars are shining.

“Hadn't you observed that before? Yes;
there’s lots of the twinklers out, and the
storm is gone for good.”

Every portion of the sky except the
northern showed the glittering orbs, and,
for the moment, Rob forgot his grief in
the surprise over the marked change in
the weather.

“This mildness will bring another
change afore along,” remarked Jack.

“What’s that?”

“Fogs. We'll catch it inside of twenty-
four Rates: and some of them articles in
this part of the world will beat them in
London town; thick enough for you to
lean against without falling.”

 
 

 
 
 
  

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lustily, varying the cries as fancy sug-
gested. In addition, Jack fired his gun
several times.

While thus busied, they kept their gaze
upon the star-like point of light on which
their hopes were fixed.

It maintained the same dancing mo-
tion, all the while pushing forward, for
several minutes after the emission of the
signals.

“She has stopped!” was the joyful ex-
clamation of Rob, who postponed a shout
that was trembling on his lips ; “they
have heard us and will soon be here.”

Jack was less hopeful, but thought his
friend might be right. The motion of the
star from left to right had almost ceased,
as if the boat was coming to a halt. Still
the sailor knew that the same effect on
their vision would be produced if the
vessel headed either away from or toward
the iceberg; it was one of these changes
of direction that he feared had taken
place.

Up and down the light bobbed out of
sight for asecond, then gleaming brightly
as if the obscuring clouds had been
brushed aside from the face of the star,
which shone through the intervening
gloom like a beacon. to the wanderer.

“Yes, they are coming to us,” added
Rob, forgetting his lost friend in his ex-
citement; -“they will soon be here;
wonder they don’t hail us.”

“Don’t be too sartin, lad,” was the an-
swer of the sailor; “if the boat was going
straight from us, it would seem for a
time as though she wascoming this way;
I b’lieveshe has changed her course with-
out a thought of us.”

They were cruel words, but, sad to say,

   

 
    
 
 
  
  

 
 
  

| vn

 

   
    
     
       
 
   
 
   
  
  
 
 

 

“on JACK! WE'RE LOST! WE'RE LosT!

As the minutes passed, with the couple
speculating as to what could have hap-
pened to Fred Warburton, their uneasi-
ness became so great that they could not
remain idle. They must do something
or they would lose command of them-
selves,

Rob waz on the point of proposing a
move, with little hope of its amounting
to anything, when the sailor caught his
arm.

“Do you see that?”

The darkness had so lifted that the
friends could distinguish each other’s
forms quite plainly, and the lad saw that
Jack had extended his arm, and was
pointing out .to sea. The fellow was
startled, as he had good cause to be.

Apparently not far off was something
resembling a star, low down in the hori-
zon and gliding over the surface of the
deep. Now and then it disappeared, but
only fora moment. At such times it was
evidentty shut from sight by the crests of
the intervening waves,

It was moving steadily from the right
to the left, the friends, of course, being
unable to decide what points of the com-
pass these were, Its motion in rising and
sinking, vanishing, and then coming to
view again, advancing steadily all the
while, left no doubt as to its nature.

“Tt’s the Nautilus!” exclaimed Rob;
“Captain McAlpine is looking for us.”

“That’s not the Nautilus.” said Jack;
“for she doesn’t show her lights in that
fashion. Howsumever, it’s a craft of some
kind, and, if we can only make '’em
know we're here, they’ll lay by and take
us off in the morning.”

 

HEAVEN HELP US!”

they proved true. The time was not long
in coming when all doubt was removed.
The star dwindled to a smaller point
than ever, seemed longer lost to view,
until finally it was seen no more,

“Do you suppose —_ heard us?” asked
Rob, when it was no longer possible to
hope for relief from that source.

“eOf course not; if they had, they would
have behaved like a Christian, and stood
by and done what they could.”

“Ships are not numerous in this lati-
tude, and it may be along time before
we see another.’

“The chances p’int that way, and yet
you know there’s a good many settle-
ments along the Greenland coast. It
isn’t exactly the place I’d choose for a
winter residence—especially back in the
country—but there are plenty who like it.”

“In what way can that affect us?”

“There are ships passing back and forth
between Denmark and Greenland, and a
number v’yage to the United States,
and I’m hoping we may be run across by
some of them—— Hark!”

CHAPTER VIII.
HOPE DEFERRED.

HOARSE, tremulous sound came
across the ocean, There was no

\\ mistaking its character; it was

- from the whistle of a steamer, the
one whose light led them to hope for a
time that their rescue was at hand. It
sounded three times, and. evidently the
blasts were intended as a signal, though,

  

|of course, they hore no reference to the

As the only means of reaching the ears two persons listening so intently on the

!

of the strangers, the two began shouting iceberg.

 

“That was the last thing I expected to
hear in this latitude,” remarked Rob,
turning to his companion.

“I don’t know why,” replied Jack;
“they have such craft plying along the
Greenland coast. What's more, I’ve
heard that Same whistle before and know
the boat; it’s the Fox.”

“Not the Fox I have read about as hav-
ing to do with the Franklin expedition?”
said the youth, in astonishment,

“The identical craft.”

“You amaze me.”

Those of my readers, who are familiar
with the history of Arctic exploruion,
will recall this familiar name. It was
the steam tug in which sailed the party
that succeeded in finding traces of the
ill-fated Franklin expedition of near a
half century ago. It afterward came into
the possession of the company that owns
the cryolite mine at Ivigtut, and is now
used to carry laborers and supplies from
Copenhagen to that place. While at Ivig-
tut, it is occasionally employed to tow
the Greenland ships in and out of the
fiord.

Ah, if its crew had only heard the
shouts and signals of the couple on the
iceberg, how blessed it would bave been!
But its lights had vanished long ago,
and, if its whistle sounded again, it was

I |so far away that it could not reach the
| listening ears.

The restlessness of the friends, to which
I have referred, now led them toattempt a
search, if it may so be called, for the miss-
ing Fred. This of necessity was vague
and blind, and was accompanied with but
a grain of hope. Neither had yet referred
to the awful dread that was in their
thoughts, but weakly trusted they might
find the poor fellow somewhere near
asleep or senseless from a fall.

Morning was still several hours dis-
tant, but the clearing of the air enabled
them to pick their way with safety, so
long as they took heed to their footsteps.

“T will go down toward the spot where
the boat gave us the slip,” said Jack,
“and I don’t know what you can do, un-
less you go with me.”

“There’s no need of that; of course I
can’t make my way far, while the night
lasts, but I remember that we penetrated
some way beyond this place before camp-
ing for the night; I'll try it.”

“Keep a sharp lookout, my hearty, or
there’ll be another lad lost, and then
what will become of Jack Cosgrove?”

“Have no fear of me,” replied Rob, set-
ting out on the self-imposed expedition.

He paused. a few ateps away and turned
to watch the sailor, who was carefully de-
scending the incline, at the base of which
they had Janded.

“T hope he won’t find Fred, or rather
that he won’t find any signs of his havy-
ing gone that way,” said Rob to himself
with a shudder.

As the figure of the man slowly re-
ceded, it grew more indistinct until it
faded from sight in the gloom. Still the
youth looked and _ listened for the words
which he dreaded to hear above every-
thing else in the world.

Jack Cosgrove received a good scare
while engaged on his perilous task, He
was half-way down the incline, making
his way with the caution of a timid
skater, when, like a flash, his feet flew
from under him, and, falling upon his
| back, he slid rapidly toward the waves at
‘the base of the berg.

But the brave féllow did not lose his
coolness or presence of mind. His Jeft
hand grasped his rifle, and, throwing out
his right, he seized a projection of ice,
checking himself within a few feet of the
water and near enough for thespray from
the fierce waves to be flung over him.

“This isn’t the time for a hath,” he
muttered, carefully climbing to his feet
and retreating a few paces; “it would
have been a pretty hard swim out there
with my heavy clothing, though I think
I could manage it.”

After all, what could he hope to accom-

lish by this hunt for Fred Warburton?
Ff the lad had wandered in that direction
and fallen into the sea, he had left no
traces that could. be discovered in the
gloom of the night. He could not have
gone thither and stayed there, that was
certain.

The sailor having withdrawn beyond
the reach of the waves, sat down in as
disconsolate a mood as can be imagined.
A suspicion that Rob might follow
caused him to turn his head and look
over his shoulder.

“I don’t see anything of him, and I
guess he’ll stay up there; I hepe so, for
Jack Cosgrove isn’t in the mood to see or
talk with any one ’cepting that lad which
he won’t never see nor talk to agin.”

Convincing himself that he was safe
against a visit from the elder youth, the
sailor bowed his head, and, for several
minutes, wept like one with an uncon-
trollable grief.

When his sorrow had partially sub-
sided, he spent a brief while with his
head still bowed in communion with his
Maker.

“I don't know but what the lad ig

 

 

    

    
   
  
  
   
   
    
   
  
 
   
  
 
   
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
    
   
   
  
      
 

 

_. false hope for a minute even.

Goop

NEws.

 

luckier than me or Rob,” he added, re-
viewing the situation in his mind; “for
we've got to foller him sooner or later.
It isn’t likely that any ship will come as
nigh to this thing as the Fox did awhile
ago, and I can’t see one chance in ten
thousand of our being took off. We
haven’t a mouthful of food, and there’s
no way of our getting any. After a time
we will have to lay down and starve or
freeze to death, or both. Poor Fred has
- been saved all that——”

He checked his musings, for at that
moment a peculiar sound broke upon his
ear. It resembled that caused by the ex-
haust of a steamer at low pressure. One

_ less experienced than he would have been
. deceived into the belief that such -was its
source, but Jack did not hold any such
He under-
. stood it too well.
it was made bya whale “blowing.” One
. of those monster animals was disporting
-himself in the vicinity of the iceberg,

_. and the sailor had heard the same sound

: too often to mistake it.

 Shifting' his position so as to bring him
_ rmearer the sea, he stooped and peered out
:in the gloom, in the direction whence

-. came the noise.

There was enough star-
‘light for him to trace the outline of the
»mountainous waves, as they arose against

ithe sky, though they were dimly defined

:and might have misled another.
While gazing thus, a huge mass took
vague form. It was the head of a gigan-
-tie leviathan of the deep, which for a mo-
‘ment was projected against the sky and
‘then sank out of. sight, with the same
moise that had attracted Jack’s notice in

tthe first place.

_. fhas come to take us off, and we’re done was only

book A

i

‘The blowng was heard at intervals, for
several minutes, until the distance shut
it from further notice.

- “T wonder if Rob noticed it,” the sailor
asked himself; “for, if he did, he will
make the mistake of believing the Fox

with this old berg.”
ut nothing was heard from the youth,
and the sailor remained seated on the

_ shelf of ice, a prey to his gloomy reflec-!

tions. He had made up his mind to stay

_ where he was until the coming of day,

when the question of what wasto be
- done would be speedily settled.

Meanwhilé, he wanted no company but

his own thoughts. He had kept up with

the elder youth, and carefully withheld

He felt

his fears and beliefs from him.
The farce

that he could do so no longer.

had been played out, and the truth must

of time. Jac

al

_ be spoken.

It was meee to note the passage
carried no watch, but each
- of the boys owned an excellent timepiece.

He probably fell into a doze, for, when

he roused himself once more, he saw that

-—-yisin

the night was nearly over,
hh

“T wonder what Rob is doing,” he said,
to his feet, stretching his arms

and looking in the direction where he ex-
b — to see his friend; “I hope nothing
a

in’t happened to him.”

his affliction was spared the sailor,

_. for while he was peering through the in-

- creasing light, he caught sight of the

figure of Rob making his way toward

im.
beng “Hello, Jack, have you found any-
. thing?”

“No; have you?”
“J think I have: come and see.”

CHAPTER IX.
A STARTLING OCCURRENCE.

S may be supposed, Jack Cosgrove
was all excitement on the instant.
He had not expected any such re-

i Ply, and he was eager to learn the

s

he started forward, he in-
_ stinctively glanced down in quest of evi-
_ dence that Fred had passed there. There

was none so farashe could see, and, if
there had been, it is not likely he would
have been able to identify it, since all the

party had been over the same spot, and

to look aroun

“alon

ae
"; a

some of them more than once.
_ “What is it?” he asked, as he reached
his friend. —
“It may mean nothing, but a little dis-
- tance beyond where we camped the ice is
~ broken and scatched as though some one
has been that way.”

“So there has, we were there yesterday |

rnoon,”
 “T haven’t forgotten that, but these
marks are at aplace where we haven’t

b been, that is unless it was Fred.”

How did you manage to find them in

I didn’t; I groped over the ice as far

I could, and then sat down and waited

for day. I must have slept awhile, but

it was growing light I happened

a and there, within a few

eet of me, on my right hand, I noticed

he ice scratched and broken, as though

-one had found it hard work to get

g. I was about to start right after

I thought it best to tarry for

rou, It is now so much Hghter that we
11] learn something worth knowing.”

in thelr excitement they pauaed

a few minutes to gaze out upon the ocean,
as it was rapidly illumined by the rising
sun. Before long their vision extended
for miles, but the looked-for sight was
not there. On every hand, as far as eye
could penetrate, was nothing but his
heaving expanse of icy water.

Whether they were within a compara-
tively short distance of Greenland or not,
they were not nigh enough to zatch the
first glimpse of the coast. ;

Several miles to the eastward towered
an iceberg, apparently as large as the one
upon which they were drifting. Its pin-
nacles, domes, arches, plateaus, spires,
and varied forms sparkled and scintil-
lated in the an sunlight, displaying
at times all the colors of the spectrum,
and making a picture beautiful beyond
description.

To the northward and well down in the
horizon, was another berg, smaller than
the first, and too far off to attract inter-
est. A still smaller one was visible mid-
way between the two, and a peculiar ap-
pearance of the sea in the same direction,
Jack said, was caused by a great ice field.

Not a ship was to be seen anywhere.
Their view to the southward was ex-
cluded by the bulk of the iceberg, on
which they were floating.

“There’s nothing there for us,” re-
marked Rob with a sigh.

“You’re right; lead the way and let’s
see what you found,”

| It took them but a few minutes to reach
the place the lad had in mind, and they
had no sooner done so than the sailor
was certain an important discovery had
been made.

Where there was so much irregularity
of shape as on an iceberg, a clear descrip-
tion is impossible; but, doing the best

| we can, it may be said that the spot was
a hundred feet back from where the three
huddled together with the expectation
of spending the night until morning. It

a little higher, and was at-

|tained by carefully picking one’s way

over the jagged ice, which afforded se-
cure footing, now that day had come.

Adjoining the place, from which the
party diverged to the left, was a lift or
shelf on the right, and distant only two
or three paces. It was no more than
| waist high, and, therefore, was readily

reached by any one who chose to clamber
upon it,

It is no easy matter to trace one over
the ice, but the signs of which Rob had
spoken were too plain to be mistaken.

here were scratches, such as would have
been made by a pair of shoes, a piece of
the edge was broken‘ off, and marks be-
yond were visible similiar to those which
it would be supposed oe one would
make in clambering over the flinty sur-
face.

Jack stood a minute or two studying
these signs as eagerly as an American
Indian might scrutinize the faint trail of
an enemy through the forest.

“By the great horned spoon!” he finally
exclaimed; “but that does look encourag-
ing; I shouldn’t wonder if the chap did
make his way along there in the night,
but why he done it only he can tell.
Howsumevrer, where has he gone?”

That was the question which Rob Car-
rol had asked himself more than once,

{and was unable to answer. The ice, for
a distance of another hundred feet, looked

|as if it might be scaled, but, just beyond
that, towered a perpendicular wall, like
the side of a glass mountain. There could
be no progress any farther in that direc-
tion, nor, so far as could be judged, could
any one advance by turning to the right

or left.

There must be numerous. depressions
and cavities, sufficient to hide a dozgn
men, and it was in one of these the couple
believed they would find the dead or
senseless body of their friend.

| “Jack,” said Rob, “take my gun.”

' “What for?”

“T’ll push on ahead as fast as I can; I
can’t wait, and the weapon will only hin-
der me.”

| “T’ve an idee of doth something of the
kind myself, so.we’ll leave ’em_ here,

don’t think they’ll wash away like the

boat,” he added, as he carefully placed
them on the shelf, up which they pro-
ceeded to climb.

But Rob was in advance and main-
tained his place, gaining all the time
upon his slower companion, who allowed
him to draw away from him without
protest. ‘
| “There’s no need of a chap tiring him-

self to death,” concluded Jack, as he fell
back to a more moderate pace; “he’s
younger nor me, and it won’t hurt him
to get a bump or so.”

Rob was climbing with considerable
skill. In his eagerness he slipped several
times, but managed to maintain his foot-
ing and to advance with a steadiness
which caused considerable admiration on
the part of his more sluggish companion.

He used his eyes for all they were
worth, and the signs that had roused his
hope at first were still seen at intervals,
and cheered him with the growing belief
that be was on the right track,

\

 

“But why don’t we hear something of
him?” he abruptly asked himself, stop-:

ing short with shuddering dread in his |

eart; “he could not have remained asleep |
all this time, and, if he has been hurt so
as to make him senseless, more than
likely he is dead.”

The youth was now nearing the ice
wall, to which we have referred, and _be-
yond which it looked impossible to go.
The furtive glances into the depressions
on his right and left showed nothing of
his loved friend, and the evidences of his
progress were still in front.. The solution
of the singular mystery must be at hand.

Unconsciously Rob slowed his foot-
steps, and looked and listened with
greater care than before.

“What can it mean? Where can he
have gone} I see no way by which: he
could have pushed farther, and yet he is
not in sight——“

He paused. for he discovered his error.
The path, if such it may be termed,
which he had been following, turned so
sharply to the right, that it could not be
seen until one was upon it. How far it

enetrated in that direction remained to

e learned.

Rob turned about and looked at Jack,
who was several rods to the rear, making
his way upward with as much  delibera-
tion as though he felt no personal inter-
est in the business.

“I’m going a little farther, Jack, but I
think we’re close upon him now. Hurry
after me!”

“Ay, ay,” called the sailor, in return;
“when you run afoul of the lad give him
my love and tell him I’m coming.”

‘his remark proved that he sbared. the
hope of Rob, who was now acting the
part of pioneer, and it did not a little to
encourage the boy to push on with the
utmost vigor at his command.

The sailor was somewhat winded from
his funusual exertions, and, believing
there was no immediate need of his help,
sat down for a few minutes to regain his
breath.

“He'll yell the moment he catches sight
of anything, and he can do that so well
that he don’t need any help from me—by
the great horned spoon! what’s the mean-
ing of that?”

Rob Carrol, who had been out of sight
but a few seconds, now burst to view
again, the picture of terror. He was
plunging toward the sailor with such
desperate haste that he continually stum-
bled and bruised himself, But he in-
stantly scrambled up again, glancing in
uarehal fright over his shoulder, and
barely able to gasp as he dashed toward
the sailor:

“Oh, Jack! we’re lost! we’re
Heaven help us!”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
——__—__~+-e-»______

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

TEDDY'S VENTURE;

The Adventures of a Country Boy
at a Country Fair.

—— @§ ——

By JAMES OTIS.

>

(“Leppy’s VENTURE” was commenced in No. 48.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER VU.
THE CLERK.

HEN Teddy recovered from the
vicious blow ‘which had ren-
dered him unconscious, he saw
Dan lying un the ground beside
him; but no one else was near.

It was as if they had been fighting
with phantoms of the brain, save for the
fact that both bore the most indisputable
signs of having been assaulted by beings
of true flesh and blood.

One of Dan’s eyes was closed as if by a
violent, blow, and Teddy bled freely from
the ear, the crimson fluid telling elo-
quently of the exact location of that su-
perior force which had caused so many
stars to dance before his mental vision.

“We got through with that part of it
mighty quick,” Dan_ said, rvefully, as he
rose to his feet. “There wasn’t anything
slow about the way they struck out after
we made fools of ourselves by running
into them, eh?”

“T don’t understand how it all hap-
pened, It wasn’t more than three seconds
from the time I first saw them before
there was a regular set of fire-works
dancing in front of my eyes.”

“Tt so Heppane that they saw us first,”
Dan replied, as he rubbed his head.
“Those men were the thieves, and what I
said showed them that we were on the
scent.”

“Where are they now?”

“You'll have to ask that question of
some one else,” Dan said, with a grim-
ace of pain, “The last thing I know was
when the tall fellow landed one square
on my nose, and hefore I recovered both

lost!

45)

 

were out of sight. We have done harm
rather than good, for now they know we
overheard the conversation,.an’ we’hH be
mighty lucky if this is all we get before
the fair comes to an end.”

“Suppose we tell the police now?”

“What can you say to them? We heard
those men talking about something which
may have had nothing to do with the
robbery, and want to have them arrested.
On what grounds will we ask for a war-
rant? Besides, if Nathan Hargreaves was
my uncle, I would let him fight his own
battles.”

“But I owe him eighteen dollars.”

“What of that? He wouldn’t take a
penny off, if you got your head broke
while trying to find his money, and after
all that has happened I think we have
good reason to let him severely alone.”

“1-18. we toe to go back to the tent,” .
Teddy said, as he began to feel faint, and
Dan aided him during the short walk,
both staggering as they came through
the flap, meeting their Lost near the en-
trance, he asked sharply:

“What has been going on? I counted
on helping a party of boys, rather than.
giving my tent up to a lot of roughs, as
you appear to be.”

In the fewest possible words Dan ex-
plained what had happened, and, in ad-
dition, told all the story of Teddy’s los-
ing his money, together with the accusa-
tion made by Uncle Nathan.

“I’m sorry I said a word,” and the pro-
prietor of the museum.did really appear
to be grieved. “It makes no difference
whether you got a whipping or not, the
guilty parties are here, and you can
count on my help in turning them up.”

“That’s what I’m afraid we sha’n’t be

; able to do,” Teddy replied; “we tried our

best to-night, and got the worst of it.”

“There is plenty of time between now
and Saturday. I'll do all any man can,
an’ it’ll be strange if we don’t get some
proof before the fair closes.” - °

“How did you know we were out?”
Dan asked, abruptly.

“TI saw you go, and there was no reason
why I should kick; but I began to be
afraid you were up to something crooked.
Now I know the whole story, 1’11 do my
best to help you out of the scrape. Go to
sleep, and we’lltalk the whole matter
over in the morning.”

This was good advice; but not easily
followed. Both the boys began to feel
the effects of the blows received from the
thieves, and the pain resulting therefrom
was not conducive to repose.

They did managed to close their eyes in
slumber now and then, however, and
when the day broke Mr. Sweet, the pro-
pietor of the museum, was standing ready
to minister to their necessities.

“You haven’t got exactly the right
kind of faces to bring very big business,”
he said, cheerily; “but I reckon we can
make a change in the general appearance.
Use this plentifully as a bath, and before
business opens you’!] be respectable mem-
bers of society.”

It was certainly necessary for them to
do something toward improving their
appearance. Teddy’s ear was swollen to
nearly twice its natural size, and Dan
had an eye which was rapidly blacken-

ing.
Thanks to the application provided by
the owner of the museum, these evidences

of a fight were rapidly reduced, and
when Sam awakened they looked little
the worse for wear, although he readily
discovered that something serious had
happened while he was wrapped in slum-

er.

“What has been goin’ on?” he asked,
suspiciously.

“Nothing much,” Dan replied, with a
forced Jaugh. “The goat walked, over
us, and we’re kind’er used up, that’s all.
Are you ready to go to breakfast?”

Jt was evident that Sam did not believe
this explanation; but since he said noth-
ing more about it the two actors in the pre-
vious night’s adventures held their peace,
therefore it would not be in his power to
betray any secrets.

Breakfast was eaten at. an early hour,
and the young fakirs returned to the
grounds in time for Teddy to meet the
first visitors.

Under Dan’s instructions he continued
to cry out:

“Fere’s where you can get a cane or a
knife for nothing! Three rings for five |
cents, and every time you throw it over
the mark you get what you ring! Three
for five, and every cane or knife you ring
is yours !” ,

t was yet too early for the exhibits to
be opened, therefore Teddy had the assist-
ance of his friends in reclaiming the rings
thrown, and after nearly four dollars had
been taken in with a loss only of a ten-
cent cane, the amateur fakir began to
understand that it would be. necessary
for him to have a clerk.

“You’re bound to do a good business.
this week,” Dan said, at about eight
o’clock, “Sam and I must go now to at-
tend to our own work, an’ if. you see
some fellow who can be trusted I advise
you to hire him, or there'll be consider:

 
 

GOoop

NEw s.

S07

 

able trade lost, for when these people lhe jumped down on me because there was

want to spend their money they won’t
wait for you to hunt up assistants.”
- - “Yes, i reckon there’s more’n a thou-
sand who are jest aching to see how I
can row in one of them. dandy boats,”
Master Sam added; “but if you get into
any kind of a scrape, an’ don’t know how
to get out, come to me. I'll see you
through, no matter how good business

These two friends and advisers had
hardly left him when a particular chum
from the Run came up, and, knowing he
could be trusted, Teddy immediately
made a trade for his services.

Tim Jones accepted the offer of ten
cents on each dollar which might be
taken in, and straightway engaged him-

_. self as Teddy’s clerk, promising faith-

fully to account for every penny he should
receive, .
‘I know you are honest,” the proprie-

- tor of the boards said to his friend, “and

I want you to help me on the square, so
I'm willing to give a fair price, for I
may have to be away a good deal of the
time.”

“Wou mean that Nathan Hargreaves is
goin’ to have you arrested?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’s tellin’ around town at
the Run that you know who robbed his
_ store, an’ says he’ll have a warrant out,
if he has to go to Waterville for it.”

q “That is where he’s making a great big
mistake, Tim; bift if he should do any-
thing of the kind I expect you to do your
best here,” and Teddy s rg

emnly, for he really believed, his uncle
would succeed in having him arrested.
“T don’t know positively who broke into’
his store; but Dan an’ I heard enough
last night to make us believe we can find
the thieves, if we have time to work it

“I'd let him hustle to get the stuff, if

it was my pudding,” Tim replied with

emphasis, and then asa party of young
fellows bent on spending money ap-
roached the board, he began to cry as
babi as might have been expected from
any old fakir. “ Here’s»where you get ’em,
_ three rings fora nickel, and every cane

-orknife you ring is yours; all for the
small sim of five cents!”

Convinced that he had a capable clerk,
who was willing to work hard in order to
earn an additional percentage, Teddy
contented himself with making change
for the rush of customers, which contin-
ued unabated until nearly ten o’clock,
and then came a lull, when he was able
to watch the other fakirs around him.

Up to this point business had continued
in the most promising manner, and if it
held out as well there would be no diffi-
culty in his paying all the money he
owed, even although there might be no
YaE large profit.

“T only want to get out square,” he had
said to himself, while nursing his injured
ear; but this experience led him to be-
lieve it was possible to do very much
toward helping his mother, and already
had he began to dream of large returns,
despite the fifteen dollars out of which he
had been swindled.

It was just when his customers had
gone to other parts of the ground, and
after Teddy had figured up the amount of
money taken, showing that there was
nearly eight dollars in the treasury. with
an offset only of one twenty-cent knife
and two ten-cent canes lost, that the
young fakir saw Hazelton standing some
distance away beckoning to him.

_ “Look out sharp for things, Tim,” he
cried, as he vaulted over the railing, and
ran to the side of the man whom he be-
lieved to be a friend.

“Did anything happen last night?” the

latter asked.

Teddy told him the whole story, keep-
ing back not one incident.

“T heard quite so much in the hotel
where I board. Itis Long Jim and his
: ance who has done the job of which

»oth you and I are accused. As for your
uncle, he isn’t worth a minute’s thought;
but I’m going to get to work, an’ what
he says may go against me, so you and I
must turn those fellows up if we can.”

“Ain’t your business honest?” Teddy

_ asked, in surprise.

“Well, when we come: right down to
dots, I don’t suppose it is. Watch me
when I leave here, and you’ll have a
chance to judge for yourself. I may want

leave my satchel with you fora while,
Beste R yD you’re willing to take care
oO 5
“Of courseIam. I’ll do anything you
ask.” ;

“Better wait and see the game first;

but don’t forget that we’ve got to turn
up the two men who whipped you and
your friend last night, or stand the
_ chance of being hauled in for the robbery
ourselves.” cs
“Did you say anything to Uncle Na-
than to make him think you wouldgreak
Into his store?”
- “No;I only played him fora jay, as

if,

 

‘ou shall see me do with two or three
bundred of these smart fellows here, and

no one else on whom to fasten the crime.
I’ve got to go now. Don’t forget to hurry
back to your cane board when you see
I'm getting through with my first stand,
for 1 want to leave my stuff with some-
body whom I can trust.”

CHAPTER VIII.
THE JEWELRY FAKIR.

EDDY’S curiosity regarding the

kind of business which. Hazleton |

proposed to do was so great that,

for the time ‘being, he forgot his
own venture in watching this supposed
friend.

The jewelry fakir disappeared amid the
crowd for a few moments, reappearing in
a carriage drawn bya fancifully deco-
rated horse; and. the gaudy trappings
caused the sight-seers to stop, believing
something interesting or curious was to
be seen.

Hazelton. introduced himself as an
agent for a large manufacturing com-
pany, and proposed to dispose of “sam-
ples” of their goods ina manner which
would be satisfactory to all. He began
by throwing away great numbers of cheap

‘rings made to imitate gold, and as the

boys scrambled for them he complained
that the older members of the -throng,
SBOE Poona whom he particularly wished
should test the merits of his wares, were
getting nothing.

“T can change that,” he said, after hesi-
tating a moment, asif to devise some
plan. Then holding up half a dozen pairs
of cuff-buttons, he continued:.“I am al-
lowed to give away only six of these.
What gentleman will advance twenty-
five cents for one of these sets, knowing
the money will be returned to him? By
that means I shall place the goods where
they will do the most good.”

In a short time the necessary number
of. purchasers were found, each having
paid a quarter of a dollar, and then, with
great ostentation, the fakir returned to
every one the money he he wiven.

A similar performance was gone through
with in the case of ten seal rings, and by
that time the crowd were in a state of
high excitement, for they were getting
supposedly valuable goods by simply
oe this agent their money for a short

ime.

The fakir then held up a lot of watch-
chains, asking who would give him a
dollar for one, but in this instance he
made no mention of returning the money.

Believing these also were to be given
away, every man scrambled to pass up
his dollar before the supply should be ex-
hausted, and fully two hundred dollars
was taken in by the generous “agent.”
Then, as the demand ceased, Hazelton
produced from his valise what appeared
to be a heavy. gold watch.

Wrapping it in paper, and attaching it
to a chain, he cried:

“Who wants to take another, and re-
ceive asa present what I have fastened
to the end of it; but on the condition that
this paper shall not be removed until I
give permission?” :

A young fellow standing near Teddy
made all possible haste to pass the fakir
a dollar, and receive the prize.

Then the remainder of the crowd clam-
ored for more to be put up in‘the same
manner, and Hazelton disposed of, at
least, an hundred before the clamorous
throng could be appeased.

While this was being done Teddy saw
the young fellow slyly remove the paper
and examine his goods. A look of anger
and disappointment overspread his face
as a cheap, empty locket, fashioned on
the outside something like the case of a
watch, was revealed to view. Twenty
cents would have been an. extravagantly
high price for what he had paid a dollar;
but it was possible the agent would re-
turn. the money as he had done in the

revious cases, and the victimized fellow

eld his peace. ib

Hazelton was now ready to take a hur-
ried departure. No more dollars were
pecken up, and quickly seizing the reins,

e said: j

“T have not represented these goods to
be gold; but they are a fine imitation,
and Mr. Nathan Hargreaves, of Peach
Bottom Run, will probably act as my
agent for the sale of them. You can get
what may be wanted from him, if you
need any more,”

The last words were hardly spoken be-
fore he drove quickly through the throng,
leaving his dupes in a daze, from which
they did not recover until he was lost to
view. |

Now Teddy understood what the “Give
Away” game was, and he also knew that

‘it was far from being honest, although

Hazelton had really made no. promises
which he did not perform. |

Some of the victims were angry, and
vowed to flog “that feller within an inch
of his life” before sunset; others bore
their loss philosophically, and turned
away with the remark that the fakir was
“a cute one,” while the majority hastened

7

 

off lest they should be suspected of being
victims.

Teddy returned to his cane-board feel-
ing sad because he had been so mistaken
in this particular man, and had hardly
reached there when Hazelton, on foot,
came from the side of the fair grounds
opposite where he had disappeared, saying
hurriedly as he handed the boy a black
satchel somewhat resembling a sample
case:

“Look out for this!
in it.”

Without waiting for an answer the
man was gone, and the young fakir was
in no- slight distress at being the custo-
dian of so much wealth.

After considerable discussion with Tim
he decided to leave it behind the cane-
board where it would. be screened from
view, and then a crowd of customers sud-
denly appearing, he was so busy during
the next half hour that.he hardly had
time to think of that which had been en-
trusted to his keeping.

Not until trade gréw dull once more did
Hazelton appear, looking decidedly well
pleased with himself, and, standing
where the passers-by could not hear, he
asked :

“Well, what do you think of the give-
away game now?”

“Tt looks to me like a swindle,” Teddy
replied, bluntly. “The things you sold
were not worth half what you got for
them.”

“Six cents apiece for the chains, and
five for the lockets is what I pay by the
quantity,” the fakir said, with a laugh.

“But you made the people think they
were getting real watches.”

“I was mighty careful to say nothing
of the kind. They thought they saw a
watch, and I told them I would make
each-_purchaser a present of what was on
the chain. ‘Their idea was.to get the best
of me, and in that I didn’t lose very
much. It’s a case of setting a thief to
catch a thief, and the smartest man comes
out ahead.” °

“But why did you leave all the money
with me?” '

“Because it sometimes happens that
my customers make a:kick, and try to get
back their stuff by force, so I don’t carry
much cash in my pockets while I am on
the fair grounds.”

“Of course, you are all through now.
You can’t expect to do the same thing
over again.”

“That’s exactly what I shall do in
about an hour, only in a different portion
of the enclosure, and you’! see that I can
catch just as many suckers as before.”

Then, in order to be rid of the satchel,
for it seemed as if he was really concerned
in the swindle so long as it remained in
his keeping, Teddy said he wanted to see
what Dan and Sam were doing.

“Go ahgad; I'll stay near-by where I
can avis an eye on the stuff, so you
needn't let that worry you.”

As a matter of fact, the boy was not
eager to leave his place of business; but
having said so, it was necessary to go, or
let Hazelton understand exactly why the
remark had been made.

Cautioning Tim to “keep his eyes open
for trade,” he walked across the grounds
to the building where Dan was paper,

isplay-
00

All my money is

and found that young gentleman

ing the good qualities of a peculia
ing weapon. :
“This is the Model Pocket Rifle,” Dan
was saying to a party of gentlemen.
“The shoulder-rest is detachable, and
you can buy an effective weapon for a
trifle over fifteen dollars, as—— Hello,
Teddy, how’s business?” he added, sud-
denly, on observing his friend, and the
two had an opportunity for conversation,
while the curious ones were examining
the rifle.

Teddy gave a brief account of what
had already been done, and then asked:

“Can’t you get off afew minutes, and
go with me to see what Sam is doing?”

It was not difficult for Dan to get a
short leave of absence, and the two went
directly to the creek where their ac-
quaintance, who proposed to make him-
self the central figure of the fair, was
rowing around In a jaunty looking craft.

Sam wore a salior’s shirt, turned awa
at the throat, and tied with a black sil
handkerchief, while on the breast of the

arment were worked the name “Davis

oat and Oar Co., Detroit, Mich.” The
same legend being printed in gold on the
band of his straw hat.

Sam had evidently been expecting his
friends, for he espied them before they
reached the shore, and, rowing to the
bank, insisted they should take a sail.

“Come on, it’s all right,” he said. “It
don’t make any difference whether I
carry passengers or not so long as the
boat is kept goin’, an’ I want to show
you somethin’ fine in the way of rowin’.”

Neither of the boys cared very much
about accepting the invitation; but he
was so persistent that they finally stepped
on board as the easiest manner of settling
the matter.

“TI tell you what it is, fellers,” he said,
as he pulled out into the stream, “I’m

jest makin’ things hum around here.
| These folks have never seen any kind of
|style put into rowin,’ an’ I’m knockin’
' their eyes out.”

“Don’t give it to them too strong, or
they may want to keep you here as an or-
nament after the fair closes, and then
the rest of the world would suffer,” Dan
said, with a laugh, and Sam replied:

“You fellers can make fun; but what I
say is straight,” and then he made prep-
arations for giving an exhibition.
“Watch me now, an’ you'll learn a thing
or two about boats.”

During the next ten minutes. he. pulled
as if on a race, first up and then down
the stream, until sheer iack of breath
forced him to stop.

“I hope you haven’t set the keel on
fire,” Dan said, solicitously. “There’s
no question but that you made good time,
though I’m inclined to think the build of
the boat had considerable to do with the
speed. This one looks as if she would
row herself.”

“That’s all you know aboutit. If I
hadn’t been a first-class hand at——”

“See there!” Teddy cried, excitedly,
as be pointed toward the shore. “That’s
the man who got my fifteen dollars. Pull
in, Sam, an’ pull for all you are worth!”

The oarsman delayed only long enough
to gaze in the direction indicated, where
he saw the old fakir whom they had met
with such great loss at Waterville, and
then he bent himself to the task.

“Do you believe it will be safe to tackle
him after last night?” Dan asked.

“I’m going to, and if he don’t get away
from me I'll ask some of the crowd to
help me have him arrested,” Teddy re-
| plied, grimly.
| The little craft was a considerable dis-
| tance from the shore. Sam was so ex-
'eited that he only thought of landing in
the shortest possible space of time, and
| instead of keeping a look-out for other
: boats, rowed vigorously, as if he was the
| only oarsman on the stream.

Teddy and Dan sat motionless with

their eyes fixed on the man, and thus it
| hap ened that no one on board saw a
| double ender, in which were three ladies
‘and two gentlemen, come from around a
(bend in the creek directly in Sam’s
| course.

There was a shout from the bank; three
| shrill screams of terror, and then a crash
/as the two crafts came together with ter-
rific force.

The. occupants of both boats were
thrown into the water as the frail tim-
bers were splintered, and the spectators
on the bank.»eted as if panic-stricken.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_—___+0—e___
AGOOD LIGHT TO HAVE.

At a recent meeting of the Physical So-
ciety in England an electric lamp was ex-
hibited which lighted itself when dark-
hess came on, and extinguished itself
when daylight or another strong light
was brought into the field. The ue is
worked by a selenium cell on the princi-
ple that the strength of the current varies
with the intensity of light falling on the
selenium.

 

“GOOD NEWS” HUMANE SOCIETY
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.?

HEROISM TO BE REWARDED.

Recognizing the fact that there are a large number of
young heroes who are never rewarded in any way for
risking their lives to save others, we have Yormpal a
“Humane Society” in connection with Goop NEws.

The above cnt 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
publishing in the columns of Good Nrws an account
- ihe deed which entitles one to wear this emblem of

eroism. |

To do justice to all, and avoid any deception. we will
have to. take extra precaution, and we must therefore
| have an authentic statement from a reliable source
that the partyin question jeopardized his life in a
/ good cause. '

The existence of this society dates from May, 1890,
| and notice cannot be taken f. or heroic acts_ pe: ‘ormed
| prior to the date of organization of this society.

If you are entitled to become a member of this oo

 

|
and receive the gold medal described abo:
a full histo: of | a

sere of the town or city. me it
The medal is intended for

st

ve, write
the even and bers it witnessed

’

+
+ PP
o - ¥;

de . Bene e s Che bit ait ‘ z
asi at ret tates ee net Ce Rice tree lees a = EK

 
    
 

   
 

 

  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
   
 
   
 

   
 
 
  

 
  
   
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
   

   
  
  
   
 
 
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
    
    
   
   
   
  

 

 

 

 

GOOD

 

NEWS.

 

 

ISSUED WEEKLY.
W. B. Lawson, Editor.

 

NEW YORK, APRIL 25, 1891.

 

Terms to Mail Subscribers:
(POSTAGE FREE.)

Smonths - - + = - 65c. | 1 copy, two years - $4.00
4inonths - - « + = 85c.| The New York Weekly and
6months - + - = -$1.25| Goop News, both for one
One Year + = - + - 2.50} year = - 7 = = = $4.50
2 copies, one year- - 4,00

 

How to SEND Monry,—We will be responsible for
the receipt of money sent to us only when remittance
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particularly recommend our subscribers to the Ameri-
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at any of their offices, and guarantee the delivery of
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transit unless sent in one of the above ways.

To CLUB RatsERS.—We are at all times a ana
willing to lend yon all possible aid, and wiil send, free,
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Special induecemeuts made for large clubs.

AM letters should be addressed to

STREET & SMITEIVS GOOD NEWS,
P. 0. Box 2734. 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y.

Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line.

 

 

Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be
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have them please send direct to this office and we
will supply them by mail on receipt of price.

 

It1s assumed that contributions unaccompanied
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take to send back such manuscripts.

Contents of this Number.

“Among the Esquimaux,” by Edward S.
Lliis.

“Teddy's Venture,” by James Otis.

“Slaves of the Circus,” by Walter Morris.

“Captain Carey,” by Lieutenant Lionel
Lounsberry.

oe and Fearless,” by Horatio Alger,

r.

“Peter Potter,” by *‘Jack.”

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

“The Ghosts of ‘Waterford’s Clearing,’” by
C. A. Stephens.

“‘A High-Priced Horse,” by Max Adeler.

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

‘Interesting Facts,” by John R. Coryell.

And the usual interesting departments,

 

 

 

Another New Serial Story in
two weeks. by a popular author.

William Buhner,

Of Coeymans, N. Y., is awarded a Good
News Humane Society Medal.
This is the Seventh Life he has saved in
Six Years.

 

Coeymans, and on their way home
it was found that owing to the poor
‘condition of the ice a boat was nec-
essary; asmallone being found on the
shore the men secured it, and started to
cross the river, but, acting incautiously,
the boat was capsized. They made every
exertion to save themselves, but owing to
the current and the rotten condition of
the ice were unable to draw themselves
out of the water. Joseph Van Wormer
was the first to disappear under the
water. Next his brother, Romaine Wor-
mer, disappeared from _ view, quickly to
be followed by David Seaburgh. Wilsey
began s outing in hopes that some one
might hear him and come to his succor,
with the result already known.

The hero is seventeen years of age, and
weighs about one hundred and eighteen
pounds. Wilsey weighs over two hun-
dred pounds,

This is the seventh life Buhner has
saved during the past six years, all from
drowning.

STATE OF NEw YORK, 3.8
COUNTY OF ALBANY. Si

I, William W. Snyder, Notary Public within and
for said County and State, hereby ccrtity that be-
fore me personally came William Buhuer of said
County, to me personally known to be the saine
person who made the rescue mentioned in above
statement, and who subscribed his name to the
ame in my presence, and who, being by me duly
sworn, Says that he has heard read the foregoing
Statement. and that the same is true.

WILLIE BUHNER.
W. W. SNYDER, Notary Public, Albany Co., N.Y.

Witnesses: Chas. M. Tompkins, Attorney, P. H.

Smith, Howard Holmés, W. H. VanDuzer,

INTERESTING FACTS.

BY JOHN R. CORYELL,
clahoes nmol

To Burn, or Not to Burn?

~~ HALL we burn after death?

Many persons will shudder at the
thought of discussing that question,
but,it is a most interesting ques-
tion nevertheless. However, it is a mat-
ter which I intend to carry no further
than the mere question, so you may dis-
cuss it or not as you please. I only wish
to tell of what has been done and what is
being done in the way of post-mortem
ceremonies,

In the very early times—that is, pre-
historic ages, when no written record
was made of passing events—cremation
wascommon. This is proven by the cu-
rious sepulchers known as harrows, quite
frequently found in England, Scotland,
Ireland, and elsewhere. These are mounds
of stone containing interior chambers for
the reception of the ashes or mortal re
mains of the pre-historic man, Appar-
ently cremation came into fashion just as
the harrow was going out of fashion, for
in them cremated bodies is not the rule.

In historic times cremation was prac-
ticed by most people.’ Those which did
not practice it had some special reason
for doing otherwise. In Egypt bodies were
embalmed, in China, buried in the earth,
and the Jews, buried in sepulchers. The
Greeks, Romans, and most barbarous na-
tions, however, burned their dead.

In all times and among all peoples the
funeral ceremonies have been a most
important feature. The details of the
ceremonies have naturally been affected
by the notions which have been held con-
cerning that world beyond this which the
most savage peoples seem to have ac-

 

A

 

About half-past five on the afternoon of |
March 8, 1l3¥1, William Buhner was on!
the barge Vaudling, about one-quarter of
a mile below Coeymans village, on the}
Hudson River, New York, when he heard
cries for help coming, apparently from |
Bearen Island, nearly eastward. He at}
once borrowed a pair of rubber boots and |
hastened to the rescue. When he got to the
island be found that the cries proceeded
from farther on, and across the main chan-
nel of the river,over beyond another island,
in what is known as the creek. He hur-
ried there, and recognized the man in the
water as John Wilsey. He was in an
open space of water fringed with very
thin ice, not over one inch thick, and
was hanging on the edge of thin ice.
After shoving him a short pole the hero
crawled out on the thin ice toward him,
the ice sinking and bending beneath him
at every step. Thus he went out probably
forty feet, and told the drowning man to
reach his pole toward shore. Buhner
turned on his hack, and, striking his
heels through the ice to hold him, he drew
Wilsey through the ice. When he got to
thick ice he took hold of him and drew
him out of the water. It was over half
an hour before Wilsey could moye his
legs and arms. Buhner then went over to
Coeymans and got help to get Wilsey to
the hotel, where the unfortunate man re-
ceived medical attendance. Three of
Wilsey’s companions were drowned, and
their bodies were recovered next day.

It appears that David Seaburgh, John
Wilsey, Romaine and Joseph Van Wor-
mer, visited Schodach landing, opposite

 

cepted as a fact. Some of the German
tribes, like many other rude peoples, fan-
cied that the other world was only a
spiritualized counterpart of this; that a
warrior would there need his weapons,
his slaves, his dogs, and horses even,
and, consequently, it was the custom to
burn all of these with his body. No
doubt the slaves considered the custom a
foolish one.

The Hindoo suttee, in which the widow
is supposed to be a willing victim, is too
well known to need description. It must
be said, however, that the life of a Hin-
doo widow is so little pleasant that it
would be no wonder if she were glad to
end it. In Africa, where, in many parts,«
the idea of the ancient German. tribes
prevails, as many as five hundred wives
and slaves have been known to be buried
alive with a defunct monarch.

In China, where to this day the idea
holds that a man’s spirit, on its way to
bliss, needs seeriee’ the same things as
in this world, a curious custom is prac-
ticed. Paper sedan chairs, paper money,
paper clothing, and other similar ar-
ticles, are burned yearly for his use. As
he needs food, too, great exertions are
made to furnish a splendid feast for him.
This isnot done by paper counterfeits,
Here real eatables are prepared and
cooked, and set where the hungry spirit
may feed pon their essence. hen a
proper time has elapsed the feast is car-
ried back home, and the living friends

fill themselves with the good things change Goop News for some “trinklets” of no

which do not seem to have lost flavor by
the extracting of their spiritual part.

positively worth its weight in gold,

raised on high platforms, and there left.
In one place among the Pacific Islands
the widow adorns herself with the head
of her husband, which she hangs about
her neck. It is safe tosay that those
widows are not the giddy, attractive
creatures with which the unmarried man
of the civilized world is acquainted. In
Japan the deceased person is buried ina
sitting posture. In Siam the body is first
embalmed, and then laid in a temple,
where it remains a certain length of
time, according to the rank of the de-
ceased. The king is kept for six months.

After the proper time has elapsed the
body is burned.

The Digger Indians, being very low in
the scale of humanity, must, of course,
do something horrid. They first burn
their dead, then mix the ashes with gum,
and smear the mixture on the heads of
the mourners.

For a few centuries it was the custom
of Christians to burn their dead after the
fashion of the Romans, but finally the
question of resurrection was _ raised.
Somebody asked how ashes could resur-
rect. There was a lively time, of course,
but the ashes party got the worst of it,
and the burial was adopted. Now again
somebody agitates the question. Or more
properly, there has been a discussion of
cremation going on for some time. This
time, too, it is asked how can ashes get
up when the trump sounds? But, grown
wiser, the cremation party retorts:

“Do igo wish to give up the glorious
army of martyrs, who at the stake have
given up their lives for their faith?”

Of course, no one can doubt that if the
future is sure for any, it must be for the
noble men who have suffered for relig-
ion’s sake.

Cremation societies are starting up in
all parts of the civilized world, and the
members argue that cremation must be
the ceremony of the future, for the reason
that danger to the living lies in burial of
the dead. Particularly, they say, is this
true in case of epidemic disease. They
point to the hundreds of beautiful spots
of earth devoted to the dead, and these
they say are robbed from the living with-
out benefit to the dead.

The ancient Greek and Roman plan was
to place the ashes in an urn of ornamental
character. The same plan is practiced by
many of the advocates of cremation now,
the urn being kept at home.

Without arguing for or against crema-
tion, I must say T find something un-
pleasant in the idea of keeping such ashes
about the house.

 

fend us the names of your friends who have
not seen Goon News, and we will send them a

sample copy free.

Applause.

JOHNSON Crry, Tenn.

 

Messrs. Street & Suir :—

Gentlemen :—I am taking your Goop News, and
would not miss it a single week for anything. 1
have taken lots of other papers, but never had one
before which pleased me as well. Wishing
you future success as well as you have had in the
past, I remain your constant reader,

Gus L. SPARKS.
MADISON, Wis,
MEssrs. STREET & SMiTH:— ,

Dear Sirs:—} have spent some very pleasant
hours reading your paper, and am glad to see the
success it has attained. I Wish tocompliment you,
also, on the class of writers you bave secured. I
find your paper surpassing the boys’ papers now
in circulation, and hope it will continue as it has
begun. Yours, C. REPLINGER.

WILMINGTON, Del.
Messrs. StreET & Smrvra :— al
Dear Sirs :—] have taken your paper Goop News
since the first number, and I think it is one of the
best papers that was ever published for five cents.
I stopped taking Goop News for a while and
started on other story papers, but I did not like
them so T took Goop Nrwsagain. Imustsay Goop
News has no equal, it 1s full of interesting stories
and thrilling adventures, CHARLES LEY.

WasuineTon, N. C.
MEssrs. STREET & SMITH :—
Dear Sirs :—1 have been taking Goop News from
the first number, and find it to be one of the best
story er for boys’ and girl’s in the United States,
and all over the globe, The printing ard illustra-
tions are good, clear, and bright, the stories are
from the best authors such as Castlemon, Optic,
Lounsberry, Lawson, and others. 1 also take four
other papers, but Goop News beats them all, IJ
advise all boys’ and girl’s, in the United States to
subscribeto Goop News. W. A. LOCKYER,
Sr. GEORGE HALL COLLEGE, Baltimore, Md.
MEssrs, STREET & Suito :—
Gentlemen :—We have been taking Goop News
for some time, and am very much pleased with it.
St. George is a very large college, and the boys are
very much interested in all your stories. Allow
us fo congratulate you on securing such fine
writers for Goop News. We look forward with
pleasure for the next new story.
Yours truly,

CHESTER GATES, AND STEVENSON JENNINGS.

27 Firra Avr., New York Ciry.
MEssrs. StREET & SMITH :—
Gentlemen:—I read inthe exchange column,
that some of the Goop News readers wish to ex-

value, I would not exchange a number of :Goop
News for anything worth ten times it price. ” Z¢ is

f icklets.

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.

 

A Compromise.
He—“I wish you would sing that dear old son
‘Backward, turn backward, O, Time in thy flight ?”
Sweet Giri—‘] might wake mother up by sing-
ing, but 1 will turn the clock back, if that will do.”

Paying the Piper.
Housekeeper—“‘What makes butter so high
now ?”
Dealer—'‘Th’ oleomargarine laws, mum.”

A Stranger’s Mistake.
Distinguished Stranger (in the West)—*That is &
well- drilled squad of soldiers.”
American General—'*Squad? Great Scott, man!
That’s an army !”

An Unpleasant Subject.

Mrs. Brickrow—“I met Mr. Intrade yesterday,
and was disgusted at the way he talked——”

Mrs. Brownstone—‘‘Horrors! You do not asso-
ae with such people, do you?’ They always talk
shop.

Mrs, Brickrow—“Yes. As I was'saying, I was
disgusted at his talk. The idea ot his saying you'd
been owing him money for five years and he never
expected to get a cent of it.”

A Strong Combination.
Bliffers—‘I have a friend who is the most pecu-
liar man you ever saw. He has a regular South of
Ireland name, but he looks like a born German,
and yet he fs really an Italian.”
Cliffers—*‘By jove, he ought to go into politics.”

Tit For Tat.
a eg ao has been fooling with this
gun?
Mrs. Jinks—“The new girl got hold of it this
morning and discharged it.”
“My gracious? What did you do?”
“I discharged her.”

Rather Monotonous.
‘4 Medium—“If you are a spirit, teli me where you
ve.” :

Spirit (of average woman)—“In Heaven.”
“Are you happy ?”

“Not very.”

“Why ?”

“There is nobody to look down’ on.”

FameFirst.

High-minded Father—“My son, choose a profes-
Sion that will bring you fame, and after that
wealth will come.”

Dutiful Son—*“Very well, father, I'll become a
professional base-ball player.” y

Ready for a Visit.

Friend—‘That. typewriter girl of yours is the
most horribly ugly creature I ever saw~—made me
eee look at the fright. Where did you get

er

Business Man—‘Borréwed her. By the way,
old boy, drop in about three o'clock, and go home
to dinner with me.”

“I never met your wife.”

“She'll be here about three.”

Authoritative.
Big Sister—“Dick, I think it is time lttle folks
were in bed,”
Little Dick (on Mr. Nicefellow’s knee)—''Oh, it’s
all right. Mamma said I should stay here until
she came down stairs,”

Beyond Her Powers.

Artist—You have a remarkable collection of
pictures, Mrs. Suddenrich. Have you noticed the
charming tone of this one ?”

Mrs. Suddenrich—‘N—o; fact is, I’m a little

deaf.”
High and Low Life.

Society Youth—‘‘Say, Jack, can’t you lend me $5?
I’ve got to take a lady to the opera to-night.”

Poor Clerk— ‘Yes, George, 1 can; but you re-
ceived a check from your father this morning.
Where's that?”

8. ¥.—*Well, the fact 1s, I stepped into my
tallor’s to get. a necktie and hadn’t anything but the
check with me, and the rascal, instead of handing’
me the change, gave me a receipt for balance

ue,

Choseing a Character.

Wee Miss—*Mamma, mayn't 1 take the part of
& milkmaid at the fancy ball ?”

Mamma—‘‘You are too little.”

Wee Miss—Well, I can be a condensed milk-

maid,”
To be Expected.

Mrs. De Gumps—“I see by the paper that an
American girl, who is a student at Oxford, has
taken the senior wrangler’s prize this year,”

Mr. De Gumps—‘‘Oh, our American woman can
just beat the world on a wrangle.”

Not Used to Their Ways.

New Minister—‘‘Hereafter it will be necessary
to keep the windows tightly closed during service,-
I was greatly annoyed this morning by. the noise
of some neighboring factory blowing off steam.”
Sexton—‘That wasn’t a factory sir. That was
the folks snoring.”
Not a Swimmer.
Man from the Country—‘Why do you stay in a
Ls like this? Why don’t you live in the coun-
ry
City Man—‘] can’t swim.”
Money Made Twice.
é Fe Eee seem very happy about some-
ning.”
Winks—“I am; biggest thing yet. In for a mil-
lion this time, sure! You know the elgar end
clippers they have in tobacco stores? A cusiomer
buys a cigar. touches it to the clipper, and the end
iscut off all ready for smoking. Well, I’ve just
found out that these cigar tips are gathered up by
the proprietor and sold, some big stores adding
$300 a year to thelr income by the operation.
Great. isn't 1? You sell the cigar, get the end
back for nothing, and make money on both !”
“But that isn’t your invention.”
“No, but mine is the same sort, only better. It’s
fixed so that when the customer touches his cigar
to the clipper it'll bite off a couple of inches before

 

 

In some parts of the world bodies are

Respecttully, Louis E. Davin.

he can say Jack Robinson.”

 

 

 

t

Silos

  
     
      
         
       
 

ie ee Ae
Pe cas

ssc pi
a

    
GOoD NEWS.

S0o

 

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

WSOP TAD CIC

THE ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE,

-—_—

By WALTER MORRIS.

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

osetia lenpnncgnin

 

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

 

CHAPTER XIII.
OVERTAKEN.

aT seemed as if the arrival of the
fF shen had aided the proprietor of
2 the Royal Amphitheater in coming
2 to a definite conelusion as to what
should be done.

A moment previous his face had pre-
sented a picture of mingled dismay aud |
bewilderment; but instantly the stranger
announced his business, Mr. Howe arose
with the air of one thoroughly prepared

 

for any reverses of fortune.

But few words of explanation were| first attempt at driving
needed from the officer to inform the lit-| jn the night.

tle party that Commodore Tiny and the}
young gentleman who turned the crank
of the barrel organ, had brought suit to
recover the amount due as wages, and
the fact that the claim was no
larger afforded positive relief
to all.

“I think this matter can be
settled immediately,” Mr.
Howe said to the sheriff,
“and as I cannot possibly
spirit away the entire circus,
you will ailow me a few
moments in which to ar-
range another affair of much
greater importance. Be
seated, please, while I retire
with some of my staff, and I
will rejoin you shortly.”

The officer was perfectly
willing to grant any favor
within the strict line of duty,
and beckoning the others to
follow him into the dressing-
tent, Mr. Howe said:

“This suit doesn’t amount
to anything, because I can
easily pay the claims; but
the real trouble is that
Thomas may bring one which
can’t be settled so readily.
Now, it is not necessary for
Neal to appear in the even-
ing’s performance, and my
idea is that he had better
start at once in a light car-
riage for the next town with
Mrs. Wilson and June. It
would be only natural for the
child to run away after such
scenes, and if I am kept in
ignorance of what is to be
done, that drunken hostler
won't get very much satis-
faction.”

Then, turning abruptly,
he rejoined the sheriff, feat
ing Neal and Mike consid-
erably mystified as to why
he abandoned them so sud-
denly; but Mr. Wilson, un-
derstanding perfectly the
reason of his singular behay-
ior, asked Neal:

“Are you afraid to drive in
the night?”

“I never tried it; but at
such a time as this I wouldn’t be afraid
of anything.”

“Then find my wife. Tell her what has
happened, and say that it is necessary to
leave the show for awhile. Don’t stop
to make any preparations; but start on
foot along the road which runs back of
the tenting grounds, with her and June.
I'll overtake you very soon.”

By this time Mike understood the drift
of affairs, and he said with a chuckle of
exultation:

“I’m after thinkin’ Sim’ll find out he
hasn’t got the soft snap he fancied. Go
on, Neal, me lad, an’ whia yer reach the
nixt town kape yer two eyes open lest
the spalpeen tumbles to the game.”

The Irishman would have taken an
affectionate farewell of the young people;
but Mr. Wilson said, sharply:

“There’s no time for fooling, Mike; let
them get away as soon as they can.
Hurry, Neal, we can’t afford to waste
even the seconds, for Thomas may be here
with the officers at any moment.”

Neal carried out Mr. Wilson’s instruc-
tions to the letter, and, five minutes later,
the three were walking past the stables
on te country road which seemingly led
to the very heart of the forest,

It was at that hour when of

 

but few

the employees were on duty, and not a|

FROM THEIR PLACE OF CONCEALMENT, NEAL AND
JUNE SAW THEIR PURSUERS RESUME THE CHASE,

the grounds, the crowd of sight-seers |

“Wecan take turns. Neal wili begin, |

the carriage, and a quarter of an hour

being on the opposite side of the main;and when he gets so tired that there is later the fugitives were on the road again.

tent. |
During half an hour they walked on al-

danger of going to sleep, he must call |
me. If Thomas has the slightest inkling |

It was necessary to pass very nearthe
tents of the Royal Amphitheater; but

most in silence, and, at the end of that]! of our movements he will most likely ar- | lveal drove rapidly, and they saw no fa-

time, after the tents of the circus, and
even the little village itself was lost to
view in the distance, they were overtaken
by Mr. Wilson, who was driving Mr.
Howe’s private carriage.

“Jump in!” he cried, alighting and |
holding the horse until the fugitives had |
obeyed. “Now, Neal, keep your wits}
about you. Here is a rough plan of the|
road leading to the next stopping place,
Drive fast for it is a twenty-mile jour-
ney, and when you arrive go directly to|
the hotel; but don’t let slip the fact that |
you belong to the show. Register as
‘Mrs. Briggs and children,’ stay in your
rooms as much as possible; but keep a|
bright look-out for any arrivals. If Sim |
Thomas should chance to follow, get}
away without being seen, and drive to
Stockton, where we exhibit on the day
after to-morrow. In case be is then still |

 

 

 

on your track go through the same maneu-
ver, and remain ahead of the circus a|

week, if necessary.”

He handed his wife a roll of bills, bade
them all a cheery “good-by,” and walked
swiftly toward the village, as Neal, de-
cidedly nervous and ill at ease,
gathered up the reins for his

Owing to
the fact

TH)

of having started in nearly an opposite di-
rection from the true course, to avoid
meeting Thomas or the officers, it was
necessary to make quite a detour from one
country cross-road to another; but Neal

| urged the horse on with such good effect

that night had hardly settled down when
they were nearing the first stopping place.

After this the animal, accustomed to
traveling in the darkness, needed but lit-
tle guiding. and when, at about ten
o’clock, they arrived at their destina-
tion, even Neal was surprised at the ease
with which the journey had been per-
formed.

Here the ring-master’s instructions
were followed implicitly, and after a
supper, which was the most satisfactory
Neal had eaten since becoming a member
of the Royal Amphitheater, the fugitives
retired to begin the watch for Thomas.

They were shown toa large room di-
rectly over the parlor, and adjoining it
was a smaller one for Neal, the latter
commanding a view of the main entrance
to the house.

“We couldn’t be situated better,” Mrs.

 

Wilson said, in a tone of satisfaction.
“Now it will be possible to see every per-
son who arrives, and one of us must be
at the window all the time.”

“Are you going to sit up during the en-

‘single person could be seen as they crossed tire night?” June asked, nervously.

   
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
 

rive before morning.”

Neal declared he could keep his eyes!
open all night if necessary, and at once
seated himself at the window of his
apartment, while Mrs. Wilson and June
lost no time in seeking the repose which
both stood sadly in need of, for sleeping
in a carriage six nights out of seven is
not calculated to afford very much rest.

It was not a pleasant task to stare out
into the dimly-lighted streets while his
companions were sleeping; but Neal kept
faithful watch until nearly daybreak,
when Mrs. Wilson entered.

“Why didn't you call me?” she asked. |
“You should not have tried to keep}

most.” |
“It wasn’t very hard work. I walked}

ing, and it hasn’t seemed such an awful |
long time.”

“Well, lie down and get what sleep|
you can before the circus comes, for |
there’s no knowing when we may have to}
start.”

Neal threw himself on the bed without
undressing, and his tired eyes closed |
immediately, not to  open|
again until the blare of |
trumpets awakened |

him as the
Royal Am- |

—-

phitheater was making its way into town.

Both June and Mrs. Wilson were at the
window of the latter’s room, and when,
after a hasty toilet, Neal rejoined them,
they reported that nothing had been seen
of the ex-hostler,

“I’m almost certain he has not fol-
lowed the show,” Mrs. Wilson said: “but
we shall soon hear from my husband,
when everything will be explained.”

Breakfast was served in the room, as
none of the party believed it safe to ven-
ture down stairs, and about eleven o'clock
one of the servants brought a letter to
“Mrs. Briggs.”

It read as follows:

“Sim came to the tent with an officer last night,
half an hour after you left. Of course both he and
his wife were in arage when they found June had
run away; but, for wnately, hard words don’t hurt
any one.

have been left. a few miles back on the road to
notify us if he puts In an appearance, and unless
you hear from me again within ten minutes the
way will be clear. The suit which the dwarf
brought has been settled by Mr. Howe's paying
the claim; but the little wretch has not given any
sign of leaving the show, and is making matters
more disagreeable than ever for General Stout.”

Mrs. Wilson had hardly ceased read-

 

ing when Neal ran down stairs to order

From all we could learn he believes she |
has gone back to Norwich, and I think he went |

there also, although it won’t do fo take any
chances. As soon as you receive this start for
Stockton. Some of our people who can be trusted }

miliar face, until, about a mile out of the
village, Mike emerged from a thicket of
pine bushes.

“Oh, stop! stop! There’s Signor
Fausta!” June cried, and the horse was
reined in, the Irishman displaying every
evidence of delight as he leaned over to
shake hands regardless of the mud on
the wheels.

“It’s been a nate job so far,” he said, in
a tone of satisfaction, “an’ I’m thinkin’
we've given thim spalpeens the slip for a
while at any rate.”

“But we can’t keep running ahead
from town to town all summer, and he'll
be sure to follow us as long as his wife

|awake more than two hours at the very;is with the circus,” Mrs. Wilson said,

nervously. “Mr. Howe won’t be willing
to stand so much expense if June is to be

|around whenever my eyes felt like clos- | of no benefit to him, and I don’t see how

it’s going to end,”

“Whist! Misther Howe has sint to
New York for a lady rider. When she
comes Mademoiselle Jeanette gets her
walking papers, bad cess to her. It’s
settled that June an’ Neal both go into
the ring to-morrow. Word has been
posted ahead for a lawyer, so Thomas
can’t do the child any mischief if he does
follow, an’ it’s a case of kapin’ shady
onlv wan day longer.”

Then the [rishman went into details re-

garding the settlement of the dwarf’s
suit, after which the adieus were spoken
once more, and the fugitives drove on.
As mile after mile was traversed
the travelers became quite
jolly, fancying themselves
free, during the day at least,
from the ex-hostler, and this
brief vacation from anxiety
seemed very pleasant.

Neal followed the course
laid down on the rude map
without difficulty until they
arrived at a_ cross-roads
which did not appear on his
paper of instructions,

Here he was at a loss to
know how to proceed, and
for a few moments they
waited in the hope that
some one who could give the
desired information might
pass,

Then a team was seen com-
ing from the same direction
they had been traveling, and
Neal half-turned the horse to
intercept the new-comers,
when June exclaimed, in a
tone of alarm:

Sits. 2M: It’s
Mr. Thomas!”

Neal recognized the occu:
pant of the approaching car-
riage at the same instant,
and, pulling his horse sharply
around, plied the whip vigor-
ously.

Thomas!

 

CHAPTER XIV.

DOUBLING BACK,
|

 
  
 

HE fear of an encounter
2 with Sim Thomas pre-
vented Neal from being
<* as cautious as he would
have been under other cir-
cumstances. The one thought
in his mind was to escape,
and he entirely overlooked
the fact that by this sudden
flight he was announcing to
the ex-hostler—if that gen-
tleman did not already know
—who were the occupants of
a the carriage.
; “Don’t run away until you are sure he
has seen us,” Mrs. Wilson said, and then,
‘as Neal reined in the horse to an ordi-
{nary pace, she watched through the tiny
square of glass in the rear curtain, until
| there could be no doubt but that Thomas
| had really started in pursuit.
|; “He must know who we are now, for
this cannot be the direct road to Stock-
ton. There isa strange man with him
who may possibly be an officer,” and then
‘Mrs. Wilson added, nervously, “Drive as
| fast as you can, Neal, for if he overtakes
| us here there'll be no question about his
carrying June away.”

With his eyes fixed on the road in front
|of him to avoid a possible stumble on the
|part of the horse, Neal urged the animal
forward with both voice and whip, and
the chase had now begun in earnest.

“If this is not the road to Stockton,
why did we take it?” June asked, tear-
fullv.

“Because at the time we had no choice,”
Mrs. Wilson replied, “and it is only a
question of keeping ahead until we ar-
rive at some settlement where assistance
can be obtained.”

“Why not go right back to the circus?
I’d rather be with friends than in a
| strange town when he overtakes us.”

However desirable such a condition of

affairs might have been, it was impossi-

 

 

 
 

 

810

ble to accomplish it, and Neal continued
to urge on the already jaded horse, while
the pursuers apparently contented them-
selves with maintaining the same rela-
tive distance between the vehicles.

Thomas made no attempt to overtake
the fugitives, and this fact caused more
apprehension than if he had exerted him-
self to drive alongside, for it seemed as if
he was willing to wait until he could
gain possession of June by lawful means.

During an hour the chase was contin-
ued, aud in that time they had passed
several houses; but arrived at no settle-
ment.

Neal no longer drove at full speed.

Whenever ‘‘homas was inclined to
slacken the pace he did the same, and
both drivers were trying in every possible
manner to prevent the weary horses from
coming to a complete standstill.

The ground was rough. ‘the slightest
misstep on the part of the horse might
end the flight disastrously, and Neal was
too deeply occupied to admit of conversa-

- tion.

The road grew narrower and narrower
until it was hardly more than a lane,
and already there were indications that it
would soon come to an abrupt termination.

“T believe we are on an abandoned
highway,” Neal finally said, in a half-
whisper. “Most likely Sim Thomas
knows all about it, and calculates on cor-
nering us pretty soon. Suppose I drive
faster until we are in the shelter of the
woods, when you and June can jump
out? .He’d keep on chasing this ‘team,
thinking she was still in the carriage,
and, perhaps, you’d find somebody who'd
carry you back to the circus.”

“That seems like taking too many
risks,” Mrs. Wilson said, doubtfully, and

then, turning to look behind, she ex-
claimed in atone of joy, “His horse has
fallen! Drive rapidJy, and we may pos-
sibly escape.”

It was without effect that Neal plied

_ the whip.

_ he weary animal could not be forced
into a faster pace than a slow trot, and,
understanding that in a short time he
would come to a halt, Mrs. Wilson said,
nervously :

“We shall have to try your plan after
all, Neal, except that ycu must take
June, and make your way along the edge
of the woods while I drive on. Don’t go
very far into the thicket, and after lead-
ing Thomas the longest possible chase, I
will come back.”

The fugitives realized that it would be
unsafe to spend any time in perfecting
the details of this plan. ;

As the carriage paren around a bend
in the road where the trees shut it out
from view of those in the rear, Neal
leaped to the ground.

une followed immediately, and in
another instant,the two had disappeared
amid the shrubbery,

“Be sure to keep on the left of the road,
and don’t get lost in the woods,” Mrs.
Wilson called after them ina cautious
tone.

Then, with considerable difficulty, she
urged the horse into a slow trot once
more, and the young people were alone,
many miles from friends who might. aid
them, while, but a short distance away,
was one whose intention it was to inflict
a grievous wrong. ere

In the first place we must find out
whether Thomas follows Mrs. Wilson,”
Neal said, in a whisper, “and then it’s a
case of walking the best we know how.”

June made no replys but grasped his

hand tightly, and the two passed on in
_ the direction from which they had just
ef oe: keeping within twenty yards of the
_fFoad.
' In five minutes they arrived at the edge
ore portion of the timbered land, and
fore them stretched a broad meadow on
which was nothing to afford them a shel-
ter from view of those in the road.

From this point they conld see Thomas,
who had succeeded in getting the horse

on his feet, and was repairing some dam-
age done to the harness.

he men were but a short distance
away, and Neal heard the stranger say :

“My advice is that you give up the
chase, and go directly on te Stockton,
where you’ll have a chance to take the
girl in a legal manner. This horse can’t
travel an hour longer, and by following
the other team we shall be obliged pres-
ently to camp in the woods, or walk back
to town.”

“Wecan go as far as they do,” Sim re-
plied, angrily, “and now that the girl is
a good distance from the show I’m going
to put an end to this kind of business be-
foré nightfall.”

By this time the necessary repairs had
been made; the two men clambered into
the carriage, and by repeated applica-
tions of the whip the weary steed was
forced to continue the journey.

Neal waited until the noise of wheels
died away in the distance, and then,
clasping June’s hand in his, he ran
swiftly across the meadow, not slacken-

_. ing his pace until they were once more in
the friendly shelter of the trees,

 

GoonD

“Are you tired?” he asked, as they
halted for a short breathing spell,

“Don’t mind me,” June said, faintly.
“TI can go as fast as you can.”

Neal made no lengthy stop.

It was his purpose to put the greatest
possible distance between Mr. Thomas
and himself, and, still aiding June, he
pushed on.

Now the travelers stumbled through
the underbrush, making little progress,
but laboring severely, and then the wa
was so clear that they advanced wit
reasonable rapidity.

Twice they stopped at a tiny water-
course to quench their thirst, and once to
gather winter-green berries, for both
were beginning to feel the pangs of
hunger.

The halts were of short duration, and
at long intervals, until the shadows be-
gan to lengthen, when both believed, al-
though neither ventured to put the
thought into words, that it would be nec-
essary to remain in the woods until
morning.

During all this weary tramp they had
been careful to keep the road in sight,
hoping Mrs. Wilson would be able to
carry out the original plan; but these
precautions were useless,

Not a vehicle had been seen or heard,
and they feared the horse had been unable
to continue the journey.

As the gloom deepened the exertion of
traveling through the thicket became
more severe, and when the darkness had
fully settled down Neal said, as he led
June into the road:

“We can hear the noise of a carriage in
time to hide, and it’s no use to stay in
the woods any longer. We'll walk as
fast as we can, and then I suppose it’ll
be a case of sleeping on the ground.”

“Oh, don’t let’s stop for anything!”
June exclaimed, in alarm. “I’m sure I
can keep on a good deal farther.”

Neal was by no means certain of his
own ability to continue the gourney many
hours longer; but rather than let June
display the most endurance he pushed on
until a tiny gleam of light some distance
ahead caused him to cry:

“Tnere’s a house, end we must try to
ane it all night.”

“But when Sim Thomas learns that
we’re not with Mrs. Wilson he’ll be sure
to come back this way, and inquire for
us everywhere. In the house we would
have no chance to escape.”

“Tt can’t be helped,” Neal said, de-
oe “Neither of us can walk another
mile.”

June recognized the truth of this re-
mark, and without further protest she al-
lowed herself to be led up a narrow lane
to the door of a farm-house whose gen-
eral appearance betokened the thrift of
its occupants.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
———_—____~+- oe _____

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

Capt. Garey of the Gallant nth:

Fighting the Indians at Pine Ridge.

By Lieut. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY.

Author of “Cadet Carey,” ‘Lieutenant Carey’s
* Luck,” “Midshipman Merrill,” ete.

_—

(“ Caprarn CAREY OF THE GALLANT 7TH” was com-

menced in No. 44. Back numbers can be obtained.

of all News Agents.]

en

CHAPTER XXXII.
HERBERT BERNARD’S MISTAKE,

HE military band around the hos-
: tiles was drawing closer and closer.
ah. General Miles, with his head-
: quarters at Pine Ridge Agency,
was directing operations in an able man-
ner, and was master of the situation,
though he fretted at having orders from
Washington regarding his conduct of the
campaign against the redskins.

The other officers commanding columns
were holding their men well in hand,
and were ready to strike a blow when the
time came to do so. ‘

In their retreat in the Bad Lands, the
hostiles watched the situation through
their scouts and emissaries visiting the
“Friendlies,” as the Indians who had not
openly declared war were called, en-
deavoring to lead them to follow in their
footsteps, and strike at the pale-faces a
blow to be long-remembered.

The chiefs, feeling their influence on
the wane, were urging on the Ghost
Dance, and doing al] in their power to
ferment further trouble.

One of the commands of soldiers had
moved up near to the Bernard ranch, and
the officers were surprised to know that
Settler Bernard still remained at his
home against all urging to depart for
safer scenes, and also to discover that his
daughter had been captured by the hos-
tiles, and carried.to their camp.

the Ber-

‘between you and the chief.

 

The fact of Jennie’s capture
nards would have kept secret had it been

NEWS:

in their power, but it had become known,
as well as was the fact that Lieutenant
Kit Carey had gone to attempt her res-
cue, and had not since been seen,

His scouts were still in position, and
reported regularly everything of import-
ance, but their white captain had not
been seen since the night of his going in
disguise into the retreat of the hostiles.

The fact that he had gone, disguised as
a Sioux medicine man, the Cheyenne
scouts had kept from every one excepting
the commanding general, well knowing
that if a whisper of it got. out, and was
carried to the retreat, if not already a
prisoner or slain, the Sioux chiefs would
soon find out the intruder.

When Herbert Bernard had seen the
Sioux eapture Jennie he had watched
their departure with vindictive joy, for
he felt. keenly that the young girl had
said that she despised him.

That there was some motive deeper
than his, love for her, that would cause
him to wish to make her an unloving
wife, there seemed no doubt; but. what-
ever that motive he kept it to himself.

Returning home after feeling assured
that Jennie was safe beyond all escape
from him, for he seemed to feel the most
pontans confidence in her Indian guards,
1e was met by his mother, who asked,
anxiously:

jaere my son, have you seen Jen-
nie ” 4

“She went for a ride, mother.”

“It was a long one, then, for she car-
ried a roll of blankets with her, and also
took the large leather saddle bags filled
with her things.” .

“Ts this so, mother?”

“It is.”

“Then she intended to escape from us?”

“Without a doubt, and I regret that
she was forced to feel that she should
have to go from us, But then, my son,
you and your father seemed to wish to
1ave her know that she was not m
child, and must become your wife, and,
as usual, 1 was weak enough to yield.
Now the poor child has run away, and
we will never see her more,” and Mrs.
Bernard began to cry.

Herbert hated a scene and tears, so
quickly took his departure, and went in
search of his father,

“Father, mother says that Jennie has
run away.”

“T knew it! I felt it! But, quick! go.
in chase of her,” cried Vance Bernard,.
strangely excited. ‘ ;

“No need of it, for she has been cap-
tured,” :

nee that is splendid! But where is

e ”

“Well, she went away prepared to de-
sert us forever, for she carried what
things she could with her and rode he
best horse.” :

“And where is she?”

“But she ran upon the band of Sioux

under Red Hatchet, and’ was captured

by them.

“What! did Red Hatchet dare to lay
hands upon the child?”

“Easy, father, and hear what I have to
say. You see the Red Hatchet was obey-
ing my orders.” .

“Your orders?” »

“Yes, for I knew that I could not
watch her, and I got Red Hatchet to
capture her and carry her off.”

“Herbert, you are a fool.” -

“Not such a fool as you think, father.”
' “Why have you done what you have?”

“Well, she does not know mein the

| affair, and so I shall arrange to rescue

her, see?”

“No, I don’t see, nor will you.”

“Yes, I shall rescue her, and then will
win her consent to become my wife, for
it shall be so planned that she will have
to marry me or the Sioux chief.”

“She will take him in preference.”

“You are complimentary to your son.”

“Well, I feel that you have done wrong,
Herbert, for the Red Hatchet loves the
girl far more than you do.”

“Red Hatchet loves her?”

“Yes, and I’ll tell you now what I
never did before, that he once saved her
from some Indians who had eaptured her.
He has always loved her since, and has

begged me to give her to him, but T’

would not tell you, as I feared trouble
Only a few
days ago he threatened if she did not
marry him he would destroy the settle-
ments in revenge, and now you have
placed her in his hands. Do you not see
that you are a fool, Herbert Bernard?”
and the settler spoke almost savagely.

“T certainly do; but I shall rescue her
from him, see if I do not,” was the deter-
mined rejoinder.

—_—_

CHAPTER XXXII.
TO MAKE THE VENTURE.

HE. more that Herbert Bernard

thought over the matter the more

i he felt that his father was right

that he had, indeed, made a fool of
himself.

That Red Hatchet was always a wel-

come visitor at the ranch he had known,
as well as that he seemed to be always
most friendly toward Jennie; but that
the Sioux chief had ever hoped to win
her for his wife had never crossed the
mind of the young settler.

He had never been let into the secret of
Jennie’s rescue by the young chief, and
more, that he was in love with her,

That he had now intrusted her to the
care of the Sioux nearly broke his heart.
~ “Oh, if you would only kick me for w&
fool, father,” he groaned.

“No need of it, for you learn a bitter
lesson in feeling what you have done.
should have thought that you would have
known better than to trust. her in such
hands,” said the elder Bernard, who
2 rh the deepest chagrin over the
affair.

“The Sioux have
friendly, father.”

“Oh, yes, and will be, I hope.”

“And you have held such power over
them.”

“In time of peers yes, but they are at
war now, and the Indian is a study which
no man has ever learned.”

“You know, then.”

“Yes, to-day; but what will they be to-
morrow ?”

“Well, I thought I was preventing her
pr ee
“You have most effectually done so;
but did you have the talk with her I
suggested ?”

“ did.”

“Well?”

: “She despised me, she said, and you,
00.”

“And your mother talked with her,
she told me.”

“Yes, and with the same result.”

“She would not listen to becoming
your wife?”

“She would not.”

* Herbert?”

“Yes, father.”

“Do you know that this plan must not
fall through?” f

“How do you mean?”

“She must become your wife.”

“JT am willing.”

“I have plotted and planned for years,
and I say it shall be as I wish.”

“I said I was willing, unless she has
become the wife of that Chief Red
Hatchet.”

“If she has, it has been to eseape you.”

“Well?”

“Well, she shall not escape you.”

“Do you mean——”

“T mean that there is but one way out
of all this, and that is that Jennie Wood-
bridge shall be your wife, under all cir-
cumstances. You have entrusted her to
the care of Red Hatchet, and now you
must go and get her.”

“Suppose he refuses to give

“Then return for me.”

“For you, father?”

Rene :

“You will get the aid of the army to
rescue her?”

“T will do nothing of the kind, for I
wish no dealings with the army; 1 hate
military men, and would be glad if I
never saw a soldier again,” and the man |
spoke with a vehemence that was vicious. |

“Well, how would you rescue her, may ©
I ask?” e

“That is my
make the effort.”

“T will.”

“Mind you, do nothing rash, and cause
no bloodshed. Simply go and claim your
own; but do it in such a way that the
girl will think you have risked your life
to save her. It will have a good effect
with her, and, after all, you may win. If .

you can win her in that way, and. by

indness, so much the better, for you
oe need to ask a favor of her. some

ay,” a 308

“Then

“ You.

“T am to go as I am?”

“No, for you must not be seen to go
there.”

“By whom?” ;
“That argus-eyed officer, Carey, for he
is watching the trails like a hawk.”

“T know that.”

“If he sees you go there, as a white
man, it may cause trouble, innocent as
your motive may be.” f

“Yes, I can understand that, father;
but how am I to go?” fz

“T will rig you up for the work, and
ou will have no di culty in getting into
he lines of the hostiles.”

“And then?”

“You are to see the Red Hatchet and
claim your sister, as he supposes her to

always been so

her up?”

affair; but you go and

I am to go to the hostile camp?”

“Yes.”
“But you are to arrange with him, if
the is willing to give herup, so thatit —
seat as though you rescued her from
Th? th : ; ,
“Tf i pectin ive her up"
a e refuses to give her u )
“Yes, father.” ee
“Then return, and I will go.”

 

“And you expect to accomplish what ae
tailtodar" ’ i,

 
 

 

 

GOooD

NEWS.

6ii

 

Of course, there was but one thing to

i e done under the circumstances, and
u speak confidently.” that was to continue on to the camp of
peak from a full knowledge of the hostiles with their dead and wounded,
my power is, boy. Now, come to and await an opportunity to get even
night and I will prepare youfor with theirenemy. _

f journey, and before dawn you must| Having started his braves on the re-
‘the lines of the hostiles.” | treat, Red Hatchet made his way to the
understand fully,” was the response rendezvous which he had appointed with
le young settler. the two guards of Jennie Woodbridge.

night what appeared to be anIn-! They and their captive had heard the
chief rode away from the ranch of few shots and yells, and wondered at the
r Bernard, and he took the trail to quick cessation of what they supposed
ad Lands. | was the attack. ;
went along at a canter, as though | Jennie had been glad to feel that Kit
storeach his destination in the Carey had been too wary torun into the
test possible time, and once well ambush, for had he done so they would
iy from the ranch, deserted the trails, ,have heard the firing. ; .
de across country. Then there was a wait until after
re dawn the plateaus of the Bad nightfall, when came the shots and yells,
jarose before him, and he seemed to to end as quickly as they had begun.
well his way, for he did not hesi-| The young git had picked up consider-
but held straight on into the coun- able of the Sioux language during her
the hostiles, where it was certain life on the frontier and the talk of h
or a pale-face to go; the horse- two guards she understood pretty well,
vas not an Indian, but Herbert Ber-'| was sure that they were in some alarm
who had boldly made his venture to as to what had occurred.
Jennie from the Sioux chief, in| Then there came two horsemen through
@ keeping he had made the sad mis- | the gloom, a word ina low tone, and the
of intrusting her. two Sioux met their chief. } :

- He was in a humor that was fiendish,

; and Jennie heard him explain the situa-
tion in a few words, and glad was her
heart, though she showed no sign of
understanding what had been said, asshe

you fail, then I will get the girl,

: CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE sIOUX OAPTIVE.

RL HEN Jennie Woodbridge, who asked in an innocent way :
was flying clong by the side of| “ Where is the scalp of the white cap-
Red ete. her Bae captor, | Se which the Red Hatchet was to show
saw the arrangements made to me?’
ish Kit Carey and his small bandin| “It hangs at the belt of the Red
it of the hostiles, her heart sank atchet. The Snow Flower will never
lin her with dread. | see the white captain again,” was the re-
felt more for the officer just then sponse. ’ 7
he did for herself, and so asked the! Jennie madé no ag and placing him-
chief if his gratitude toward the Self by her side the Red Hatchet took her
‘captain, for releasing him as he Pridle rein and led on toward the retreat
ne, would not cause him to spare in the Bad Lands,
who had treated him well. Jennie noted all as she went along, and
ed Hatchet had no mercy in his 8&W how well chosen the position of the
sition, and, in spite of “fairy | hostiles was to resist attack. .
” to the contrary of the Indian,| But the chief went on ata rapid pace,

|
AY

the order was given to leave their

€8 in the ravine, and advance on foot
Wads of four and five.

Schief led four men, and his was

direct advance, the others going

either side and flanking, one party

; i of
@ -Tigepe iain 0k a she ee, to a large tepee apart from the others,
f'seen, and as the chief supposed| And thus poor Jennie found herself a
. determined upon capturing him
Lb. 4 T E ME .
called his braves about him, twenty- Oe ee
and by slipping up, under ¢over of men hold an influence over them
Own way. their congregations.
S would more than compensate for even the war chiefs fearing to go against
‘the death list, and all were hungry spected and feared, their slightest vaga-
(tion by stealth, and then hold it by | Of late the influence of the war chiefs
'many of them sought, by an Indian war
Oints df attack, and told off his’ in
The power of the medicine men, how-
©n they waited until nightfall, and
by deeds, were acknowledged men of in-
whites has caused evolution to work
L refer to this fact to show how it was
‘up from the rear of the camp in
of the redskins, and it will be reinem-

ithe “Last of the Mohicans” to the , @Scended to the plateau, where the camps
, the hostiles came in view, and going
mp, | :
) OA: sped the fair captive with her called out to an aged Indian squaw as he
Suards, while Red Hatchet remained rode up:
l-directed volley. ‘care for the Snow Flower, who is the
Kit Carey foiled himin this has | friend of our people.
the officer and his men had gone into ¢@ptive in the hostiles’ retreat.
Pamong the rocks to make a stand CHAPTER XXXV.
‘in number, and told them that they | \HE Indians are wedded to their
» two to one against those among the q »2 superstitions, and their medicine
tkness, and making a dash upon far more powerful than the priests
little band, they would have it all/of a church in civilization would over
Jew would fall, but the survivors} A medicine man of tact, cunning, and
a avenge them, and the harvest of courage can movea tribe to his liking,
s of half a dozen or so. | his commands.
0 brave knew that he would be| And these same medicine men are re-
s, they chimed in with their | ries tolerated, and their every wish grati-
umor, and prepared to take the fied, be it what it may.
-Of arms, as soon as darkness per- | has been upon the wane, and it was, per-
£d them to. do so. ‘ haps, that they realized this fact, and
*m his position, commanding that of
varey’s camp, Red Hatchet selected against the whites, to recover their wan-
Pr restige, ~
tors for the various advances, so that a
iderstood the exact situation, ever, has hald firmly, and yeh only those
who could show their claims to be just
* no move until an hour after dark-
fe fluence,

The contract of the Indians with the
among the tepees of the red men as well
as in the haunts of civilization.
possible for a medicine man to wield
great power over the superstitious mir.ds
bered that Sitting Bull, the greatest Ro-

man of them all, was a meédicine chief,

 

0Cks,
Noiseless as serpents they crept on
of felt that they had men to deal |

ly alive to all their cunning de- | that his call to be rescued.was promptly

5 answered, and that a medicine man,
.4ast the chief and his party were; Red Hatchet, Peo ais on theafight at
Qa few feet of the camp, and yet | Wounded Knee Creek.
had come, no arrow or shot. Upon the night following the entrance
4 Hatchet, felt now that he had his| of Red Hatchet and his captive into the
m his power, and feeling that the, hostiles’ camp an Indian with bent form,
quads of braves must have reached carrying a_red staff, and with his black
he suddenly arose and bounded ;bushy hair overhanging his face, as
the rocks. | though to shield it, was making his way
ti into the Bad Lands; —
nd then a terrific how] of rage, He wore the costume of a Brule medi-
Ointment, and alarm commingled. | cine chief, a robe of white beaver skins
-8nemy was not there, and the’ being thrown over his form, and his war-
. quad had sprung upon a party of paint, where visible, was of the most
raves, and ere the mistake was gorgeous hues and disfiguring.
', for each had. noiselessly gained| He had necklaces of grizzly bears’
Sition, two warriors had been slain claws, others of the beaks of eagles and
aple more wounded.
he venom in his nature was robe was the ghost shirt, painted with
in Red Hatchet by this fatal mis- red hieroglyphies and symbols intelligible
ough the silent retreat of his only to the medicine chiefs,
of course, the white captain | is hands were painted blood red, and
wn as the cause of the death; hanging to a string of braided scalps
nding of the Sioux. | was a hatchet painted a carmine hue,

vultures, and beneath his white beaver |

As he went along he chanted a weird
song, yet his keen eyes seemed to take in
the country thoroughly as he approached
the Bad Lands.

And such a country, if so it could be
called, for it was wild and barren to the
extreme of desolation.

The surroundings were seamed and
scarred with ravines, rocks, and desert
patches.

A table land, or what the Indians
called a mesa, arose abruptly from the
plain surrounding, and could only be
reached by two or three passes, one
coming in from the Cheyenne River,
which was wild, precipitous, and danger-
ous to ascend.

Ascending this steep, winding pass, the
medicine chief halted and gazed about
him by the fast receding light, for the
sun was upon the horizon:

The mesa was many miles long, and
several in width in some places, and al-
ae as desolate as the plains surround-
ng it.

ver in one corner, securely sheltered,
the camp of the hostiles was discernible,
for the camp-fires began to brighten in
the gathering twilight.

Indian guards were stationed at the
passes, and scouts in small bands were
encircling the plateau, to warn the camps
of the approach of a foe. :

The approach of the medicine man had
been signaled by the scouts, and the
guards at the pass crowded about him,
and yet with seeming awe and respect,
for not a word «lid they utter.

The stranger half-straightened up,
shaded his eyes, and glanced toward the
eastern skies, yet rosy with the sunset,
and bent low again.

Then he turned toward the other direc-
tion, unshaded his eyes, and seemed to
regard the darkened skies as though he
could read there omens of good or evil.

In silence he Pe on toward the dis-
tant camps of the hostiles.

In the same bent posture he entered
the village of tepees, making his way
along toward the medicine lodge of the
Brules.*

The medicine chief of the Brules was a
cunning old fox, very infirm, however,
from his years, and yet one who could
mold his pee le to his will.

Shouse the strange medicine chief,
wearing the white beaver robet of honor,
entered the sacred precints of the medi-
cine tepee, sidage to in a low voice:

“The Moon Eyes has come to see by
night what the Sun Gazer cannot behold
in the darkness. The Moon Eyes has
come from the foes of our people, and he
wears the ghost shirt to kill, and the red
tomahawk.”

The Sun Gazer, for such was the name
of the Brule medicne chief, at. once wel-
comed the stranger to the tepee, and the
two talked long and earnestly together.

At last the Mocha Eyes arose and glided
from the tepee, making his way about the
Indian village, and gradually. edging
toward the pass nearest the Cheyenne
River.

He passed the guards in silence, held on
down the winding trail, and thus on for
a mile or more, constantly turning. and
glancing back in the moonlight to see
that he was not tracked.

At last he halted at a narrow, deep
ravine, and gave a low call,

A response came from the darkness be-
low, and then from beneath his robe the
medicine chief took a pencil and paper,
and when it was finished placed it upon
the end of his long, red staff, and handed
it down into the ravine.

When he withdrew the staff the paper
was gone, and he said, in the same
guarded tone:

“Let the Flying Fox go like the wind,
straight as the bird flies, to the camp of
General Miles, and to-morrow. night I
will come here again.”

A response came from below in the
ravine, and the medicine chief then
slowly retraced his way toward the hos-
tiles’ camp, making signs at the moon as
he neared the guards at the pass.

*There were among the hostiles, Brules, who
were the most dangerous and desperate of all,
Ogallalas, Uncopapas, and scattering bucks from
other tribes. y

The white beaver is a sacred animal among the
Indians, and only the most honored can wear a
robe of white beaver skins,

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_——_s---_o___——
A TWO-BOTTLE HOUR-GLASS.

The people of Sangir, an island of the
Malay Archipelago, keep time by the aid
of an hour-glass formed by arranging two
bottles neck to neck. The sand runs out
in half an hour, when the bottles are re- !
, versed. Close by them a line is stretched,
on which hang twelve sticks marked
with notches from one to twelve, with a
hooked stick, which is placed between
the hour last struck and the next one.
One of these ee keeps the time for
each village, for which purpose the hours |
are sounded on a gong by a keeper,

 

“

 

' For particulars address ©. FE.

oem

EXCHANGE DEPARTMENT,

~—- ¢ ——

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We will not be responsible for transactions brought
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ontenn asin

GUITAR.—Fred Riley, Decorah, Iowa, has a $9 gui-
tar to exchange for best offer. All letters answered.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—E. F. Swett, 18 Hazel St., Auburn,
Me., has four volumes and a half of boys’ papers;
and a small photograph caniera aud outfit to exchatize
for best offer. Inclose stamp for reply.

LIST.—P. H. Jaquith, 11 Myers Ave., Norwich, Conn.,
has a list of valuable articles to exchange for a printing
press with or without type, self or hand-inker, chase
not less than 4x6. Send for list.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—John Stonehanks, College Point, L.
I., has sixty consecutive numbers of boys’ papers to ex-
change for the first forty-four numbers of GooD NEWS.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—John M. Haynes, 2562 Eight Ave.,
New York, has boys’ papers and civarette pictures. to
exchange for GooD NEws, from No. 1 to No. 5 with a-
Goop NEws binder.

BOXING-GLOVES.—Frank J. Clark, 17 Leonard St.,
Taunton, Mass., has a set of boxing-gloves, bulls-eye
lantern, album of capitols, stamp album, (eupty), and
History of the United States to exchange for a banjo
or best offer.

NOVELS.—J. Glace, 2231 Palethorp, St., Philadelphia,

a., has novels, 600 mixed stamps, and magazines, to
exchange for a banjo, violin, telegraphic outfit, or best
oirer,

STAMPS.—Chas. Schoeneberg, Menomonie, Wis., has
ten different foreign stamps, for one stamp of South
or Central America, and ifty foreizn mixed stamps,
for one large United States copper cent.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—J. E. Lee, 47 Brookline St., Cam*
bridgeport, Mass., has one volume of DOs, papers for
best offer of stamps, seven five cent novels for a ninety
cent purple, 1888, U. 8., and one ten cent novel for a
thirty cent brown, 1888.

FALSE MUSTACHE.—Fred A. Russell, 8 Exchange
St., Fair Haven, Conn., has a false mustache, auto-
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songs, etc., to exchange for every copy of the Secret
Service Series in good condition.

TYPE.—Morris Tilton, 3703 Nic. Ave., Minneapolis,
Minn., has twelve alphabets of agate type, which have
never been, used to exchange for best offer of foreign
stanips.

CIGARETTE CARDS.—J. A. Peterson, care of W. H.
Richardson, 25 Bromfield St., Boston, Mass., has 1175
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marks to exchange for best offer.

FOREIGN STAMPS,—Chas. A. White, 935 North 24th
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TIN-TAGS..-William H. Fedder, Dansville, N. Y., has
250 tin-tags, 190 all different, for best offer in foreign
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Pa., has a pair of clamp ice-skates, No. 11, songs, and
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TRICKS.—Herman Roth, 777 Second Ave., New York
has $20 worth of tricks, one pair of ice-skates, an
other things to exchange for a bicycle or best offer.

BOOKS.—Will M. Lewis, Lisle, N. Y., has books
and novels to exchange for tobacco cards. Story’
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GOOD NEWS.—Chas. F. Mathes, 302 Camden St.,

Newark, N. J., has one volume of Goop News and other —

par and cigarette pictures to exchange for magic
antern in condition. Send description.

GOOD NEWS.—Sam Rosenfeld, 109 Hester St., New
York, has fifteen. Goon News, a lot of other boys’

papers, and libraries to exchange for best offer.

FOREIGN STAMPS.—Albert Kloeblen, Jr., 117 Park
Ave., Hoboken, N. J., will give ten foreign stamps for
every foreign coin sent him.

READING MATTER.—Raymond Dunton, Winter-
pat Me., has reading matter to exchange for old type.
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All letters answered.

BOUND BOOKS.—Grafton J. Green, 36 Arsenal 8t.,
Sake N. Y., has bound books to exchange for
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STAMPS.—Victor Gubler, 1324 Frankford Ave., Phila-

delpiia, Pa., has foreizn and United States stamps,

a cards to exchange for a printing press or
est offer. -

GOOD NEWS.—C, O’Rourke, 17 Burne St., Newark,
N. J., has Nos. 5, 7, and 8 of Goop News Liprary,
and a book entitled, “Held for Ransom,” to ¢«xch

for five others of Goop News Liprary, or best offer.

Sone L. Wheeler, 62 gaan Pee ipraee
fass., has papers, tags, recipes, cigarette cards, )
heads, and novels to exchange for coins, stamps, eliza
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NEWS.—Had Wiley, 8 Broadway, Indiana
lis Pod, han Vol 1-of GooD News) novels, and other
things to exchange for a stamp album, printing press,
a stamp catalogue. Send stamp for list.

TELEPHONE.—Thomas Crowley, 202 Madison
St New York, has a toy telephone about twenty jfeet
long, an Office printer and some type to exchange for
a magic lantern or best offer.

MUSIC STAND.—John Easler, 7 North Third 8t.,
Camden N. J., has a music stand and tamborine to ex-
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Boys and girls in Utah wishing to organize a Goop
NrEws Porrependine Club, should address Bernard
ee 349 South llth East, Salt Lake City, for full par- ©

culars.

THE Western Philatelic Society _is represented in
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South, Secretary, Bur-
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Goop News Corresponding Club of Poller
has elected the following temporary officers : Presi nt
James K. White. 1610 Montrose $t.: Vice-President,
Henry K. Muller, 1949 Christian St.: Secretary, John V.
Lacy, 1619 Carpenter St.; Treasner, Benjamin Orr, 1600
Montrose St. Corresponding Committee. Chairman,
John V. Lacy, Harry Hutchinsor, Daniel Donnelly,
Grotae V. Magrath, George Jaco,
to join this club are y tishedl to dress John .
* r - ,

V. Lacy, Secretary, 1619 Crm

 
 

   

812

DARING DEEDS OF BOYS.

womens

BY NATHAN D, URNER,

NUMBER SIXTEEN.

Walter White, the Young Whaleman.
@

 

 

   
 

 

HE whale-ship Glancer quitted the
Nw? harbor of New Bedtord fora twelve
months’ cruise in the Arctic Ocean,
in the spring of the year 1859, under
the most favorable auspices.

Her captain had made numerous suc-
cessful voyages before; nearly all of her
crew were experienced whalenien; and the
ship itself was a staunch one, brand
new, and considered a fast sailer. The
youngest member of the crew was a lad
named Walter White. He had only made
one voyage before, and was, therefore,
considered a green hand by the old salts;
and, before quitting the dock, the cap-
tain was requested to keep a sharp eye on
him, inasmuch as he had played many
sad tricks during his former voyage, and
was not thought to be a very promising
youth.

But Walter’s father was the principal
owner of the Glancer, and Captain Wood-
ward could not nelp regarding him with
some leniency on that account. Besides,
they had not been to sea more than two
or three days before he discovered that
what had been mistaken for vicious pro-

 

pensities in the lad were nothing more
than youthful exuberance and a merry |
mania for practical joking—in other}
words, that Walter's disposition was!
one which might, if properly treated, be
diverted into noble and useful channels.

Young White knew his privilege, and |
it was not long before the entire ship’s
company became perfectly well aware of
it also. There was hardly one of them
who escaped his practical jokes, and the
old salts especially suftered from their
contemptuous sneers at the youth’s want
of seamanship.

Old Gadsby, the chief harpooner, swung
himself out of his hammock on the morn-
ing of the second day out, and landed
with his stockinged feet into a bucket of
sea-water which had been placed ready
for his reception. Startled oy the sudden
chill, he leaped out, and bumped his gray
head against a marlin-spike, which had
been conveniently set for the purpose;
stazgering back, he nearly broke his
shins over a number of old harpoons that
had been laid across the deck directly be-
neath his hammock, and finally brought
up flat on his back.

A burst of boyish laughter close at
hand apprised him of the author of all
the mischief; but Walter cleverly dodged
the missile that was hurled at his guilty
head, and was up the ladder and away,
heedless of the curses that were hurled
after him.

Then old Gadsby came on deck, and
undertook to soothe his irritated feelings
by blowing a cloud or two from his clay

ipe; but some grains of gunpowder had

een sprinkledin the bottom of the bowl,
and it blew off, making his nose black,
to the amusement of the whole crew and
the boisterous delectation of Master
White.

The victim went to the captain with
his complaint, and the culprit was se-
verely lectured. He expressed the deep-
est contrition and went away apparently
filled with remorse.

A short time thereafter Jack Piper,
another “ancient mariner,” who was
very fond of filberts, a goodly stock of
which he invariably carried in his pock-
ets, was sent aloft with others to furl the
main royal. Hecame down in twenty
minutes, with his eyes red, his face in-
flamed, and his mouth so parched that.
he was scarcely able to articulate a syl-
Jable. It turned out that during the}
might some one had _ overhauled his
filberts, drilled them with cayenne pep-
per; and his comrades_represented that
when at the masthead he bit into the|
first nut the yell he gave rivaled that of
the shrillest sea-bird.

It was easy ehough to conjecture who
the “some one” was.. There was another
lecture, and other expressions of the deep-
est contrition and regret,

But it would fill a volume to narrate!
in detail the numberless jokes perpetrated
by this precious scion of the sea. Rents
were found in well-patched garments that |
were never there before: feet were sleep- |
ily thrust in boots half-filled with water;
and dire and various were the anathemas |
that were heaped upon the head of him!
whose errors seemed as mendless as they |
were endless.

The weather was still mild and genial |
when the prow of the Glancer cnt the
blue waters at the mouth of Baffin’s Bay.

As yet they had seen but few icebergs, |
but now hundreds of them daily went }
sailing southward. The sunlight flashed, |
with mvriad rainbow hues, upon their}
glittering spires of ice, and their freez: |
ing influence was felt like a gritty guffaw |
from old winter himself,

 

 

 

GOOD

Of course, it was perilous sailing, ina
sea so thickly navigated by these cum-
brous flotillas of the pole, and, soon after
entering the bay Captain Woodward
called Walter White to him in his cabin.

“Walter,” said he, very gravely, “
have a personal regard for you, and have
studied your disposition well and closely.
I saw from the first that the boyish

pranks which sO many were won't to|
harshly condemn, were not meant tu be|

vicious, but merely arose from your ex-
traordinary animal spirits, and a desire
to create fun and frolic. I am sure you

would not willingly cause enduring pain |

or suffering.”

Walter had never been spoken to in}
Indeed, few whaling |
captains could be found who would have |
but Captain |

this manner before.

spoken in such a _ strain;
Wood ward was areligious man, in almost
every sense of the word, and could look

at matters from a man’s standpoint, as |

well as a sailor's.

The youth hung his head, but replied:

“Indeed, indeed, sir, I would not wan-
tonly hurt any one!”

“I thought so—I was sure of it,” said
the captain, encouragingly. “Now, listen

to me, Walter, I have given you ample}
license for the exercise of your fun thus |

far—perhaps more than I ought to have
done; but we are now entering a danger-
ous sea, fraught ‘with peril from the
floating ices, and requiring the utmost
caution and watchfuluess to avert the
perils that surrounds us. The slightest
thing not connected with the duties of
the ship might derange this necessary
watchfulness, and, perhaps, imperil the
safety of the ship. I want you to promise
me—not as you have heretofore done, but
earnestly and thoughtfully, that you will
from this very moment give up your
practices, and become a sincere and
steady lad.”

The boy still hung his head, but when
he raised it Captain Woodward saw that
his ingenuous face was illuminated by a
new and noble impulse.

“Captain,” said Walter, “I give you my
word of honor that I will from this mo-
ment comply with your desires, in this
and every other respect.”

“IT trust you utterly, my boy,” ex-
claimed the captain, shaking him warmly
by the hand.

And a revolution was working in the
mind of the youth, as he stepped from
the captain’s cabin to his placein the
forecastle of the Glancer. _

No sooner was the sudd@n change for
the better observable in Walter than the
sailors, who had heretofore been his vic-
tims, with the instinct of low natures,
began to twit him upon the subject of
his sudden conversion, but he did not
falter,.and even Captain Woodward was
surprised at the sudden change,

On the morning of the fifth day, after
enterin Baffin's Bay, the slancer
bounded into an open sea, and a school
of whales were reported on the starboard
quarter.

It was freezing cold, but the wind was
light, and everything was propitious for
a successful chase. Two boats were got
ready, and lowered. The captain was in
command of one, owing to the sickness of
the first mate, who was down with the
scurvy, and Walter was in the other
boat, which was commanded by the sec-
ond mate—a likely seaman named Jack-
son, who cordially detested our hero,

The school was a large one, and the
mate’s harpooner struck the first whale.

The harpooner was Gadsby, the man
who had been subject to most of young
White’s practical jokes, and he under-
stood his business. It was just a poise
of his brawny arm, a sudden sweep, and
the barbed iron was buried deep into the
monster's hide.

Down he dived, the boat narrowly es
caping a cut from the broad ax flukes as
they disappeared, and the side fairly
smoking with the friction of the outrun-
ning line.

Up again, another harpoon fastened in
his blubbery carcass, and another dive,
with the smoke springing from the run-
ning line.

At last the monster wallowed in his
death-flurry, and the boat went guardedly
in to give him his quietus with the
lance. The mate stood in the prow, with
his lance ready. But the whale was roll-
ing so that it was difficult to select a
vital spot. At length, however, the mate
thought he saw his chance, and raised
his weapon. But before he could cast it,
the whale, by a sudden convulsive move-
ment, completely changed his position,
and, flinging his flukes wildly in the air,
one of them grazed the. lancer’s head,
and he went overboard.

The crew for a moment lost presence of
mind, and began to back-water; but in
that moment Walter White, who had
been pulling at the bow-oar, sprang into
the prow, and, seizing another lance, sent
it home with a shout.

The mate was stunned from the blow
he had received, and was sinking slowly
beneath the surface of the water. With-
out a moment’s hesitation, the youth

NEWS.

leaped into the sea, and seized him by
the hair. The drowning man, recovering
from the effects of the shock, struck out
wildly to grasp his preserver; but Wal-
ter, who was an excellent swimmer,
knew better than to let him do so, and
managed to keep his burden afloat till
both were dragged on board the boat.

Captain Woodward had not yet suc-
ceeded in making fast to a whale, but he
was near enough to witness the entire
occurrence on board the other boat. He
now pulled toward it, and cried out:

“White, let the mate lie down till he
recovers, and you take command of the
| boat.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” cried the lad, rising to
the dignity of the occasion, though drip-
ping and half-exhausted. “Haul in the
lines, men, and we'll make fast to
another whale.”

This was done with alacrity, though
the harpooner, old Gadsby, looked very
glum at having the practical joker placed
over his head.

But the “joker” did admirably, and his
boat succeeded in capturing two more
whales before the chase was ended, while
the other boat was equally successful.
The captain did not limit his approba-
tion of our hero’s conduct to verbal
praises; but, as the second mate remained
unable to attend to duty, he appointed
Walter White to fill his place—a duty
which he fulfilled with dignity and credit.

The Glancer continued her way north-
ward, it being the object of the captain
to reach the celebrated whaling grounds
of Smith’s Sound before autumn.

They succeeded in doing so, after in-
numerable perils and hardships on ac-
count of the ice, and it was only late in
the autumn, when the Arctic snows were
beginning to set in, that all of the
Glancer’s barrels were filled with oil,
and she was ready to commence her long
trip homeward.

For the first four or five days on the
southward voyage they had an open sea
and auspicious gales. But the bergs
began to thicken, the floes to grow
broader, until at last on the morning of
the sixth day they encountered a snow-
storm which compelled them to heave to.

The snow came down, not as in winters
of the temperate zone, in flakes; but it
Gescended in showers finer than the finest
Indian meal, so thickly that. one was un-
able to breathe, without protecting his
mouth and nostrils with the open hand.
The vision could not pierce the storm for
a distance of twenty yards from the
ship’s sides, the weather was intensely
cold, and they could hear the crashing of
the mighty bergs of ice as they jostled
each other in the sea.

At length it ceased, and it was night—
it was almost always night now; but the
wild-eyed stars peered out with startling
brilliancy, and the glories of the Aurora
Borealis illuminated the northern horizon
with wondrous hues.

But they revealed a hopeless and des-
perate picture to the offices and crew of
the Glancer. Where before had appeared
blue water and open sea now stretched
what seemed to lig nothing less than a
continent of ice, and, behind them, hun-
dreds of lofty icebergs were slowly
marshaling together, and shutting off all
avenues of retreat to the open sea through
which they had already sailed. The sail-
ors, almost exhausted with the labor of
shoveling the snow from the deck as it
fell, were despondent and heartsick at
the gloomy prospect before them.

“Cheer up, men!” said the captain,
affecting a cheerfulness he was far from
feeling. “We'll have to pass the winter
here, but we have plenty of provisions,
and shall get along well enough.”

Now it was that the buoyant disposi-
tion of the boy-mate came into excellent
jlay, and he moved among the men, tell-
ing jokes, and encouraging them in va-
rious ways.

“A winter at the North Pole!” he ex-
claimed. “Why, I never dreamed of
having such luck! Many and many’s the
man I’ve had tell me that it’s the jolliest
thing on earth. There was Jack Garnet,
who used to come up to the old man’s
house from New London. He passed two
winters in Spitzenbergen, and said he
wouldn't have missed it for the world.
He wanted to go back and live there al-
together—that is, in the winter time; he
didn’t care a cent about the summer.
We'll have one of the merriest times you
ever spuna yarn about. So, cheer up,
messmates, and let’s be jolly while we
may?”

The brief days passed, and then ceased
entirely. One long, brilliant night set in,
soundless, grand, and beautiful, save
when the snow fell. The Esquimanx
visited the ship in their sledges, and the
crew were enabled to increase their sup-
plies of warm clothing by bartering for
dressed seal and bear-skins, of which
these natives had plenty to sell.

But the coid was terrible. The second
mate—who had never entirely recovered
from the effects of the blow he had re-
ceived—was the first to succumb. He
died in the early part of December; and

 

 

 

 

nace

before the beginning of March thnee of hen
the seamen perished, and the remains) 0%, sive
all were assigned to the icy deep. it of >
In the meantime Walter White Was;
the life of the whole ship’s company, 82&
many of the old mariners afterwa eir bo:
averred that they believed they Wo ot
have died but for the influence of BS at
indomitable courage and cheerfulnes® lord t]
At last the ice began to break up. The ;
days returned, growing longer and lounge At a
A tempest arose, and the Glancer was in, es th
imminent danger of being crushed “i Re
fragments, as the huge mountains 8? vs did
vast fields of ice, dashed against 8 Bed
other by the force of wind and Waves ee h
were shivered into smaller fragments ors
But Captain Woodward was an excellen ri f
sailor, the crew were energetic and cares. tnt
ful, and upon the third day after the ro |
spring tempest they were bowling south~ <
ward through Baffin’s Bay, with an aa h
sea before them and a splendid cargo ON, 2
oil under their feet. gn i,
So, Walter White the mischievoU e ¢
joker and the “bad boy,” considerably,y Seen
astonished his father and the towns hich tl
people of New Bedford by returning front t.
the twelve months’ voyage as secon iF ee
mate of the Glancer—of ‘which, in timer ’™s "’
he became the commander. nt

——_—_~_ oe ———___—_—_—_

ot cease
fared t

(This Story will not be Published in Book-Form™] the -

PETER POTTER THE PAGE; bss"
THE SCAPEGRACE OF THE SENATE

lead

 

 

By “JACK.” ow
Author of,“Grimesy,” etc., etc. his bc
Simeon ltistene
(PETER Porrer” was commenced in No. 45 BAM on sit
numbers can be obtained of all News Agents] i down
Semin tly far
NUMBER SEVEN. ped bh
A LIVELY REGATTA. The bo
+ r

AN NE of the page’s greatest delight ire
(3) in mild weather is boating 07 a2). wa:
Potomac. omike,
“<“4Am~ At such times the eS fr ll the
both Houses would procure such cal? in the
were obtainable, varying all the a d up
from trim little shells down to cute ® excit
skiffs and flat-bottomed scows, the ofll went
on the ground getting the first chole® testar
course. d theives we

As each crowd (the Senate boys 42 ther ¢ day
House boys) generally went tore thetach by
there was a sharp rivalry beet eboices} he -w

two, each crowd trying to get of

Inasmuch as the ‘excursion usually a A pat
minated in a race, or, as the boys oF ntal BoC
it, a regatta, this was an imporant por Ttate ;
as there was little show for succe Ald ‘no
the boys with the nondescript boats ther and t

It was early in April, and the bid #0ld no
a ae ul, when Peter propos Someth
regatta.

Vhen all the details had been arrange maha
except procuring the boats, it was 10 Pot,
that nothing was said on ,that point rato Rio:
was, therefore, mutually understood :
wo 9 party wont do its best to ge

ick of the boats, tray,

x The House boys outnumbered the eden
ate boys about three to one, while, thethe lat
other hand, the Senate boys wee thisiter ke
most expert oarsmen. Peter realize pestite ¢
fact, and made it a point to get the, wa
boats. Of course, the Senate croOW™ sygeeq
on the alert for the same object hin
neither could go before recess. tha Unforti

Peter did not propose to wait t he
long, however, and managed to eo ore ter’ s 5
the boathouse before in a very © ous two a
manner. He gave it out among the HB agers,” a
pages that if any member desire ah Ahe exc
to go anywhere in the neighborho til the:
the levee he was to go. em-id the v

Fortunately about three o’clock ® My ging end
ber wanted a page to carry a note Sta’ os
party near the river, and Peter volunte? iMnate *
to carry it. After delivering the 0?” sani th. 7
was but a matter of a few minutes te oat” tle dic,
down a block or two farther to the hs hot |
house, and hire al] the best boats. oft

When recess came there was @ MS tled’
scamble on the part of the Senate P me Bhorre
to reach the levee, and they were 50h Mpish,
what surprised at not seeing any? bp
House boys, and equally delighté
think they had a “scoop” on the
But their surprise was greater, an
delight turned to disgust when
found that the boats had already jon
taken, and they had to content ™ =
selves with the skiffs and scows. thant),

Nevertheless, nothing was saldy veil" Wy 3
Senate boys having such faith in itty 5,
superior skill as oarsmen, and when # of his
came everybody was on hand, hapP3” /It ase
hopeful.

The pages all embarked and shot
intu the river. There was a dead ©
the river was like a mirror, and the
shone bright and clear: while the alt
just crisp enouch to inspire energy: fh

There was no attempt at racing f
first hour, all parties pulling up §
for a few miles,

  
   
    
   
   
   
 

ov
Goop

NEWS.

813

 

When the foremost had arrived ata
tain point, where there is a bend in

ie river they rested on their oars by a
wast of mutual consent, and awaited the
5 ival of the laggards. When the latter
sydeu reached the spot the others wheeled
sidieir boats about, and turned their noses
hMigewn-stream. ‘This was the signal fora

B, and, without the exchange of a

rd, the latest arrivals wheeled into

ht a signal from one of the Senate
es their boats shot out from the line,
dt, to their astonishment, the House
Ws did not dip an oar. This had been
eanged between the House boys them-

ives, however, that they were to allow’

ellen¢® Senate boys the start on account of
carezeir inferior boats.
» firsi'Vhen the Senate pages had got about
outn4° hundred feet the start the House
opens started.
go of there was a lively race for the first
- ile, each party holding its own, with the
pyousmate crowd still in the lead. Then
rably®y came to a place where there was a
ywns-tt of an eddy or series of cross-currents,
ch the square-prowed, flat-bottomed
“ats could not stem as rapidly as the
jé,ills of the House boys, and the latter
And they did
cease to gain, even when they had
Mared the eddy.
orm.) he most expert oarsmen were in a
ge, ill-shaped scow, and there were
E *of them, so that in spite of the clumsi-
) Bsof the boat they managed to keep
§ lead; but not much the lead, for
_@tcely twenty feet behind them came a
tg, narrow, graceful boat with two
™s atthe oar. One of these boys was
er, and the other a great overgrown
D) with fat cheeks, small nose, and
Sand a mouth like a slit ina foot-ball.
his boy, whom the other pages had
ureeistened “Napper,” on account of his
~ }beusity for going to sleep every time he
* Own, was very muscular, and being
tly familiar with the use of oars, lent
prod hand to Peter, who was an ex-

the boys in the scow were straining |.

ightasty muscle to keep their boat in the

n these, but they could not help seeing that
re was gaining on them with every

‘fromyKe,

+ pall the other boats had now been left

way, in the rear, and the interest was cen-
umsye2 upon Peter’s boat and the scow.

firs’ ©xcitement grew intense. Yell after
ce, O04 Went up from the partisans of each
— @estant, and the contestants them-
d theives were straining every nerve to gain
ther day.
, theach by inch Peter gained on the stow,
soice- 4 h

‘irstern. A few more strokes would

salleOt him alongside.
ints he occupants of the scow grew des- |

g {0 . They saw that their best efforts
, a not prevent Peter from catching
athe™ and they knew that once alongside it
yed *0ld not take him long to clear ahead. |

' »Smething besides strenuous rowing;
ange[uld have to be done, and they resolved
pice a piece of strategy. They would

t. 20 Peter's craft off.
| th@4%o sooner resolved thandone. With a
; Are4Xterous stroke of the oars on one side,
© Scow was suddenly veered across-
senslrent, completely blocking the course
n the Peter’s boat.
e ie le latter was only a yard behind, and,
1 t iter was too intent upon winning the
bes to notice his opponent’s movement,
1 WAS he consequently did not slacken his
, bud’ed. Another stroke and his boat went
MAE praing into the scow.
tha®nfortunately for the scow’s crew the
et (ft was a rotten old tub, and when
Jevetter’ s boat struck her it cut her square
sj OU "WO, in fact, knocked her into splin-
, Pee en
0d

mem the wrecked crew were fished, drip-
p $0 8 and disgusted, from the water.
see! iD
te A ate boys tried hard to throw the blame
o Mt, the accident upon Peter; but, after a
08" Sle discussion, it was shown that he
~ not in the least at fault.
“Yerything was about being amicably
ted’ although the bovs who had been
Thoard were naturally inclined to be
Mpish, and sat silently shivering in
- oats, when the leader of the Senate
Said:
Well, this race is off, I s’pose.”
; No, you've won,” drawled Napper, to
aly One’s surprise.
ow do you make that out?” de-
Nded one of his own crowd, indig-

ofl

‘ly,
W'y, ‘cause they got out first,”

“wled Napper,
Of his face,
ttook the crowd a minute and a half

without moving a mus-

See the joke, and then the House pages |

Ted with lavnghter, while the Senate
'8 were mute as mice.
l don’t see anything to laugh at,”
Wled one of the “ducked” crew, when
“ax ,“proar had subsided. “I don’t see
thing very funny about being dumped
7° the river cold night like this.”

the excitement was great for a while, |
Mil the other boats had reached the spot |

His put an end to the regatta, and the!

| “That depends upon who’s dumped,”
'said Peter, quietly. “If Napper and I
‘had been dumped you could see where
| the laugh came in; but, as it was, you
| who were dumped, why——”

.“They’re kinder dumpish,” interrupted

Napper.
| “You shut up, pumpkin-head!” yelled
;one of the wet boys. “We don’t go
; around eating cockroaches like you, if we
did get ducked.”

“I don’t go around eatin’ cockroaches,”
growled Napper.

“You eat one that I know of,” shouted

one of the dry Senate boys.
“Oh, well, that was ona wager,” said
Napper, his blood getting up. “Jimmy
Starkey dared me to, and I won’t take a
dare from nobody.”

This was said in such a threatening
tone, and the boy was so much larger
than any of ‘his tormentors, and, more-
over, as it was known that he would a
little rather fight than eat, that a dead
silence followed.

The Senate pages, having no further in-
terest in the excursion, now pulled for
the shore, leaving the river to the House
boys, who proceeded to enjoy it all alone.

Pulling up the river again they had a
regatta among themselves; but as Peter
and his companion easily pulled out of
sight of the others, this was declared to
| be no fun, and they were about to pull
| ashore, when they noticed a skiff shoot
; out from the Maryland side of the river,
| and they concluded to wait and see who
| was in it.
| For some time the skiff was too much
' concealed in shadow to make out who the
‘occupants were, but when about a third
| Of the way across the moon burst full

’

 

prise. And then as the boats neared them
their look of surprise changed to one of
consternation, A little nearer approach
enabled them to see the Ku Klux masks,
and the expression on their faces changed
to abject terror.

For a minute or two after this latest
discovery the negroes seemed to. be com-
pletely paralyzed with fear and unable to
move.

But at that moment some one among
them, with a.little presence of mind and
a big voice, yelled:

“Fall to yer oahs, niggahs! Doan yer
see what’s comin’? Swing about an’ pull
fer de udder sho’ or we’s dun fos’ !”

The next instant they had swung the
skiff about, headed her for the Maryland
shore, and began to pull like fiends, con-
stantly urged on by the stentorian voice
of the same negro who had given the
first command.

But rapid as had been their movements,
the are were already alongside, some on
one side and some on the other, and now
there was rowing for dear life on the
part of the negroes.

The boys kept up their tooting and yell-
ing which increased the negroes’ fright
every minute, and long before they had
gained the Maryland shore two or three
of the pages’ boats had rounded ahead,
cut off their progress, and commanded
them to halt.

The negroes were now almost pale with |
terror, and all of them speechless except |
the one who had commanded before.
Even he showed unmistakable signs of |
fear, for his voice trembled woefully |
when he said:

“Wh—what ye want of us po’ cullud |

 

 

folks, Mr. Koo Klux?”

 

 

 

@ was now within a yard or two of)

|

SSS
SEQ
}
tf r

H|
/

es
—— SS _

 

|

 

THE COLORED WEDDING PARTY ENCOUNTERING

upon it, and the boys discovered that its
occupants were negroes.

“Coons, boys,” said Peter. “Let’s have
some fun?”

“How?” asked Starkey, who was in
another boat.

“How? Haven't you got your Ku Klux
masks with you? I told you to fetch
them along in case of emergency,” said
Peter.

“We've got ’em,” cried several voices.

“Allright; put them on; and when I
say ‘on to the traitors!’ pull straight for

i the coons and yell like Injuns.”

There was a lively fumbling for a min-
ute or two, at the end of which time
there were a half-dozen boat loads of as
villainous-looking wretches as ever the
| moon looked down upon. The boys* had

not only brought their masks, but they
had also brought their tin horns.

On came the skiff, and in a little while
the boys could distinctly see the occu-
pants, The skiff was a very large one, and

| contained about twenty negroes, men and

; women, and from their dress and the
display of wreaths of flowers, it was evi-

| dently a wedding party, either going over

_to Washington to have the ceremony per-

,formed, or to enjoy a portion of the
honeymoon.

They were evidently very happy from
| the amount and loudness of their laugh-
‘ter, too much so, indeed, to take any note
of the boys.

When they were within fifty yards of
where the pages’ boats lay, Peter gave
the word and the boats shot off toward
the skiff. every boy not occupied with an
oar blowing a horn, and the rest yelling
like young savages.
| The negroes rested on their oars, and

rolled their white eyes around in sur-

THE KU-KLUX IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RIVER. |

“Your blood !” cried Peter, in a terrible
voice.

“Oh, Lordy!” moaned several of the
negroes, and all the women screamed.

“Wh—what you want harm us fo’?
We ain’t nevah done nuffin to youens,”
said the negro with the heavy voice.

“Can’t help that,” said Peter, in the
same terrible voice. “We eat a nigger
apiece every other week; this is our
week, and it’s Saturday. Therefore
there’s no hope for you.”

“Fo’ de Lawd’s sake spare us!” wailed
some of the negroes.

“Why should we spare you?” demanded
Peter.

“*’Cause we ain’t done nuffin,” moaned
the negro.

“Yes, you have.”

“Wh—what we dun done, sah?”

“You’ve been getting married,” cried
Peter, savagely. ;

“Fo’ de Lawa, Mastah Koo Klux, ain’t
no harm in dat, is dey?”

“Why, certainly. Haven’t you heard
that Congress had passed a bill prohibit-
ing colored folks from marrying under
the age of ninety?”

“No, sah, nevah heered nuffin "bout
dat,” said the negro, with eyes as big as
saucers.

“Well, it’s so,” said Peter. “They
heard about you folks going to get mar-
ried, and sent us over to arrest you.”

“Dat's eurus,” said the negro, thought-
fullv. “Nevah knowed dat Congress got
de Koo Klux to do dey’s ’restin’ afore.”

Peter saw that he had made a mistake,

 

and must get out of it some way. The
negro’s presence of mind unnerved him
|temporarily, but he was not long in col-
| lecting his wits.

 

“Who said anything about Congress

sending us to arrest you?” he yelled, sav-
agely. “I said Conrress had passed the
bill, and that they (meaning the Ku Klux
Head Centers) had heard of your intended
wedding, and sent us to arrest you. So,
come along!”

The negroes begged for their lives most
piteously.

Finally the spokesman asked:

“Whah yo’ goin’ take us?”

“Yo the Ku Klux dungeon, of course,”
remarked Peter, coolly.

“Den what, sah?”

“Oh, you’ll be tried, and, if found
guilty, you will be made into soup, or
something of that kind.”

“But ef we’s foun’
what, sah?”

“Oh, in that case, they’ll only cut your
ears off and let you go.”

“Whafoh dey cut ouah eahs off, sah?”

“So that you won’t marry before you
are ninety. A coon’s ears will grow out
again by that time. But come, you ask
too many questions. We have no time to
talk. Come on.”

Again the darkies pleaded for their
lives, and the women among them set up
such a heart-rendering wail that Peter
pretended to soften, and finally said:

“It breaks my heart to have to carry
out this order, and if I knew of any way
to avoid it I should feel inclined to do it.
But if I should let you off, you’d go and
give me away, and then I’d be made into
soup, with all my comrades here.”

“’ Deed, an’ we wouldn’t, sah,” said the
negro. in a hopeful voice. “’Deed, sah,
we wouldn’t nevah say nuffin ‘bout it to
nobody. Please, Mistah Koo Klux, let
us go!”

“Will you swear never to betray us?”

“Yes, sah.”

“Hold up your right hand.”

The negro put up his right hand.

“ All of you,” yelled Peter.

“You do soleninly swear in presence of

innercent, den

the great Potomac alligator, that you

will never reveal to any one, black or
white, living or dead, with or without
whiskers, the solemn and awful fact that
we, the knights militant of the Ku Klux
Klan, did, on the third day of April,
eighteen hundred and break your neck,
liberate and set free twenty odd homely
coons; and that if you do, you hope to be
kicked by mules, bitten by mosquitoes
and stuck by hornets, so help you Jack
Robinson. o you swear?”

“Yes, sah,” came the chorus of voices.

“Now, where do you want to go?”
asked Peter.

“We-—we did want ter go ovah ter

| Washin’ton, sah,” said the negro, with

the heavy voice.

“What do you want to do over there?”
demanded Peter.

“Please, sah, dah’s a bal] ovah dah,

‘sah, an’ we wants fah ter ’tend it.”

“A ball?” echoed Peter. “My dear col-
ored brother, do you not know that it is
high treason to attend a ball in the cap-

_ital of your country?”

“No, sah, I—I didn’t know nuffin ‘bout

; dat; I—I doan know nuffin ’bout treesum

nudder.”

“No, sah.”
“Do you know what extraditability is

aw

‘roared Peter.

“N—no, sah,” stammered the puzzled
negro,

“Well, they’re about the same. When
you’re guilty of treason you are ex-
traditable from any consular or vice-con-
sular dominion of the EF Pluribus Unum,
see?”

“No, sah, dat’s too much dicshuna
fo’ dis chile; but, boss, we'd like pow’fu
well to go to dat ball. Hit was got up
*speshully foh me an’ my gal heah.”

“Then you are the guilty party, are
you?” said Peter.

“Guilty ob what, sah?” asked the negro,

“Matrimonial cohesion,” thundered
Peter. .

“No, sah. Fo’ ce Lawd, we ain’t done
nuffin ob dat kin’, sah; we jes’ only got
married, dat's all, sah.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I guess we'll
have to let you go to the ball; but I’m
afraid you're going to be a little late.
“Why didn’t you tell us in the first
place that you wanted to go to a ball?”

“Dat’s wha’ we would ’a’ dunef hit
hadn’t bin fah dem Koo Klux false-faces,
sah; dem mos’ scahed de life outen dis
crowd, I’m tellin’ ye.”

“All right, clear out now,” said Peter.
“But remember your oath.”

“Yes, sah,” cried the happy darky, as
their skiff swung around and headed for
the opposite shore.

“Well,” said Peter, loud enough to be
heard by the negroes, “it’s too late now
to go to the other place, I s’pose we may
as well go over and bang those fellows
we took this evening.”

“Yes,” said Jasper, “that will be the
best thing to do.”

The negroes glanced back at them with
a look of horror, and leaned on their oars
with all their energies.

Peter and his crowd kept close upon
théir heels, which kept the negroes in 4
constant state of apprehension, evidently,

 
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
 
  
   
    
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
    
   
     
     
    
     
  
    
  
    
    
  
   
  
   
  
   
    
  
    
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
    
 
  
  
  
  
    
      
     
      
      
     
     

     
 
 

  

  

   
 
   

 
 

          
     
       
     

 

‘Sl

for they never uttered a word from the
moment of starting, and continued to
glance back with expressions of wild ap-
prehensicn and dread,

The boys continued to follow them to
within a bundrea yards of the district
shore, and then suddeuly wheeled about
and rowed up to the boat-house, which
was some distance above.

“Now, what?” said Peter, when they
had delivered the boats.

“Go home,” said Starkey.

“Too early for that,” said Peter, look-
ing at his watch. “It’s only eleven
o’clock.”

“What can we do?” asked Napper.

“TIT know,” said Peter. ‘Do you remem-
ber old Artichoke that furnished the
room for the Christmas party?”

“Yes,” answered a chorus of boys,

“Well, you know I took him home
with me that night after his landlady
locked him out, and——”

“That’s just the racket,” shouted Star-
key. “We'll go around and rout him out
and get his landlady on her high horse
agaip.”

“No, we won’t do anything of the
kind,” said Peter; “for the simple reason
that he has moved. He lives up over an
oyster saloon and has no landlady; he’s
a landlord of the male persuasion and
Dutch by trade. I'll tell you what we
will do, though. The old chap promised
to give me and afew friends an oyster
supper as a recompense for my hospitality
that night, and we’ll just arouse him
for that purpose. Six of us will go in
first, so as not to break his heart at
one fell swoop, and the rest can drop in
one at a time afterward.”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
———_s-0-_e__—_—-

T [ALKS
HOR Ove

cmon aictmreint

BY ARTHUR SEWALL.

 

T. F. V. 8., of New York City, asks: “Which
trade would you advise me to learn, and what
would 1 receive for work when Nnished? Elec-
tricity or fresco-paluting. Lam-sixteen years old
and go to night school ?”

They are both exceeding lucrative
trades, and the remuneration depends en-
tirely upon your ablity. Concerning elec-
tricity you would probably have to ac-
quire your knowledge in some works such
as Edison’s. There are no schools in
New York City where the trade, so to
speak, of electricity is taught, although
there is an extensive course lasting three

ears at the Columbia College School of

lines, which fits one to be an electrical
engineer. Another season, when you have
completed vour attendance at the night
school, you might see if you could not
enter the scientific course at the Cooper
Union, which tends rather toward chem-
istry, but it is the only free evening sci-
entific course that we know of.

As to fresco painting, instruction is
given at the New York Trade School on
First Avenue, between Sixty-seventh
and Sixty-eighth streets, on Monday,
Wednesday, and Friday evenings, from 7
to 9.30 P. M. The cost of the tuition is
twelve dollars for the course which began
last Octoher, and will be continued until
April. The instruction consists in pre-
paring walls and ceilings for kalsomine;
in lining, to which particular attention
is paid; in laying out work; in making

ounce and stencil, and applying same;

n putting on flat and shaded ornaments,
etc. The fresco-painting is executed on

lastered screens and ceilings. No mat-

er what you may decide upon, itis a
good plan for you to first go and visit the
school, and see the work that is being
done there.

There is another element which must
be considered before you decide upon
what yon will follow, and that is the
personal disposition, If you have a fond-
ness for mathematical studies then you
will be more likely to succeed as an elec-
trician; but, on the other hand, if you
are of an artistic temperament, you had
better take up the fresco work,

Cc. W, A., of New York City, writes: “IT am a lad
of eighteen and wish to go to sea, Would you
kindlv advise me what studies to pursue to become
a navigator?”

Just what vou mean by navigator is not
very clear. If you mean to go to sea and
learn how to sail a ship, then you had
better study on the schoolship St.
Marv’s in New York. It is their work
to educate first-class sailors, and. hence
they .make annual cruises for the. pur-
ose of imparting a practical. knowledge
n navigation, and of the duties of marin-

ers to those who belong to the school,
To those who show some aptitude for a
sea-life, they claim the advantage “ which
this school presenta fora fine physical

 

   

   
    

Groop

training combined with all the instruc-
tion necessary to fit a lad to be a good
seaman, ‘fore-mast hand’ or officer, has
never before been offered in this. country
outside the regular navy.” This school
also provides for boys returning from
their first voyage in a merchant-vessel
who are desirous of continuing their
studies in practical navigation, so as to
qualify themselves for the place of mate
or captain. To any such instruction in
practical and theoretical navigation, and
such other branches as may be deemed
necessary for their advancement will be
given, For full information on this school
write or call on F. W. Devoe, at 101 Ful-
ton street,

J. W. B., of Haleyville, N. J., writes: “About
the medical profession. Philadelphia is the city
where I want to study, as I am a South Jersey boy.
I would like to know what college is the best, and
what it would cost, and how many years does it
take to learn to be a physician.”

There are three medical colleges in
Philadelphia for men, and one for women.
Of these, the Jefferson Medical College
was opened in 1826, and is the most
largely attended medical school in that
city. The course extends over three years,
and in 1888 there was graduated one hun-
dred and eighty-eight physicians. The
annual charge for tuition is one hundred
and forty dollars. Among its graduates
are many of the most famous physicians
and surgeons of this country. The medi-
cal department of the Guilvarsity of
Pennsylvania is almost equally as fa-
mous. It is under the presidency of Dr.
William Pepper, who has a world-wide
fame. The course is of the same length
as the others, but the cost is one hundred
and fifty dollars a year. The faculty,
however, is larger, and number sixty-six
professors and instructors. The third in-
stitution was first opened in 1881, and is
known as the Medico Chirurgical College
of Philadeiphia. The annual dues for
tuition are only one hundred dollars,
but, on the other hand, there are fewer
students, In 1888 the graduates num-
bered only twenty. The choice of an in-
stitution at which to study medicine
usually depends upon the personnel of
its faculty, and the clinical advantages
that are afforded. These, at both the Jef-
erson Medical College and the University,
are of the best, but at the third institu-
tion are, perhaps, not as good. You will
do well to write to the secretary of the
faculty at each of the schools mentioned
and secure their annua] prospectuses, from
which you will be able to gain a definite
idea of the specialties of each,

W. 4H. W., of Sioux Falls, 8. Dak., writes: “I am
fifteen years old, with a fair education, and work
in a drug store. I have been in the drug store for
over three years. What are the wages pald to
boysin drug stores, and how much do they re-
ceive when they have learned the business ?”

In order to acquire a knowledge of the
drug business you had better go to a col-
lege of pharmacy. There is one at Minne-
apolis, Minn., and by fara better insti-
tution is-the School of Pharmacy con-
nected with the University of Michigan,
at Ann Arbor. At either of these insti-
tutions you will receive an education
that will enable you to put up prescrip-
tions and run a drug-store. And without
such training you will find local laws
that will tend to keep you in a subordi-
nate place. As to the wages and value of
your services we cannot sav, for the
reason that those vary in different sec-
tions of the country. If in New York
you entered asa boy you would receive
from two to three dollars a week, and
would be advanced from time to time.
Opportunities would he afforded you to
study at the New York College of Phar-
macy in the evening, and on graduating
therefrom you would he able to command
a salary of from eighteen to twenty-five
dollars a week,

R. P. H., writes: “Tam at present enraged in
running a stationary and news store, Iam seven-
teen years of age, have a good common school edr-
cation, and a good knowledge of business. ete. T
want to Change my occupation, as it is too confin-
Ing, for a situation ona datly paper in the city, as
reporter. What are my chances for obtaining a
place? What are the wages paid to a novice?
What are the duties, etc., of a reporter ?”

And A. W., Pawtucket, R. 1., writes: “Tam
seventeen years old, and am af present working
in a printing office, setting some type, but mostly
running a cylinder press. This is my second ‘year
at my trade, as lintend to be and I am satisfied
with it. My ambitionat first and has been since
I thought, the matter over to be a reporter, but. as
1 coulda get nochance of learning reporting I con-
cluded to Jearn printing, and really do not regret
my choice. Lately I have begun the study of short-
hand on which I spend all my spare time. After
I have mastered printing. wonld you advise me to
try and getachance at reporting? If I keep on
witb short-hand | thought that it would be agreat
help to me.”

In reply to both of these correspondents
we would refer them to the “Short
Talks” in Goop News. for December 18,
1890, and for February 14, 1891.. There is
very little that we can add to what we
have already written, To R. P, H.,
whose address is not given in his letter,
we would advise him to begin his career
by doing some writing for his. local

 

paper, and even if it is not paid for, the

NEWS.

some indication of his powers. lf it takes
well, then, of course, he can come to the
great newspaper centers and make con-
nections there. To be more specific, and
yet more general, it is bad policy for a
young man living outside of a city to
come to the city without some previous
acquaintance or familiarity with his
work. City boys are much brighter than
country boys; hence, in competition for a
place, the city boy has the advantage be-
cause he knows the ropes. Again, it is
never good policy to give up a sure thing
for an uncertainty. To our Pawtucket
friend, we give the same advice: Write
for your local paper first, and then deter-
mine from your success as to whether
LO are suited for reportorial work.

hort-hand is a good thing to know in
the memepsper business, but by no means
an essential.

M. V. Y., Wilmington, Del., writes: “I am six-
teen years of age and still at school. J like study
and would like to obtain a college education.
Would you advise meto do so or learn atrade. I
am the oldest one of five brothers, and if J suc-
ceeded in getting a college education I would have
to start to work as soon as I was through, as I am
notrich. Ifa poor boy persists and succeeds in
getting a college education, can he support him-
self on that when thrown on his own resources ?”

When writing to a newspaper never
write on both sides of the paper, for
very frequently half of the question is
lost in editing the letter. In reply to your
question: Go to college by all means, Go
to the best and largest college that you
know of. If you cannot go to Harvard or
Yale, go to the University of Michigan,
but be sure that you select an institution
where you will meet the boys who are to

make no mistake. Take the Class of ’56
at Yale. Not only is Chauncey M. De-
ew a member of that class, but two of
its members are on the United States
Supreme Court. The Class of ’55 at Har-
vard contained Philip Brooks and Alexan-
der Agassiz. Look over the record of
any class of Yale or Harvard and you
will find two or three men in it of national
reputaion. Read what we have said in
Goop News of February 7, 1891, and
go tn college. You need not fear for the
future, and you have our sincere hopes
that you may be among those of your
class-mates who will attain a national
reputation.
——___+- e-» _____

The Ghosts of “Waterford’s Clearing,”

BY C. A. STEPHENS,

——

 

Sf WONDER what the good people of
if the town of L—— would give fora
satisfactory explanation of the ghost
mystery which puzzled them so com-
pletely some years ago. The facts were
these;

Above the village of L——, a small
lake stretches back among the hills to
the foot of the high spruce-clad moun-
tains of the R—— range. Upon the east-
ern side an elevated ridge extends along
the water, heavily wooded save in one
spot, where a smallish opening, and
within it an old log house, overlook the
lake beneath. This opening is plainly
visible from the opposite side of the
water, which is low and studded with
farm-houses; and also from the village on
the outlet below. At thetime to which I
refer, it was known as “ Waterford’s
Clearing, ” and had rather a singular his-

ory.

Many years before, a man calling him-
self Waterford, went up there, felled the
trees and built the log house. He must
have been a born poet to have selected a
spot so romantic and beautiful. Nobody
knew much about him, however. Buta
wife, said? to have been unusually fair,
accompanied him; and the people on the
other side used frequently to see them at
evening walking together in front of their
solitary cabin.

Whatever became of them was a mys-
tery. They disappeared suddenly. Some
thought they were murdered by Indians,
a party of whom used occasionally. to
visit the village. But, however, that
might have been, their distant, though
easily observant neighbors, suddenly
missed them from the clearing, and a
visit to the place revealed nothing. They
had gone, leaving their house to silence
and desolation.

No one cared to go there; and in due
i time the place came to be “haunted,” and
| took its position among the local super-
stitions. And thus year after year passed,
bringing no change to the little deserted
clearing, till the time of my story, when
I was a temporary resident at the village
~or, in other words, a boy at school
there, home-sick, and otherwise dis-
affected. Thén,,anon, a rumor began to
spread, that something singular. was
oing on nights up at the old. log house
n “Waterford’s Clearing.” Lights had
been seen dancing about the place for
nearly a fortni

 

ht.
At frat it hal heen thought to be some

fact of its being printed will give him! wandering hunter spending the ni

be the men of the future, and you will|P

— |

ht
there; and little notice was taken of the
circumstance. But, after seeing the
light there regularly for a week, people ¢
began to think that some one na, gone f
there to live. Yet during the day, every~ >).
thing about looked as lonely as ever; and x
one man, going across and climbing up
to the “clearing,” reported no signs of 7
human habitation. This last report) |
greatly quickened public curiosity; ana
many eyes were now turned to the “clear- 9)

ing” every night. Not in vain, either, (

H
wy

 

for the light, or lights—for there were
now several—continued to be seen, od
flashing out at different points, now pal-//
ing and darkening, to burst forth agal
with renewed brightness. In short, aS lm
a whole concourse of ghosts were at the)
orgies. While now and then a flash of
light high over the place, shone out as if
a newly-arriving ghost had, for a mo- 4
ment, opened his “bull’s eye” to take a
view of the premises ere alighting. |
To say that this luminous display
caused quite.a sensation in town would
but faintly describe the actual excite- }
ment. The place was now ree F
daily vists from armed parties; butsearen )
as they might, they could discover noth- |
ing—not even a drop of. tallow from the }
ghostly candles, while the succeeding ~
night was sure to witness a still brighter 9
display. Curiosity and superstition grew ©
rampant; and it was now rumored that
the town authorities were going to inves-
tigate the matter; and that one of the y
selectmen, the sheriff and a strong party
were to proceed against the “lights the }
next night, And if, as suspected, such
lights should turn out to have been diszy
layed by any person or persons, with in ah
tent to frighten and disturb the peace Ohm
the town, such persons were to be phe j
marily dealt with. But if, as some fooly
ishly believe, said display should hase
be supernatural and spiritual, the public *
would be duly notified. A his |
Directly after the promulgation of this
municipal wkase, up at the tavern, a
youth some sixteen, or thereabout, me.
have been seen heeling it down the Thad
lage street and making a bee-line for they
student’s boarding-house, Racing up t het
stairs, he rushed into No. 12, and has’
tily closing the door, exclaimed in 42y
eager whisper: iff a
“T say, Jed. Old Ames, and the sherul, :
and a big crew are going ny there tone
row night. What's to be done now?)
Shall we try it on them?” :
°"T was my worthy chum and school-wjj
mate, Tom Mathews. He's an Hon. este ,
from the Fifth District. And in furt - t
explanation I may say, that we ene i‘
both attending the L—— Academy 4 that’
same time; not because we preferre ante
school to other institutions—by no a iste
—but because our parents were Bapth for j
and that was reason enough, ice beet
sending us to a Baptist school, x S aReHL .
we learned anything or not. We Soaks ay
the place, and were nearly every © ig
upon the point of running away, to ae a
bene join a circus, or some other equ rt
esperate enterprise. ee
It is generally known that an old, and i ;
in many respects venerable person }
always ready to employ idle Tae
While out on a Saturday’s ramble onled
three weeks previous, we had stum omens
upon “Waterford’s Clearing, and mare ae
imp of mischief, or, perhaps, the alt | sams
said old gentleman himeelf, had sug. wax na
the little game which we had been yy
ing on the community for the past th
night. I don't say this to excuse ved}
prank—not a bit. We richly gage
the House of Correction for our pe we
and should probably have got,.there } 6
had been caught, Still I don’t reme™
feeling any remorse at the. time: 4? as
know we meant to “sell” them as 1on8 b
we could. qd be- oe
Thus far the “jag” had succeede rs.

       
 
 

sae

      
  
   
    
   
 
   
  
   
     
   
   
  
   
  
       
 
 
   
   
  

)

fe

ons. | I tee
j etati ma
yond our most sanguine expe aS, oo

And now the question raised by Tom Y 8 iy
whether we should carry on_ the ial .
against the selectman and sheriff. Meld. q
back on our laurels and leave the "og ”
But the sport was far too good to é at:
up so; and we readily decided t0 ™™~ —
their courage. peen 4
Hitherto. our paraphernalia had 0°, |
very simple; a half dozen can see d
plenty of birch-bark, a few sting® sily ©
some newspapers for curtains; all C16 9 4
enough removed and hidden JP seis
bushes. But now, foreseeing that @ ext
ble ghost might be necessary for the nas
night, we prepared an old sheet hideWeay
smeared with red chalk. This a age

the especial benefit of the selectma,, at-

sheriff. “Once let us scare them off;
gued Tom, “and we shall be mastet®—
the situation.” ee
The next day was Saturday; we devoray
it to preparation. Among Tom’s he ety
jp

      

      
 
     
      

itary treasures was .a speaking-trumP
which had descended from an uncle ig:
the navy, From this, by slightly mepee
lating ‘the voice, the. most sepule®.
tones could be elicited, Taken i0 % re

   
 

   

judged it might prove a valuable 60°”

 

judged. with the red winding-sheet sil

 

   
 
 

ary, >

 
 
   
     
      
   
   
     

 

   
    

     
  
 
   

  
CroOoDp

NEWS.

815

 

Toward night we locked our room and
departed, unbeknown, for the “clearing,”
a distance of about two and a half miles.
We got up there just at dusk, and made
our arrangements as fast as possible; for
there was no knowing how soon the
selectman might come.

We fixed the candles before the win-
‘dow-holes as before, with newspaper cur-
tains to draw up or let fall at pleasure.
‘This done, we filled the old stone chim-
mney with dry grass, birch-bark, and
paper, ready to touch off, when occasion
called.

The next thing was to “get up” the
ghost. A portion of the floor of the
cabin, near the doorway, was gone, leav-
ing an open hole into the cellar. So we
allowed the ghost, in his fearful wind-
ing-sheet, to hang in the cellar, sus-
pended by a cord, let down from over the
door, and ready to rise up and fill the
doorway, when such a move should be-
come necessary. The cord passed back-
ward through a crevice in the back side
of the hut, and extended away toa dwarf
hemlock some rods off.
was made to the end that we might still
be able to engineer the ghost at a dis-

tance, in case the party should surround |

the house.

“All ready for the sheriff,” said Tom,
surveying the preparation. “Guess we’d
better light up; it’s getting pretty dark,
and they ’ll need it to guide them. Touch
the candles, and save the chimney till
they get into the opening.”

The effect of our light was immediately ,

audible from the people down at the vil-
lage, and on the other side of the lake.
First halloos, followed by a series of vo-
cal telegraphings, showed that we were
attracting universal attention. I ought
to be ashamed of the confession, but I
don’t believe I ever enjoyed myself half
as well as upon that evening. We knew
we could escape easily enough, even if
the real nature of the display should be
discovered, while the prospect of frighten-
ing the selectman was a rare banquet
for mischief.

We heard wagons rattling up the road
on the other side of the lake, one—two—
three. “Quite a party!” said Tom. They
stopped opposite the clearing, and light-
ing several torches, got into an old
boat and came paddling across.

From the shore up to the clearing was
aclimb of nearly a quarter of a mile.
And while they were coming up through
the woods we practiced the ghost once
more, to be sure that he was all right.
“Now touch the chimney,” whispered
Tom; and it was soon roaring away ata
great rate. We then got through the

window-hole on the back side, so as to be |
well out of the light, and stood awaiting |

the climax. It was a cloudy night, and
had come in dark as Egypt. Peering
around the end of the house, we watched
them come up into the opening. Their
torches made all their movements plainly
visible.

Catching sight of the flaming chimney
and lighted windows, they halted. It
must have had quite a genial glow.
Thanks to the rolls of birch-bark, the
chimney continued to blaze at a furious
rate, sending up dense volumes of black
smoke.

The investigators came up within seven |
inclined |
We caught!

or eight rods, but did not seem
to immediately approach.
fragments of their talk, above the roar-
ing of the flue.

“Almighty hot-looking chimney!” said
one. “What s’pose they’re cooking
there?”

“Witch’s
another.

“Come, boys, let’s move up,”
sheriff.

But the boys didn’t move up much; on
the contrary, the whole party seemed to

ave come to .a standstill. Meanwhile

ve in the chimney began to abate a

tle.

More brimstone here, you imps,”
ared Tom, in hollow tones through the
sumpet.

“That’s old Nick himself; I suppose,”
aid one.

“I tell you, boys, this is all a trick,”

sd Ames. “Let's move up.”

Quick as a wink we let the curtain fall,

king all dark; while Tom cried in a

rible voice:

‘Mortals, depart!

Be be unto you!”

It echoed in the surrounding forest.
Chey were right in thinking that no mor-

lungs could have produced such
bunds unassisted. I never saw men
ore completely non plussed. Scared
hey undoubtedly were; but shame kept
them from retreating.
heir
vpem

broth, perhaps,” replied

said the

depart! depart! or

round and stared.
ared come to the door to look in. |

lustily. : i
“Oh, yOu can’t seare us,” shouted Ames, |
“Your little game’s played out, Just
come out of that, and we’ll say square
with you.”
“Ames never would offer free pardon, |
midges by Ware frightennd,”. whispered

This provision |
Pp

So they stood |
Not one of} “W

Tom. .“Keep steady; we shall ‘sell’
them, yet.”
“D’ye see that revolver?” cried one of
the young men, displaying a pistol. “I’m
coming up to the door; and I’il shoot the
first one who touches me.”
| “Be ready with the ghost,” whispered
‘Tom. The fellow had more nerve than
ithe others. He slowly edged up within
‘afew feet of the door, and raising his
| pistol, discharged it through the aper-

ture. In an instant the ghost arose

through the floor, confronting him with
| the garments of murder.

“Mortal, thy days are numbered,”
trumpeted Tom; while I tossed up a
| heavy stone, which, falling on the rickety
roof, bounced off pretty close to him.
| It was alittle too much. He turned
‘and scampered. The whole party fol-
lowed, Ames bringing up the rear. And
such shrieks as now issued from the old
| trumpet would have appalled braver
{men than they. We heard them crashing
down through the brush, and pretty soon
the sound of oars came up from the water.

“They won't trouble us again to-
night,” said Tom, “Let’s clear up, and
go home.”
| We carefully brushed out the cinders
|from the fire-place, and strewed dry
leaves in their place. Then we took down
the curtains, and cut down the ghost; in
short, removed every trace of our pres-
ence, and went home triumphant.

Now if I were telling this story for the
|moral, we ought to have both fallen into
the lake, and drowned for our wicked-
ness. But I choose to tell what actually
happened. We got home all right, slept
well, and awoke the next morning, which
was Sunday, in time to go to church and
look as demure and innocent as two
lambs.

The story told by the “investigating”
party was quite an improvement on the
actual facts, as seen by Tom and myself,
from our standpoint. They hadn’t sense
enough to conceal, or belittle their de-
feat, but spread the story broadcast,
crushing out every doubt as to their own
valor, by the most terrific details. If
Tom and I had only dared to expose
them it would have put the climax on
the joke. But prudence forbade. We
held. in; and laughed nights under the
| bedclothes. Three nights after we went
up again, to put on a finishing stroke.
“What if we set the old coop afire, and
burn it up;” suggested Tom. “It belongs
to no one, and is of no us any way.” On
the whole, that seemed a very appropri-
ate finale to our little drama, and we ap-
plied the torch to the dry logs. It made
quite a conflagration; and we heard
“Fire! Fire!” down at the village.

Yet we had the satisfaction of know-
ing that the mischief would be deemed
purely spiritual.

Thus terminated the antics of the
ghosts at “Waterford’s Clearing.” We
never went up there again. Old Mr.
| Ames is still living, I believe, and I
can’t help hoping that this will come to
his eye. ‘aad if the municipality still
see fit to proceed against us, they can do
so on our own confession. But I really
think they would do as well to accept the
joke; besides, it ought to be outlawed
| now.
won a

BY MAX ADELER,

pds

Qo

| oy SAW Butterwick driving a dray
| ie past my house thé other day with a
foes | horse lying on the vehicle.
=> stopped when I came out, and I
asked him:

“Butterwick, what’s the matter with |

your horse?”
“The principal thing that ails him now
is that i
“Would you believe now that
thousand dollar horse?”
be Certainly, I wouldn’t.”
“Well, he was, any way—cost me four
thousand dollars.”
“Was he fast?”
“Slowest horse in Newcastle County—
never known to go out of a walk.”
| “What made him cost so much?”
| “VPll tell you. Just after I bought him
(of Jim Bradley for one hundred and
twenty-five dollars he got a fit one night,
and jumped the fence into Cooley’s yard,
kicked a litter of pigs to death, and
broke the cow’s leg, and fainted on top
of the sash on the hot-bed. Pigs, forty
dollars; cow, thirty dollars; sash, fifty-
five dollars. Less ‘see, how much is
that?”
“One hundred and fifty-five dollars.”
ell, he seemed so sick after we got

was a four

/him home that I sent for a horse-doctor.
But they now began to use their voices! H

® said the horse had epizooty, and I
must rub red pepper in his nose. I
rubbed in a quarter of @ pound, and he
sneezed all over a sixty-dollar sult of
clothes, aud butted a seven hundred’ and
fifty dollar diamond-pin out of my shirt
front, and the noise he made scared
Heoloey’s oait Ae that it died; am I had te

| what he was at, of course.

| know old Bannister?
; one day ‘to lend him the horse to drive
|over to a mass-meeting. They had _ fire-
| works in the evening. N
|} would scarce at fireworks, even if he
| isn’t sick. And assoon as they sent up the

| with him.
| the store, and if he didn’t eternally sling

| things!
smashed up about four hundred dollars’ | ..
paid for ’em, and two hun- | [By

He |

he is dead,” said Butterwick. |

|
|
|

pay him two hundred dollars for the colt,
|because he threatened to shoot me if I
didn’t.

.and nine fifty-one, eleven
eleven hundred and sixty-five dollars.”
fe Bace
| “So as the red
ijhim, I got. another horse-doctor, and
;}soon as he came, he said: ‘Butterwick,
that horse is. a glandered ruin. The
only thing that'll save him is rubbing
him well all over with kerosene oil.’
So I got two or three gallons of kero-

about a minute the horse and the stable

were in a blaze.

creek, but the stable was a goner. It
cost me forty-five hundred to build, and
it was only insured for three thousand.
How much is that—two thousand six
hundred and sixty-five dollars? And

thousand dollars.

“You ought to have seen that horse!
| Baked all over the outside so hard that a
hammer would bounce back when you
struck him. He looked more like a sheet-
iron horse. I dunno how it affected him
exactly, but it seemed kinder to ‘derange
his mind, for on the following Sunday
he broke out of the pasture field and
went galloping bang through the door of
the Methodist Church, right up the aisle
to the pulpit, when he got another spasm

bolted out through the window,

his back hammering at two of the Heister

if he was determined to batter them
down before he quit. He didn’t know
The horse
didn’t feel well. I paid three hundred
and ninety-five dollars for those dam-
ages. Lemme see; that brings it up

“To three thousand three hundred and
ninety-five——”

“Ts that all? Now, how was it that he
made up the balance? Oh, yes. You
Well, he asked me

 

Now any horse

first rocket this poor, suffering animal,

|his nervous system all unstrung. what |
|did he

do? He _ reared, and _ pitched,
and finally started for a plate-glass show-

| window—he didn't know it was a window

—and, by

George, he -went through it,
and took

Bannister and the buggy in
It was crockery they kept in

that buggy around among the plates and
Smashed ’em! Well, sir, he

worth, and I
dred dollars’ for the window besides. It’s
an actual fact. Now, where are we? How
| much?”

“That amounts to three thouand nine
hundred and ninety-five dollars.”

“Yes, and five dollars for the dray I’m
taking him home on is four thousand
| dollars, I’ve just been down to the shop
, after him. It was night. He swallowed
thirty-six teacups and a catglass decan-
ter, he was so scared, and they killed
|him. He was acostly horse, but I don’t
bear him any grudge, now he’s dead.”
| And Butterwick drove on toward the
| glue factory to realize on the remains.

ae

GREAT thinkers and lofty mountains
| raise you in your own eyes.

That Your Hair

may retain
its youthful color,
fullness, and beauty,
dress it daily
with

Ayer’s Hair Vigor
it cleanses the
scalp, cures humors,
and stimulates a
new growth
of halr.

Dr. J. G. Ayer & Co:

Lowell, Mass.,

 

 

 

 

What does that foot up now?|
One fifty-five, and sixty one, two fifteen, |
sixty-five— |

pepper didn't cure}

sene. and rubbed the horse, and while I |
was doing it—I don’t know how it was— |
but I -went to strike a match to light a |
cigar, when the can caught fire, and in|

I‘ got out the horse, |
burning as he was, and run him into the}

count in two horse-doctors’ fees and _ the |
kerosene, so that it comes up to three |

 

on him, and kicked the melodeon and the |
four front pews to splinters, and then he |
and |
when they sent for me he was lying on|

family tombstones with his hind legs, as |

|

|
|

‘MOTHERS

|
}

 

 

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One cake of Vaseline Soap, scented...... 25
One two ounce bottle of White Vaseline

Or
a

“é
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Or for stamps any single article at the price,
If you have occasion to use Vaseline in any form
be careful to accept only genuine goods put up by
us in original packages. A great many druggists
are trying to persuade buyers to take VASELINE
put up by them. Never yield to such persuasion,
as the article is an imitation without value,
and will not give you the result you expect.
A bottle of Blue Seal Vaseline is sold by all
druggists at ten ceats.

Chesebrough M’f’g Co., 24 Staie St., New York.

e— STEM-WINDING MUSICAL WATCH,

inely made, silver plated, greatest
novelty ever offered. Come

plete Musical Instrue

mem, size and shape of &

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of Venice, Grandfather's Clock,

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Mention Goop NEws.

 

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j and fat body. By slipping it under your coats
on entering a room full of people, can creates
the biggest sortofasensation. The baby willg
yell for all it is worth, amid the confusion and &
blushes of the ladies. McGinty’s baby is very
strong and very saucy. Justout. Sure to suit.
Fun for everybody. A whole Circus for 12 |

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(Sea eeeeeeeaneeee

e

 

 

 

Be sure and use **Mra. Winslow's
Soothing Syrup” for your children
while Teething. 25 cents abot tle

ORGAN Chart teaches a tune in zo‘minutes. Agts,
wntd. 2cstamp. Music Novelty Co,, Detroit, Mich,

MOUT
iF
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Price 50 Cents.

Answers the purpose of a bound volume,
Holding fifty-two copies comfortably.

 

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PLEASANT SURPRISE, Man’g’r CLIMAX’ 44C AVE., CHICAGO, ILL,

 

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as soon as received. Full directions for in-
serting the paper accompany each binder.

‘We will send thé Goop News binder and a
package of binder pins, postpaid, t any
nddress on receipt of 50 cents.

This binder “has never been offered
at this low figure before by any publisher.
Plainly stated, our reasoh for offering this
binder below cost ia sa & tmbans of adveré
ising.

 
81s

GOOD

NEW SB.

 

Puzzle Corner.

ny

fOriginal contributions solicited. Pleane do not
gend puzzles containing obsolete words. Address,
“Puzale kditor” Goop NEws, New York City, P. 0. Box
2734.) *

——_.—_—

No. 1—WorpD SQUARE.
1 A bovine quadruped.
2 Organs of vision.
8 Kind of barley grown in Scotland.
4 Employed. C. CHASIRA.

No. 2—HALF SQUARE.
1 Large.
2 480 Sheets of paper.
8 'l'o masticate.
4 A preposition.
5 A letter.

No, 8—CHANGED Heaps.
First 1 am a companion.
Change my head, I am a certain time.
Again, fam a door.
Again, I ai beliind time. R. M.

No. 4—TRIPLE Letter ENIGMA.
In detest.
In interest,
In encyst.

No, 5—CHARADE,
Some people think I’m good to eat,
In the garden we often meet.
J walk quite slow, but then, you see,
J take all I have in the world with me.
Jn-sheep I’m found, but not in ewe,
In ocean, not in sea.
J am in rain, but not in dew,
In sight, but not in see.
I'm in delight, but not in joy.
To find me now, your wits employ.
JULIA E, GREEN.

C. H. A.

No. 6— DIAMOND,
1 A vowel.

2 An animal
8 A truit.

4 A measure,
6 A vowel,

No. 7—GEOGRAPHICAL GUESSWHAT,

A town in Idaho went to visit a town in Alabama,
and while going was caught ina mountains in
Africa storm. She finally reached her triend’s
house. When she got there her friend was about
golug to town, and so they went together. They
got some an island west of Scotland to make a
dress, tor they were go'ng to a party, As they
were going to the party they met islands some

_ twenty miles west of the Hebrides, who were
intoxicated from drinking too much an island in
the gulf of the Hebrides west of Scotland. They
arrived all right, however, at their destination.
For refreshments they had tea, ice cream moun-
tains in California, cake, and a river in Atrica
cake. They staid all night at their friend’s house
who gave the party, and in the night the town in
Idaho hada nightmare from eating cake. The
town in Alabama was awakened by some one pull-
Ing her halr, and subsequently found out that her
friend thought she was on a-lakein New York
State, rowing along its crooked shore, in her boat.
The next morning alake in Africa and another
lake in Africa came after the town in Idaho, who
was their sister, The sister told the town in Ala-
bama that she would hope to see her at the family
an island east of Madagascar ab her home on
Christmas Day. W. Mz. L.

No. 8—PRIMAL ACKhOSTIO.
1 Part of a person’s head.
2 A small antnal.
8 A race of nen,
4 A number,
Whole is a city in Penusylvanta,

No, 9—Cross-Worpd ENIGMA.

- In watch, not in ring,
In wire, not in spring.
In Jolin, not in Jack.
In express, not in hack,
In May, not in Juve.,
In tomato, notin prune,
In floss, vot In thread.
In fleet, not in head.
Jn rain, not in shower,
In sunny, not in somber,
In blue, not in gray,
In river, not in bay.
In witty, not in joker.

My whole is the name of a great ote

. .

C. U. LATER.

G. W. D.

Answers to Puzzles iu Na 50 Good News.

No. 1— See

better than to wait for

No. 2—
an To meet danger boldly i
No. 3=s

Eight cats,
Independence,

by
"Coa
wren
Re<04>py
HezCoa
Spo
Q

No. &—
Bentham.

PUZZLE SOLVERS.

C. F.. Davis, Francis Meyer, Wallace Smith, John
Poole, A. Dunham, Florence Hughes, May Morri-
pon, E. E. Baker, Walter 8. Roberts, Perry A,
Billings, Clarence Davis, Joseph Seidl.

 

I

i

 

 

 

 

The Absent-Minded Anarchist—or Do Not Stow Bombs in

a Bass

Drum.

 

 

Short Stops.

“T wIL,” is a miracle worker.
THE wheat crop in Spain is short.
THE best pocket companion—A full purse,

BASE-BALL men do not believe in rough dila-
monds.

SPINSTERHOOD Is often the flirt’s punishment for
contempt of court.

Ir is not the man who grinds his teeth over
trifles who has got the most grit in him.

A GoosE has many quills, but a man may makea
goose of himself with only one quill,

Every one lives to grow up except the children
who think their parents Know more than they do,

THE mind has more in it than most people think,
if you would but furnish the apartments,

THE world’s a stage, and you will always have
crowded houses when you make a fool of your-
self,

Tus water is so low in some of the Western
rivers that the catfish have to stand on their heads
to breathe.

A GENTLEMAN advertised in a Washington paper
that he had lost, on the 8th instant, ‘‘a silver
watch, with a good face and gray frock-coat,”

A LOAFER is a good deal like a cork that has been
pushed into a bottle. It does no good where it is,
aud isn’t worth fishing out.

A VINCENNES, Ind., man and his wife after a
stand up fight tor an hour concluded to call it ‘‘a
draw.” She drew about six handfuls of hair out of
his head,

JONES, seeing a door nearly off its hinges, in
which condition it bad been for some time, ob-
served when it had fallen and killed some one it
would probably be hung.

A Lazy boy makes a Jazy man, just as a crooked
sapling makes a crooked tree. Those who make
our great and useful men are trained in their boy-
hood to be industrious.

A MAN hearing of another who was a hundred
years old, said contemptuously:

“Pshaw! whata fuss about nothing! Why, if
my grandfather was alive he would now be a hun-
dred and fifty years old!”

A SARNIA man bet ten dollars that he could ride
the fly-wheel of a sawmill, and as his widow paid
the bet, she remarked:

“William was a kind husband, but he did not
know much about fly-wheels.”

Cora—“Miss Fussanfeather’s hair used to be
black. I see it has turned toa chestnut. How do
you account for that?”

Clara—‘‘I believe she has been using the funny
papers to do her hair up in.”

“Ou, Tam so glad you like birds! What kind do
you most admire ?” said a young wife to her hus-

band.
“Well, I think a good turkey, with plenty of
seasoning,” sald the husband, ‘is as nice as any.

“WHat are you about ?” inquired a lunatic of a
cook, who was industriously picking the feathers
from a fowl.

“Dressing a chicken,” answered the cook.

“| should cau vhat undressing,” replied the crazy
fellow. The cook looked reflective.

 

Qur Mail Bag.

(Questions on subjects of general interest ao are
dealt with in the ‘‘Mail Bay.” Medical or legal
questions not answered. GoopD NEws goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers cannot appear uD il two or three weeks
after we receive them. Communications intended for
this column should be addressed ““Goop NEws” Mail
Bag, P. O. Box 2734, New York City.]

aac acne

J. B. R. (Oswego, N. Y.)—No.
J, EH. C. (Boston, Mass.)—We agree with you.

T. B. (Pullman, D1.)—The book you inquire foris out
of print.

1’. G. (Philadelphia, Pa.)—Your opinion is shared by a
good many.

Spark (Syracuse, N. Y.)—Please send us your full
name and address.

0. E. G. (Hopkinsville, Ky.)—Your answer will appear
in “Short Talks With the Boys” in a few weeks.

W. G. (Philadelphia, Pa.)—1. It is a trade secret. 2
You are above the average height.

F. H. (Elmwood, Ohio.)—We are glad to learn that
ou think so well of our paper that “you would not
rade it for one hundred others.”

W. H. 7. (Omaha, Neb.)+Please send us
change notice evan the list of articles you
exchange and it will appear in turn.

S. M. (Boston, Mass.)—We will send you a book en-
titled, ‘‘Mitchell’s Art of Boxing” on receipt of price,
ten cents, or you can buy it at your newsdealers.

our ex-
esire to

To Contributors—The following MSS. are respectfully
declined: ‘Only the Youngster ;” ‘“How We Got Away;”
“Adventures in Australia;” “A Fight in the Canyon;”
“A Dark Deed.”

L. E. D. (Cleveland, Ohio.)—We receive such a large
number of exchange notices that it is impossible to in-
sert them until some weeks after receiving. Your
notice will appear in due time.

Pilot (New York.)—We do not advertise business
houses in thiscolumn. Apply to any firm in the city
where they keep games or Out-door sporting goods for
the desired information.

B. T. (Camden, N. J.) ~The mixture usually employed
by negro minstrels ‘is charcoal, burnt cork, and beer.
You can, however, buy a specially prepared mixture at
most costumers.

0. D. C.ostoria, Ohio.)—1. A Poy aie vaen anes of age
is said to be ninety pounds in weight, and five feet two
nee in height. 2, No premium on the coin you
mention.

W. H. C. (Philadelphia, Pa.)—1. Fifty cent pieces
dated 1821 and 1830 are only worth their face value. 2.
We do not make any discounts on binders. They are
sent by mail at our expense. 3. Yes, in afew weeks,

C. C. (Chicago, Tl.)—1, Not for some time ie 2. The
estimated population of the earth is as follows: Asia,
789,000,000; America, 112,000,000; Africa, 197,000,000:
Europe, 347,000,000; Oceania, 38,000,000; total 1,483,000,000.

G. M. G. (La Grange, Tll.)\—1. There is only one way tu
be a ship carpenter, and that is to secure a situation in
a ship yard and learn the trade practically. 2. You
ought tobe able to get a situation in the West quicker
than in the East.

Nellie K., (Kingston, Ont.)—1. Your handwriting is
very ac for your ae. 2, Itis a question of opinion.
Usually a person prefers OPnaee complexion to them-
selves. 3. Pity is a kin to love, and perseverance is the
weehword 0 success. We thank you for your kind
opinions,

D. T. Denver, Col.)—Dogs should be trained during
the day,.and notin the still hours of the night,
single lesson should not exceec fifteen minutes, and at
least one every day. If several are siven—which ‘will
be still better—they should not last more than five
minutes each.

 

| Februar
| 14,421; March 21, 354. 2. V

 

J. J. (New York.)—1. There has been four Command-
ing Generals in the United States army. George Wash-
ington, 1798 to 1799; Ulysses 8. Grant, 1864 to 1869; Wm.
T. Sherman, 1869 to 1883; and Philip H. Sheridan, 188
to 1888. 2. Major-General John M. Schofield, of Ilinois,
is the present commander of the army.

B. G. C. (Birmingham, England.)—1. We are pleased
to learn that although you are living in England, you
are still a subscriber to Goop News. 2. Yes, we have
readers all over the world. 3. Our $8. & S$. Manual Li-
brary No. 5, entitled, “How to Behave in Society,” will
help you in any country or society. Sent postpaid on
receipt of price, ten cents.

F. M.S. (Santa Fe, New Mex.)—Exercise of any de-
scription, if indulged in to excess, will prove injurious,
and probably accounts for your excessive thinness.
Walking, in itself, in moderation is a splendid form
of exercise, and fends ‘to develop all portions of the
body, but if the strength is overtaxed by it then it be-
comes a source of positive injury.

T. H. (Manchester, N. H )--You will find no difficulty
in painting flowers upon plates if you are capable of
painting upon card or canvas ; the same oil-tube colors
are used, and the cheapest and best medium, inst ad
of using muxilp, which is used for canvas, is a mixture
of turps, a very small quantity of gold-size, and a pre-
ponderance of best copal varnish; of course, this is
only for painting when the plate is pot to be afterward
fired. If water-colors are used, procure moist colors,
which can be obtained of any dealer in artists’ mater-
ials and a little gum arabic, which makes them shine,
can be put in the water.

W. B. (Erie, Pa.)—1. Itis very injurious to the health
and eyes to study at night. It would be better to get
up an hour or so earlier in the m cnn after a refresh-
ing sleep. The brain is then clear, and you can study
without any injurious effects. 2 History does not
state. 3. In 1868 Stanley went to Abyssinia, with the
British army. In 1870, he started to find Livingstone.
In 1874, he started to explore the lake rexions of equa-
torial Africa. In 1878, he explored the Congo river.
1882, he returned, and went back ayain the following
year. In 1887, he went to relieve Emin Pasha. He
aon with Emin Pasha to Zanzibar, on December

Ambitious (New York.)—1. The letter ‘‘e” appeared in
Goop News dated January 17, 355 times; January 24,
445; January 31, 372; February 7, 403; February 14, 469;
21, 396; February 28, 966; March 7, 403; March
é C e think a party of boys would
enjoy a week’s vacation in July or August, by amping
out in the Catskill Mountains, or in Lake George re
gion. The latter place, however, would be more expen-
sive. In the first place it costs three times as much
money to reach from New York city. You can go to
Catskill from New York for one dollar, and can tramp
up the mountain, about twelve miles, in less than a
day, or by train for one dollar.

R J. (Qos Angeles. Cal.)—1. The first telegraph line
built in America, extended from Washington to Balti-
more, and was built by Morse, the inventor, by means
of an appropriation made by Congress. The first més
sage was sent May 27, 1844, and read ‘“‘What hath God
wrought?” The first message that passed over the At-
lantic cable, laid in 1866, was the announcement of
peace between Prussia and Austria. 2. As far back as
1831, there was a simple form of a mechanical toy tele-
EbOne, called a “lover's string,” which consisted of two

in cups, the bottoms made of parchment or catgut,
tightly stretched like a drum-head, and connected one
with the other by a string or cord. When the string
was,drawn taut sounds, such as ordinary speech, were
transmitted along the string to the other cups and re-
Ponuces there. It was not until 1876 that Bell first ex-
nibited the deste aah es at the Philadelphia Cen-
tennial exhibition. Weare pleased to learn that you
like our authors.

Y. A. (St. Louis, Mo.)—1. The new United States Navy
consists of twenty-one vessels. The old vessels of the
United States Navy still in commission consists of
seven steel and iron. vessels and one torpedo boat, all
steam vessels; twenty-three wooden steam vessels
three wooden steam receiving ships, twelve iron and
wooden steam tugs, one wooden sailing practice ves-
sel, two wooden sailing school-ships, one wooden sail-
ing store ship, and six wooden sailing receiving-ships,
Besides this there are being built three armored ves-
sels, three steel and_nickel battle ships, one armored
cruiser, one armored cruising monitor, one harbor de-
fence ram, eight unarmored cruisers, one practice
cruiser, one dynamite cruiser, Steel is the material
used in building the new vessels. 2. Italy has twenty
armored ships, forty-one unarmored ships, four tor:
pedo catchers, eighty-two torpedo boats, three armored
gunboats, twenty-six unarmored gunboats, twenty
transports, tugs, etc., eight dispatch vessels, and six-
teen training vessels,

W. W. (Detroit, Mich.)--1. The basis of representation
in Congress has been ascertained by dividing the total
population of all the States by 356. Then by the quotion,
which is 173,901, the population of each State is divided,
If the population be exactly divisable by that num-
ber the answer will show how many members of the
State is entitled to thongh no State can have less than
one. But as there is often a fraction left over after do-
ing this sum in division, the total of all the answers
will be something less than 356, as it happens 339.
These seventeen representatives are then alloted to the
States having the largest fractions, one to each 356 is
the lowest number of representatives that will leave
every State with an undiminished representation. 2.
The Fifty-second Conxgress which begins March 4, 1891,
and ends March 4, 31893, will have 87 Republicans, 237
Democrats, and 8 Farmers Alliance members, total 332.
The first session of the new congress will not begin
until December 7, 1891. 3. Michigan has eleven repre-
sentatives in Congress, eight Democrats and three Ke-
publicans.

Reader (Chicago, Tll.)\—1. It was impossible to answer
your questions in the numbers of Goop NEws requested
as the issues you wrote about were printed when your

reached us. Questions in mail bag, and, notices

1 ange column, are attended to in the order re
ceived. 2. To make charcoal, you first make a founda
tion of earth with a slightly convex surface, drive
long stout stake down in the middle, and around th

vile, the wood cut into lengths of three feet or so, cov
he pile with two inches of dry earth, covered with sc
grass side in. Pull out the stake and fill the cavif,
with shavings and chips, close the hole in the top sooq
as the fire is fairly started. 3. Ask any druxyist._
One ounce of borax, and a small piece of camphor. dis:
solved in a quart of boiling water, is wood for the hai
5. When walking, look straight ahead, throw the shoul-
ders well back. Don't be looking on the ground as if
you expected to find gold, but, keep rere eye on thg
rim of the man’s hat who may be walking in front
you. 6. If nature intended your mustache to droo
you will have to seek artificial means to curl it, tf
same as the young ladies curl their bangs.. The md
ae pears the thicker will be the growth, but coars

e hair.

ae conmunications left over to be unswered nés
week.

—_—_—_—>-0-e-—__—-

Military Matters

Orricers of the U. 8. V C., will hear
their advantage by addressing W, C.
Broadway, New York city. pe

ALL “members of the Hamilton, Washington, Sher
man, and Sheridan Cadets, and also of the vther or-
ganizations that have joined the United States Volun-
ter Cadets, arefordered by their Commanding Officers
to report to A. L, BECKHARDT, 464 West 43d St., New
York city,

New companies of the United States Volunteer
Cadets are being formed in the following cities by the
undersicned who wish hear from young men in
their cities: George W. Dufrane, room’ 207, 45 Broad-
way, New York; A. J. Booth, 5 Clinton St. Ajbany.
N. ¥; George KE. Johnson, Tarrytown, N. VY; Fran
Edwards, 16 Elm 8t., Oneonta, N. ¥,

omething to
ALLMANN, 591