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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1890, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.O.
Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post-Office, June 19, 1890.
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Vol. 1. si Those Street. P.O, Box 2194, New York, June 19, 1890. Subscription Price, $2.00 per Year, No. 6.

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on RECKLESS ROLL;

ave oD P Or, THE WoLuF IN THE FOLD.

ttme 07 tegen
By JAMES K. LENNOX.

CHAPTER I. { tree or shrub, but traveling eastward from
| the mouth of the Loup this monotony was
THE BOY RANGER. | broken by small groves or “motts” of tim-
|ber. And traveling still father eastward,
\PYHE great plains of Nebraska lay | these wooded isles increased in number
> bathed in the light of an August | until they finally thickened into a dense
Sun, and the Platte River sparkled | forest that stretched away for a dozen

its w like a thread of silver, as it coursed | miles to the Missouri River. — f
T 2Y with the sinuosity of a serpent. |! At the time of which I write—1853—all
1S mighty expanse was unbroken by that territory lying west of the last-named

 

a mentee
uld adv

 

 

 

yi THE BOY RANGER WAS SECURELY BOUND AND FORCED RUTHLESSLY INTO THE GREAT, HOLLOW LOG.

nd ude, was claimed by the Indi- | almost every nationality, had banded to-| backward a dozen miles from the M! souri, }derness behind him.
the California emigrants of | gether, and with the assistance of the In-| at noon of a certain day of the moms and{| But whatever may have been his feelings

Dorey Tat north of the fortieth degree of) Hundreds of disreputable characters of | tremity of the great woods strétching | were the first that had ever trod the wil-
a
Re

fe q uttered greatly at the hands of | dians, had begun to pray upon the more | the year heretofore mentioned, unely,|}on the subject, he soon would have had
hee late Marauders.. But when, a year or | fortunate gold-hunters. But these mat- | August of 1853, he would have experienced | occasion to change them; for not long
dg Ward the tide of emigration turned | ters are too well known to the intelligent | the exultation that’ one is inspired With |} after noon the crack of a rifle rolled in
thee with some of the gold-seekers la- | reader to be repeated here, and so we will' when gazing upon a new-found land. “He | sullen echoes through the forest, and was
hag “an fortunes and others bankrupt, | now proceed with our story. | would have felt that his eyes were thé immediately succeeded by a wail and a
Rear: of the mountain and plain{ Had a person being standing on the bank | first that had ever looked upon the great, | savage yell.

Y increased. of the Platte River, at the western ex-!green prairie before him, that his feet) Death was abroad in the forest.

 
82

A few minutes later a horseman came
thundering from the forest at a wild,
break-neck speed, closely pursued by two
mounted Pawnee Indians.

The fugitive was a young white man—
in fact, a mere boy in years, though his

ao developments were those of per- |

ect manhood.

He could not have been over eighteen
ears of age, judging from his boyish face ;
ut he was possessed of a vigorous, robust
figure, features of an intellectual mold,
and altogether a handsome, prepossessing
youth was Roland Stanley, better known
from the settlement of Plattsmouth to the
Loup as Reckless Roll, the Boy Ranger.

He was dressed in a buckskin suit that
had an air of neatness and taste about it;
and in addition to the fine, silver-mounted
rifle which he held in his left arm as he
rode from the woods, he carried a brace of
fine-looking pistols and a hunting-knife in
his girdle.

The animal he bestrode was a fine and
spirited one, remarkable for _ strength,
swiftness, and endurance. It had been pre-
sented to the young ranger by the settlers
of Plattsmouth—a small settlement lo-
cated at the mouth of the Platte River—
in part payment for the service he had
rendered them as an Indian scout.

As the youth galloped from the woods,

closely pressed by the Pawnees, his dark |

eyes flashed, and a stern smile lit up the
brown, beardless face, indicative of a dar-
ing and reckless spirit, and an innate
love of wild adventure.

The Pawnees were mounted upon fleet,
strong-limbed mustangs. A riderless pony
was following close behind, and there was
fresh blood upon its back and upon its
sides; and this was evidence that the
boy fugitive had deprived it of master and
rider.

“Come on to your doom, you red coy-
otes!” the youth shouted in a clear, strong
voice, gazing back over his shoulder at the
defiant, exasperated foe.

A fierce, vindictive yell came from the
Pawnees, who were using every exertion
to overtake the daring, hated young ranger.

For several minutes .the race continued
along the river-bank. Reckless Roll was
steadily gaining on the foe, when he sud-
denly drew rein and turned toward the
savages. One word and his animal be-
came motionless; then the youth raised his
rifle and fired at the foremost warrior.

True to its aim, the bullet went home,
and the next instant two riderless mus-
tangs ran free so the plain.

By this time the remaining savage, who
had continued to press steadily forward,
was within thirty paces of our hero, who
was making a movement to reload his
rifle. Now was the Pawnee’s opportu-
nity, and aiming his rifle at the-breast of
the youth, he fired.

A cry, as of mortal agony, burst from
the lips of the latter. He reeled upon his
animal’s back, and finally rolled heavily
to the earth, a groan issuing from his lips.

A triumphant shout rang from the lips
of the Pawnee, and with a diabolical grin
upon his painted face and a wicked look
in his sinister eyes, he pressed on and
drew rein by the prostrate form.

his hand had the terrible young foe
fallen, and already the wily Pawnee had
pictured in his mind the honors he would
reap from the achievement. Already he
could feel the plumes of a war-chief nod-
ding above his head, for this was the re-
ward offerd by the Pawnee dignitaries for
the scalp of Reckless Roll.

With scarcely an effort the savage
threw himself to the ground, and as he
advanced toward the youth he drew his
scalping-knife.

The savage’s eyes gleamed with fiendish
triumph. Our young friend’s oop had been
displaced in his fall, and his long, dark
hair lay spread out on the grass about his
head in tempting masses to the eye of the
savage who, advancing, stooped and
clutched the dark locks in his fingers.
Then the knife descended to do its bloody
work, but at this juncture the supposed
dead figure stirred, and a hand with a

istol in it was thrust suddenly up into

he savage’s face. :

“Not a ripe scalp, redskin!” burst from
the Boy Ranger’s lips.

Then the pistol cracked. The over-
confident Pawnee staggered back with a
moan, and fell dead, the blood spurting
= a jets from a hole in his fore-

ead.

“Hal ha!” laughed Reckless Roll, tri-
umphantly, as he sprang to his feet, “that
was a good one on the red coyote——”

“Ay, ay, it was that, lad.”

Reckelss Roll started 2% sound of that
voice. He turned and saw a man dressed
in the garb of a hunter approaching him
his face flushed with excitement. }

“Hullo, my friend, Old Bugler ¢
claimed our young hero.

“Yes, and a lively time I have had to
get here, Roll,” replied the hunter. «]
thought the redskin had pinked you for
good. But then I might a known it wur
one o’ your gol darned reckless capers.
Boy”—and the old borderman’s voice
sounded almost as shrill as the instrument
after which he had been nicknamed—“ boy,

>.

 

GooDp

I tell you what, you’ve got to be more keer-
ful. This blarsted, head-long, wild-fire,
harem-scarem life o’ yourn will be lost
some day, and then don’t you know the
sorry and sadness it’d cause at the Lone
Oaks?”

“There, there, friend Bugle, you have
had your say,” replied the young ranger, a

|slight blush suffusing his handsome face;

“put do you know the Pawnees and the
road agents have set a price on my scalp?”
“Nay, nay, lad.”
“It’s true, Bugle; and it’s because I’m

| engaged in a certain work in which I want
| to secure your help.”

“Indeed! is—is it honest work?” and the
old hunter laughed heartily at his own
conceit.

“Let us retire to the woods yonder, and
I will tell you all about it.’’

“So, 80.”

Reckless Roll caught his horse, and then |

they set off for the woods. It was soon
reached, and in among the dense shadows
they came to a halt.

“Now, Bugle,” said Reckless Roll, “what
T am going to tell you is a secret that I
would reveal to no other living man; so
you see I have placed implicit confidence
in you.

“Oh, certainly, lad; your secret will be
safe, so belch it out, and if I can help you
any, here’s my heart and hand, soul and
body.”

“Well, I am working in behalf of a
friend,” said the youth. “About two years
ago, two men were returning from Cali-

fornia with an immense fortune of gold |
The road agents got wind of |

bullion.
their possessions, and went after them.
The men were pressed so closely that they
were compelled to bury their treasure and
flee to save their lives. Now, that treas-
ure was buried alongthe Platte River
somewhere inside of a day’s ride from its
mouth. Through a combination of events
it has become known that these men drew
up a map—with a key to it in cipher—of
the location where they buried their gold,
for fear it would be a long time before they
could return, and they would forget the
place. Moreover, they had concealed the

treasure in an isolated spot, so that it |

would escape the robbers’ eyes. They had
left the main traveled route and were en-
tirely dependent upon themselves and
their rifles for sustenance and safety. But,
alas! one of them was drowned in crossing
the Missouri River—the one, mark you,
that had the map! The other, being un-
able to recover his body, pushed on. But
he finally had a limb broken by the fall
of his horse. He was unable to proceed,
and there in the wilderness, a hundred
miles from civilization, he sickened and
died. But before his death, which he saw
was inevitable, he wrote in a small memea-
randum-book what I have told you, and
a great deal more. I, friend Bugle, was
the person that found that book beside a
human skeleton a month after the unfor-
tunate man’s death. I read the man’s
great secret, and at the end of it was
a ee that the finder might prove
an honest person and forward the book to
his orphan daughter, whose name and ad-
dress were given. I sent the book as re-
quested, and the daughter received it. It
appears that each of these unfortunate
Californians had a daughter, who, by the
death of her father, became an orphan,

and, it is by these two daughters that I |
have been employed to find their father’s |

buried treasure |’

“Wal,” replied Old Bugle, “it'll be like
huntin’ a needle in a hay-stack, I’m
afeared. “

“That’s true, Bugle; if we only had the
map they drew up we might find it with-
out trouble. And we may any how if
Rhinehart’s robbers don’t find it first!”

“What, does them cussed road agents
know ‘bout it?”

“Yes, they have got wind of it in a way
that is a profound mystery to those two
girls. They have also learned that I am
on the hunt for that gold, and that’s why
they’ve offered a reward for my scalp—
through fear that I’ll find the gold.”

“Wal, by gosh!” exclaimed Old Bugle
“this is something new, and I’m in “for
the fun teeth and toe-nails. But, look
away yander, lad, and I think you’ll see
some sport a-comin’ this away.”

Looking in the direction indicated, the
Boy Ranger saw a number of Indians and
one white man a proaching across the
prairie. From the direction in which they
were headed it was evident that they
would strike the timber near where our
two friends stood. The latter, however,
remained stationary and watched the
movements of the foe.

About fifty rods from the margin of the
woods the Pawnees came to a halt, and
appeared to be holding a consultation.
Presently the chief of the Indians and the
white man turned, and came on toward
the woods, the warriors rémaining behind.

“By the shades of Tophet!” exclaimed
Reckless Roll, “that white man is the
notorious Rubal Rhinehart, chief of the
outlaws, and that Indian is his right
bower, Pantherfoot.”

So, so,” replied Old Bugle; “but I won-

 

der what the deal’s up now?”

 

NEWS.

“T’ll find out, Bugle, if you’ll take my
horse and conceal it back in the woods.”

“T’ll do it; but now do be keerful, Roll;
you know your failin’—wild-fire and
lightin’,” responded the hunter, as he
mounted the horse and galloped away.

The Pawnee chief and the robber captain
came on and entered the woods. The former
was a savage, whose eyes and features be-
trayed all the subtle cunning and wild
ferocity of his race. The other was a hand-
some dashing-looking man of about thirty
years of age, with dark-gray eyes, a fine
form, and quick, elastic step. But he was
a villain, despite his good looks.

The two confederates advanced toward
the very spot where our young -hero was
concealed in a dense clump of shrubbery.

The next instant the ranger became
aware of the approach of a third person,
and a glance through the bushes showed
the youth that it was a white man, who
came on and halted within an arm’s length
of where he stood concealed, and the next
moment was joined by Pantherfoot and
the outlaw.

This third person was well known to
our hero. It was Homil Deusen, the In-
dian agent for the Pawnee tribes, and his
presence there under the circumstances
was a matter of no little curiosity to the
Boy Ranger, who bent his head and lis-
tened.

“Hullo, on time to a minute, friend
Homil,” he heard the outlaw exclaim, and
from this he knew they were there by
agreement.

“Come? Of course; who ever knew
Homil Deusen to disappoint a friend?”
was the Indian agent’s reply.

“So they are friends, eh?” mused Reck-
less Roll; “a government official in league
with a robber chief. Just so. But, whew!
who says I’m not in a close fix for perfect
ease?”

The youth dared not move, and he was
almost afraid to breathe lest the acute ear
of Pantherfoot should hear him. But he

|resolved to learn all he could of the trio’s
| meeting.

“Oh, of course you’re true as steel,
Homil Deusen,” he heard the outlaw re-
spond to the agent’s question; “but I have
been wondering what in the thunder you
want me to meet you here for.”

“For business,” replied Deusen. “I’ve
some very good news to tell you, Rubal.”

“Ah, what is it?”

“T’ve found the map, or rather the key,
to them two fellows’ buried treasure.”

“What? Good Heaven! Are you not
jesting like thunder, Homil?” exclaimed
the outlaw.

“Tam not, my dear Rubal. I found it
in possession of an Omaha Indian. Nearly
two years ago the Indian found the body
of a drowned man washed ashore along
the Missouri. He took possession of the
man’s clothing, and in the pockets he
found the map in a leather pocket-book,
also some money and papers, a pocket
compass, and a memorandum-book with
Henry Thompson’s name, in it. Of course
the Indian knew nothing of the real value
of the map, and so I purchased it of him
for a trifle.”

Reckless Roll was startled by this dis-
closure, and for a minute he was afraid
his throbbing heart would betray his pres-
ence. Both of these men he had discov-
ered were in search of the same gold he
had been employed to find, and every
thing now was in their favor, for if Deusen
did have the map drawn up by Henry
Thompson, there was nothing to prevent
them from finding the gold and defraud-
ing the rightful heirs out of it. But Reck-
less Roll then and there mentally resolved
that they should never find the treasure
and that he would possess that map!

“Yes, sir, Rubal,” he heard Deusen con-
tinue, “I have the map, and the gold is as
good as ours. To prove all to you, I will
show you the paper; a little of one corner
is torn off, but it will not prevent, I
think, a lucid understanding of the map.”

As he spoke the Indian agent drew from
his pocket a small memorandum-book,
from which: he took a stained and time-
worn paper and unfolded it,

With the utmost eagerness and curiosity
Rubal Rhinehart turned to gaze upon the
paper, but before he could trace the dim
outlines of the map upon it, a brown hand
was thrust suddenly through the foliage
behind them, and the paper was snatched
from Homil Deusen’s fingers

CHAPTER II.

MAP,

 

THE

“A CRY of rage burst from the lips of
XN Homil Deusen when he felt the

LS a snatched from his hand.
“> So quick was it done that he did
not see the strange hand that took it. At
first he thought a gust of wind had carried
it away, but when he heard the crashing
of a body through the undergrowth behind
him and discovered the cause of it, they
also saw who had committed the bold
theft. To their surprise, rage, and indig-
nation, all three saw Reckless Roll, the
Boy Ranger, running down the bank of
the river with the speed of a deer, the
paper clutched in his hand,

   

“By all the furies!” burst from the pro- ~
fane pes of Rubal Rhinehart, “the map is ~
in the hands of that accursed Boy Ranger!
It must be recovered, or the gold is lost.
Call your Indians, Pantherfoot, call your
Indians.”

Pantherfoot hastened to call his war-
riors, but before he had got them upon the
trail the daring boy was nearly a mile
away.

“Ha! ha!” laughed the youth as he ran
on, “that was a cool trick I played them
rascals, and now if I could only run across
Old Bugle—but what’s the use of all this
hurry? The coyotes couldn’ find me for an
hour, and why not stop and take a rest
and look at the map?”

Thus musing he came to a halt, and
seated himself on a large hollow log lying
upon the bank of the mver.

Unfolding the paper he spread it out be-
fore him, and gazed upon the map,
which, ror the benefit of the reader, wé
will give a fac-simile of:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reckless Roll examined the map closely
and then read the key attached, but there
was just enough of the key and signature.
torn off at the right-hand lower corner
render the whole thing obscure. But the
course of the Platte River, with every”
bend and tributary from the mouth of the
Loup to the Missouri, was well known
him. And within twenty miles of where
he sat, he could recall to memory threé
different bends in the river like that
sketched on the map, and, singular as i
may seem, two small tributaries join
their waters with the river near each ene:
One of these creeks flowed through a sm@
grove before entering the river, and 42
other was an outlet from a small lake
The question now arose with our hero.
to whether “a,” the pa of the beginni)
on the map, was where a creek enteré
the grove, or emptied into the lake. Ther
was a space dotted off on the map in thé
upper left-hand corner to represent eithet —
the grove or the lake, but there was not
ing by which he could determine which |
one it was. 4

For several minutes he sat deeply po?
dering the map,. He would trace thos?
dotted lines from “a’’ to “b,” and the?
when the whole secret seemed ready @
burst clearly upon his mind these few
words missing from the corner woul
again puzzle and perplex him.

But the youth did not despair. He wa
gifted with great patience and persevely
ance, and as he folded up the paper ai

ut it carefully away in an fist te pockets q

1e exclaimed : :

“T will unravel the secret and find thé
gold for her sake. Nothing shall deter—_

At this juncture the sound of a »proay a
ing voices warned him that he had tart} t
there long enough. So he rose to his a
and started away. He had taken but
single step when something tripped hit
and he fell heavily to the ground. He “i
tempted to rise to his feet, but he we
again thrown to the earth, and now he be
came conscious of something pulling 8
his ankle. a8

He glanced down at his feet and W&
not a little surprised to see his ankle oo
cireled by a buckskin thong, the oppost d
end of which was held by a dusky hare
thrust through a hole in the side of, ® 2
hollow log upon which he had just bee
seated.

It flashed across his mind in a moment
how this state of affairs had been broug
about. While he was seated upon the 1%
his whole mind absorbed in his anxiety ag
unravel the secret of the map, the Iné™4
had crept into the great hollow log ar ef
slipped a noose over the youth’s ankle the}
happened to be near a small knot-hole-

Quick as a flash the Boy Ranger Amy
his knife and cut the thong, but befor’ ot
could regain his feet and flee, Panther!

 

1 Db
and his warriors came bounding thr oe

0
the undergrowth, and the next minul®

 

 

 
   

ro-
p is
rer |
ost.
our

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the
nile

ran
rem
ross 4.
this ~

r an
rest

and
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, be-
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, we

 

 

was ahelpless captive, bound hand and
foot.

A moment later Rubal Rhinehart and
Homil Deusen came up, puffing for breath.
“Thank Heaven!” burst from Deusen’s

ips.

tell, you may be thankful,” replied
the outlaw chief; “for had he ever got to
Plattsmouth alive, he would have blowed
you to thunder.”

“Villains!” cried our hero, indignantly,
“T thank Heaven that my death will not
prevent justice from being dealt out to
you.”

“So, ho, my young thief,” retorted the
outlaw, “you are making threats now.
However, I’ll wager a fortune that you’ll
never steal another paper from a man’s
very fingers, nor hunt for buried treasure
this side of Hades.”

“Think you not, you coward?” replied
the fearless young ranger.

“Curse you, you insolent young whelp!”
hissed the robber chief, “be careful; I will
stamp the life out of you.”

“You can do it now, Rhinehart; but
free me, and, boy though I be, I will en-
gage to hang your -scalp at my girdle in
five minutes.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed the outlaw, eva-
sively, “you would do it indirectly in five
minutes by running away with that paper.

o, sir, you will never trouble these
parts again, and so now I'll take that
paper awhile.”

The outlaw advanced and bending over
the prostrate form of the young ranger be-
gan rifling his pockets. After some min-
utes he succeeded in finding the paper,
which he handed to Deusen; then turning
to the Pawnee chief, he said:

“Pantherfoot, I want that young hound

ut out of the world, and I do not want

is blood directly upon my hands.”

“Then let the white man go ’way—hide
his eyes,” said the fiendish Pantherfoot.
“Pawnee kill and scalp young, bad pale-
face—throw body in river.”

“No, no, Pantherfoot,” replied Rhine-
hart, “some scout or hunter will find the
body, and it may get us into trouble. See
here, gag him so he can’t squawk an
chuck him into his hollow log.”

“Good!” ejaculated the savage fiend,
“and burn him and log together.’

“Not, exactly,” replied the outlaw, “but
something just as good.”

For the first time in his life, Reckless
Roll experienced a sense of fear. He knew
he was in the hands of desperate enemies.
He knew the savage desired his death,
through a spirit of vengeance, while the
outlaws were anxious that he should be
out of the way that no one might stand
between them and the gold of the two
Californians, for they knew that the Boy
Ranger’s knowledge of the topography of
the country, and the information gleaned
already from the map, would soon lead
him to the spot where the treasure was
buried. At least, they feared so, hence
their great anxiety for his death.

The Boy Ranger was securely bound
and gagged by direction of Rhinehart, who
Seemed to wield great power over the sav-

es. He was then earried to the end of
the hollow log and forced ruthlessly into
the great, black hollow,

This log was about twenty feet long and
about three in diameter. About half of
its entire length was hollow as a shell,
the other half solid and sound.

After the body of the Boy Ranger had
been forced into the, hollow the mouth of
the log was immediately blocked up with
short chunks of wood. Then, by means of
tomahawks, wedges were made and driven
in between and around the chunks so that
no human power could withdraw them.

The young ranger thus imprisoned, the
outlaw said:

“Drowning is said to be an easy death,
80 now, Indians and friend Homil, lay
hold an let’s roll this log into the river!”

Our hero heard those words and a shud-
der ran through his frame. The next in-
stant he felt the log moving.

The ground to the river’s brink was un-
obstructed with trees or bushes, and it
was slightly sloping toward the water, so
that when the savages had given the log a
start it shot away with rapid revolutions
and rolled with a thunderous crash into
the river, carrying tons of the crumbly
bank of stone and drift with it.

The inhuman perpetrators of this inhu-
man deed rushed to the edge of the bank
to watch the log. They saw it sink be-
neath the waves, then it rose to the sur-
face again and rising and falling, rising
and falling with the motion of the waves,
it was swept away on the swift-rushing
current.
este yet no cry or sound had issued from

e log.

“Hol ho!” laughed Homil Deusen,
“that’s another way to get rid of a nui-
sance.”

“It’s a good way,” replied the outlaw
chief, “for no one will ever know what be-
came of Reckless Roll, the Boy Ranger.
And the gold will now be ours. ° So let us
take another look at the map, friend
Homil.”

The two stepped aside, and then Deusen
produced the map, and together they

looked it over for several minutes. But

they met with the same difficulty that had
uzzled the Boy Ranger, and the map
eld its secret.

“Tl tell you, Homil,” said the outlaw,
“we can cipher out the place of that buried
treasure, but it will take a long time, and
it must be done secretly.

result of our figures. Prying ears are al-
ways around us, and we must be on our
guard against treachery. No, we had bet-

a time and place to meet in private and
fathom the secret of that map.”

“But where shall we find a place where
no treacherous ears will hear us, Rubal.”

“In the middle of Otter Lake.”

“Good! You’ve an eye for business,
Rubal; and now say when we shall meet.”

“To-night at twelve o’clock. The moon
will be up then, and in the middle of Otter
Lake we can meet in canoes and do our
work.”

“So be it,” replied Homil Duesen. “I
will return to Plattsmouth now. General
Harney is to be there this evening to con-
fer with me in regard to the state of af-
fairs among the Indians, but at midnight
I’ll be in the middle of Otter Lake.”

Rhinehart called Pantherfoot to them,
and having made known the programme
to him, asked:

“Can you meet us here on the lake,
chief?”

“Yes; me be there at midnight.”

“All right, boys,” said the outlaw. “I
will now return to my ranch, and shall
expect you on Otter Lake at midnight,
rain or shine. Our conference there may
last a long time, but we will have the as-
surance that no Reckless Rolls or prying
ears will reach us there, fifty rods from
shore.”

Here the conversation ended. Homil
Deusen turned and proceeded toward
Plattsmouth settlement, while the outlaw
and the Pawnees took their way north-
ward through the woods toward the In-

| dian village.

Scarcely were they out of hearing when
a figure dropped from the very tree under
which the three villains had conferred,
and glided swiftly away down the river.
It was the lithe figure of Old Bugle, the
trapper.

CHAPTER III.
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING,

Cs

oy T was ee The moon was up,
‘P but it was obscured by dark clouds.
A Otter Lake, down in the heart of a
‘=> great, deep forest, lay wrapped in
silence, and a fog hung over its pulseless
bosom.

“I do wonder if Rubal will be out, ‘rain
or shine?’ ”

The speaker stood alone on the southern
shore of the lake. He wore a slouch hat
and his form was protected from the rain
by a great gum blanket drawn closely
about him.

It was Homil Deusen, the Indian agent.
Before him lay a small canoe and he was
debating with himself whether or not to
venture abroad upon the lake.

But as the minutes wore by he suddenly
caught sight of a dull, red light bobbing
about around on the eastern shore. He
kept his eyes upon it, and when he saw
it moving out upon the lake he concluded
it was Rubal Rhinehart going to the ap-

ointed place of meeting, and carrying a
antern.

This decided Homil’s course, and step-
ping into his canoe, he took up the paddle
and pushed rapidly across the lake toward
the light, which by this time had become
stationary.

As he drew near to it he exercised great
caution, until he was certain the person
with the light was the outlaw; shen he
— alongside his canoe, and came toa
halt.

The robber chief was protected from the
weather by an oil coat and cap.

“Well, friend Rubal, a bad night is
this for one to be abroad,” was Deusen’s
greeting.

“A little moist, Homil, a little moist,
but all the better for our business,” replied
Rubal Rhinehart. “You see Ihave brought
a lantern, as the moon will not get out to-
night.”

Ay, ay, Rubal; but where’s Panther-
foot?”

“Don’t know. You see I have not
seen him since we parted to-day. But rest
assured he will be here. An Indian never
fails in making good a promise to a friend.”

“Can’t we do our business without him
anyhow?”

“We could, but it would be a breach of
trust. You see if we should slight the
chief now, it’d turn him against us, and
we would get no assistance from his
braves. You see Iam only courting his
favor for his help.”

“Yes, yes; I see into it now—but there!
did I not hear the dip of a paddle?”

The two listened.

The plash of a paddle came faintly to
their ears.

The fog was very dense, and blinded by

 

the rays of the lantern they were unable

No one but you | upon
and I, and Pantherfoot, must know the

ter say no more about it now, but appoint |

|

| “and I'll
| SO.

  
   
 
   
 
   
   
    
 
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
 
 
  
    
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
   
 
  
   
  
    
   
   
 
   
   
  
   
  
     
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
    
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
 
   
    
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
     
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
 
  
  
     
 

GOOD NEWS.

| to see arod away. But a few minutes
later a canoe pushed cautiously alongside
of Rhinehart and Deusen. It contained a
single occupant, and they, of course, con-
cluded that it was Pantherfoot, although
they could not see his face. They recog-
nized him by his great, scarlet blanket,
which was wrought, in various
colors, a panther’s foot—the chief’s totem.
To protect the war-paint upon his face, he
had drawn his blanket hood-like over his
head, leaving a small opening for his eyes.

“Ah, it is you, friend Pantherfoot,” said
the outlaw chief.

“Pantherfoot always makes word good,”
replied the chief, in broken English.

Vith Deusen on one side and Panther-
foot on the other, each one remaining in
his own canoe, Rubal Rhinehart announced
all ready for business.

Deusen presented the map to him, and
spreading it out before him, where the
rays of the lantern would fall upon it, he
looked it carefully over, read the key at
the bottom, and then said:

“In the first place, the question arises
as to whether this body dotted off here is
a lake ora grove. I am acquainted with
a grove and lake, not far apart either, and
each one is located just about as this on
the map, with creeks and bend in the river
to correspond.”

“I think it’s a lake, Rubal,” said Deusen,
ive you my reason for thinking
If it had been a grove the creek would
have been traced through it on the map,
but being a lake, it’s natural enough that
when the creek enters the lake that it
should end here, and then it’s natural
enough that another creek should start at
the other side of the lake, just as it is
sketched on that paper. And I think that
right where that creek enters the lake is
‘a,’ the place of beginning.”

“Me think him that way, too,” said
Pantherfoot.

“Well, it does look reasonable,” said the
outlaw. chief; “and admitting that such is
the case, let us follow the directions of the |
key. ‘Start at “a,”’ it says, ‘run due east |
eighty paces; thence south-west twenty
rods; thence due east again sixty paces to
“b.”’ Then there is ‘b’ at the shaft of an
arrow and ‘a’ at the point. Now I think
this means—‘thence from “b” to “a.”’”

“Then what?” asked Deusen.

“Well, after ‘a’ in the key there are two
horizontal bars of lines, which, I think,
are here to represent the sign of equality,
and, if so, it means this—after runnjng
eighty paces, east, then twenty rods south-
west, then sixty paces east again, then
back~ from ‘b’ directly across to ‘a,’ the
lines will represent an X.”

“By George, your head’s level, Rubal!”
exclaimed Deusen.

“Heap good head,” added Pantherfoot,
though his companions doubted very much
whether he understood one-third of what
was said.

“Then the key says,” continued Rhine-
hart, “ ‘dig where the lines’—well, there
it breaks off; the other word or words are
gone—torn off. But I think we can sup-
ply the missing word, which would. read
about this way: ‘Dig where the lines
touch.’ That would be at ‘a,’ the place of
beginning. Or, it might read thus: ‘Dig
where the lines cross.” This would be in
the center of the X. Look at it, Panther-
foot, and see what you think of my idea.”

He passed the map over to the chief,

nudging Deusen as he did so.
Jell,’’ said the latter, “it won’t take
long to examine both of the places of
which you speak, Rubal. But here would
be the greatest trouble. Them Califor-
nians, when they buried their gold, run
out the lines exact by means of a com-
pass, and we’d have to do the same, or we
might never find the gold.”

“Well, can’t we do it?”

“Where’s our compass?”

“There,” replied the outlaw, producing
a silver-incased pocket-compass; “did you
suppose aman of my business. could ‘get
along on these great prairies after night
without a compass?”

“Well, no, come to think,” said Deusen,
taking the compass and examining it, “it
would be impossible to travel on the prairie
without a guide, especially on such a night
as this.”

In the meantime Pantherfoot had got
through with his examination of the map,
and folding it up carefully, drew the hand
in which he held it under the folds of his
blanket as if to ayroeet the paper from the
falling rain. 1en actuated, apparently,
by that great curiosity so characteristic 0
the Indian, he reached out and took the
compass from Homil Deusen’s hand.

“I think,” said Deusen, to avoid an out-
burst of laugther at the chief’s uncon-
scious impudence, “that before two days
longer we’ll have that gold.”

“Yes, but had that impudent, reckless
| young dare-devil, Reckless Roll, got awa
jalive, he would have had the treasure by
this time,” said the outlaw.

“You fellers never find the gold,” said
Pantherfoot, his eyes still bent upon the
compass, “Why not, Pantherfoot?”

“Because,” replied the chief, in a
tone that caused the outlaw and his com-
panion to start, “you are two deluded

 

 

 

83

fools, The Boy Ranger has both your com-
ass and the map, and he will keep them.

; foioney: am Reckless Roll!”

The supposed Pantherfoot threw aside
the great scarlet blanket, and there, be-
fore the astonished, dumfounded  out-
laws, stood our hero, Reckless Roll, the
Boy Ranger.

A curse burst from the lips of Rubal
Rhinehart, but before either of them could
have time to act, the lantern was shiv-
ered to pieces by a blow from a club in
the hand of the Boy Ranger.

Another blow of the club, and the rob-
ber chief was struggling in the lake, and
cursing with impotent rage.

Homil Duesen assisted him into his
boat. Silence, for a moment prevailed.
This was broken by a triumphant, mock-
ing laugh from Reckless Roll, as, under
the vigorous strokes of his paddle, his
light. canoe shot away over the bosom of
the mist-shrouded lake.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
———__+-e-»____

A Sailor in Spite of Himself

i

By HARRY CASTLEMON,

Author of ‘Frank, the Young Naturalist,” «True
To His Colors,” “Frank in the’ Woods,” “The
Steel Horse,” ‘Frank on the Mountains,”
“The Rod and Gun Club,” “Snowed Up,” ete.

——--¢

 

(“A SAILOR IN SPITE OF HIMSELF” was commencedin ~
No.1. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.]

CHAPTER XX.

ANOTHER MUTINY.

SP ELL, boy, what are you staring
X X I at?” demanded the captain,

lo) “Did you never see a ship before?
re Turn to at once, for we don’t
allow idlers here. Doctor, go into the galley
andlend a hand there. What's your name,
you gray-beard ?”

“Smith, sir,” replied Ben.

“Well, Smith, you'll find enoagh to do
with this chaffing gear to keep you busy
the rest of theday. And you, boy——”

“On deck there !” shouted a voice from
aloft.

“Fore-top,” replied the captain.

“Can I have a marlin-spike and about
five minutes’ help ?” asked the voice.

“Jump up there, boy,” said the captain,
turning to Bob.

Our hero, having heard the request, knew
just what todo. He caught up a marlin-
spike and ran aloft with it, and he met with
another surprise so great that he came. very
near letting go his hold and going back
to the deck in a much greater hurry than he
had come up. The sailor who was at work
in the top was an old companion and friend.

“Sweet !” exclaimed Bob, hardly able to
believe his eyes.

“Not a word out of you,” replied the
sailor, glancing below to make sure that the
captain was not watching him. “Iwas glad
to see you at first, but now I'm sorry, for
you came near letting the cat out of the bag
when you first came alongside.”

“But I saw my father,” replied the boy,
earnestly.

“And Ben saw him too, didn’t he? But
he was too smart to make a fuss about it.”

“Ah, I understand it now,” said Bob,
with a sudden gleam of intelligence. “He
said I didn’t see him; and wouldn’t let me
talk about him.”

“That shows that Ben's head is level. He
was afraid you would say something before
the captain. Here, hold fast to the end of
this rope. You must do something while
you are up here, or you'll be ordered down

| again,” said the sailor, speaking hurriedly,

as if he wished to say as much as possible
in the shortest space of time. ‘We've got
things all fixed, and you musnh't go to spoil-
ing them for us. The cargo will be aboard
at sundown and we sail at the turn of the
tide, but when we do sail, your father will
be in command.”

«Then he is aboard, isn’t he?” exclaimed
Bob, almost overpowered by excitement
and delight. “I was sure of it.”

“Of course, he’s here, but we foremost

;| bands ain't supposed to know it. And we

didn’t know it till we reached Cape Town,
and then we found it out by accident. He’s
got five good friends—seven now that you
and Ben have come.” *

“Eight,” said Bob, ‘‘counting in the dark
was came with us, He'll do anything for

en.”

“That will be enough,” said the sailor.
“We're going to shake ont the sails when
the last boat goes off this afternoon, and as
soon as that is done we'll be ready to begin
operations.”

“But how came my father here, and what
is the captain going to do with him?” asked

 

Boh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
        
      
    
    
    
     
      
       
    
   
  

 

 

 
 
 

 
 
  
    
 
  
  

 
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
    
 
  
  
     
 
   
   
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
 
 
    
  
   
  
  
  
    
 
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
  
    
     
   
    
 

84

GooDnD

NEWS.

   

 

 

ae anew

“T can’t tell what he means to do with him.
Mebbe he intends to leave him to starve on
some desert island, and mebbe he’s going
to watch a good chance to knock him over-
board. but he has waited too long to carry
out his plans, whatever they are. As to
how he came here that’s your uncle’s doings.
He wanted your father’s money, and not
having the courage to put him out of the
way himself, he hired the captain and his
first mate to do the work for him. They
stole him away from his home one dark
night, towed his boat about five miles out to
sea, and then knocked a hole in her and let
her go adrift, believing that she would bring
up somewhere on shore, and that folks
would think your father was drowned.
That’s the story in a few words, and I
couldn’t make it plainer if I should take an
hour.”

‘And things worked just as they hoped
they would,” said Bob. ‘‘My uncle has all
the property, and says my father willed it
to him. But who are these friends you
spoke of, and how aro you going to manage
to have them all left on board this after-
noon ?”

“Well, it took some thinking, that’s a
fact,” replied the sailor. ‘First, there’s the
second mate, you know. He’s a friend, and
he'll be left in charge of the ship this after-
noon. The only way I could manage to stay
aboard was to sprain my wrist so that I
couldn’t pull an oar, and had to be put on
light duty. All gammon, you know; but I
didn’t know what else to do. Then there’s
our doctor. Of course he'll be aboard, for
he'll be getting.supper. The others are Bret
and Jackson. Asthey belonged to the long-
boat’s crew it was a safe thing to bet that
they would be ashore when we wanted ’em
aboard, so what do they do this morning
but get up a sham fight and draw knives on
each other. They're in irons now in the
forecastle, and there they'll stay till we
want ’em.”

“Fore-top, there!” shouted the captain.
“Tt don’t take two of you to splice a rope,
does it? Lay down, boy.”

“Keep your eyes open, but say nothing to
nobody,” whispered Sweet, as Bob prepared
to descend to the deck. ‘Things are all
fixed, and you'll see your father th's after-
noon. But I say, Bob,” added the sailor,
hastily, “it would be better for you to let
go and fall down to the deck head first than
to go into the presence of the cap’n with
that smiling face. If he finds out who you
are, or you give him any reason to suspect
you, he'll knock our plans higher’n a kite.”

Bob’s exultation and impatience were so
great that ne could scarcely contain hiraself.
How would you feel, boy reader, if you
were suddenly to find yourself almost within
speaking distance of a father whom for
months you had believed to be dead? Bob
was obliged to keep his feelings under res-
traint and be constantly on his guard, lest
his thoughts should find expression in his
face, and be seen by some one who would
know how to interpret them.

The afternoon moved away on leaden
wings. That nothing had yet happened to
endanger the success of the plans that had
been formed for the release of Captain
Nellis, was evident from the encouraging
glances which Ben and Sweet bestowed upon
our hero every time they met him. It was
plain, too, that somebody had found op-
portunity to tell the second mate who Bob
was, for once when nobody was looking,
the officer slipped something into the boy’s
hand, and told him in a whisper to hold
himself in readiness to use it. It looked
like a broken key; and Bob, not knowing
what it was or what he was expected to do
with it, showed it to Ben and asked instruc-
tions.

“Tt’s the key to the irons on_those fellows
in the forecastle,” whispered the sailor.
‘Keep your eye on the mate, and he'll tell
you when to use it.” :

Bob promised compliance, and felt easier
after that. He had something to think about
now.

CHAPTER XXI.
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

HREE o'clock came at last, and the
order was given to shake out the sails.

It was accomplished in very much

less time than usual, and then the
boats all put off for their last trip to the
beach, the captain and first mate going with
them, and leaving no one but the mutineers
on board. The second mate stood leaning
over the rail watching the boats, and when
they touched the beach, he made a sign to
Bob who-darted into the forecastle. Two
turns with the key were enough to release
the prisoners, They hurried to the deck,
one stationing himself by the bitts in readi-
hess to unship the chain, and the other
his way under cover of the rail to

 

the place where the mate was standing. Just
then the door of the cabin was jerked open
and Captain Nellis appeared at the head of
the ladder.

The meeting of the father and son, who
had been so long separated, was a very affect-
ing one. The rough sailors, who were all
unused to tears, turned away as they wit-
nessed it, and drew their hands hastily
across their eyes. The rescued captain had
a kind wora and cordial grasp for every one
of the faithful fellows who had stood by him
in his troubles, but the greeting was short,
for there was still much to be done. Bob,
who had by this time learned to steer, was
sent to the wheel, the jib and topsails were
trimmed so that they began to draw, the
chain was slipped, and so quickly, and
quietly was it all done that not until the
noise the cable made in running through
the hawse-hole was heard, did the men on
the beach discover what was going on.
Then it was too late to attempt to recover
the ship, for she had already veered around
and was pushing her nose out tosea. They
could only stand and watch her in gloomy
silence until she became a mere speck in
the horizon, andthe darkness finally shut
her out from view. They were left to the
same fate they had doubtless had in store
for Captain Nellis. Whether they remamed
on the island or were taken off by some
passing vessel, Bob never knew, for he never
heard of them afterward.

There was a happy party at the supper
table in the cabin. of the Ajax that night,
consisting of our hero, his father, and old
Ben Watson. Kach had a long story to tell,
and many questions to ask. Captain Nellis
went into the details of his abduction, and
although he made a long story of it, it was
nothing more in substance than that which
Ben had already heard from Sweet and his
uncle Luther. He had been kept a close
prisoner in the cabin state-room for nearly
a year. So vigilant were his captors that he
had no opportunity to escape, and it was
only recently that he had managed to hold
communication” with the second mate
through the medium of notes which were
passed back and forth under his door,

The captain listened with great indigna-
tion to his son’s account of the interview he
had held with his uncle, and pronounced the
story of the will a falsehood from beginning
to end. He had made a will, and put it
among his private papers in his desk; but if
there was a codicil, it had been added since
he left home. He had but little to say re-
garding what he intended to do when he
reached Clifton, but Bob knew by the ex-
pression on his face that he would make it
warm for somebody.

Bob’s sailor life during the next few
months was very different from that which
he had hitherto led. There was no cat on
board his father’s vessel, no one ever saw a
belaying-pin or handspike put to any but
its legitimate use, or heard an oath uttered
by either officers or foremast hands. Tio Bob
if seemed as if he had somehow got into
another world, and he was as happy as he
wanted to be.

The ship made a short stop at Cape Town
to fill up her crew, and in due time arrived
off the headlands at the entrance to Clifton
Bay. There was a strong breeze blowing
off shore, and the Ajax, after trying in vain
to make the harbor, stood out to sea
again. During the night she spoke a
steamer bound in, and that act on the part
of her captain gave our story a different end-
ing than it would otherwise have had.

By daylight the gale abated so that the
ship made the harbor in safety. The
steamer had brought in the news that she
was outside, and there was a great crowd
on the wharf waiting to receive her and her
captain. Both father and son were greeted
as if they were risen from the dead; but
they withdrew from their friends as soon as
they could, and on their way home stopped
at a magistrate’s, where Captain Nellis
learned that those against whom he wished
to lodge a complaint were not to be found,
The ‘‘Sailor’s Snug Harbor,” which had been
in full blast the night before, was closed,
and Barlow and Samson, and even the dog,
Bull, had disappeared.

When the captain and Bob reached home,
they found there evidences of hasty flight
on the part of the former occupants of the
house. Papers and wearing apparel were
scattered about in great confusion, and
Bob’s ponies and carriage were missing.
The boy, enraged at the treatment his father
had received, suggested using the telegraph
and detectives; but the captain’s anger had
had time to cool, and he made no effort to
capture the runaways.

In a few days Bob’s ponies and carriage
were sent from the distant railway station,
to which Mr, Layton and his son had fled,
and he was so glad to get them, and every-
thing else had turned out so well, that he

 

     

finally fell in with his father’s opinion that
it was best to let the culprits go. They
would be outlaws and fugitives all the days
of their lives, and that would be punish-
ment as great as they were able to bear.

None of the mutineers of the Ajax were
forgotten. The second mate was placed in
command of the ship, with Sweet for his
first officer, and all the others were abun-
dantly provided for. Old Ben took posses-
sion of his little cottage again, the other
missing servants quickly turned up, and in
a week’s time the house began to wear its
old accustomed look once more.

Bob went back to the academy at the
beginning of the next school year, and is it
any wonder that he found himself a hero
there? The students never grew weary of
listening to his adventures. He had much
to tell, and certainly he had no reason to
regret that he had once been A SAILOR IN
SPITE OF HIMSELF.

[THE END. ]

What Shall Our Boys Do?

BY CHARLES BARNARD,

3—The Florist.

  
  

    

STAHE business of raising flowers for the
the market is comparatively new. Forty
th), years ago stores for selling natural
= flowers were almost unknown. Hor-
ticulture, or ‘“‘garden culture,” has been a
well-known art for more than three thousand
years, and perhaps flowers have been sold
in a small way insome European cities for
a long time; but the flower trade, as now
carried on in New York and vicinity, is
quite a business.

The florists are divided into two classes,
the growers, who cultivate the flowers, and
the retailers, who sell the flowers in the
stores. In some instances a man may be
both a grower and retailer, but the two
trades are commonly followed by two dis-
tinct sets of men and women. The store-
keeper buys flowers at wholesale, makes
them up into various shapes, and sells them
at retail. This is a manufacture and need
not be considered.

The grower carries on his business in the
country, a few miles from the city, at some
place where he can. send in his flowers
quickly every day. ‘The farmer has a large
farm of many acres ; the gardener uses from
one to ten acres; but the florist conducts
his business in a building with a glass roof,
and he only needs a very small piece of
ground for a garden, For this reason he
often locates his place in the midst of a vil-
lage, or in some small town or city.

The business is divided into two branches
—plant growing and flower raising. Flowers
are raised under glass, and are cut as soon
as they bloom, and must then be sent to the
city and sold. Plants are raised in small
flower-pots in the spring, and are sold in
May and June tor the gardens. Besides
this spring trade in garden plants, there is
a fall trade in house plants. Sometimes
these two branches are carried on in one
establishment, but in many cases the florist
raises nothing but flowers, and often raises
only one kind of flower like roses, violets,
or carnations. The flower business extends
through the whole year, but is most active
from October to June. The work extends
through the whole year in somewhat this
way: In the spring the plants for the next
season are set out in the garden, or put out
of doors in their pots. All summer the
plants must be cultivated with care, and in
September they must be taken up and
removed to the houses. The winter’s work
then begins, and every plant has to be
watched and tended with the utmost care
every day; fresh air must be given every
pleasant day and water supplied at regular
intervals. Nothing can be omitted or post-
poned, and a single hour’s neglect may ruin
the whole business for a year. In Novem-
ber fires must be started and kept up, day
and night, till May, when the whole work
begins again. If plants are raised the work
begins in January and continues till June,
when the stock of plants is sold. The rest
of the year the plant trade is dull, except
for a few weeks in October, and there is not
much work to be done.

_ The workmen in this business are divided
into three classes. First, the laborers, who
do the heavy work of digging, shoveling
coal, planting, and watering. Secondly,
the gardeners, who perform the finer work
of potting, tending, and pruning the plants,
culling the flowers, watching the tempera-
ture of the houses, and giving the plants
any other attentions they need. Lastly, are
the propagators, who attend to the fine

 
 

 

work of making slips or cuttings, planting
seeds, and the more delicate work of the

 

business. All of this work is comparatively
light, excepting the shoveling and digging,
and much of it is even performed by girls
and women, The pay, near New York,
varies from $1.50 to $2.50 a day for laborers,
from $2 to $3 a day for gardeners, and from
$50 to $100 a month, and sometimes more,
for good propagators. Skillful gardeners,
who know all the branches of the business,
who can take care of greenhouses and
grape-houses, sometimes get even better
wages as foremen and superintendents.

The profits of the business cannot be
exactly estimated, but steady and indus-
trious men who begin with very small
places, have been known to lay aside some-
thing handsome every year, and some of
the men in the business have undoubtedly
become independent by selling roses, violets,
and other flowers.

You may say this is all very welt, but
land and houses cost money. That is true,
and yet there are men in the business who
have fine places and that a few years since
hadn’t a cent in the world. They began at
the bottom, perhaps as helpers, when they
were boys. ‘They picked up the rudiments
of the business, and in time, learned more
and got better ano better places. All the
time they saved what they could, and finally,
they got enough to make part payment on a
little piece of cheap land. They contrived
to put up a very small house and to collect
afew plants. They worked hard and multi-
plied their stock as fast as possible and sold
every thing they could raise. By slow de-
grees they paid off their debts, and in
course of time were owners of a good place
and trade.

This is the only road. Begin as a worker,
learn the business, and then set up for your-
self. Even if you never have a place, it is a
good trade, and a business that is steadily
growing. ‘There is only one way to succeed
in this, or in any business. You must bea
first-class man ; you must be able to do the
work better than the average men in the
trade. To be a first-class florist, and to
command a high pay, you must study the
nature and habits of the plants, and must
know something of the effects of heat and
moisture on plant life. You must read all
the best books on the subject, and you
must work, at least, three years in some
good commercial greenhouse. Take up the
cutting knife, learn to read the thermometer,
learn all the names and origin, the native
countries, and habits of plants. and, above
all, learn to think for yourself. This is
really one of the most scientific trades in
the world, and some of the great florists
like Sir Joseph Banks, Paxton, Dr. Lindly
and others in England, and Wilder, Moore,
Downing, and Henderson in this country,
have been very learned and highly culti-
vated gentlemen.

Some of the firms in the business have
enormous establishments, and do an exten-
sive business, selling often in one year
many hundred thousand plants, and thous-
ands of dollars’ worth of cut flowers. The
florist must be a man of thought, and he
must be wide-awake and ready to try new
plants and new inventions. He cannot go
on merely doing the same thing all
the time, with no wish to improve himself
and his stock, or he will soon come to grief.
He must be a reading man and a steady
worker, and if he is all this, he is almost
sure to earn good wages, or to become the
owner of a good business.

The chief disadvantages of the trade come
from the perishable nature of the goods.
They must be sold as soon as they ure pro-
duced, or they will be a total loss. Besides
this, flowers are a luxury. People only buy
them when they feel they have the money
to spare, and in dull times the trade often
comes to a dead-lock. These are the risks
of the trade, but they are no more serious
than the risks in many other trades, and, to
offset them, the profits of the business are
good, and the sales are always for cash.

——— ee

Centaurs.

O satisfactory derivation of the name
has yet been given. In Greek my-
thology they were beings part horse,
part man; that is, a horse had its

head and neck replaced by the head and

body of a man down to the waist. In the
case of the Centaurs, whose home was in the
mountains and wooded regions with wild
torrents, chiefly in Thessaly and Arcadia,
the horse may have been chosen either as
symbolic of the impetuosity of streams and
winds, or from the circumstance of such
districts being favorable for horse rearing.

Pan, for instance, the spirit of rocky hills,

was imagined as having goat’s legs, and

Scylla, the spirit of sea-storms, as having

the body and tail of a fish. In most cases

the animal adjunct was made to supersede
the human legs,

 

 
 

 

   

Goonyp

copter

NEWS.

 
 
 

 

shag

(SOs RRR RR Te RM aes RE EE SME) a

85

 

HEAR MUCH, BUT SAY LITTLE.

detect Aptlicaconiia

BY FRANCIS 8. SMITH,
- iat

“Hear much, but say little,” my masters
You'll find it an axiom strong—
’T will save you from many disasters,
As you journey life’s pathaway along.
Get what knowledge you can from your neighbor.
But if he speaks ill of a foe,
Be silent—let not your tongue labor,
’Tis none of your business, you know,

“Hear much, but say little’—you'll find it
A wise thicg to bridle your speech—
There’s freedom from trouble behind it—
Tis better to practice than preach.

If you meet with a wise man or scholar,
And out in his company walk,

Let your mind his grand ideas follow,
For you nothing will learn if you talk.

ON LAND AND SEA:

California in the Years 1843, “44 and °44,

By WILLIAM H. THOMES,

Author of “The Golu-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.,

Reece Se

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

be Ba Cotas.
SYNOPSIS.

On the 27th of October, 1842, Thom, as the au-
thor calls his hero, joined the crew of the Admit-
tance, of Boston, and set sail for California. The
vessel was commanded by Peter Peterson. The
name of the chief mate was Prentice. Mr. David-
son was 2d mate, and Mr. Goodhue 3d mate. Thom
was fifteen years of age, and there were five other
boys in the crew--a French lad, called Lewey,
and Bill, Tom, Harry, and Frank. The steward
was a mulatto, and Chips was the carpenter, On
the forty-first day after leaving Boston the Ad-
mittance was spoken by a slaver from the coast
of Africa. The captain of the slaver wanted a cask
of water, but as Captain Peterson would not give
it to him, he invited Peterson to partake of some
wine and cigars on board the slaver. A boat was
lowered and manned, and Captain Peterson was
rowed off to the slaver. The captain of the slaver
entertained the captain in a royal manner for
some time, at the end of which acask of water
was towed from the Admittance tothe slaver, and
the two vessels parted company and resumed
their respective routes.

ge

CHAPTER II.—(Continvep. )

       
 

S I have said, the doctor was very
superstitious, and had rather a sus-
picious eye toward the carpenter,
one of the best old fellows that
ever lived, and who would net have in-
jured a mouse. He was a Swede, and a
Swede is half Fin, in the opinion of mari-
ners, and I have known black cooks to re-
fuse to sail in a vessel on which they
knew a Norwegian had shipped. Our doc-
tor always had his suspicions of Chips, be-
cause, as he contended, a Fin could bring
all manner of disasters on us, if he was so
disposed. He could cause head winds,
calms, gales, and raise the duse generally,
unless he had his own way, and the cook re-
lated several instances of the magical work-
ing, and the power of certain foreign sailors
he had known, all of which we boys listened
to, and half believed. But we had no fear
of old Chips, for he was always our friend,
and drank our water, and told us stories
that were very amusing.

But at last we determined to do something
that would frighten the doctor out of the
steerage, and give us a quiet life fora while,
at least. One evening, when Cushing was
with us, he made a suggestion which de-
lighted the heart of that bad boy, Lewey. It
was nothing less than to personate a ghost,
a frighful-looking monster, that would make
the doctor turn white with fear, and leave
us in peace,

Lewey claimed the part of ghost at once,

)

and agreed to get up the most horrible-look- |
= oD :

ing mask that any boy had ever seen, and
all that he required Mr. Cushing to furnish
was a white sheet from the cabin, and a bit
of phosphorus from the medicine chest.
The things were promised, and the French
lad set to work, in the dog watches below.
He made from some thick, cotton-duck
canvas a mask, with monstrous ears, and
then, from a paint-box, which he owned,
and used occasionally to produce a represen-
tation that he would label a ship, or a man,
although it was difficult to tell one from the
other, marked out the most terrible eyes,
mouth, beard, and eyebrows, while, with
spun-yarn, he arranged springs that con-
nected with the ears, and could thus work
the same, causing them to flap up and
down in a manner that reminded one of
the ears of amule when flies are plentiful
and the weather is warm.

 

There were four of us in the secret,
Cushing, Lewey, Tom Butler, and myself,
for we did not dare to let the rest of the
boys know of our enterprise, for fear they
would inadvertently let fall some words that
would betray us to the doctor or the officers.

After a few days the preparations were
completed, and we were all ready on the
night of the twenty-third of December. The
larboard watch was on deck from eight to
twelve, and our watch below from twelve till

four in the morning. It was blowing a gale |

at the time, and we were under close-reefed
topsails, foresail, foretop-mast  stay-sail,
and main spencer, and the ship was just

humming along, with the wind free, and our |
course south-west by south, in latitude 43 |
deg., heading almost directly for the north- !

erly part of Staten Island, or Itooroop, as it
is sometimes called. It was a good night
for our experiment, as the ship groaned,
the timbers creaked, and the wind howled
through the rigging, as if to warn us of the
trouble we were to encounter before we got
to the other side of the land. The doctor
was so happy, under the influence of the
gale, that he sat a long time in his galley,
toasted his shins, ate at intervals, sang his
usual songs, and then went to the steerage,
and turned in.

By eight bells the doctor was on the full
tide of his nightmare. He was groaning,
and yelling, and calling upon the Lord to
save him, when we went below.

Instead of treating him unkindly we let

him yell, and waited for Mr. Cushing to’

make his appearance. He came at last,

his astonished eyes fell upon the apparition
by his side.

Lewey flapped his ears, and groaned, as
he exhibited his flaming tongue, and then
Cushing and I uttered the most discordant |
sounds.

“Oh, now the debble hab me!” and, with
a yell that could be heard on deck, the |
doctor bounded from his berth, tore up the
steps, rushed forward, and fell on his knees,
| in the midst of the startled watch assembled

during the passage, for if the doctor cut up
rough in his galley, the mate would order a
bucket of water to be dashed through the
cracks of the door, and that would bring the
old fellow to his senses.

Our secret was well kept, and the next
day the mask was pitched overboard, and
thus all trace of our work was lost.

On Sunday, December 25, we did not wish
each other a ‘‘Merry Christmas,” for the
weather was quite cold, a thick fog was all

 

around the windlass.

around us, the decks were wet and slippery,

| Mr. Davidson heard the scream, and saw | and there was only a slight breeze blowing,

_ the doctor dart forward. He followed him
Mr. Cushing took advantage of the second
mate’s absence to seize the sheet, rush up
the steps, and gain his state-room, while
Lewey stowed the mask under his mattress,
and then bolted into his berth, and I fol-
lowed his example. Harry and Chips had
not awakened during the noise, so there
was no fear of their betraying us.

‘Say, boys,” cried Tom, whose watch was
on deck, coming half way down the steps,
“Peter is up, and wants to know what the
duse the noise is all about. Keepmum. The
doctor is in a fit.”

The boys sometimes very irreverently
called Captain Peterson ‘‘Peter,” but never
when he was near enough to hear it, it is
useless to say.

It was blowing so hard we could not hear
the old man’s voice, but, after a while, we
saw some one coming down the steps, with
a lantern in his hand, and in an instant
Lewey began to snore in French, and I

 

 

 

 

 

I LOOKED DOWN AND THE EYES OF

 

THE UNHAPPY SLAVES MET MINE IN A

MUTE APPEAL FOR WATER AND AIR.

gliding down the steps, and reported that
the old man was snug in his berth, snoring
fearfully, and that the second mate was aft,
looking to the helmsman, to see that he
steered small, and that we could go on with
our circus as soon as we pleased,

He produced the sheet, and a small bot-
tle of phosphorus, while Lewey commenced
operations. He put on the mask, arranged
the sheet, and then rubbed the fiery com-
pound on the canvas, until he looked as un-
earthly as a disguised human being can
look, and not be a devil.

As we knew that no ordinary noise, or
kicks, or cuffs, could awaken the doctor,
Cushing proposed to light a match, hold it
to his nose, and thought that it would start
him, while I was to stand at the foot of the
steps, and groan in an agonizing sort of
way, and keep watch that the second mate
did not come near us, and interfere in our
business, as he might do.

‘All veddy,” whispered Lewey, as we put
on the last of the phosphorus. I must con-
fess that. the boy did not look inviting as he
flapped his monstrous artificial ears, and
opened his fiery mouth, and exposed a
tongue, six inches long, and red as paint
could make it.

“Afore de Lord nigger neber do it agin,”
groaned the cook, and just then Mr. Cush-
ing struck a match, and held it to the doc-
tor’s nose.

He gasped, struggled, groaned, kicked, and
muttered half asleep:

“De debble got me now! I smell de sul-
phur, sure!” and, rolling over in his bunk,

 

gave a very good specimen of American hard
sleeping.
| From one corner of my eyes I saw that
the visitor was the captain. He flashed the
lantern in my face, and there observed noth-
| ing but angelic peace, and sweet innocence.
He looked alittle suspicious, as though dis-
posed to doubt my external signs of good-
ness. However, at length he moved away,
thank fortune, or I should have laughed in
his face in a moment. Then he turned the
light of the lantern on that bad Lewey, and
no wonder he hesitated as to whether the
boy was as innocent as he seemed. At last,

satisfied that no one could snore as the
French lad was snoring, and be awake, he
looked over Harry and Chips, then stood,
and thought of the matter, holding on by
an iron stanchion.

“T vonder,” he mused, “if dem boys has
been up tosome of der tricks. No, I guess
not. Dey all sleep sound. De cook must
be crazy. Tlllam him if he vakes me up
) again,” and up the steps the old man went,
‘then walked the deck for half an hour, and
/ after the doctor had revived, by the aid ofa
| bucket of cold water, the captain cross-
| questioned him, but could learn nothing ex-

cept that the devil had ee i, to him,
tried to carry him off, and that he believed
‘the ship was haunted; all of which so dis-
| gusted the old man, that he swore that he
would rope’s end the negro if he made an-
other such row in the night, or at any other
time. Then the doctor asked permission to
sleep in his galley for a while, which was
granted, and we had no more midnight cries

but it was fair, and we made some progress.

' to see what the row was all about, andthen ' Our latitude, by dead reckoning, was 47 deg.

south, and our longitude 62 deg west. At
' noon it was still foggy and the captain ordered
| a cast of the deep sea lead, or ‘‘dip’sey lead,”
| as the sailors call it for short. The ship was
| brought up to the wind, the maintopsail
|thrown aback, so that the vessel would re-
main stationary, and then one of the men
took his station on the lee cat-head, with
the lead and line in his hands.

“All ready ?” cried the captain from the
quarter-deck to the mate.

“All ready, sir,” answered Mr. Prentice,
and took his station in the mizzen-rigging,
with a snatch block over his head, so that
the line could run out freely.

‘‘Heave,” the captain shouted,

‘‘Heave,” yelled the mate.

“Watch, oh, watch, and heave,” bellowed
the sailor on the cat-head, and he pitched
the heavy, thirty pounds of lead forward as
far as he could, and let the line fall from his
hands.

“Watch, oh watch, shrieked English Jack
in the main chains, as he let go the few flakes
of line which he held, and then grumbled at
such lubberly work, when there was no bot-
tom to be found at a depth of five thousand
fathoms, as he declared.

“Watch, oh watch,” mildly cried the
third mate, in the mizen-chains, for the old
man was looking at him, and it would not
answer to be boisterous in his presence.

Then the mate held the line up and down
for a moment, raised it once or twice, and
made amotion to the second mate to haul
in.
“Bottom, sir, at eighty fathoms,” Mr.
Prentice reported, and then all hands
clapped on to the line, and stamped along
the deck with it, while one man coiled it
down.

If any one thinks it is easy to haul ina
deep-sea lead, with eighty fathoms of line
attached, when it is cold and freezing
weather, let him trv it, and then he will alter
his opinion. It is about as disagreeable
work as asailor can be called upon to per-
form, and every one on a ship is glad after
the duty is over, unless it is when you are
homeward bound, and near the American
coast.

In the afternoon the sun came out, and
then all hands commenced to get the ship
ready to weather Cape Horn. The flying
jib-boom was run in, the royal yards sent
down—the boys had that job—the fore and
mizzen topgallant yards followed, and then
down came the long and tapering spars,
royal-masts and topgallant masts being one
piece, and the new cotton®duck topsails were
got ready t o bend the next day, and the

eavy foresail and mainsail were overhauled
and examined. We had work enough for the
crew of a man-of-war, instead of a merchant-
man.

Mighty tired we all were when we knocked
off labor at four bells, or six o’clock, and
got our suppers, and that night a gale sprung
up from the southward and westward, and
we had to be called during the middle watch,
and close reef the topsails, and afterward
furl everything except the close-reefed main-
top-sail, the foresail, and the foretopmast-
staysail. Oh, there’s lots of fun,going to sea,
but I have never yet been able to discover
the point of the joke, especially in cold, wet
weather, and in the vicinity of Cape Horn.

The next day the two quarter boats and
pinnace were taken in on the poop deck
and securely lashed, and now farewell to all
who fall overboard, for there is no hope for
them. The boats are not available for use
under an hour’s hard work, and what man
could live in such a sea as we encountered
day after day, dressed in heavy clothing,
‘and thick boots on his feet? For a few
hours we squeezed the rigging a little harder
than usual while going aloft, and then be-
came as careless as ever, and did not give
| the matter a thought.
| December 30 we sighted the bleak and in-
‘hospitable shore of Staten Island, about
twenty miles distant. We were to the east-
|ward of it, between the Falkland Islands
‘and Staten Island, and for a while it did
'seem as though we should get around Cape

Horn without much delay, for the ship was
‘going along at the rate of twelve knots an
hour, under single-reefed top-sails, but as
lwe drew toward the southern end of the

 

 

 

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86

GoonD

NEW S.

 

island, the wind headed us, then died away
to a calm, and all the afternoon we were
close to the land, and rolled and pitched

until it seemed as though the motion of the |
ship would jerk our heads off, and some of

the boys and men were sea-sick.

We could see on the island mountains
covered with snow, great ravines filled with
ice, rough, ragged rocks, on which the surf
beat white with foam, and, while I was at
the wheel, because the ship did not have
steerageway, Captain Peterson came aft to
take his bearings for the night, and said:

‘Vell, Thom, how would you like to land
there !”

‘‘Very much, sir,” I answered.

“Vell, you von’t, not this trip,” and the
old man smiled, andI smiled in return.

About eight bells, or four o’clock in the
afternoon, we noticed at the edge of the
horizon, in the south-west, a black cloud,
not larger, it appeared, than the one Ham-
let saw. ‘The captain watched it carefully,
then the mates, then the men, and of course
the boys. All knew what it meant, or at
least that portion of the crew who had been
around Cape Horn, and were accustomed to
its pranks, and the course of its gales,

In ten minutes the cloud was the size of
the State House. In twenty it seemed about
as large as Boston Common, and then the
voice of the captain was heard, hard and
strong:

“Knock off york, Mr. Prentice, and muster
all hands to take in sail. Haul down de
jib, and furl it, and see that extra gaskets
are passed around de sailand boom, Brail
up de spanker, and haul up de mainsail,
and stow it securely. Let the topsail yards
down on de caps, and haul out de reef-
tackles. Up with de foresail, lively, men,
and put a reef in it. Lay aloft, and stow
de mainsail, and put three reefs in the main-
topsail. You boys, up you go, and put two
reefs in de mizzentop sail, and then furl it
snug, so thatit von’t blow avay.” ;

Here was plenty of work, but we went at
it with a will. Even Mr. Cushing and the
steward were called upon to help us lads on
the mizzentopsail yard.

As we ran up the rigging I turned my head
to look at the dark cloud in the south-west.
It had grown wonderfully in the last few
minutes, but there was not a breath of air
stirring aloft, and I fancied that [could hear
the roaring of the surf on the rock-bound
coast of the island. All around us_ were
Cape Horn pigeons, and huge, majestic
albatrosses, which came close to us, and
then set their expanded wings, and examined
each person on deck, or aloft, their sharp,
piercing eyes seeing the most minute par-
ticle of grease on the surface of the water,
while away off in the distance I could hear
the hoarse calling of a penguin, as it made
its way toward the land, to resf for the
night, and escape from the coming gale.

The Cape pigeons screamed, and seemed
elated at the prospect of a stiff breeze, for it
is little they care for wind, 9r snow, or
sleet. They can defy all, and never seem to
tire while on the wing, night or day, diving
for a bitof refuse matter from the ship, and
then skirting off before the breeze to eat the
morsel in peacegif able to escape pursuit
from envious companions.

All this I saw ata glance, but I had no
time for poetry or day dreams. The old
man had one eye in our direction, and an-
other on the main yard, and his voice was
heard all over the ship. I got to one of the
ear-rings, with Lewey at the dog’s ear, and
Tom Butler and Harry were at the other,
and the way we gathered up the sail, and
put in the two reefs, and then furled it, in
a& ship-shape manner, would have done
honor to the crew-of a ten-gun_ brig-of-war,
the meanest thing a man could sail in in
those days. There are none of them now
afloat. Most of them went to the bottom,

We lay down, after we had finished our
work, and were rewarded by a grim smile
from the old man, and a ‘‘Vell done, boys,”
a compliment that we appreciated, for he
would flatter no one, and never praise un-
less it was deserved, all the time I was with
him. .

“Up there, lads, and put a close reef in
the foretop sail, and then furl it,” cried Mr.
Prentice, and away we went, with two able
seamen to look afterthe ear-rings, and by
the time we had finished, a streak of cold air
struck us, and a drop of rain fell. I glanced
down on deck, and saw Chips disappear jin
the steerage. He had scented water, and
gone after his tin quart pot.

‘Put a reef in the foresail before you
come down,” roared the mate, and we piled
on the yard, and gathered up the sail, and
then there was another little puff of cold
air, and more drops of rain.

“Be lively, lads,” the mate called out
from the deck. ‘This south-wester is com-
ing butt-end foremost.”

e worked like sailors and men, and then

 

came a strong blast of wind, cold as the
Antarctic regions could furnish for that time
of year, and a few flakes of snow fell on our
hands, andsome hailstones followed the
snow, and the ship began to feel the in-
fiuence of the breeze, to yield her sides to
the steady pressure, and to forge slowly
through the water, heading to the southward
and eastward. We put in the reef, and got
on deck just as the hailstones began to rattle
about our heads, and on our hands, bare
and unprotected, for you can’t work aloft
with mittens, as every finger has to be a
fish-hook to hold on with, or overboard or
on deck you go, either drowned or broken
bones being your fate.

We boarded the foretack, and hauled aft
the sheet, and then got a good pull on the
weather braces, to support the yards, and
when we had finished all of the hard work,
it was four bells, or six o’clock, and plenty
of daylight, for it was not dark until after
nine in the latitudein which we were at that
time of year.

Then the gale struck us fairly, and madé
everything surge in its fury. Hail, snow,
rain, and wind poured down upon and al-
most blinded us. We had to get under the
bulwarks, and could not even look to the
windward. The ship had too much sail,
and I feared the canvas that was already
spread would tear away from the bolt-ropes,
but it was new and stout, and stood the test
very well, indeed, better than was expected,

‘‘Man the weather main brace,” roared the
old man. He saw that the ship was over-
weighted, but did not dare to start tack or
sheet, for the sails would have flapped to
rags before we could have secured them.

He waved his hand to the man at the
wheel to put the helm hard up, and as the
maintopsail was rounded in, the ship fell
off like a pilot boat in a smooth sea, and we
were racing before the wind, and huge waves
roaring after us, and threatening to come on
board, fill the decks with water, and poop
the ship. The Admittance was a splendid
sea-going craft, and she slipped from under
the billows like a duck, and away we went
due north, until we were once more wnder
the lee of Staten Island, and then very care-
fully, the ship was rounded to, and we were
again on the wind. Still, it was blowing a
fearful gale, and the foresail had to be taken
in and furled, and the old man gave the
order:

“Clew up de foresail, Mr. Prentice, and
be careful how you start de tack and sheet,
or it vill get avay from you. Better take de
lee clew first, and smother de sail vith de
buntlines afore you let go de fore-tack.”

‘Ay, ay, sir,” was the response, although
the old man could not have heard it. As the
chief mate was a good sailor, he mustered
all hands to the clewlines and buntlines,
then eased off the lee sheet very carefully.
Although the canvas flapped, and the fore-
yard quivered, up went the sail, was held in
place by the clewline and buntlines, and
then the fore-tack was started, and we
gathered it in, and the job was done, with-
out so much as the breaking of a rope-yarn.

But, although the sail was clewed up, it
was not furled. It was all to the leeward,
and slatting furiously, so a dozen hands
were ordered aloft to secure it. We found
this no easy job, for the wind pinned us to
the rigging, and the cruel hail beat on our
faces, and cut our hands, and the stiff,
frozen canvas tore off our finger-nails, and
mauled us with the bolt-ropes.

The second mate was in the bunt with old
Jones, the third mate and English Jack
were next to them, and they worked as men
have to work in agale up aloft. I was on the
weather yard-arm, wishing that I was at
home, and in bed. I did not have much to
do where i was, but helped to pass a strong
gasket, and then turned my back to the blast,
and watched the Cape pigeons and the alba-
tross, as they sailed near us upon wings that
were outstretched and immovable, caring
nothing for the hail or the gale, and shriek-
ing their delight at every fresh squall of
snow and sleet that showered down upon
our heads, and wet us through and through.

But we conquered at last, and as we
reached the deck, English Jack, the grumbler,
said with an oath that would not read nicely:

‘Well, this is the last time I ever set my
foot on salt water, and Pll murder the man
who ever asks me to ship for another voyage
around Cape Horn, This is the meanest old
hooker that ever sailed the ocean, and not
adrop of grog to keep out the cold. The
last ship I was in we had the main-brace
Spliced every time we reefed topsails, but

eréa man might die, and not get a smell of
ee and dang me if I don’t cut at the first

ort,”

He would have said more, but was called
away to help put fresh lashings on the spars,
the galley, the pig-pen, and other objects
that were likely to be moved by the seas
coming on board, and it was not until seven

     

bells, or half-past seven o’clock, that the
mate proclaimed everything all right, and
told the doctor to give the people their
supper, and glad enough we were to get it,
for we were coldand hungry, tired and wet,
bleeding and faint.

The ship was now ‘‘lying to,” as easily as
a pilot boat, under the lee of the island, and
the seas did not break over her as much as
when we were exposed to the whole sweep
of the South Atlantic Ocean, and so the
| night wore away; but still it blowed heavily,
and the next morning there was no abate-
ment of the gale.

A sail was sighted to the windward, com-
ing down on us like a race-horse, a big lump
of a ship, with close-reefed maintopsail,
|and reefed foresail and fore-top-mast-stay
sail, She was a noble sight as she buried
her nosein the ocean, clear up to the knight-
heads, taking on board tons of water at every
plunge, and then settling her stern down
until it was lost to view, and a mighty wave
would seem to threaten to sink the vessel
out of sight. She appeared to slide along
quite easily, just escaping the avalanche of
water, and the next minute show her bright
copper, and nearly her keel, as she rolled
from side to side.

Two men were at the wheel. We could see
them very plainly as the ship passed, about
a cable’s length from us, directly astern,
and we read on the quarter-boards the name
of Edward Everett, the very vessel I after-
ward owned an interest in, and in which I
went to California the second time, in 1849.
She was homeward bound, freighted with
copper ore, from Chili, and her master was
making her walk as she had never walked
before, since her keel was laid. She was
loaded very deep, and steered wild. The
men at the wheel had discarded their jackets,
and stood in their shirt sleeves, cold as it
was, and I had no doubt that they found
their task a warm one, The least careless-
ness of the helmsmen would have caused
the ship to broach to, and then away would
have gone her masts, and the ship to the
bottom.

The captain of the Edward Everett read
our name on the stern, and waved his hand
to us, and Captain Peterson returned the
salute, and muttered:

‘‘By dunder, he had better mind his eye,
or down he goes;” but no accident happened
to the noble ship, as she arrived safe and
sound, and reported us near Cape Horn, in
a gale of wind, making good weather of if.

Now we had watch and watch, because
we could not keep at work on deck, but
the mate’s vivid imagination found some-
thing for us todo, He had the men whose
turn it was to be on duty down in the steer-
age, and set us to work ripping up old
sails, and patching good ones, and doing
many things which we could do under shel-
ter. This wasto keep the sailors occupied,
and prevent them from grumbling at the
weather, the ship, and the grub. Idle men
are always unhappy, and busy ones have no
time to think of hard fate and fare.

But at last the gale abated, and we made
sail, only to be again driven back to the
shelter of the island; but we gained at last,
mile by mile, and one morning we were near
the Diego Islands, off the very pit of Cape
Horn.

On one of them I have a brother buried,
he having lost his life while seal hunting,
and was interred on that bleak, barren, and
inhospitable spot. The poor fellow was in-
jured while turning over a surf boat, one of
the thole-pins striking his side, near the
heart, causing a wound which occasioned his
death, as he bled internally, atid there was
no help for him within two thousand miles.
His relatives sent out grave-stones, with
name and age cut on them, by an uncle, the
master of a sealing schooner, from Stoning-
ton, Connecticut, but we never heard if the
stones were set up, for the uncle died in a
South American port, on the passage out,
and the rest of the officers seemed to have
lost all interest in the matter. If they were
erected over the remains, it is probable that
time and the elements have destroyed all
traces of the marble tablets. Perhaps some
retired sealer, who has passed a few months
on the largest of the Diegos, hunting for
seals, may know something of the subject
and give me the information so much de-
sired.

I looked. long and earnestly at the bleak
spot, and thought of my brother's death,
and, while Captain Peterson was examining
the island by the aid of the ship’s glass I was
called aft to coil up some ropes, and asked
him if he could see any signs of grave-stones.

“Vot de duse do you mean, Thom?” he
demanded, looking at me in astonishment.

‘‘Because, sir, I haye a brother buried on
the island, and his parents sent out. grave-
aed and I didn’t know but you could see

em.

 

The old man did not speak, but he took a

 

long and earnest look at the shore and then
said, in a very gentle tone:

“No, Thom, I don’t see de stones. Poor

| fellow, to be shelved dare, vere de storm is
| raging from one year’s end to de other. Ve
| ’ . .

} can’t all be buried vere ve vish, but your

 

 

brother sleeps just as quiet dare as he vould
in Mount Auburn, vid roses at his head and
a veeping villow at his feet, and ven de
Judgment Day comes along he von’t be for-
got out here any more den he vould at home.
Now go and get a squilgee, and scrape de
vater off de side of de quarter-deck, and
be lively about it,”

I have no doubt but that he gave the order,
in his usual stern tone, to divert my thoughts
from the dead, and perhaps he did, for I had
no recolletion of the lost brother, he having
died when I was too young to remember
him. At any rate, the souilgee was used
with effect, and all that forenoon, while we
were becalmed, I had frequent glimpses of
the island, and I was not sorry when, at
twelve bells, a light breeze sprung up from
the south-east, and we were soon running
before the wind with squared yards, and as
the breeze increased, the old man and the
rest of us grew more and more anxious, for
fear that it would chop around to the south-
west and head us off our course.

‘Never mind de dinner, Mr. Prentice,”
cried the captain. ‘‘Set all hands to vork
making sail. Out vid de studding sails,
alow and aloft. Be lively, for ve must gain
all that ve can vid this vind.”

The ship was headed due north-west, and,
as we set the topmast studding-sails, we
found that we were likely to have lively
work before night, for the wind continued
to gradually increase, and the ship to tear
through the water at the rate of ten knots
an hour.

“Never mind dat lower studding-sail, Mr.
Prentice,” the old man said. ‘‘Ve vill have
all the vind ve vants afore long, for the bas
rometer is falling fast.”

We did have a fresh gale, and it carried
us clear around the Cape, away down 40
deg. south, before itleft us. We were just
twenty-one days in attempting to get into
the Pacific from the Atlantic, with bad
weather all the time.

As soon as the cold and storms would per-
mit we sent up our tall, slender spars,
crossed royal, and topgallant yards, and
once more all hands were on deck during
the long afternoons. We had the usual
number of heavy rains, when the carpenter
caught gallons of water, and thanked Heaven
for his good luck, and then we struck the
southern trades, and, with all sail spread,
alow and aloft, we glided quietly toward the
line, and in the three weeks of pleasant
weather, like paradise, we changed sails,
painted the ship inside and out, masts and
spars, tarred down, and put the vessel in the
most perfect order for port; Chips, under
the old man’s direction, built. a store-room
in the steerage, with shelves and counters,
to accommodate the Mexican people who
would come on board to trade, and all hands
were kept busy from morning until night.

About this time Lewey conceived a bril-
liant idea. . Every evening a dozen or more
boobies would alight on our yards, and go
to sleep, and the French lad became con-
vinced that the birds could be domesticated,
and made useful, I agreed to assist him in
the experiment, and each night we made a
raid on the slumbering boobies, capturing
quite a number, and confined them in the
empty hen-coops stowed in the long-boat
with the mate’s consent, although we had to
promise that he should have one of the fat-
test for the cabin table, as soon as the fowls
were in a proper state to kill and dress,
and Mr. Prentice’s black eyes danced with
fun, as he exacted the conditions from us,
while we expected to have fresh poultry in
our mess for the remainder of the passage,
How our experiment ended I will tell in the
next chapter, for we did not reap the ben-
efits we anticipated, after all our labor and
pains to improve the booby stork by close
feeding and generous treatment. For once
we were baffled by a stupid lot of sea-birds,
that didn’t know when they were well off,
and in what Christian hands they had fallen.

(TO BE CONTINUED. )
——___ -~4-_-o@__-_———-
Order No.7 of Goop News from your

newsdealer in advance, as it will contain some-

thing new in the line of base-ball pictures.
—_—_-_~>-e-» —____

A TENNESSEE girl, riding on the cars, crossed
the aisle, kicked a young man up against the win-
dow, and remarked: :

“I was brung up never to allow a yeller-eyed
man to wink at me.”

Ir you are at church of a Sunday evening in
August without a fan, Cast about your eye until
it lights on an engaged couple, and, when you see
how close they snug up together, you will lose in
a great degree a sense of the heat,

 

   

 
    

Fath a

   
      
  

 

 

A HOME RUN.

Senate?

BY H. C. DODGE.

* What is the similarity,
Miss Ethel,” asked the beau,
“Between a game of ball and me ?”
Yawned Ethel, ‘I don’t know.”

“Why, it’s a match, of course,” grinned he,
With idiotic bliss,

“In which a missis caught, you see,
Because I court a miss.”

“How smart!” said Ethel, who announced
She had a riddle, too;

“The ball you play with must be bounced—
Why like the ball are you 2”

He eyed the clock. ‘Because,’ sighed he,

' “Because I’m always round j”

‘Oh, always, I suppose,” said she ;
“For runs you are renowned.”

*Indeed I am, and home rung, too—

; Why all the boys allow——”

‘Oh, I’m so glad !” she smiled; “for you
Can make a home run now.”

—_—__~+- e+ _____

THE LITTLE PEDDLER.

BY JAMES FRANKLIN FITTS,

Bhai cokitiiellnnn

AN I sell you any pens to-day, sir?”
The speaker was a boy of perhaps

 

; with several patches visible on his
jacket and trousers, which were neverthe-
“SS clean and tidy, and showed the marks
ae sponging and brushing. He had
ho ie Straw hat on his head, though the
War. h was December, and his low shoes
“ © not well calculated to protect his feet
Sainst the sloppy pavements. His dress,
nee ort. betokene careful poverty; his
Marks 4 something more. It was a re-
ee “able face for a boy. of his age, so full
anxier of hope and ambition, mingled with
We ety, and a certain yainful look of
4riness. The boy had a high, bold brow,
7. 4 large, clear eye that gave promise of
are intellect to be developed.
Sole had entered the hardware store of
mon Coit, and going back to the
€rehant’s office, found him with his heels

ah took off his hat, and holding forth his
;Mllow box, which was partitioned off

it hea spaces to hold different varieties
418 little stock, he asked the question
it me Ihave quoted. The merchant heard
od fas conscious of the lad’s pres-
thr,” for he had observed his advance
2 4Ke no notice of the interruption. The
: raped the question.
«yy tl you buy a few of my pens?”
his 0!” thundered the merchant, bringing
pa eee on the floor with a crash,
aring like an enraged wolf at the
fhattled boy, who moved back in fear at
Ver” tion. | No, you impudent little
VOUrsel? won’t; and if you don’t take
Wick. : and your pens out of here pretty
apa’ ll have you sent up as a vagrant
& thief. I know the whole tribe of
1; you come skulking about here,
changing to sell pens, watching your
Ks € to steal. Clear out, quick.’
blin ir!” the boy began, his voice trem-
«yp 2nd his cheek flushing; “sir, I——”
€Zone, you scoundrel!” the

young
theshant roared, jumping to his feet; and
ad hastily retired and left the store.

hic.) Coit sat down again and resumed

frige aPer, much irritated by the scene. A

fro id eee who had been concealed

Notaa w& Yoy’s view, but who had silently
ted the interview, now spoke:

Coit pr "© you not pretty hard on that lad,

doy” exclaimed the other, throwing

°Xcite the paper and speaking gruffly anc
e's dly, “No, not half hard enough.

the .* little vagabond, and ought to be in

«7 Orkhouse.”

lly», YOU know anything of him person-
NY the other quietly asked.

b the 2nd I don’t want to. I judge him

t ink 88 that he belongs to, and I don’t

ther, € s a whit better than the worst of

“
baw hat kind of a judgment would it be,”
D ed the other, “if a stranger were to
si along this street, and reading your

Shona olomon Coit, Retail Hardware,’
Te Say to himself, ‘This man is a
ane Chant.”

ea In my eat merchants
Thust cheating, knavish class. This man
in erefore be a knave. I'll have noth-
Jnd,.? do with him.’ What kind of a
«iment would you call that?”
Tedde at do you mean,” Mr. Coit asked,
“ Ning,
the am Simply supposing a case where
®Dlieg ic process of reasoning might be
Justic, ,“° yourself with quite as much
: “No. 4S you have applied it to that boy.”
Just ese said the other. “That’s
Wij) ,/*¢ you, Burt; just such foolery as

yn nd you to the fools’ asylum some

Meh hile I am outside of it, nevertheless,”
Mo ¢¢ Mr. Burt, rather warmly, “I will

uk Wea "t todo no injustice to the poor and

You are partly right ; some of these

ten years of age, coarsely clad, and |

 

;antly replied,
| but I sometimes use the other kind for red | thief and a vagabond.

0 ough the office window; but he chose |

 

peddlers are no doubt thieves; but it is
cruel to class that boy among them. He
has one of the best’ faces that I have seen
for along time. Your treatment wounded
him keenly, I am certain.”

“Pish!” cried Coit, in the same spirit as
before, walking impatiently about. “These
little*cubs have no business going around
in this way, whether they’re honest or not.
They are unmitigated nuisances, anyway.”

A quiet smile crept around Mr. Burt’s
expressive mouth.

“T began my business life,” he said, “by
selling bundles of assorted goose quills, at
six cents a dozen, and, if my memory
serves me rightly, [ had a very industri-
ous competitor in that traffic by the name
of Solomon Coit.”

Mr. Coit became downright angry at this
home-thrust, the truth of which he could
not deny.

“T’ll thank you, Mr. Burt,” he said, “to
say nothing more on this subject. You
may treat these vagrants in your way,
and I’ll treat them in mine.”

“We both have that. privilege,” re-

speented Mr. Burt, rising. “I’ll extend
the note we were talking about thirty
days. Good-day.”

“Good-afternoon.”

As Jonathan Burt walked back to his
banking office he mused on this phase of
his friend’s character, which was not at
allnew tohim. Both of these men were
prominent before the community, both
were shrewd, excellent business men, and
both had some money, with the prospect
of becoming wealthy in due time. But
their manners were entirely different. To
Burt it made no difference as to a man’s
position in the social scale, as to his means
or his influence; all who had occasion to
come to him were treated with kindness;
harshness, even to a beggar, was entirely
foreign to him. Mr. Coit, on the con-
trary, met his inferiors with a brusque,
irritable address, which, as we have seen,
sometimes became intentionally rude and
insulting. He had little of that genial,
considerate feeling for humanity that dis-
tinguished Mr. Burt, and those who knew
the two men thoroughly often wondered
that they were such good friends.

Upon entering his office, Mr. Burt found

| there, waiting for him, the lad who had

; 3 | just been so summari ismisse :
© stove, reading the afternoon paper. Ljust bean sp, gummarty dismissed. from

Solomon Coit’s store.

“Would you like to buy a few steel pens,
sir?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t know,” Mr. Burt pleas-
“TI write with a gold pen;

ink.
boy?”

“Oh, no, Bey TED UE the boy, brightening
up at the friendly tone of the merchant.
uy couldn’t make a living in this way.
My father supports me at home; but he is
poor, and the famliy is large, and I am
trying to get enough to buy me a suit of
clothes.
to school any longer in these; and I can’t
stay out of school.”

“You like your school, then?” said the |

merchant, regarding the boy with manifest
pleasure.

“Indeed Ido, sir. I hope to learn enough
to do business myself before many years,
and then I can hel ) father and the family.”

“Well, my boy,” said Mr. Burt, “I think
you are on the right road. I like to en-
courage such boys. I’ll take a dollar’s
worth of your pens.”

“A dollar’s worth!” cried the boy, his
face lighting up joyfully. “Why, sir, that’s
a quarter of the whole stock.”

“Never mind, I’ll take them. And re-
member, my lad, if you are honest, indus-
trious, and study hard, you are bound to
succeed. There is no doubt about that; it
is simply a certainty, because it has been
proved so often. There’s your dollar.”

“Thank you, sir,-a thousand times. I'll
not forget what you say.”

The little pen-vender went his way with
a light step and a cheery heart and Jona-
than Burt turned to his desk with the re-
freshing consciousness of having done a
good action.

% * * * * * *

Some twenty years later these two men
were still friends, and were engaged ina
friendly competition. They were neither
too old yet for the excitements of busi-
ness, and the ambitions attending it. Both
had grown wealthy, and both really de-
sired the honor which their respective
friends sought for them. This was_ the
office of president of the railroad in which
each was a heavy stockholder. The road
was popular, and the stock valuable, pay-
ing large dividends. The corporation was
powerful, and the office of president was
very desirable, both in honor, influence,
and profit. There was no conflict in opin-
ion as to the policy to be pursued in the
management of the road; the question was
simply between candidates. <A list of di-
rectors had been put in nomination, with
the name of Solomon Coit at the head of
it, and another with that of Jonathan
Burt, and one or the other was certain to
be named president. Had personal popu-
larity ruled the day, the latter would have
been largely preferred, but business obli-
gations constrained many of the stock-

GOOD NEWS.

 

 

 

 

 

holders to vote the Coit ticket who secret-
ly preferred the other, and the election
promised to be as close as it was certain
to be exciting.

It was indeed close; for on the appointed
day, after the votes of all the stockholders
and proxies present had been taken, it
was apparent to those who had kept tally
that there was an exact tie between the
two tickets.”

“What stock has not been voted on?” a
dozen voices eagerly cried.

“Only ten shares owned by George
Massey,” the secretary replied, after refer-
ring to the books.

“Who is he?” was asked and repeated.

Nobody could answer but the secretary,
who said that the stock had lately been
purchased, and that the owner was not
personally known to the officers.

At this interesting juncture a brisk,
business looking man of thirty odd years
of age entered, and walking up to the
table announced himself as George Massey,
and exhibiting certificates of the ten
shares in question, said that he desired to

vote. In an instant he was pounced upon
by half a dozen excited friends of either

ticket, ballots were thrust into his hands,
and a confused jabber about the merits of
both was poured into his ears.

“Easy, gentlemen, easy,” he remon-
strated, good-humoredly, detaching him-
self from them. “I believe these candi-
dates are not entirely unknown to me.”

He glanced at the rival tickets, thrust
one of them into his pocket, and voted the
other. His choice was not known at the
moment; but three minutes later it was
announced that the Burt ticket had been
elected by a majority of ten.

Solomon Coit tried to join in the con-
gratulations that were poured in upon Mr.

 

 

Mother isn’t willing I should go |

Burt; but he was grievously disappointed,
and thought he would wait a little. He
went around that evening to Burt’s office,
where he found his successful friend, and
also Mr. George Massey.

“You don’t remember me, Mr. Coit,”
said the latter, after the introduction.

“T can’t say that I do, sir,” was the curt

answer.

| “Well, Mr. Coit, I think I can refresh

your memory, as I have just refreshed Mr.
| Burt’s. - Twenty years ago [ was a poor
| lad, living in this city, and trying to earn
| the money to
| clothes, so that I could attend school. I
“ame to you in your store, respectfully re-
questing you to buy a few pens, and you
Sie me out with curses, calling me a
I went on the same

Do you live by selling pens, my|errand to’ Mr. Burt; he spoke kindly to

me, encouraged me, and patronized me.
| You.can imagine the effect that your treat-
ment had on me—you can imagine the
effect that his treatment had on the poor,
dispirited boy. I am prosperous now, if

|not rich; but I shall never forget either of |
I found myself to- |
day in a position where I had to choose |

you, to my dying day.

between you; and you know why I voted
as I did.”

Solomon Coit remembered the incident
perfectly; and out of his terrible mortifi-
sation came a resolution, which, if he
keeps, it will yet make him a better and
more charitable man. Truly, the divine
teaching, “Inasmuch as ye have done it
unto the least of these, my brethren, ye

| have done it unto me,” is sometimes veri-
fied even in the things of this world.
+0

Blacksmith’s Slit Aprons.

  

a S ;
aT,_\ VERY one knows that a blacksmith
*—-4) wears a leather apron, and must have
} C

 

ches

so

noticed that this apron is slit and
often fringed to the bottom. An
English legend relates that, once upon a
|time, Alfred the Great called all the trades
| togother to appoint a trades king. He de-
clared he would make that man king who
could best get on without the help of others
for the longest period. He made a feast,
and asked a workman from each trade to
come and bring a specimen of his work and
the tools used in making it. The blacksmith

his peel and a loaf, the shoemaker his awl
and a new pair of shoes, the carpenter his saw

a joint, the mason his chisel and a carved
stone.

themselves beaten, and the horse-shoe, the

carved stone were all thrown aside. The
tailor was pronounced king by Alfred, and
was duly installed. The blacksmith was
angry, and degtared that he would do no
more work while the tailor was king, and
he actually shut up his shop and disap-
peared, ese

One day, as King Alfred was riding along,

to need the services of the blacksmith, but
he could not get intotheshop.. Then all the
other tradesmen, including the tailor, tried
to shoe the king’s horse, but each one not
only failed, but broke his tools and could

 

    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
    
 
  
  
   
   
   
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
    
  
      
     
  
    
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
   
   
 
   
  
 
  

ie ae ne tin A Era A EES BE a

 

yet me a plain suit of |

 

brought a hammer and horse-shoe, the tailor

‘ ; 0
brought his shears and a new coat, the baker | qj, :

and a nice box, the butcher his chopper and

The tailor’s coat was of such sur- |
passing beanty that all the guests declared

| Troy, Pa.; W

| rough, N.J.; W
| Mamie O'Neil, S. Boston, Mass. ; Tom Dixon, West Bur-

his horse cast a shoe, and he was the first |

87

 

not carry out his proper business until they
were mended,

King Alfred and the tradesmen then broke
open the shop and tried to use the black-
smith’s tools. The king tried to shoe his
horse, the tailor to mend the shears, and
each one endeavored to repair his tools.
The horse kicked the king, the tailor bruised
his fingers, the fire would not burn, and
everybody got into everybody’s way. The
butcher shoved the baker, he shoved the
shoemaker, who in turn shoved the car-
penter, who shoved the mason, who shoved
the tailor, and in the general confusion the
anvil was knocked over.

About this time the blacksmith walked in,
looking very angry. The king, however,
made an humble bow,and said: “I was wrong
to be led away by the gaudy color of a coat,
and I now revoke my “decision and pro-
claim the blacksmith king.’ All the trades,
except the deposed tailor, begged the smith to
mend their tools. So, he shod the king’s horse,
and mended the tools “f all who had asked
him; but, in order to show his magnanimity,
he made the tailor a brand-new pair of
shears. King Alfred proposed to drink
the health of the new king, and to sing a
song to his honor at the second feast which
he gave,

The tailor, however, did not reciprocate
the blacksmith’s kindness, but while the
others were singing, crawled under the table
and slit the blacksmith’s leather apron, and
cut the lower edge into a regular fringe.
From that day no true blacksmith has ever
thought of wearing an apron that was not
slit and fringed at the bottom.

PRIDE WINNERS ®0 PURLES IN No 1

Comparatively speaking, there were very few who
sent us solutions to the full number of puzzles that
appeared in No. 1. We think some of our readers no
doubt labored under the mistake that they had only to
guess a few of the puzzles to secure a money prize.
If this is so, we regret it very much. All who sent an-

| swers will receive something, however, even though

they were not successful in winning a money prize.

‘THE WINNERS TO $5 PRIZES ARE :—Frankie E. Reagan,
Washington, D. C.; Charles J. Kuchler, New Orleans,
4a.; James R. Harris, Oakland, Cal.; M. J. Hayes,
Brooklyn, N. Y.; 8. R. Newton, Newark, Ohio; W. K.
Masters, New York; N. P. Zollinger, Staten Island;
A. F. Hutchinson, Chicago, Ill.; Ernest R. Hurley,
Detroit, Mich. ; Lewis D. Porter, Boston, Mass.

$2 Prizes :—P. J. McMahon, Utica, N. Y.; W. M.

| Brown, Scranton, Pa.; Mrs. E. Crossman, Charleston,
1 SewOzs

W. Gifford, Denver, Col.;.J. T. V. Hopking
N. ¥.; Benj. F. Conant, New York; Edith
y City, N. J.; Walter O. Furlong, Gal-

Brooklyn,
J. Foster, Je i >
veston, ‘Tex. : Geo. H. Jay, Washington, D. C. ; Morris
F. Taylor, Minneapolis, Minn.

$1 Prizes :—Harry G. Mundy, Albany, N. Y.; Jack-

| son C. Cuttle, Springfield, Mass.; Jessie E. Kendrick,
| Milwaukee, Wis. ; ic

Arthur W. Beard, Troy, N. Y.; Jas.
H. Burnside, Salt Lake City, Utah; Mary E, Fisher,
Davenport, lowa; Miriam 8. Grover, Baltimore, Md. ;
3. N. Donaldson, Washington, D. C. ; Mrs. Geo. 8. Bo-
gert, Bayonne, N. J.; Fred. O. Howard, Des Moines,
owa.

We make honorable mention of the following
names :—Mrs. Ellis Way, Westerly, R. I.; E. Felgen-
hauer, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Ross D. Pickett, Broken Bow,
Nebr. ; E. W. Travis, New York ; C. Taaker, New York;
John Daley, Lowell, Mass.; Henry Stieble, Chicago,
li.; F. M. Thomas, Hagerstown, Md.; Miss C. C.
Renick, Falling Spring, W. Va.; P. F. Moriarty, Bos-
ton, Mass.; C. Taaker, New York; Robert Balfour,
St. Clair, Mich. ; J. Sieber, New York ; Cyrus McMoran,
New London, Conn.; Andrew Knudson, Chicago, IL ;
George W. Love, Buffalo, N. Y.; Mazie Stewart, Free-
port, Pa. ; J. Storner, New York ; George Hoare, Lud-
ington, Mich.; Essie R. Clavin, 8. Weymouth, Mass. ;
W. Buschow, Cincinnati, O.; Wm. Shaw, Ludington,
Mich. ; Cyrus J. Curtis, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Harry Cohn,
Punxsutawney, Pa. ; John P. Masterson, Baston, Mass. ;
Millie C. Young, Rowayton, Conn. ; A. F. Keefe, Boston,
Mass. ; Edward Flatow, New York; Lloyd Torgerson,
Chicago, IIL; Henry Keeff, Cleveland, O.; F. M. Ca-

vach, Monroeton, Pa.; Louis Frith, Elwood, Ind,: M.

i. White, Heber, Ark.; C. L. O. Lucken. Minneapolis,
Minn. ; James Pebworth, J&., Norfolk, Va. ; G. E. Car-

 

 

 

| michael, Medway, Mass. ; Dana Cook, St. Joseph Mich. ;

Gustave A. Bleyle, Boston, Mass. ; F. A. Goodell, Ports-
mouth, O.; Willie Strand, Chicago, 111. ; Jos.'T. Dunn,
Newark, N. J.; Miss Lillie ( OgRer, Medway, Mass.; J.
W. Teevens, New York ; John T. Conroy, Portsmouth,
O.; Timothy Enright, Boston, Mass.; George Feibel,
Jersey City, N. J.; Arthur 8. Collins, Farmington,
Me.; John McDonald, Ashley, O,; Samuel Byerley,
Cleveland, O.; Maude Walker, Monroeton, Pa. : Mat-
tie Wilkinson, West Toledo, O. ; Perlie Newell, Chicago,
Ill.; ©. Chambers, Toronto, Ont,; James Walton,
Hoosick Falls, N. Y.; Miss N. Minogue, Brooklyn, N.
Y.; Harry Mathews, Cambridge, Mass.; J..W. Whar-
ton, Boston, Mass. ; Amelia Schell, Chicago, Til. ; Clias.
E. South, Burlington, Kans.; Miss Susie Littlefield,
Baltimore, Md.; F. E. Wells, Trumbull, Nebr. ; Virgie
C. Smedley, Mt. Pulaski, Ill.; E. E. Gustafson, Chi-
cago, IL ; Flora Krueger, Allegheny, Pa.; Alfred Ul-
rick, New York; Yetta Delph, Louisville, Ky.; Geo,
Rodvers, Braceville, Ill. ; Caroline Williams, Chicago,
Lena Weiler, Mount Pulaski, Il. ; G. Connelly,
Kansas City, Mo.; P. Blaschkousky, Baltimore, Md. ;
’. H. Schreiber, Brooklyn, N. ¥Y-; H. M. Stell, Staten
Island, N Y¥.; W.A. Crawford, Brooklyn, N. Y.;. Miss
E. Burgess, Philadelphia, Pa.; Paul Cooksey, Bowling
Green, Ky.; W.L. Fleming, Providence, R. L ; Minnie
Holbrook, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Edward Fitzpatrick, Bos-
ton, Mass. ; R. G. Cracrin, Washington, D. C.; J. A.
Johnerud, Albert Lea, Minn. ; Geo. W. D’Vys, Somer-
ville, Mass. ; Joe. C. Eccles, Odessa, Del. ; Annie Allen,
Chicago, Ul. ; A. L. Porter, Alliance, O. ; James Myles,
Memphis, Tenn.; Charlie L. Prince, Baltimore, Md. ;
I m. Fitzgerald, New York; Geo. W. Ha

W aterbury, Conn. ; Vincent, Howard, Washington, D.
C. ; Miss Coral Brown, Waverly, Tenn. ; E. K. Hayley,

bread, the shoes, the box, the meat and the | Jno. G. McGinnis, Baltimore, Md.; Percy M. Bailey.

| Jackson, Tenn. ; J. Myers Romer, Chicago, Il. ; Myra
| Priest, Washington, D.C.; F

" Jarry P. Brown, Paulsbo-
m. W. Armgtrong, Philadelphia, Pa. ;
lington, Iowa; Allen Koch, Conshohocken, Pa, ; J. E.
Reizenstein, Iowa City, Iowa; John W. Brown, Ft.
Gratiot, Mich. ; Jas. C. McLean, Brookline, Mass. ; H
E. Baxter, New Berne, N. C.; Denis Ryan, New York ;
John Holt, Philadelphia, Pa. ; Karl K. Keely, Chicago,
IL ; Geo. ¥. O’Brien, Iowa City, lowa; Anna M. Scott,
Brooklyn, N. Y. ;_ Ida Mott, Philadelphia, Pa.; V. D.
Hollees, New York ; Edith Kirby, Cadez, O.; Ernest N.
Oliver, Melrose, Mass.; Albert F. Holtz, R. Berli, Mary
M. Steel, Leon Stoddart, Sarre Edin, Josie Kirby,
James Maddock, 8. W. Leakin, W. J. Kellenverger, H.
C. Wiltbank, W. Armstrong, J. Phil Bannigan, Mable
Grove, Mary E. Bunting, Willie Anderson, ossie
White, C. B. Sheafer, C, W. Muhly, Jr., Rosella Wright

 

 

 

 

 

 

      
    
     

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oe

RIE SPOTLESS I TE

 

     
       
  
       
 
 
   
   
  
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
     
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
         
          
    
             
       
   
        
  
     
 
 
 
 
  

SRE OT

 

 

 

 

 

SIT Reea

 

ESET

NX ome

 

Tass

i
      
  

CF#OO TD

NEWS.

 

 

 

ISSUED WEEKLY.

 

NEW YORK, JUNE 19, 1890.

Terms to Mail Subscribers:

(POSTAGE FREE.)
3months - - - - - 65c. | Leopy, two years - $4.00
a aronehes -s sss gsc. |The New York Weekly and
6months - - - - - $1.25 | Goop News, both for one
One Year - - - - = 200), yearo- - -.- <5 $4.50

2 copies, one year- - 4.00}

How To SEND Monry.—We will be responsible for

‘e receipt of money sent to us only when remittance

made io Post-Office Money Order, Bank Check or
Draft, Registered Letter or Express Money Order. We
particularly recommend our subscribers to the Ameri-
can Expess Company. who will receive subscriptions
at any .. their offices, and guarantee the delivery of
any amount not over $5.00 for the low sum of five
cents. We cannot be responsible for money lost in
transit unless sent in one of the above ways.

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

Special inducements made for large clubs.

‘All letters should be addressed to

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

 

 

Contributors to this Number.

‘Reckless Roll,” by James K. Lennox.
“His Own Master,” by I. P. Miller.
“A Sailor In Spite of Himself,” by Harry

Castlemon.
“Enola, the Gipsy Captive,” by Edward S.
Ellis.

“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 Horv.
“Why They Quarreled,” by Max Adeler.
“What Shall Our Boys Do?” by Charles
Barnard.
“The Little Peddler,” by James Franklin
Fitts.
—__—__+-e-»—___—

br ITH each issue Goop News has
Q EN/5 steadily grown in favor, and now,

-@) in point of circulation, it stands
on an equal footing with the strongest of
the old favorites. We feel grateful for the
support given to us, and we can assure our
many readers that we intend to continue to
publish the best stories by the most popu-
lar authors, and to push Goop News beyond
competition or comparison, . We beg to
aunounce for immediate publication two
sterling stories by favorite authors.

DOWN THE SLOPE,

By JAMES OTIS,
BEGINNING IN NUMBER EIGHT.

AND
TN
RANSOMED,
By EDWARD §S. ELLIS,
WILL SHORTLY COMMENCE.
We have other good things in store, about
which we will tell you later on.
—_—_—_—_+-0-—____
Next week you will find the opening chap-
ters of a West Point story, entitled,

CADET CAREY;

?

THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S LEGACY.

A ROMANCE OF A WEST POINT BOY.
By LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,
4d Lieut. U.S. Army,

——- +--_—.

 

 

The writer takes a Border Boy for a hero
whose life develops a wrong and a mystery.
He enters West Point for gallant servicag
rendered, the army in a trying emergeney
and after graduating as a lieutenant, enters
active service and passes through many ro-
mantic adventures,

The story is well put together and very
interesting. The scenes portrayed are
graphic delineations of the life of the pre-
sent day.

—

READ IT.

 

GOOD NEWS for 3 Months.
paper as it speaks for itself.
THE

manufacturers. BE

postage prepaid.

 

BALL IS MADE BY SPALDING

Read What We Are Giving Away For ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS,

Boys, we will send you for the above amount the $1.50 Official League Ball and
We do not think it necessary to say anything about our

 

& BROS,

The above illustration shows the Ball as packed for shipping by these well-known
SURE AND GIVE THIS A SECOND THOUGHT.
it, Boys! we not only send you for three months the best Boy’s paper published but a

$1.50 OFFICIAL LEAGUE BALL as well.

Don’t forget that by sending us $1.50 it will entitle you to three months’ subscription

to GOOD NEWS, the $1.50 OF FICIAL LEAGUE BALL, and all
Address SUBSCRIPTION DEPARTMENT, GOOD NEWS, 31 Rose St., New York.

 

 

“Good News” Humane Society.

HEROISM TO BE REWARDED,

 

. a large number of heroes who are

ae)’ \ never rewarded in any way for risk-
ing their lives to save others, we

have formed a ‘Humane Society” in con-
nection with Goop Nrws.
The above cut is a fac-simile of a solid
gold medal which will be presented, suitably
engraved, to all who become members of
the above society. We also intend publish-
ing in the columns of Goop News, an
account of the deed which entitles one to
wear this emblem of heroism.
_ 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 if*witnessed and
signed by three responsible citizens, and a
notary public of the town or city where it
happened.
There will, no doubt, be a large number
of our young readers who may perform
some act of heroism and yet not be a life-
Saver, To all those we will give honorable
mention in the columns of Goop News.

R ‘wats nam the fact that there are

 

The medal is intended for .life-savers only,
Who will be the first member ?

Applause.

2

LEWISTON, ME., May, 1890.
Eprror Goop News:

i have one of your sample copies ot Goop NEws,
and I like the paper first-rate, and shall sub-
scribe ina few weeks. I am one of the thousand
boy readers who hope to see the paper prosper,
and I for one shall be a reader, aS the atithors of
your paper are my favorites. I hope Goop News
will circulate to thousands of boy readers,

Yours respectfully, FRED. E. Bixby,

NEw YORK, 1890.
Messrs. Streer & Smiru, Publishers—Dear Sirs :—

I thank you very much for the sample copy that
you sent me of Goop News, and am going to get
number two to-day, For the past two years I have
taken and , and for the past year
- and I have thought them very nice,
but since I have seen and read your paper I think
that there is not a weekly paper in New York
that goes ahead of it,

1 shall continue to take it weekly from my news-
dealer, and I sincerely hope that it will get the
good will of every boy and girl in New York and
vicinity.

Hoping that you will succeed in your task, I re-
main Yours very truly, H. H, MORTIMER,

N. Y. Crry, May, 1890.
DEAR Srrs:—T am much obliged to you for sending
me a copy of your latest and best paper (Goop
News). I took the two numbers-publishéd so far,
and have found them interesting. I take the
and -——, but I do not find them in any
respect as good as yours.
Hoping the paper will be a success, I remain
Yours, J. H. CLAY.
LOWELL, Mich,
DEAR Srrs:—Have examined Goop NrEws, and
think it a most excellent journal for young people.
With such contributors as Optic, Castlemon, &c.,
it deserves unqualified success. I am
Very respectiully yours,

 

 

 

 

 

F. D. Eppy.

SOMERVILLE, Mass.
Eprror Goop News— Dear Sir :—

I received a copy of Goop News only this morn-
ing, and that it was thoroughly enjoyed will be
the “Good News” its editor must expect from all
who peruse it as carefully as I ald.

GEO. W. D’VYE.

The Letter “A” Contest.

v,

aN NLY two more issues, and the result
g Ge will be known. ‘The returns on this

novel contest are very large, and it

takes up all the time of our clerk
to examine the guesses and file them in
their order. Every guess received will be
recorded, and the prizes awarded to the
guessers who come the nearest to the cor-
rect number of times the letter ‘‘A” will ap-
pear in Goop News from No, 1 to No.8 in-
clusive.

An official count will be made, but in
reality our readers are the judges, as the
paper will be on file in thousands of homes,
and they will enjoy the same facilities as
we do for knowing the correct result.
Now, boys, just a little patience. You can
rest assured that we are as anxious as you

 

to know the winners of this contest.

Just think of

BOoOoB:S FREE.

 

Opens,

ae

  

*)

Ae June 12, 1890, we will print a coupon
2\/ on the first page for 12 consecutive |
issues, The coupons will be num-_
bered from 1 to 12, and by sending us the”
set complete, we will send you a book.

   

r

ular authors. ‘They are bound in handsomé
lithograph covers, fully illustrated, and con-
tain about 200 pages,
American copyright stories.

Make Your Own Selection.

THE YANKEE CHAMPION, by Sylvanus Cobb, J&

THE GOLDEN EAGLE, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr.

THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO ABROAD, by Alex
Robertson, M. D.

Robertson, M. D.
HELD FOR RANSOM, by Lieut. Murray.
AN IRISH MONTE CRISTO. 5

Weir.
GOLD-DUST DARRELL, by Burke Brentford.
BOB YOUNGER’S FATE, by Edwin 8. Deane.
THE REVENUE DETECTIVE, by Police Captail
James.
THE AMERICAN MARQUIS, by Nick Carter.
A MYSTERIOUS CASE, by K. F. Hill.

Sleuth.”

BRUCE ANGELO, THE CITY DETECTIVE, by “Old
Sleuth.”

BRANT ADAMS, THE EMPEROR OF DETECTIVES
by “Old Sleuth.

Rememberyou get a copy of any book you
name in the above list, by cutting out aD
sending us the twelve coupons which we wi
publish in Goop News for twelve weeks.

 

IN CASH PRIZES TO BE
GIVEN AWAY.

 

-——-

E propose giving away $100 i
money to the one who guesses thé
order in which the National Leagué
and Players’ League ciubs W

finish the season of 1890,

There are eight clubs represented in each
League—namely : Players’ Leaqgue—Bostody
Brooklyn, Buffalo, Chicago, Cleveland, NeW
York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh. ;

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

The following shows the order in which
the National League finished the season ?
1889 :

 

 

i. New York... «8... 5. Pittsburgh....- ¢
2; ROGER i510 6 cigcd 1h 6. Cleveland. ,...- "
8. SCHICRR0. oti oes 7. Indianapolis ..-+*
4, Philadelphia..... | 8. Washington...-+*

Write the names of the two Leagues in thé
order in which you think they will finish
and send them to us, accompanied with thé
certificate which you will find printed 0
the first page of this paper every weé
until the contest closes. f
The prizes are intended for the readers ®
Goop News only, and guesses sent unaccoi
panied by the certificate cannot be recognized 4
competitors.
The prizes will be divided as follows *—
$35 for the first correct guess received of t
National League, and $35 for the first cO%
rect guess reccived of the Players’ League; $
to the second correct guesses of each of
Leagues, making a total of $100. By th
arrangement you have four chances to wit t
prize. There is also nothing to preva
one person from winning the two capit
prizes. You-can guess as many times
you have certificates. ’
Some one has got to win, and why not yo t
Please write your guesses on one side a
paper only. Write the National League ©
one slip of paper and the Players’ Leaguvé m7
another ; also the date you mail it, é
Remember the only condition is that the
certificate found on the first page must ace?
any every guess. f
® The game will be umpired by the ‘ cof
guides” of the Players’ League and Natt
League.
Competition will close September ist

 

f
1890. Guesses mailed after September 19
will not be counted, j

  

  

oe

OMMENCING with Goop News datedil

They are carefully selected stories by pop-)

They are all popular”

THE IRISH MONTE CRISTO’S SEARCH, by Alex

A CHASE ROUND THE WORLD, by Mariposa

VAN, THE GOVERNMENT DETECTIVE, by “Old 7

Base Ball Cranks, Ahoy!

   

 

   
 

 

   

 

GOOD Nr ws. 8o

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 
   
  
 
 
  
 
    
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
   
 
   
  
    
   
  
   
  
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
    
   
    
  
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
    
  
  
   
 
   
 
   
   
   
  
     

sh eee aie ach felt OS Ee ees
ay. ‘i ' We were still in ho e to reach the ship ! Chase had reached the ship, and while we had no time to look for details. The dead
HIS OWN MASTER before the squall struck us, and laid back | were a quarter of a mile from her, he gave ; whale’s back could be seen between the
} with all our might, rapidly gaining on the | one last look astern, where a white streak | main and foremasts, and it appeared to be
lated OB. other boats; and the latter were not more was rapidly approaching on the surface of | fairly on her deck.
upon ; than a quarter of a mie shee of a when ie Pee and an a ee a of the} But one petsouape of the eee es
utive : - we were within a mile of the vessel. fury of the coming squall, and then re-|company seemed to enjoy himself, an
num. The Fortunes ald Misfortines of Fret Wilder Mr. Anson appeared more anxious than marked quietly: : that was Charcoal. He appeared to think
s the sl I had ever seen him before, and was con- “It’s no use, men, we can’t. God help | the whole affair gotten up for his especial
stantly looking from the ship to the ad-; the ship—she won’t pay off in time. Look | benefit, and was swimming about in great
By I. P. MILLER. vancing squall. Suddenly he exclaimed: ‘ out for your oars—ship ’em in, ship ’em in, | glee, barking and yelping with delight at
POR pea “Don’t you hear that, men? There’s|Get.aft here, all of you, and stand by to| the noise and confusion. The boat ran
Ome (“His Own MasrER” was commenced in No. 4. Back | wind there—lots of it. Why don’t that; trim boat. Here it comes—look out!” within arm’s length of him, as we were
com Mutubers can be obtained of all News Agents.] fool brace for’ard, so as to get the ship} And it did come. Howling and shriek- | hurried on past the Mountaineer; and Bill
oular - under command,-instead of laying there | ing, with not a orgp of rain, but lifting | the boatsteerer, grasping him by his long
CHAPTER VI. like a dead fish?” Then casting his eyes | the salt water from the crests of the waves | Shaggy coat, dragged him alongside. The
toward Mr. Logan’s boat, he continued, | and driving it along in a snowy, stinging | midship oarsman twisted his hands in the
A PACIFIC BREEZE, “Ha! Logan’s got it—there goes his mast spray, it drove us like a race-horse from | hair on his back, and the two landed the
. ‘ ;over the bow—why didn’t he strike it?| the ship. As the squall struck us fair aft, | dog safely in the boat. The shrieks of the
b, Jt. daylight we were roused to com-! tow it roars, men; don’t you hear it?| and our bows were high out of water, we|men on board the ship were no longer
mence the real work of whaling, | Tay pack—lay back; we must get to the| were in no danger of capsizing; but we|heard; and we shot away before the tor-
i4 for catching the whale is only fun ; ship—we must!” | were helpless to do more than run before! nado, helpless to .assist our shipmates,
Alex. atows cutting him in, and cry tae out and |, hen raising his voice to a yell, he the tempest, for no man living could have | leaving the Mountaineer and her crew
ying down the oil is work, and hard as | paijed the ship: | managed an oar in such a wind. And then | to their fate.
Well as dirty work, too. But we did not “Keep her away, keep her away, stew-|came the rain. It seemed as though the CHAPTER VII.
AleX, ie for shortly after eet te ions ard; do you want this to take her aback?” | squall had saved its greatest fury to ex- Peale
0 Mall foo ec ee ae to ee we were still too far away to be | pend upon us; for the ening See Se ee aa ee
eet aphice: 10 etait the chase 4A heard, The mate, who was nearest the|der were terrific, and with each burst the | - SOR perhaps two hours after we
48 enough to say that the second mate, Mr. passed the hapless Mountaineer, the
Ogan, succeeded in fastening, about ten | storm drove us onward. Then it

“8 moderated, but unlike the usual
working of the violent but’ short
and unfrequent squalls of those

’ ”
|posa& 0 clock, to a big “lone whale,” and was
Wed away to windward for hours,
Without being able to get a

a re. / waa’ -4¢ aAttlon-+ 9 ‘etree

.. hance at his “life” with : : S ww = ~ Fs settled nip & sendy
, € lance. His line 4 : << SS SN : 3 ZS strong gale, ich laste

10s : iv through the night. As

arted (or was cut,
rtain never learned
Which), as near as
We could judge of
ime, at about
Wo o’clock,
the waisthoat

soon as the wind had
abated sufficiently
to make it safe to
round her too,
the boat’s head
was turned

 

“Old being then to the w ind;
our or fiv and the mast
ur or five ; : eee
uci Miles to = sail, ae
‘ 7 ; sits
Windward of tp e€ ae
or boat, the boat- ere
: ate and were made
VES, Captain “ fast to the
Mile or . aging Orie end of. the
; More wees Sse =: 3 > 4 — < oe ; — — = é
© leeward of peers sooseesccos EG : one A < eo CNS whale line,
you US, and the P= SSS a ose Se P ; e SS thrown over- :
and Shi 10 - Sez srs <= board, and al-
Cte in « 5 « c
oy 4141p hull pF Soo eT one So .
wil down beneath === - lowed to tow
, 1¢ horizon a long way to
- >

windward. This

‘n or twelve :
drag was effec-

Miles away.

| i 0 llkeedt eck 5 ~ ' ea 7 roc : : SS aS S er fe a oni te te
€ - r => UE AN : R : > : —— a = er hei O 3
4 ieee took down ———- <<< : Dn " eee = = —— Tings ee — sea. and relieved us
nine tt, thus sig- —=_ a =x ; : SA S—iails of the necessity of
no ins that he was LLL ft Ze . Sa Co SSS ; Nw k e} ing a rankate the
Onger fast, we Exe top bees " Ss eS : Nea : : > re. Beak come
Ceased ~ pulling to LEZ. Cif pctn . oe ; SS “°F “= steering-oar all
BE | gs tb Ia ee gna => SS = night.

Windward, set our
a » and commenced
run slowly down

As soon asthis ar-
rangement was com-

 

i for the Mountaineer, plete. . ar io
) mm | receded by the cap- : EW ee ates al . i f ss the
‘the | “in and mate, and Pe ey Les orien ore te ae

| 4 “ ass as
gue | Ollowed by Mr. Lo- a ae compass. was
wi : San. But the light Hw J ~ Se a i. PRR CN hog not there!

: Wind soon died al- BAe Mi = SS eE oat | A Sei ae LK vA, Y Aas SEE Lt 1 3 rhe after-oarsman,

| Ost entirely: and Bye eae POG o<5 See , f <a Ss oan ih in the hurry of clear-
oe after having a drink Vad BM AE one ZE a BH ee rae Y AS NY iy, ing away the boat,
toD, } Water and a a bees ——> igh Oe: AY a. y : =U eee Sel No ee a had left it on the
New : Smoke (I had by this A EEE 4 : ship’s deck, near the

i time learned . to mainmast, and there
Chi- | Soke, and sported a we were adrift,

with a scanty supply

‘ ipe ,
rk, | > Of approved é
Or By p} of water, and no

ac :
lackness), we again

 

pa: food save : the few
ict | The a er hake hard biscuit in the
1s i Ppressively hot not lantern kég, with- '
Withat ly ; 5 ; Re, out a compass, and
Standing the og ZeaeD \i\\ — - = SSS —— - Pa \Wa a = - ; ’
a breeze « and now it & ihe, Be —— oe ; = ' > in mid-ocean, far
BE Was suffocat ing. We from the much-fre-
Pr Be eard <a; rum- ERE: quented track of
ee hing as of distant & mA \\\i ————— oe ee SS ee SSF TSS SS ships. Our - situ-
the | under for some == kde —————— BS L_LZ_—L__ = \N tev, 3 : Soe «ation was bad
| iD, time ; and now dark ——— FY E ; in gcc See wees || «enough; nor was
the i Masseg of black : S our anxiety lessened
oD | loud baleen £5; show when we thought of
ae hemsel yes above the probable fate of
3 4 the horizon oc- the rest of the
f : “sionally : bright Mountaineer’s
0. ’ i Tew
5 ; uae by flashes of ees :
one | Vivi, lightning foward morning
jas 4 While the thunder the wind went
became louder and AS WE SHOT PAST THE POOR OLD MOUTAINEER TWO OF THE MEN LANDED CHARCOAL SAFELY IN THE BOAT. down; and the sun
c

7 “ose. bright and
ete continuous. . :

.
Sl eaters seme

 

 

 

the ie trike the sail, Bill,” said Mr. Anson; (ship, was waving his hat to her to keep | squall acquired fresh force, while the tor- | clear, lighting up a sea tern h r any-
oor ss don’t help us, anyhow. Pull a good | off before the wind, and we could hear his | rents of rain hid everything more than a|thing but pacific aes or eave Sane
$15 i Toke, men; let’s get aboard before that | voice as he shouted, though we could not | few rods distant from our view. Cower- showing | us any oe nal Sorcha up.
the 4ll comes down on us, if we can. You tell what he said. : | ing and crouching before the storm, we ore rd aie Mad € biseade nee
(his | em? catch a puff here very often—most of W e had seen a man standing on the} ran for the ship. at thks ebinl Tooke a drink: of water’; and then taking one
n fa S all rain; but when one does come—|main hatch for some time; and had got Merciful Heaven! Loo rere! Look!" }a drink } yulled over the short broken
phan ye! it’s a snorter. Lay back steady|near enough to make out that he was the| It was Bill the boatsteerer who spoke; oars, we the direction where we « ‘ed
iat ; Strong.” steward (the mate being within three or|and he had good cause to be startled, as | w ayes aS maces 4 l lere We suppose
it | of ® had got to within about three miles | four ships’ lengths of the vessel), when we | had we, when we gazed in the direction the Rar LI ~~ Nn when we saw her last!
ao hain’ Ship, the two leading boats being a obaaresd a sudden commotion on_her| he pointed out. On our port bow was the W e Tate ber = a the as we had
9 at Mile nearer, when Mr. Anson again | deck. A man whom we recognized as Jake | poor old Mountaineer—no longer walking ns yar ea <3 wes u le Wink after passing
ou! Poke ; (the seaman who shipped with me in the | the water “like a thing of life,” but like ome ee. M was hard work, and our
, of Give way all you know, men; that’s} Boston office), suddenly attacked the stew- | some worn-out monster lying down to die. ee t Ss’ was slow; yet we stuck to our
op | Poing to be a whistler. What in thunder] ard, and several other men immediately She had taken the squall, and as we fame wae ae ae hours, and rae vee it up
oR | with? fool of ashipkeeper laying there|rushed in to take part in the quarrel, | in sight of her was on her beam anes, Bet to = ae aoe a eee
i his mainyard ,aback for? Why ain’t| whatever it was. : | Spray rushing over her in an aa ete fhcce u hss . oa — — at
the | Can) rking the ship up to us what he In another moment the main and after- | sheet, and several men nae rata tne m3 ; 1p; a ; P “9 Biaae as ain ae
, : He ain’t got much wind, that’s cer- | yards were shivered, then the flying-jib, | weather rail and in her rigging. The mi use, boys—she’s gone down ! 1e’d go
as mie ut he might ha’ been three or four | that had been hanging idly at the end of | boat was stove alongside. - witht down like a stone as soon as she filled, and
‘ kn €S to windward o’ where he is, if he’d| the boom, commenced to run up its stay; | We shot past her like an aITOW, * ithin she couldn’t lay where we saw her ponies
C 7oWn his duty.” and just at that moment the mate’s boat | twenty feet of her stern. Het masts were | without filling. God help the rest of ’em!
ml te mass of black clouds, which had;shot. alongside, and her crew began | lying flat on the water; eed in | —but then; they ioeecg off than we are,
tir Ned to be nearly stationary for a.long| scrambling on board—the captain’s boat her top hamper was the body 0 > man, | after all. Sees Co es et
1st, a he, Was now rapidly nearing the zenith; | bearing close astern. evidently dead. Another man, whom I| middle of the Pacific; wouldn't know 10.W
ist nd it was certain that whether there was} Mr. Anson was very pale, but did not | recognized as Jake, was hanging on to|to steer if we had a compass, either,
BM ahiatng sed iio cttonhans Cetinder lea nad he knew it; Bet betnn Gabton [inomriging with a hatch: but welthic ix anywane
8htning and its attendant thitinde. est, and he knew it; but before Captain | mizzen-rigging atchet ; ; we s, fix anyway.

 

 
90

GOOD

NEW S.

 

Setting the sail, a gentle breeze having
again sprung up, we stood along on the
wind all day, heading as near to the east-
ward as we could guess; but no Moun-
taineer could we find, nor any trace of
her. At night we had a half biscuit each,
and asorry pittance of water; and the
boat-bucket, fasténed to the end of the
boat’s painter, served as a drag to keep
the boat steady till morning, one man only
on the watch. z

Next day we again set our sail, and
ran off before the wind, and about
noon were gladdened by the sight of a dis-
tant vessel. My word will be taken when
I say that we made for the stranger with
all speed; and we soon found ourselves
safe on board the schooner Chiloe, laden
with flour, and bound from Valparaiso to
Melbourne, Australia, little the worse for
our exposure in the boat.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE GOLDEN LAND,

F our life on board the Chiloe, it is
needless to say more than that we
were kindly cared for, and that we

“<4 safely arrived at Melbourne in about
six weeks from the time we were picked
up. The “gold fever” was just then at its
height, and wild tales of “big finds” and
of fortunes of fabulous size—the fortunes
themselves were too often fabulous—being
obtained at the diggings. My companions
took their course, and I took mine; they
went to Balarat, and I went to Back Creek
alone.

I was not wealthy, just then—in fact, I
had my entire estate about me, in the
shape of a good blue shirt, a fair pair of
boots, a pair of trousers, not so good as
they had once been, and a hat that was a

ositive disgrace to any man of a well-
yalanced mind. I had two shillings of
English money (not enough to buy a loaf
of bread at that time, and in that place),
and my dog Charcoal. Rather slender as-
sets to build a colossal fortune on, but I
intended to perform that feat. I was tall
for my age, and stout in proportion, and
looked at least nineteen or twenty; and I
soon got a job, at first as a “wages man,”
at a pound sterling a day and my board,
and then as a partner in a “claim.”

For two years I worked on various gold-
fields in Australia, sometimes thinking I
had the expected fortune almost within
my reach, and then being hard put. to it
to get a meal toeat. At the end of that
time, having just’ finished working out a
fair claim, and a division of the proceeds
having given each of our party seventy

ounds, I determined to go down to Mel-
ourne, and enjoy myself for a week or
two on my money.

There was but little choice in the meth-
ods of traveling; for “Cobb’s Coach,” so
called from an American of the name of
Cobb, who established lines of six and
eight-horse coaches all through the Brit-
ish colonies in Australia and New Zealand,
which lines are kept up to this day under
his name (though he returned to a arian
man years ago, with an immense for-
erack ad a hard road to travel, and the
passengers were often obliged to pry the
whole team out of some one of the innu-
merable mud-holes on the route. Added
to this, the patrons were obliged to fight
for their property and their lives rather
more often than was considered proper, as
Cobb’s Coach usually took down large
quantities of gold, and the escort of well-
armed and determined troopers was not
always sufficient to repress the ‘business
enterprise of the Australian “bushrang-
ers,” as their highwaymen are called.

As an alternative to traveling by coach,
I could walk; but as I should run nearly
as much risk from the bushrangers on foot
as in the coach, and be even more liable
to get stuck in the mud (for to the driv-
er’s credit be it said, they seldom got into
any one mud-hole more than once), I con-
cluded to pay my fare, and try to persuade
myself that walking alongside a big lum-

ring wagon, with mud up to my knees,
was taking aride. I left Poverty Flat
diggings by Cobb’s Coach, bound for Mel-
bourne, with nearly seventy pounds. sterl-
ing in my pocket, a Colt’s navy revolver
and a big knife in my belt, concealed by
my jumper or outside shirt, a pair of clean

socks rolled up in Tat a
ecuhiaedans Chasen te. blanket, and my old

I have spoken of bus}
coaches, and have Sa
ee the scneeeos I
reader may doubtless suppo; ‘
going to give an account, of a Wat A ayn
conflict with robbers. I should realty like
0 give such an account; to relate hos, .

us

angers attacking
particular in de-

Ww 4
rangers ambushed our coach and ie

upon our escort of mounted police,
ers, in Australian parlance), how
ter made a determined resistance
gallantly assisted by the armed miners
and how we finally, by unheard-of prodi-
gies of valor, beat off the robbers, not-
withstanding their superior numbers, and
captured their leader, who was hung for
his crimes, while we were covered with
honor and eg for our heroic conduct. I
should really like to tell all this; and

(troop-
the lat-
and were

 

 

there is but one reason why I do not,
which is, that nothing of the kind hap-
pened on his trip, no bushrangers being
seen at all. Iam sorry, but I can’t help
it—if the robbers wouldn’t attack the
coach, I surely am not to blame for their
shortcomings.

But I did not reach Melbourne by_ that
coach, though the bushrangers did not
stop it. All went well the first day of our
journey, and we found shelter for the
night at the government accommodation
house, some thirty-five miles from Poverty
Flat. Next morning the coach set off
again; but after going about three miles,
the passengers got out to walk up a very
steep hill, as the eight horses had enough
to do to take up the coach. Finding some
berries by the side of the track, I stopped
to pick some; and when the coach was
half way up the hill, starting to run so
that it would not have to wait for me at
the top, Islipped upon a stone in the road,
giving my ankle a violent wrench. The
pain was very severe for several minutes,
and I sat on the wet grass, holding my limb
with both hands, until the worst of it was
over; but when I looked after the coach,
it was not tobe seen. I had either not
been missed, or had been purposely left as
a punishment for loitering behind. On
attempting to ascend the hill, I found my
sprained ankle too painful to allow me to
walk; sol had nothing better to do than
wait till some one came along on his way
up the country, whv would help me to
reach the accommodation house again. It
was useless to think of proceeding toward
Melbourne, as the next stopping-place was
fifteen miles away, with an unbridged
river between. My ankle soon became
much swollen, and I crawled to a pe
of water at the foot of the hill, where I

 

remained for several hours bathing the
injured part. Charcoal seemed to know
that something was wrong, though what
it was he probably didn’t exactly under-
stand; but he stuck close by me all the
time, and showed his teeth to every |
passer-by, of whom there were plenty, but
all going the wrong way for my purpose.
_T had begun to think I should have to
lie there all day, when one man stopped
to have a talk with me. He was not a
handsome man, and Charcoal persisted in
curling up his lips, and looking askance
at the traveler, notwithstanding my re-
peated commands to him to “lie down.”
Big, heavily-built, with a square chin,
thick lips, small gray eyes, sunk doep
in his head and almost hidden by his
shaggy eyebrows, and with a thick crop
of short bristly red hair, he certainly was
not a man to admire—nor did I admire |
him much more than did Charcoal. How-
ever, he spoke civilly enough, and asked
what was the matter. I told him, adding
that I wished to get back to the accom- |
modation house; and the. man (with all
his forbidding looks he was more kindly!
than any other who had passed me that
ne at once offered to assist me,
though he would lose a whole day’s travel
by so doing. Leaning heavily on his
shoulder, I started on my return, but’ had
gone only a few rods when my companion
turned his head, and then remarked :

You’re all right now, mate; here
comes a dray. Lay down again till it gets
here, and we’ll bundle you in. I’m glad
of it, for I want to get to the next station
to-night—but I couldn’t ’a left you in this
fix, any way, mate, if the dray hadn’t
come. I’d’a gone back to the ’commo-
dation.” r

The dray was coming down the hill,
with two powerful horses, one before the
other, the driver walking; and I sat down
to await its approach.

“I know that chap,” said my ill-favored
companion, as the rar drew near; “that’s
‘Jake the spouter’—and a right good feller
he is; he’ll lend you a hand in a minute.”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—— —- ~~» @ oe. —----

How Railroad Rails Are Made.

: : 8S iron and other metals swell or ex-

\ pand when heated, and contract
*. or shrink when cold, the rails on a.
railroad are alittle longer in summer
than in winter. On this account they are |
not joined closely together, but a small space |
is allowed between the joints, and in this |
way all danger of swelling up and being |
pushed out of place isavoided. The screw- |
holes in the rails are made longer than they |
are high, to allow the screws to move back- |
ward and forward a little when the rails be- |
come heated. In laying rails around curves,
the outer railis always set higher than the
inner one. If they were both laid of the
same height, the last carriage of a train |
rounding a curve would be apt to be thrown |
off the track. The raising of the outer rail |
prevents this, as the weight of the carriages |
falls on the inside of the curve, and thus |

overcomes the tendency to fall outward,
ec ee——

No.

the base-ball picture,

A LITTLE ADVICE.
RY LEWIS D. COFFRAIN.

If your path of life is rugged,
And the way to fame is steep ;

If you cannot win a fortune
By one bold, determined leap,

Why need you become despondent ?
Stand up firmoly like a man,

And your work will be accomplished
It you do the best you Can.

If temptations should beset you,
Far too strong for human will;
If the field that spreads before you
Seems too broad for you to till,
Don’t give up without a struggle,
Don’t resign yourself to fate,
Seize the implements of labor ;

Be content to work and wait.

If the work that is assigned you
Is not that you most desire;
If the compensation offered
Is not just what you require,
Don’t refuse the proffered labor,
Do not scorn the humble pay,
Hope tor better things to-morrow—
Do the best you can to-day.

If your lot in life is lowly,
And your aspirations high ;
If the thoughts that dwell within you
Fain would soar toward the sky,
Don’t despair because you’re human,
Don’t regret your humble birth ;
FH’en that proud sky-soaring eagle
Builds her nest on mother earth,

Strive. then, with both mind and body,
To accomplish some great end ;

And if heavy weights oppress you,
Do not break, but only bend.

Keep your feet in paths of virtue,
Mingle freely with the clan ;

Put your trust in God and heaven,
And do all the good you can.

<4 9

Enola, the Gipsy Captive:

The Camip-Fires and Wiewams of the Prairies

—+—

Zale of Lifein the Wilder
ness, or Adventures in
the Far West.

ene

By EDWARD S. ELLIS,
Author of ‘The Last War-Trail,” “Lost Trail,”
‘‘Ned in the Block-House,” ete,

a

[“ENOLA, THE Gipsy CAPTIVE,” was commenced in
No.1. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.]

ie tga
SYNOPSIS.

In the summer of 1850 Werren Marewold was
crossing the plains of which now is the State of
Nebraska, on his way to California. One evening
he saw the smoke of a camp-fire rising from
among the trees at some distance ahead of him,
Atftirst he thought he was near an Indian en-
campment, but finally concluded that he was
mistaken, and boldly rode up to where the fire
was burning. Here he met Preston Kendall, of New
Orleans, Who was journeying across the prairies
alonein searvh of his sister Enola, who, eight years
before, had been stolen from her home by a band
of gipsies. The two men at once became friends,
and as Marewold expressed a desire to accom-

pany Kendall in search of his sister, the latter |

at once accepted the companionship, and the two
journeyed along together. After many days travel,
the two friends came in sight of the gipsy en-

campment on the banks of the Saskatchewan | promise to every man of the ome

River, in what was then known as the Hudson
Bay country, and at once set about rescuing Enola
from the hands of her captors. Anticipating con-
siderable trouble in securing the release of his sis-
ter, Kendall sought the assistance of a party of
Hudson Bay trappers, commanded by a man
named Sanglid, and, thus reinforced, they entered
the gipsy encampment, and soon the brother and
sister were re-united.

CHAPTER XII.
HOMEWARD BOUND.

Cy
‘jy FOUND Sanglid and his trappers
f 4 seated on the river bank, engaged in
| discussing and commenting upon their
recent adventure. The former mo-
tioned to me to take a seat beside him.
“Now that your friend has regained his
sister, what course do you intend to pur-
sue?” he asked, with great earnestness.
“Your winter is close at hand, I sup-
pose, and Kendall I know is anxious to
get out of the country as soon as possible.”
“After establishing the post of which I
have spoken I intend to return to the set-
tlement with several of my men. Your
best plan, I should say, is to accompany
me. The journey to St. Paul from that
point can be easily made, and you know
the rest of the distance to New Orleans
can be accomplished at your leisure.”
“Such, Iam sure, would be my friend’s
wish, were his parents in that city; but
there are in San Francisco, where he
promised to meet them this autumn.”
“Ah! that alters the case, then. Still, I
can do something for you. You will, then,

os

7 will not be complete unless it contains | CTOSS the mountains and go down the coast

to California?”

“I believe that is Kendall’s intention,

 

 

although it seems to me a desperate under-
taking to attempt the passage of the
Rocky Mountains with his sister.”

“Tt can be easily done before the winter
sets in, if you have a guide. There are
numerous passes in the chain which are
safe and available.
happens that we have a man with us who
is on his way to one of our posts in the
Columbia Department, being sent there on
business for the company. This man has
crossed the mountains several times, and
you will find him an energetic and faith-
ful companion.”

“Your kindness to us really——”

“Tut! tut!—Julian, this way.”

A small, thin-nosed, nervous-looking
personage stepped briskly up to us, and
took the attitude of attention to Sanglid.

“The two gentleman whom we have just
befriended,” said he, “intend crossing the
mountains to California. If you are will-
ing, they would like to accompany you to
Oregon.’

“T shall be very, very glad to have them
do so,” said he, frankly offering his hand
to me. There was something novel, amus-
ing, and withal prepossessing in this little
man, that attracted me toward him at
once. After again expressing the pleasure
the intelligence gave him, he withdrew
with avery polite bow and left Sanglid
and me alone.

“He is a singular fellow,” said my com-
panion. “He acts as interpreter and mes-
senger for us, and is one of the most use-
ful men in theservice. Hespeaks a dozen
different Indian dialects, ad is as shrewd

and cunning as the most wily Blackfoot.” -

“He favors a Frenchman in his manner.”

“He is generally taken for one, but he is
an American, of French descent, and, by
the way, he has spent several years of his
life in New Orleans. He is brave, honest,
and faithful, and will stand by you in
danger until death. He has made the
journey to Oregon and back again several
time 3, and on each occasion entirely alone.
He was captured once by the Blackfeet,
but he asserts on his honor that he pur-
posely permitted them to do it, in order to
get an insight into their peculiar institu-
tions. At any rate, he made his escape,
and I should like to see the band of Indi-
ans that can capture him again.”

“What is his full name?”

“Julian Martin.”

“Tam gratified beyond expression that
he is to be our guide, and I am sure that
Kendall and his sister will never forget
your kindness.”

“T have done nothing but asimple duty,
and the less said about it the better. But
is it not nearly time that your friend re-
turned?”

“T should think so,” I replied, looking
at the point where I expected his appear-
ance.

We had been an hour together, but as ©

much more time elapsed before Kendall
and his sister made their appearance.
They came slowly walking arm in arm,
their heads bent, their demeanor serene
and quiet, but their faces showed the
traces of the feelings which had stirred
their hearts at this memorable re-union.
The trappers respectfully made way for
them, and they approached Sanglid and
myself. The former, in a few words, ex-
plained the arrangements which he had
made for their journey across the moun-
tains. Kendall, with that graceful earn-
estness which always characterized him,
thanked him and his men fervently for
himself and his sister, and gave his solemn
that in case he ever could favor or befrien
them in any way, he would do so.

There was no cause for remaining t0-
gether any longer, and the trappers shove
their canoes into the water. Martin, Ken-
dall, and I agreed not to ride unless dis-
abled or sick, while the two horses were
reserved exclusively for Enola. We thet
shook hands all round with Sanglid and
the trappers, exchanged farewells an
kind wihieie? they dipped their paddles 12
the water with a cheer, we stood watch-
ing them as they headed up stream, the?
waved a silent salute to them, and wé
parted and never meet again.

Turning our faces southward we begat
our journey to California. Our course wa%
nearly due south, Julian telling us tha
the pass through the mountains was 1
American possessions, a long distance
south of ‘the boundary line. This patb
leads directly into Washington Territory;
and I believe is now extensively used
emigrants to that country. Our journey,
it will be noted, led us again through thé
Blackfoot country. When Kendall becam?
aware of this, he expressed his fears
Julian.

“Never fear, never fear,” he returned
cheerfully, “I will take you throug?
safely.”

The shrewdness and cunning of this ma?
I have never seen equalled in the most Te
nowned hunters of the West. Placed i#
the midst of a dangerous territory, swat”
ing with hostile Indians, I believe }®
could live for months without being €?
trapped. He remarked to me one days
that he could “scent a Blackfoot” a mi 1
away; and from the consummate skil

Now it providentially

 

 
Which he displayed in avoiding, their
eles, I was sometimes half tempted to
seve he spoke the truth. What was
Bae Ps 4s noticeable in the man, he ap-
aise to possess a good education. This
4 ee the curiosity of Kendall so much
4 t one day he questioned him, and this
Markable conversation took place:

 

GOOD NEWS.

went up the river to St. Louis. Terror
kept me silent all the way, and when we
got out upon the prairies, I was given lib-
erty to do what I pleased, as I could do
nothing at all. From that time until the
»yresent, you know for yourself what my
fot has been.”

Shortly after this conversation our pass-

4 On “Understand you have been in New| age through the mountains commenced,
% «

ans, Julian. How long since was it?”
«Out eight years.”

«+0U were there in 1842, then?”

es.”

a Rhola yy? remember the abduction of
i “
“V.

4 Our father.”
~ Tthe Sudo! And you have not forgotten
7 sylorts made to recover her?”
ton, Sat all, for I was engaged in the
z “y Myself.”

bm ou Were? I am sure I have no remem-
a mo you.” 4
" ess you have,” said Julian, with a
Pons took.

a aah 4m certain I have not,” replied Ken-
Y) «patter thinking a moment.
" cinnati you ever get a letter from Cin-
ant?” he asked in a low tone and with
¥ We smile.
Ayrit hat?” exclaimed Kendall, “did you
TD Fnttere?”
1 tpge nodde.
Wh, 2 Would ever have suspected this?
«) Yulian, explain yourself!”
: ont I remember,” said he, with a
Fount? ,, he measures you took to find me
 prati_flow ou sent detectives to Cincin-
Ban, OW 1 walked and talked with these
pWith cers—how I met and conversed
~ Heang Srself and your father in New Or-
dda} [have not much to explain, Ken-
Woec.,¢ Old you all that I knew, I sus-
igo); these ‘gipsies had a hand in the
Wag jc and after much inquiry found it
€. The instant I did so, I let you
t. [then tracked them to St. Louis,
vou » Of course, all trace was lost. This,
to Yo Ul recollect, I also made known
-Hthe then went in the service of
Rp), Udson Bay Company, which had
Bwhe. © me before. Some time since,
Peg, * heard that a band of gipsies had
7 South wcamped for several years on the
i eae BANK of the Saskatchewan, and
| Wr that your sister was among them.
Vera] you another note, which, after
d Months, I found Sy eee to
“Own Red River to the States, in-
Rg the bearer to drop it in the Cin-
Ost-office. This, from what I see
1. Thig Ne I judge has been done.”
“Alleg Rute igence, I need ‘hardly say,
BQ 4. €ndall and myself with wonder,
Or on, &Kened a greater respect than ever
faith guide. As Sanglid had said, he was
Nee 1, honest fellow, upon whose as-
PN, Ve could always count, and whose
Ro th Was a host in itself.
Png is € first week or ten days Kendall
_ Bitng, * Sister were together most of the
f ped Julian and myself took pains
Pot, ppeould be so. We generally kept
4 "ible to €ad that their words were inau-
| peg eeand, we never purposely inter-
a:

4 1
RNOwW ;
wh 1

en

pV

q meat: ad I was alone by the side of
Rs sked ;

Titi,” Kendall, have you any
Msp Shaving ever seen Julian before

remem-

Ay Y .

hh lage 2 remember his visit to the gipsy
Mia Whe me years ‘since, and_recognized
a not saw him again. He says he
len? in New Orleans, but I have
FP aq ection of having seen him there.
Aqile oe man.” ;

, Mition Indeed, and an invaluable ac-
cn to our party. You must pardon

) tity, but there is one point in re-
ou which has eroathy puzzled
rother and myself. If not im-
Drs 3) May I ask you the cause of the
J} agter scaling you and holding you a
It has been a source of

‘Kh as to my dear parents.
ga iel the Myself until about a year since,
ni tlleg fortune-teller, whom you met,
Aish hetbat my life would be spent
» the 1 People, revealed it to me. She
) Or} fader of the gipsies, when near
; eds, was offered twenty thou-
rh, jatar to steal a certain child, and
Nd app ly go West with her. The man
. Bixee ed him with this offer was
ye Of Y years of age, and was once a
thee MY mother’s. This step, I am
Yhap » Was taken to revenge himself
th,. "emember in going home from
» ang & man met me, took me by the
Fo, the totola me that he was going to
ANG hi See my brother. [I willingly
Yen 2, suspecting nothing wrong,
‘ah when he rowed me across the
ty 9 in th Small boat. But when I was
9% tr, © midst of the we , all
q tay’ anere aroused, an gged, en-
BAM @ med implored them, on my knees,
Rae my home again. That dark
Dart, > With whom the leader of
Conversed, stood over me and
y or kill me if I made the least
Dapp Touble. That very night the
Yembarked on a steamer, and

Yn

ery well, indeed; and I remember you | 2 ;
nd ; ? y | Enola’s horse, and always directing us,

during which time we kept constantly to-
gether. Then it was that Julian Martin
displayed his wonderful skill and knowl-
edge of these remote regions. Day after
day, as we picked our way through that
vast dividing ridge of our continent, he
walked before us, sometimes leading

‘and never once did he falter or make a

blunder. Down in those a gloomy de-
files our camp-fire twinkled like a tiny
star, far up on some towering bluff we

|moved like insects, while we took our
| mid-day meal on the rocky bank of some
'icy mountain stream.

 

NV hile on the western slope of this chain,
we suddenly met a grizzly bear, face to
face, Julian was some distance ahead and,
when he and the brute halted they were
not fifty yards apart. Instead of  retreat-
ing, the courageous fellow cocked his rifle
and brought it to his shoulder. The bear
stood silent a moment, and then with a
low, threatening growl, moved forward,
directly toward him. The latter remained
as rigid as a statue, with his gun sighted
and pointed at his. enemy’s head, while
we, breathless and terrified, paused and
watched them both. Nearer and nearer
came the beast, and still Julian reserved his
fire. My blood nearly froze as I saw him
still motionless and silent, while his foe
was not a dozen feet away. But at that
instant, when a collision seemed unavyoid-
able, we observed the flash of his gun,
heard its sharp report, and, to our sur-
prise, saw the colossal brute fall dead in
1is tracks.

We hastened forward, and were con-
gratulating Julian upon his narrow escape,
when he replied, as he rammed home an-
other charge.

“Tt wasn’t anarrow escape at all.
cool head and a steady nerve will do the
business for one of these creatures any
time.”

“But I thought a rifle bullet was not
fatal to them,” said I.

“Tf not rightly aimed, it isn’t, of course.
You might put a dozen in his body with-
out his paying the least attention to it;
but just do as I did—send it plump through
his eye into his brain, and see whether he
won't give up the ghost.”

“He is a courageous animal at least.”

“Sometimes he is, and sometimes he
isn’t. That fellow was not frightened,
that’s certain; but I have seen just as
fierce-looking ones as he is, who would
run like a calf. I take it that grizzly
bears. and men are just alike—some are
brave fellows and others are cowards.”

We encamped near this spot,.and during
the evening Julian cut off the claws of the
bear to preserve as mementoes of his easy
conquest. These claws were ‘over six
inches in length, black and. glistening,
with the ends considerably blunted by con-
tact with the stony surface over which the
brute constantly traveled.

We were now within what was then
known as Oregon Territory, and but sev-
eral hundred miles distant from the sta-
tion or fort which was the destination of
Julian. We took a direction due west
toward the Columbia River, he having
agreed to accompany us to some settle-
ment from which we could make our way
without difficulty to Califorina.

Our first day’s journey, after leaving the
mountains, was not characterized by any
incident worth mentioning; but on the
second morning we had adventure enough
to satisfy us all. It was about noon when
we reached the upper portion of Clark
River, beside which, Julian informed us,
our journey would lead for some distance.
We were on the right bank, and ascend-
ing the stream, which here takes a north-
erly direction. It was somewhat past the
middle of the afternoon, and we were
journeying leisurely along, Julian, as
usual, some ways ahead, when he sud-
denly raised his hand above his shoulder
as a signal for us to halt. We did so, and
he crept forward in a stooping position
a hundred yards farther, where, rising
cautiously to an upright position, he at
length motioned for us to approach. As
we came up, Kendall inquired the cause of
his alarm. He pointed to a sort of bulte
or pile of rocks, the top of which, from our
position, only was visible.

“Blackfeet are there!”

“Have you discovered them?”

“T never passed this spot without seeing
them. I know they are there.”

“Why did you take this direction then?
—— we not have crossed the river be-

ow

Julian shook his head.

“That pile of stones must be passed.
If we should try it in broad daylight, we
would all be snapped up in a twinkling.
There is no moon to-night, and we will
do it then.”

The rocks to which he referred were an

,

 

irregular pile, on the right bank of the
river, and not quite half a mile distant.
We ourselves were concealed from view
by a rocky ledge over which we were gaz-
ing, so that, as Kendall remarked, we were
not setting ourselves up to be admired as
we had done in a similar case before.

“But Julian,” said he, with some im-
patience, “you say that Indians are there,
and yet you have not seen them. Now
how do you know such to be the case with
any certainty?”

“To speak candidly, then, I cannot tell |
on what I base my conviction, but I am |

as sure that we have enemies among those
rocks, as I am that we are standing here.
It seems to be in the air! I believe I smell
them!” he replied with a smile.

“You are more competent to judge than
we are, and the matter of course is in your
hands. Would “that we could have your
advice and direction until we reach Cali-
fornia.”

“That cannot be, and there is no need of
it. Perhaps if you watch that place yon-
der until dark you may discover something
that will satisfy you that things are not
exactly what they should be.”

“T know not what to watch for. Is it
the smoke of a camp-fire?”

“You will not see that, neither will an
Indian make his appearance, but some-
thing else, I cannot tell you what, may
present itself, and make you open your
eyes.”

“They are already opened with wonder
to understand why the Blackfeet should
occupy that pects spot.”

“IT can tell you the reason for that. If
you will notice we are following a new
path, but not a trail—one that has been
traveled by others. Many a band of men
has gone before us, and many a one has
not passed that pile of rocks yonder. If
you are incredulous, look out pn the
prairie there, several hundred yards to the
right, and tell me whether you see any
thing that resembles bones.”

We did as requested, and now that our
attention was called to it, we did see
what had first escaped our notice. Yes;
there were bones scattered in every direc-
tion, as though a caravan had perished
there long years before.

“That- explains matters. I need not tell
you the meaning of what you see. The
first time I passed those rocks, some years
ago, came near being the last time. I
could never understand why, after avoid-
ing every trap for a month, I walked right
into that, and was only saved by an acci-
dent, or Providence, as I understand your
faith allows no accident in the occurrence
of things,” said he, glancing toward
Enola. “I halted there, just about this
time of day, took a lafsurely survey of the

lace, and then rode on, for I was on
10orsback. Before I was abreast of the
rocks my animal made a shy to the right,
and in spite of my endeavors to bring him
back, kept getting farther and farther
away. I was engaged in tugging at the
reins and kicking his sides, when crash,
crash, whizz, whizz, went a dozen rifles
and as many bullets all around me, and
looking to my left Isaw a whole band
pouring pell-mell after me. I didn’t try
to bring my horse around after that, but
let him take his own course. It was a
race for life between us; but my animal
was a splendid one, and carried me safely

coc

“Ah! I saw something else!” exclaimed
Kendall in an excited undertone, he not
having once removed his eyes from the
rocks, while Julian was speaking.

“What was it?’ asked the latter, turn-
ing his gaze in that direction.

“A boulder just now came rolling from
the top to the bottom, crashing through
the brushes and undergrowth with a
racket which you must have heard.”

“Ha! ha! the Indians had nothing to do
with that. Look now!”

There was an open space of perhaps
ten feet in length, near the pDree portion
of the bulte, and, as we looked, we saw a
Blackfoot savage stalk boldly across it
and disappear on the opposite side.

“A good sign,” said Julian. “If they
knew we were in the vicinity they never
would have displayed such carelessness.
We need have no fear.”

We kept up an unremitting watch of
the rocks until dark, but discovered noth-
ing more of the Indians.

half hour later the rocks were en-
tirely invisible, but about this time we
observed a star-like point of light glim-
mer among the leaves for a moment, and
then suddenly disappear. Shortly after it
appeared near the summit, flickered to
and fro like a fire-fly, and finally went
out inthe darkness. Nothing more was
seen, but. it was not long before signals,
imitating the call of birds, were heard
out upon the prairie, and were answered
from the rocks.

This was certainly alarming, and could
not be explained by Julian, save that it
proved we had more enemies to pass than
was suspected at first, and the routes be-
fore us were either between them, or
through their lines, in case the two parties
united.

Some project, too, was on foot, or else

 

 

 

 

O1

the signal lights. would not have been
seen, neither would the calls have been
heard. The latter ceased, and finally all
became silent.

The night fortunately was very dark,
there being no moon at all, and the sky
being continually swept by heavy clouds.
Julian had set the hour of eleven as the
proper time for starting. When he judged
that period had arrived, he asked Kendall
to examine his watch. The iatter did so
by flashing his tinder over its face, and
saw that it was five minutes past! Julian
walked first, leading the horse which held
Enola, which in this case was mine, Ken-
dall followed with his, while I brought
up the rear.

Our progress was slow, for our guide
may be said literally to have felt every
step of the way. Our great fear was from
the horses—that they might neigh or
stumble. But they proved as sure-footed
and as silent as ourselves.

We had gone I cannot tell how far, for
the distance seemed interminable, but we
must have been nearly abreast of the
rocks, when Kendall’s horse suddenly
paused. As I looked up for an explana-
tion, a low “sh!” met my ear, and I too
became motionless and quiet. I endeay-
ored to pierce the deep, inky gloom, but
could neither hear nor see anyting, save
Kendall’s animal in front of me; but I
knew Julian had some cause for this, and
I remained rigidly silent. All at once I
detected a footfall, faint, but with that
peculiar heaviness of a weighty body, sim-
ilar to what. an elephant would make in
passing over a velvety carpet. Tramp,
tramp, tramp, it came nearer and néarer,

| till suddenly the plumed head of an Indian

glided by me, not ten feet distant. I now
understood the cause of the curious, tramp-
like sound—a body of Blackfeet were going

pest in Indian file! The head was followed

yy another, and another, and still another,
until twenty-two had passed like a mid-
night panorama before me. And the
tramp, tramp, tramp, went on fainter and
fainter, until it went out in the darkness.

During this exciting moment, had one
of us whispered, coughed or moved, had
our horses stamped a foot or given the
faintest neigh, it would have sealed the
doom of us all. I shall never forget the
heart sickness I felt, when Kendall’s horse
raised his head and looked off at that
dark, shadowy line as it tramped past. I
expected every moment to hear him whin-
ney, but Kendall himself had no fear of
him. He had been in similar situations
before, and had never betrayed his master.

|The Blackfeet were gone, and we were
| safe |

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

WHY THEY QUARRELED,

BY MAX ADELER,.

—_—-

\ HE was a lovely young thing, bright,

~ and fair, and gentle. Poor Snyder

~Y met her a couple of years ago, at the

~ gea-shore, and engaged himself to
her. Then he had to go to South America
on business, and he was taken down with
a fever. He heard nothing from her, nor

|she anything from him, because the war
|down there interrupted mail communica-

tions. But each was faithful to the other,
although she had developed, during his ab-
sence, an unexpected enthusiasm for the
study of medicine, and, in fact, was tak-
ing a course of lectures at the Woman’s
Medical College.

Of course she was overjoyed when he re-
turned home, and that evening, as they
sat together upon the sofa in the parlor
her younger brother, who was conceale
beneath the sofa, heard the following con-
versation:

“No, Algernon,” she said, “I- did not
dream about you. I thought of you while
awake. But I rarely dream. My ganglia
and brain molecules are always quiescent
during slumber.”

“Oh, certainly, of course,” replied. Al-
gernon, as if he were a little uncertain as
to her meaning.

“And when you sent your telegram, an-
nouncing your arrival, my ventricular
contraction was so accelerated that I
nearly fainted. Possibly this may have
been due to the fact that my grief for you
subjected me previously to anorexy, but
my joy soon enabled me to become an-
aleptic.”

Do I understand that you were some-
how feeling badly? I don’t understand—
that is, when you refer to ventricular con-
traction. In point of fact, your meaning,
darling, is not absolutely clear.”

“Why, dear, extreme emotion of any
kind, you know, always affects the heart,
which is an azygous muscle resting on the
diaphragm, and——”

_ “You mean that your heart beat with
joy?” said Mr. Snyder.

‘That is the vulgar, not the scientific
way, of putting it, You see, dear, I had
just got home from the lecture, and I was
putting a wen in a bottle of alcohol,
which——

“A what?”

“A wen. The lecture was upon aneur-

 

 

 

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92

isms, and, after I had taken full
and tied up eight veins in an amputated

notes

leg, I put in my pocket a wen, cut out by

Professor Bickers, and came right home.”
“You don’t mean to say,” observed Mr.
Snyder, with a dazed look, “you don’t
really mean to say that you are fond of
that kind of thing?”
“Why, yes, darling.
I am studying medicine? I declare, I for-
got to tell you.” :
“Going to be a doctor? Horrible!”
“Now I hope you won’t object to it! It
will be so nice for you to have a family

Didn’t you know

 

eae right in your house—won’t it? !

f you are sick I can bleed you, or if you
break your arm I can cut out the bits of
broken bone. I can bleed splendidly.
Won’t you let me practice sometimes on

ou?”

“Certainly not!” said Mr. Snyder, be-
coming alarmed.

“Of course, when we are married, I will
keep my skeleton in the office, if it is dis-
agreeable to you.”

“Then you have an additional skeleton,
have you?” inquired Algernon, anxiously.

“Yes, darling; but of course if it is in
the office, it needn’t worry you.”

“Hadn’t you better put it in the parlor,”
asked Mr. Snyder, sarcastically, “and fix
it so that I can dangle it by a string? I
am so fond of playing with old bones.
Who did it belong to?’

“T prepared it from the remains of a

atient who died from cerebro-spinal men-

ingitis. The case was an intensely inter-
esting one. I wish I could get another
one.”

“You might, maybe, poison me for mine.
Then you could put two skeletons in the
parlor, on two strings.”

“Algernon, you are cruel. You do not
approve of my fondness for medicine. But
need I love you less because I know the
name of your ribs?) Why should my affec-
tions be decreased by my knowledge of
the construction of your carotid artery and
of the best remedies for functional de-
rangement of the liver?”

“Tove,” said Mr. Snyder, “has nothing
to do with ribs and livers.”

“And then I could teach you so much
that would be instructive. Now, I'll bet
you a quart of paregoric you have no idea
of how to-make a diagnosis of fatty de-
generation of the heart, have you? Iam
making a wax model of a fat heart, and
when it is done I will explain it to you.”

“That would look nice in the ey
too. An average jury would regard such
an outrage as affording a sufficient ground
for a divorce.”

Miss Gilpin began to cry.

“I did not expect such treatment as
this,” she said. “I thought when you
came home you would enter into my plans
with enthusiasm. I was anticipating

leasure in showing you my eight car-

uncles, two wens, and an eyeball with
cataract, preserved in bottles; to say
nothing of the wax models I have made
of eleven kinds of sores.”

“T should enjoy looking at such treas-
ures very much,” said Mr. Snyder, calmly.

“No, you wouldn’t; and I don’t believe,
if we marry, you will let me have a few
beds for fever patients in the upper rooms
of the house. I had counted on that, and
upon arranging a sort of orthopedic hospi-
tal for bow-legged children. But it is all

?

over. My dream of happiness is past
“Passed off with the bow-legged chil-

dren, did it?”

“T will not be insulted, sir!” said Miss
Gilpin, rising. “It is a far nobler work
to straighten a bow-leg than be insolent
to a defenseless woman.”

“Madam,” said Algernon, rising, “you
may, if you please, devote your life to
straightening legs. I decline to join in
the business. I loved a fair young
woman, full of girlish innocence. I came
back to find her engaged in bottling
wens, pickling deranged livers, making
wax.models of ringworms, betraying a
hideous fondness for bone-felons, thirst-
ing to bleed me with a thumb-lancet, and
coveting my skeleton. I shall never marry
a woman who loves me merely for my
skeleton. We must part. Adieu!”

Mr. Snyder went to the door and opened
it. Heturned to take one last, lingering
look. So did Miss Gilpin. A moment
later they flew into each others’ arms,
and Miss Gilpin said: a hie

Do you know, sweet, that kissing is
merely a contraction of the ovis articu-
laris muscle, this way?”

Snyder did not answer, but the boy
under the sofa says he seemed to compre-
hend, for he contracted the ovis articu-
laris muscle several successive times,
with an air of relish,

But the boy may have lied, They are
married now, and I know that Mrs, Doc-
tor Snyder has an office full of bottled
specimens, and her husband makes no ob-
jection, at least, to the fees which she
earns by her practice.
~~ 0

Look out for No. 7 of Goop News. It will
contain a base-ball supplement of the best base-

 

ball picture ever published,

 

 

Reminiscenses of the Recent Rampus,

BY HARRY HORR.

+

THE THIRD SPARK.
AND LITERARY

THE HOODOO DEBATING
SOCIETY.

CWS

“<A great falls of the Yellowstone.
Honest Ted had the seat of honor at. the
foot of the huge fir-tree, and assumed the
dignity of a Cesar as he lolled against his
California saddle, and three seconds later
put on the airs of a Herschel as he raised
aloft a wicker-bound vessel and looked on
both sides of the same at the milky-way.
The remaining ones of the circle, after a
hasty survey of their favorite planets in a
like manner, located themselves promiscu-
ously around, filled their pipes, and the
chief opened out as follows:

“Now, boys, you all remember that ever

since Geyser George and Coffee-Pot Dick .

came back from Bozeman and told us all
about their debating and literary society
there, we all agreed we could and would
afford one here. Now, you folks have had
all of two days while you’ve been out
hunting and trapping to prepare your-

apropos style. The ones who do it the
most aproposest bags the game. The first
outfit we will approach will be the de-
bate. It is ten rd pe a side, and I hold
the dust. The two guides are Quiet Jim
and Rustling Tom. The former will lead
out on the affirmative and the latter will
strike out on the unaffirmative side. The
game to be trailed is, that Napoleon was
a bigger man than Grant. Jim, waltz up
here and do your orating.”

“T don’t know,” said Jim, “how you do
this debate business, but I’ll commence
the racket by saying that a man who don’t
think Napoleon was a bigger man than
Grant is a liar.”

Here the chairman called the gentleman
to order, and defined the character of a

debate, and cautioned him against using | |

derogatory terms.

“Oh, it’s a speech you want, is it?
Well, here goes. Mr. President, ages ago
genius made a cradle and placed therein
an infant, who was rocked by the god of
war and nursed by ambition. The guardi-
ans of his intanthood stuck by him to
early manhood, when he went extensively
into the wholesale war business. He was
such a rustler that he toppled thrones and
used scepters to knock off crowns with.

 

UR camp-fire sparks were sailin
near Crystal Cascade Creek, and |
but a short distance from the two

|elk steak over their orator’s left eye, the
| Grant faction were taking astitch in their

 

 

After conquering the world and placing |

his rich relatives on thrones, and giving |
, gz

his poorer ones fat government offices an
Indian agencies, he then went to his tav-

ern and wept bitterly to think he could!
not get at the sun and whip blazes out of |

that.”
“Say, Jim, that was Alexander you’re
speaking about now,” interrupted Tom.
“Who is doing this orating?
of this Napoleon business, and you just
stick to Grant.”

I’m chief ,

‘last, while Quiet James

Confusion reigned as every member of |

the circle commenced giving his private
opinion when the chairman wished to
know if they desired to conduct the de-
bate after the Bozeman manner, or follow
the style of Congress.

“Congress! Congress!” yelled the crowd.

“All right. Then let every one of you
talk twice at once.”

But their lingo proved to be unequal to
such a congressional strain, so Jim got
the floor and concluded with:

“Well, all I’ve got to say is this: After
Napoleon roe all that mortal was
capable of doing, then he did the only
thing left to do, and that was to lay down
and die like a little man.”

“Mr. President,” ejaculated Rustling
Tom, “if Napoleon had any sand _ in his
crop he wouldn’t have weakened and gone
off and died. Look at Grant. Grant
wouldn’t be found dead fighting for such
a miserable little piece of ground as
Europe. And Mr. President, I think an
American citizen, an old hunter and scout
like Jim, when he sticks up for the little

 

 

NEWS.

frog-eating butcher is in terribly low busi-
ness and——”

The debate ended. The fire was trampled
out, there was a surging to and fro,
smothered exclamations and a cloud of
ashes rising in the moonlight, making of
this a picture sufficiently weird and gro-
tesque to charm the eye of a Dore. The
fire was rekindled, and while the members
of the Napoleon crowd were placing an

leader’s right ear, and looking in vain for
the gold filling of three of his teeth. The
chairman stated that where both orators
had acquitted themselves so admirably it
would be folly for him to declare either
winner, and he would therefore agi the
ten dollars in the contingent fund. Geyser
George remarked that owing to the great
intellectual strain caused by participating
in debates, he would move that this ex-
hilarating exercise be indefinitely post-
poned, which was agreed to, the only dis-
senting voice being that of the chairman.
The presiding genius then stated that a
prize purse of five dollars was up, to be
awarded for the best essay or poem of the
evening.

Happy Adam stated that he was_ loaded
down with a 50 caliber essay, while Wol-
verine Williams expressed a desire to un-
coil a hundred per cent. intensely interest-
ing poem descriptive of the park,

After taking in an inch from each side
of his mouth of his well-known smile,
Happy Adam commenced to read his essay
entitled, “Fruit culture in the National
Park.”

 

“Fruit was first discovered by a woman,
which accounts for its sweetness, delicious
flavor, and—and—sometimes general acid- |
ity.” Here a general murmur arose which |
was only calmed by the essayist promising |
to skip the opening chapters of his paper
and confine himself solely to the fruits
of the park. “In this domain of wonder
discovered by so-called scientists, years
after we and others had been here, can be

‘found queer specimens of nature’s handi-

work at every turn of the trail. I shall
not make mention of the Great Falls,
canyons, geysers, mud volcanoes, or sim-
ilar notable objects, but come down to the
fruits of the park. Oranges, figs, oysters,
and such tropical fruits fail to luxuriate
in this vicinity. Pears are plentiful. |

’ , Here they are very un-ambitious, and in-
selves, as the Dutch say, in a way up|

stead of growing on trees nestle close to
mother earth’s bosom. These are worthy

 

of careful study. Several points can be
had from the most insignificant among
them if one is willing to place his moc-
casined boot upon it, or momentarily sit
down upon them. The botanical term I
believe is prickly pearibus. There is a/|
different species of the fruit vegetating
here which to any one but the owner
seems simply disgusting.

“The distinguished essayist of the even-
ing had two little pairs the night before |
ad two also,
with aces’ at the head. I would not ad-
vise the young to attempt the cultivation
of this species of fruit. There was one |
raised recently on the Yellowstone of a
different variety, which is well worthy of
imitation. They are both boys, and are
thriving nicely. They are nourished with
milk and paregoric. They should not be
ripe before 21, but of late years they are
quite fresh and imagine themselves at
maturity at 12. In the latter case, care
should be taken to retard their growth by
frequent applications of birch, leather, old
slippers, or the most convenient thing at
hand. In extreme cases they sometimes
require raising from the ground up on the
end of the old man’s boot.

“Strawberries are here the year round,
the principal one being owned by Blossom
Joe. It is but due to that amateur gar-
dener to say that for plumpness and vivid
color it falls far short of the foreign article
brought here by some of the nabob tour-
ists. It is said that the prize article down
South is due to copious irrigating with
peach and honey, To the unambitious I

 

 

   

| was combined in the Bozeman

‘that the entire circle go into ha
‘of the whole, wait upon the ©

| Ga GOOSE on the Lingle
yx Harrisburgh, Pa, hatched
>

' have been assiduous in their @

‘barn and took a position at oDe@

‘was poked out as far a8

against the rat’s and his strony and "Bi

  

LEE ES ION LT NINE TE TT A et BAY EOIN AER RE Re

  
   

  

should recommend the use of Ken”

wine. However, when one raise} —
article, he should remember that Under
money, health, and honor, and all] “Pro,
to be gained is misery and a show® Many.
hibit that nose under the shadow @ carte
poor-house, or fn the cell of a pen oe
ary or an insane asylum. Z Braver
“We don’t raise any hops, thou bh! Thar
have them down at Bozeman, at BY ;
lars a ticket, with supper. a
“Beats, of the dean variety, are S™ Thetr
these parts. When found, they are ® ae
vested with a rope. aq This b
“There is vastly more to be said Wet
cerning the fruits of the park, au@% Wri
desist from a prolongation of thee Bate
simply because I don’t know what Went,
more consists of.” ay Wet
This remarkable production wast@g "len
with applause. The essayist dewey: wert
the purse, but the chairman ruled} : wet
the poet of the evening was yet ; wet
Tail from, after which he would of

his decision. The long-haired so2
muse during the delivery of the ess@ (
busily writing his poem on the ee \
an old letter. He claimed it 1)
impromptu affair, and begged thet HE
overlook ali minor defects. After ig ™ Wc
his fingers through his long rave?
giving vent to a few opening cougey
rolling his eyes skyward liken

   
 
         
 
  
     
    
   
  
     
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  

expiring hen, he then commence@— / Au
“On Linden when the sun was 10 ‘Sippy
All bloodless lay the——” ae be obtain
“Mr. President—Let’s take his W |
it,” proposed Sour Dough Jake. sescel ‘
This was unanimously acquite™ S Wipes
‘save that Wolverine Williams “Sime, ne
‘that a poet never did stand aby Wing 8
among such heathens. e boa’? mr
Jack Baronett stated that theta@?dlehe,,
more good square intellect and Ras

the square inch in this circle Ag awa
Club “he in

French Academy, but he was 4 5

observe that while genius flickere

all sides, that the coin seemed to

gate in one spot there to remal

4 peey
the cache was raised. He therefor
4 S a

aL
and request him to disgorge the i:
offered as prizes. jr Czeq\"
The committee waited upon them, ;
stood him on his head, and @ g
the money with five dollars from
vate exchequer, they passed & wile
thanks for the able and impartl the. “y Na
in which he had presided ove? “| a
and last meeting of the Nation ci nd
Hoodoo Debating and Literary oo” Side
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—~<4— 0

A Gander Settles a Rat

yO he

 

4
0
family of goslings receD

«and her mate, an impor

“?

the downy little yellow things, b®
of that a big Norway rat, horde |) fie
kind infest the outbuildings 90? at?
was smart enough to elude $
eyes of the old goose and gander, sling)
or so ago captured one of the 8° path
dragged it to his lair under the se .
few feet from the barn is a low fet aL} tow |
which is kept constantly full of W8" oi Main
is a hole three inches in circum or, is 2
the foundation of the barn, whic® i
way for rats, and it was into mht
rat dragged the gosling. ag gE
The tho old geese indulged in no ture, evi;
tations for some time over ene to* Tyo

 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   

   
 

    
 

little one, and then an idea 8 a Bina 7, fac
the gander. He andhis mate he theFRestong

  
  
 
  

confab in subdued tones, #0 t Jed Ming), © §
became quiet. The gander wed one ort in)
the rat hole under the foun@®™ 49 Migs pe

  
 
 
  

ate oe
a d

 

He stood there motionless and
his eyes fixed on the hole.
ten minutes or more when the

hurled y ( of

    
 
  
  
  
 
   

Quick as a flash the gander

    

      
  
   

 
 

over its neck. The rat sque® gpe” a ag
gled, but he couldn’t get aW@Y>, pjaDEPsog. Aa)
goose set up a vociferous 8M aed Bie thi’
squawking, and the gander W8"" ges, fi matt
as he could to the horse trOU8" 4 pi?) doy lin, St
the rat under the water, and 0 Blais Dlag Ss

     
  
 

  
    
 

   
  
     
   
  
   
 
 
  
 
 

r n geet
until he was drowned. The nd, Oe na
threw the carcass on the Br nti I
two old geese picked and tore par td lo
scattered in bits about he

   

nd

Whether the rat was the on® ne wre
the gosling is of course not ner VE
geese were satisfied with WC) piety
and after tearing the dead 1 of 80%
fully conducted their family pelt ”
the duck pond and gave the™
ercise in swimming. ;

id pipes

ver
A GERMAN chemist has now Oe Df
make artificial grindstones, AI" gygn@® ”
invent a boy who'd rather tu! ‘nx
to fish, the world will be well

  
  
 
       
  
   
    
     
 
  
       
  

 
 

 

GOOD NEWS.

[73

 

7“ FouGHT IN THE SAME
of Keni CAMPAIGN.
, raises in ty

thas ie Under the folds of the flag we love,
id alle Manly we stand to-night,
show % “ty of the heroes are up above,

adow Of Alter the weary fizht.

a pe 9 the roll of the Blue and Gray,
f . raver eye who weer aback and brave—
y nN ne’er faced a tray,

theta Than fought in this same campaign.

’ " a

4% CHORUS.
y, are see ie Names and deeds shall ever live in

hey ae :
y ‘ myallant boys who died but not in vain,
be said? Wer Our boast, this be our toast—
k. and fought. in the same campaign.
hy

of the # “inked and scarred though to-day we be,
yw what Well tered, and old. and gray.
yw. “Sour pride that from sea to sea,
was recy) Pri mesh with Grant and Lee,
1 a Pp S Were we In the days gone by,
st ia Brine and joined again,
n rul i ate We'll be till the day we die—
as yet © . ought in the same campaign.
would : CHORUS,
d son
hem 6 SWIPES;
1 the 4
it_ to
ged thel HE W OR,
Aten = ORST Boy IN THE WARD.
o° coughs ae.
iken ull A By “FRANK,”
nced— Mthor of “Smart Aleck,” ete.
was loW Wg ‘ Re dS
F be obtas 88 Commenced in No.1. Back numbers
> his W €d of all Meee sotaide. | :
ke. of eesearee
rs HIE Ibes wa SYNOPSIS.
ee ay! wet, his oe Orphan, Herr Frankfurt Noodle-
n a Dg tha ed Ployer, was a relative of Swipes,
sr, NS Dears, the boy’s aunt. Swipes had a very
at th ce ee. but was as full of deviltry as old
und gent dA eure ually was of beer. Swipes was
tha Bee chi rant in Noodleheimer’s beer saloon,
"he “ED the Musement of the old German was
ine. Mornin Sor with Swipes about twice a week.

I's p>, ot Noodieheimer told Swipes that

y oe had died and left a large sum of

that tye bien they could secure only on

Wi, ey abstained from quarreling for

me Mere ¢ 8 promised to be good. While

lt the wc'Slug, Professor Cicero Gallus

: tne “Old-tir oon for an “eye-opener.” As he
ne Beto Diver eer he had often seen Noodle-
e t 7 aot the a Swipes, and to please the pro-
ie 6 Swi F moon, he at once commenced to
4 Hin and his surprise old Noodleheimer
TT painted an epoPped the floor with him. He
ye neq, With telanation, and was made ac-
MAeng Aly ca 1€ provisions of the will, which
Deng © Swi Sea him to become a staunch
Cupar ed Hern Our hero also had another
ney On, " Orrhage, who was a reporter by
celibenty ad Proges.(20K° from choice. Mr. Noodle-
om lden ot Whine Gallus have many thrilling
Dero Sane Swipes and Hemorrhage are
Pnq , Ss Bao. lors, but the reader will see, as
% columns, that our hero and bis

Ze
CY

‘ are
Frely 0 ad

0 ttlsh to ha black as they are painted,” and
-fveq er ge he & laugh at the expense of the

6 yi? let r, sf nen. One day the professor re
J out Mba thee’ “Blackstone Briggs,” which
-ched Sth 4t he had come ; a
iC tly nu quglana ee {ene into ap immense
e o al ATOUCH the death of Sir Mar
ya ie ma! end ig that the title of baronet
P trent? Oday t® Presene The letter requested his
FOE: Aor, ang cyt” Boston. The professor,
: Mg Star Seen Wipes at once set out for Bos-
ie: 8x o heq New © Occurred on the train just be-
fe Ago, Pt our meaven, when all the passen-
2 Of the Cara o® made a trantic rush for

—— 2

NUMBER sIx.

8 ,
WIPES py BOSTON.

| Now
ef. HS pp. be
ence atin the mes our painful duty to ex-
h is a Rog of th 4use of the singular con-
spell reer xpress as on board the
mgt r ao who, as the reader
jomculp: ed f,,) “Tose almost in a body,
tlkings; ftom th i,
df e in Tema, i car, at the same time
x dently rks of a highly personal
“hehe faathei y eimed at our two friends,
oa Re begat will hot Professor Gallus.
the?! Ssihj, Ze this © Tecalled that a short
d Jed 7 “Blea Swi oeneral exodus the irre-
saopiiegae sees I He,
ORY tw S8enoe. ? CBild-like way wit
p Ye 8 travelfnn®

Ss whe & companions ought to

n the 5 i »
a y saw him engaged
tion with’ PPatentl confidential
ing & gig an elderly maiden lady
onchiet ide of the aisle that there
; gon R2Req FOF. But they were so
ae tR a) ce talking about the old
id ad lang 4,PPoved prospects, and in
7 macttion n is theeties of collossal “rack-
MW. thy! his fo.0¢ man should gain
ere Sm ink an, Srtune, that they had no
el 4 bi? sho clings Now shin about the youth.

e Silay ren, Yas it harrows u
pent yo emg etree Sw Sega ern that
TO i) Ee yes, Ipes and the ol
-e it wnt C8 gy to such sesious ae

the  apte © ‘
that alla Bro, anerROON, is it not, miss?”
‘now? al frat 8 side an Into the seat by
jx Ve eiatin,| and expression ne into her
hotly ae BBA 2 of countenance
vai 1at no one not

kl uinted? with hi a

ling tine’ - peculiar
d him of iatasil inhek,
maid did intent.
a not, for, after

Ce, she replied
“* boyy wut why do you call me

‘think you are awful. You know you don’t

 

“Because I can see that you are far too
young to be married,” replied the reckless
Swipes.

His venerable companion giggled hys-
terically.

“Now you stop!” she ejaculated. “I

mean one word of that.”

Swipes’ face wore a shocked look as he
said:

“Surely, miss, you cannot think me ca-
pable of telling a deliberate falsehood?”

“T hope you would not,” said the old

ady.

“Well, I should hope not, too. No, in-
deed? The fact is, I am thinking some of
studying for the ministry and going to the
South Sea Islands as a missionary.”

“Indeed ?”

“Yes, miss. Are you traveling far?”

“To Boston.”

“Indeed? I should think you would be
afraid to travel alone, you are so young.”

ae the old maid, who must have
been at least fifty, suspected Swipes for a
moment of “guying” her, for she looked
very sharply into his face. But it wore
such a serious, concerned expression that
if she had any thought she must have
banished it at the instant.

“Yes, I am afraid a little,” she admit-
ted kittenishly.

“Yes, I should think you would be.
Why, if I did not have those two gentle-
men over there with me I should be aw- |
fully frightened. I am of a very timid |
nature, and have always been that way.” |

“Ts one of those gentlemen your papa?”
inquired the lady.

“No,” replied Swipes, “but they have '
both of them been second fathers to me,
so to speak. I would ask them to protect

 

By this time the old maid was pretty
well “wrought up,” and her unprincipled
companion Pipaght it time to give her the
alleged information that she was working
so hard to get.

“Well, then, Miss Spriggs,” he said,
“T’ll tell you all, but on your head are the
consequences.”

“Go on, go on!”

“You notice what a peculicar com-
plexion the smaller one of those two
gentlemen has?”

The professor, we should mention, if we
have not before, was extremely sallow.

“Yes, yes?” gasped Miss Spriggs.

“Now, does not a good look at his face
lead you to suspect the awful truth?”

“Heavens! what do you mean?”

“But he don’t look so very bad, after
all,” continued Swipes thoughtfully. “I
don’t believe that any one would suspect,
unless I told them, that those two old
men are just out of the yellow fever hos-
pital, do you?”

Miss Spriggs waited to hear no more.
With a shriek she arose, and without
waiting to reply to the youth’s query,
rushed out of the car.

Swipes watched her with a sweet, sad
smile, murmuring to himself:

“Now, how hasty some people are? I
didn’t say that the professor and Mr.
Noodleheimer had been in the hospital; I

only asked a little simple question, and |

she ought not to have skipped out in that
manner.”

Then he arose and went back to his two |

friends, feeling quite sure that this would

not be the last of the matter. And he was |

right. There wasa friend of Miss Spriggs’
in the car, a gentleman, who had wit-
nessed her sudden departure with wonder,

 

 

TR at
wes HA iff
LO i
PU a ean}

Cl Zo

 

Ha
on

i

 

 

‘‘NOW,” THOUGHT SWIPES,

you, too, only I don’t think it would do,
the circumstances are so peculiar.”

“I don’t exactly understand you,” said
the old maid curiously.

“Do not press me for an_ explanation,”
said Swipes, pretending to bé a good deal
agitated. “They would kill me if I told.”

“Why, what can you mean?” squeaked
the lady. “There could not be any harm
in telling me.”

Swipes knew well enough that when a
woman, and particularly an elderly un-
married woman, tries to find out a secret
she is going to succeed every time; but he
thought he would tease her a little longer,
so he continued to refuse with such an air
of mystery that she could hardly sit still
for curiosity.

At last she said:

“Now Swipes”~she had found out his
name by this time—“you must not think
that I am actuated by a spirit of idle curi-
osity, but I feel sure, from your manner,
that this secret is one which, as a fellow-
passenger of those men, I ought to know,
and I insist that you tell me.”

“Oh, ‘well, if you insist,” said Swipes,
“of course I have got to tell you. hy
didn’t you say that before?”

“Of course, you have got to tell me,”
cried Miss Spriggs, as the old lady was
named. “Out with it, now, little ‘oy.
Do not be afraid.”

“Oh, yes, I’m _ afraid!” whined Swpies,
with a terrified glance at Mr. Noodle-
heimer. “Please don’t ask me anything
more about it.”

“But I will, I must. If you do not tell
me at once I shall be com elled to call the
yn and lay the whole case before

m.

 

“THERE'LL BE A CIRCUS.”

and who now took it into his head to fol-
low her into the next car and learn the
cause of her evident agitation.

He did so, and the old maid repeated to
him all that Swipes had told her, and a
good deal more, for such stories never lose
anything in the repetition.

e returned to his own car, filled with
horror and indignation, that two yellow
fever patients should be permitted to thus
endanger the lives of so many persons.
He repeated what he had heard with nu-
merous variations, and within ten minutes
every one in the car knew all about it, ex-
cept the professor and Mr. Noodleheimer,
who continued their conversation, quite
unconscious of the interest they were ex-
citing.

But they found out very soon, as we
have seen; and, as stated in our last,
while they were wondering why all their
fellow-passengers were departing in such
haste,* the conductor entered and ap-
proached them.

It was evident from his face that he
meant to take some decisive step, but he
did not want to come too near the old men
and risk becoming infected with the dread
disease. Standing about ten feet away he
shouted as he pulled the bell-rope:

“Now, see here! I’m going to stop this
train, and I. want you two to get off in
double quick time. See?”

Mr. Noodleheimer and -the professor
stared at him with wide-open mouths.

“Vas you grazy?” demanded the former
at last. =

“What is the meaning of this outrage?
stormed Professor Gallus, while Swipes
began to sob bitterly.

ow if the conductor had been of a less

| excitable and impulsive nature explana-
| tions might have ensued, and Swipes have
been placed in a somewhat awkward posi-
ition. But he disdained to reply 5 and, the
train having now been brought to a stand-
still, he beckoned to a brakeman to come
jand assist him in ejecting the two un-
lucky old men. This was’done in very
quick time, and Swipes followed his
friends, his handkerchief to his eyes.
| “This shall prove the most expensive
| day’s work this company has ever done,”
|roared the professor, picking himself up
'from the spot where he had fallen, an
digging about a quart of sand out of his
right ear. “This outrage shall be known
} throughout the length and breadth of the
land. The idea of treating me, Sir Cicero
| Gallus, an English baronet, with such in-
| dignity! I’ll—I’ll ruin this road, that’s
what I’ll do!”

“Yes, I would strongly advise you to do
so, Sir Cicero,” said our hero. “But what
do you su poe all this means? Why could
those bold pad men have us put off?”

“T am at a loss to imagine. But I'll find
out—trust me for that. Just wait till I
get my money.”

“Yes, 1 would advise you to wait till
you get your money before you do any-
thing about it,” said the youth. “But
there’s no use standing here any longer;
we've got to foot it to New Haven and
wait there for the next train, so the sooner
we're off the better, for it’s growing dark.”

This was good advice, and Swipes’
companions decided to follow it. Mr.
Noodleheimer did not like to walk much,
and the professor had never distinguished
himself as a pedestrian; but there was no
help for it, and off they started.

The old men were pretty well played out
when they arrived at New Haven, but
oo was as fresh as a daisy, and all
ready for another “racket,” if an oppor-
tunity peers itself.

Another eastward-bound train arrived
about ten minutes after they reached New
Haven, and the professor, who was wild
to get to Boston at the earliest possible
moment, insisted upon going on, although
Mr. Noodleheimer would gladly have rested
until morning.

As luck would have it, every berth in
the two sleeping-cars attached to the train
was taken, and the luckless travelers were
obliged to sit up all night. This was not
so bad for Swipes, but it was very “rough”
upon his companions, who, as the reader
will remember, had spent the previous
night in a cell in a police station.

And to add to their sufferings, Swipes,
whenever one of them fell into a doze,
would manage to awaken him in some
way. The result of this and of various
other little eccentricities in which the
youth saw fit to indulge during that me-
morable trip, but which we have not space
to detail, was that by the time they
reached Boston the professor and his Teu-
tonic friend were nervous wrecks.

But nevertheless Professor Gallus braced
up, for he believed that he was soon to
meet Mr. Blackstone Briggs, the English
lawyer, whose letter had summoned him
to Boston.

“We'll make up for all we have suffered
in a few hours,” he told Mr. Noodle-
heimer; and, consoling themselves with
this reflection, they wended their way to
the Parker House.

“Tt’s too early to wake up Mr. Briggs,”
said the professor, when he and Mr.
Noodleheimer had been shown to their
private parlor—for nothing less than an
elaborate suite of rooms would do for them.
“Besides, I must present myself to this
lawyer in the style befitting an English
baronet, and my toilet will take time.’’

t did; and it was nearly ten o’clock
when the professor rang for a hall boy,
and directed him to take his card to Mr,
Briggs and inform that gentleman that he
was ready to see him.

“Briggs?” said the boy, doubtfully. “I
don’t think there’s any such person = stop-
ping here, sir.”

“Nonsense!” said the professor, haught-
ily. “They will give you the number of
his room at the office. Go.” ;

The boy departed, but in a few minutes
he returned, saying:

“T was right, sir. There’s no one of the
name of Briggs stopping here just now.

“This is very singular,” said Professor
Gallus in perplexity. ee

“Here's a int for you, sir,” added the
boy.

An,” said the old man, “this will,
doubtless, explain all.

It did. It was the composition of
Swipes, and it read as follows:

«DEAR PROFESSOR GALLUS:

«Did you ever get left?

‘* BLACKSTONE BRIGGS.”

“What the mischief does this mean?”
gasped the professor.

Then it slowly dawned upon him that
he had been the victim of a trick.

_“T have been made the sport of some de-
signing scoundrel,” he yelled, having ex-
hibited the letter to Noodleheimer and
Swipes.

mse a

haf ein chob put oop py you alretty.”
“Oh, this is infamous!” wailed Swipes.

 

ah,” said the Dutchman, “somepody

 

oot Pee nar tenn

pucerniniiomsiteecnt vite

= = — a
A Nei 5. tema “ebmeccnanastn na

sar

at

ao BE i fi =

SSS

eee

;

= =

SRE TION ;

oS

 
ot

Goonyp

   

 

NEWS.

   

 

“Then you are not Sir Cicero Gallus after
all.”

“Und you haf not dot money got,”
howled Mr. Noodleheimer. “Py chim-
miny, I haf lost mine zwei hundred tol-

”

“Bah! what are your paltry two hundred
dollars to the millions that I believe
mine?” moaned the professor, pacing the
floor with his hand pressed to his forehead.

“Dey vas a goot teal more, py cracious!”
shouted the angry Teuton. “Aber, bro-
fessor, you vill bay me pack?”

“Certainly I will, as soon as I am able.
In the meantime I am bound to hunt
down the wretch who has played this
trick upon me and avenge myself.”

“Oh, how I do hope you will find him?”
cried Swipes, rolling his eyes. “Do you
suspect any one, professor?”

“{ do not, for I was not aware that I
had either a friend or an enemy in Boston.
But I will find him, never fear.”

He did not, however, although he spent
all day in making inquiries.

“Nefer mind, brofessor,” said Mr. Noodle-
heimer, consolingly, “ve vill dink no more
abowit dot to-night. I brobose dot ve go
owit und baint der down ret.”

Of course, Professor Gallus agreed with
alacrity, and they did, indeed, paint the
town a deep vermilion that evening. The
returned to the hotel at about two o’cloc
in the morning and aroused Swipes and
most of the other guests from their slum-
bers by their warbling of “The Sweet By-
and-By.”

When they arose at nearly noon they
were badly broken up, and decided to re-
turn to New York by the next train. They
did so, and we wish we could give some
of the details of their journey, during
which Swipes had considerable fun; but
space forbids.

For some days after their return things
went along in the usual way; nothing of
special note occurring until one morning
about a week later, when an opportunity
for another racket was given Swipes.

At about ten o’clock on the morning in
question our hero received a visit from
one Mr. Archimedes Bluster, a _ profes-
sional politician, who lived directly op-
posite the saloon. ;

As soon as he entered, Swipes saw that
he was a good deal excited.

“Swipes,” he began, leaning confidenti-
ally upon the bar, “I believe that you are
my friend.”

‘Of course I am,” cried the youth.

“Will you do me a favor—if you are
well paid?”

“Certainly, Mr. Bluster.”

“Very good. Now I will tell you a
secret. I have reason to believe that m
wife is carrying on a flirtation wit
Noodleheimer and with others in this
neighborhood.”

“Is it possible?” cried Swipes, pretend-
ing to be greatly surprised. But he was
not, for he and every one else in the street
knew that Mr. Bluster was intensely jeal-
ous of his wife.

“Yes. Now I want you to watch Mrs.
Bluster. You can do so without being
suspected, and you have a good chance,
Do you agree?”

2 truce so. You said something about
a consideration, I think?”

“Certainly I did, Swipes. I do not ex-

ect you to work for nothing. You shall
bs liberally rewarded. Here is a quarter
for you. Ah, here comes Noodleheimer;
he must not see me. I will call in again
this evening and you may then have some
news for me.”

And he hastily slipped out of the side
door.

“This is what he calls libera: pay, is
it?” muttered Swipes in a tone of disgust.
“Well, that’s the worst I ever’ heard.
There’s no use talking, I’ve got to get
some fun out of this. But how?”

Of course, it did not take our ingenious

oung friend long to think up a scheme.
The fact that he did not like Mrs. Bluster,
who had offended him in several ways,
made the task all the more congenial.

That afternoon he wrote notes to about a
dozen men in the immediate neighbor-
hood, including Mr. Noodleheimer and
Professor Gallus. The contents of each of
these communications were as follows:

“Please meet me at G——’s restaurant to-
morrow at3 P.M. Iam very anxious to have a
short private conversation with you. Wear a
rose in the buttonhole of your coat, and let your
handkerchief protrude a little way from your
pocket, so that I shall have no difficulty in iden-
tifying you as soon aslenter. Say nothing of
this to a living soul. I cannot now reveal my
name, but will simply sign myself

« BIRDIB.”

When Bluster called that evening Swipes
told him that if he wanted to dae tears
about the manner in which his wife was
accustomed to spend her time he could go
to G——’s restaurant the following day ‘at
ts t at liberty t

“Tam not at liberty to say more.”
added, “but I have been doing siege? Png
detective work, as you will find.”

With this the enraged husband was
forced to be satisfied, and he took his
leave, promising to be on hand at the reg-
taunant at the appointed hour.

“Do not be surprised if you see me

 

 

there,” said Swipes as they parted. “In
my capacity of detective I may have to be
present.”

The next morning he sent a note to Mrs.
Bluster, telling her that if she was curi-
ous to know something about the move-
ments of her husband when he was away
from home she would do well to visit
G——’s restaurant at three that afternoon.
He knew that she was nearly as jealous |
as her husband, and would be sure to be
on hand.

At half-past two Swipes put a rose
about the size of a small cabbage in his
buttonhole, and started for the restaurant.
He expected to have lots of fun, and he
was not disappointed.

He found nh of his victims on hand,
and a pretty uneasy looking lot they were
as they surveyed each other and wondered
what it all meant.

The professor and Noodleheimer were
seated on opposite sides of the room, glar-
ing at each other, and Bluster, who was
the only man in the restaurant who did
not have a rose in his buttonhole, was on
hand and evidently in a white heat of
rage.

Swipes seated himself in a corner, unob-
pean by either Mr. Noodleheimer or the
professor, and waited developments.

He did not have to wait long, for he had
scarcely taken his place when Mrs. Blus-
ter entered, heavily veiled.

Instantly all eyes were turned upon her, |
and every face, with the exception of her}
husband’s, was wreathed in smiles.

“Now,” thought Swipes, “there’ll be a
circus.”

There was.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

Only an lrish Boy;

Andy Burke's Fortunes and Misfortines,

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.,
Author of ‘‘Ragged Dick,” ‘‘Fame and Fortune,” |
“Sink or Swim,” “Tattered Tom,” “Brave

and Bold,” etc. ~

_

{“OntyY AN IntsH Boy” was commenced in No. 1
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. ]

eee

SYNOPSIS.

Andy Burke, who was “only an Irish boy,” was :
fifteen years of age when our story opens. He
had been working for a farmer some distance from
his home. His mother was a poor wid »w, who
lived in Crampton with her daughter Mary, who

 

was eleven years old. Andy was on his way home,
his work on the farm having ceased, when he en-’
countered Godfrey Preston, the fifteen year old
son of Colonێl Anthony Preston, the wealthiest
man in the town of Crampton. Andy had stopped |
to inquire of John, Mr. Preston’s hired man, the
way to his mother’s residence, when young God-
frey, Who was a very haughty lad, had called him |
a beggar. Andy resented the insult, when God-
frey undertook to thrash him, but was himself
whipped by the Irish boy. In the midst of the |
battle Mr. Preston came along. Belng a sensible
man, and not relishing the overbearing conduct of
his son, he took sides with Andy, when John ex-
plained why the boys were fighting. This greatly
angered Godfrey, who at once sought his mother,
Mrs, Preston, who was very much like her son in |
disposition, always took sides with Godfrey, and
in this instance told Mr. Preston he should have
condemned the Irish boy. As Godfrey could get |
no satisfaction from his father, and being too
much of a coward to again openly attack Andy,
he resorted to a mean trick for revenge. Mrs.
Burke occasionally received work from Mrs. Pres-
ton, and Godfrey suggested that his mother should
cease to give the widow any more employment.
This Mrs, Preston did. Mrs. Burke was grieved at
losing her work, but Andy cheered her with the
promise of soon finding something to do. He
started out in search of employment, and was for-
tunate enough to secure work at the home of a
couple of spinsters named Priscilla and Sophia
Grant—the compensation to be five dollars per
week. The Misses Grant were very kind to Andy,
and when school opened in September they con-
cluded to let the Irish boy receive an education.
While at school one day Godfrey Preston took ad-
vantage of one of the smaller boys named Alfred
Parker, and was thrashing him, when Andy in-
terfered and gave Godfrey a sound drubbing.
Godfrey at once reported Andy’s conduct to the
teacher, Mr. Stone, who at once inquired into the
affair, and when the truth was told, instead of
punishing Andy, the teacher reprimanded God-
trey, greatly to that young gentleman’s disgust.
AS soon as Godfrey arrived home he informed his
mother of what had occurred. Mrs. Preston re-
quested a call from the teacher, and as the visit
(f Mr. Stone resulted in a clear vindication of
Andy and the condemnation of Godfrey, Mrs. Pres-
ton became very angry and refused to allow her
son to attend school while Mr. Stone occupied the
position of teacher, Christmas came, and Andy
was not forgotten by his employers. One day in
the following September Colonel Preston Grove to
Melville to receive his dividends on some mill
stock he owned in the town. While in the hotel
at Melville, the colonel was introduced to. aman
called James Fairfax. During the conversation
which followed the introduction, Mr. Fairfax men-
tioned the fact thathe was about to visit Cramp-
ton, and the colonel invited him to a seat in his
chaise. They rode along for some time conversing
on vartous topics, when suddenly Fairfax jumped
from the chaise, seized the horse by the bridle,
and leveling a pistol at the colonel’s head, de-
manded his money. Seeing there was no escape,
the colonel produced his pocket-book, when there
Was a sudden crash in the bushes behind Fairfax,
his pistol was dashed from his hand, and Andy
Burke stood between the robber and his victim,
With his gun leveled at the highwayman’s head,

 

 

CHAPTER XIX.
BAFFLING A ROBBER.

was only a boy, it is true, but he

p
Af) looked cool, and resolute, and the
AcXy

=>
Fe ses on paused at Andy’s threat. He
ip

gun, which was pointed at him,
looked positively dangerous. But was he
to be thwarted in the very moment of his
triumph, by a boy? Hecould not endureit.

“Young man,” he said, “this is dangerous
business for you. If you don’t make your-

, self scarce you won't be likely to return at

all.”

“T’ll take the risk,” said Andy, coolly.

“Confound him, I thought he’d be fright-
ened,” said Fairfax to himself.

“T don’t want to kill you,” he said, with
a further attempt to intimidate Andy.

“T don’t mean to let you,” said our hero,
quietly.

“You are no match for me.”

“With agun I am.”

“T don’t believe it is loaded.”

“Tf you try to pick up that pistol I'll con-
vince you, by the powers I will,” said Andy,
energetically.

“What is to prevent my taking away the
gun from you?” ;

“Faith,” returned Andy, quaintly, “you'll
take the powder and ball first, I’m thinkin’.”

Fairfax thought so too, and that was one
reason why he concluded not to try it.

It was certainly a provoking position for
him. There lay the pistol on the ground,
just at his feet, yet if he tried to pick it up
the boy would put a bullet through him. It
was furthermore provoking to reflect that,
had he not stopped to parley with Colonel
Preston, he might have secured the money,
which he so much desired, before Andy had
come up. There was one other resource,
He had tried bullying, and without success.
He would try cajoling and temptation.

‘Look here, boy,” he said: ‘I am a des-
perate man. I would as lieve murder you
as not.”

“Thank you,” said Andy.
not have it done.”

‘T don’t want to hurt you, as I said be-
fore, but you mustn’t interfere with me.”

“Then you mustn’t interfere with the
colonel.”

‘T must have the money in his pocket-
book.”

“Must you?
to say to that.”

‘‘He has eight hundred dollars with him,”

“Did he tell you ?”

“No matter; I know. If you won’t inter-
fere with me, I'll give you two hundred of
it.”

‘Thank you for nothing then,” said Andy,
independently. ‘I’m only a poor Irish boy,
but I ain’t a thafe, and I never mane to be.”

“Bravo, Andy!’ said Colonel Preston,
who had awaited with a little anxiety the
result of the offer.

Fairfax stooped suddenly, but before he
could get hold of the pistol, Andy struck
him on the head with the gun-barrel, causing
him to roll over, while, by ® quick and
adroit movement, he himself got hold of the
pistol before Fairfax had recovered from the
crack on his head.

“Now,” said Andy, triumphantly, ‘lave
here mighty quick, or I’ll shoot ye.”

“Give me back the pistol then,” said the
discomfited ruffian.

“T guess not,” said Andy.

“Tt’s my property.”

“T don’t know that.
from some thraveler.”

“Give it to me and I'll go off peaceably.”

“T won't take no robber’s word,” said
Andy. ‘‘Areyou goin’.”

“Give me the pistol,
you like,” :

“That you may load it agin? You don’t
catch a weasel asleep,” answered Andy,
shrewdly. ‘I’ve agreat mind to make you
march into the village, and give you up to
the perlice,”

This suggestion was by no means pleasant
to the highwayman, particularly as he re-
flected that Andy had shown himself a reso-
lute boy, and doubly armed as he now was,
it was quite within his power to carry out
his threat.

“Don’t fire after me,” he said.

“T never attack an enemy in the rare,”
said Andy, who always indulged in the
brogue more than usual under exciting cir-
cumstances.

I make this explanation, as the reader
may have noticed a difference in his dialect
at different times.

“We shall meet again, boy !” said Fairfax,
menacingly, turning at the distance of a few
feet,

“Thank you, sir. You needn’t thrubble
yourself,” said Andy, “I ain’t anxious to
mate you.”

“When we do meet, you'll know it,” said
the other. ;

‘But I'd rather

Maybe I'll have something

Maybe you took it

Fire it off first, if

 

 

“Maybe I will. Go along wid ye
Andy, pointing the pistol at him.

    

  

   

“Don’t shoot,” said Fairfax, hastily

  

he quickened his pace to get out of
of a dangerous companion.

Andy laughed as the highwaymaa
peared in the distance. _

“I thought he wouldn’t wait lon
said. eS

“Andy,” said Colonel Preston, W#
‘you have behaved like a hero.”

“I’m only an Irish boy,” said Andy
ing. ‘Shure, they don’t make heroes af
as I.” an

“IT don’t care whether you are an
Dutch, You are a hero for all that’ 7%

‘Shure, sir, it’s lucky J was roune™s
that spalpeen wanted to rob you.” 3)

“How did you happen to be oul}
gun this afternoon?” ae

“TI got my work all done, and Miss
said I might go out shootin’ if EW s
Shure I didn’t expect it’ud been TODMM
would be afther shootin’.”

“You came up just in the nick of
Weren't you afraid ?” [5 st
“T didn’t stop to think of that wheRay ~
that big blackguard p’intin’ his ere “
you. Ithought I’d have a hand WEG"
self.” Sal
‘Jump into the chaise, Andy, and ride?

with me.”

“What, wid the gun ?”

“To be sure. We won't leave thes
That has done us too good servic®
to-day.” ai

‘I’ve made something out of it ne
said Andy, displaying the pistol, whi f
silver-mounted, and altogether. very Fi
weapon. “It’s a regular beauty,” he™*
admiration. a

“Tt will be better in your hands™ ge |
the real owner’s,” said Colonel Presa

By this time Andy was in the chais®
idly nearing the village. oa

“If you hadn’t come up just a8 % mi
Andy, I should have been the Pp
eight hundred dollars.”

“That’s a big pile of money,”
who, as we know, was not in the
having large sums of money in his Of
session.

“It is considerably more thal * oi
like to lose,” said Colonel PrestoB Y wee
it was of less importance than to An y aig

“I wonder will I ever have 89 9
money ?” thought Andy. a it A

“Now, I'll tell you what I think hy
right to do, Andy,” pursued the colom®” )

Andy listened attentively. of

“T’'m going to make you a present
money, as an acknowledgment of |
vice you have done me.” 0g

“T don’t want anything, Colonel Pot
said Andy, “I didn’t help yo!
money.” daa

“T know you didn’t, my Jad,’ ayo!
colonel, ‘but I mean to give it @
the same.”

He took out his pocketbook,
made one more remonstrance. xe ib

“I don’t think I ought to ta%® =
thankin’ you all the same.”

“Then I will give you on 10
lars for your mother. You cannot

for her.” aclight,
wo

  

cu
‘a

   
   
 
 
    

%
oe f

 

   

t eae

     

4.

ish! Bx

 

 

a
v
q

said pi rae) «
ha"

nt

- See

0 ,
me fay
D

  
    
   
   
    
    
 

wetienraere eS

  
   

7

   
   
  
    

“speegayeg

  

pat

    
    

  
 

2

Andy’s eyes danced with
knew how much good this money ior!
his mother, and how far it would re 4 a8
from the necessity of working so hat
was now compelled todo. |

“Thank you, sir,” he said.
my mother’s heart glad, and save
hard work.” ®

‘Here is the money, Andy,
onel, handing his young compa?
of bills. test?

Again Andy poured out warm oe gift
of gratitude for the magnificeD 1 ase’:
which Colonel Preston was well Pandy,

“TI believe you area good boy, poy
said. “Itisa ee where #
so much of his mother.” | |, +4 Ape

“I'd be ashamed not to, 81% said nde

They soon reached the villag® apd
down at the Misses Grant's 891. p
soon astonishing the simple i@° i }
narrative of his encounter W#
wayman. $i

“Do you think he'll come perme
Sophia, in alarm. “If he shoul
Andy was a a

“You could fire the gun ‘

“I should be frightened to d0¥t ag

“Then he couldn’t kill you ®") isthe

“Just so,” answered Sophi™%
wildered. » ghe

‘‘Were you shot, Andrew?
minute afterward. ae gaid

“If I was, I didn't feel it "7
jocosely.

Andy’s heroic
more valued by the
rejoiced in the handsome §
ceived from the colonel, a2

  
  
   
 
   
   
  

het

    
    
 
 
 
   
   
 
  

   

 
 

  

 
    
   
  
   
   

           
       

   
 

    

 

   
  
 

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yourself; oP

 
    
     
  
  
  

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achievement mad
Misses GT# ‘

ft be Del
ron ”

 
  

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is.

 

  
   

  
 

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M permission to carry it to his mother
Alter supper.

  

CHAPTER XxX.

HOW ANDY’S MOTHER RECEIVED THE NEWS.

  

     
   
   
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
     
  
   
  
   
  
     
 
  
   
      
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 

eS
T is always pleasant to carry good news,
et and Andy hastened with joyful feet to
ee his mother’s humble dwelling.

 

 

W 4
a “Why, Andy, your out of breath.
Andy, t's happened?” asked Mrs. Burke. _
oroes ff “IT was afraid of bein’ robbed,” said
are Iris ee “The robber wouldn’t get much that would
hat.” 4 | 8l from you, Andy.”

‘round 4 “I don’t know about that, mother. I ain’t
1 "0 Poor as you think. Look there, now!”

e out wit, ; ere he displayed the roll of bills. There

ee ¥ an twenty fives, which made quite a thick
Miss a

if Twa] | , Where did you get so much money,

 

n robb idy ? asked his sister Mary.
4 ‘How much is it?” asked his mother.
ick 84] A hundred dollars,” answered Andy,
Proudly.
3 > .*A hundred dollars !” repeated the mother
is pist™] ha apprehension. ‘‘Oh, Andy, I hope you
} _ *80't been stealing.”
} © . “Did you ever know me to steal, mother ?”
raridel ld Andy.
whe” but I thought you might Le tempted.
“ose Money is it ?”
‘It S yours, mother.”
vice # Be ine!” exclaimed Mrs. Burke in amaze-

| Ment, “You're joking now, Andy.”
it any™y ‘No Tm not. It’s yours.”
whid} ‘Where did it come from, then?”
. very Pe Olonel Preston sent it to you as a
” he sil mfxent.”

‘a>: Anne afraid you're not telling the truth,
inds Up ho said his mother, doubtfully. ‘Why
Pres ~ ould he send me so much money ?”
chais® isten, and I'll tell you, mother, and

You'll see it’s the truth I’ve been tellin’.”

as your fur €reupon he told the story of his adven-

e poor & © with the highwayman, and how he had
¥ed Colonel Preston from being robbed.

 

said AY poe 18 mother listened with pride, for though
the bap hag Spoke modestly, she could see that he
ris OWRF} acted in a brave and manly way, and it
Be ae her proud of him.
ap 1M 0 the colonel,” Andy concluded, ‘‘want-
on, OWT like Sive me a hundred dollars, but I didn’t |
, Andee” to take it myself. But when he said he
179 80 © . 4 give it to you, I couldn’t say any-
Paes and; ag’inst that. So here it is, mother,
ink i: self» Ope you'llspend some of it on your-
colon @

 

 

 

 

 

i ty. don’t feel as if it belonged tome, Andy.
> «eS You that he meant it for.”

” Wer ¢P it, mother, and it'll do to use when
~ “Rade it.”

s thes don’t like to keep so much money in
> «ose, Andy. We might get robbed.”
Mother can put part of itin aSavings Bank,
i er,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

   
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    
 
   

, y
it Bef 18 Course was adopted, and Andy him-
i thy a wtied eighty dollars, and deposited it
., bab Ag” After 2gs Bank in Melville, a few days
Aa Tward,
take ih” Bee Anan While Colonel Preston told the story
A T.. ton, dy’s prowess, athome. But Mrs. Pres-
undree meg prejudiced against Andy, and list-
ot PEP uy coldly.

; ia’ Seems to me, Colonel Preston,” she
leligh e Of tha you are making altogether too much
oy WO ts, tIrish boy. He puts on enough airs
lre > aX one sick.” ;
pard - Mo Rever observed it, my dear,” said the

oh 8 ay’ mildly,
«Tt x Em ; i ryone else can. He thought himself
ve be % yo with our Godfrey.”
aid beg ke MPeots Godfrey’s superior in some re-
pio? : thoes Well if you are going to exalt him
tat aay Your own flesh and blood, I won’t stay
rote f ey Sten to you.”
nt gif dea, °u disturb yourself, unnecessarily, my
pier Bi i pj have no intention of adopting him
, ADC © Sey oe of my son. But he has done a great
, boy” > Xe, © “his afternoon, and displayed a cool-
‘ hig 24 courage very unusual ina boy of
said sR bang? But for him, I should be eight

* oa tig ® ers poorer.”
te, > 8q 1° Vell, you can give him fifty cents
dies Hy yg hewitt tie ie Ae cere
: the PM You call et paid for his services as

’ Pest ny cents !” repeated her husband.
ere ow «7 --» & dollar, if you like.”
cont 4 < «4 °8¥e him a hundred dollars.”

gop) ~p Undred dollars!’ almost screamed
Lf, a Oo “Are Feston, who was a very mean woman,
th. ata «00 insane ?”
ere a ey that Lam aware of, my dear.”

a de A Sum Perfectly preposterous to give such
sit Pe qe’ a boy.”
ne. m

 

motret to say that I gave it to him for
: ee He was not willing to accept it

 

 

i
eo).
ei

 

 

 

 

at's a likely story,” said Mrs. Preston,

ee “He only wants to make a
Mpression upon you—perhaps to

°re out of you.” ne oe

" misjudge him, my dear.”

 

 

 

     
       

   

 

 

 

GooD NEWS.

“T know he isan artful, intriguing young
rascal, You gave him a hundred dollars,
yet you refused to give Godfrey ten dollars
last week.” ;

‘‘For a very good reason. He has a liberal
allowance, and must keep within it. He
did not need the money he asked for.” i

“Yet you lavish a hundred dollars on this
boy.” :

“I felt justified in doing so. Which was
better, to give him that sum or to lose eight
hundred ?”

‘*T don’t like the boy, and I never shall. I
suppose he will be strutting around, boast-
ing of his. great achievement. If he had a
gun it was nothing to do.”

“T suspect Godfrey would hardly have
ventured upon it,” said the colonel, smil-
ing. RE.

“Oh, of course, Godfrey is vastly inferior
to the- Irish boy!’ remarked Mrs. Preston,
ironically. “You admire the family so
much that I suppose if I were taken away,
you would marry his mother, and establish
her in my place.” :

“Tf you have any such apprehensions, my
dear, your best course is to outlive her,
That will effectually prevent my marrying
her, and I pledge you my word that, while
you are alive, I shall not think of eloping
with her.” :

“It is veryavell to jest about it,” said Mrs.
Preston, tossing her head.

“T am precisely of your opinion, my dear.
As you observed, that is precisely what [am
doing.”

So the interview terminated. It was very
provoking to Mrs, Preston that her husband
should have given away a hundred dollars
to Andy Burke’s mother, but the thing was
done, and could not be undone. How-
ever, she wrote an account of the affair to
Godfrey, who, she knew, would sympathize
fully with her view of the case. I give some
extracts from her letter:

“Your father seems perfectly infatuated with
that low Irish boy. Of course I allude to Andy
Burke. He has gone so far as to give him a hun-
dred dollars. Yesterday, in riding home from Mel-
ville, with eight hundred dollars in his pocket-
book, he says he was stopped by a highwayman
who demanded his money or his life. Very singu-
larly, Andy Burke came up justin the nick of time
with a gun, and made a great show of interfering,
and finally drove the man away, as your father
reports. He -is full of praise of Andy, and, as I
said, gave him a hundred dollars, when two or
three would have been quite enough, even had
the rescue been real. But of this J have my doubts.
Itis very strange that the boy should have been
on the spot just at the right time, still more
strange that a full grown man should have been
frightened away by a boy of fifteen. In fact, I
think it was what they call a‘put up job,’ I
think the robber and Andy were confederates, and
that the whole thing was cut and dried, that the
man should make the attack, and Andy should
appear and frighten him away, for the sake of a
reward which I dare say the two ave shared to-
gether. This is what J think about the matter. I
hayven’t said so to your father, because he is so in-
Jatuated with the Irish boy that I would only
make him angry, but I have no doubt that yow will
agree with me. (It may be said here that Godfrey
eagerly adopted his mother’s views, and was
equally provoked at his father’s liberality to his
young enemy). Your father says he won’t give
you the ten dollars you asked for. He can lavish
a hundred dollars on Andy, but he has no money
to give hisown son. But sooner or later that boy
will be come up with—sooner or later he will show
himself in his true colors, and your father will be
obliged to confess that he has been deceived. It
puts me out of patience when | think of him.

“We shall expect you home on Friday afternoon
of next week as usual.”

Andy was quite unconscious of the large
space which he occupied in the thoughts of
Mrs. Preston and Godfrey, and of the extent
to which he troubled them. He went on,
trying to do his duty, and succeeded fully
in satisfying the Misses Grant, who had
come to feel a strong interest in his welfare.

Three weeks later Sophia Grant, who had
been to the village store on an errand, re-
turned home, looking greatly alarmed.

_**What is the matter, Sophia?” asked her
sister. ‘You look as if you had seen a
ghost.”

“Just so, Priscilla,” she said; ‘no, I
don’t mean that, but we may be all ghosts in
a short time.”

‘‘What do you mean?”

‘* SMALL POX Is IN TOWN !”

“Who's got it?”

_ “Colonel Preston, and his wife won't stay
in the house. She is packing up to go off,
and I expect the poor man'll die all by him-
self, unless somebody goes and takes care
of him, and then it'll spread and we'll all die
of it.”

This was certainly startling intelligence.
Andy pitied the colonel, who had always
treated him well. It occurred to him that
his mother had passed through an attack of
small pox in her youth, and could take care
of the colonel without danger. He resolved
to consult her about it at once.

(TO BE CONTINUED. )

—>—-0-->—____—__

A MAN is said to be absent-minded when he
thinks he has lett his watch at home and takes it
outof his pocket to see if he has time to return
home and get it,

 

 

 

 

 

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No. 29. SMart ALEcCK "WAY Down East. By

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No. 32. Bitty Brieut. By Aaron DeWitt. (Comic.)

No. 33. THE Two AVENGERS. By Francis A. Duri-
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No, 34. THE SHADE OF DIAMOND Dick. By W. B.
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No. 35. THE BROTHERHOOD DETECTIVE. By John
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No. 37. CAST-IRON BILL. By Lieut. Preston Graham

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No, 39. BounceR Brown, JR, By Will Winner.
(Comic. )

No. 40. No SLoucn. By Leander P. Richardson.

No. 41. BOUNCER BROWN, JR.’8 PHONOGRAPH,
AND WHAT HE Dip WitH It. By Will
Winner. (Comic.)

THe NuGGer Lrsrary is. for sale by all news-
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95

THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

Issued Every Thursday.

Price, 10 Cents Each.

Z
2

1, THe WHITE Cars. By Marline Manly.
No. 2. THE KEWANEE BANK ROBBERY. By J. R.
Musick.

ZZ
9
a

3. SEVEN PICKED MEN. By Judson R. Taylor.
. JESSE, THE OUTLAW, a Story of the James
Boys. By Captain Jake Shackelford.

"A
S
a

. THE WHITE CaP DETECTIVE. By Marliné
Manly.

No. 6. CAPTAIN Kare. By Leander P. Richardson.
No. 7. THE PINERY DEN DETECTIVE. By Mark

Merrick, Esq.

No. 8, BILL TREDEGER, a tale of the Moonshiners,
By Ned Buntline.

No. 9. THE Irn1tsHJuDAS; or, The Great Conspir-
acy Against Parnell. By Clarence Clan-
cool.

No. 10. THE GOLD-HUNTER DETECTIVE. By Marline
Manly.

No. 11. THE OKLAHOMA DETECTIVE. By Old Broad-
brim.

one

No. 12. THE MINER DETECTIVE. By Ned Buntline.

No. 13. HARRY LOVELL, THE GENTLEMAN RIDER.
By Sherwood Stanley.

No. 14. DIAMOND DICK IN ARIZONA. By Delta Cal-

averas.

. THE GREAT CRONIN MYSTERY. By Mark

Merrick, Esq.

No. 16, THE JOHNSTOWN HERO. By Marline Manly,

No. 17. SILVER Mask. By Delta Calaveras.

No, 18. THE OYSTER PIRATES. By Eugene T. Saw-
yer.

No. 19. LOUISVILLE LUKE, THE JOCKEY WONDER.
By Jack Howard.

No. 20. GUISEPPE, THE WEASEL. By Eugene T.
Sawyer.

No. 21. CATTLE Kare. By Lieutenant Carlton.

No. 22. OLD MAN HOWE. By Wm. O. Stoddard.

No. 23. PHENOMENAL PAUL, THE WIZARD PITCHER
OF THE LEAGUE. By John Warden.

No. 24. THE SHANGHAIER OF GREENWICH STREET.
3y Henry Deering.

No. 25. DARROW, THE FLOATING DETECTIVE. By
Ned Buntline.

No, 26. HuGO, THE FIGHTER. By William H. Bush-
nell.

No. 27, JACK, THE PEEPER. By Harry Temple.

No, 28, THE GREAT YACHT Race. By Marline
Manly.

No, 29. THE Licguts 0’ GorHAM. By Ralph Royal.

No. 30. SHADOWED AND TRAPPED; Or, Harry the
Sport. By Ned Buntline.

No. 31. THE HUMAN VAMPIRE. By K, F. Hill,

No. 82, RAMON ARANDA, THE CALIFORNIA DETEO-
TIVE. By Eugene T. Sawyer.

No, 33. THE RoaD AGENTS. By Leander P. Rich-
ardson.

No, 34. Kentucky Kate, By Marline Manly.

No. 35. BoB SINGLETON. By David Lowry.

No. 36. His HIGHEST STAKE. By Edwin S. Deane.

No. 37. Cy, THE RANGER. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

No. 38. a THE CHICAGO Sport. By Edward Min-

urn.
No, 39. BARNACLE BAcKsTay. By Ned Buntline.

No. 40. THE GREAT RIVER MysTERy. By Bartley
Campbell.

No. 41. THE Stony Pornr TRAGEDY. By Mrs. Alice
L. Fogg.

No. 42. THE HATFIELD-McCoy VENDETTA. By W,
B. Lawson.

No. 43. ReD RuBE Burrows. By Edwin 8. Deane.

No. 44. Pigrai. Demons. By Harry Temple.

No. 45. MOUNTAIN Tom. By Ned Buntiline.

No. 46, GOTHAM BY GASLIGHT. By Dan McGinty.

No. 47. THE BLACK RIDERS OF SANTOS. By Eugene
T. Sawyer.

No. 48. THE OCEAN DETECTIVE. By Richard J.
Storms.

oe

No. 1

on

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No. 49. THE YOUNGER BROTHERS’ Yow. By Jack
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No. 50. FRANK AND JESSE JAMES IN MEXICO. By
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No. 51. JENNIE, THE TELEGRAPH OPERATOR. By

R. M. Taylor.
No. 52. RazziE-DazzLE Dick. By Donald J, Mc-
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mond.

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son.

No. 58. ORTHODOX JEEMS. By Ned Buntline.
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No. 61. JESSE JAMES AT LONG BRANCH. By W. B.
Lawson.

No, 62. Ramon, THE BULL-FIGHTER. By Francis A.
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25 to 81 Rose st., New York,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SSSR

do Hn any mam acenas 0.

 
  

96

 

GOoonD NEWS.

  

 

 

 

 

Puzzle Corner.

[Original contributions solicited. Address, ‘ Puzzle
Editor” Goop NEws, New York City, P. O. Box 2734.]
ep ee ee
No. 1—WorpD SquarE—
1 A paint.
2 A tree.=
8 Strings.
4 Manifest.
5 Abodes.

No, 2—TrIppLeE ACROsTIC—
Primals name a country: centrals name a
crown; finals name a color.

1 Timber cut in asmall size.
2 A meditator or peacemaker.
8 To humble.

4 To repeat.

5 A relation.

No. 3—DousLE DIAGONAL—

1 A kind of linen.

2 A vehicle.

3 Part of a house.

4 A city of the United States,

5 A proof of a will.

6 To foreshow.

7 A boy’s name and a river.

Diagonals, read down, name two American
Cities.

KIT.

AxH-LOOK,

QUILL.

No. 4—HIDDEN CrTIES—

1 Is Henrique Beck with the French army ?

2 Can Archibald win the prize?

3 How long is Landis to stay ?

4 Are you alone, Jackson ?

5 Were you ever in New Arkansas ?

6 Grandpa, rise early in the morning so

Wwe can leave for town.

7 Oh, Hanrey, come here quic ly.

8 Shall yon sun set on my vengeance ?

SHORTY,

No. 5--PYRAMID PUzzLE—

1 Always in haste.

2 A tree.

3 To ensuare.

4 independence.

5 Adorned.

Centrals naine a flower,

SILVER MASK.

No. 6-—-A RiwpLE—

REVEN GE.

 

Serr eer reer ee

 

 

 

 

 

A demon, unconquered, this worlé I roam; |

In all countries aud climates completely
at bore.

J have hurt many a home, peopled many a
grave,

My dupe, once ensnared, becomes my will-
ing slave.

But the strangest of all that I will to you
tell,

Is that my victims do all love me well.

And in my embrace their troubles forget,

A
Though they know that | bring thei dis |

honor and debt.
CRANE
No. 7—BLANKS—
The dashes are to be filled with words of
the same pronunciation but spelled differ-
ently.
1 She looked

 

from earrying the heavy

 

 

 

 

2 I will you if you pull another
3 Do cu this
4 Mr. uses a ———

 

OLIVER JEAN;
No. S—NUMERICAL ENIGMA—

The answer cantains eleven letters and
givesthe name of a poet, actor, and scholar.
The 5, 9, 10 is part of the body,
The 6, 3, 4, 11 is to agitate
The 7, 5. 3, 10 is a fruit.
The 1, 7, 3, 10 is to box.
The 6, 7, 5, 3, 10 isa painted weapon,
The 1, 2, 9, 10, 5is an animal

JENNY MAy,

No. 9—CHARADE—

My first you'll see in every ship,

My second in the midst of my third ;
And that one of Spain’s nobility.

My whole an animal of which you’ve

heard
SUNSHINE,
No. 10—TRAnNsposirion—

Heat and cold alike I bear,

Although against my will;
By my latent name it will appear

Why I am standing still.

Dear readers of the bright Goop News,
Exert your utmost skill;

My name transpose, ’twill then disclose
Where I am standing still.

Again transpose ingeniously,
And then you may fulfill

What you must do most certainly
In the act of standing still,

M. O. N.

No. 11—REBUS—

 

|

 

 

 

  
   
  
 

; your opinion regarding our paper.
| enclose was made by a die used by a notary pub-

| On the coin referred to.

| advise you to be very careful what treatment
| | undergo.

} | any indoor trade we know of.
| fair, but could be improved with a little practice

 

 

 

Ansmers to. Puzzles in No, 2 Good News

No. 1—WorpD SquarE—

aor t
S LEE
TEN EI
No. 2—INITIAL CHANGES—
1 Lake, rake. 2 Rice, dice. 3. Hour, four,
5 River, giver. 6 Plank, flank,

No. 83—DIAMOND—

od
pt
yvoarw
Aooorars”,
HaRoOon
HOw

No. 4—Loaocrrpu—
Pant, ant, tan, an.

No. 5—Dramonp—

ie
BAT
BORES
PARTNER
TENET
SET
R

No. 6—SQUARE WorD REMAINDERS—
C-O TT O-N
S-T E A M-S
S-T A R E-D

M-O M E N-T
No. 7—DECAPITATIONS—
C-rack,
No. 8—CHARADE—
Frankfort.

No. 9—TRANSPOSITION—
Breath, Bertha.
No. 10—HALF Worp SquarE—
POWDER

OVOID
WORD
DID
ED °
R
No. 11—HIpDDEN TREES AND Brrps—
Cedar. Pear, Raven. Owl, ’ Canary,
Thrush.
No 12—Cross WorRD ENIGMA—
Portugal.

ANSWER TO REBUS IN NO. 2,

In Street & Smith's Goop News you will find
something to please, and food for the mind,

THE NAMES OF THE SUCCESSFUL
GUESSERS WILL BE FOUND ON THE
87th PAGE OF THIS ISSUE, —

 

 

Short Stops.
TO BOIL & éierde-ine nk seaseill g coffee,

“TLL come to thee when daylight sets,” as the
lamplighter said to the lamp.

Wuy should the sea make a better housekeeper
than the earth? Because the earth is dirty and
the sea is tidy.

Why is a newspaper like a toothbrush ? Be-
cause every one should have one of his own, and
not be borrowing his neighbor's.

A BURGLAR sometimes breaks into a man’s chest
with false keys; but a woman attempts to break
into his heart by means of false locks.

A younG lady who went to the city to see what
was advertised as a “Spectacular Drama,” came
home greatly disappointed. She says not one of
the actors wore spectacles.

A Brown County editor bought his ink by the
jugtul, because he could get it cheaper, but his
wife went to fillthe inkstand one morning and
found it wasn’t ink by a jugful.

“MA,” observed Blobb’s little child, reflectively,
the other night, as the first stars came out “don’t
you think that when those stars winkle that way
they must tickle the angels’ feet ?”

THERE Was once alegislator who laid by $30 000
in one session. When he was asked how he man-
aged this with a salary of $1,000, he said that he
saved it by doing without a hired girl.

WHEN you see amanon a moonlight night
trying to convince his shadow that it is improper
to follow a gentleman, you may be surs it is high
time tor him to jo'n a temperance society.

“T sranp upon the soll of freedom,” cried a
Yankee stump orator.

“No,” exclaimed his shoemaker; ‘‘you stand in
a pair of boots that never have been paid for.”

“Sam, why am arooster on a fence like a
nickel ?”

“Dunno.’

‘Cause de head is on one side, and de tail on de
odder.”

FORBEARANCE Is not always a virtue, even in a
aclergyman. Imagine the feelings of the rural
divine who, after getting fifty cents for marrying
a couple, found that the bridegroom had gone off
with his new silk hat,

A poctor, like everybody else at this season,
went out for a day’s sport, and complained of hav-
ing killed nothing,

“That’s the consequence of having neglected
your business,” observed the wife.

“How charmingly naive she 1s,” said a young
beau toa crusty old gentleman.

“Knave !” exclaimed the latter, gazing through
his spectacles toward the coquettish beauty indi-
cated, ‘1 should say more of a fool.”

“Was the crowd tumultuous ?” inquired one
man of another, who had just come from a mass-
meeting.

“Too multumous ?” replied the other. ‘Oh, no;
ut cmultumous enough to comfortably fill the

all.

 

Our Mail Bag.

[Questions on subjects of general interest only aré
dealt with in the ‘Mail Bag.” Medical or Yexal
questions not answered.
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there

 

fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks
| after we receive them.] + iv

beens dl

John Roth (Trenton).—An apprentice to the trad® q

you mention usually receives $3 per week.

Luke B. Farrel (Providence).—We'thank you for
The copy you
lic.

A, H.—There is no premium, to our knowledges’

We can send you a coil:
book containing address of dealer, etc., for tel

| cents.

R. S. (Boston).—It would be a difficult matter for
us to say who would win the Brotherhood Pel
nant this year. Have you read our Base Ball Prize
Contest ?

H. H. F. (8. Dak.).—We know nothing that will
remove printing from paper without injury to the
paper. Your writing is good. We will start an e&
change column very soon.

Henry Morgan (Boston).—1. Apply to any Euro-
pean steamship office in your city and they will
furnish the desired information willingly, 2, The

| letter *« A” contest closed in No, 4.

J.N. and C. N.—Any coin and stamp dealer will

| furnish you with a premium list of valuable cols
| Salt water has a tendency to rot clothes.
| can be saved, however, by washing in fresh wal

They
before the salt water has dried,

Guidon (Washington)—We regret to say that we
cannot publish your puzzles, as you failed to send
us the answers to them. . When sending contribu.
tions for ‘Puzzle Corner,” please send the answers
at the same time,
that have obsolete words,
that you like our paper.

A, Dunce (Chicago).—1. We will start an e
change column very soon. 2. We do not answer
medical questions. The eyes are the most impor

tant make-up of the human system, and we would
0}

We are glad to leara”

3. Yes, the printing trade is as gi
Your writing 8

M. W. (Chicago, Ill.).—In 1856 the cent was madé
of an alloy of copper 88 per cent. and nickel 12 pet
cent. Weight72 grains. The device was an eagle
flying with the usual legend. In 1859 the eagle W

| displaced by an Indian head, and in 1864 the alloy:
| Was changed to copper 95 per cent., zinc and tin

each 24g per cent. Weight 48 grains, The dale
of the issues referred to are therefore 1856, 185%

and 1864.

Paul D, (N. Y. City)—Judging from your letter
and writing you are intelligent and quick, a0
bearing these two important qualifications ip
mind, we should say you could learn the Key-
board of a type-writer in a week, and get Up ‘
good speed in three months. Your complail!
about not being able to stop reading Goop NE t
we cannot give youarecipe for. lt isan ailme®
that will do you good instead of harm.

3elow is the score ofia very exciting game played
at. East New York, May 17, 1890. It took ten Me
nings to decide the game.

GOOD NEWS NINE VS. GOERCK, JR.

12345678 9 10 Tota ©

Goerck, Jtv..i.4 1102 3.3.12 0-1

Goop News....0 0 100 069 1 6-2 7)
BATTERIES—Goop News, Harprecht and Herring

Goerck, Jr., Lepore and Kormann, :

Charlie Ox (Jersey City).—To show how simple
and interesting it is to find the percentage ole
club we will work one for you.
lor an example, with a percentage of .659. Gare
won, 83; games lost, 43. Affix three ciphers t? fe
number of games won, thus, 83000. Then add $
number of games won, 83, to the number of gay
lost, 43, making a total of 126. Divide the 83000 r,
the 126 andthe result will be 658 and a fraction,
in round numbers, .659. ;

William E. (Brooklyn).—We hardly know what
trade or business to suggest.
against you tor learning a trade, and your lack K
education for learning a profession. We one
some light office work would suit you, where val
would only have to mind the ofti e, write ony
opes, and other light work. We would sugges:
law office, where the writing hours are feW, a
the duty consists chiefly of answering questlo
of visitors. Your writing is fair, and, with SO7™
little practice, would be rated good.

Annie (Peoria, Ill).—Stammering is an affection
of the vocal and enunciative organs, causing
hesitancy and difficulty of utterance, respectil>
the origin of which many opinions have beet ted
vanced. The impediment is greatly aggravaeg
by depression of spirits, derangement of the 1B
tive organs, or physical d: bilty ; but these h e
nothing to do with the primary cause OF “sq
trouble. The strength of the impediment Hes |

habit, in mismanagement of the breath ane arly ia

gans of utterance, rendered habitual in the nds
years of lite, and the removal of the defect depe of
upon the mastery over the mechanical agents a
speech. If this is attained, the natural nervo .
ness connected with stammering will pass 4 se

A, Highton (N. Y, Cify).—1. Neptune is the ™
distant known planet. Its ‘iistanse from the ont
varies between 2,863,000,000 and 2,629,000,000 M0 ray
2. The school-ship St. Mary's is under the oor of-
of the Board.of Education. ‘of this city, and ited
ficers of the school are detailed from the bat a
States Navy. The pupils receive no pay, for
post-graduate course, by which they are Ne eed
the position of first and second mate, bas
established, and is said to be doing good work ons
young men readily obtaining responsible pos
on leaving the ship. The St. Mary’s left thiS ta.
on May 10 for her summer cruise. She has & cae
six boys on board. 3. The pay of a West Polt
det is $540 per year. 4. Send us your joke
they are good, we will publish them.

0
Nothing like it ever drawn before.

News,

Goop NEws goes to press 4

  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
     
 
 
  

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Were —
7 D
fer to our base-ball supplement in No. 7 i”