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PREMIUNE

COUPON. |

 

ue
bis iss Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1890, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C.

 

as of Vol. 1, mi Rose Stree b. O. Box 304 New York, July 24, 1890.

Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post-Office, July 24, 1890.

FIVE CENTS PER Cory. N 11
Subscription Price, $2.50 per Year. 0. ®

ven,
see ge.
a Net ate eeeie: *

Maly:

ores a OR,
o come

owed THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF FRED WILDER.

Sane BY: I: ‘Ps MILLER.

  

ed 1 : rm pp ao bs : :
; . CHAPTER XVII. from their liberty, and obliged to remain
Bes NOT TO-DAY in one spot. The leading spirits among
ab!) FO . s he lawless Shae py ts ar ares nl
1's wi Tre the lawless miners (which leaders were
yank?) HE wounded officer was soon re-|mostly old Californians) soon arranged
:

. Vived, and his head bound up. The | matters for giving Red Joe, Jake, and my-
x13 CON, wy, Miners had no vengeance to wreak on self atrial! How the trial was going to
it. #P) mole Ae police, and they were not further end was plain enough, for a raw-hide

Sted, except that they were restrained | windlass rope was brought into “the

 

 

 

 

Con »
ing before we were even arraigned;|rather a hard way to state the case, and
4 Ben oe. been divided into three parts, |was about to say so, but Red Joe
leeg. ’ Was made in one end on each] spoke:

ry eS S soon as a judge and a proper| “What crimes are you going to hang us
¢ ct hsisting of twelve of the roughest | for?”

ang al in the gully) were chosen, Jake| “Shet up, you confounded old lag,” said
Wag eee tcs along to where Red Joe | the impartial judge; “we don’t want no
a as vte and the judge asked us if we} gab from you.” Then addressing himself
Ung f tything to say before we were|to me, he demanded: “Hain’t you got

or our crimes?” I thought this‘ nothin’ to say?”

 

 

  
     
  
     
     
 
     

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’

“I should like to know what offense I
am charged with,” I replied.

“Offense! why, murder, of course !”

“Who charges me with murder?”

No answer. “Whoever does, or with
knowing anything about any murder,
lies,” said I

“Ain’t you this feller’s mate? An’ didn’t
you shoot at big Mat Sawyer, tryin’ to get
him clear?” said the judge, indicating Joe

    

  
  

Wh (il

 

ysl

(i MA

 
      

‘| YW Whiff Uj

 

 

 

RED JOE SNATCHED A TOMAHAWK FROM A MINER, DEALT THE JUDGE A CRUSHING BLOW IN THE FACE WITH IT, AND STOOD AT BAY.

when he spoke of “this feller.” “He's the
man killed Jack Hurley, and you know’d
somethin’ about it, I know.”

“Look here, men,” said I, determined
to make as strong an appeal for my life as
I could; “just listen to me for a few min-
utes, and then if you find any evidence
pointing toward me as being connected
with any one in crime, I'll ask no mercy
at your hands. I did shoot at big Mat,

  
  
  
        
   
  
   
   
 
   
  
    
   
   
      
 
 
 
 
  
  

162

but it was in self-defense—he would have
split my hand otherwise. As to trying to
get Red Joe clear, the statement is false,
and you all know it. He is my mate, bad
as he may be; and all I did was to try to
keep him in the hands of the pole I
don’t see why a man deserves death for
trying to secure fair play for his mate. As
to Joe’s killing Hurley, he did not do
Tse ~

“You lie,” broke in the judge; but a
general cry of “let the fellow speak,”
“oive him fair play,” and such like ex-
clamations, silenced the judge and encour-
aged me to proceed. I had felt almost apa-
thetic at first, in view of the desperation
of our situation; but now there appeared
to be a bare possibility of escape, and
hope sprang up, though there was as yet
but little ground for it to take root in. I
went on:

“Joe did not kill Hurley, nor have any
hand in his death; for we have kept watch
in our tent ever since these murders be-
gan, and I was on watch myself the night
Hurley was murdered—and Joe did not
leave the tent, nor even wake up, once
during the night. I wasn’t asleep that
night, either—you’ll all credit that fast
enough. If Red Joe has committed crimes
in this gully, John Hurley is not among
them. There is a detective who has been
hunting round after these cases—ask him
what he thinks of it.”

The officer immediately made a move-
ment toward the “court,” and was allowed
to approach unmolested ; he took a station
between Red Joe and myself, and com-
menced to address the miners:

“Look here, boys, you’re on the wrong
tack, I tell you. You'd better assist the
law than to break it—and if you hurt
these men you’ll be answerable for it, and
it may go hard with you. The best thing
you can do is to let this man into our cus-
tody again, and help us take him to the
camp—Jack Bragdon, I mean; he’s the
only one of these men that’s wanted.
These other two are good square diggers—
I know, for I hain’t been a detective fif-
teen years without learning the cut of a
rogue as soon as I see him. Now, boys,’
he continued in a persuasive tone, let
these two miners loose and help us take
Bragdon to the camp——”

“That’s about enough o’ that palaver,
Mr. Detective,” broke in the court. “We
don’t want no foolin’ in this matter, an’
we ain’t going to have none, neither.
We’re goin’ to minister justice, we are—
a long rope an’ ashort shift. If that’s
all you've got to say, you’d better dry up.
You hain’t told us nothin’ we didn’t
know afore, that I’ve heard.” .

“Hold on, boys,” replied the. officer;
“Bragdon here I know to be an old lag,
and I had fancied I’d traced Jack Hurley’s
murder to him, near enough to justify an
arrest on suspicion, at least. But his two
mates are square men, I tell you, and this
one says he’s certain Bragdon was in his
tent, asleep, all night, the night Hurley
was killed. And I believe what the man
says. Take care you don’t injure an inno-
cent man, boys; take care of that. And if
you harm either of Bragdon’s mates
you’ve harmed ’em enough already, I
think—you will wrong innocent men—
men.as good and honest as the best of
you.” :

“Oh, yes,” said the court; “we’re to take
what they say for true, no doubt. Perhaps
they ain’t as deep in the mud as their cut-
throat mate is in the mire; and then agin,
perhaps, they are. What do you say (ad-
dressing the jury)? do you think we ought
to let the bobbies (police officers) take
this man, whose hands are red with miner’s
blood, and let his two nice square mates
go, to murder a few more honest men? Or
shall justice be ministered on Candlelight
Gully, and we be able to sleep in peace for

 

the futur’ ?”
The “trial” had not been conducted
without interruption, by ,any means;

many of the miners seemed to think it a
superfluous courtesy to give us a chance to
speak at all, though many favored giving
us a fair chance to speak; and exclama-
tions of impatience and disapprobation at
the delay were neither few nor inaudible.
But when the impartial judge pe the
question to the jury, as to the final dispo-
sition of my companions and myself, the
yells and execration of the crowd be-
tokened a unanimity of feeling that boded
ill for us.

“String vem. up!” “Don’t wait any
longer ! “Hang the bloody villains!”
mingled with curses and oaths, saluted
our ears from all quarters; if there were
men (and I knew that there were some) in
the mob who reprobated such proceedings
they were silenced and overawed by the
blind fury of the majority.

The detective was hustled back to where
the other officers were still guarded, and the
noose end of one of the pieces of raw hide
put around Red Joe’s neck; he was to be
the first executed of the three. He had
been secured to the sapling by haying his
wrists tied together behind his back, his
arms embracing the tree; and when the
noose was fixed around his neck, the lash-
inv was removed from his wrists, and he
was led toward the gorge. <A _ general
shout arose in favor of hanging him from

 

 

 

Goop

the log bridge, which was certainly a very
simple way of doing the business, and in-
volved little labor. All that was needed
was to make one end of the thong fast, Joe’s
neck being noosed in the other end, and
then push him off the log. The judge
(who held the halter in his hand) and
jury had no difficulty in agreeing to the
proposition to hang Joe from the bridge;
and the former, giving the halter a vicious
jerk, hissed out at Joe:

“Do you see that log, you devil you? do
you see it? You’ll swing under that till
your rotten carcass tumbles into the gorge
bit by bit. How do you like it, hey? (with
another jerk at the —Lalter) ; ’tain’t so nice
as ‘twas when you were murderin’ honest
men in their sleep, is it? Look, you
wretch, look; there’s where you’re goin’
to finish your cussid life.”

“Not to-day,” said Red Joe, quite posi-
tively; and at the same instant he Groat
himself clear from the grasp of a man
whose hand was on his shoulder, jerked
his wrists free of the cord which one of
the juryman was trying to replace on
them, snatched a tomahawk from a miner,
and dealt the judge a crushing blow in
the face with the back part of it, and as
the latter fell to the earth like a clod of
clay, he sprang over his prostrate body,
brandishing his weapon in the air. The
mob, which was thinnest at this point,
startled at the unexpected attack, opened
right and left to let the desperado pass;
and in a moment he stood ain —aGk free
—in the middle of the bridge.

The convict presented a terrible spectacle
as he stood at bay on that bare log, high
above the foaming creek; his clothes torn,
and his face beaten, and bruised, and cut,
and his red hair matted and stained a still
deeper color with his own blood, which
was also crusted on his face and clothing;
one eye only was visible, but that one
fairly blazed with hate and impotent rage ;
and as he gnashed his teeth with a fury
which was powerless to glut on the mob
of diggers, the glittering white streak (he
had magnificent teeth), gave him more
the expression of some ferocious wildbeast
than of a human being.
escape; for men were constantly arriving
from down the gully, and a party of them
were now at the opposite paid of the bridge
from where we were, one tall fellow
guarding the end of it with a long-handled
shovel, while he roared across an inquiry
as to what was the matter. But no one
cared to approach Red Joe; he was armed
and desperate; and half dead though he
was, he had just taught them to respect
his strength and activity, if they detested
him.

Jake and I could see him from where we
leaned against our log support; and Jake
remarked in an undertone to me:

“He is a brave fellow, I don’t care what
he’s done; but he can’t get clear—there’s
no use for him to try it;” then in a mo-
ment he added, “no more can we, Tom;
this is bad—God help us, Tom; I wish I
was more fit to die, mate—there’s no hope
for us now; it’s all the worse for us, Joe’s
knocking that fellow’s face in with the
tomahawk. They’ll show us still less
mercy, now.”

While he spoke, a pistol-shot rang out
amid the din of the enraged mob, and I
saw aminer standing at the end of the
log bridge with a revolver—my revolver—
in his hand, and a puff of white smoke
floating off above his head; but he was
not much of a shot, for Joe still stood
erect, apparently untouched. <A dozen
pistols were instantly drawn, but Joe did
not wait for a volley. Hurling the tom-

‘ahawk at the head of the man who had

fired at him (with a plenty of force but a
poor aim, for he missed the fellow’s
skull), he shook his fist at the crowd and
plunged into the seething torrent beneath,
followed by more than one leaden mes-
senger as a parting proof of the regard in
which he was held by the miners of
Candlelight Gully.

From where. Jake and I were reclining
we could not see what followed; but we
learned afterward that he came to the sur-
face almost immediately after striking the
water, was whirled down the gorge ata
tremendous rate by the rushing stream—
was turned round and round, and over and
over, by the rapid and broken current, and
disappeared beneath the waters before the
first bend in the creek’s course hid him
from the sight of those who were watch-
ing him. But they didn’t have the pleas-
ure of hanging Red Joe to the bridge, that
day.

CHAPTER XVIII.
A PLEASANT SURPRISE.

O sooner had Red Joe disappeared
than the miners turned to “’min-
IN ister justice” to Jake andI. The
¢/)\. detective had not ceased to_per-
suade and implore the crowd to desist
from their violence; but. their evil passions
grew from being gratified, and whisky
was fast transforming many of them from
savage and lawless men to perfect fiends
incarnate; and threats of violence to the
officers, unless he held his tongue, were
not wanting, I have no doubt that many

   

He could not !}

|

 

NEW S.

of the mob would have willingly yielded
us up to the care of the police, Joe’s fate
having somewhat sobered them down ; but
the more violent ones carried the sway,
and when it was proposed to bind us hand
and foot and pitch us into the Candlelight

after Joe, the proposal met with but a
feeble opposition from any.
The judge (whose face Red Joe had

crushed in with the tomahawk—and
may as well state here that he recovered,
though he was ever after frightfully dis-
figured), was laid out near where he had
fallen, and his mates were vainly trying
to bring him to; so we were spared being
bullied and taunted by him. But a fellow
just about as brutal took his place, and
asked if we had any confession to make
before we were launched. Jake was fully
aware of the hopelessness of our situation,
and a mortal agony was marked on his
features; but he replied calmly, “No; I
have nothing to confess, save to my God;
may he forgive you, as I try to.”

I remember well how I felt at that ter-
rible moment. I do not think I am a cow-
ard, by any means; but it was terrible to
lie helplessly there, within hearing of the
rushing creek, in the bright clear sun-

| shine, and listen to the plans proposed for

putting me to death. Ithink I could die
in battle, if need be, where I could at
least attempt self-defense, as bravely as
many other men have done; but_ the cold
sweat stood on my forehead as I reflected
on my past life, my home and friends, my
present youthful strength and vigor, and
the awful death with which I was threat-
ened—to be drowned like a very dog, and
execrated and cursed as a cruel and brutal
murderer. I felt how useless it would be

to beg for mercy; I knew that we were |

doomed. But I did beg, and begged earn-
estly, too, for writing materials and a
little time, to write a letter home. It

added keenness to my tortures, to think |

that my friends—my father and Alice, and
Mr. Wilson—would never know what had
become of their relative and friend; and I
pleaded as for my life, for paper and

en,
and one little half hour longer in mnichs to |

write a last message to the loved ones I
was never to see again on earth. I might
as well have asked mercy of a pack of
wolves. Some few favored granting my

prayer; but they were quickly silenced by.

the others; and soon the raw-hide thongs

were wound around us both, confining our |

arms and legs, and we were ready for im-
molation on the diggers’ altar of venge-

ance.. Jake was silent; but the agony
painted on his face was terrible. Long

after that day we were still companions,
but we never alluded to our personal feel-
ings on that occasion. I think
hour near the bridge, even now, with
pain; for the bitterness of death was on
my soul, and years went over my head in
that brief space.

“Over with ’em!” was the cry raised as
we were bound; and three stalwart men,
Mat Sawyer among them, lifted me from
the earth. I shuddered and closed my
eyes, but opened them again as I went
bump on the ground; I had been dropped
in consequence of Mat Sawyer having
tripped over a vine.

“Pick him up agin, boys,” said Mat; but
a great increase in the noise, which had
recently been much subdued, attracted
notice just then, and “Here’s the Tips!”
was passed from mouth to mouth.

In another moment the “Tips” appeared
in force from up the gully.

A large proportion of the gold miners of
Australia and New Zealand are Irishmen.
These men hang together in clans, are
held together by geographical ‘attraction
(that’s the best term I can find to express
it), rather than by ties of blood or simil-
arity of name. Thus the “Corkmen” fight
bitterly with the “Kerrymen,” who in
turn despise and condemn the “Connaught-
men,” who abominate the “Tipperary-
men;” and all these sectional factions
club together to whack and maltreat the
“North-of Ireland-men.” The Tipperary-
men, or “Tips,” as they are universally
called in the British colonies, and as
they call themselves, are the most nu-
merous of these Irish clans, the most

owerful men individually, the most
awless, and by far the most feared.
No other clan act so well in concert;
and in the early days of Australian
gold-digging, the call of “Tip, Tip, Tip,”
when the police were attempting the ar-

rest of some noted scamp of that clan, was |

generally sufficient to hasten the gather-
ings of a fierce body of half savage men,
armed with every conceivable weapon,
with whom the police would have to wage
a war for their lives. Many a “lead” of
rold did they appropriate to themselves,
xy mustering in force at one end of it,
tramping down the line of “payable
claims,” and driving out the rightful own-
ers with stones, clubs, pistols, and other
weapons. I could relate many instances of
desperate combat between mobs of Tips
and parties whose claims they were at-
tempting to "dpm 5 but such _ stories
would be out of place in these lines, at
least in this connection, The Tips were
nearly all successful.

On Candlelight Gully the Tips had a
large piece of the best ground almost en-

of that |

  

et

tirely to themselves. They had secured it
by their usual mode of procedure on néeW
gold-fields; by driving away the pros
pectors and first arrivals, and taking thell
claims; and by preventing others from
afterward taking up claims near them
Complaints had been made to the wardel
of the district, but though he had proof?
their lawlessness, he was powerless
protect their victims. Half a dozen polite
men cannot do much against several hui
dred men, each of whom has all his jife
regarded a police officer as a natural enem
of the human race. So the Tips were ah
lowed to remain in possession of their ill-
gotten ground (which was named TIP
| town) in the gully. They numbered some
| two hundred men; big, able-bodied fel-
| lows, ignorant and brutal to the last @@
|gree; and it was the arrival of this l™®
spectable body of men, headed by “Jimmi
the Ka-ka,”* acknowledged leader in @
rascality, which had occasioned the 1
| creased uproar, and the momentary hes!
tation of the three who were so anxious @
tumble us into Candlelight creek.

We had nothing to hope from such @&
‘accession to the mob, and I hardly knew
| of their arrival; I was calling for mere to
|a higher power than the mob; for in tha
lawful hour of my life I remembered wha
| I had little thought of when all seemet
smooth and prosperous—that there 6 -
|God who rules the earth as well as the
| heavens; and to him I had turned in my
extremity. f
| The Tips had heard that some deed?
| violence was being enacted far down the
| pully from their town, and had hastenet
'to take their part in the affair. Forel

their way through the earlier arrival,

thes
h

 

 

 

 

 

who readily gave way to them,
reached the spot where Jake and
| been dropped, more dead than alive.
| “Where are they?” demanded the leadels
with a rich brogue; “show me the blo
villyans.” Then spying us he steppe
|near us, and continued, “ye’re caughl
| divils, are yez? fw’at de yez think 0’ ye;
| selves now ?” ;
Drowning men will catch at straw
|and my heart gave abound as I recognlZ
| the speaker’s voice. The dreaded Tip wi
one Jemmy Redmond, who had beet
|shepherd for me on the Kyeburn station
and head shepherd in bringing the MOY,
| sheep overland from Lyttleton. He migh
yet save us, for I had always treated hi?
| well, and had given him employment W en
he was sick and unable to obtain a situ@
tion anywhere else; and I called ow
him, with all the earnestness of a BMT
| who felt that his life hung on a thread
| and a very slender one: pe
| “Redmond, Redmond, save us! for a
|love of Heaven and humanity. ©
| not guilty—they’re murdering
men.
| The ruffian started as I called his nam
‘and leaning forward, brushed the ba.
|back from my face; then snatching a
‘knife from its sheath, he quickly sev® 38
the raw-hide thongs with which >
bound, pouring out a torrent of invect!y
) and reproach against the original mob
| the while. ere (t0
| “Oh, ye murtherin’ thieves! ye divils vo
ithe mob)! Boys, boys (to his com ane,
'Tips), it’s himself—Misther Wil a
is te

| jintleman that niver sent a poor bye
without a bit an’ a sup, an’ that own im
self give me the job 0’ work when nobody
lelse would look’ at me, an’ me sick

2 a
with the blackguards, that can’t tele
jintleman from the likes 0’ th’selves.
the Holy Powers, it’s meself ’l] take wr
o’ yer honor now, sir. Who’s this wid J
sir?

“Tt’s me, r
spouter; don’t you know me?” answ

ake.
the Ka-ka, seemingly at a loss for weio
in which to express his disapprobat is
take a “jintleman” for a thief and @ Mis
derer; Jake, me bye, an’ is it yerself t

finest stations in Octago; sure ’twas
|hungry. Dear, dear! me_heart’s prokt
ye hurted, yer honor? The bastes ;
es
Jemmy, it’s me—Jake the
“Wirra, wirra, wirra!” exclaimed Jems
and contempt for the crowd who could rr
here, an’ these thavin divils maltreating

 

 

jnnoce?

 

 

|

ye, an’ the masther, too, Heaven a
him. Oh, ye villyans! ye murtherin’ vagy
bones ye—jest look crossways at o
jest for oncte !” ' ys

But affairs had taken a sudden tiee
;and no one seemed inclined to ob ry
Jemmy the Ka-ka by looking “cross aye

at me. The Tips crowded round, &

ing aside the other miners, who beg“ iih
leave the ground, fearing a collision ere
the detested Tips; and Jake and 3
soon freed from our bonds and our term
and seated on the same log against W ot!
we had been rested when we hac
“trial.” The Tips were quite satisfie@ “ype
we were to be well treated, for Jemm™ at
Ka-ka claimed us as his friends; an© «ay,
ing once decided on that course of acts
they were as active and earnest in ass!*"qs,
us as they would have been in hangi@® ¢pe
had Jemmy the Ka-ka given the™
word so to do.

 

New Zealand bird, with prodigious be@
claws,

    

 

   

<

 

 

 

eh ;
*The ka-ka (pronounced caw-caw) 18 # apd

   
        
—$—$—$$——

secured it
e on new
the pros-
king thei
1ers from
ear them.
1e warden
d proof of
verless |
en police
veral hun
ll his life
ral enem
Ss were a&
their il-
med Tip
ered some
ndied fel-
e last ae
f this 1
y “Jimm
der in @
1 the
ary hesl-
mxious 10

Le

1 such at
rdly knew
r mere
or in that
ered wha
1 seemed
here 18
sl] as the
ied in DY

e deed of
down the
hastened

Forcing
arrivals;
em, thes
nd I h@

ive.
he leat
he bloo

tepped wv
aug ones 7
ik oo’ yer

t straw
as

d Tip W
d been
n stations
he mob 6
He migh
eated bie
nent wher
n a situé
of a Me
1 thread

 

 

 

     

GOOD NEWS.

1Sss

 

— vase

One giant tenderly supported me with
his arm around my waist, and saying “try
a drop o’ this, yer honor; “twill do ye
good,” held a bottle to my lips; and I took
several swallows of what I honestly be-
lieved was a little the worst whisky that
ever went down my throat. It is a source
of satisfaction to me now, to reflect that
Jake received a drink of that same
whisky. But, bad as it was, it revived us
somewhat; and after having our faces
washed, and receiving a drink of water, I
told Redmond and his followers the whole
story of our troubles on that eventful day.
The police, who had been regarded with
no friendly looks by the Tips, were now
fraternized with and assisted to bury the
bodies of the two men who had been killed
—the one Jake had shot, and the one the
convict had stabbed, the latter having bled
to death. The other injured miners were
carried off by their mates, and the wounded
officer was able to walk by leaning on an-
other man’s shoulder.
Charcoal in my account of the day’s pro-
ceedings, Redmond inquired where he
was; and asearch.found him in the bushes,
whither he had crawled on partially re-
covering from the effects of the blow on
his head. He was unable to walk, so he
was picked up; and he, Jake and I were
taken back to our tent. This had been
knocked down and nearly destroyed dur-
ing the day; but the Tips set it up as well
as they could, and then coolly took the
“fly” (a second roof of canvas or drill)
from another tent, and stretched it over
ours, the owners of the fly not daring to
resist. At another time I should have

looked upon the Tips as unmitigated sav- |

ages; at this time I considered them as
first-rate fellows.
(TO BE CONTINUED. )
>

RECKLESS ROLL;

WOLF IN THE FOLD.

otis

By JAMES K, LENNOX.

[RECKLESS ROLL” was commenced in No. 6, Back
numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]
Susgusngi lid
CHAPTER XITI.
MAGGIE’S RETREAT.

    

N, S Maggie Milbank approached the
% cabin at the head of the valley, a
> number of dogs set up a furious
~~“ barking, and for amoment she was
in doubt, whether it was safe or not to
advance; but when she heard the sharp

 

Having mentioned |

“Come right here this minit and stable
Maggie Milbank’s pony and water it and
Tt it, too. Come right in, Maggie.”

 

The maiden dismounted and followed |

| the woman into the cabin.
| “Here now, Maggie, sot right down and |
rest your little self. I know you’re tired |
to death, fugitivin’ from -them horrid In-
gins.”

“What a tongue,” thought Maggie, tak-
ing the proffered seat.

A ery of admiration burst from the
woman’s lips when she gazed upon the
maiden’s fair young face, though anxiety |
and fatigue had somewhat paled it

The maiden glanced around her’ The
room was lighted with tallow dips. She
saw the room was small, but there were |
| doors leading into other apartments, and |
a ladder in one corner leading into the |
loft. There was a fireplace at one end of
the room and on the hearth there were ,
several pots filled with steaming viands |
for supper.
| When she had obtained a fair view of |
her hostess, Maggie could not repress a
shudder. She had hard, bony features |
and cold, gray eyes; a form tall and lean; |
frowzy, yellow hair; long, bony arms and
large, red hands.

 

after you?” the woman said.
| “Yes, I took them to be Indians, though |
iI am satisfied Abel Thorne, a white vil- |
‘lain, is leading them on.”
“He’s a mean, onery whelp, whoever |
Abel Thorne is; that’s what I, Pandora |
Grim, hev to say ‘bout him. Sakes! to
think the poor imp’d be fugitivin’ you all |
over the country, you poor dear,” and she |
|ran her fingers caressingly over Maggie’s
head, and toyed with her long, luxuriant
hair.
A moment later a low whistle was heard
without, and with a crusty “Now what!” |
Pandora Grim went to the door and list- |
ened a moment, then went out. When |
she returned she bore in her brawny arms |
a load of wood which she deposited in one |
corner, then turning to Maggie, said:
“T reckon yer most orful hungry, Mag- !
|
,

gie?”

“T must admit I am, Mrs. Grim, but do
not let my wants trouble you.”

“Law sakes! do you s’pose any body
goes hungry under Pandora Grim’s roof?
No sir’ee, Maggie,” and the woman set |
about getting her something to eat.

It was soon ready, and to show a due
appreciation of the woman’s kindness |
Maggie partook very heartily of the viands
set before her.

After supper was over Pandora con-

 

rattling of chains, she knew the dogs were |

fastened, and so rode on and halted in
front of the cabin.

At this juncture the frowzy head of a
tall, lank female was thrust out at the
door, and a harsh voice croaked out:

“'Who’s there, anyway?”

“A fugitive,” replied Maggie.

“A fugitive? Law sakes who are you a
fugitivin’ from?” asked the woman, step-

ing across the threshold, and shading

er eyes with her open palm, gazed up at
Maggie.

“From one Abel Thorne and the In-
dians.”

“Do tell!” exclaimed the woman; “but
what mout yer name be?”

“Maggie Milbank.”

“Maggie Milbank? What, the gal wat
lives to the Lone Oaks?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And are fleein’ from the Ingins and
one Abel—Abel who did you say?”

”"Abel Thorne; and I shall not regret the
fate that led me here if I can find safety
here.”

“And didn’t ye know who lived here
afore you come?” asked frowzy head.

“No; but the moment I saw the light
and heard the dogs, I concluded it was
the home of a hunter.”

“Bless yer heart, Maggie Milbank, you
were right, and you shall have pertection
here.”

Maggie breathes freer. At first she
thought she might have run into danger
Instead of from it; but when she discoy-
ered, from the woman’s tone, that she
was among friends, a great load was lifted

rom her mind.

“How fortunate Iam,” she said; “but
even at this moment, good woman, I am
afraid the Indians are coming up the val-
ley. At least I heard the clatter of hoofs
behind me.”

“Law sakes, Maggie, the Ingins are
dratted clare of pokin’ of their noses in
the Valley.and-Shadder. S’pect you

earn my men folks comin’ home. They
hain’t returned yit and I’m lookin’ fur
em every minit. Thar’ six of ’em and one
to home—that’s Luth. He’s got the ager,
and all he does is eat and shake, eat and
Shake. But come, light off, Maggie, them
dogs won’t bite ye—only six o’ them; the
men took the rest: off. I’ll call Luth to
Stable yer nag—Luth! Luth! Luth !—thur !”

“Wha—at?” drawled Luther, coming to
the door,

ducted her young guest up the ladder, and
into a room which, she was informed, was
to be her apartment, while she remained
there.

“And now, Maggie Milbank,” said the
woman, while a strange smile played |
about her bloodless lips as she turned to |
leave the room, “whenever you come out
of yere, jist let me know it,” and gliding |
out she closed the door with a bang.

Her words and actions sent a chill to
Maggie’s heart, and when she heard the
grating sound of bolts and bars on the
outside of the door, she knew that she
had been deceived after all—that she was
a prisoner |!

Biting her lip till it almost bled to keep
back an outburst of despair, Maggie gazed
around her. Her room was small, and
had evidently been constructed for a
prison. The walls were of solid logs,
chinked with stone and clay. There was |
but one window in it, and this was a|
small square hole in the roof ten feet from
the floor. A table, a chair, and a cot con- |
stituted the furniture.

Seeing there was no possible chance for |
escape, Maggie threw herself on the cot |
and burst into tears. Nature had at last |
given out and in tears she sought relief.
When she arose she felt much relieved |
and her courage was revived.

“Yes, I am a prisoner,” she mused,
“and no doubt in Rubal Rhinehart’s den.
I have run right into danger, instead of
from it, and now I will have to tax my
wits to get out again. If, no one, but that |
old ogress is to be my jailer, I can defeat
her. I have Abel Thorne’s revolver yet,
and with this I think I can effect my
escape. But what if they should come to
search me, and take this revolver from |
me? I must conceal it, but where?”

She gazed around the room, but there
was no place visible where she could hide
it, except the cot; but. as it was the only
slace, it would be the first one searched. |
Fowles. Maggie determined not to be
defeated, and putting her wits to work
she soon conceived a novel idea for the
concealment of the weapon.

Though she did not expect. to be visited
again that night she lay down without
disrobing.

It was a long time before she fell asleep, |

 

 

and when she did, frightful dreams)
troubled her slumber. /
When she awoke, she found it was'

quite dark in the room. The lamp had |
burnt out, but a beam of light streaming |
through the little open iig. in the roof, told |
her another day had begun.

 

She arose, smoothed out the folds of her |
dress, and arranged her long, flowing hair

 

jand took

dressed in a flashy, military suit of blue,

with more than usual care. Her toilet |
thus completed, she seated herself to
await the movement of her foes.
Soon she heard footsteps ascend the lad-
der and approach the door. Then followed
the removal of bolts and bars. The door |
wheezed open on its great hinges and
Pandora entered the room with a fresh
lamp. But the moment she entered, the
door was closed and barred by some one
without.
“Howdy!” exclaimed Pandora; “pass a|
pleasant night? Sleep well, deary?’
“Very well, thank you,” replied Maggie.
“Indeed !” ejaculated Pandora, with aj;
little sarcasm in her tone; “what a dear, |
brave little soul you are.”
“Many thanks, Mrs. Grim, for the com-
pliment.”
“Of course, you little chit, but——” and
she leaned forward, and with her gray ,
eyes flaming like balls of fire, she con-
tinued, in a sort of hiss: “Does Maggie
Milbank know she’s a prisoner?”
“A prisoner!” exclaimed Maggie, appa- |
rently surprised.
“A prisoner,” repeated Pandora.
“T had never dreamed of such a thing.”
“Wal, you are.”
“You are surely jesting, Mrs. Grim. I

up here a prisoner.” |

“No, I wouldn’t,” returned the ogress |
with a malicious gleam in her gray eyes;
“but then I’m not boss of this ’ere ranch.” |

“Indeed, Mrs. Grim?”

“Yes, I’m the only woman ‘bout the
place, but I have to do jist as the captain
says.”

“The captain, eh?”

“Yes, Maggie, this
Rhinehart’s ranch.”

“The robber-chief, outlaw captain and
leader of horse-thieves!” exclaimed Mag-
gie, sarcastically.

“The same. But, law sakes, Maggie,
how cool you take it. Why, if it were me,
I’d scream and faint.”

“You are of a nervous temperament,
Mrs. Grim.”

“Oh, now you’re makin’ fun, missey,”
sneered the ogress,

is Captain Rubal

“but I’ve come to
sarch you, and if you’ve any knives or pis-
tols or sich about ye, I'll take’ em.”

“Very well,” retorted Maggie.

“Oh, then you’re goin’ to resist my
sarchin’ ye, eh? If you do I'll call one o’
the men.”

“You are
Pandora.”

The search was at once made. Maggie’s
person was carefully overhauled, but find-
ing nothing, the ogress went to the cot,
it apart piece by piece, and
shook everything vigorously. But she
found no weapon, and with mock courtesy
she bade Maggie good-morning, and left

at liberty to search me, |

| the room.

Maggie crossed the room and applied
her ear to a knot-hole in the door just in

| time to hear Pandora say:

“T guess she’s lost the knife and pistol,

| captain, for I sarched everything high and

low, and found nothin’.”

“Because you didn’t look in the right
place,” thought Maggie, but the hag’s
words aroused a serious suspicion in her
mind. Who besides Abel Thorne knew of
her having a knife and pistol? Was it
possible that Abel Thorne was Rubal
Rhinehart?

Pandora soon returned with some food
for the maiden, but left the room at once.

Maggie partook of the viands, for she
knew they would give her strength.

In the course of a few minutes she heard
the sound of many male voices outside of
the building, and a few minutes later she
heard the clatter of hoofs down the valley.
This convinced her that a part—and she
hoped all—of the outlaws were leaving
the place, and she felt somewhat relieved ;
but this relief was only momentary, for
directly afterward she heard a_heavy- |
booted foot ascend the ladder, and so she
prepared to meet the notorious Rubal
Rhinehart, of whom she had heard so often
and so much.

The person ascending reaches the head
of the stairs. He crosses the floor and
pauses at the door. Then there is a slid-
ing of bolts, the great door once more
swings open, and a figure stalks into the
room, and Maggie Milbank stands face to
face with the notorious Rubal Rhinehart
alias Abel Thorne.

CHAPTER XIV.
BEARDING THE LION IN HIS DEN.

‘| der of alarm and disgust when
©) her eyes encountered the familiar
He was

M shrank back with a shud-
JUS

“os > face of Abel Thorne.

embroidered with gold. To Maggie’s joy,

|she saw he carried no weapons, for she

knew that he was coward enough to shoot
her were he likely to be defeated in his
schemes,

As he entered the room he closed the
door, but did not fasten it, for the bars
were on the outside; then turning. to
Maggie, he exclaimed :

“Why, good-morning, my truant little
Maggie! I’m very glad to meet you
again.”

 

| ously.

i yell, and hurled

>

“T presume so,” replied Maggie. “We
met in the glade last night, and you
proved a coward and ran away. I hope
you received your pony, revolver, and
knife.”

Thorne’s face flushed with rage, and his
hands were clenched as though he was
going to strike the maiden. It was quite
evident that her words had cut deep into
his coward heart; but recovering his com-
posure, he quietly said:

“Well, Miss Milbank, I give you credit
for the possession of a spirit which I shall
take especial pleasure in taming.”

“You will?” replied Maggie.

“Yes, I will! I have you now where
there is no danger of losing you. You
need not expect help from your lover,
Reckless Roll, for my friend Homil
Deusen has got his scalp ere this. I pro-
pose to wed you myself, and whenever
you consent to the union you will get out
of this room.”

“And suppose I prefer the solitude of
this room to your society?”

“T am prepared for any emergency, Miss
Milbank. You'll not outwit me this
time; and I also propose to have your
father’s buried treasure; and a portion of
your Cousin Bertha’s share of the treasure

“And you say, Maggie, the Indians are | know you would not permit me to be shut ' is legally mine, for I will have you know
d a ’ ; ? 2 J

that Bertha is my lawfully wedded wife!”

“What!” cried Maggie. “Bertha Des-
mond your wife?”

“Yes, she is my wife lawfully, and the
wife of Oscar Desmond unlawfully.
Through her I learned that her father and
your father had a bit of treasure buried
out this way; so, thinking I’d find it sure
and have it all to myself, I left Tennessee
within an hour after Bertha became my
wife. Some scamp got out the report that
I was dead, so Bertha married Oscar Des-
mond. Well, I didn’t care a cent about
her so I got the gold, and I have been
hunting for it ever since; and now, as it’s
as good as in my possession, I’ve come to
the conclusion that I want another wife,
and you will suit me in every respect. As
to Bertha, she is now in my power at the
Indian village, and I have promised her
to a chief of the Pottawatamies, named
Pymosa, and I am expecting a messenger
from him here every moment, with orders
in regard to her.”

The villain’s words did not frighten
Maggie, but they impressed her very seri-
She knew Bertha was a widow of
seventeen—the widow of Mark Kline—
when she married Oscar Desmond. Kline,
Maggie had never seen, report having
killed him in St. Louis shortly after his
marriage with Bertha; but Abel Thorne
was that identical Mark Kline. Bertha’s
actions, which she now recalled, when he
first came to the Lone Oaks, confirmed all
this. Thorne was Kline, and Kline was
Bertha’s first husband !

After stating the disposition he intended
to make of Bertha, Thorne crossed the
room and seated himself on the only chair
in the apartment, leaving the door un-
guarded.

“Since you are possessed of no weapons,
Miss Maggie,” he said, elevating his feet
upon the table with the air of a. bravo,
“you see I have no fears of your escape;
so, come now, let us have a reconciliation
—- pleasant adjustment of our late quar-
rel.

“T have one request to make of you
first,” said Maggie, carelessly raising her
hand to her head and fumbling with the
long, luxuriant hair at the back of her

' head.

“

Name that one request, my dear,” said
Thorne, secretly, believing that he had at
last conquered.

“Tt is,” said Maggie, “that you remain
upon that chair without attempting to
rise. If you remove your feet from that
table, I shall take it for granted that you
intend to get up, and shoot you dead !”

As the last words fell from her lips, she
drew from her thick hair at the back of
her head a tiny revolver, which she leveled
at the villain’s heart.

It was Thorne’s own pistol, which she
had cunningly concealed among her heavy
ringlets, and which had escaped Pan-
dora’s notice.

Thorne was thunderstruck—completely

aralyzed with amazement and _ terror.
Pike ‘one under a horrible fascination, he
fixed his eyes upon that dark, cylindrical
tube the second time, unable to speak, un-
able to move.

Slowly Maggie began moving backward
toward the door, keeping her eyes upon
the villain’s feet, and the revolver aimed
at his breast. When the door was reached,
she pressed against it with her back and
forced it open. Then she sprang quickly
across the threshold, and in the twinkling
of an eye closed the door and barred it.

And now Abel Thorne was the prisoner.

The villain no sooner realized that the
heavy door was between him and the re-
volver than he Apne to his feet with a

1imself against the door.
But his own ingenuity had constructed
that door as a prison door, and he had
now a good opportunity to test its
strength.

“Law sakes! what can ail the man?”

It was old Pandora who uttered the ex-
clamation, and the next moment Maggie

 

    
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
    
 
    
  
    
 
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
 
   
    
  
    
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
    
   
  
  
     
   
   
  
 
   
    
   
   
    
   
   
  
 
  
 
   
  
   
    
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
     
       
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
     
  
   
  
  
  
   

 

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1S64

heard her ascending the rickety stairs to
learn the cause of Thorne’s lusty yells.

Maggie gazed about her for some place
to hide, Opposite Thorne’s prison, and at
the left of the stairway, she espied an-
other room, similar to the one from which
she had just escaped. The door was
standing wide open, like the other, open-
ing on the outside, and was covered with
bolts and bars.

Maggie’s first impulse was to conceal
herself in that room, but a second thought
suggested a better plan, and, monpine
back of the stairway, she waited Pan-
dora’s ascent.

The next minute the ogress stood on the
floor at the head of the stairs. Her back
was toward our little heroine, and in
amazement she stopped and gazed at the
bolted door. Now was Maggie’s time,
and with the quickness of a cat she sprang
across the floor and shoved Pandora
through the open door of the empty room,
and sent her waltzing to the opposite side
of the apartment.

The next moment the door was closed,
and the amiable Pandora Grim was a
prisoner also, screaming and raving like a
maniac.

Satisfied that there were no others about
the premises, Maggie descended into the
apartment below. Ta

‘Thorne and Pandora succeeded in in-
forming each other of their helpless situa-
tion, and, in hopes of bringing some one
to their release, they kept up a continual
yelling and pounding till the house fairly
trembled.

_ An hour passed by. They had yelled till
their vocies had grown hoarse.

But hark! During an interval of silence
a soft footstep is heard below.

“Help! help!” shouted Thorne, hoarsely.

“Help! ho-elp!” croaked Pandora.

Another interval of silence ensues.

They hear light footsteps ascending the
ladder. At the head of the stairs they
pause.

“Unbar this door, whoever you are!”
roared Thorne, indicating it with a blow.

“Onbar my door fust!” shrieked Pan-
dora. “I’m a helpless female woman—
onbar, [ say!”

The next instant Thorne heard the bolts
and bars of his door slowly pushed back
as if by one in doubt, or unacquainted
with the nature of the fastenings.

At’ pag however, the door was
opened. ‘Thorne rushed out, sweating and
foaming with rage, to find himself con-
fronted by a young Indian who was un-
known to the outlaw.

The lad’s face was streaked and ringed
with paint of piebald colors. On each side
of his scalp-lock, his skull was closely

shaven and dyed a dirty red. A huge pair
of brass ear-rings hung from his ears to
his shoulders, and brass bands encircled
his dusky arms and wrists.

For a moment the two regarded each

other with astonishment.

The Indian spoke first, speaking English

imperfectly.

are you?” returne

“Where Cap’n Rhinehart are?” he asked.
I’m Captain Rhinehart. Who
Thorne.

“Me Pottawatamie runner—me Swift-

wing.”
s Rnd what do you want here?”
“Bring message from chief—from Py-

“Here;

mosa *bout white squaw.”

“Oh, yes! I understand now. I’d for-

- gotten that Pymosa was to send me word
to-day. Well, what does he say about

taking Bertha—the white squaw?”
“Pymosa will meet Cap’n Rhinehart at
Pawnee village when two more moons

rise. 2
“All right, tell——

wil

At this juncture the crash of Pandora’s
bony fist against the door, mingled with a
screech, interrupted the conversa-

tion, and Thorne opened the door and let

what
acl

' Z
A

the panting ogress out.
“Where i she? where is she?” the hag
screamed, flying down stairs. “I want to
scratch her eyes out—tear her to ribbons—
oh, Lord, I do!” :
Thorne turned again to the Indian run-
ner, ot whose face he detected a smile,
and asked:
“While coming here, Swiftwing, did

a3 eee a white squaw about the prem-

or

| be 4 to find the white

_ “No; see nothin’,” replied the Indian.
“One that [had here got away a few
minutes ago, and I must pursue her. Tell
Pymosa to meet me at the Pawnee village
Con fe Sie ts Bowne

“Me go first to Pawnee village,” sai
Swiftwing, have message for whe win’
“Well, you can go with me,” said the
outlaw. “I shall goright there and get
uaw that esca: "
e two descended the stairs. In the
room below they were met by Pandora,
who had come in from the stable.
» “She’s gone, captain, and rid off on her
white pone: Hurry, and ketch her!”
Followed’ Swiftwing, Thorne went

to the stable, and having bridled and sad.

- mounted and gallopin
_~ Thorne

a couple of ponies, they were soon
down the

rode before, his face black with

or : and disappointment, while Swift-
ebas rode on a few rods behind, his face

wearing that same strange smile,

GooD

f

After riding a couple of hours they
reached the Pawnee village and Thorne
proceeded directly to the lodge of the head
chief, White Wolf.

Swiftwing was scarcely noticed by the
haughty Pawnees, for he belonged to a
tribe that was weak, either in the council
lodge or upon the war-path.

The young Pottawatamie runner, how-
ever, was assigned a lodge by Abel Thorne,
the one used by the outlaw when he was
at the 8 hogs ne In this lodge the youth
kept pretty close until the shades of éven-
ing had begun to gather over the village,
then he threw a blanket over his shoul-
ders and sallied out into the village.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—$-¢-—

Drowning.

RESCUING THE DROWNING AND RESUSITA-
TING THOSE WHO ARE APPARENTLY

HAT does a person do who can-
not swim upon falling into the
water. As a rule, he loses his

resence of mind, throws up his
hands and makes motions which are ill to
the purpose, so that it becomes extremely
difficult, dangerous, and often impossible
to save such people from drowning. They
grasp convulsively the swimmer who
comes to their rescue, preventing him from
holding them above water and bringing
them safely to shore. The consciousness

7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fi@. 1.

of being able to swim gives to those who
have the misfortune to fall into the water
composure and presence of mind, while
people who cannot swim are overcome with
their powerlessness and inability to help
themselves, and are consequently drowned
unless promptly rescued. The feeling of
their inability is ‘the cause of their despair
and confusion.

It is essential, therefore, that all those

who cannot swim should at least know
that they need not drown if they will only
do what is proper to keep themselves
above water, and in their own interest let
them impress upon their minds the fol-
lowing three illustrations:
_ The first,(Fig. 1) shows the false position
in which a man must drown, and I am
sorry to say it is one which the ignorant
always adopt. They raise their arms and
ery for help.

The second
favorable one,

paetion (Fig. 2) is a more
, or in this the head is kept
slightly above water; being bent ee

ey

 

FIG. 2.

ward it permits h th
ands the hs baaathing through the

 

 

_ The principal rule, therefore, which peo- '
ple who cannot swim should follow, is

NEW S.

not to raise their arms out of the water.
The two illustrations are explained upon
the following basis of a natural law: The
human body weighs a little less than the
same quantity of water it displaces.
When the arms are raised a similar
amount of water is displaced, consequently
the head sinks deeper. The aeaana

tion is a tedious one to retain for a long

space of time, because the head must be ,

bent backward considerably in order to
keep the mouth out of water, and for this
reason our third illustration (Fig.3) is
preferable. In this position the arms are
stretched backward beyond the head; the
body then assumes a horizontal attitude

 

 

 

 

and face and mouth are kept out of water.

Why the position of the arms changes |
the entire attitude of the body in water |

is made plain by these three sketches.
The large, white spot indicates the air in
our lungs and intestines, by which we are
enabled to swim with the arms stretched
behind, as in figure 4; the weight of
the upper and lower part of our body is
almost even, and the entire body revolves
around the great air-bladder, which strives
to reach the surface. By laying the arms
against the body in a downward direc-
tion, as in figure 2, the weight of the
lower half of the body is increased, the
feet sink and the body assumes a more
upright position. Our sketches also show
that the larger the air-bladder is, the
easier it will be for us to maintain our-
selves above water; consequently a person
in danger of drowning does wail to pump
his lungs as full of air as possible by deep
and full respiration and short expiration.

It is, therefore, necessary to observe
three chief rules when in danger of
drowning, 7.e.:

1. Do not raise your arms above the
water.

2. Lay on your back, holding your mouth
out of the water.

3. Deep respiration and short expiration.

It is known that women and even chil-
dren who could not swim have sustained

themselves in dangers of this kind by fol- |

lowing these simple and effective lines of
conduct.

How can a drowning person be saved?

If the rescuer cannot swim he must
throw to the drowning person anything
which he can seize—an oar, a rope, or his
coat, holding the same by one sleeve
while he throws the other end toward
the drowning person, in order to establish
a connection with him. Many have been
saved from death in this manner, and in
this connection the fact must not be for-
gotten that the drowning man _ usually
comes to the surface once more before he
strangles and then “catches at the last
straw,” as the adage says. ;

And now let us discuss how the person
who can swim must act in order to be
successful in rescuing the drowning. This
question is of particular importance, be-
cause, by an erroneous proceeding, the
swimmer endangers his own life.

Professor Von Esmarch cites in his
“Guide” the rules and directions laid
down by “ Wasserschout Tetens,” the super-
intendent of the Marine Department of
the city of Hamburg. They are so clear
and minute that they deserve to be spread
far and near through the press, and we
quote them for the benefit of our readers.
They are as follows:

1. When approaching a drowning person
call out to him with a loud voice that he
is saved.

2. Before jumping into the water, dis-
robe as quickly and completely as_pos-
sible, tear off your clothes, if necessary,
but if time is too short for that loosen at

least your underdrawers around the ankles,
for if they are tied they will fill with
water and prove a hindrance to the swim-
mer,

3. Do not seize the drowning person
while he is still battling hard with the
waters, but wait a few seconds till he be-
comes quiet. It is foolhardiness to seize a
person while thus fighting with the ele-
ments, and he who does so exposes himself
to great danger.

4, As soon as the drowning man has

posi- ,

grown quiet, approach him, seize him by
‘the hair, throw him quickly upon his
back, and with an energetic thrust push
him toward the surface of the water.
Then throw yourself upon your back, hold
the body with both hands by the hair and
lay his head upon your stomach in swim-
ming ashore with him. This is an easy
and safe method, and an expert swimmer
can hold two bodies above water in this
jmanner. Its greatest advantage is that
,one is able to hold one’s own head, as
well as that of the drowning person, out
of the water. Besides, one can drift a
long time in this way, which is of utmost
importance when a boat or other succor is
nearing.

5. The so-called “death-grip” is, as ex-
perience teaches, a rare occurrence, for as
soon as a drowning person grows weak
and loses consciousness his grip grows
| weaker until at last the hand lets go of
its hold. So do not fear the “death-grip”
when rescuing a person by swimming.

6. If a body has gone to the bottom you
can recognize the spot where it lies, in
quiet water of course, by the air-bubbles
| which now and then rise to the surface.
But in this direction one must make al-
lowance for a current which may prevent
the air-bubbles from rising in a perpen-
dicular line. By promptly diving fora
body in the spot where these aie bubbies
appear it can often be brought ashore be-
fore it is too late for resuscitation. :

7. In diving for a body seize the same
by the hair, but with one hand only,

FIG. 5.

using the other and the feet for swim-
ming to the surface.

8. “tt is a great mistake to undertake to
swim ashore in the ocean with the tide
| going out, and it is much better to float,
whether alone or with the body of a
drowning person, until assistance comes.

9. These directions hold good under all
circumstances, in quiet water as well as
in the stormiest sea.

It often aa that drowning persons
are taken out of the water in a dead faint,
or as peopis commonly say, “They are
brought dead out of the water.”

Death in the water can only happen in
two ways.

The drowning person suffocates.. He
breathes water into his lungs instead of
air and also swallows a considerable quan-
tity of water. Death through suffocation
does not occur at once, but only after a
comparatively long struggle with the ele-
ments. The unfortunate man has then the
appearance of one dying of strangulation.
His face is purple in color and swollen,
the lips are purple, and the eyes bloodshot,
his mouth is filled with a foamy sub-
stance, and the. stomach, the windpipe
and the lungs contain much water. Occa-
sionally a drowned person presents an
altogether different appearance. The face
is pale, limp, and there is little or no
foam in the mouth. These symptoms in-
dicate that death did not follow by reason
of strangulation, but was brought about
by a faintin spell or astroke of apoplexy.
In this case breathing stopped at once, the
epiglottis closed conyulsively, so that
little or no water entered the lungs. This
appearance is favorable, for in this case
the chances for resuscitation are greater
than in the former.

The question is often asked, when does
death occur in the water? How long must
a person remain under water before
drowning? Ten mniutes, a quarter of an
hour, etc? The answer invariably is: The
time cannot be determined. It has been

roven that life need not be extinct in a

ody which has been under water for sey-
eral hours, and that sometimes in such
cases resuscitation was achieved by con-
tinued exertions of several hours’ dura-
tion on the part of the rescuer.

From this follows the rule:

“To regard every drowned person as
only apparently dead.”

How shall we proceed under these cir-
cumstances?

This the physician knows best how to
do, and it is the rescuer’s first duty to
send promptly for him and to order at the
same time blankets and dry clothes.

In the meantime let him begin at once
with the attempts at resuscitation, and
his first and most urgent task is to re-
store respiration. For this purpose the
following directions must be GBaseved 2

1. Do not stand the drowned person
upon his head; do not hold his y up
by the limbs, but place him at once upon
a layer of covers or pieces of clothes, or
over the knees, on his stomach with one

 

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arm under his head and his head and
chest resting a little lower than the other
part of his body; then press upon his back
in order to relieve the lungs and stomach
from the water they have absorbed. In
order to let the air enter the windpipe
open his mouth and wipe out the slime,
etc., from it and the nose, pull the
tongue forward and hold it there by means
of a rubber band, passing over the point
of the tongue and the chin, or by pushing
the jaw forward.

3. Remove the wet garments, particu-
larly anything which compresses the body,
as necktie, suspenders, ete.

4. In order to create voluntary respira-
tion, irritate the nose by inserting a little
snuff or sal volatile, or by tickling the
throat with a feather; also by rubbing
face and chest alternately with hot and
cold water and by beating the chest hard
with a wet towel.

Do not stop long at this, however, for
if breathing does not set in promptly pro-
ceed at once to the application of artificial
respiration. As in natural respiration,
the action of the muscle stretches and
compresses the chest alternately in order
that the air may penetrate to the lungs or
be expelled. The same outward effect
must be produced through artificial
breathing. This can be done in several
ways. Professor Von Esmarch recom-
mends in first line Sylvester’s method,
Which can be applied by one person and
has often done most excellent service.
Our two sketches (figures 4 and 5) illus-
trate this in a very plain and effective
manner.

The body is placed flat upon the back
With head and shoulders slightly raised
by means of a folded garment. Place
yourself behind the body, seize both his
arms above the elbow, raise them gently
and evenly to above the head and hold
them there for two seconds. This motion
inflates the chest and the air is sucked
into the lungs. (Figure 4.)

Then bring the arms back the same way
and press them gently but firmly for two
seconds against the side of the chest.
This expels the air from the lungs. (Fig-
ure 5.)

Where two people are at hand let them
place themselves at either side of the vic-
tim, each catching hold of one arm as in-
dicated above and make the motions
evenly and at the same time, as shown in
figure 6. These motions must be repeated
about fifteen times per minute, carefully
and perseveringly, until natural respira-
tion is noticeable, and usually the first
breath which the person draws naturally
is visible by the sudden change in the
color of the face—i. e.: The pale face
grows red, and vice versa. This artificial
respiration must be kept up until the
physician comes, and if he does not come
promptly it must be continued for hours,
and only when breathing and pulsation
have stopped for many hours should these
attempts cease. As soon as natural res-
Piration has set in the artificial method
must be dispensed with. Then wrap the

erson in dry blankets and rub the limbs
rom the feet upward, lay him in a warm
bed, put warming-bottles, etc., around
him, a warm lid upon his stomach, under
the arm-pits, between the thighs and to
the soles, in order to restore the natural
warmth of the body and to stimulate the
action of the heart.

Do not give the person anything to
drink, until life has so far returned that

 

FIG. 6.

he can swallow. Then give him in very
small quantities warm water, coffee, tea,
brandy, or wine. At that time a physi-
Cian will no doubt be on hand, and the
noble savior of a human life may depart
with the exalting consciousness of having
robbed death of its prey and fulfilling the
highest claims Wwhise one fellow-creature

as upon another. He will also be enrolled
as a member of our Goop NEws Humane
et and receive our Gold Life-Saving

edal.

— ees > oe ——

First-class Stories from the pens of
Ottver Oprtc,
Horatio Anger, Jr.,
Harry CAsTLEMON,
and Epwarp 8. Eris

Will appear constantly in the columns of
Goop News.

 

DOWN THE SLOPE.

ae

A STORY OF THE MINES.

eal as

By JAMES OTIS,

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

|‘ DowN THE SLOPE” was commenced in No. 8. Back
numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

CHAPTER VII.
THE STRUGGLE.
ECOGNIZING at once that the voice

to the man for whom they were
looking the rioters remained silent
with surprise, and during this short inter-
val Sam brought the butt of his gun to
the floor with unnecessary force in order
that there might be no question about his
being armed.

“Who is inside?” one of the party finally
asked, and Sam replied:

“Tt doesn’t make any difference so long
as you don’t attempt to come through.”

“We shall do it just the same, an’ it'll
be so much the worse for you if a finger is
raised to stop us.”

“There’s no need of very much talk.
We're here to keep you out. At the first
movement both will shoot, and we’ve got
ammunition to hold the place ’till the
others come.”

This bold assertion caused the rioters no

 

they had just heard did not belong |

!ons on our side, is too big a contract for
you to tackle.”

“Put out your lamps, boys, an’ we'll
show these fools what can be done.”

In an instant the tunnel was plunged in
|profound darkness, and the lights worn
Ib y the boys served to reveal their where-

abouts clearly.

Both realized how great would be the
disadvantages under such circumstances,
and in the least possible time the tiny

| flames were extinguished.

Even while this was being done the riot-
ers attempted to effect an entrance; but,
without exposing himself to a blow, Sam

| discharged his weapon, paying little re-
| gard to accuracy of aim.

The noise of the report echoed and re-
echoed through the passages, and the cham-
ber was filled with smoke, during which
| time Fred fancied he-saw a form leaning
| half through the aperture, and he also fired.
“That makes two cartridges, an’ now
| we’ve only gotten left,” Sam said in a
‘half whisper. “At this rate we can’t keep
‘the battle goin’ a great while, an’ when
‘the thing is ended we shall have to take
whatever they choose to give.”

“Donovan may send some one before the
ammunition is exhausted.”

“He won’t think of such a thing for a
| good many hours yet. Could you find your
|“way back to where the men are at work

on the pumps?”

“And leave you alone?”

“One of us must go, or else these fellows
will soon be where a great amount of mis-
chief can be done.”

‘ ad am willing to do whatever you think

est.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FRED SET OFF AT FULL SPEED, AND ALMOST IMMEDIATELY A SHOUT WENT UP FROM THE
RIOTERS : ‘*THE SNEAKS ARE SENDING FOR HELP! SsTOP THAT BOY!”

little uneasiness, as could be told from the
fact that the entire party retreated down
the drift, where they apparently began a
consultation as to the best course to be
pursued under the circumstances.

“Come on this side,” Sam whispered.
“If we stand opposite each other and are
obliged to shoot we shall get the worst of
it.”

“Do you really mean to kill them?” Fred
asked as he changed his position.

“T intend to hit whoever comes through
if I can, an’ they’ll have to rwn the risk o
the killin’ part.”

“If we could only send word to Dono-
van.”

“Well, we can’t, an’ it looks as if we
might have to stay here a long while, un-
less they get the best of us. Nobody will
think of coming to look for us for a good
many hours, an’ that’s why I said we
were in a fix.”

Neither of the boys cared to prolong the
conversation. Their situation was desper-
ate, and to state it in words seemed like
making it worse, but, as Fred afterward
said, “they kept up a terrible thinking,”
until the rioters began operations by ap-
proaching the aperture once more, keeping
close to the wall on either side to prevent
giving the defenders an opportunity of
using their weapons.

“See here,” the spokesman began, “we've
come to give you a chance of actin’ square.
You know who we are, an’ that what we
do will help all hands who work here. Let
us through peaceably, an’ we’ll allers be
your friends, but if we’re obliged to fight
for it there’ll be nothin’ left of you.”

“We'll take our chances rather than
have such as you call us friends; but it
strikes me that a fight, with all the weap-

“Then go, and tell whoever you meet, of
the pickle [am in. I'll stay because I'l!
most likely make a better fist at fighting
than you.’

“Do you want the cartridges?”

“Yes, and the gun.”

Fred placed the weapon against the wall
near his companion, and turned to go.”

“Don’t light your lamp until you are so
far away that the flame can’t be seen, for
it won’t do to let them know we have di-
vided forces.”

A silent handshake and Sam was alone.

“It’s goin’ to be a tough job, an’ most
likely I’11 get the worst of it,” he said to
himself, as he leaned toward the aperture
in a listening attitude.

Five minutes passed, and then came a
shower of missiles, causing a choking dust
to arise; but doing nofurther injury. Im-
mediately afterward the boy fancied an-
other attempt was being made to crawl
through, and he discharged both weapons
in rapid succession.

“Now we've got him!” a voice shouted,
and before Sam could reload the guns two
or three men were in the chamber. ‘

He crouched in the further corner hoping
to slip the cartridges in the barrel, while
they should be hunting for him; but one
of the party ignited a match, and an in-
stant later he was held as if by bands of
iron.

“Light your lamps, an’ be lively about
it, for there’s another one here!’

Sam made one violent effort to release
himself; but in vain. When the chamber
was illuminated he saw a crowd of men
peering in every direction for Fred.

“It’s Bill Thomas’ busty,” one of the
party said in oer “I didn’t know he

was a bosses’ pe

 

“Neither will he be very long. Where's
the other fellow?” and Sam’s captor tried
to choke the answer from him.

“Tf he don’t speak quick strangle him.
We can’t spend much time on a kid,”
some one suggested, and the question was
repeated.

Sam knew that the men were in no
humor to be trifled with, and there was
little doubt but the strangling would fol-
low unless he obeyed. It was possible to
delay the explanations for a few seconds,
and thus give Fred so much more time to
reach the lower level.

With this view he coughed and strug-
gled after the vice-like pressure upon his
throat was removed, to make it appear as
if it was only with the greatest difficulty
he could breathe, and fully a moment was
thus gained when his- captor kicked him
two or three times as he said:

“None of that shamming. Speak quick,
or I’ll give you something to cough for.”

“The fellow who was with me went
back to the slope.”

“How long ago?”

“When we first knew you were here.”

“That’s a lie, for we heard you talking.”

“What makes you ask any questions if
you know better than I?”

“When did he leave?”

“T told you before. Of course he waited
long enough to find out how many there
were of you.”

At least five minutes had passed from
the time Sam was first questioned, and
this must have given Fred _ a safe start.

“Go after him, Zack, and take Jake
with you,” the spokesman said, sharply.
“Travel the best you know how, for every-
thing depends on overtakin’ him.”

The two men started at full speed, and
the leader asked Sam:

“Where is Joe Brace?”

“Brace?” Sam repeated, as if in bewil-
derment, “why he didn’t come with us.”

“Wasn’t he in this place when you got
here?”

“Of course not. I’m most certain I saw
him in the village just after the works

| were shut down.”

There was a ring of truth in the boy’s
tones which could not be mistaken, and
the rioters appeared satisfied.

“Abe, go an’ tell Billings that Brace got
out of here in time to warn Wright, an’
let him know what we’ve struck. Don’t
waste any time now.”

When the messenger had departed the
leader beckoned to another member of the
party, and said as he pointed to Sam:

“Take care of him. The whole thing
would soon be up if he should get away.”

“What’ll Ido with the cub?” the man
asked in a surly tone.

“Anything so that you keep him safe.
A thump on the head will help straighten
matters, if he tries to kick up a row.”

“Where are you going?”

“We'll foller up Zack an’ Jake, an’ if
they catch the boy there’ll be nothin’ to
poe our finishin’ the business we came
or.”

After a brief consultation, which was
carried on in such low tones that Sam
could not distinguish a word, the men
started down the drift, leaving the pris-
oner and his captor alone.

Sam knew the man was named Bart
Skinner, and that he was an intimate
friend of Billings’. He had the reputa-
tion of being quarrelsome and intemper-
ate, and was exactly the sort of person
one would expect to see among sucha
party as were now committing lawless
deeds.

“T don’t count on wastin’ much time
with you,” Bart said when the footsteps
of his companions had died away in the
distance. “I'll leave you in a safe place
pervidin’ you behave; but let me hear one
yip, an’ I’ll try the weight of my fist.
Come along.”

No attempt had been made to fetter
Sam. The rioters understood that it was
impossible for him to escape, and probably
looked upon it as a clear waste of labor.

When Bart spoke he seized the boy by
each arm, forcing him through the aper-
ture, and then retaining his hold as he
followed. Once in the tunnel the two
pressed on at a a gait toward the
shaft, Sam_ being obliged to walk a few
paces in advance, until they arrived ata
point where a tunnel had been run at
right angles with the drift; but which
was shut off by stout wooden doors.

“We'll stop here a bit,” Bart said, as he
tried to unfasten the rusty bolts which
had not been used for many years.

Believing that he might as well accept
his capture with a good grace instead of
sulking over it, Sam did what he could to
assist in opening the doors.

When the task was finally accomplished
Bart motioned for the boy to enter first,
and after assuring himself by the flame
of his lamp that the air was pure, he
obeyed.

“Go on a bit, an’ see if it is a drift, or
only a stable.”

“They’ve exhausted the vein after fol-
lowing it about thirty feet,” Sam replied,
as he walked the full length, and when on

 

the point of turning to retrace his steps
the daties were closed with a clang, while
from the outside could be heard the mock-

    
 
  
   
    
   
      
 

 

 

 

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ing voice of Bart as he shoved the bolts
into their sockets:

“Tt’s deep enough for what I want to
use it. You’ll do no mischief while here,
an’ I reckon the bosses will hunt a long
time before findin’ you.”

Then Sam heard the sound of rapidly re-
treating footsteps, and thought to himself
as he vainly shook the timbers:

“Tf those fellows overtook Fred I’m
likely to stay here till the mine is flooded.”

CHAPTER VIII.
THE PURSUIT.

HEN Fred left Sam to defend the
breach in the wall he fully real-
\ ized the necessity of giving the
av alarm quickly, and did not stop
to light his lamp until after scrambling
over the barrier of coal.

Once this had been done he ran at his
best pace, guided by the wooden tracks
on which the cars were hauled, until he
was obliged to halt from sheer lack of
breath. A dull sound in the rear caused
him to push on again very quickly, for he
believed Sam had found it necessary to
discharge his weapons.

On making the second halt a few mo-
ments later, he detected a certain scurry-
ing noise which at first he fancied might
have been caused by the rats; but imme-
diately came the voice of a man, and he
knew the rioters were pursuing him.

“I'll get a pretty heavy dose if they
catch me,” he muttered, hurrying once
more, and when the journey was half fin-
ished it became apparent that the. pur-
suers were gaining upon him.

The lives of others beside his own might
be sacrificed, if he did not win the race,
and he bent all his energies to the under-
taking. Once he stumbled, almost fell;
but luckily recovered his balance, and
darted on, forced to run upon the ties
because the space either side was so nar-
row.

Nearer and nearer came the men until
he could hear their heavy breathing, and
one of them shouted:

“Halt, or we’ll shoot!”

Knowing that they might have gotten

ossession of his gun he had reason to

elieve the threat would be carried into
execution; but he said to himself:

“It’s better to be killed by a bullet than
take what they choose to give,” and the
command only served to quicken his pace.

Minute after minute passed; no shot

    

 

was fired, his breath came in quick gasps, :

and it seemed impossible to continue the
flight many seconds longer. The pursuers
were now within a few yards, and nothing
could be seen ahead. Whether the lower
level was close at hand or a mile away he
could not decide; but in his despair he
shouted for help.

“Pick up some chunks of slate an’ see if
you can’t hithim. At this rate we shall
soon have to tyrn back.”

One of the men stopped long enough to
gather an armful of fragments, and as he
continued the pursuit threw them with
murderous intent at the fugitive.

Two passed very near the almost ex-
hausted boy’s head; but none inflicted any
injury, and he shouted again and again
for those who were working at the pumps.

At the very moment when Sam lost all
hope a tiny ray of light appeared from out
the gloom, and he cried for help once
more; then fell headlong to the ground.

When he next realized anything he was
surrounded by miners, who had evidently
been running, and one asked, impatiently:

“Can you tell us what happened, lad,

an’ how them sneaks managed to get in

here?”

“Have they gone back?”

“Indeed they have; we chased them the
matter of half a mile, an’ then concluded
it was time we got the story from you, for it
might not have been safe to pass the first
drift.”

In a few words Fred told his story, add-
ing as it was ended:

“There isa big crowd of them, and all
hands are bent on flooding the mine.”

“We don't care to have them drown us
out like rats, so I reckon there'll have to
be some fightin’ done before that little
game is played.”

“But what about Sam?”

“They've got hold of him for sure; but
~ ul a to ne. nie chances with the

rowd, for we can’t he i ”

“‘They’ll kL him? ar:

“ on’t reckon there’s muc e
that, lad; but if there was we ane
a thing. I’d go farther than most any-
body, for he was my butty, an’ a right
good boy; but he’s in the hole to stay ’till
the Semen get the upper hand of ‘them
as would kill their best friends to injure
the bosses.”

Fred knew it was Bill Thomas who
spoke in such a tone of utter helplessness
and there could be no doubt as to the cor-
rectness of his statements.

“T’d go back atone if I had the gun.”

“Then it’s lucky you left it behind. Best

0 up the slope an’ tell Donovan what has

appened here, so’s he can send men to
the old shaft, Say to him that we’ll be

through in a couple of hours more, an’

GOooD NEWS.

want him.to start the pumps, for we’re
workin’ in four feet of water.”

After stationing one of their number as
guard the miner resumed their labors, and
Fred started toward the slope, bent on. in-
ducing Donovan to take some steps for the
relief of Sam.

Wearied by the previous exertions he
made but slow progress, and when he
reached the breaker at least half an hour
had elapsed.

Those who had been left to guard the
mine were on duty in positions where their
bodies would be sheltered in case of an at-
tack with fire-arms, and in a group out-
side were forty or fifty of the rioters.

“Bill Thomas wants to know, if you
will start the pumps? They are working
in four feet of water,” Fred said, as he ap-
proached Donovan.

“Tt can’t be done now if the whole level
is flooded. These fellows have made two
rushes, and are gettin’ ready for another.”

“Don’t you suppose this is to prevent you
from discovering that portion of the riot-
ers are getting in through theold shaft?”
and Fred told of what had occurred in the
drift.

“That’s jest the size of it; but what can
be done? We can’t spare a man from
here.”

“There are surely more at the store who
would help us.” ra

“Very likely; but they won’t come while
this crowd is here.”

“Tf Mr. Wright knew what was going
on he could send a party to the shaft.”

“Yes, if he knew it.”

“Why not send him word?”

“How?”

This was a question Fred did not an-
swer, and Donovan continued :

“There’s no chance by which any one
could get from here to the store, while
that gang of murderers keep watch over
all our movements. ’’

“Tt is nearly night. In an hour it will
be too dark for them to see what is going

on.

“Who will take the risk of trying to
slip past them?”

“T will.”

“You'll be in a worse box than Sam is,
if they catch you.”

“Something must be done, and since you
can’t spare anybody to go to the poor fel-
low’s assistance I’m ready to take my
chances while trying to help him.”

Donovan did not reply until after look-
ing carefully around as if calculating the
probabilities of success, and then he said:

“T’ve amind to let you attempt it. If
the soldiers don’t arrive before morning,
and Billings’ crowd are coming through
the old shaft as you say, we must have
help soon, or give up the fight. There
is a chance you will get past all right, and
I’m certain we can expect no one to come
unless we say it is impossible to hold out
longer.”

“T’m ready to go.”

“Very well; wait until it is dark, an’
then you may make a try for it.”

It would have pleased Fred better, if he
could have been actively employed at
once, for the knowledge that Sam was in
the power of the rioters troubled him
more than personal danger would have
done; but nothing remained save to wait
as Donovan said, and he tried to be patient.

From the men on guard he learned that
Mr. Wright’s house had been attacked;
but the mob contented themselves with
destroying the windows and setting fire to
the stable. The building itself yet re-
mained intact, and there was reason to
believe no more outrages, except such as
might be committed near the mine, would
be committed.

“Them as are standin’ in with Billings
don’t really know what they want, except
as he tells them,” Fred’s informant said,
“an’ that’s what makes things of this
kind dangerous. If the men understood
exactly the cause of such rows, there’d be
little trouble.”

“But since they don*t, what will be the
result of this one?” Fred asked.

“That’s more’n I can tell, The mob
may quiet down, an’ then again they may
grow worse, so there’s no sayin’ what'll
happen. Any how, you don’t want to take
many chances on your way to the store.”

“T’ve got to help Sam.”

“Right youare; but at the same time you
ain’t called on to take too big risks. Don’t
start unless things look favorable for get-
tin’ through all right, ’cause Cale Billings
ain’t anice sort of a man to meet when
he’s on the top of the heap.”

“Sam is in his power,”

“How do you know?”

“It is only reasonable to suppose so.”

“Then all the more cause for you to keep
away from him. I'd like to have some
one see the boss; but I haven’t got the
nerve to send a boy instead of goin’ my-
self.”

Since this was a direct reflection upon
Donovan, Fred refrained from making any
reply, and the conversation ceased.

wice before dark the rioters made a
demonstration in front of the slope, as if
bent on effecting an entrance, and each
time Fred fancie
the direction of the old shaft.

It was not for him to make any sugges-

 

  

more men were sent in.

 

tions, however, and with a heavy heart he
watched the’ maneuvers, believing that
each moment saw Sam in more peril.

A messenger was sent to the miners in
the lower level telling them that the
pumps could not_ be started, and urging
all hands to hold the drift against the
rioters; but that was everything which
could be done under the circumstances,
and the most vulnerable point was virtu-
ally left unguarded.

When night came the lawless party
built several fires between the slope and
the shaft, very much as if they wished to
show that they were on guard, and Don-
ovan motioned to Fred as he walked a few
paces down the drift.

“T didn’t want the others to hear what
I said, for it’s just as well they shouldn’t
know what a scrape we’re in. If you can
get to the store, tell Mr. Wright that he
mustn’t wait for the soldiers; there’s no
question but Bill Thomas’ = have got
their hands full keepin’ back them as
come in by the shaft, and it can’t be long
before we'll be snowed under. It’s about
twenty to one now, an’ in case of a rush
the matter would be settled mighty quick.”

“Tf I can leave the mouth of the slope
without being seen there’ll be no trouble.”

“Half a dozen of us will go out a short
bit, an’ you shall follow on behind. There
ought to be a chance of slippin’ off, an’ ‘if
there isn’t we’ll have to give it up, for
I’m not willin’ you should take too big
risks.”

Fred threw off his coat and vest that he
might be in good condition for running,
and then as the men marched out of the
slope he crouched in the rear.

The rioters made no demonstration; but
stood ready to repel an attack, watching
closely all the maneuvers, and Donovan
whispered to the boy:

“Tt won’t do to try it, lad. They are
scattered around in such a way that you
couldn’t get a dozen yards before bein’
seen.”

“T’m going to try it.”

“Don’t, lad, don’t,” several said quickly,
and, fearing he might be forcibly detained,
Fred started.

He went straight back from the slope,
bending low in the vain hope of escaping
observation, and having gained a distance
of an hundred feet set off at full speed,
forced to run in a half circle to reach the
road.

To those who were watching it seemed
as if hardly a second elapsed before a
great shout went up from the rioters,

“The sneaks are sendin’ for help!”

“Stop that boy!”

“Don’t let him get away!”

These and a dozen other orders were
given at the same time, and those rioters
who were nearest Fred began the pursuit.

“He’ll never reach the store,” Donovan
said, sadly as he led the way back to the
slope when Fred was swallowed up by the
darkness. “Even if these fellows don’t
overtake him there are plenty between
here and there who’ll hear the alarm.”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

—_—_$—~—_ 9 ——___——_-

Only an Irish Boy;

Andy Burke's Partmes ald Misfortanes,

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.,

Author of “Ragged Dick,” ‘‘Fame and Fortune,’
“Sink or Swim,” “Tattered Tom,” “Brave
and Bold,” ete.

{“Onty AN IntsH Boy” was commenced in No, 1

Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.]

CHAPTER XXXII.
MRS. PRESTON’S REVENGE.

A» NDY BURKE was passing the
«, house of Mrs. Preston within a

+s month after Colonel Preston’s
«> death, when Godfrey, who had not
yone back to boarding-school, showed
1imself at the front door.

“Come here!” said Godfrey, in an im-
perious tone.

Andy turned his head and paused.

“ Who are you talking to?” he asked.

“To you, to be sure.’

“What's wanted?”

“My mother wants to see you.”

“All right; I'll come in.”

“You can go round to the back door,”
said Godfrey, who seemed to find pleasure
in making himself disagreeable.

“T know Iean, but I don’t mean to,”
said Andy, walking up to the front
entrance, where Godfrey_was standing.

“The back door is good enough for you,”
said the other, offensively.

“I shouldn’t mind going to it if you
hadn’t asked me,” said Andy. “Just move
away, will you?”

Godfrey did not stir.

“Very well,” said Andy, turning; “tell
your mother you would not let me in,”

“Come in, if you want to,” said God-
frey, at length, moving aside.

“I don’t care much about it.
come to oblige your mother,”

  

I only

 

“Maybe you won’t like what she has to

say,”
smile.

“T’l) soon know,” said Andy.

He entered the house, and Godfrey called
up stairs:

“Mother, the Burke boy is here.’

“T will be down directly,” was the an-
swer. “He can sit down.”

Andy sat down on a chair in the hall,
not receiving an invitation to enter the
sitting-room, and waited for Mrs. Preston
to appear. He wondered a little what she
wanted with him, but thought it likely
that she had some errand or service in
which she wished to employ him. He did
not know the extent of her dislike for him
and his mother.

After a while

said Godfrey, with a disagreeable

,

Mrs. Preston came down
stairs. She was dressed in black, but
showed no other mark of sorrow for the
loss of her husband. Indeed, she was
looking in better health than usual.

“You can come into the sitting-room,”
she said, coldly.

Andy followed her and so did Godfrey,
who felt a malicious pleasure in hearing
what he knew beforehand his mother in-
tended to say.

“T believe your name is Andrew?” she
commenced.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your mother occupies a house belong-
ing to my late husband.”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Andy, - who
now began to guess at the object of the
interview.

“T find by examining my husband’s
papers that she has paid no rent for the
last six months.”

“That’s true,” said Andy. “She offered
to pay it, but Colonel Preston told her he
didn’t want norent from her. He said
she could have it for nothing.”

“That’s a likely story,” said Godfrey,
with a sneer.

“Tt’s a true story,” said Andy, in a firm
voice, steadily eying his young antagon-
ist.

“This may be true, or it may not be
true,” said Mrs. Preston, coldly. “If true,
[ suppose my husband gaye your mother a
paper of some kind, agreeing to let her
have the house rent free.”

“She hasn’t got any paper,” said Andy.

“T thought not,” geld Godfrey, sneering-
ly. “You forgot to write her one.”

“Be quiet, Godfrey,” said his mother.
“T prefer to manage this matter myself.
Then your mother has no paper to show in
proof of what you assert?”

“No, ma’am. The colonel didn’t think
it was necessary. He just told my mother,
when she first came with the rent, that
she needn’t trouble herself to come again
on that errand. He had said that she had
nursed him when he was sick with the
small-pox, and he’d never forget it, and
that he'd bought the house expressly for
her.

“T am aware that your mother nursed
my husband in his sickness,” said Mrs.
Preston, coldly. “I also know that my
husband paid her very handsomely for her
services.”

“That’s true, ma’am,” said Andy. “He
was a fine, generous man, the colonel
was, and I’ll always say it.”

“There really seems no reason why, in
addition to this compensation, your mother
should receive a present of her rent. How
much rent did she pay before my husband
bought the house?”

“Fifteen dollars a quarter.”

“Then she has not paid rent for six
months. I find she owes my husband’s
estate thirty dollars.”

“Colonel Preston told her she wasn’t to
pay it.”

“How do I know that?”
“My mother says it, and she wouldn’t
tell a lie,” said Andy, indignantly.

“T have nothing to say as to that,” said
Mrs. Preston. “Il am now managing the
estate, and the question rests with me. I
decide that your mother has been suffi-
ciently paid for her services, and I shall
claim rent for the last six months.”

Andy was silent a moment, Then he
spoke.

“Tt may be so, Mrs. Preston.
to the doctor, and I’ll do as he says.

“T don’t know what the doctor has to
do with the matter,” said Mrs. Preston,
haughtily.

“He wants to get an excuse for not pay-
ing,” said Godfrey, with a sneer.

“Mind your business,” said Andy, ex-
cusably provoked.

“Do you hear that, mother?” said God-
frey. “Are you going to let that beggar
insult me before your very face?”

“You have spoken very improperly to
my son,” said Mrs. Preston.

“He spoke very improperly to me first,”
said Andy, sturdily.

“You do not appear to understand the
respect due to me,” said Mrs. Preston,
with emphasis.

“If I’ve treated you disrespectfully I’m
sorry,” said Andy; “but Godfrey mustn’t
insult me, and call me names.”

“We have had enough of this,” said
Mrs. Preston. “I have only to repeat that
your mother is indebted to me for six
months’ rent—thirty dollars—which I de-
sire she will pay as soon as possible, One

I’ll speak

”

 

   

thin
othe

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pa ds weet idee oe | ek ee, ee ee

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GOooD NEWS.

 

 

167

 

 

thing more, I must request her to find an- ' cilla. “We have lived together from girl-
other home, as I have other plans for the ! hood, and we cannot be separated.”

Ouse she occupies.”

You’re not goin’ to turn her out of her} leave her, so [I am afraid we must make
house, sure?” said Andy, in some dismay. | up our minds to lose you both.’

“It is not her house,” said Mrs. Preston ;
though it occurred to her that it might
ave been, if she had not suppressed the

Will. But of course Andy knew nothing | fever are always felt for a long time. She}

of this, nor did he suspect anything, since
heither he nor his mother had the faintest
idea of being remembered in Colonel Pres-
ton’s will, kind though he had _ been to
hem both in his life.
now it isn’t,” said Andy; “but she’s
80G used to it. I don’t know any other
Place we can get.”
at is your look out,” said Mrs. Pres-
ton, “1 have no doubt you can get in
Somewhere. As I said, the house is
Mine, and I have other views for it.”
an’t we stay till the end of the quar-
ter, ma’am’’?
No; I wish to finish my business here
Book as possible, and shall then 0 to
ston.”
How long can we stay, then?”
till the first of the month.”
«hat’s only three days.”
Th It is long enough to find another place.
p at is all I have to say to you,” and Mrs.
teston turned to go.
dy rose and followed her without a
Word. He saw that it would be of no use
appeal for more time. Her tone was so
an and determined that there was evi-
€ntly no moving her.
Bh ~ will we do?” thought Andy, as
Toad” ed slowly and silently along the
see felt the need of consulting somebody
€r and more experienced than himself.
Ust in the nick of time he met Dr. Town-
: ey, in whose friendship he felt confidence.
he Can you stop a miunte, Dr. Townley?”
Said. “I want to speak to you about
Something.”
= can spare two minutes, if you like,
ndy,” said the doctor, smiling.
Andy explained the case.
On tis quite true,” said the doctor. “Col-
el Preston intended your mother to pay
® Yent—he told meso himself; but as
Sur mother has no written proof, I sup-
Pose you will have to pay it. Shall I lend
You th

“lhe money?”

Son” need, doctor. We've got money

in eh for that. __ But we must move out
«witee days. Where shall we go?”

ets tell you. I own the small house

for led by Grant Melton. He sets out

ly € West to-morrow with his family.

let it to your mother for the same rent

© 8 been paying.’

“Tp ank you,” said Andy, gratefully.

livin eetter than the house we’ve been
ng in. It’s a good change.”

lord erhaps you won’t like me for a land-
Oct, 80 well as Mrs. Preston,” said the
«yor, Smiling.

PU risk it,” said Andy.

Wo days afterward the transfer was
and to Mrs. Preston was disappointed,
Malicg ( +y still more so, to find their
harm, ad done the Widow Burke no

part, advice of the doctor Andy deferred
availie the thirty dollars claimed as rent,

‘ing himself of the twelve months al-
estat or the payment of debts due the

av of one deceased.

it was anybody else, I’d pay at
» Said Andy; “but Mrs. Preston has
h i tus so meanly that I don’t mean to

a

she delay made Mrs. Preston angry, but
Was advised that it was quite legal.

CHAPTER’ XXXII.
ANDY LOSES HIS PLACE.

 
 
  

NDY and his mother moved into
\, Dr. Townley’s cottage. It was
eye rather an improvement upon the
hith house in which they had lived

iff €rto, but then there was this great
to ence. For the one they had no rent
doi? but for the other they pans fifty
have rent. Dr. Townley would gladly
drat narged nothing, but he was a com-
- a ely poor man, and could not afford
dictate generous as his heart would have
skill _ He had a fair income, ° being

oat and in good practice, but he had
consid i college, and his expenses were a
Stil) erable drain upon his father’stpurse.
Week, With the money saved, and Andy's
live y earnings, the Burkes were able to
tent very comfortably and still pay the
for he a real misfortune was in store
Inns Sophia Grant was taken sick with
Wee over, The sickness lasted for some
tated.” and left her considerably debili-
ww hat do you think of Sophia, Dr.
“She ey?” asked Priscilla, anxiously.
Coy ho aains weak, and she was a bad

B ~—I am feeling alarmed about her.”

vy ll tell you what I think, Miss Pris-
to aa Said the doctor, “though I am sorry
Rether ' That fact is, the air here is alto-
Will h 00 bracing for your sister. She
ee to go to some inland town where

Thee winds are not felt.”
en I must go, too,” said Miss Pris-

| by and by be strong enough to return here?”

 

|

 

“T supposed you would be unwilling to

“Do you think, doctor, that Sophia will
“T am afraid not. The effects of lung

will improve, no doubt, but a return to
this harsh air would, I fear, bring back
her old trouble.”

“T asked, because I wanted to know
whether it would be best to keep this
place. After what you have told me, I
shall try. to sell it.”

“T am truly sorry, Miss Priscilla.”

“Soam I, Dr. Townley, I don’t expect
any place will seem so much like home as
this.”

“Have you any particular place that you
think of going to?”

“Yes; I have a niece married in a small
town near Syracuse, New York State.
They don’t have east winds there. I'll
get Priscilla (she’s named after me) to
hunt up a cottage that we can live in, and
move right out there, I suppose we’d bet-
ter go soon.”

“Better go at once.
humered.”

“Then I’ll write Priscilla to get mea
boarding-house, and we'll start next
week.”

There was .one person whom this re-
moval was likely to effect seriously, and
this was our young hero.

“T hope Andy’ll be able to get a place,”
said Priscilla, after she had communi-
cated the doctor’s orders to her sister.

“Just so, Priscilla. He’s a good boy.”

“T will give him a good recommenda-
tion.”

“Just so. Does he know it?”

“No. I will call him in and tell him,
so that he can be looking out for another
position.”

“Just so.”

Andy answered the call of Miss Pris-
cilla. He had been sawing wood, and
there was sawdust in his sleeves.

“How long have you been with us
Andy?” asked his mistress.

“Over a year, maa’m.”

“TI wish I could keep you for a year to
come.”

“Can’t you?” asked Andy, startled.

“No, Andy.”

“What's the matter, Miss Priscilla?
Have I done anything wrong?”

“No, Andy. We are both of us quite
satisfied with you.”

“You hav’n’t lost any money, ma’am,
have you? I’ll work for less, if you can’t
afford to pay as much as you've been
paying.”

“Thank you, Andy, but it isn’t that.
My sister’s lungs are weak, and Dr.
Townley has ordered her to move to a less
exposed place. We are going to move
away from the town.”

“T’m sorry,” said Andy, and he was, for |
other reasons than because he was about |
to lose a good place.

“We shall miss you, too, Andy.”

“Just so,” chimed in Miss Sophia, with
a couch.

“You see how weak. my sister’s lungs
are. It’s on her account we are going.”

“Sha’n’t you come baek again, ma’am?”

“No, Andy. The doctor says it will
never be safe for us todoso. I hope you
will get a good place.”

“T hope so, ma’am, but you needn’t
think of that.”

“We are prepared to give you a good
recommendation. We feel perfectly satis-
fied with you.”

“Just so,” said Sophia.

“Thank you, ma’am, and you, too, Miss
Sophia. I’ve tried todo my duty faith-
fully by you.”

“And you have, Andy.”

“Tlow soon do you go, ma’am?”

“Next week, if we can get away. The
doctor says we can’t get away too soon.
So you had better be looking around to
see if you can get a place somewhere.”

“T will, ma’am, but I'll stay with you
till the last day. You’ll need me to pack
up for you.”

“Yes, we shall. To-morrow I'll write
you the recommendation.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Andy didn’t sleep as much as usual that
night. His wages were the main support
of his mother and sister, and he could
think of no other place in the village
where he was likely to be employed, He
had a little money saved up but be didn’t
like the idea of spending it. Besides, it
would not last long.

“T wish Dr. Townley wanted a boy,”
thought Andy. “I’d rather work for the
doctor than for anybody else in the vil-
lage. He’s a nice man, and he cares just
as much for poor folks as he does for rich
folks. I am sure he likes me better than
he does Godfrey Preston.”

But Dr. Townley already had a. boy
whom he did not like to turn off. -Nor
could he have offered to pay Andy as high
wages as he had received from the Misses
Grant. There really seemed to be no
vacant place in the village for our youn
hero to fill, and, of course, this trouble

Weak lungs must be

jlong as I.

 

him,

Next week the Misses Grant got away

from the village. They gave Andy as a
present an old-fashioned silver watch,
about the size and shape of a turnip.
Andy was glad to get it, old-fashioned as
it was, and he thanked them warmly.
The day afterward he was walking

slowly along the village street, when he |

came upon Godfrey Preston, strutting
along with an air of importance. He and
his mother had removed to Boston, but
they were visiting the townon a little
business.

“Halloa, there!” said Godfrey, halting.

“Halloa!” said Andy.

“You’ve lost your place, haven’t you?”
asked Godfrey, with a sneer.

“Yes.”

“How are you going to live?”

“By eating, I expect,” answered Andy,
shortly.

“Tf you can get anything to eat, you
mean?”

“We got enough so far.”

“Perhaps you won’t have long.
may have to go to the poor-house.’

“When Ido I shall expect to find you
there.”

“What do you mean,” demanded God-
frey, angrily.

“T mean I sha’n’t go there till you do.”

“You’re proud for a beggar.”

“T’m more of a gentleman than you

”

You

are.

“T’d thrash you, only I won't demean
myself by doing it.”

“That’s lucky, or you
thrashed yourself.”

“You’re only an Irish boy.”

“I’m proud of that same. You won’t
find me going back on my country.”

Godfrey walked away. Somehow he
could never get the better of Andy.

“T hope I’ll see him begging in rags

might get

| some day,” he thought to himself.

But boys like Andy are not often re-
duced to such a point.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE WILL AT LAST.

  
 

“HE next three months passed very

Yb) country town like that in which he
<7 lived there was little opportunity
for a boy, however industrious, to earn
money. The farmers generally had sons
of their own, or were already provided
with assistants, and there was no manu-
facturing establishment in the village to
furnish employment to those who didn’t
like sarhen Kame. Andy had some idea of
learning the carpenter trade, there being
a carpenter who was willing to take an
apprentice, but unfortunately he was un-
willing to pay any wages for the first year
—only boarding the agp agg our

hero felt for his mother’s sake that it |

would not do to make such an engage-
ment.

When the three months were over the
stock of money which Andy and his
mother had saved up was about gone. In
fact, he had not enough left to pay the
next quarter’s rent to Dr. Townley.

Things were in this unsatisfactory state |

when something happened that had a ma-

terial effect upon Andy’s fortunes, and, as |

my readers will be glad to know, for their
improvement.

To explain what it was, I must go back
to a period shortly before Colonel Pres-
ton’s death. One day he met the doctor
in the street and stopped to speak to him.

“Dr. Townley,” he said, “I have a favor
to ask of you.’

“T shall be very glad to serve you, Col-
onel Preston,” said the doctor.

Thereupon Colonel Preston, drew from
his inside pocket a sealed envelope of
large size.

“T want’ you to take charge of this for
me,” he said.

“Certainly,” said the doctor insome sur-
prise.

“Please read what I have. written upon
the envelope.”

The doctor, his attention called to the
envelope, read inscribed in large, distinct
characters :

“Not to be opened till six months after
my death.”

“T see you want an explanation,” said
the colonel. “Here it is—The paper con-
tained in this envelope is an important
one. I won’t tell you what it is. When
you come to open it it willexplain itself.”

“But, colonel, you are likely to live as
In that case I can’t follow
your directions.”

“Of course we can’t tell the duration of
our lives. Still I think you will outlive
me. If not, I shall ‘reclaim the paper.
Meanwhile I shall be glad to have you
take charge of it for me.”

“Of course I will. It is a slight favor
to ask.”

“Tt may prove important. By the way,
there is no need of telling any one, unless,
nevngeaon your wife. don’t want to
orce you to keep anything secret from
her. Mrs. Townley, I know, may be de-

pended upon.”
“I think she may. Well, Colonel Pres-

| tite set your mind at rest, I will take

care of the paper.”

ty unsatisfactorily for Andy. Inasmall |

When Colonel Preston died, not long
| afterward, the doctor naturally thought of
| the paper, and, as no will was left, it oe-
|ecurred to him that this might be a will;
| but in that case he couldn’t understand
| why he should have been enjoined to keep
it six months before opening it. On the
whole, he concluded that it was not a
will.

Seated at the supper-table about this
time, Mrs. Townley said, suddenly:

“Henry, how longis it since Colonel
Preston died?”

“Let me see,” said the doctor, thought-
fully. “It is—yes, it is six months to-
morrow.”

“Then it is time for you to open that
envelope he gave into your charge.”

“So it is. My dear, your feminine curi-
osity inspired that thought,” said the doc-
tor, smiling.

“Perhaps you areright. LTownIama
little inquisitive in the matter.”

“T am glad you mentioned it. I have so
much on my mind that I should have let
the day pass, and I should be sorry not to

| my friend.”

“Have you any suspicion as to the na-
ture of the document?”

“T thought it might be a will, but if so,
iI can’t understand why a delay of six
| months should have been interposed.”

“Colonel Preston may have his reasons.
Possibly he did not fully trust his wife’s
attention to his requests.”

“Tt may be so. I am afraid his married
life was not altogether harmonious. Mrs.
Preston always struck me as a very selfish
woman,”

“No doubt of that.”

“She evidently regarded herself as supe-
rior to the rest of us.”

“In that respect Godfrey is like her. He
is a self-conceited, disagreeable young
jackanapes. I wouldn’t give much for his
|chances of honorable distinction in life.
|I’ll tell you of a boy who will, in my
|opinion, beat him in the race of life.”

“Who is that?”

“Andy Burke.”

“Andy is a good boy, but I am afraid
the family is doing poorly now.”

“So I fear. The fact is there doesn’t

| appear to be much opening for a lad like
Andy in the village.”
| “JT hear that Mr. Graves, the store-
| keeper, who is getting old, wants to get a
| boy or young man with a small capital to
take an interest in his. business, and
| eventually succeed him.”
| “That would be a good chance for Andy,
iif he had the small capital, but he prob-
| ably hasn’t ten dollars in the world.’
“That’s a pity.”
“Tf I were a capitalist, I wouldn’t mifid
| starting him myself; but, as you, my
| dear, are my most precious property, and
are not readily convertible into cash, I
| don’t quite see my way to do it.”
| “J didn’t think of you, Henry. Country
| doctors are not likely to get rich. But I
thought Colonel Preston, who seemed to
|take an interest in the boy, might do
| something for him.”

“Tf he had lived he might have done so
—probably he would. But Mrs. Preston
and Godfrey hate the Burkes like poison,
for no good reason that I know of, and
there is no chance of help from that
quarter.”

“T should think not.”

The next day Dr. Townley, immediately
after breakfast, drew the envelope already
| referred to from among his private papers,
and, breaking the seal, opened it.

To his surprise and excitement, he dis-
covered that the inclosure was the last
will and testament of his deceased friend.
Accompanying it was the following note:

 

 

 

“MY DEAR FRIEND, DocroR TOWNLEY :—This 1s
the duplicate of a will executed recently, and ex-
presses my well-considered wishes as to the dis-
position of my property. The original will may
have been found and executed before you open
this envelope. In that case, of course this will be-
of no value, and you can destroy it. But I am
aware that valuable papers are liable to loss or in-
jury, and therefore I deem it prudent to place this
duplicate in your possession, that. if the other be
lost, you may see it carried into execution. I
have named you my executor and I am sure, out
of regard to me, you will accept the trust, and
fulfill it to the best of your ability. I have al-
ways felt the utmost confidence in your friend-
ship, and this will account for my troubling you
on the present occasion.

“Your friend,

From this letter Dr. Townley turned to
the B rpg of the will. The contents
filled him with equal surprise and pleas-

ANTHONY PRESTON.”

ure.
“Five thousand dollars to Andy Burke!”
he repeated. “That is capital! It will
start the boy in life, and with his good
habits it will make him sure of a compe-
tence by and by. With half of it he can
buy an interest in Graves’ store, and the
balance will, if well invested, give him a
handsome addition to his income. Then
there’s the bequest for the town library—
a capital idea that! It will do a great
deal to make the town attractive, and be
a powerful agency for refining and educa-
ting the people.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_——_~~s-e_o_____

THE chief end of man—his feet.

 

fulfill to the letter the promise I made to *

 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
     
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
 

 

 

ema gangs

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MERE GN ee ee Chen oe

Saks kD
: ~

“Sep a doves

4

   
  
    
   
   
   
    
      
   
     
   
  
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   

 

 
 

GOOD

NEWS.

 

 

Oe

eS: STORE PH bees GARE”

ISSUED WEEKLY.
NEW YORK, JULY 24, 1890.

Terms to Mail Subscribers:
(POSTAGE FREE.)
3months - - - - - 1 copy, two years. sap $4.00
4months - - - - - 85a | The New York Weekly and
6months - - - - - $1.25 | Goop News, both for one
One Year - - - - - 2:00 | year. <= ~ << +.
2copies, one year- - 4.00

How To SEND Monry.—We will be responsible for
the receipt of money sent to us only when remittance
is made Be Post-Office Money Order, Bank Check or
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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
any amount not over $5.00 for the low sum of. five
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transit unless sent in one of the above ways.

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

IN SUBSCRIBING for Goop News always state what
number you desire your subscription to begin with, as
we commence all Subscriptions with No. 2 in the ab-
sence of other instructions.

Special inducements made for large clubs.

All letters should be addressed to

STREET & SMITH’S GOOD NEWS,
P. 0. Box 2734. 29 & 31 RoseStreet,N.Y.

Contributors to this Number.
“The Cave on the Island,” by Oliver Optic.
“Cadet Carey,” by Lionel Lounsberry (2d
Lieut. U. S. Army).
“Down the Slope,” by James Otis.
‘Reckless Roll,’ by James K. Lennox.
‘His Own Master,” by I. P. Miller.
“On Land and Sea,” by Wm. H. Thomes.
“Only An Irish Boy,” by Horatio Alger, Jr.
“Swipes,” by **Frank.” (Comic.)
“Around the Camp-Fire,” by Harry Horr.
“Short Talks With the Boys,” by M. Quad.
“Animal Sagacity,” by Max Adeler.
“Don’t Trot up Hill,” by Harkley Harker.

Medal Awarded Harry Vanlue.

——2——

|
E take great pleasure in award-
/9 ing our “HuMANE SoctgTry” Gold
Medal to Harry Vanlue, of
Deshler, Ohio, He is a true
hero, and we hope he will live long and
“be honored by all for his noble conduct,

HISTORY OF THE CASE.

This is to certify that on the first day
of June, 1890, while bathing in a reservoir,
at this place, I became exhausted from
having on heavy clothes while so bathing.
I started to swim across this reservoir,
and when about half way across I gave
out. Upon calling for help, a boy by
name of Harry Vanlue, who was upon
the high bank opposite, came to my res-
cue, with most incredible speed, and with
one spring landed in the water about
eight feet from shore. After a few plunges
in my direction, he succeeded in seizing
me from behind. I had sunk once, but
when I came to the top of the water, he
took hold of me arcana. the waist, makin
boldly for the shore. In this position, with
one arm around the waist, he swam with
the other. On account of my greater
weight, I went under the second time,
and staid under the water for.an un-
usual length of time. My rescuer gave a
ery for help, but no one ventured to assist
the two struggling boys in the water. al-
though several were in plain view of us
Upon my reaching the surface the second
time, he (Vanlue) grabbled me by the
collar, where I hung a dead weight to
him, while he made frantic efforts to
reach thesshore. When about seven feet
from the bank, and both of us about com-

letely exhausted and sinking, another

y, named Fritz Wentz, pushed a pole
out from shore to us, while he (Vaniue)

ce)

[swam in hauling me with him. When
pulled up on the bank, I became sick and
unconscious. While much credit is due to
kind friends for resuscitating me after I
was brought out of the water, I feel that
I owe my life to Harry Vanlue.

My age is 16 years.

Harry Vanlue’s age is 13 years.

Signed, ALLEN STEVENSON,
Deshler, Henry County, Ohio.
June 10th, 1890.

DESHLER, OHIO, June 10, 1890.
We have carefully read the history of
the case relative .to the rescue of Allen
Stevenson from drowning in the reservoir
at this place on ‘June Ist, 1890, by Harry
Vanlue, and _ certify the statements
therein made in such history of the case
are completely correct, as we were eye-
witnesses of the rescue.
> ( WALLACE Fox,
Signed Jo. H. DoNOVAN,
(BE. D. Coates.

I hereby certify that,the signatures of
Wallace Fox, C. H. Donovan, and E. B.
Coates, as they appear attached to. the

‘above certificate are ,genuine; that they

are well-known residents of the village of
Deshler, Ohio, and that they are person-
ally known to me to be persons of veracity
whose statements are worthy of full cre-
dence. ;

In testimony whereof I have hereunto
set my hand and’ seal this 20th day of
June, A. D. 1890. ;

’ ‘EK. N. WARDEN,
Ae Publicin and for Henry County,
10.

“Good News” Humane Society.

Se atcnas

HEROISM TO BE REWARDED.

cence

é “) ECOGNIZING the fact that there are
R a large number- of heroes who are
. a never rewarded in any way for risk-
f ing their lives to save others, we
have formed a ‘‘Hurane Society” in con-
nection with Goop Nrws.

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

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

The existance of this society dates from
May, 1890, and notice cannot be taken for
heroic acts performed prior to the date of
organization of this society.

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

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

Applause.

———_—»—_—_—

We have received a large number of congratu-
latory letters from our readers, and would like to
publish all of them; but we are prevented from so
doing by the limited ee at our disposal. We
desire, however, to thank all our readers for their
kind patronage and expressions of approval, and
promise to make ‘Goop* News not only the best
poe but one worthy of a place in every house-

—_—-——

KANSAS Crry, Mo.
GENTLEMEN :—There, are many papers in the
United States for: boys, but none have I seen or
read that I like so well as yours. With much suc-
cess, | remain, ; HENRY W. Cara.

BUFFALO, N. Y.
Eprrors Goop News:

Gentlemen :—I'take your paper from Fred. Mer-
tes, 188 William Street, one of your Buffalo agents.
I consider it as the very best, and feel that you
ought to be congratulated upon the appearance of
it, May it prosper in the future.

ours, very respectfully,
DWARD J. FISCHBACH.

EAGLE Pass, Texas.
DEAR Str:—I received Goop News, and so far I
think it excels.all other papers of the same class.
The stories are the best boys and girls could wish
for. The Goop News arrives in our town Sunday
morning, and if is the first paper I read. I will do
all I can to push Goop News. and get my friends
to read it. Its stories are so interesting one can-
not helpliking them. Wishing Goop News to pros-
per, | remain, yours, Epwin LAMM.
CLEVELAND, O.
Gents :—I think your paper, Goop News, Is the
best and most instructive paper for boys, 1 ever

.

 

 

 

read. When I saw that such authors as Alger,
Optic, and Castlemon write for your paper, I be-
gan right off to take it. 1 am heartily sick of
these woolly Western stories I have been reading
in the and the Yours, INCOG.
LAWRENCE, Mass,
Sirs :—Having’read your paper, I must say that
I am more than satisfied with It.
Yours respectfully,
Cuas. A. MCQUEENEY.
PROVIDENCE, R. I.
DEAR Strs:—I have read your paper, as well as
many others, and IJ think it beats them all.
Yours respectfully,
W. C. CAHEEN,
—_—___+-2e___—-

Don’t Trot Up Hill.

ZWRa>3

G r, YI, you market boy! Don’t hurry up
“EA the hill.”

a “T ain’t to blame, sir,” sang out
“> the frank-faced, handsome lad. “If
I don’t get round in time, I lose my place,
sir. Wish you would talk to my boss.”

“Let me tell you a thing or two,” said
the agent of the Society for the Prevention
of Cruelty. “A boy gets his name up by
treating his horse well. We spot him if
he treats the animal ill. We have a great
deal of influence.” :

“TI don’t care a bunch o’ ’sparagus for
your influence. It ain’t in my heart to be
cruel to the horse, sir. My mother says
there ain’t anything that makes a brute
of a human being so quick as treating any
animal unkindly. But it’s my boss, sir.
Pardon me, he doesn’t seem to care. He
says the horse, harness, and cart, are all
dead things to him. Just so much to be
charged to expense account and worn out
every year. Good-day.” And the boy
was gone rattling down the street.

Some one has called cruelty the devil’s
trade-mark. Certainly, kindness is God-
like. Humane is a word that signifies
manly, by its origin; yet to be humane is
to be kind; then kindness is manliness, is
it. not? A man is never more God-like
than when he is kind.

An old gray horse was standing in
Washington Market last week as his
driver pulled out a Sony of Goop NEws.
The young driver soon became lost in his
paper, and old Gray drew up close to sev-
eral other horses who had just finished
their lunch and began to whisper, “I say,
fellows, we horses round the market here
ought to get something written up for us,
to go in this new paper, because it is
yoing to be read _ by lots of these young
tumans that we have business with. f
know a writer up here on the avenue, be-
fore whose door I stop every few days,
selling bananas to his babies. I'l] tell him
what we would like to say. I propose
each horse here say, just one thing to be
put in the paper.”

That seems to have been agreed to, and
the following list of requests I took out of
old Gray’s ear the next day. It was a roll
of paper, furnished by one of the Adams
Express horses, a very intelligent colt who
had once belonged to a Vermont school
teacher. It was in horse language, which
I have translated; otherwise, it is exactly
as written.

“Don’t trot up hill.”

“Take off our blinders.”

“Please don’t use a check to guy up our
heads.”

“Remember, God made our tails. Don’t

“Tt is bad enough to slip. Don’t strike
us for it.”

“If we kick and bite a fly, don’t think
us gone mad.”

“A new harness is like your new shoe.”

“Some horses are fools. So are some
men? When two fools get together, there
is going to be some fuss made.”

“When we are ugly give us a pill made
up of Patience, Gentleness, Firmness,
mixed with little Petting, in a pail of
water.”

“Give us a regular dinner hour. A horse
may have a half bushel of dyspepsia.”
“Give us a rest on Sunday.”

“You never heard a horse swear.”
“Nor tell alie. But we are often lied
to.”

“Give me all the work, but no standing
in the wind when I’m sweaty.”

“Tam not lame. It is the fool of a
blacksmith who is to blame.”

“Don’t let a woman drive me. She
jerks the bit so much.”

“Why do you make a favorite of m
mate? He shirks, and you whip me up.’

“Give me clean water. I’ll die before I
will drink water that a thirsty soldier
would not touch.”

“Doctor me as you would yourself. Man
and horse are sick about alike.”

“Can’t I roll? It is a whole vacation in
five minutes.”

“Handle my head softly. My eyes are
all the sunshine I have in this life.”

“The horse’s ghost will meet you at the
Judgment Day.

“Talk to me instead of whipping me. I
can understand.”

“Remember I once saved your life.
Don't forget the good I have done.”

“When I die — me up quickly; I
shudder at the thought of being danced
on by rude boys.” ARKLEY HARKER.

 

Ticklets,

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.
The Two Pulls.
American Boy—‘‘What’s a political pull, pop

Wise Father—“‘It’s a pull that generally follol
& police pull.”

Two Points of View.

Stranger—‘ Ifa man falls down an open
hole, can he sue the owner of the premises
damages ?”

Lawyer —'‘Certainly, sir, certainly, big da
and get them, too. Give me the particulars.

“Well, as my :brother was passing your lt
this morning he fell through a coal hole and D
his leg.”

“Hem! Did he use ordinary vigilance to
vent such an accident ? Did he look at his feeb
he walked? Did he stop and examine the ©
dition of the pavement before entering upoD
Answer me that, sir.” ;

“Stop? Why no—” ;

“Ah, ha! I thought so. Guilty of criminal D
gence. He might have fallen on one of my
family under that coal hole—might have killed a
all, sir. As itis I shall sue him for damages ™
mussing up my coal bin.”

A Practical Bride.

Miss Ebony—‘I’s goin’ ter bah married
week, Missus.” <im

Kind Lady—“Indeed. Then I suppose, CH)
that I'll have to seek another washwoman, W0P"
] ”

“No, ’ndeed, Missus, I’ll do the wash same’s”
foh, an’ if yo’ please won’t you ax yo’ tfrieD
day’d like some washin’ done. I spects @
wif a husband has got ter hustle.”

Cause and Effect.

Friend—‘‘So that loud-mouth anarchist 18 ¥!
twin brother? My! My! How did you two 0)
to be so different? You are one of the most *
dustrious, conservative, law-abiding citizens!
the community.”

Good Citizen—‘Well, you see, my brother
brought up by our grandmother, who let him
just as he pleased; but I lived at home and

to behave.” paak
Reward of Merit. ih
Mr. Flyer (tremblingly)—“George, I—T see
bottom has dropped. out of X. Y. Z. stock, and ‘
was only yesterday I sent you to Catchem & CD
em’s with an order for 500 shares. I am rul
ruined——” bs.
George (confidential clerk)—“I started out
order the stock for you but I got on a how
spree and forgot all about it.” deat
Mr. Flyer—‘“‘Saved! Saved! George, my
boy, I shall double your salary.” ii

Modern Merchants. iv:
Mrs. Bargan—‘‘What are you worryin’ about (nis
morning ?” Py
Mr. Bargan—‘“I need some new clothes aro
new watch, and. I can’t make up my
whether to get the clothes at a store where
give away watches, or to buy the watch at a8 y
where they give away clothes.” ;
Didn’t Go. :
First Washingtonian—“Did you attend Gene

Greely’s reception the other night ?”
Second Washingtonlan—'‘No. It rained.”

Anxious to Keep Up.

Bookseller—‘‘Good morning, sir! Anything
can do for you this morning ?

College Graduate—‘‘Well, the fact is, I
joined a Browning Society, and-——”

“Ah! 1see, We have some very fine editio?
of Browning.” ‘

“Oh, I don’t want a copy of Browning. I b#
one. I want a pony.” fri

A Popular Edition.

Editor-in-Chief (wildly)—“The careless toremay
has pied all our letters from Europe, every one
our column cable dispatches, and the entire aro
torial page filled with able articles on the E ne
pean situation. The type is all in a mess on ¢
floor.”

Newspaper Proprietor (calmly)—“Print OT
paper just as it is and tell the pressman to ruD ™
a million extra copies.”

Very Brilliant.

0
Young Lady—‘I wish to look at the tasnionable
parasols for this season.”
Bring the lady

        

oe

Clerk—‘‘Yes, madam. Cash!
pair of smoked glasses.”

A Revelation.

Bliffers (at a theater)—‘What’s that high box ©
front ?” ie
Stranger—‘‘That’s the stage.”
“Stage, eh? What are those people doing?”
“They are the actors. Were you never
theater before ?” Ke
“Ob, yes, often. But I never saw anything
that before.” ‘4
“Indeed! What have you usually seen ?’
“Straw or velvet with ribbons and flowers
spapngles and things.” ‘

An Old-Timer.
First Antiquarian (a few centuries hence)—""T
skeleton is probably the remains of some *+™
Yorker who flourished about the year 1890.” 4
Second Antiquarian— He must have lived }
before that period, for not one of the bon
broken.”
A Terrible Disappointment.
Anxious Mother— What in the world has 2
ened ?”
: Small Son— Boo hoo! Me an’ Tomm Trade
was readin’ all about the ‘Child Scout’ ina Y oll
book, an’ we got so interested we saved UP
money an’ bought pistols an’ knives and thing®
Anxious Mother—*‘ Mercy on me!” :
Small Son—‘‘An’ to-day we got all ready,
started to—to go West an’ fight Indians ; but 0
bad boys in the next block threw stones at
we had to come back, boo, hoo, hoo!”

A Mean Trust. ‘4
English Sportsman—“ No fox hunting last ¥
My eyes! Why was that?” vir ie
American Sportsman (dolefully)—‘‘These 50
monopolists got up a corner on aniseed.”

Secege

permesss
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

 
 
 

 

 
  

 

 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
   

 
    
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sea Sere wi i@ a Payers : } y Des
See a saa EY a LE ae Cee ee ee re ~ = way ~ = =
:
GOooD NEWS. 1S9
———
1 |
TELE with the utmost care. If the robbers} “What are you going todo now?” de-| The sound of their voices seemed to pro-
should suddenly awake and show fight, |manded Paul, who thought they had done | duce no effect upon the sleepers.
|the boys could leap into their own boat, |enough, and that it was quite time to re- “They may have been here three or four
0 | shove off in a hurry, and drag the other | turn to Bearsboro: | hours,” continued Lynn, again looking the
t) after them. Lynn only put his forefinger on his lips, | men over. “They may have slept enough
+ | lynn was still as s and ar onee ie — a pot He eokon a upon | to pie a oat See:
; |as if the burglars hac een a mile from | the lake, and then glanced about him at “T think we hac etter go back to the
7”: an By OLIVER OPTIC. lhim. He was in no hurry, and took an | everything he could see on the island. village and get the sheriff and a force to
mn | ; 7 occasional look at the sleepers. When he| “What are you going to do next, Lynn?” | come down and capture them,” suggested
: te CAVE ON THE IsLAND” was commenced last | was satisfied that everything was right, | asked Paul, anxiously, for he was very | Paul. ;
: 7 - | he beckoned Paul to the burglars’ boat. much afraid that his cousin was a little} “We don’t want to bother with the
| CHAPTER TII | Itwas a light keel, and the boys lifted | too enterprising for their common safety. { sheriff and his ‘force,’ ” laughed Lynn.
g for | : coe 3 the bow and shoved it into water deep “T have come to the conclusion that we As he finished his remark, he gave Ben
A SUDDEN AWAKENING. enough to float it. They then waded into |had better take these fellows back to the; Shannon a smart kick. The man opened
sae ee | the water, and proceeded to examine the | village with us,” replied Lynn, indiffer-| his eyes and looked up at the two boys.
use % AUL and Lynn pulled half way | articles in the stern sheets. ently. de 3 He was bewildered by the whisky he had
yroke ff, around the island again, and the| The first thing that Paul pulled out of| “Oh, come! That’s carrying the joke a| boozed upon, and did not take in the situ-
¥ boat was then within a few rods of| one of the bundles was a very large and | little too far,” replied Paul, trying to keep | ation at once.
pre | the entrance to the cave. The boys] plethoric pocket-book. He opened it and | his lower jaw from dropping down. “Good morning, Ben Shannon! Are you
et 08 . had each tied a handkerchief around his| found it filled with bank bills. He saw “We can make an easy thing of it, Paul;| going to sleep here all day?” demanded
on | Sar, so that it should make as little noise | fifties and hundreds enough to satisfy him | but I don’t want you to go into anything | Lynn.
. m, dossible in the row-lock. that the pocket-book contained two or|you don’t believe in,” answered Lynn, “Holloa, Tom Tipton! What are you
Now, hold up, Paul,” said Lynn, in a doing on this island?” asked Paul, when
neg low tone. “Can you scull a boat?” lhe had administered a kick to the other
own | Of course I can,” whispered the coun- | — — burglar.
od S| try bo . 4 Teli SS Tom Tipton sprang to his feet at once.
3 fOr | Then I will get into the boat, and see sa 2 S ane At the same moment Ben Shannon came
| how the land lies, while you scull the <<a S ta’ fully to himself, and both of them gazed
) 20at to the shore,” continued Lynn. MEE as : “~\._ " at their early visitors.
nex Ou mustn’t make a bit of noise AEE 7 — , pais: “Good-by, my lads!” exclaimed
about it, for I don’t know how LF EE | VBE” Re: “\ Lynn, as he retreated from the
cleo, funk the burglars are. If SE CMB E tate >. cave and leaped into the
won't €y wake up they will A SN =r Ny a1 . : Sur Flirt.
3 be | te it warm forus, Kina st ; Paul followed him,
astet | “si at least, compel Te R i NNSA KY i and they waded out
jady | te to beat a re- MILI SAAN SASS SAWN . to the boat a few
reat. ff ! Oo BKC ) .\ feet from the
You haven’t /““; ‘shore.
told me what CYP AZ .
your you were gZ0- WY) “ : ee
a mg to do, and W/Z CHAPTER IV
ns 2 | ey Delp VL JA PARLEY AND
; it |4 prec
was : tho ut : ‘ A PUSH.
m wt Owing ?” 1% AoyN spite of
Bay Pe r ed 4X. af his rather
tiently impa- At hurried
‘ a y. if ’ > retreat
et oe pull one RU EN from the cave,
heat oth. and I the | , ANY Lynn Park-
xed— think? t don i , wood seemed
ae shall to be in no
ut to 1¢ Out any- haste to leave
witDB “pe wer the island. He
can t te yicked up his
deat peat to do till ae scat so
a time did Paul.
Bie es, re- They were
t (nis tw aes ready to pull,
Wee but they did
ind : Make sure of not do 50.
ee ) © boat and Ben Shan-
tore ae TH, in it non soon came
tan 4 hen we to a realizing
wh cecil de sense of the
a - at to do situation. He
ne pe and his com-
ee w a s panion h ad
Satisie 1 1 e certainly been
Sfied with discovered on
g we at answer, the_ island,
th 1€ sculled and the arti-
nave e boat very cles on the
tion's ; rey ' nt stern sheets of
beach port 1¢ ~ we i the burglars
nave : in front p = wh) en boat proved
He “4 , pany Go [}{ it VL Wyrm / conclusiv e ly
ee as will- that they did
& to follow the lead of his companion, : three thousand dollars, not intend to
ema th he wanted some understanding of the | and perhaps more. have their re-
ne it. ethod of operations. | Paul showed the treas- treat made
euro majeo was cool and brave; and this fact|ure to Lynn, and Th | known to the
n the “e Paul ready to “play second fiddle” | pointed out the name | public.
J h 4S cousin from the great city, though |of the postmaster “It said it-
he th ad always been a sort of leader among | printed with a pen on self” that he
in 0 © boys of the village and its vicinity. |the leather. There was and Tom Tip-
he” young New Yorker stood up in the!no longer any doubt ton had
beac} of the boat as it approached the that the drunken sleep- robbed the
nable sity, 1. He made a careful survey of the ers in the cave were the safe of the
‘4ation of the robbers’ boat. The shore | robbers of the major’s post master,
udy ® han quite bold, and the boat had been | store. : a) and that the
the €d up just far enough only to stick on Lynn found several == burglars had
it aeond. A nearer view of the articles in packages of bonds, and a got villain-
ox 10 ne ‘sured him that they were a portion of | other valuable secur- : 4 ously drunk
~°Ontents of Major Drumm/’s safe. ities. There were also a = either before
- ~ then turned his attention to the oc- | a couple of gold watches = = 3 or after they
n 8 “nts of the cave. They were still sound|}and a _ considerable = 3 A took posses-
in & earn? and snoring like a couple of young | quantity of silver ware. sion of the
ke Wwhatduakes, From the uneasy position in | “Let us make sure ‘‘Now IS OUR TIME,” SAID LYNN TO HIS COMPANION. ‘‘PULL WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT.” cave, or prob-
p - ich they lay on the sand, it was evi-|of these, anyway,” ably both be-
) of th that they had imbibed the contents whispered Lynn, as he pushed the burg- | speaking out loud, though as he did so, he!fore and after. Very likely they would
g and |} thei,” bottles until they had fallen over in lars’ boat toward the other. e looked at the sleepers to notice the effect | have managed the matter better for them-
: I . drunken +g we | “Ill keep this money in my pocket,” re- | of his voice upon them. selves if they had been entirely sober. If
: beayee planted his oar gently on_the| plied Paul, as he stuffed the pocket-book They still slept and still snored. : they had taken the boat out of the water,
opis before and ap the progress of the boat | into his breast pocket. 5, i I will do anything you will,” added | and concealed it in the cave it is not likely
New imple it grated on the sand. Plying the It will be safer in our boat, in case the Paul, nettled by the words of his cousin, | that the boys would have discovered them.
boat, ment in his hand very skillfully, the | men should get hold of you, added Lynn. | which rather impeached his courage. If they had not imbibed so much liquor,
1 Jong Nois was worked on the beach without| Paul preferred to keep the money in his Lynn led the way into the cave, and|they would probably have kept awake,
ies 8 Th? far enough to hold her. pocket. The bonds and other papers, as | Paul picked up a heavy piece of drift-wood | and would have seen the Flirt, at least in
at a leader of the enterprise sat down on |.well as the articles of gold and silver, | for use in case of an emergency, as he fol- j; season to retreat. The Evil One that led
ings et, and took off his shoes and stock- | were packed away inthe stern locker of} lowed his cousin. The city boy walked | them on did not inspire them to take the
3 hap Wej *] Stepping lightly into the water, his| the boat. There was nothing left on the | boldly into the cave without regard to the | necessary precautions. ‘
haa it releasing the boat from the hold it | boat but the oars, and Lynn concluded to| noise he made. He calmly surveyed the | Don’t you think we had better quit the
adler Bios’ he worked it up still farther. By | transfer them to the other craft. |forms of the burglars as they lay twisted | island?” asked Paul, as he joined his
yale. eae he instructed his companion to pre- The country boy did not understand the | upon the sand. |} cousin on the beach. 2
Ip a i himself for action as he had dade object of his cousin in removing the oars;{ Paul picked up one of the bottles. The} “Time enough,” replied Lynn; “keep
ing pect. 'but he was satisfied that Lynn had a|odor of strong liquor came _ from it, | your eyes wide open, and be as cool as
yy aD! sh took off his shoes and rolled up his| large “head,” and he was willing to let | though it was nearly empty.. The other | though you lived in an ice-house.”
‘them the ae legs. Taking to the water near| him have his own way. | was half full, and it was plain that the| Ben Shannon walked down from the
us ab pow of the boat, he joined his cousin} Lynn pulled the burglars’ boat up to the ; robbers had drank all they could rather | cave to the beach. It was plain that he
) Bane beach. Lynn crept a little way into| shore, and grounded the bow lightly on than all they wanted. rm : had not entirely recovered from his de-
. bs, ae and turned up his nose as though | the sand, so that it could be easily shoved| “Who _ is _ this fellow? asked Lynn, | bauch with the bottle, for his — was
year! mn aa led the whisky. : j off. It lay but a few feet from the Flirt, | pointing to the larger of the two. _ |rather unsteady. Tom Tipton followed
lowe ane went to the burglars’ boat, fol-| as Squire Birchfield’s boat was called. aa That is Ben Shannon. [he other is him, but he seemed to be in a worse con-
ules? 5 4p k y Paul. Lynn directed his cousin} “Now be ready to move in a hurry,” | Tom Tipton,” replied I aul, following the | dition than his companion. :
the e fast the long painter of this boat | whispered Lynn, when_ he had both boats|example of his companion and speaking “What are you doing here, my boys?’ Ben
} 1€ stern of the other, which was done | place just as he wanted them. out loud. | asked, trying to be good-natured.

 
“We are out for the morning air, trying
to catch a few fish for breakfast,” answerec
Lynn.

“Did you get any?” asked Ben, with an
uneasy glance at the two fisherman.

“We caught eighteen, and that’s more
than enough; so won’t you go up and have
some breakfast with us?”

“No, thank you; our
that we can’t leave just
Shannon, whose tongue seemed _ to be
double its ordinary thickness. “But all
right; you go and get your breakfast.
Hold on a minute. Don’t go just yet.
Take a drop of whisky before you go.” —

“T’m much obliged to you; [never drink
any whisky,” laughed Lynn.

But Tom Tipton brought the bottle that
contained the most of the mischief, and
handed it to Ben.

“A little whisky in the morning before
breakfast gives a man a good appetite,”
continued the principal burglar.

business is such
yet,” said Ben

“Then you must be fearfully hungry,”
added Lynn. 3 2
“Ha, ha, ha! Very good joke!” an-

swered Ben, with a sepulchral laugh.

“T think you had better go up to Bear-
boro, and have some breakfast,” persisted
Lynn.

“We don’t go there,” said Ben, rather
vacantly. 5 ;

“There is lots of fun up there this morn-
ing. It’s almost a circus in the main
street.”

“Ts that so?” demanded Ben, trying to
stiffen himself up.

“That's so. They say the postmaster’s
store has been cleaned out in the night.
You had better go up with us and see the
sport,” persisted Lynn.

“No, sir. We have turned our backs
upon Bearsboro. We are going off to find
work. Ain’t we, Tom?”

“That’s just what we ‘are go’n’ to do,”
replied Tipton.

“Don’t trouble yourself about work. You
will get enough of that, and I shall be
surprised if you don’t have all you want
to do for the next five years,” chuckled

Lynn.
“See here, young man, what do you
mean by that?’ blustered Ben, walking

toward Lynn.

“T think you needn't distress yourself
for the want of work. That’s all I mean
by it. I’m sure you will get all the work
you want, and perhaps more.”

“Look here, Ben Shannon,” suddenly in-
terposed Tom Tipton, who had been cast-
ing hazy glances into the boat in which
they had come from the village.

“What's the matter, Tom?” demanded
Ben, bracing himself up again.

“What have you done with them things
we left in the stern of the boat?”

“T haven’t done anything with them,”
replied Ben, hastening to their boat.
3 What have you done with them?”

“Thaven’t touched them!” protested Tom
Tipton.

Paul glanced at the bottle Ben held in
his hand. He saw the words, “Liquor
Agency,” and the name of Major Drumm
upon the label.

The postmaster was the liquor agent of
the town, and in any other capacity he
would have hung himself rather than sold
a drop of ardent spirits.

Probably both of the men had drank very
freely from. the two bottles, which not
only proved that they came from the
major’s store, but also that they were not
in condition to take care of their plunder
after they had obtained it.

The dispute between the burglars began
to grow serious as each contended that the
other had concealed the valuables taken
from the safe. Both were cross and ugly
from the effects of drinking, and it looked
as though they would soon get into a fight.

“Don’t you think we had better go be-
fore they fight?’ asked Paul. “We have
the things stolen, and those fellows may
get them away from us if we stay too long.”

“We won’t stay too long; only just long
enough,” answered Lynn, glancing at the
burglars, who seemed to be on the point
of pitching into each other.

But the battle proved to be’ only a war
of words. The two men had suddenly be-
come calmer, and were talking together in
a low tone. They pointed at the Flirt sev-
eral« times, and’ it was easy enough to
guess that they suspected the plunder was
in the other craft.

See here, you fellows!” shouted Ben, as
he toppled toward the float. “Have you
been taking things out of our boat?”
eee ee demanded Lynn, in re-
na the Bist anne moment he leaped
ees silrt, and took his place on the
after thwart. “Shove the boat off
get in,” he added, in a low
who was making haste
safe place.

“Our things!” yelled Ben Shannon
angrily, for the burglars seemed to have
arrived at the conclusion that their visit.
ors had taken possession of the plunder.

Paul leaped into the Flirt, shovine her
off as he did so. But Lynn checked her
with his oar, so that she did not straighten
the line that connected the two boats.

“We _haven’t any of your things !” re-
plied Lynn, emphasizing the words that

tone, to Paul,
to put himself in a

|
|

|academy, and the naval academy as well,
as you |

 

GOOD

indicated the doubtful ownership of the |

| money, bonds, and other papers. |

“Did you take some things out of the |
stern sheets of the boat?” cried Ben Shan-
non, letting out his fury against the two
visitors.

“We found some property belonging to
Major Drumm, and we thought we had |}
better take care of it; that’s all,” replied |
Lynn.

“T’ll teach you not to meddle with things
that don't belong to you,” foamed Ben.

“That’s just the very thing we are try- |

ing to teach you,” laughed Lynn. “If you
are inquiring about the money, bonds, |

gold watches, and silver from the postmas-
ter’s safe you needn’t trouble yourselves
any more about them, for we have them
safely stowed away in the locker of this
boat.”

“You have stolen them, you rascals!”
roared Ben Shannon, exasperated at the
thought of losing his booty.

“Don’t waste any compliments upon us.
If you won’t go up to town and_ breakfast
with us, we shall have to return alone,” |
added Lynn, as he gave a backward stroke |
with his oar.

“Give us back the things. If you don’t
we will drown you both!” cried Ben Shan-
non.

“Catchee before you drownee!” taunted |
Lynn, as he gave another back-stroke with
his oar, and his example was followed by
Paul.

“Come back here!” shouted Ben.

“No, thank you; you said you would
not breakfast with us and see the circus
in the village,” responded Lynn.

Paul thought his cousin was doing all
he could to anger the principal burglar,
and he had his private opinion that it was
bad policy to do so. At any rate, both
the burglars were filled with wrath.
When they saw that the Flirt was by this |
time out in deep water, so that she could |
not be reached by wading, they rushed
into their own boat.

They were still too tipsy to be very rapid
in their movements. Lynn watched them
closely till they were seated on the|
thwarts, and appeared to be looking after |
the oars.

“Now is our time,” said he, sharply.
“Swing her around, and then pull with
all your might.”

The long painter of the burglars’ boat
straightened, and the craft was drawn off |
the sand. As soon as she floated the two
boys gave way with all their strength.
The Flirt led the way, and the other boat
could not help following. But it was evi-
dent that the fun had only just begun.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
CADET CAREY;
OR,

THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S LEGACY,

 

 

 

A ROMANCE OF A WEST POINT BOY.
By LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,
2d Lieut. U. S. Army.

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

o oe

CHAPTER XVIII.
PERSECUTION.

HE insults at dri!l, and on every
iH? Other opportunity that offend were
> b) kept up by Cadet Clarence Tarpley
—* against the new man from the
frontier.

The young officer did all in his power to
make it-unpleasant for Kit, and more,
went out of his way to get other cadets to
also lend their aid in tormenting the
“Lone Star Cadet,” as Tarpley had named
the border youth, for Kit still wore his
star, it having been given to him by ¢
Texan whose life he had saved, and it bore
an bee to that effect, so that the
commandant allowed him to wear it as a
badge of honor.

In all large gatherings of men, and boys,
too, there is always found a certain few
evil spirits who are ready and willing to
give a kick to the under dog in the fight,
so to sneaks or to those who cannot help
themselves.

So it was with West Point, for Tarpley
had aclique there who took pleasure in
tormenting those whom circumstances
prevented from hitting back.

Though it is true that the military

  

are the best institutions the world over
for developing the manly traits of a youth,
and iney enking in him the highest sense
of honor and self-respect, still there are
black sheep in every fold, and a few are to
be found among West Pointers and the
naval school. ;

So Tarpley, after consultation with a few
of his boon companions, decided to make
it rather warm for the new men, but es-
pecially so for the border boy.

. ear he is the son of a scout, boys,

| it has leaked out that he was arrested for

| he

|even, and so he had it all his own way.

and this was received with a hurrah.

‘of devilish ingenuity, and a regular pro-

| himself with all haste and stand zuard at

just sunk to sleep when a squad of cadets

 

who got some of the generals to write to
the President and get him here.

NEWS.

—

 

“He boasts that the star he wears he|
won for
say that.

“But you should have seen him when he
came, for a greater guy I never saw, and

having a fight with a negro.

“He thought he’d scare us all by dress-
ing in buckskin, top boots, and a som-
brero, but we didn’t scare, and then he
began to bully me at drill, simply because |
had seen some Southern militia drill |
according to Hardee, and it is harder to}
make him unlearn what he has only an
idea of than to teach those who do not
know the first rudiments of a drill; but
we must break him in to-night, boys, so
what do you propose?”

Whether the clique believed all that
Tarpley said about I<it, no one seemed to |
care to contradict him, if he knew better |

 

In answer to his question as to what
was tobe done first as a “breaking in”
process, several made propositions.

One was to tie Kit to his bed, give him
a shower bath, and thus prevent him from
being at roll call.

Another was to put Kit ona diet of
soap, forcing him to eat it, while a third
suggested that he be forced to black the
boots of all the cadets whose pedal cover-
ings could be secured for the purpose.

One suggested that he be blacked, his
face and hands painted with ink, one side
with blue, the other with black, while his
hands be given a coloring with red ink,

 

Such were afew of the indignities se-
lected as a breaking in ee for Kit; in |
fact, he was to be hazed to the full extent

gramme was made of the different acts, |

|and the time set when they were to be |

carried out.

That night Kit retired really tired from |
his hard work and studies; but he had
marched in and he had orders to dress
a certain place until relieved.

He obeyed with alacrity, and there the
officer of the day on his midnight rounds
found him.

“What does this mean, sir?” he asked,
sternly.

“IT was ordered to stand sentinel here,
sir.”

“Who gave you the order?”

“Ido not know, sir, but a squad came
to my room and placed me here.”

“Go to your room, sir, and I shall re-
port you for being out without leave.”

“Tf it was a mistake, sir, is it my fault?”

“Silence, sir, and obey me!”

Kit obeyed in silence; but as he entered
his room he mused aloud:

“This is a hard life, but I guess I can
stand it. I must be more careful in future.”

As the officer went on his rounds, he
muttered to himself:

“That is the fellow about whom Fred
Nevil wrote me, telfimg,me to keep a close
eye on him, as he Would be up to some
ugly tricks, and predicting that he would
not go through his first year at the Point.”

 

The next day Kit found himself reported,

but could offer no explanation, not being |
| allowed to do so, and was put on double |
duty as punishment for being found out‘of |

his room without leave.

Utterly worn out the next night he had
retired when Tarpley entered.

“What, sir, have you dared to go to bed?”

“Taps sounded, sir,” was the quiet reply.

“But this is your night to black the
boots, sir. Here, men, bring in these
boots,” and Kit was put to work blacking
thirty pairs of boots.

He finished his task at last, and two
cadets came for the boots, just after he got
into bed, as he had been told they would.

At roll call he arose, very tired, to find
that in the darkness the two cadets had
put his clothes in the foot-tub.

He was not at roll call, of course, and |

besides was reported for having a light
burning in his room long after hours.

He made no complaint, but was told by
cadets who felt the persecutions put upon
him, that he was simply being hazed, and
yet hé dared not disobey orders brought to
1im to perform certain alleged duties, not
knowing when they were official, or tricks
played upon him.

To be upon the safe side he obeyed,
until one night patience ceased to be a
virtue when Cadet Tarpley and several
others came in with a denpind at which
he rebelled.

They brought with them two other new-
comers, handcuffed and with smeared
faces, and Cadet Tarpley said:

“Now, sir, we are going to rechristen
you the Red Hand of the Rocky Mountains
—boys, have you got the coloring?”

CHAPTER XIX.
AT BAY.
mm
SPAHERE is an unwritten law among
fe cadets and midshipmen which is
(2), never to betray a comrade.
7 This law, in ninety-nine cases to

 

the hundred, holds good, no matter what
the provocation,

Of course Cadet Carey could have re-

life-saving—bah ! anybody could , ported the persecutions put upon him.

Though he was a new man, yet he knew
who were the persecutors.

It was Tarpley’s clique, and he had
come to know them not too well.

But, though on knowing this unwritten
law of “suffer in silence,” he had not evel
thought of telling on his tormentors.

He was beginning to learn the inner life
of the academy, the fact that a few low
natures could break a proud spirit, as the
constant dripping of water wears away 4
stone.

He knew that nine-tenths of the cadets
had nothing to do with his misfortunes.

He felt that they, too, had been tried
also by hazing, and yet he had overhear
enough, after a few weeks to feel that he
was having far more pat upon him than
had ever been known before.

There was no let up to Tarpley’s plots
and plans against him, and Kit had heard
him urged by many to “let up on him, for
he seems like a mighty nice fellow, Tarp.

But Cadet Tarpley was not of the let:
ting up kind, for his pride had beet
humbled by Kit, and he was of a crue
nature.

His parents were very rich. As a mere
lad he had had his dog-cart, horses and
dogs, and, in fact, grew to despise poor
people.

He regarded Kit as low born, poor, and
one who had noright to come to West
Point to make a gentleman of himself.

Then, too, as I have before made know};
he was possessed of great strength, was
an athlete and delighted in making others
fear him.

He was intelligent, stood well in his

| classes, spent money freely, and was @

good cadet officer.
So it was that he had decided, at last,

|upon the indignity of painting Kit’s face

and hands with ink.

Three cups were brought in, one hold.
ing blue ink, another black, and the third

“armine.

Three paint brushes were also ready”

Tarpley himself had a pair of steel han@
cuffs.

Kit’s sombrero, corduroy jacket, buck
skin leggings and top boots with spurts
were at once seized upon from their hi@
ing-place, and in these he was to De
dressed after being painted, and unless be
went out thus attired and besmeared he
could not leave his room, for the manacles
were to be put on, too. ,

That he would dare tell who were his

; persecutors and insulters, Tarpley had 10

idea, so he considered himself’ and bis
comrades safe from punishment.

The two unfortunates brought in by the
cadets under Tarpley’s lead, were irone@,
and their faces slightly smeared on eae
cheek, but the master work was to be
upon Kit.

“What is your intention, Cadet Tarpley;
regarding me?” calmly asked Kit, as t
leader of the clique of seven faced him.

“To rebaptize you—that is, change yout
name from the Lone Star Cadet to thé
Red Hand of the Rockies.”

“How do you propose to do it,
ask, as I am interested somewhat?” ;

“Boys, upon my word, I believe he 1
tends to resist; but you know the old say;
ing of the worm turning upon the hee
that crushes it,” and Tarpley laughed in #4
sneering way.

Then he continued:
shall do.” :
“I shall be most happy to learn, sir.”
“Well, as I am an artist, I shall paint
the left side of your face blue—it is o@
with ink, you know. I

“The right side shall be black, and
shall put about your neck a color of red,
blue and black, painting a padlock 0”
such as my dogs used to wear. |

“Your delicate hands, strangely smal
for a gentleman in buckskin, I will pal®
a beautiful carmine, and then, when yo
are dressed up in the outlandish togs !
which you came here, and wearing ste
bracelets, it will be our delight to see
you appear at roll call in the morning.

“Why, I declare it will be immense.

“ Are you ready, sir?”

‘ JO ,

4 .

“What?”

“T say, no!” "

“Do you intend to cause me to use force!

aR

“Hear him, boys.”

“Yes, and mark what I say: 3

“T came here to seek a military educy
tion, and endeavor to become in time }3 I
the nobler men and splendid gentleme? f
have known on the frontier as officers ©
the United States Army. f

“T met only one there, like yoursells
Cadet Tarpley, whom I deemed a disgr@®
to his intfowne* é

“Hear him, men—hear him!” cried Tar
pley, while the light in his eyes gt
more evil. I

“I intend that you shall hear me, fo
particularly address you, sir. 5

“From the first you began your insults
not only put upon me, but the others W
entered with me.

“T obeyed all orders given me, no
ter how ridiculous, and haye hum
myself often to do what I was told to

may I

“T’ll tell you what

—

tr
med
doy

     

    
     
      
       
      
          
      
        
       
         
      
   
  
    
   
  
   
  
    
  
   
  
   
    
      
    
  
   
  
   
     
   
  
   
  
    
   
   
    
  
   
   
 
   
     
    
   
    
  
  
     
   
   

 

 

  
  
       
        
  
     
    

    
 
   
  
  
  

    
      
      
        
       
 
   

   
     
   
   
    
    
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
  
   

   
      
GOOD NEWS.

 

 

 

a7 a

 

‘Ra
¢

tT wish
‘Pall thin

U

nalyself : ut I tell you frankly, and I
Nall I say, that if you attempt to put
4 aid, 7 Indignity upon me as you have
‘ Shall defend myself and you will
ks aged that you force self-defense

Frade” Was something in the manner and
; neMeany Kit that carried conviction that

ni tha’ to do just what he threatened,
y More timid among the clique
| Bus Gpbrevent real trouble. : :
Dyn sire atence Tarpley, confident in his

4 ae h, laughed lightly and said:
Dan eats have no terror for me,
him} &$ you shall see—come, men, seize
¢ 6

j meek. all of you, for I make no idle
Ut inte and the voice of Kit was quiet
MSely determined.
CHAPTER XX.
MASTER OR MAN.
Wee DET CLARENCE TARPLEY laid
\ Side his jacket with the air of one

4 Te ’ ; :
Ng with oS &Sneer upon his face, ming-

q imtise¢ smile of perfect confidence in

Din, We stood ready to obey his every |

: Olden though the three cup and brush

ino tee’ «In the background hardly |

Pr 69 it hecessary for them to aid their
Pork of Tades who were todo the rough
+The othe stering the beligerent cadet.
i eae two new-comers stood in the
eetlean also, almost frightened at the
B Upon hesk which Kit Carey was tak-
Tithe, mMself of resistance.
Wer, at te ad an upward flow, how-
ther jy © thonght that one of their
1" Ate ye decided to hit. back.
P Steppaq er e2dy, sir?” asked Tarpley, as
7 os teleeden 6 ite a
a2 most impatient at your de-
At tres the quiet response.
+ -arence Tarpley made a spring

ni dy the throat, and then choke |

Su Dmissi
C ssion.
adet Tarpley met with an obstacle

not expected to encounter, |

1 fist of
ig a Cadet Carey fair and square

© Went
Paingt *nt back as though he had run

ne ty Thdia-rubber wall, and if any |

ni
Put, hist Deen wanting to serve as red
He Stry hose furnished it.
tth a “ie the floor at full length, but
Pon , of rage was rising to rush
Tek hi daring new-comer who had
f keg ™ when he went down again,
Ock r by one of his clique who
en, €d backward very much as he

The
y at ae together and rushed upon the
v » NOw all four of them at once.

Jet drive his right, then his
a Sens forward that was

» Carried all four to the floor.
Panther’s movements he was

as Cadet Tarpley rose, |

ou are my first love, Tar-
threw himself upon him.

€rce struggle followed, and |

: © Tarpley went flying out
Rt, @ * . . f
PePu, “Tidor as though hurled from a

ay,

AR ani all of you!” cried Kit, now in
the cup bearers also felt the
8 blows, and one after the
tly thrown out of the room.

a
ale

ordqeotn aS seized again, dragged into
‘ nd then came the hissing

log

ane th the manacles upon that man,
heey weak every bone in your cow-
lanes ho mistaking this threat,
hve © Keys Tarpley whined :

Ty ro,28 are in my pocket, and you
You yken ; :
am Wig MY arm.”
“The to | e) and you know it, though
ere I ae broken your head.

e
bt },0rd
ike the Was obeyed, for Tarpley did
Pu P} 90k in Kit’s eyes.
Vv
pian Pon Tarpley.”
Ba tell t- wish to, Cadet Carey.”
bop idley t you,” and Plummer obeyed.
q for hee is ink enough on the
E eine © Purpose, so get that brush
Rs Nd 7, '° Cheeks of Cadet Tarpley
Mh, 28 @ Ou never mind the red, for
bth to t h on his face now,” and Kit
q miss. other new-comer, who.
WS of obeyed with real alacrity.

A, Was

fence T° heed to fear him now.
© wag tPley would have resisted,
ping 'Zed by Kit and held as

: the Ag he and he at once realized,

‘Ae tiger had been clipped,

ands Was, that he was as a child |

‘filled of this border youth.

hi
BY Y thought there had been
fait facet for one night, and held
| », Severa >

Atpley'y downtell, them rather en

dipped in the ink spilled on the floor when
the rush was made.
A few other cadets, hearing the noise
had come to the scene, and one asked:
“What’s all the rumpus?”

tables upon Tarpley.”
“T thought Tarpley was going too far.”
“Yes, and I knew there was stuff in
Carey—— Great Scott! is that you, Tarp?”

|cried one, as the besmeared cadet was

hurled out into the corridor by Kit.
“Great Ceesar’s Ghost! you look like a
harlequin, Tarpley,” said another.

Bradley suggested, as an excuse for the
bully’s appearance.

“Yes, and he seems to have used more
than one mop, from the looks of 'Tarpley’s
clique—bravo for you, Carey,” said Cadet
Danforth.

“Tt’s time for the rounds,” cried a voice,
and another added, as all stampeded:
“There comes Weizer?”

 

‘ had an unpleasant duty to per- |
™m, but would not shrink from it. |

Mhed, bleeding, suffering, Clar- |
Y was rising from the floor |

der you, or take the conse- |

Ummer, put those manacles |

officer who had before caught Kit when
standing on guard under orders of his tor-
mentors.

He was the same officer who had re-
ceived a letter from Captain Fred Nevil
from Fort L——, which hinted that the
border boy would give trouble at the Point
and needed close looking after.

Upon a second reading of Captain
Nevil’s letter, Captain Ernest Weizer,
who was not the quickest of comprehen-
sion, came to the conclusion that he could
|“read between the lines;” that is, that
there was more in the letter than he had
at first been able to discover.

| He chuckled quietly to himself after fin- |

| ishing a third reading, and muttered:
“TI think I understand Fred exactly.
|. “It would not break his heart if the boy

Now Captain Ernest Weizer was not a

| failed to go through.”

| popular man among. his brother officers,

and far less so was he among the cadets.
He had been dealt with rather severely
when a cadet himself, as regarded hazing,

and had graduated at the tail end of the |

| class with very few words of encourage-
ment.

But he had become an instructor at
West Point, and with a little brief au-
thority was determined to make himself
felt.

Just as the cadets had stampeded at his
| coming, he arrived upon the scene and be-

held Kit calmly surveying his wrecked
room, and an ugly look came into the offi-
| cer’s face as he surveyed the situation.

CHAPTER XXI.
UNDER ARREST.

ee . . :

| NLY47 ELL, sir, what does all this
rw \/o mean 2 demanded Captain
Weizer, in a tone he meant to

| «ae terrorize Kit, and with eyes that
blazed as he turned them upon the luck-
| less cadet.

“Tt means that something like a Kansas
cyclone struck my room, Captain Weizer,”
|}and Kit politely saluted.

“This -is not Kansas, sir, but West

| Point, and if you stay here much longer

| you will understand that when I question
am to be answered.”

| “Pardon me, Captain Weizer, I desire

/to answer youas bestI can. What would

| you know, sir?”

“What does all this mean?”

“T was having a little boxing match
with some visitors, sir.”
| “That is you were being hazed, or was

it a drunken orgie?”

“T do not drink, sir, nor were any of
| my visitors intoxicated.”

“Who were they, sir?”

“That question, Captain Weizer, I must
| decline to answer.”

“Ha! you disobey my orders, sir?”

“Tn this respect I must, sir.”

Weizer emntied grimly at this, for there
| was that about Kit which had convinced
| him he would not tell upon his comrades.
| He stepped into the room and regarded
| it with a wondering gaze.

There was hardly anything there that.
was not upset and the floor was stained
with black, blue, and red ink, while the
walls were also spotted badly.

Seeing the red ink he asked quickly:

“Have you killed any one here, Cadet

arey?”

“No, sin, it was not as bad as that,” and
Kit smiled.

“What does this blood mean on the floor
and wall?”

“Tt is no blood, sir.”

“What is it, then?”

“Red ink, I think, sir.”

“Report yourself under arrest, sir, and
at once, at the guard house,” was the next

 

order, and Captain Weizer felt that he
had done his duty for the night.
“He’ll be dismissed when the comman-

t \ | dant knows all about it, and I’ll write Fred
t the © his clique to come to his |

it happened quicker by far than he had
anticipated,” and Captain Weizer seemed
in a right good humor with himself,

And Kit?

Poor fellow his heart was full, for he

“That new man, Carey, turning the!

“He’s mopped up the floor with him,” |

Now “ Weizer” was none other than the |

ng I might break a rule by not doing | So Kit held the writhing cadet, while | felt sure that arrest would mean dismissal.

\ | Bradley daubed his face with the brush, |
to study, I wish to do my duty |
8S, and to leave here with honor |

Thus would end all of his ambitious
hopes.
| What would his good’ friend Colone
Crandall think, who held the secret of his
life?
What would Captain Dick Duluth think?

And what opinion would Kate Osmond

| have of him?
| His heart was full and he suffered a
grief as deep as that which had come to
him when he stood by the side of the
dying hermit of the Black Hills, and felt
| that he was to be left all alone in the
world.

He was told to leave his room in the
condition it then was, to appear as he was
himself, and he obeyed and _ reported
“under arrest.”

Like wild fire the news went through
the cadet corps the next morning, and

|
|
|
|
|
|
|

| list,” but it was surmised quickly among

several cadets were reported “on the sick |

| their comrades what the nature of their |

ailment was.

One had a black eye, another a cut lip, |
_ Ps | Shall I run away? What shall I do?”

while a third had not only an eye in

| going away, and is determinec

mourning and a lacerated lip, but also a |

| swollen nose and a face that could not be
gotten clean with brush and soap even,
and was as red as a boiled lobster under
the scrubbing.

It is needless to say that this last per-
sonage was Cadet Clarence Tarpley.

| The cadets after leaving the mess hall |

| gathered in groups and discussed the situ-
| ation.

Sly glances had been taken of Kit’s| h

y & | the sight of the forge and anvil? The re-
| sult would have been a poor blacksmith.
| He must realize that after you have at-

room, and.all agreed that there had been
a merry war there, indeed.
Then it got rumored about just how

matters were, and that Kit, a new-comer, |

|lamb under all jokes played upon him,
|had drawn the line at an indignity that
would wound his pride and his warning
| not being heeded he had simply played a

who had been as patient as Mary’s little |

T IALKS
OR OVS

BY M. QUAD.

NUMBER SIX.

Qo,

t ST-~\ ANIEL J., of Woods County, Ohio,
48) states his case thus:
A “My father is a farmer. I have

1&

<*> been brought upon the farm to
this age (18), but I don’t like the work,
and have no interest in it. My mind runs
to engineering, but father ope my

to make
me a farmer whether I like it or not.

In the first place, don’t run away. Once
in a great while the boy who leaves home
in this manner may fall into a better
home and have sufficient force of charac-
ter to withstand the temptations he will
be exposed to, but ninety-nine times in a
hundred he will be worse off.

Your father must be led to reason the
ase. Suppose his father had been a
blacksmith, and insisted that he learn
and work at the trade, though he hated

tained your majority you will have your
own way tomake. You will mayry, have

|a home of your own, and be compelled to

|game of football with Clarence Tarpley |

| and his clique.

Universally the situation was enjoyed,
|}as far as Tarpley and his men went; but
| & universal sympathy was felt for Kit.

| dant, men, and don’t squeal, then I move
| we go by classes and beg him off, for he
has had much severer provocation than

“Tf he stands fire before the comman- |

the most of us put on him, and Tarpley |

|pushed it too far,” said De Rassett, a
| cadet captain.

| “So say I, if he acts the man when
i threatened with dismissal, let’s espouse
his cause, for it’s a just one,” Cadet Lieu-
| tenant Taylor added.

“Old Weizer don’t like him, as a blind
man can see, and he’ll push him to the
wall, if he can,” remarked a third.

“If it is decided he must go, then Tar-
pley must speak out, or we'll drive him

| out of the academy.”

| “Oh, Jupiter! but didn’t he give it to

| Tarpley, for I saw the pow-wow from the
first blow.”

stand on your own responsibility. He
shouldn’t be a tyrant ana bind you to a
life distasteful to you. If you don’t like
farming you will never make a good
farmer. If you have a taste for engineer-
ing, or any other trade, you will be quite
certain to make more money at it than by
farming. That he may have done well on
a farm is no sign you would.

Every parent has a natural interest in
seeing a son make a start in life, but they
should not make the mistake of forcing
upon a boy an avocation which is distaste-
ful to him, and in which he can take no
interest. You must feel an enthusiasm
in whatever you do to doit well. The

| father who is wise will assist his boy to

}
|
|

follow out his own inclination in the mat-
ter of a trade or profession, instead of
ordering him to pursue this or that one,
as if nature made all tastes the same.

“C. F.,” of Halifax, writes as follows:

1. Do you think it advisable for a boy
sixteen years old, who only has a com-
mon school education, to aspire or try to
become a newspaper man?

2. If so, what way would you advise one

| to commence?

| “How was it, Clifford?” asked a number

of voices in chorus.

| “Why you see Tarpley told me what he

/had on hand, and I warned him that he |

| was posting the plebe too hard; but he
|said he knew when to let up, and when I

|}saw him in the scrimmage I thought so, |

| too, for he was only too willing to let go
| then, if he had only got the chance.
“Men, you don’t know what that fel-
' low is.

“He may be a border boy, a tenderfoot
| here in the East, and all that; but if he is
not a buzz saw in a scrimmage then I
never saw one.

“Not a blow did he get, either, and not

down from him.

motions and set him down on top of

| Seruggs who had just been rolled into a

corner to serve as a cushion for Bellows.
“And the room looked like a slaughter

something that wasn’t red ink on Tarp’s
nose. : ‘
“T tell you it was beautiful, as far as I

“He hit the red-ink holder one between |
the eyes and it lifted him in one time two |

pen from the red ink and a suspicion of |

|
lone of Parley. 5 gang escaped a knock | !

3, What pay would a boy command at
the offset, and how long would it take
him to become a good one if he was a
hard worker and did his best to please?

4, What do you think of my writing for
a would-be newspaper man?

If “C. F.” ever becomes a “newspaper

man,” he will look back to this letter and
realize that he asked some hard questions.
There is no reason why a boy sixteen
years old should not aspire to write for
the newspapers or to become a newspaper
man, but will his ambitions ever be re-
alized? To aspire is one thing, and to
realize is another. There are instances
where boys with a common school educa-
ion have become newspaper men, but
luck, accident, surroundings, cireum-
stances, force of character, and many other
things must be taken into account.

If “C. F.” has a strong leaning toward
the newspaper business, his best way
would be to secure a situation in some
country newspaper to learn the printer’s
trade. If he has talent for writing, the
editor will give him all encouragement.

| If he becomes a success in a literary point
| of view, he will have no trouble in attach-

saw, only I was cautious, for only yester- |

day Lone Star said to me that we all
looked so much alike that it was hard for
a new boy to tell us apart, and I had no
desire just then to be taken for Tarpley,
or any one of his clique, so there might
have been something I missed seeing.’

“And I hear that he told Weizer a Kan-
sas cyclone had struck his room,” laughed
Cadet Taylor.

“Yes, and any one but Weizer could

but he got mad.’

“Well, men, it will give a set back to
hazing, mark my words, and somebody
will get hurt. under the investigation:
but I hope it won’t be that boy, for he’s
all grit,” and Cadet Captain De Rassett
but voiced the wish of nearly all his com-
rades,

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_—__~+-0-—»__—_—_

The celebrated authors JAMES OTIS

and WILIIAM H. THOMES write ex-

clusively for Goop NEws.

 

have seen how appropriate was the simile, |

 

ing himself to a more! prominent publica-
tion.

“J. F.,” of Norwich, New York, states
his case thus:

“T am eighteen years of age. My parents
are Scandinavians, and thus I have ac-
quired the Danish, Norwegian, and Swed-
ish languages. I understand German par-
tially, and am_ studying French at school
at present. Being financially unable to
complete my studies as well as I wished
to, I have been advised to pursue a certain
business course at school as far as pos-
sible, and then enter into business. Do
you think the counsel desirable? What
business or occupation would you advise
me to follow?” :

You have left us in the dark as to the
aim you had in view in acquiring those
several languages and taking up various
studies, and we cannot answer your ques-
tion in a satisfactory manner. A young
man who can speak the English, French,
Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish lan-
guages might not find the last four of any
aid to him as a lawyer, doctor, editor,
broker, minister, architect, or artist, but

 

 

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£72

he might set up as a teacher, secure a
lace as translator, become an agent in
Hurope for some American house or. cor-

poration, or make use of his advantages in

many other ways. If you were to go into
business for yourself in certain locations
in the West settled by Danes, Swedes, and

Norwegians, you would have certain ad-

vantages in your favor, and the knowl-

edge of those languages would also help
you to secure employment at a salary.

"eo A. D.,” of Newark, Dakota, after

making some inquiries about stenography,

adds:

“T have plenty of land here in Dakota,
and a good start in farming, but do not
like the business. Would you advise me
to abandon farming and take up short-
hand asa means of makmg a living? I
shall attach great weight to your decision.”

In a former article we took up stenog-
raphy, in answer to several letters, and
probably disappointed many students. We
answer “S. A. D.” that the profession is
already overcrowded, and that the pay has
been largely reduced. It will take him at
least six months to perfect himself in any
system, and he must then run his own
chance of securing employment. ‘here is
hardly a college in the country which does
not include stenography in its course, and
short-hand writers are being graduated at
the rate of a score per week.

Probably not one in five of them will
ever earn enough at the business to pay
the cost of tuition. Between a good farm
and starting out to make a living at
stenography, “S. A. D.” had best think
seriously before making any change.

“A. C.E.,” of St. Thomas, Ontario, thus
indignantly reveals an outrage:

“In your answers to boys’ queries, will
you enlighten me on the following:

“T sent a manuscript to a leading East-
ern publishing house. MSS. was retained
about two weeks and then returned. The
title of the piece, together with author’s
name, had been nicely trimmed off with
the scissors. It is this last maneuver
which I cannot understand.

“Would like you to also give your ideas
as to best way of directing editor’s atten-
tion to your MSS.”

Accidents may happen in the office of
an Eastern publishing house as well as in
a Western factory. It was doubtless an
accident that brought about the decapita-
tion of your manuscript. As a rule, the
greatest care is exercised to preserve any
and every contribution from harm, As to
your second question, no special effort is
needed to attract attention to your con-
tributions. If you have written a sketch,
serial, or book which you desire to send
to. a newspaper or publishing house, mail
or express it in a secure manner, sending
stamps or money to have it returned in
case it is rejected. You can send a pri-
vate letter with the gage or by itself.
The manuscript will be read on its merits.
It may be returned because it is not up to
the standard, or because the house has a
surplus on hand. You must, of course,
take your chances on those points.

“J. A, E.” writes from Sunderland,
England, as follows:

“T have read with much interest your
“Short talks with the Boys,” and wish
you would say a word to the young men.
IT am one of them, about 30 years old,
earning £80 a year in a responsible situa-
tion, but without much prospect of its in-
crease or permanence, in a quiet provin-
cial town. I have saved £200 and am
strong, healthy, and unmarried. I havea
great notion of going to California or Aus-
tralia to “better myself” at, if possible,
some outdoor employment. Would I do
well to join the American army? I have
no trade but a good knowledge of busi-
ness? Can you advise me?”

It is quite probable that you might
land in California with your cash capital
of $1,000 and do far better than in your
present situation, but the only point on
which we venture any advice is in regard
to the army. It is the last place we
should advise any one, old or young, to
take. The pay is low, the service ardu-
ous, and the general idea is that a person
who can earn a living at anything else will
keep clear of the army in time of peace.

—_——___—_—___0-o————_———_

The Air we Breathe

@

S composed of one part of oxygen and

4 our parts nitrogen. The former sup-

orts life, the latter extinguishes it.

he more oxygen there is, the livelier,

the healthier, and the more joyful are we;

the more nitrogen, the more sleepy, and
stupid, and dull do we become.

_ But if all the air were oxygen, the first
lighted match would wrap the world in
instant flame; if all were nitrogen, the
next instant there would not be upon the
populated globe a single living creature
“ When oxygen was discovered by Priest-
ley, nearly eighty years ago, there was a
universal jubilation among doctors and
chemists. The argument was plausible
and seemed Pertectly convincing. “If oxy-
gen is the life and health of the atmos-
phere, as we have found out how to make
oxygen, we have only to increase the
quantity in the air we breathe, in order to

Ss

 

GooDp

wake up new life, to give health to the
diseased, and youth to the age.” But, on
trial, it was found that it made a man
a maniac or fool, and, if continued, a
corpse? Various other experiments have
been made to improve upon the handy
work of the all-wise Maker of the uni-
verse, but they have been successive fail-
ures, and thinking men have long since
come to the conclusion that as there can
be no improvement upon the cold water of
the first creation, in slaking thirst, so
there can no addition be made to pure air,
which will better answer its life-sustain-

ing purposes.
IRE,

—____~+-e-e_____

pout Ee cAMP

5 way
/ ey \e
eN
AGS:
ey
Ky ip

BY HARRY HORR.

- om Simeon

THE EIGHTH SPARK.

REMINISCENCES OF THE RAIL AS DONATED
BY BLOSSOM JOE AND TWO STRANGERS.

camp-fire’s gleam made a golden trail

on Shoshone's
=> wearily lounged on their robes and
blankets after their hard day’s hunt.

They were lost in meditation deep; de-
spondency seemed to preside over their
reveries. The cause of the general deject-
edness arose from the simple fact that
news had reached them of the determina-

e~ -
Ih was a beautiful evening, and the

tion of certain Eastern capitalists to build !

a railroad, starting from the Northern
Pacific and below the lower canon to
penetrate the National Park. With the
advent of the iron horse, members of the
circle knew full well that like the Moor,
their occupation would be gone. Geyser
George but echoed the thoughts of all
when he said:

“Tt’s all up with us, boys, just as soon
as the dang steam pack-trains come!
Why, the Americans will be rushing in
here to gawk at the sights, and other for-
eigners will rush from all parts of the
world, and the elk, sheep, blacktail, and
all the game will be either killed, or so
stampeded that buzzard couldn’t catch
the laziest one in the whole outfit. Then
prospecting will peter, for the country
will be overrun, and the best mines will
be stumbled on by greenhorns, sure as
you’re born! So, what will we do? We
can guide folks through the park for
a while, but that won’t last long, for
Uncle Sam is apt to make an appropria-
tion for roads some day, up here, and then
they will have their guide-boards so
plenty that a blind man couldn’t miss the
trail. I’m afraid, boys, we’ll have to pull
out for Alaska, or some place in that di-
rection.”

“Why not go to railroading when the
cars come?” suggested Rustling Tom.

“We'd be nice folks to go a railroading,
we would,” added Happy Adam. “Why,
there ain’t one in the crowd would know
a railroad when he saw one.”

“Just chaw a small corner off that last
remark,” said Blossom Joe, “for I dis-
tinctly remember running an engine in
old York State when it was quite young.
It was a the gayest masheen on the
road and was the fastest in the world.
‘Old 996’ was to be relied on every time,
I tell you, boys, she was a clipper. She
had nineteen feet driving-wheels and she
never hauled anything but palace cars. I
didn’t run her long before I was asked to
go a steamboating, or take a walk, or do
something outside of railroading on that
particular road. It was the superinten-
dent who gave me all these invitations.
I’ll tell you how it all came about. The
train was full of distinguished folks.
They were all from the Territories. There
were four hundred governors and nineteen
hundred Indian agents in the palace cars,
and one editor in the smoking-car. They
were not exactly full grown governors
and Indian agents, but they said they
would be just as soon as: they got to
Washington. The editor wasn’t going
any place or for anything in particular. He
was simply getting his money’s worth out
of a dead-head pass. He came back on
the same train. The governors and the
other fellows had to wait for their friends
and relatives to send money for them to
get back on, except those who were et
enough to get positions as porters an

bosom as the boys,

NEWS.

watchman in some of Uncle Sam’s big
buildings in Washington. But this ain’t
what I started in to tell. How I came to
be discharged was on account of the edi-
tor blowing about how fast he had ridden
on the rail down in Arkansas. He said it
seemed to him
miles an hour. Says I, ‘old man, you’re
in luck, sure, because I’m going to let old
996 streak it out at eighty miles an hour
or bust her combination.’ I told him he
was in luck because he was bald-headed,
and when I would get through with my

run that he would find in the palace outfit |

|more bald-headed governors and Indian
| agents in distress than he ever dreamed of
in his entire paste-pot career. I made the
run at the rate of eighty-five miles an
‘hour, and sure enough, the bald-headed
| would-be officials were there as I pre-
‘dicted. The brakemen made a big thing
selling their hair to an artist who made
| bed-ticks for fame and money. One of the
governors reported me by telegraph from
one of the stations for fast running. The
| superintendent then told me what I told
you, and I told him if I knew the old
snoozer had sent a dispatch I would have
let ‘old 996’ out and beat the wires all to
thunder. That editor will hang yet. I
‘found out afterward that he used to run a
aper in Arkansas before the war, and
yeing in a beautiful minority, one night
he was induced to take a swift ride on
the rail—but it was a three-cornered one
taken from an old-fashioned worm fence.
If there is a person I thoroughly detest it
is a liar.”

No comments were made, but as the
boys turned their faces from Blossom
Joe it was to be seen that his closing re-
mark found an echo in their respective
bosoms.

 

lies and Sierras. They were rigged out in
'eomplete buckskin suits and armed to the
teeth. It was more out of respect to them
that the circle frowned upon Blossom
| Joe’s extravagant lie.

Silence, as is usual with her, kept quiet |

until her rest was broken by one of the
inew-comers thus addressing his partner:
| “Pete, I should think as how you would
want to stop and see what the beers look
like. Never seed arty, did you?”

“Never seen keers? Why, boy, I was
capting of one when I was quite young,
wa
as being a No. 1 railroader capting, too.
Only trouble, I made the craft spin too
lively. Got discharged because I sailed
too fast. Last voyage I made jess tore
every sail off, knocked the promenade
deck down. stairs, busted two heavy
anchors, an’, they went a fluking right
bower and left, an’ the ace came near
going too, and the jibboom was knocked
clean out of the keer, I made ’er jump
that lively.”

“Sho, Pete, they don’t have sails; they
run by steam, they do. An’—an’ I’m sorry
I sprung this subject on you, for it almost
makes me cry thinking over my railroader
days, an’—an’ hate to speak afore a
strange crowd, when I‘m feeling like that,
for fear they’ll think I’m soft. You want
my ‘sperience? Wal, boys, jess- a little
fust that pops into my head. You see I
was a railroad pilot down in ole Kentuck,
an’ one day the boss railroad commodore,
says he, ‘Jake, they’re goin’ to put an’
extra style to-morrow on the opposition,
an’ I want you to beat them all holler
into Cairo.’

“Says I, ‘You hear me holler. Admiral,
I’ll break owners if I can’t obey orders.
An’ so all that night the fireman an’ me
sot up a-throwin’ on the coal an’ wood
out, an’ a-fillin’ in the masheen with lard
oil, bacon, pitch, an’ a few kegs of pow-
der, an’ several sticks of giant, to keep
the thing kind of moving along like occa-
sionally. We started two hours ahead of

eee

a4 laeli

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

daylight an’ one ahead of time, but the
smart oppositioner fellers rolled out the
same time. We kept even, snoot, an’

 

he went about seventy |

There were two strangers in camp who |!
represented themselves as having hunted |
‘and prospected since boyhood in the Rock- |

down in Jersey, an’ I war figured on |

scenes

'snoot, for the first hundred miles
| soon we shook ’em, an’ showed ouniy”
iplain. We war a-goin’ of it quiteP’

| like, an’ the fireman was jess apr a
lof the lard oil in, when the trail t f
an’ right thar, dead squar’ in front 0%)
was a twenty-six-thousand-foot mou
,a high ole foot-hill for sartin. ;

* ‘Jim,’ says I—Jim was the fire at
|‘Jim,’ says Tagen, ‘it’s sartin SUM I
if we keep headed for that moun’
| this grade.’ ‘So I perceive,’ says Ji
ihe quietly chucked in four ke; ‘
'an’ two of blasting an’ ten sticks ®
powder an’ they raised us just
over that mounting an’ we land
| harbor at Cairo twenty hours ahead ol
| We made a 600-mile run in 2 20®
'minutes, 23 seconds and a quartel
isee, I’m presact, ‘cause I was thal oa
‘held the watch on her. The compal) fy
|}me a rousin’ reception. ‘

“The brass band serenaded Me —g
|night for a hull year, an’ I had S07
‘eatin’ invites that I never bought #

worth of uncooked grub nor ruD
|for a single meal ticket. An’ the
‘the company made me take.
| member the hull on them, but they
on me quite a good-sized nine-Story a
‘furniture all through, an’ ev@
/room was a bar-room. ‘They also By
|four gold watches, a slashin’ forty
| power pianny, eighteen corner Jog
|dozen plug hats, seventy-el8?? 7s
|headed canes, one beautifully, @ in
toothpick, with two diamond.
point, seven hundred and 8
‘What did they give the
Nothing. They dismissed him the
sartin’ of his post an’ workin’ im ip
position. You see when Jim PW
powder he stood in the way 0 the
an’ consekently was thrown back
oppostion keers, an’ began help! B Hp \
like blazes, so’s to ketch up ™
See?”
At a signal from their chief the, °
arose to a man, and were thus ad
by Honest Ted: -. req’
“Gentlemen, your presence 1§ a
at a neck-tie party, to be give? ‘6
‘of our distinguished guest, Ja ip
dance will open out at the liar tre
three minutes. Forward, mare®, 4,
The last words Jake listened
ceeded from the  floor-manage
Jim, who thus articulated: of
“Pard, you overdid it. We are
what on the prevaricate ours
‘this be a warning to you i
We know that you have no
for three long weary months,
| your first trip to these or any pble
tains, they will think you are Bek
by Indians, but we will undece etl u
We will postal-card them to the € 2
you have taken a way-up positlo” |
air line. Ta, ta, Jacob.” velt!
And if the coyotes have not le
mound, or a blizzard carried off
stone, you can easily find the §P
Jake is still lying.

for

'

 

BOOKS FRY’

ax

y
=
~

OMMENCING with Goon NEN

June 12, 1890, we will prints,

on the first page for 12 9 pe A,

issues. The coupons wild ti
bered from 1 to 12, and by send fy is
set complete, we will send you ®™ 71g

They are carefully selected stories daph pr

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lithograph covers, fully illustrate’) poh ony
tain about 200 pages. They are ith
American copyright stories.

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Make Your Own Select? Raye

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THE YANKEE CHAMPION, by sylvanus “at 1G
THE GOLDEN EAGLE, by Sylvanus
THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO ABROAD,
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Robertson, M. D 4,

THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO’S SEAR
Robertson, M. D.

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GOLD-DUST DARRELL, by Burke BY @Waiits
BOB YOUNGER’S FATE, by Edwit Y yet.
THE REVENUE DETECTIVE, by poll tte
James.

AMERICAN MARQUIS, by nicky
ill.

THE

A MYSTERIOUS CASE, by K. Fu

VAN, THE GOVERNMENT pervect’
Sleuth.”

BRUCE ANGELO, THE CITY DETES
Sleuth.” ye

BRANT ADAMS, THE EMPEROR OF 2 hh
by “Old Sleuth.

vk
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Remember you get a copy of apy t

name in the above list, by cut} cb ia

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sending us the twelve coupons wa ge
publish in Goop News for twel¥

 
 

 

GOOD NEWS.

173

 

 

 

BY M. PHELPS DAWSON.

agian

4 i et to bed in his little nightgown,
dito

’ fay as he opened his only well eye:

for the jolly old Forth of July!”

S$ and eight fingers with lint were tied

S head Was a bump like an upside-dow cup,
ef thenlle Was distorted, his nose all awry,
wy” Joys of the glorious Fourth ot July.

yy Were
sihg
that © Vi eV he had lived in the powder and fun;
pmpany q Salute 00m of the cannon roared up to the sky,
4 Y0Ung America’s Fourth of July.

Ald yy
8 We y."ere glad all the pieces were there,
Care red and bound them with tenderest

fut
hi

) the e®
e. Can ha
+ they

the wreck came the words, with a sigh:
OW was only the Fourth of July!”

be STOW all together again, never fear,
Y to celebrate freedom next year ;

Heay 24
” 1 tale al his friends are most thankful there
Ckerlegs twelvemonth ’twixt Fourth of J uly.
ties hin g§00d-night on his powder-specked
a ant bruised hands softly down in their
1 tes. as sleep closed his one open
very day was the Fourth of July!”

—————~+- ee _____

SWIPES;

5j

He W OR,

ORST BOY IN THE WARD.

A By “FRANK,”
Uthor of “smart Aleck,” ete.

t o¥e

‘Stops —-+-—
U
Peottai arts commenced in No. 1.
of all News Agents. |

NUMBER ELEVEN.
D LINES FOR THE PROFESSOR.

RE oy;
sig duiet, thoughtful, serious expres-
Ore countenance which Swipes

Ih, , ton’s 4 he ambled into Mrs. Guffer-
he Tesidence made the lady think

One of the nicest and best-be-
Rare aie had ever seen. :
Parlor oe him with evident favor
. OF having been reached, she

Back numbers

. Your

ne No VOUng assistant your son, sir?”

of Wa Du replied the professor, “he is

ar iy Pil of mine. am a bachelor
?dam.” ;
Ar ri ” si

A piterton. Iam a widow,” sighed

ns Ow! is it possible?”

Y ten <a Gufferton has been dead
Can TS.

Protege, be! surely you jest!” cried

. In pretended amazement.

c lust have married very, very

at

° What he

ha” to Y a new-born pup would
stories hh Propet Racket.” a
nd in BAM Hy ots Gar S implied flattery “took”
reer 0”) cop ufferton, however. She was
tra all POF wii Very ugly, and was not used
rare hevtts, and she swallowed the
h® I - ent relish.
43a mere child,”

Vid
’ ‘ Qe .
Selection Notlish pimote
BG, Mngt &iggle.
have been. Ah, my dear

she said,
B.

y lv an us

i battered youngster there was in the

Slad; he had started abroad with the

 

8 12 calls fine work, I sup- |
ot Swipes, an expression of |
Wing upon his classic young |

“Oh, maybe this isn’t a soft snap,”
whispered Swipes, in the professor’s ear
almost loud enough for the lady to hear.

“Shut up!” returned the old man,
hoarsely. “Do you want to have us both
turned out of the house?”

Swipes only replied with a hurt look,
and for some time he remained silent,

waiting for the opportunity to work some |

new racket which he felt sure would come.

The dinner was an excellent one, and
there was plenty of wine. You may be
pretty sure that Professor Gallus did jus-
tice to everything. In a short time he
was in his most amiable mood, and enter-

all of which he appeared in the light of a
hero, of course.

“Yours has, indeed, been a most event-
ful life,” said Mrs. Gufferton, when he
gave her a chance to get in edgewise.

“Tt has, indeed, my dear lady, it has,
indeed,” returned the professor, helping
himself to another glass of wine. “Why,
when I was in Spain——”

“Excuse me, Mr. Livingstone,” inter-
rupted the widow, “but suppose we talk
about this railroad.”

“What railroad?” asked the old man,
who had quite forgotten the occasion of
his visit.

“Why, the railroad that is going to run
through my grounds.”

“Ah, yes. Well, what about it?”

“What about it? Now, Mr. Living-
stone, you know that it will ruin my
property, if the plan you suggest is car-
ried out.”

“T fear so, but what is to be done?”
asked the professor, with a tipsy smile.

“That rests with you.”

”

|has forced me to yield.
tained his hostess with tales of his alleged |
adventures in all parts of the world, in

 

“Tf you occupied that position should
you not object strongly to having a rail-
road run through your lawn?”

“TIT should,” replied the
promptly.

“Then you can ee my feelings.”

“TY can. Enough! I yield. The road
shall not pass through your lawn.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Livingstone.
And it will not come too near either, will
. 9”

old man,

“Not within half a mile.”
“You are so good!”
“It is your beauty, Mrs. Gufferton, that
My prejudices,
my sense of duty to my employers—all,
all melt and disappear before the sun-
shine of your smile as snow before the
rays of the noonday sun.”

“Oh, Mr. Livingstone !”

“IT mean it—every word of it, dearest
lady.”

And then the professor began making
love for all he was worth.

He had observed that his compliments

| had been received with favor, by his aged

companion, and it had occurred to him
that he had possibly struck a bonanza.

In. his mind’s eye he saw himself hus-
band of Mrs. Gufferton and master of this
almost palatial mansion.

The prize was worth working for, and
Professor Gallus just laid himself out to
win it. His attentions were evidently not
unacceptable to the widow; and when he
and Swipes were left alone in the parlor
for a few miuwntes after dinner, he whis-
pered enthusiastically in the youth’s ear:

“She’s mine, Swipes!”

“Who’s yours?”

“The widow.”

“Mrs. Gufferton?”

 

 

apie oF

7,

 

“a 2
af
iy,

ZAZA

 

 

Dy

 

 

 

WHEN PROFESSOR GALLUS LANDED ON

“Yes, madam, it does.”
“Whatever you recommend will be

done?”

“Most assuredly.”
“Cert,” added Swipes, “Mr. Livingstone

THE

LAWN HE HAD THE

“

es.”
“Great Scott! You’re in hard luck,
professor.”

“Shut up! Swipes, if I play my cards
well I can win her, and become master of

SASH WITH HIM.

“Ob, it would be no trouble at all,”
smiled Mrs. Gufferton.

“You are very kind to say so, but no,
it must not be. Besides, Iam anxious to
have a few moments private conversation
with you about this railroad business.”

“Very well, I will summon a servant to
conduct the young gentleman through the
grounds.”

The old lady touched a bell, and a darky
several shades blacker than the ace of
spades ambled in.

“Rainbow,” directed Mrs. Gufferton,
“this young gentleman desires to be
shown about the house and grounds.”

“Yes, missus.”

“You can accompany him and show him
the various points of interest.”

“All right, missus.”

Swipes followed the coon from the room,
wondering if he couldn’t scare up some
new racket.

And he did, with a vengeance, as it
will be our soul-harrowing duty to relate.

It did not take the youth long to get on
the right side of his companion.

“So your name is Rainbow, is it?” he
said, with a winning smile.

“Yes, sah, dat’s w’at dey calls me ’round
dese parts,” grinned the darky.

“Tt’s a mighty lovely name. I suppose
you have a rather soft snap here?”

“Sah?”

“T mean you have an easy job.”

“Well, tol’able, sah.”

“Nice house and grounds,”

“Yeu san”?

“And I suppose Mrs. Gufferton is a
pretty easy woman to get along with?”

“ *Deed she am not, Sah,” answered Rain-
bow, with animation. “She has got de
debbil’s own temper, sah, ‘deed she hab.”
| “J should not have thought it.”
| “She doan’ show it much w’en dere’s

comp’ny round, sah, but she has got it all
de same. I’s sorry fer de cap’n.”

“What captain?” asked Swipes.

“W’y Cap’n Gunn, de man w’at she is
a-goin’ ter marry.”

“Great Scott!” exclaimed the youth, “is
anyone going to marry her?”

“De cap’n is ef her brudder doan’ come
home an’ kill him fust.”

“Oh, Mrs. Gufferton has a brother, has
she?”

“Yes, sah. I reck’n you ain’t much ac-
quainted wid de fambly.”

They had by this time reached the stable
and were standing in the doorway.

“T never heard of any of them until to-
day,” said Swipes.

“Am dat so, sah?”

| “Yes. What seems to be-the matter
with Mrs. Gutferton’s brother? Does he
make a practice of going round and slay-
ing people?”
| “No, sah, but he doan’ want Mis’ Guf-
| ferton fer ter marry ag’in.”
| “Why not?’

“’Cause den he’d nebber get none ob her

' money,” replied the loquacious moke, with
a knowing wink.

| “Oh, I see. Well, where is the brother
| now? why don’t he kill the captain, if he
| wants to?”

| “He am trabelin’, sah. He am been
gone "bout fo’ mounfs.”

“And during his absence this Captain
Gunn has been shining up to the old
lady?”

“Dat’s it, sah. Massa Rusher—dat’s
| Mis’ Gufferton’s brudder—has heard about
de goin’s on, an’ he hab written to ber to
say. dat he will knock de life out 0’ de
cap’n w’en he gits back. Dere’ll be
trubble den, shuah, sah.”

“T should imagine so, if Mr. Rusher is a
man of his word. But how do you happen
to know all this, Rainbow?”

“T’s overheard de ole lady tell her maid.

 

x

=e z
e +:

STS EE SET

os aoe

De cap’n’s keepin’ out o’ de way lately
*cause Massa Rusher am ’spected back
most any day.”

“The captain isn’t anxious for a fight,
eh?”

“No, sah, he am not one o’ de fightin’
kind.”

“Well, there’ll probably be gore shed
when they meet.”

“Dere will if Massa Rusher happens to
know de cap’n. But dey hab nebber met.”

“Oh, they’ve never met, eh?”

“No, sah. By jimminy, sah, here he am
now!” cried the coon, excitedly, pointing
to astout red-faced man, who was _ pro-
ceeding up the graveled walk that led to
the house.

“Who is it? the captain?” asked Swipes.

“No, Massa Rusher.”

“The brother?”

“Yes, sah.”

Then the spirit of mischief that always

ossessed Swipes suggested a new snap to
fin. and he lost not a moment in carry-
ing his scheme into effect.

“Rainbow,” he said, hurriedly, “remain
here.”

“Whar yo’ gwine, sah?”

I am going to speak to Mr. Rusher.”

“Wha’ fer, sah?”

“There is no time for explanation. You
will see in a few minutes.”

And he did.

Hurrying up to Mr. Rusher, he placed
his hand on his arm, saying:

“A word with you, sir.”

can make the railroad folks do anything
he likes. But that track has got to run
through your lawn and that settles it.”

“No, it does not settle it, either,”
stormed the old prea “Who is en-
gineering this job, you or I, Swipes—I
mean Rudolph?”

“You are.”

“Well, I should say I was.”

“And you think,” inquired Mrs, Guffer-
ton eagerly, “that you will be able to
change its course?”

“T do not know,” said the old man,
meditatively, “I do not see my way clear
to do so.”

“Not to oblige a lady?” asked the
widow, insinuatingly, with what she in-
tended to be a fascinating smile, but
which really looked like a bad attack of
St. Vitus’ dance.

“T would do much to oblige a lady, es-
pecially one so young and fascinating as
eee: said the professor, “but duty is

uty.”

“Take another glass of wine, Mr. Liv-
ingstone,” said Mrs. Gufferton.

“Thank you, I don’t care if I do.”

“Tt’s about time the professor got senti-
mental and began to make love to the old
girl,” mused Swipes.

“Picture yourself as proprietor of this
establishment,” continued the widow.

“Ah, would that I were!” interposed |
Professor Gallus, rolling his eyes.

Mrs. Gufferton tried so hard to blush
that she nearly had a fit, Then she said:

this estate.”

“Think so?”

“T know so. Have you not observed
with what marked favor she receives my
attentions? Did you not see the smile she
bestowed upon me as she left the room?”
“Was that a smile? I thought she had
pain.”

“That is enough, Swipes.”

“It was more than enough for me.”

“Do not’ trifle. Now, Swipes, I want
you to leave me alone with Mrs. Guffer-
ton. I can speak much more freely in
your absence. You know the old proverb
about two being company and three a
crowd?”

“Yes, professor, but where shall I go?”

“Hush! here comes the widow. I will
arrange all, Just take the hint I give you
and all will be well.”

Mrs. Gufferton re-entered the room.

“My dear madam,” began the professor,
“my young friend here informs me that he
has a great desire to take a stroll through

your grounds.”
a

:

ofl el lite yours must, indeed, be a
yanus \ ii e!

Da,

|

”

: laude Livingstone,”

W Ssor, | ring

4, 9 wi Wel r, bowing.

SEARCH: | 04 9%, 2 appreciate the feelings
ee}? 1

. 4ivingstone |”
. been one myself— -
t. murray rtang® ba one myself+I mean I
s".

: a
chelor so long, that I can

fy inte” lonely you must be.”
wi i} "as bor, Posed Swipes, “Mr. Living-
ny) Hig t a bachelor. It runs in his
he Tears piher was a bachelor for
Wels, G ut you have not asked my
hy, whaviterton.”
the “tis your name, my boy?” in-
hay, Widow, with a smile that
et rade a river turn out of its
«oe OF ph Out of the way.
, Nie ] ;. -Amierkase.”
tame,” commented the lady,
You Or Gallus frowned fiercely
at he” and warned him in pan-
EDers vould give the whole snap
Swi isted in his reckless course.
a Woorie did not want to lose his
8 that ed up” for a time, merely
the name was the best one
Thay and adding that he was so
“Offica Could eat all the “pi” ina
Thi ready,” said Mrs. Gufferton,
S way, please.”
ducted them to an elabor-
or nings-room. which. ad-

ipa Se

a gegen

LD, DY

rke pret i
‘dwin & (i
by polit?

CMS RT POS OS I

Sia

Se
SETS

“Indeed?” caroled Mrs.
“Well, he is quite welcome to do so.
will conduct him myself.”

But of course this did not suit the old
man at all.

“Oh, he could not think of putting you
to so much trouble—could you, Rudolph?”
he hastened to add, at the same time
winking vigorously at Swipes.

“No, indeed,” said the youth, “I couldn’t
think of it for a moment,”

 

 

 

 
 
   
 

NRT rutin ee

  
 
  
    
 
  
 
 
 

 
   
 
 
 
     
  
   

CGoOoD

 

174

“Who the mischief are you?” demanded
the astonished old man.

“T am Duval, the boy detective.’

“You a detective?”

“Tees, SLE:

“Well, what do you want with me?” _

“IT am waiting to arrest aman who is
inside Mrs. Gufferton’s house.”

“The duse you are?”

*Yes, sir.”

“And who is the man?”

“One Captain Gunn.”

“That fellow in my
roared the old man.

“Yes, he is in the parlor with Mrs.
Gufferton at this moment.”

“Well, why don’t you go in and arrest
him?”

“T don’t want to make a scene in the
house, so I am waiting for him to come
out.”

“Very thoughtful of you. Well,
won’t have to wait long.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“IT mean that I'll fire him out in such
quick time that he won’t know what hit
him.”

“A good idea, sir. It is outrageous for
aman of his stamp to dare to pay atten-
tions to a lady like Mrs. Gufferton.”

“T should say so. Well, he will never
darken her doors again.”

“IT hope not, sir. Well, you fire him
out, and I’ll take care of him after that.”

“Can you manage the ruffian?”

“Oh, yes, I possess Herculean strength,
although I don’t look it.”

“Well, you’ll have a chance to use it on
him in a mighty short time.”

Then the old man sailed up to the house,
so mad that he could scarcely walk.

“Wha’ de matter wid Massa Rusher,
sah?” inquired Rainbow, waltzing up.

“Just wait a minute and you'll see,”
said Swipes, placidly.

They did not have to wait long, for in
about thirty seconds Professor Gallus was

ropelled through one of the parlor win-
lows with as much force as if he had been
fired froma cannon.

And the worst of it was that the impul-
sive Mr. Rusher had not stopped to open
the window, and when the professor landed
on the lawn be had the sash with him.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

—___+- 0» —___——-

sister’s house?”

you

CLASS SONG.
» j
Classmates, now these scenes are ended,
And our days in school are 0’er,
Come und join our parting chorus,
For the like we sing no more,
Here, as in Truth’s giorious army,
We've been drilling well and long,
Now we seek our line of battle,
Where the Right contends with Wrong.

When we with the strife grow weary,
Faint with toil or weak with pain,

And we long with tender yearning,
For these cherished days again,

Oft will memory lift the shadows
That becioud our pathway O’er,

And restore these cheerful faces,
As they seemed in days of yore.

Leave we now the leafy pathway,
For the broad, untried highway
May our course be steady upward,
Krom the place we hold to-day:
“Onward to the Gaol!” our motto,
May it lead us in the right.
As we join a grander army,
As we fight a sterner tight,

+> 0m -

ON LAND AND SEA:

California in the Years 1843’, 44 and “45,

By WILLIAM H. THOMES, |
Author of «‘The Gold-Hunters of Australia,” ‘The |
Bushrangers,” ‘“The Gold-Hunters in Europe,” |
“Life in the East Indies,” ‘‘A Slaver'’s Adven-
tures,” “Running the Blockade,” “A Whale-
man’s Adventures,’ ‘The Belle of Australia,” |
etc., |

>

 

+

(“ON LAND AND. SEA” was commenced in No. 3. |
3ack numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. } |

CHAPTER IV.—(Continued.)

 

   

AHE next Sunday the larboard watch
ae was allowed to go on liberty, and |
{\ all were cautioned not to get drunk, |
wa and to come off at sundown, under |
the most direful pains and penalties.

As it was a saint’s day there were great
gee ae: on land to celebrate it ina
yecoming manner. St. Anthony, or St.
Peter,
been.

 

Base Ball Granks, Ahoy!

IN CASH PRIZES TO BE

GIVEN AWAY.

——_e——-.

opose giving away $100 in
money to the one who guesses the
order in which the National Leaque
and Players’ League clubs will
finish the season of 1890.

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

National League—Boston, Brooklyn, Chi-
cago, Cincinnati,
Philadelphia, Pittsburgh.

The following shows the order in which
the Nutional League ended the season of 1889:
1. New York....:.. 5. Pittsburgh.......
Bs HOMO «= caves. 6. Cleveland. .......
Be CHIGAOe. «is. clea 7. Indianapolis .....
4, Philadelphia..... | 8. Washington..... .

 

 

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

The prizes are intended for the readers of
Goop News only, and guesses sent unaccom-
panied by the certificate cannot be recognized as
competitors.

The prizes will be divided as follows :—
$35 for the first correct guess received of the
National League, and $35 for the first cor-
rect guess reccived of the Players’ Leaque; $15
to the second correct guesses of each of the
Leagues, making a total of $100. By this
arrangement you have four chances to win a
prize. There is also nothing to prevent
one person from winning the two capital
Pees You can guess as many times as you

ave certificates.
sx Bane onan got to win, and why not you?
‘ your guesses on one side of
paper only. Write the National League on
one slip of paper and the Players’ fe Z ‘
op ore ; 7 the date you mail it dae
emember the only ition is
certificate found on the fete on =
Poy every guess. ee Sa
1e game wi i , :
antes" ai aie ae by the * ‘official
g ayers League and National
eague.

Competition will close September 1st
1890. Guesses mailed after September lst
will not be counted,

on

  

Cleveland, New York, |

was to be honored, and we had

told that there was to be a bull-
fight, and that a party of caballeros were |
‘out near the Mission Carmel, hunting for |
grizzly bears, to bait the bulls, and afford
| the inhabitants the usual amount of in-
nocent amusement to which they had been
accustomed all their lives, whenever a
fete day was on the calendar, and_ they
came very often in that country, in old
times.

Lewey was just wild to get on shore,
and, so particular was he that no black
mark should appear against his name, he
leven gave the galley a wide berth, for |
‘fear the temptation would be too much |
for his inclinations, and he might get |
caught, and kept on board as punishment.

On Sunday morning, as soon as the
decks were washed down, the brass work
‘cleaned, and the ship put in tip-top con-
dition for the day, the mate went for-
ward, and told his watch to get ready for
going on shore for liberty. Then there
was the usual scrubbing and cleaning,
and new clothes were got out, and eac
| man received two silver dollars to pay for
‘his enjoyment. It was not a large sum,
but Old Cook had most of it before sun-
down, as a matter of course.

We boys were each given the munificent

donation of two reals, which made us feel
like bloated bond-holders of the present
day, but, as we had picked up some money
;during the week, and I had a little for-
‘tune, in the shape of nearly a hundred
|dollars, to draw on, we did not grumble,
! for our whole thoughts were centered on
ithe fun we were to have, and the liberty
we were to enjoy.

We dispatched our breakfast in a hurry,
and dressed. I had a little better ward-
robe than lLewey, and, among other
articles, six pairs of very nice white cot-
ton stockings. As the French boy looked
at them with longing eyes I gave hima
pair, to his intense delight. We did not
dare to dress as well as we could have
done, for fear our shipmates would think
we were putting on airs, so all the boys
in the watch contented themselves with
blue shirts, silk handkerchiefs around
their necks, blue trousers, and very neat,
low shoes, well calculated to. show to ad-
vantage our clean white stockings. On
our heads we wore sennit hats, with
broad ribbons, and Admittance on them
in gold letters, in humble imitation of the
man-of-wars’ men.

At ten o’clock we passed over the side,
and were pulled ashore in. the pinnace,
and the last words Mr. Prentice said to
us, in a tone of voice that was well calcu-
lated to make us feel pleasant and com-
fortable were:

“If you boys get into any mischief I’ll
skin you alive when you come on board,”
and then he grinned, as if he really be-
lieved his warning was effectual.

As soon as the boat touched the beach

 

 

 

| customary in the country.

land said:

‘summoning the faithful to prayers.

NEWS.

 

 

could see that preparations had been made |
for a magnificent Sunday demonstration. |
The main street was full of Indians,
dressed with long hair, and not mu@h else; |
elegant and graceful-looking caballeros |
were dashing up and down on spirited
horses, giving the numerous dogs no peace
or rest, while from the plaza came the |
ding of bells, summoning the good people |
to prayers, as a slight relish for the feast |
that was to come afterward.

“Hullo, boys,” shouted Old Cook, as we
passd his pulperia, and the seamen could
not withstand his cordial salutation. |
“Come in, lads, and see me for a while.” |

They hesitated for a moment only, for
they had heard that Cook’s aguardiente,
at a real a glass, had more fight in it than |
all the rest in town, and that it could |
burn the throat and stomach quicker than |
any other brand. They went in, and |
anchored, but Lewey, Tom, Davy,

and |
myself kept on, after declining an invita- |
tion to take a glass with the rest, just to |
set us up for the day.

All around the plaza were groups of In- |
dians, squatting on the ground, and gam.- |
bling with sticks. We stopped, and |
watched the game with some curiosity, |
but could not make head or tail of it. One |
buck would take a number of short sticks
in his hands, manipulate them rapidly
back and forth, before and behind, and at |
the same time utter grunts like this:

“Ugh! ugh! ugh! ugher!”

Then he would stop, and some one
pointed with his hand, and the manipu-
lator showed the sticks, and he had lost |
or won, I could not tell which, but there |
was always a shout, and a whole ava- |
lanche of howls. I should have enjoyed |
seeing more of the game very much, and |
learning what it was all about, but |
Lewey, in his usual quiet way, drew four |
fire-crackers from his pocket (he had a
dozen bunches in his chest, on board, for he
was fond of fire-works, or feu d’ artifice,
as he called them in his French tongue),
lighted all by the aid of a cigarette, and
threw the smoking emblems of Chinese
mischief under the haunches of the big-
gest and fattest buck of the party.

There was a cracking discharge, a loud
yell, and one Indian jumped into the air
as though shot out of a cannon, and, clap-
ping his hands on his side, bounded over
1is companions, and passed out of sight,
around the corner of an adobe house. —

The others answered the yell, and scat-
tered in all directions. They thought
that a new revolution had broken out, and
that the soldiers were impressing the In-
dians for the purpose of serving in the
army, and doing all the fighting, as was

I should have rebuked Lewey, but I
could not just then, as I wanted some of
the crackers, so he shared them with me,

“Did you see him jump? Oh, my good-
ness, I dinks I dies laughin’.” :

We left the vicinity as rapidly as pos-
sible, and then found that we were near
the chapel, in front of which were six In-
dians, all pulling at the raw-hidg ropes
connected with the bell-clappers, and
We
went in, removed our hats very reverenti-
ally, and saw some old women and men
on their knees, praying, but, as there were
no pretty girls present, we did not care to
remain.

As we left the chapel the Indians gave
a stiff peal, as though making one last,
frantic effort to get the people to turn
out, and come to church. All of a sudden
the fellows ceased, as if by common con-
sent, squatted on the ground, and com-
menced gambling with sticks, and their
shouts were mingled with the chants of
the priest. After a refreshing game the
Indians dropped their sticks, jumped_ to
their feet, and rang out such a peal that
even the dogs howled in chorus at being
awakened.

We wandered along, and came to Mr.
Larkin’s house, and saw him and the old
man sitting on the piazza, having a com-
fortable smoke, and talking over trade,
hides, and tallow.

Mr. Larkin beckoned us to come toward
him, while the captain surveyed us with
pride, proud to think that he had three
such noble, nice-looking boys under his
command. Of course we did not count
Davy as one of us, for he was an ordinary
seaman, and not a boy, being over twenty-
one years of age. At least we thought the
captain had some such reflections, for he
said, as we approached the piazza:

“If you boys get into any scrapes I'll
skin you alive to-morrow.”

The very words Mr. Prentice had used
when we left the ship, showing that one
of them must have plagiarized, and we
never knew which was entitled to the
original remark. It should have been
copyrighted, for we heard it often enough
during the voyage.

“Oh, let the boys alone,” said Mr. Lar-
kin, with a pleasant smile. “I’m sure
they are good, honest boys, and mean_ to
enjoy themselves on this their liberty day
on shore.”

“You does not know dem like me,” was

| you

| more offered to give us an e

ir

litas. All the Mexicans greete ;
lantly, and invited us to enya
houses, but we did not have time

“Dey is in mischief

  

“Oh, they are nice lads, and an hom
any ship,” Mr. Larkin said. “ Now,
when you get hungry at twelve 0 clot
so, come here, and I’ll give you ee
frijoles and bread. My cook will

   
 
     
    
  

We thanked the kind-hearted
man, and then roamed around the! ,
Mr. Cushing and a party of midshit
rode by on horse-back, ‘and Lewe@
xhibitia®
the power of fire-crackers, by DUM
couple under Cushing’s horse, 0
the animal would not run away
break the young fellow’s neck.

But I coaxed my chum not to do 8"
it might be the means of injurine
horse. Beside, the midshipme!
numerous and stronger than ow
easons which convinced him tha
advisable to take my advice, all
his fun for the time being. ‘

In front of the poorer houses wid
families seated; enjoying the del”
fragrance of the air, for the hills |
covered with green grass, and the Vf
filled with wild flowers, hundred @
ent varieties being seen within
of an acre, and the pine-trees WO™ ay
ous with their balsams. The 8U® ?
down warm and bright, and thes
seemed a paradise to me the)
thought I should like to live ey
ever, and do nothing but ride OF
back, and dance with the pretty

 
 
   
   

 

    
   

2

    
  
  
  
 
  
    
   
  
   
  
  

    
     
 
 

   

  
  
  
 

a=
Ss

 
   

    

 
  
  

cept every invitation. ;

At last we heard the twang!
guitar, not a very musical one;
the notes of a woman, a shrill;
like voice, not sweet or soft,
entered the house where she w@
and saw a fat, oily, frowzy fema@ i

 

ng

      
  
    
 

dilapidated guitar in her laps wp
was strumming in a languis ing pW
and howling, with eyes rolling

 
 

the words: :
“Que se yo, que se yo, que se J?
Caro amor, caro amor.”
Which in English meant, “HO™
know, dear love?” b
We thought she was old _en0tf
understand all of its mysteries iy
enough, but we did not say 80, or
ped our hands, and murmured i §
tones the simple word: ef J

“Bueno!” (good), and the tend
thing stopped singing, and sal
were good and polite boys, a0
liked us very much, but we cou
|persuaded to remain and hear
song, although her husband aske
do so, and the lady seconded
with a sentimental glance t matt
have melted the heart of an old a
| man-of-war’s man, had he beet Pie
In the next house that was on
found a guitar and harp in full “
a group of old women ranged a 4
room. The floor was of eart®s, g
hard, and swept clear of litter, per Je
floor were half a dozen young Vda
|joying a fandango, the nationa ot
the country. The girls di
about very lively, but shuffled
and held their arms down at
in a stiff and constrained manB i
not look at their partners at
men made amends for the coldn@s ah
women, and cavorted all aroun sj *
and struck some very gracelu rt)
as they advanced and retreate ¢he
pelled, and again encouraged, void |
girls, while every moment the” ifef
would lift their hands, and clap of
gether, and shout out, at the
voices:

“Bueno, bueno!” J:4

We joined in the ery, and als tp
our hands with the rest, and tha” 40
them, for two young girls C8" we
Lewey and myself, and, before oy
aware of their intention,
snatched the hats from our,
them on their heads, and retil
other end of the room. The? “a
at the challenge, for it was 0 age:
to waltz, as near as we could J¥ Hi 4

“By gracious, I goes for vom" 100
said the impetuous Lewey, and
other laughing girl. area™

The musicians struck up @ j
Spanish waltz, and I put my % ell: |
the waist of a flashing, black-« ied
haired little girl, and she ¢™
me, and murmured in my eats
began to sway:

“Mas fuerte, muchacho,”
of our modern belles, whe? i
does not hold her tight enous) jcaty
her ideas of what is proper = my

I put on the pressure, 4? of he
went, to the intense delight bat
ladies, for it is quite robable of
had never seen an Americ@? “gov
boy waltz before. I had takeMat} a
sons when I little suspected t
ever exhibit my best steps t
of Mexican men and Ww
Lewey learned to waltz I
until some months afterwar@s

vealed his history, and y salty

 
    
  
   
      
   
  
   

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on

  
    
 
    
   
   
 

  
  
 

     

       
  
 
  
  

 

did, of
h mn
rai)

>

 
 
  

 
 
 

 
 
 

born in affluence, and ha

 

 

 

 

we jumped on shore, and walked toward

the town, and even at that early hour we!

the captain’s answer.
all de time,”

that he was no ordinary 8%
ye

travel and adventure, Now

HERES Ee

thell a

p a (jt

.

oO ;

    

HE a tg i

  

r
fing,
  

Si Feta ge en patina age Sc

 

  

 

‘

s he Gropped our Charming
; Not y

id .
( F intent

Hd nit Party

1 dn
f faca” 8nd had a guilty look on his flushed

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

GOOD NEWS.

175

 

te

‘Miral in the service of the French Repub-
Ic, and during the Prussian war did most
excellent duty on land, even if his fleet
remained inactive on the water. He has
& title to his name, and is not ashamed to
Use it, if he did sail in the American mer-
chant marine when young, for there is no
Part of his life that he looks back to with
More pleasure than his California experi-
ence. The Count de G—— has no cause to
fee] degraded by his career, except when
€ refused to listen to my advice, and to
be ose by me in all matters that re-
lated to his good welfare.
Now I know that my readers will say
that I am romancing, and that such a
thing as a young and noble-born French
OY serving as a sailor on an American
Vessel could not have taken place, but is it
More improbable than the simple fact that
the 17th of July, 1879, just thirty-six
Years from the time I was carrying hides
M my head at San Diego, the nephew of
One of the owners was married to my only
w“ghter? and at the wedding were Cap-
in Peterson and his wife, the same dark-
fyed lady he used to sigh for when cap-
4 of the Admittance, now grown to be
&handsome and stately matron, very tol-
ffant of her husband’s yarns and tobacco
Smoke, and, at that same wedding, the
ee put his hand on my shoulder, and
told the assembled guests, to my modest
Eaprise and delight:
his gentleman was with me as a boy
the coast of California, and I want to
th this, to prevent any misapprehension,
at he was the best lad I ever had with
me, Mm any part of the world; and now let
4S drink fo the bride.”
as, 1 fear that the captain was ro-
Mancing, or that the champagne had
faused his memory to become a little de-
ctive, for I would have sworn that I did
= him some trouble and anxiety when
€Sailed together, many years ago.
th OW one romance is more singular than
-© Other, and I can vouch as to the wed-
thi » and also regarding Lewey, for in
IS biography I confine myself.to facts,
the hot fiction. It will be noticed that
h Captain’s English has improved, for
and 4S now forgotten his mother-tongue,
ah Speaks as well as a native born. But
br “tve always felt a little sorry that he
4lsed me so earnestly in the presence of
Reyeeny: for it made me very vain for
hee Tal weeks, and more than once has it
¥ 1 intimated to me that if I was so good
shorn} I was a boy, it is a great pity that I
Use] d have outgrown itasa man. It is
€ss to mention the one who speaks so
do astically, because I am married, and
ot wish any discussion on the subject.
Mex: all this has nothing to do with the
ana .22 half-breed girls, whom Lewey
of th Were waltzing with, little thinking
as Sg future, or caring about it, as long
com © were enjoying ourselves, and in the
Pany of young girls, and very hand-
© they seemed in our eyes, even if they
Te stockingless, and had only light
Ppers on, just large enough to hold two
thei} and how. they could keep them on
whi feet, and waltz, was a mystery
no savant has endeavored to ex-
- Even the most famous of scientific
it w have avoided the subject, as though
The too complicated for investigation.
Wear: girls were not elaborately dressed,
Which? but two garments, the chief of
Waist was a skirt, descending from the
arm as far as the ankles, The upper
Nth ent was without sleeves, and cut low
neck. How we did enjoy that waltz!
tig, and Simple Davy caught the infec-
ithe spirit. They threw off their
dashed into the open space, and
The: enced a double shuffle. Then all the
adi JOined in the shouts which the old
W. \ uttered, and the clapping of hands
Ion, OMething to be remembered for many
w 4ys. Round and round we whirled,
Mil Wwe toe ‘. . . :
Rani’ Wore brought up all standing by
“Za harsh voice at the door saying:
dis) °Uu, boys, jist valk yourselves out of
Vas I should be ashamed of myself if I
bo. oy, to do such dings, I sends you
of q ard de ship if. you does not keep out
thers °° Places, and sich company,” and
awe) Stood Captain Peterson, with an
thin, look of disgust on his face, exam-
us from the doorway.
in ie Wished the old man miles away, or
Sto, 2& Comfortable warm place, and then
9 oy the waltz, as we could not dis-
taj, O'ders, but we wondered how the cap-
at Would like it had he been interrupted
in Calin’: and they were very frequent
ornia,

Comm,

little part-
hand walked out of the building, but
the ntil I had slipped into the hands of
the Young ladies two four-real pieces, and

. erro them with many thanks,
0

Xpress invitations to come again as
Msgs We could. At the same time they
tf ed the captain to a place not worth
Oning just at this moment, for his
rence in our pleasures.
. Walked along a short distance, the

ta
h Mls leading the way, when suddenly I
aay

4ewey. He had dropped behind
purpose, and, when he regained

he was out of breath with run-

Some

“Where have you been?” I asked.

“Oh, no vere, not much,” he answered,
and then I happened to glance at his feet,
and saw that he was stockingless. The

pulled off the white socks which I had
given him in the morning, and presented
them to the girl he had danced with. He
looked a little abashed as soon as he saw
that I had made the discovery of his gen-
erosity, but he murmured, in his usual
way, and in bad English:

“T no help it. She ’em vant berry much,
and she dance so booful, and it long time
’fore I had a valse like dat. Ah, mon
ami, you me pardon, vill you not?”

“Certainly, Lewey,” and I had half a
mind to run back, and give my partner
my stockings, also. But then, I paid her
for her trouble in the dance. “You shall
have another pair from my chest as soon
as we get on board.”

“Ah, merci, mon bon ami,” the lad said.
Then he made a face at the captain’s hat,
so ludicrous that we all roared with
laughter, and the old man turned around,
and wanted to know what little game we
were up to? Lewey pointed to a drunken
Indian, who was rolling in the street, and
yelling himself hoarse, as the cause of our
mirth, but it was the captain’s white hat
the noble beaver, in which he took so
much pride, that excited Lewey’s sudden
mirth. As it was a fete day the captain
had mounted it in honor of the occasion,
to the intense surprise of the Mexicans
and Indians.

As it was now twelve o’clock, we felt
as hungry as boys with good appetites
usually feel at that hour of the day, and
recollected Mr. Larkin’s invitation to
dinner. As the captain was going to the
merchant’s house, we all followed in his
wake, and refused the importunities of
men and women to enter their humble
abodes, and see what they were like. We
passed Mr. Prentice, who was wandering
about in a disconsolate manner, not good
enough for the merchants, and not equal
to the captains in position. Chief mates
did not, as a general thing, enjoy them-
selves on shore. They could not associate
with the masters of vessels, and would
not mix with the men, at the grog shops,
and there was no chance for amusement
anywhere else, so, as a general thing, the
first officers of ships were glad enough to
return on board, and curse California to
the other mates, when they met.

When we arrived at Mr. Larkin’s that
gentleman told us to go into the kitchen,
and his cooks would give us something to
eat, and they did. Wehad frijoles; the
best bean that ever grew, it seems to me
at this later date, tortillas, bread, real
soft-tack, and a bottle of native wine, a/|
little better than Cook’s, but to its influ- |
ence we must attribute all of our mis-
deeds that afternoon, and they were many,
when we think of them at this late day.

No one could have ventured to predict
at this time that California would, under
the careful cultivation of Germans and
Americans, raise enough grapes to manu-
facture a sufficient quantity of wine and
brandy to supply the whole of the United
States, and part of Europe. Grapes, in
843, were cultivated at Santa Barbara,
and at Pueblo Los Angeles, but there was
not much science or patience devoted to
the vines, and irrigation was almost un-
known. It is said that the wines of Cali-

bad boy had hurried back to the house, }

 

fornia, at the present day, equal the best

were harsh, and far from palatable, and
on that account Mr. Larkin made a mis-
take in giving us a bottle of wine with
our dinner, for we were not accustomed to

we should not have thought of at other
times. He meant all for the best, but dis-
covered his mistake before the close of the
afternoon.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

SECURES

GOOD NEWS For 3 MONTHS

AND THE

 

 

The ball is manufactured by Spatpina
| Bros., and is the same as used by the pro-
fessional clubs. We not only send you for
| THREE MONTHS the best boy’s paper pub-
lished, but a $1.50 OFFICIAL LEAGUE
‘BALL AS WELL.

it, and it stimulated us to deeds of daring |

in the world, and we hope the report is |
true; but in olden times the native liquors |

ONE DOLLAR and FIFTY CENTS

 

THE RAILWAY LUNCH COUNTER
SANDWICH.

-

I dwell in haunts of hurried men
And have for many ages,

Before the railroads were, and when
The puplic rode in stages.

I can’t remember whence I came,
And e’en the oldest liar

Cannot a date so distant name
But I can name one prior.

While time shall last I'l still be so,
Naught can destroy me, n-ver,

For trains may come and trains may go,
But Vli stay here forever.

Oh, many scores of men I’ve seen
Come smilingly to greet me,

And mutter something low and mean
Because they couldn’t eat me.

They tried to cut me with a dirk,
In coffee sought to drown me;
3ut all their schemes have failed to work,
I'm still just as they found me.

And when they’re gone I'll yet be so,
They can destroy me never.

For hungry men may come and go,
But Vi stay here forever.

Sometimes it makes me sad to see
The aged men and toothless

Put up their hard-earned cash for me,
Because I know I’m useless.

But when smart alecks happen by
It really does delight me

To do my level best and try
To have the goslings bite me,

For well I know they stand no show,
They can affect.me never.
For young and old may come and go,
But ll stay here forever.
Thus do I labor on, and so
I'll keep it up forever,
For sound teeth come ? and false teeth go,
But V’ll stay here forever.
—<o—0—e—____

ANIMAL SAGACITY.

BY MAX ADELER.

y=
G-ETER LAMB was telling the crowd
\--— down at the grocery store about the
JAS learned pig which he had seen play-

ing euchre up. in the city. When
he finished his story the professor said:

“That’s nothing. I’ve seen animals do
queerer things than that. I knew a man
out in Ohio who had a cow that under-
stood grammar. She could point you out
an adverb with one of her horns, and pick
out a pronoun or a verb and parse a sen-
tence as well as anybody. idn’t make
any difference what language it was in,
either Hebrew, or Greek, or Sanscrit, or
any of those tongues. That cow ’d hop
round and parse in a manner that ’d take
your breath away.

“Bill Slocum, out in Indianapolis, he
had a rooster that ’d beat that, though.
It had a gift for music, and Bill he gave
it lessons until it got so that it used to go
down to the Baptist church on Sunday,
and sing tenor in the choir, Not the
words, you know, but kinder hummed
over the tune, so’s it sounded first-rate.
And Bill said it seemed to take an inter-
est in the sermon, and whenever the min-
ister ’d let out any facts that were strik-
ing, Bill’s rooster ’d_ jump on the edge of
the gallery, and flop his wings and crow,
as much as to say, ‘By George, them’s my
sentiments!’ And he was useful, too, for
when the boys in the back pews behaved

| bad, it ’d fly down and bang ’em over the

head a few times with its wings until
they shut up. They had to shut him out
at last, though. He contracted a habit of
singing long meter tunes to short meter
hymns, and the people didn’t like it.

“But old Captain Binns, down at Squan
Beach, had the most singular animal I
ever came across. He had a pet clam that
set up on edge and rolled over the floor
toward him whenever he whistled to it.
And that clam—now I know you’ll think
I’m blowing, but I'll tell you the
solemn truth—that clam, when it was
bedtime, ’d roll up stairs, climb on the
bed, grab the covers with its shells, turn
*em down, turn up the gas, and then roll
down stairs, bolt the front door, and go
sliding off to the cellar to sleep in the
scouring sand. I saw that clam once fight
a dog for two hours, and although the og
swallered it three times, it always crawle
out and tackled him as plucky as ever.

“Yes, that was a little the strangest
case I ever knew. But Dr. Potter of
Smyrna, he had a poll-parrot that used to
play Hamlet all the way through as good
as Forrest ever played it; and he owned a
cat that could dab its tail in the ink-pot
and snake out about half of “Paradise Lost
on a board; wrote a beautiful hand; you
could read it as clear as print. The doc-
tor had a turn for training animals. I
know he owned a lobster that used to
stand on its tail and clap its claws, as
much as to say ‘ongcore! ongcore!’ when
the poll-parrot did the ghost scene, and
that used to hobble along after the cat,
punctuating the sentences with the black-
ing-brush. But funniest of all, he had a

 

Cotswold ram that used to stand with his
forelegs on a drum and beat the long-roll
while he played an accordion with his
teeth. I’ve seen that ram——”’

“Oh, dry up!” exclaimed Miles,
storekeeper.

“What d’you say?”

“T say dry up! You know mighty well
you’re manufacturing all these yarns!”

“Well, s’pose’n I am, what’s a man’s
imagination given to him for but to use?
You have no sense. Blame me if I’
drink anything at your expense, if you
talk that way to me. But if you don’t
mind, I’ll help myself to a cracker.”

The professor reached for one, got it, bit
into it, and sauntered out in search of a
man for whom he had sufficient respect to
accept a gratuitous drink from him,

+36 >

How the Japanese Propose.

the

{rn a
\i N the house wherein reside one or more
oH daughters of a marriageable age, an
—~ empty flower-pot of an ornamental
character is encircled by a ring and sus-
pended from the window or veranda by
three light chains. Now, the Juliets of
Japan are, of course, attractive, and their
tomeos as gallant as those of other lands.
But, instead of serenades by moonlight, and
other delicate ways of making an impression,
it is etiquette for the Japanese lover to ap-
proach the dwelling of his lady, bearing
some choice plant in his hand, which he
proceeds to plant in the empty vase. This
takes place at a time when he is fully as-
sured that both mother and daughter are at
home. This act of placing a pretty plant into
the empty flower-pot is equivalent to a for-
mal proposal to the young lady who dwells
within. The youthful gardener having
settled his plant to his mind, retires, and
the lady is free to act as she pleases. If he
is the right man, she takes every care of his
gift, waters it, and tends it carefully with
her own hands, that ‘all the world may see,
in a word, that the donor is accepted as a
suitor. But if he is not a favorite, or if
stern parents object, the‘poor plant is torn
from the vase, and the next morning lies
limp and withered on the veranda or on the

path below.
+o

BOYS, READ THIS

SERS 2
As it is, and always will be the aim of the
publishers of Goop News to keep the best
stories, by the most popular authors, con-
tinually running through our columns we
take pleasure in announcing as follows:

RANSOMED;

OR,

The Captives of the Apaches.

 

A SEQUEL TO EHENOLA.

 

By EDWARD §&. ELLIS.

GRE
THE YOUNG BOATMAN OF PINE PONT.

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.

i Lari, the hunaay

v

 

 

By HARRY CASTLEMON.

The Young Duck Hunters,

By W. B. LAWSON.

 

 

Besides the above we have other first-class
stories for

GOOD NEWS,

which we will announce and publish as soon
as possible.

   
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
     
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
  
   
  
  
     
  
     
     
     
  
    
    
  
  
 
  
     
  
     
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
   
  
   
     
       
   
  
   
       
      
             
        
       

 
    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

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A SWARM OF BEES.

a+

B patient, B prayerful, B humble, B mild,j

B wise as a Solon, B meek as a child ;

B studious, B thoughttul, B loving, B kind;

B sure you make matter subservient to mind,
B cautious, B prudent, B trustful, B true,

B courteous to all men, B friendly with few,
B temperate in argument, pleasure and wine,
B careful of conduct, of money, of time.

B cheerful, B grateful, B hopeful, B firm,

B peaceful, benevolent, willing to learn ;

B courageous, B humble, B liberal, B just,

B aspiring, B humble because thou art dust;
B penitent, circumspect, sound in the faith,
B active, devoted : B faithful till death,

B honest, B holy, transparent and pure ;

B dependent, B Christ-like and you'll B secure.

Puzzle Corner.

Original contributions solicited. Address, “Puzzle
Editoe” Goop News, New York City, P. O. Box 2734.]

a

No. 1—Cross WorD ENIGMA—

In ball, not in bat.

In stood, not in sat.

In block, not in stone,

In skin, not in bone.

In pink, not in red.

In foot, not in head.

In smart, not in dull.

In mast, not in hull.

My whole is a city in North America.

8. LICK.

No. 2—WorpD SQUARE—

1 Direction on a ship.

2 A Sharper.

8 To make amends.

4 A hedge.

6 Largest of vegetable kinds.

ADELINE,

No. 8—DramMonp—

1 A letter.

2 A mark.

3 A ccin.

4 Happy.

5 An ogre.

6 A color.

7 A letter.

No. 4—HALF SQuARE—
1 A small monkey.
2 To unfasten.
3 A blow.
4 A small bird,
5 One.
6 A letter.

No. 5—EniGgMa—
My 8, 14, 4is spawn of fish.
My 1, 21, 24, 10 is to forfeit.
My 16, 18, 9, 25 is sound in mind.
My 13, 11, 10 ig to hasten.
My 5, 6, 23, 25 isof old time.
My 12, 2, 18, 26 is a Starting point.
My 27, 16, 22, 23 is a number.
My 3, 18, 17, 4isa mantle ornament.
My 20, 6, 7 is a pronoun.
My 19, 15, 22, 1 is the spiritual part ty nah

PUZZLER.

N. C. H. H.

No. 6—BEHEADINGS—

Behead a kind of people and leave a spot ona
card.

Behead to puff up and leave behind time.

Behead a kind of wood and leave scrawny.

Behead to exhaust and leave moisture.

The beheaded letters will form a statesman’s
name. ‘* SILVER MASK,”

No. 7—HIDDEN ANIMALS—
1 William came late to school.
2 They are eating nutritious food.
8 Who put the pan there.
4 A man drills the hole in the iron.
5 Here, boys, go at him. J. 'T’. CONROY.

No. 8—~Dovus.E ACROsTIC—
1 an ointment.
2 A foreign city.
8 A man’s name,
4 A Shell fish.
5 Part of a wheel.
Primals and finals read downward, each name a
poet. ROY.

No. 9—A RIDDLE—

It has aback that’s very often broken; it has
legs but cannot walk; sometimes it has arms, but
it cannot work with them. What isit? Jerry,

No. 10—HippEN Towns—
1 Henry or King must go.
2 Every day tons of coal go by.
8 Can Emil ford the river ?
4 This is a lemon from Cuba.
5 Awaken this man early.
6 Henry Evans caught the thieves.
ARLE.
No. 11—Cross Worp ENIGMA.
1 In go, not in come.
2 In tea, not in rum.
8 In door, not in gate.
4 In early, not in late.
5 In game, not in play.
6 In hen, not in lay.
7 In wheel, not in hub.
8 In wash, not in serub.
9 In house, not in hut.
10 In shear, not in cut.
11 In String, not in rope,
12 In nuncio, not in Pope.
13 In bring, not in take.
14 In water, n t in lake,
15 Inoven, not in bake.
16 In profound, not in mystery.

The name of my whole you'll fing in history.
DASH.

No. 12—Resus—

 

OPO A ES FS EE RR Se Let POE TI REET

GOOD NEWS.

 

, N39: $08 ‘Mistake.

An! THE PRETTIEST NURSE MAID +8 SEL
FOR A LONG TIME

BRIGHT vis1OM> OF P PARAGHAPH TO
MYSELF IN THE MORNIN Gs PAPER SEBLE AY MSGLY Mies?
INSPIRE ME WIT COURAGE

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CHILDS PARENTS

 

 
   
     

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{NO ' NOT WORSE MAID GENTLE READER ) ADVISES Mt

ADDING INSULT TO INJURY - THE KAUNDRY MAID |
TO “IND MY OWN BUDINE DS 1 FUTURE

 

 

Answers t0 Puzzles in No. 10 Good News.

No. 1—Cross Worp Enria@Ma—
The Goop News.

 

No. 2—DIAMOND PuzzLE—
Cc
G- 0:7
CARES
CORONET
TENET
$.E.T
T
No. 3—A RIpDLE—
Rabbit. Rabbi.
No. 4—DOuUBLE DIAMOND—
P
CAS
CARET
PARASOL
DAGON
TOM
No. 5—WorpD SquarE—
SWIFT
WENER
INURE
FERNS
TRESS
No. 6—DOUBLE AcROsTIC—
W ork-sho P
Ww L
R en A
K entuck Y
S. oldie R
Taek a
O ntari O
P lay-roo M
No. T—DECAPITATIONS—
1 Pear. 2 Pin. 3 Hat. 4 Whale. 5 Smile.
No, 8—CHRYPTOGRAMMATIC ANAGRAMS—
1 in words—WIndsor.
2 0 ten raps—Peterson.
8 ifled west—Westfield.
4 lap if I lend—Plainfield,
No. 9—CONCEALED FURNITURE—

1 Sofa. 2. Table. 8 Wardrobe. 4 Stove.

10—ENIGMATICAL CHARADE—
Am-i-cable (Amicable.)

No. 11—Provers PuzzLE—
“Honest men never steal.”
No. 12—DECAPITATIONS—

1 P-eel. 2 L-ark. 8 W-ell.

ANSWER TO REBUS IN NO. 10,
A dog that will carry a bone will bring one.

Short Stops.

ao

A coon dealer—an iceman.

HE who serves well need not be afraid to ask
his wages.

“Sam, Why am de hogs de most intelligent folks
in de world?”
“Because dey nose eberyting.

THERE is a good deal of counterfeit money in
circulation, but it does no great harm. Half of it
is used in paying street car fare.

A LITTLE girl wants to know if fleas are white,
oecause her uncle told her that ‘Mary had a little
lamb with fleece as white as snow.”

“SomEBoDY says King Koffee is a wreck.” He
must be a miserable wreck, indeed, or he would
have more sense than to spell Coffee with a K,

SPRIGGINS says he once prevented a severe case
ot hydrophobia by simply getting on a high feace
and waiting there till the dog had gone away.

A NEGRO Was scalded to death from a boiler ex:

 

Pigston, and on his tombstone they chiseled deeply -
acred to the memory of our steamed friend.”

 

“I WONDER What makes my eyes so weak,” said
a fop to a physician.

“They’re in a weak place,” was the unprofes-
sional reply.

GRAHAM bread is said to be excellent food for |

children, on account of its superior bone-giving
qualities. You can feed a child on it till he’s noth-
ing else but bones.

PROFESSOR OF RueETORIC—‘*What important
change came over Burns in the latter part of his
life?”

Senlor—‘‘He died.”

Mrs. PARTINGTON desires to know why the cap
tain of a vessel can’t keep a memorandum of the
weight of his anchor, instead of weighing it every
time he leaves port.

“Ts your house a warm one, landlord?” asked a
lady in search of a dwelling.

two coats,” was the reply.

“WHAT Can we do,” inquired the Methodist
ministers, ‘to make Sabbath schools more inter-
esting?” And an unregenerate publican suggests,
“Take the boys out fishing.”

A LITTLE girl, hearing her school-teacher spoken
of as a painstaking woman, remaked that the
scholars were the ‘‘painstakingest,” for they were
generally whipped all round every day.

A SUBSCRIBER writes to an editor in the West:
“TJ don’t want your paper any longer.” To which
the editor replies, “I would not make it any lon-
ger even if you did; its present length suits me.”

“Why is it,” asks an exchange, “that nearly
every Senator's wife In Washington is a handsome
woman?” It is simply because nearly every Sena-
oe wife who Is not a handsome woman is left at

rome.

“MINNIE has been to see me to-day,” said a little
five-year-old, ‘‘and she behaved like a little lady.”

“I hope you did, too,” said her mother,

“Yes, indeed, I did; I turned somersaults for her
on the bed.”

Ir looks bad to see a dog preceding his master
down the street, and calmly turn down the stairs
to the first saloon he approaches. It shows there
is something wrong, something lacking, a deplora-
ble tendency on the part of the dog.

Mistress—“Let you goto evening school, Mary ?
Why, I thought you could read ?”

“Well, ma’am, I does know my letters fus rate
so long’s they keep allin a row, but just as soon
as they gets mixed up into words, I’m beat.”

NEVER presume to shake hands with a red hot
poker until you have been properly introduced. A
little politeness on the part of one and all of us in

matters of this kind will do much toward improv- ;

ing the civilization of the nineteenth century.

“Now, George, you must divide your cake hon-
orably with your brother Charles.”
“What is honorable, mother ?”
“It means you must give him the largest piece.”
\ “Then, mother, ’d rather Charley should divide
6”

A LITTLE boy, carrying home some eggs from the
grocery, dropped them,

“Did you break any?” asked his mother, when
he told her of it.

“No,” said the ttle fellow, ‘‘but the shells came
off some of ’em.”

“On which side of the platform is my train?”
asked a stranger in a Jersey City depot the other
day.

“Well, my friend,” replied a gentleman, passing,
“if you take the left, yowll be right, if you take
the right you'll be left.”

DurRING a trial the judge called a witness. No
one answered, and an elderly man arose and sol-
emnly said:

“He is gone.”

“Where has he gone?” asked the Judge, in no
tender tone.

“1 don’t know, but he is dead,” was the guarded
answer.

A YOUNGSTER, While warming his hands over the
kitchen fire, was remonstrated with by his father,
who said:

a ’way from the stove, the weather is not
cold,’

The little fellow, looking up demurely at his
stern parent, replied :

‘T aln’t heatin’ the weather; lam warming my
hands.”

 

 

' license.

Our Mail Bag.

capella

(Questions on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the ‘Mail Bag.” Medical or leg
questions not answered. Goop NrEws goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers cannot appear until two or three we
after we receive them. }

einaeadiscetig esis

J. S. H., (Buffalo.)\—Write to the office of pub:

lication.

’
Jack, (Terre Haute.)—Puzzle accepted. ‘Rebus’
cannot use.

W. McN., (Westfield)—One of the puzzles sent U8
is accepted,

M. E. S., (Philadelphia.)—You will find full pat
ticulars in No. 7.

“91,"—(Fitchburg.)—It is much cheaper to have
the shells reloaded at a gunsmith’s.

’
Chas. F., (New York.)—We think ‘Primrose’
would be a suitable name for a social club.

J. N. P., (Norfolk.)—Send us the puzzles, andif
they are acceptable, we will publish them.

The Goop News B. B. Club of Cincinnati played
two games;last week, of which they won one.

A. H., (New York.)—We do not think the matter
you sent uS can be used. We appreciate your
kind opinions.

J. W., (Elizabeth.)\—We hope you will always
have the same opinion, All readers are entitle
to send in guesses,

C. S. H. G., (Chicago.)—1. Yes, if it is good. 2
We expect to have a binder for Goop News at 4
much lower figure than you name.

Chas. N., (Seneca Falls.)\—We thank you fof
your kind opinion. The Humane Society Gold
Medals are only intended for lite savers.

Yachtsman, (Halifax.)\—The greatest width
should be about one-third the length. The mast
about three-fourths the length of the hull.

Kitty Ellis, (Detroit.)—1, John T. Hoffman was
Governor of New York in 1872. 2. The place you
name is a first-class day resort. 3. Not at present.

H, H, M., (New York.)—1. You must also have &
2. When the water is 70 degrees, 8. Y@S
4. We can send you a book on “Dogs, HOW to
Keep and Zrain Them,” for 10 cents.

Geo. J. K., (Mt. Pulaski.)—Ift more than one per
son guesses the correct standing of the base-Dé
clubs, as they willappear at the end of the seasoDs

the prize will be awarded to the one first mailed.
“It ought to be; the painter has just given it!

Athlete.—In order to get yourself into proper

| condition for such a contest, it will be necess&

for you to increase the amount of exercise V@
materially over that which you state you now
take daily. Your better plan would be to const
a professional trainer, and, if possibie, do yo"
work under his supervision.

Amond, (Baltimore.)—The ‘ Kohinoor” diamond
reduced by its first unskilled cutting from
carats Co 279 Carats, was recut, in 1852, down to 1024
carats. The ‘Star of South Africa,” found in 150%
weighed 464% carats, and was valued in June, 161%
at £25,000. 2. We willsend you a. book on cols
10 cents. 3. We will start an exchange dep

, ment in the fall.

Base-Ball Crank.—Rule 25 says: “If the ue
pire calls ‘game’ on account of darkness oF an
at any time after five innings have been complet t
by both sides, the score shall be that of the
equal innings played, unless the side second at te

| bat shall have scored one or more runs than 6
‘side first at bat, in which cage the score of
game shall be the total number of runs made.

| ES. @. 1, Colchester.)—1. Simply say, Miss Chee
ter, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Col. om
| Illinois was first settled by the French If it
Canada. Ceded to Great Britain in 1763, In 1789 it
was part of the North-west Territory. . In 1809 a8
was made a separate Territory, and tn 1818 Ww
admitted into the Union, being the 28d State.
The census of’ New York city, taken 1880,
1,300,000.

Hattie asks: ‘*‘What are the meanings a stamg
has when attached to an envelope in different alt @
tions ?”—On the left corner, upside down, I
you; on the left corner, crossways, I love ano& 44
on the lett corner, straight up and down, I wit
be rid of your correspondence; placed at the the
tom of the right corner, crossways, No; at 0
bottom of the right corner, upside down, YOS + off
the left lower corner, Do you love me? on the ine
lower corner upside down, I am displeased ; 0? our
| left lower corner, crossways, I wish to have ype

acquaintance; on the right corner, upside dO 4
| Friendship; on the right corner, straight up ide
' down, Business correspondence ; on the left a

in the center, Accept me as a lover; on the ides
side, upside down, I am engaged; on the lefb
| in the center, crossways, Who cares ?

‘°
| Kate wishes to know, “if it ts possible to Pig
| serve flowers without pressing them.”—A pre

, that will preserve flowers, leaves, and plan

' their freshness for an indefinite time, without & A

| necessity of pressing them, may be briefly nd
| eribed thus: Let a suflicient quantity of fN@ erg,
| be washed, so as to separate it from other malls
| It has next to be dried and sifted, in ordé nd
| cleanse it from the gross impurities that woul ine
rise in the washing. ‘he flowers and leave od,
, tended to be preserved should then be gather av
; With a good length of stalk, and deposite mall
earthen vessel adapted to their size. neds
quantity of the sand, prepared as above airs ine
is now to be heated and laid on the bottom 0 wets
| vessel, So as to cover it equally, and the 0% 49
and leaves are to be placed on the sand, 5 p!
‘touch no part of the vessel. More sand is tl@,
| be sifted over, that the leaves may gradua
| pand without receiving any injury, till the lo
| and leaves are covered-to the depth of two t@
: The vessel is now to be placed in a stove 0 pret’
house, and kept at a temperature of 144° ran 40
heit, where it should stand two or more 4% cen
| proportion to the thickness or succulence ® ay
flowers. At the end of that time the sand 2 the
‘gently shaken off. on a piece of paper, 42 a
specimens taken out. It is said by those WO 9 te

 

| adopted this method that the flowers will egale

' tain all their beauty, the shapes being as ©
and the colors as vivid as before,

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