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5 ae SOG i OU oe. a. OM, aes ee om . a : tae . “ee? . °.,° ea a ie
2. . the children might do almost anything| “He must have some one to play with.”
* . . ° J on , . .
e Ox O eC a l Y ) ] without her interfering with them. | “Granted; but he needn't associate with
° “I hope you didn’t beat the boy,” re- | those beneath him.” z
2 marked Mrs. Smithers, after a pause. | “The Barkers are hard-working and
va “He ran too fast for me,” replied| very respectable,” Mrs. Smithers, ven-
a By BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG Smithers, “and took refuge in Neighbor | tured to observe. f
he ; Author of “Jack Harkaway Series,” ete. Barker’s house.” | “Oh, very!” answered Smithers, sarcas-
Sa ee eee “He'll be all right there, and when he| tically; “very much so indeed. I’m not
ae CHAPTER I. | Mrs. Smithers always looked sad and| wants his supper he’ll come in,” said| saying anything against them. Still they
z INTRO | worried, which w x der he had | Mrs. Smithers | are not on a par with us, and if your first
D Seed . ) was no wonder, asshe ha < bers. : d pé us, J 1
UCES THE READER TO TOMMY. | to put up with a reat deal from her hus- “It’s a pity we can’t choose our neigh- | husband was a mechanic and left you with
| ' } g | * I : om , ‘ .
OTHER!” , : . | band. | bors!” exclaimed her husband. There's | an only child, an infant at that, togoand
as ye eae Perio She was a bad manager, was idle, and | that Barker—he’s an undertaker; it’s a| work and die in the Nevada mines, | am
Ben su Te time ND: ro arige sal - oe | hated a disturbance of any kind, so that’ ghastly trade, and I’ve remarked that | not supposed to share your tastes.”
M. “t at b rane a ~ or. overnling. | Tommy is more} “Poor man,” said Mrs. Smithers, “there
TL inet: Smithers”. ae re fat-look he i S ibteatat Bons gedit friendly with| was no work for him here. It was the
fire’ blonde littl 21 and Shapley + aoa iit Rs : ———— | ii Charley Barker, | time of the war, and he thought he would
She “ars of a - Pe oa a eae = * the coffin-mak- | do so much better for all of us out West.
bac sas p dine ee a ae ae er’s son, than he| He promised to send for me and Tommy
aNd wip, -2Ging, and regarded her hus- is with his ; -
“With a wearv ai is with his own | soon. ‘ rc
« Vhat y?” st y ate dl: ‘dl brother and sis-} “Well, he died, and he couldn't help
§; As if yo did, ae ee 1 ter. | it,” put in Smithers, who was ina bad
hithers, u didn’t know,” replied Mr. temper.
Ve hay “We can’t always
«Oh, thre two,” she said, calmly.
iW met boy, Tommy.”
t) Done | has he done now?”
bert anny he is always doing some-
fore | urd. I told him’ this morning,
do what we propose;
and Thompson, my
i dear, dear first hus-
WV band, was as good as
: Ti nit: they make them.”
"the ent out, to cut up all the wood H| T “~ a a bold
aw 3 ic CDS Ae A lL! at IMT speech for her.
bin,» aca’ he’d do anything you'd tell | rane I Mi MRE “Thompson!” re-
ONC] nts Irs. Smithers, in a tone A LL iil Hill Wie: peated Smithers, in
| lation: « ’ " , ; } i = DUTTA t | HH} ; x
please, n; “he’s only too anxious to | i WiiWii Pa HANH a withering tone of
aed at .™, Positive that he has been | WAVRIII | eT WINE | ANT voice.
lo in Work all day, for I heard him | Ae ; UHH “I’m sure Thomp-
gents te B and Sawing.” } i \| | ait i Mi | i} i ili son is as genteel as
y the Noi Ped ang “ered Mr. Smithers, “he’s ATH HIT aT ae oo —as Smithers,” said
‘reets pon Cdly aj Sawed a little too much. | 1 Do AAT | ||) om his wife.
thlled 5 Id he cut up the wood, but he’s | | ets WH | Il HA Hit “Possibly it may be
ae Bis Yard . the fences on both sides of A) ’ TAINT A TABLE-CLOTH- ali} MMT in your estimation;
1 thee®-Ving nt up the supports of the | HAA IT'S A SHEET” i i
“ Saw.by, and even made fire wood of aa i| Ta Pee eae qT Mil!
of boy's too f, 1H i PT a i, CR ACN LC | | || |
‘Do tee Want ull of zeal; in fact, the poor | i VAM gL LE ere WI | Hh
oe fyoined, ® f° do too much,” Mrs Smithers HHH mn rm PAT Me i H
se tteeats as Ee oughtn’t to one him | |} jl . i The ign WHIT | | |
$0 beak,” € grows older he’ll know | jj}}/|| TN RAE: a | |) ee
ss mid donde; Hh sod a ES ee ll
ee tei” re Mat ma’am. I doubt it very | |//// Mii i f en h :: Paige Wii ANT
befo.Ptied her husband, seating him- | || ‘sy i ee At ; WA
; nal Smite’ stove, | HH UY a Ny Wa
i bey in pp2erS was a tall, consequential | |||Il Pe mT ty \ i it
i whe prime = life, dark in com- | |'||| EX GANIIIE my | Hi }
ay 9 Wi ob bad looking. i | ~ I MMA TT eT
mang °° 48 a widow when he married | 1 7 Y a pe it) Wt ut H WHT) Hl HV
| sy Smithen” one son, the Tommy of | || |} AN fo | NTH TUTHHUHTA HAH PH Wat H} HT eT
Sotnttiond p 8 was now complaining. SUT Ye NUTT mn HHH | Hi
Dist, Tom. ?™™y was commonly called 4 Pull: -a\\\l HTT A wii]
riety of hey: on account of the sim- ee i (GR - 2 Hh WN THAT 7g aN HHI
Hitk he 'S nature and the numerous : See 711111 ttl Hi eS i
feticg® e Ras 1 pemeantly inaking.
aq “te-]5,). “Hirteen, and he wasa pale,
, an yt dred king boy, witha mild voice
By “ecided °¥ fair hair, thin lips, and
Ton her marert of mouth,
ang Y's motiage with Mr. Smithers,
1. the 4, Siri, Ww her had two children, a boy
bong g&h-soy © had respectively received
ind My Mithere a? names of Harold Stam-
for al New Smith and Alice Regina Smithers.
oor Mag OTK dry Dimself was a clerk in a
Ty Mite [riet Da ¥-goods house, and he resided
ire’ Tom 4, Th Of Jersey City, about half a
veld ton’, priq the fer ; ,
wo Beret himseie upon being high-|
: ’ Self upon being high-
lin Pats magtbove all ety traces Kolsted t at =
tr ae little | In his own house. :
| ss Peo} t, for sh 's. Smithers knew this to |
ns W “ting ly on »eceived many ascolding, | |:
. Q« Ommy’s account, without | ===
mT Bint ate back?
1 very fond cf_ his t
Pee Mp pbetold stamford and Alice | =
e On. of whom he spoilt dread- | |== :
Wenn” Wag 1 | i= > : SSS = : 7
‘ ——: SS mn
OF Nath disave™> the other ten, and they | | eS = ‘31 UW hy
ety, eq on nceable, self-willed, and = wn : = ee Hay
f tit €r-indulgence could make cnet = : weil HUBLI ES
i ky =
ds
© lop yMithers had a step-father’s
thi, To
in Mmy,
op prie® an
|
hate eel ais ea
q Ris ce CATCHING SIGHT OF TOMMY, DARKEY JOHN RAN OUT OF THE SHOP AND CHASED HIM UP THE STREET, WHILE CH ,
*arely ga! he frequently heat ENTERED THE STORE AND FILLED HIS POCKETS WITH CANDY.
cits
1346
GooDyp
but we will not discuss the question. Be
good enough to get my supper ready,”re-
plied Smithers, with a grand wave of the
arm.
“li do that with pleasure, only do
make some allowance for Tommy—you
know he is subject to the chills.”
“You give me a chill, talking so much.
Where are Harold and Alice?”
“Gone visiting,”
“Oh, yes. I forgot that I gave them
, a > foe)
permission this morning to visit the Mac-
phersons. Highly respectable family the
Macphersons. I will goand bring them
home in a couple of hours’ time. The
ground is slippery with the frozen snow,
and they might fall and hurt themselves.”
Mrs. Smithers sighed.
She wished her husband would be as
kind to Tommy as he was to Harold Stam-
ford and Alice Regina.
Smithers had taken the trouble to go
to Fulton market and buy six dozen
oysters, which he wanted roasted, and
his wife went to get them ready for
supper.
Meanwhile
Mr. Barker,
room.
Tommy hung behind at the door, for he
was afraid of his father, but the under-
taker who was a fiery, shock-headed
Tommy, accompanied by
the undertaker, entered the
little man, free and easy in his manner, |
and fond of his glass and his pipe, walked
right in.
“Good evening, neighbor,” he exclaimed.
“I’ve brought your boy back.”
“Ah! Barker! Pray take a seat,” re-
plied Smithers, who, though he disliked
the undertaker, was secretly afraid of
him.
“T can stand.”
“Sit down, I say: you’re just in time
for supper. Oysters from Fulton market.
First-class, I tell you.”
“No, no,” said Barker. “Ionly came
here with Tommy because he was afraid
to come alone. You won’t lick him, now?”
“T don’t see
it, really, Barker.”
“He did not understand about cutting |
up the wood.”
“That is the trouble of it; he never will
understand,” replied Smithers, with a
complacent smile.
“He's a good boy enough, and he and
my Charley get along together first rate.”
“Stay to supper, and’ we'll talk this
thing over.”
“Well, I don’t mind if I do, though its
more for Tommy's sake than for anything
else,” answered Barker.
“Tommy!” exclaimed his father,
down and help your mother.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Tommy, his face
beaming with smiles, as he saw that
Barker had got him off the thrashing he
expected.
His father kept a rattan in the corner
of the room, which he devoted to Tommy's
“
go
sole use, it never being employed upon|them on the stove in a big dish, while I
the favored persons of Harold Stamford
and Alice Regina.
“Now, Smithers,” said Barker,
ought to let up on that boy.”
“Why sitonla I, when he’s the fool of
the family?”
“He can’t help it.”
“Will you admit he’s a fool?”
“I guess he’s a little soft, that’s all,
and your severity makes him no better.”
“Oh, pshaw!” said Smithers. “Spare
the rod and spoil the child.”
“That’s played out.”
“Since when?”
“Long ago. Try kindness.”
Mr. Smithers grew rather red in the
face.
“T have every respect for you,” he re-
marked, looking side-ways at the stove.
“But I don’t see why you should inter-
fere with my family affairs.”
“Because I like the lad. Why don’t
you apprentice him to some one?”
“To whom?”
“To me, if you like. I’li tike him,”
Mr. Smithers laughed in a tremulous
manner.
“What!” he exclaimed.
him to an undertaker?”
“Why not? You might require his ser-
vices sooner than you expect. If ours is
not such a respectable trade as the dry
good business, we are as much in request
as you are. You clothe the living, we
clothe the dead.”
“T couldn’t hear of such a thing,” re-
plied Smithers. “Besides, the boy hasn’t
finished his schooling. He knows noth-
“
you
“ Apprentice
ae
Tommy re-entered the room and spread
a snow-white cloth over the table.
“There’s a little man,” said Barker, en-
couragingly. “What a nice table cloth.”
“"Tain’t a table-cloth,” replied Tommy.
“It’s a sheet. Mother says the clothes
ain’t out of the wash yet.”
Mr. Smithers looked disgusted.
“Didn’t I tell you he was a fool?” he
exclaimed.
“He’s only simple,” replied Barker.
“What does he know? He’s going to
school next week, and I’ll bet he can’t
tell you what he wants for books.”
“Tll ask him,” said Barker. “Come
here, Tommy, won’t you?”
what you have to do with |
| got him cheap, and having a good barn at
|
A J |
Tommy approached him without any
hesitation, and showed none of that fear
which he exhibited when spoken to by
his step-father,
“How much money do you want for
school-books, Tom?” asked Barker.
“None at all,” replied Tommy.
“Why not?”
“T don’t like skule,” said Tommy, with
his hands behind his back.
“But you've got to go, and what will it
cost?”
“ About four dollars, sir.”
“How’s that?” demanded Mr. Smithers,
sharply. “I bought Harold Stamford’s
books yesterday, and they didn’t come to
that. Name the books.”
“Lemme see,” answered Tommy.
“Singin’ book, ’rithmetic, jography.”
“Well,” said his step-father, “the first
is sixty cents, the second seventy-five,
the third a dollar and twenty. I insist
upon knowing how you make it out.”
He took up the cane which stood in the
corner and held it up threateningly.
“Don’t hit me and I’ll tell you,” replied
Tommy. “There’s half a dollar for a new
bat, a dollar for a pair of skates, anda
quarter for candy.”
Mr. Barker burst out laughing.
“T tell you he’s smart,” he exclaimed,
“ana you can’t punish him for telling the
truth.”
“IT won’t this time, replied Mr.
Smithers. “ Yet I don’t half like this sort
of thing. Go an’ give the horse his sup-
per, Tom.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Tommy.
He hurried off as if he was glad to get
away.
While he was gone Mrs. Smithers came
up and laid the table, for although her
husband was high-toned, he did not
choose to keep a servant.
In ten minutes Tommy came back.
“Did you feed the horse?” asked Mr.
Smithers.
“IT gave him the supper,” replied
Tommy; “but he wouldn’t touch it.”
“That's strange,” remarked Smithers.
“T think that plug of yours is ailing,”
said Barker, “and it’s a wonder to me
why you keep him.”
“Well, you see,”
”
replied Smithers, “I
the back, I thought he’d be handy to take:
on to the ferry, and to go out with Sun-
days and holidays.”
“That’s so.”
“Tommy,” said Smithers,
you give him?”
The boy was about toanswer when Mrs.
Smithers rushed into the room.
“Where’s the oysters?” she almost
screamed.
“How should I know?” replied her hus-
band. “Didn’t I give them to you to
cook 2”
“You did, and I roasted them beauti-
fully, took the top shells off, and left
“what did
went up stairs to tidy up.”
Mr. Smithers bent a severe glance on
Tommy.
“What did you give the horse?” he
asked,
“The supper,” replied Tommy.
“What?”
“The oysters,
you meant.”
Mrs. Smithers clasped her hands to-
gether, and uttered a cry.
“Do horses eat oysters?” demanded
Smithers, furiously.
“How could I tell?” answered Tommy.
“T’ve heard of donkeys eating thistles.”
“What wouid you like to eat, you
donkey?”
“A mild tongue,” said Tommy.
“How do you mean, you idiot?”
“Do be quiet, dear,” cried Mrs. Smithers.
“Am I to be insulted by this idiot of
yours, madam?” thundered Smithers.
The wife raised her apron to her eyes
and began to cry.
Smithers seized Tommy by the ear and
pulled, it, exclaiming:
“What do you:mean? Are you luny?”
“IT meant a beef tongue, not too much
salted,” replied Tommy.
“What did you do with the oysters?”
% Won't you lick me, if I tell you?”
“ T
N-no.
“When I found the horse wouldn’t look
at them, I called Charley Barker, and we
polished them off between us.”
Mr. Smithers let goof Tommy’s ear,
and looked at him ferociously.
“You young villian!” he exclaimed;
“T’ll skin you some of these days.”
At this Mrs. Smithers burst into a fresh
torrent of grief.
“Oh, that I should have to hear my boy
called such a name!” she sobbed.
“Silence, woman!” roared her husband.
She sank into a chair, exhausted, and
redoubled her groans and tears,
“See here,”exclaimed Barker, “I’1ll send
for some more. There’s no harm done.”
“No, you won’t,” replied Smithers.
“You’re just as bad as the hoy. I could
see you snickering all the time, and it’s
the last chance you’ll have of coming into
my house.”
“T can get out of it,” said Rarker,
Thought that was what
“ G it 4’
NEWS.
This was said in such a contemptuous
manner that Barker had no alternative.
Putting on his hat, he went.
When he was gone, Smithers attempted
to do what he had not dared to undertake
while the undertaker was in the room.
Seizing his rattan, he rushed upon
Tommy.
His mother threw herself between them,
and Tommy escaped the intended blows,
but his step-father chased him around the
}room, uttering frantic cries.
The door being open, the boy thought
it would be only prudent to make his es-
cape.
“You rascal! you dunce!” cried Smith-
ers. “The idea of giving oysters to horses!
I’1l be even with you!”
Tommy banged the door after him, and
his step-father having put his hand on it,
got badly crushed.
He withdrew his hand covered with
blood, and as he sucked his fingers he
danced an original fandango on the floor.
At this moment the door opened and a
boy’s form appeared.
Blinded with rage and smarting with
pain, Smithers struck out with the cane.
“Oh, pa!” cried the boy; “what have I
done? It’s me, Harold. Look out, or you'll
hit Ally.”
Mr. Smithers groaned again.
In the passion of the moment he struck
his own child, Harold, who, with his sis-
ter, had just returnea from the party.
“My darling!” he exclaimed, “I’m truly
sorry. It was that stupid, that silly,
that insane beast, Tommy, I meant to
chastise.”
“What’s he done, pa?”
“Don’t ask me. Maria, I’m going down
the street, to the drug store, to have my
hand dressed.”
“You shouldn’t be so violent,” she said.
“Just keep that boy out of my sight
when I come back, that’s all.”
“T can’t help his making mistakes.”
“Tl kill or cure nim, anyway.”
“When shall you be back?”
“T don’t know.”
“Don’t be long. I’m tired and hungry.
We’ve had no supper,” said Mrs. Smithers,
“T shall get mine outside.”
“What am Itodo!? I've had none.”
“You may thank your precious brat for
that, madam. Give oysters to a horse!
Oh, my, I'll never get over it!” cried Mr.
Smithers.
Wrapping his injured hand in a hand-
kerchiet, he rushed from the house, leav-
ing his wife alone with Harold Stamford
and Alice Regina.
“What is the matter with pa, ma
dear?” asked Alice. :
“Oh, don’t bother me,” said Mrs.
Smithers, swaying herself to and fro in
the rocking-chair.
“Wasn't he mad?” remarked Harold.
“T never saw him so before. It was all
that Tommy’s doing, I’ll bet.”
“Go up to bed, both of you,”said Mrs.
Smithers.
“T won’t for one,” exclaimed Alice.
“Will you, Harold?”
“Not much,” replied the boy.
“Your father will punisb you when he
comes back.”
“No he won’t—he likes us too much,
and we don’t care for you, ma, when pa
isn’t here,”*said Alice.
Mrs. Smithers sighed again, but made
see effort to get the children to
bed.
She knew they were their father’s
spoiled pets, and that it was useless, with
her ek mind and undecided character,
to attempt to control them in his absence.
So, while she sat silently crying to her-
self, Harold Stamford and Alice Regina
got out the board and amused themselves
with a game of checkers.
It was past midnight when Smithers
returned, with rather an unsteady gait,
and a glaziness about his eyes, which,
taken in connection with the huskiness
of his voice, led his wife to suppose that
he had been drinking.
“Tnis is a nice time to come home,” she
said, with more than her usual boldness.
“Very nicesh timesh,” he answered,
hieceuping.
“Where have you been?”
“Looking for boysh they call Shoft
Tommy, (hic) that ’sh where I’ve been.”
“Did you find him?”
“ No.”
“Well, he’s not come in,” said Mrs.
Smithers, “and its’ my opinion that your
harshness has driven him to some rash
act.”
“Run away, do you think?” exclaimed
Smithers. “Oh, dear, no, (hic) Tommy’s
too good a judge of when he’sh well off.
Light my (hic) candlesh, and I’ll go to
bed.”
Smithers was accommodated with a
light, and in some mysterious manner
retired without breaking his neck or
setting the house on fire.
Harold and Alice followed their father’s
example, but Mrs. Smithers remained up
till the small hours, waiting for Tommy
to come back.
The fire in tne stove went out, and the
day-light peeped through the, shades,
Still the auxlous tuothor Watched,
ee 4
F Re
When Tommy managed to. escape et
his father’s anger, he ran to the back 0!
Mr. Barker’s house, where he knew he
was sure of protection and shelter.
Inthe kitchen he found Charles Barkely —
a boy about his own age. Fre fa
“Hello, Tommy,” exclaimed Charley; 3
“weren’t those oysters bully?” ai ow o
“T’m afraid to go home, through them
answeredTommy. “It seems as if ie che j
|another mistake. They weren’ ae ir a
horse’s supper at all. IwishI was a li
smarter. Father will knock the i
The |
of me when he catches me.” af
“Let him sleep over it,” said Charles, Auth
“that’s what I do when pop’s mee go |
me. Sleep out all night, and let him F Cy,
to business before you show up. Dime
Where can I stay?” the
“In our house. You can go up , the |
carpenter's shop ‘and sleep in oe put |
coffins. I’d give you half my be hiek 4 THE y
father’s so funny-tempered he might ot
us both, if he found that I’d keP i oe
out.” j
“That’s so; and for want of a better |
roost, I'll do as you say.” meee 2
“Come at once, for I hear pop UP ee qT |
going on at mamma as che alway®™ | Xtrey
when he’s in a bad temper.” ed by | Thej
Charley went into the yard, follomought |} Makin
his friend Tommy, on whom hé 10a, 8 Ante,
he was conferring a great - favor mn 4 ll We}
ing him to sleep in a coffin. | ps, and | Stal py
The snow was lying about m1 ne to 7 trea (
the idea that it would be stl. ey, hei,
snowball somebody at once struce dow? every j
“Say!” he exclaimed, “let’s 8? all Wer
street’'and snowball Darkey Job. Some
“All right,” replied Tommy- ¢ b Porteq
“You fire at him, and i'll make | es Usin
at his candy and divvy with ye bi Paddle
= Sk of ne
“Just’s you say.” pered e
Darkey Jon was a good ten ie Others
colored man who kept a candy § im some an thi
The boys were always playing®” made Which |
trick or another, and, indeed, eS ie ni € op
his life a misery and a burden bo gee the DY air
As usual, Soft Tommy did DOP™™ = | Propelle
drift of his friend’s propoma E all the Wheels,
He ran the risk of getttMB | ingloon
blows, and Charley all the can ¥* enem 1 ; Th ates
A few minutes’ walk prough pebind pia’
Darkey John's. He was standing roused 7 catchy
his counter, and was sudde h of red : wipeecn
a nee contemplation of @ bes que ey ih th
and blue-colored sugar pigs 97). nos | es
ble contact of . cae wit his or ais) hadi
“Kil” he said, “dat’s too anit he ec
chile to stand. Who fire dat ball4 make qtlea t
“Give him a couple more, an isperee I woh. ‘
ee ae out after you, e of | pina
larley. oper, f wplttey
Tommy tbrew two more balls, (the way fey"
Skao wD,
bottles on a shelf, the other .
John’s’ ear, and its flaky *
streamed down his neck. ba
“Fore de lord, dat’s too MUG” Ast bo
: : : ODS ’
which raised a commotion amore, at
I gwine to do now? Ifl cotel sick’ | in, tore
I’ll have to make him feel 18 oo a hey, “C
exclaimed Darkey John. s yan out Tt ‘thin Shap
Catching sight of Tommy he street ve 7 Souk ou
the shop and chased him up ene | F “We a
Charley, meanwhile, enter? dy. es Of th &m
and filled his pockets with ca” a atige le li
(10 BE CONTINUED) tpratly
—_—___~+-0-o Fie Epon
THE CHIMNEY.SWEBF: in tb | mise
The voice of the chimney-S¥ fi ite He de
eee. is no longer heard em1estO™ as @ ee: Xeon the
be, in Philadelphia and Char o it “ites | Stay, Stal
Twenty-five or thirty years 9 see ™ ne 4 Wag Ord
common thing in New Yor joyer® iD ops Ty fen ¢
of boys following their eMP) tyne om | Soy, Was
street, or issuing from the? , of Mind | Poway PPOp
with their peculiar wail. So hep a | Waist » ba
were not more than ten your at weg te dani? any
they looked so wretched ther Dey | nnepe
child was ill-behaved its MO, chiral! | larg Bde
would threaten to give it to France oe. a “Shit the
sweep In Germany and jeaniDs peer R tha Pah
boys are still employed in “ hae intl % ible ort
neys. In Great Britain # cticee . wet? | that», Q
passed forbidding the a pouse® yin” Sua 6
the reign of James I. t pe phe “pe | aime tnt
built only one story high, f10OF* opi? ibe ox Jer
neys were swept from © the ines * MeO the
Scotch fashion of multiply? free ow 5 Wait’ t
then came in, and twice OF sweep D his it,
year boys were sent up t pee Reeg Oat
the soot. ee a
pone:
‘HE SCHISEOP prume?
The schiseophone is aD ime oncee
may be employed to detec,
in shafting, ete. A stee a
a hammer is moved to any stl
a microphone, periodica two
fs 8
metal under examinatioDy | mj Ont:
connected respectively to the arta =
and to two telephones silent Lee
that the telephones va portion Ne
hammer strikes a soli Pred, a
metal. The hammer is ™
object under examin
ing a flawed part
given out causes more Nex;
in the microphone ¢! tr atigta a
yhones speak, This in 4ePran
important step towar Fy eran ; Mere
the employment of fpu genie it
axles, etc., engines, ant oo t
| all
ee
- (This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]
TOM EDISON, JR.,
AND HIS AIR-YACHT ;
OR,
The Wonderful Cruise of the Sky-Witch. |
By PHILIP READE.
ee or, of “Yom Edison, Jr.s Sky-Scraping Trip,”
j om Edison, Jr.’s Sky-Courser,” etc.
a -
np goM Eptson, Jr.” was commenced itt No. 77. Back
bers can be obtained of all News Agents}.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE MYSTERIOUS REALM—FRESH TROUBLE
THREATENED, .
HE flying folk surrounding the Sky-
itch were somewhat Chinese-ap-
pearing in garb, complexion and
extr Seneral aspect, and all seemed to be
memely good-natured.
ma fa tongues were going constantly,
Wantet a perfect Babel of sounds, and all
€a to get on board, though at first
Were Sternily motioned back as a gen-
Non eecaution against possible danger or
Teache
The ry.
every i, flying-machines were of almost |
IMaginable description, and nearly |
Were operated singly or individually.
Ported’. were winged and balloon-sup
Usin Canoes, operated by a single rower,
long, feathery, ‘immense-bladed
have Or oars, while seated waist-deep
oe in the middle, after the manner
amo seal and walrus hunters.
whiees Sort there were many varieties—
Rais pre mounted and propelled veloci-
tiny air Ic cle fashion. Then there were
Propel] ‘Skiffs and air-shallops, variously
€d by oars and sails and revolving
» Or by all combined. There were
edan-chairs worked by their lazy
like so many invalid vehicles.
Parachute” immense, umbrella shaped
Car-o¢¢ tes, engineered at will by their
With “pants here, there and everywhere
| Mate anos astonishing and consum-
2 ‘Mhably. - And so on, and so on inter-
cried”
clare J] hardly know what to do”
laugh om, Jr., at last, bursting into a
We shall If we let one aboard, probably
Of butt, be Overrun by ’em, as by a swarm
ae ecitlies and bees.”
: ¥arship Te like bumboat women about a
skapo el? ~oOur honor,” suggested Jem
an’ Wy th Only fifty times as numerous,
“Therap te ladies better lookin’.”
Whist Le for you, me b’y” shouted Mc-
! More Whingly keeping off several of
bell . agp rrristent natives with a boat-
4 8
‘thing taped hats av them, an’ ye moight
Songy PUrselt surrounded by that many
re ures Islanders in their canoes.”
of their Te try to understand something
‘+
What’s become of our pun- |
own bel a. Ae na toes
sed him.” after that whisky you
"growled Windseye. “He
ere, ead break for it, at all events.”
Renera] €re was a hurrah from the crew,
oard Scattering of the flyers on the
f Side, aad a splendid air-boat
4pproaching.
Mowe PMelled b ryan ° .
y six sturdy pig-tailed
Waist,” mye headed and stripped to the
in. With a richly dressed man-
Strr9 §ppe
= nndeg ning blond young personage,
wd eae pexenel subordinate offi-
Sbvern-sheets.
et suddenly roared the per-
‘t Qu e most jovial and unimpeach-
4 “pate €en’s English. “What craft
Claj, COu
peed etymar. of mine, by Jingo!” ex-
eon the eR naees: improvising a horn-
ay »
is : the owld dart!” corrected Mr.
ns whistle. “There was a
a a brogue in that hail, or
“nt bapttentotter a
e Bere wrong.
Rdison rican, air-yacht, Sky-Witch,
OM, J} > r., in command!” was Cap-
4 ° prompt response,
rom the stranger.
: fe the barge touched the
a eathering gracefully along
lightprder to avoid a shock, he
hg com, aboard, and fairly seized
Ned Mander in his arms.
Shngon €ring-Shan-Soon—other wise
Han’}° Connecticut—Grand Viz-
aie. ood, at your service |”
istan Hurrah! and welcome
tistactorg” was equally impulsive
Ay fang to |} ee
egtMereis 1° the taffrail, pulled down
"Rain it 4g so as to kiss and em-
an ran it up on the gaff
earty exelamation, “God
GOOD NEWS.
| . “7 .
| bless the stars-and-stripes forever!” amid tain Tom, Jr. “But why are you especially
€Similarly-buoyed horse-frames |
y forget the pigtails an’ quare |
) in a, ies 7 ‘ ‘ttle f ae
‘titlenty, &0,” said Tom, Jr., a little im
royal ‘official barge of some |
an enthusiastic huzza from the crew.
“What! you are really an American?”
| cried Captain Tom, Jr., delightedly grasp-
jing the newcomer’s hand afresh.
“And a Connecticut Yankee, to boot,”
was the jovial response. “Though, of
course, I’m a Baylan after that, and the
biggest man in this entire toy kingdom,
old Joolapood himself excepted.”
“He is here in the country now, I hope,”
said Captain Tom, eagerly.
“But that’s just what he isn’t,” replied
the Grand Vizier. “He’s off on his semi-
annual visit to Boogooroo and Itzimat-
lan.”
“What and were are they?”
“Our subsidiary kingdoms, ot States,
in the African Mountains of the Moon and
the Ecuadorian Andes respectively.
“But look here, old fellow !—you see I’m
taking a sailor’s liking to you already—
what difference can it make to you about
old Joolapood, since you’ve got me to wel-
come you into MBaylanistan, and—
Humph !”
Here for the first time Nedering-Shan-
Soon, otherwise Ned Johnson, pefceived
the Oriental trio, Prince Djarlma, Gobo
and Alhassan; a knowing light came into
his face, then he smiled curiously, then
looked even a little glum.
“But never mind all this, my dear sir,”
continued Captain Tom, Jr., a_ little
feverishly. “Pray tell me first if. our
rivals in exploration, the British air-
yachts Meteor und Danceaway, have pre-
ceded us ovef yonder awful mountain
|barrier into this strange kingdom of
yours?”
The Grand Vizier seemed to be unaffec-
tedly surprised at the question.
“We know of no such yachts,” he re-
plied. “In fact, it’s asufficient wonder for
ius as to how you could have managed to
bring your own ship over the barrier with-
out a guide. For, to tell the truth, apart
from our Sultan himself, there is but one
man in all Thibet who could have thus
guided you—a certain lying, cheating, un-
principled, unconscionable, thieving, ras-
cally, unmitigated Scotch knave, adven-
turer and all-round scoundrel, who, should
I once more get hold of him——”
At this juncture a_ hoarse,
voice was heard, just below, roaring out
the drinking-catch:
“So here’s ma heert an’ here’s ma han’,
Frae Greenock’s sands to auld Dundee!
An’ while we stagger or while we stan’
We'll still get drunk on the barley bree!”
And the pundit-priest-guide, Mr. Mac-
kenzie-Shan-Jung. that treasure of the
Grand Lama’s foreign acquisitions, came
reeling, oblivious of personal danger, up
the companion-way, bottle in hand.
“Hurrah!” shouted the Yankee Grand
Vizier; “Joolapood’s Scotch robber, that
thief of the world, Bricktop Sandy!
Whoop!”
And, snatching a bamboo wand from
one of his attendants who had followed
him over the yacht’s rail, he forthwith
collared the pundit, his eyes sparkling
with indignation, and began flogging and
drubbing him till the old fellow yelled
mercy again and again.
“There, you old mustard-pot!” con-
tinued the enraged Baylan, desisting at
| last, on Captain Tom interfering. “Scoun-
drel! rascal! thief!” as the pundit, whim-
pering and rubbing his shoulders, effected
his retreat, though still sticking to his
| whisky-bottle. “If Joolapood himself
were here, he would have you keel-
hauled ali over Baylanistan from the
bottom of his own air-frigate.”
“The old fellow has been our pilot, as
you see,” observed Captain Tom, Jr.,
| while vouchsafing some details of explan-
lation. “But he has essayed at least one
‘dirty trick with us, and I’ve no doubt
| has deserved all the castigation you have
| given him.” : i
| “What did he try upon you?” inquired
| Johnson.
| “He sought to desert and leave us to our
| fate on the other side of the barrier,” re-
| plied Captain Tom, Jr., with a significant
oe \ | glance at both Djarlma and Alhassan, but
boat Inding a welcoming screech |
lon
without mentioning other particulars.
“Well, look out, or hemay knock a hole
in you, or foul your machinery. ‘lhe old
reprobate is capable of any mischief!”
“What! did Mackenzie, then, accom-
pany Joolapood over the barrier, on the
latter’s final. treasure-stealing voyage
from Rajapuhr?”
Mr. Nedering-Shan-Soon-Johnson lifted
his queer Chinese hat, to scratch his bald
pate—for he was shaven and pigtailed,
like the majority of the Baylanistan na-
tives as thus far observed—somewhat re-
flectively before answering:
“Well—er—that depends upon how you
look at it,” he drawled out at last. “Yes;
the old blatherskite was along, and so
was I. We fired him out somewhere here-
abouts for tryin’ to start up a mutiny,
and seize upon the treasure on his own
account. But look here, captain,” some-
what less confidently, “I wish you would
keep a sharp lookout against the possi-
bility of the old fellow escaping again.”
“I'shall certainly de s0;” replied Cap-
| the
| system
drunken |
interested in that?”
“Well, to tell the turth, there’s a big
disaffected faction in Baylanistan, and
old villain, with his spitefulness,
knowledge of the language, people and
the like, might be enabled to foment no
end of trouble. Now I must wish you good-
night for the present.
to-morrow. Remain quietly where ,you
are, and you will not be molested.”
Night had by this time fallen, and
nearly all the smal) fry of the curiosity-
seekers had taken themselves off in and
on their various little flying-machines,
though the yacht’s deck was flooded with
effulgence from the electric lights.
Johnson grasped the young skipper’s
hand again, and said to him with
earnestness :
“The little Hindoo swell is one of the
heirs, I suppose; and you are doubtless on
the track of that treasure? Be frank with
me, and you will not regret it.”
Captain Tom, Jr., promptly answered in
the affirmative, besides giving a general]
account of the object of the expedition,
Clendenning’s rivalry, and the rest.
“Good, and thanks,” replied the Yankee,
after listening attentively. “And now
let me say this to you in response, and
in the best of good faith:
“You are welcome here in Baylanistan, |
for the peaceful study of our people and
ways, indefinitely.
“And, as we are a strange race, all but
hermetically sealed away from the
of mankind for many generations, chiefly
by volcanic convulsions, we may be better
worth the study than would at first ap-
ear.
But I shall taxe |
pleasure in improving our acquaintance |
1S<7
“Ts’s the hour ye towld me to make me
report, sor,” said the boatswain, in his
hoarse whisper.
“All right. How goes it?”
“He waked up an hour ago, your honor,
ate the diuner that Moosoo had left at the
side av him, finished off another half-
bottle of the craythur, an’ was soon snor-
in’ again, as he is at this blessed min-
ute.”
“Good Is Skaggs on guard now?”
|caution against
rest |
“Yes, sor; I relave him again at day-
break.” ;
| “That will do, then. Don’t relax watch,
| Barney.
Thank you.”
And Tom, Jr., turned in his bunk for
his second sleep, while Mr. McWhist
: phar ie : | slipped away.
Before springing back upon his barge, | ty y
The ‘He’ referred to in the foregoing
| was the pundit-guide, Mr. Sandy Mac-
much | I a : y :
kenzie-Shan-Jung, who had been carried
to bed, howling drunk, soon after his cas-
| tigation, and was now being sentineled by
Barney and Skaggs as an additional pre-
a second attempt to es-
cape on his part.
A few hours later on, just at break of
|day there was suddenly an unconscion-
lable hubbub on board the Sky-Witch—a
signal gun firing, the flash-lights a-flare,
a hurrying of feet, drums beating to quar-
ters, and over and above all McWhist’s
| boatswain’s whistle screaming out like a
foghorn in distress.
“What the devil’sup?” shouted Captain
|Tom, Jr., tumbling out of bunk and cabin
atarun. “Is there another attack, ora
| junk-shop broken loose?”
“Worse than that,” hastily responded
the second mate, hurrying past. “Pun-
dit’s escaped and poor Skaggs half-
| killed.”
| It was substantially true, as the young
But if you are in hopes of coming upon | commander discovered upon hurrying on
any considerable amount of Joolapood’s | geek ;
big treasure-swag, you will be vastly dis- |
appointed.
“In all honesty, there is very little of it
in Baylanistan. We have no money-cur-
rency, our medium of commerce and ex-
change being effected by a nicely adjusted
of barter. Hence coined money
could have no value with the Baylans,
though they are passionately fond of the |
precious metals and precious stones in the
way of pure ornaments, and have vast
quantities of them.
“To obtain the bulk of the Rajapuhr
loot, you will have to seek it either in
Boogooroo or in Itzimatlan, I don’t know
which; and,” with a peculiar smile, “I
wish you joy in reaching either the one or
the other.
“As for the inconsiderable portion of it
left here in my charge, of course you can’t
have an ounce or spangle of it, without
fighting for it for all you are worth. And,
if you think you have a chance for it in
that way, even with this crack little war
ship to back you, why,” with another odd
smile, “you had better wait to get a
glimpse of the standing army of Baylan-
istan in general, and my palace-guard in
particular, before risking the attempt.
“However, I can hardly epeirind that,
with that flag floating at your gaff,”
pointing to the ensign, “you can tkink of
engaging in any such free-booting and
piratical undertaking against a peaceable
and enlightened people, who have never
done you any harm.
“Good-night and God rest you, Captain
Edison! I want to be your friend, if you
will let me. Above all, look out for that
Scotch villain, Mackenzie.”
And, with yet another cordial grasp of
the hand, the Yankee Grand Vizier of
Baylanistan, sprang upon his barge. and
was rapidly rowed away into the dark-
ness, leaving the young skipper witha
decided impression in his favor rather than
otherwise,
Below, and far around as far as the eye
could reach from the suspended air-yacht’s
decks, twinkled the lights of town and
village and farm. ‘There was an oc-
casional lowing of herds and tinkling of
sheep or goat bells. To these were pres-
ently added the musical bell-tones of ves-
per chimes. And now and then lights,
probably carried in the prows of small
flying-machines, could be seen streaming
hither and thither athwart the dark.
It was like a fairy realm.
“Well,” observed Captain Tom, Jr.,
very complacently, on rejoining his
officers and guests, “we can say one thing
in our scaly old pundit's favor, if nothing
else—Baylanistan is all that he ever
eracked it up to be, and something more.”
This seemed to be the eer of the
entire ship’s company, and all started in
to pass the night with a feeling of se-
curity and comfort that was altogether
unusual of late.
CHAPTER XVIII.
e
A BAD BEGINNING—THE WONDERS OF THE
T midnight Captain Tom, Jr., was
awakened by a’ slight tap on his
STRANGE LAND.
Ns
~ eabin- door, and, in obedience to
© - his response; Mr: Me Whist entered
in the dim light,
| McWhist had gone down to relieve
| Skaggs at daybreak, but only to find the
guarded cabin-door wide open, its late
|snoring inmate non est, and the jack-tar
| senseless on his face from a terrible bruise,
| doubtless inflicted by a bludgeon, a ham-
mer, or some other blunt instrument, on
the back of the head. Then Barney had
himself been partly felled from behind, and
| half-daft from the blow, had rushed on
deck, sounding his whistle, shouting cut
the alarm, and raising the general tumult
that has been noted.
That was all of it in a nutshell.
Skaggs, however, though badly stunned,
was fortunately found to have been less
seriously injured than had at first been
supposed.
Not only had the double-faced pundit-
|guide succeeded in deserting the ship,
|doubtless by the anchor-rope, since
there was noother way; but, while the
excitement was still at its height, the
steward, Moosoo Santerelle, came on deck,
|pale and agitated, to announce that his
| Wine-room had been broken into and des-
|poiled of the last two bottles of Scotch
whisky in stock.
“Dot aind der vurst of it all der dimes,”
| vociferated the Prussian cook, Gruntle-
|man, also putting in an appalled appear-
ance, with his apron awry and his white
square cap cocked over on his left ear.
“Der whole remains of dat pig chigken-
pie—gone, gone, gone to der togs undt
doubdless py dis dime into dot drunken
vize-man’s Sgotch sdomach! Down mit
der Grandt Lama; to h— undt plue plazes
mit der priests!”
“Tt’s no great loss,” commented Cap-
tain Tom, Jr., even too chagrined to laugh
at the Judicrousness of all this tempest in
ateapot. *“If the scoundrel keeps up his
drunk, there’ll be so much the better
chance of overhauling him.”
Then, turning to Sam Windseye, whose
watch it was, he commanded, sternly:
“Send to see if Alhassan is still in his
cabin.”
But the young man referred to at this
very moment made his appearance, along
with Prince Djarlma and Gobo, and look-
ing no less innocently astounded than the
others.
So poor Skaggs was cared for, the boats-
wain permitted to look after his own
broken head, without any knowledge as
to the breaker thereof, and the details of
the Mackenzie-Shan-Jung escape re-
mained unexplained.
The Grand Vizier Nedering Shan-Soon
visited the yacht again in bis barge at
about nine o’clock, and seemed more
troubled over the piece of news awaiting
him than he was willing to have it ap-
pear.
“Let us hope that there is nothing really
ominous in the incident,” he said at last,
with forced indifference. ‘ However, the
strictest search shall be made through-
out the country for the fugitive at once.”
He gave an order to this effect to one of
his officiais, who straightway, burried off
on an air-velocipede to notify the military
and police authorities.
In the meantime, the yacht was again
surrounded by the flock of curiosity-
seekers in their multifarious little air-
boats and flying machines, most of which
were now perceived to be gaily decked
|
1348
with wreaths of flowers and bright-hued
ribbons, as if for a festive occasion.
“It’s a holiday all over Baylanistan to-
day, my dear captain,” explained the
Grand Vizier, likewise affecting a gay
and festive air.
and your guests to share in our cele-
bration. What do you say? Jn the first
lace, there is to be a grand wild-beast
un down among our hotter and more
tropical levels,
you such sport as you never saw before.
Then there is to be our military review,
which [ think will also afford you a novel
spectacle. And after that you must dine
with me in my own apartments at the
Sultan's palace. Come! But, in the first
place, you must show me over this gallant
craft of yours, the like of which has never
been seen in Baylanistan betore, air-folks
as we have been from our earliest tra-
ditions. For, to tell you the truth, my
dear friends, even the Sultan’s best and
bravest air-ship is but a primitive and
ungainly affair, compared with this trim-
built clipper of yours. As for the rest,
you can anchor nearer the ground, or sail
about over the country, or revictual your
ship, or let your gallant crew improve
their acquaintance with our kindly peo-
ple, just as you see fit.”
Such an invitation, given with seem-
ingly unaffected heartiness and cordi-
ality, there was no refusing.
Accordingly, after the Yankee magnate
had been shown over the ship, and ex-
pressed his unboypnded admiration for
everything he saw, the sight-seeing party
quitted the yaclit in one of the quarter-
boats, in the wake of the royal barge.
It was composed of Captain Tom, Jr.,
and his Oriental trio, together
Charley Scudaway, while McWhist—
albeit with his sore head picturesquely
done up in soap and brown-paper—went
along in charge of the boat's crew.
‘yhere was a parting gun fcom the Sky-
Witch, a cheer from her crew, a wave of
the hand on the part of Windseye, left in
charge, the colors were dipped, and then
the festive expedition was off, boat and
barge presently proceeding abreast, so as
to be in very easy conversational dis-
tance.
“A fine city, that, Mr. Johnson!” cried
Tom Edison, Jr., when a handsome town
of a generally Chinese appearance pres
ently came in view. Your capital city, I
suppose?”
“Yes,” replied the Grand Vizier, proudly,
“that is ‘I'sen-koong—meaning the “Bird-
People’s Town—the capital city of Bay-
lanistan. What do you think of the royal
alace, on the river bank yonder to the
eft?”
“Glorious!” cried Tom, Jr., enthusias-
tically. “With its gilded roofs and
sparkling minarets, springing out of those
blossoming. orange, lemon and citron
groves, it looks like a fairy palace.”
“Just what they are—orange, lemon and
citron groves. Notwithstanding that we
are north of the Himalayas, the greater
part of our favored and deeply secluded
region is at least semi-tropical in character
as you shall presently see.”
A half-hovering descent and pause be-
ing made directly before the grand palace
entrance, out of this there suddenly issued
a most remarkable procession.
It consisted of at least two hundred
men, bravely uniformec, armed with
javelins, bows and arrows and round
glistening targets or shields, the polished
metal helmets and breast-pates flashing
in the morning sun, all mounted on bi-
evcle-fashioned flying machines, which
a operated solely by means of their
eet.
It was a winged troop, a cavalcade of
air-horsemen, such as had never been seen
before, and their maneuvers were exe-
cuted with as much military precision as
any similar body of real cavalry could
have displayed upon terra-firma, together
with a grace and airiness of movement
that was unique in itself,
Great crowds were gathered in the
neighboring streets and thoroughfares,
some in the air, but the majority on foot,
to witness this beautiful display, in con-
junction with the arrival of the Grand
Vizier and his guests.
“The palace-guard—the royal household
troop!” exclaimed Nedering-Shan-Soon.
“Observe the perfection of their drill, my
friends: and then note what is to be seen
off yonder over that vast green pasture-
plain to the north of the city.”
As he spoke, he signalled the aerial
body-gnard, with a swift, commanding
gesture, and at the same time plucked
and waved over his head a flag from the
stern of his barge-the royal ensign of
Baylanistan, representing a crowned
sitet rampant, on a field of yellow or
gold.
There was a blast from the bugler in
their midst,.a shouted command from the
splendidly capar‘soned officer at their
head, and then the troop denloyed off
with the precision of clock-work automa-
tons, right and left, and at length came
to a floating right-about-face. while pre-
senting arms, high up on a line with the
cornice of the main palace roof,
“T am here to invite you |
in which I can promise }
with |
CGooD
It was a novel and noble spectacle, and
well worth the admiring cheer from the
invited guests and the assembled populace
that greeted it.
At the same instant there was a cul-
verin-salute fired and a great royal stand-
lard flung to the breeze from the tall pa-
back and
goda-like tower rising just
had thus
above where the body-guard
airily stationed themselves.
“Now look,” cried the Yankee Grand
Vizier, again pointing off to the north-
ward. “Behold the standing army of Bay-
lanistan in Grand review,”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
~ > 0--
THE ORIGIN OF THE DIAMOND.
This is still one of the mysteries of
geology. When the South African fields
were discovered there was much astonish-
ment to find the gem in a series of
minerals quite different from those in
which it had been hitherto found in India
and Brazil. Instead of lying beside tour-
maline, anatase, and brookite, it was
mingled with a breccia of magnesian
rocks, which had evidently been pushed
up from below; and a great variety of
minerals, such as diopside, mica, zircon,
corundum, were embedded along with it.
Some have supposed that the diamond
was originally formed where it is now
picked up, and the presence of carburet-
ted gas and carboniferous rocks is in
favor of the idea; but on the other hand
the broken condition of some of the
stones, and uther facts, make it far more
probable that diamond has been ejected
from a deeper source. According to M.
Daubree, the well-known French miner-
alogist, the diamond issues from the infra-
granitic regions of the earth’s crust,
where peridot is prevalent; for it arrives
at the surface along with that mineral
and certain serpentine masses, which
result from the transformation of the
latter. The imitation of this gem has
reached great perfection. A material,
named Strass, after its German dis-
coverer, which is made from rock crystal,
boracic acid, and caustic potash, purified
by alcohol, is now used for the artificial
gems. They are mostly made in Switzer-
land.
——--~+- e-
RECIPE FOR WHITENING THE
TEETH.
Dissolve two ounces of borax in three
pints of water. Before quite cold, add
thereto one teaspoonful of tincture of
myrrh, and one tablespoonful. of spirits
of camphor. Bottle the mixture for use.
One wineglassful of the solution, added
to half a pint of tepid water, is sufficient
foreach application. This solution, ap
plied daily, preserves and beautifies the
teeth. Always take the precaution to
wash out the mouth with water after
every meal, especially if animal food has
been eaten. By these means the particles
of food lodging about the teeth and gums
are dislodged, which, when allowed to
remain and accumulate, prove exces-
sively injurious.
——_—_—*- ee —_____
The Bottle Knot.
G 2 ERE isa knot that is both ornamen-
‘Prot tal and useful. It is one that is
ch, made with great facility, and is
“> not only of an exceedingly orna-
mental character, as asuccession of knots
can be made on the same piece of string
and used as braid, but is of considerable
utility in carrying a bottle or vase, as
shown in the second figure.
wn
THE BOTTLE KNOT, | THE BOTTLE KNOT,
AS TIED AND USED IN | AS USED FOR SECUR-
ORNAMENTAL BRAID- | ING CORKS,
ING. | .
If before the knot is pulled tight it is
put round the neck of a vase or bottle and
then tightened, it takes a secure grip so
that either of these articles can be carried,
Then by tying a simple flat knot across
the top of a bottle ‘that is corked it pre-
vents the cork from flying out. This is
particularly valuable for catsup bottles.
NEw s.
WHAT DOES BABY DREAM?P
BY BENJ. BARNETT.
What does little baby dream
In its placid sleep so sweet?
Is it of life's broken paths,
That babe in future has to meet?
Can it be of the twinkling stars
That shine from the Leaven above;
Perchance it’s papa’s and mama’s smile
Mingled with uncying love ?
Can it be of the fragrant flowers
That bloom in the bright sunshine,
Or of brother’s loving fondle and caress,
And sister’s kiss so fervent and divine ?
Perhaps it is of little birdie’s song
That fills babe’s heart with intinite elee ;
Maybe baby thinks about
The wild waves of the dark blue sea?
Perchance it is of the tiny cradle
Which mamma rocks babe to sleep.
Can it be of silvery moon in the sky,
That through the window at baby does peep?
Who knows whut little babe does dream,
In its placid sleep 80 sweet ?
The angels might tell usin Heaven
When the day comes for us to meet.
a
COLD-WATER FRANK.
cxmemenens enna
A CHRISTMAS TALE OF THE SEA.
wpeniecnins
UNCLE
ere @ tee
SS
BY NED.
LL HANDS
ahoy! All
hands aft to
splice the
main-hrace,
Lively!”
= This was
the _ boat-
swain’s cry
on the great
Mm East India
= ship Dread-
nought, on
= Christmas
morn, 1881,
as she sped
through the
rolling sea,
ho meward
bound from
Calcutta o
New York. For
years her captain,
old Tom Maston,
had treated his
crews on Christ-
mas morn, to a
brimming silver
cup of stout egg-
own hands, as he
the day and his
child, Miss Mattie
from her birth on
in his company:
before she was a
had only a hired
father to care for
nog, made by his
said, in honor of
cherished, only
Maston, who had
board ship, sailed
for her mother died
year old, and she
nurse and a loving
her.
In front of his cabin, his lovely
girl, now eighteen years of age,’ by
his side, the old captain stood, ready to
ladle from a huge punch-bowl the brim-
ming silver cup of egg-nog for each man,
as the chief mate called off his name.
Man after man, and boy after boy came
aft at the call, and with a “thankee,
cap’n, and good health,” drank off the
delicious beverage.
At last the name of Frank Holmes was
called.
A splendid-looking young lad, tall and
strong for his age—he was just nineteen—
answered the call, removing his hat and
showing a fine, clear brow, crowned with
clustering curls of soft, brown hair,
“Hxecuse my drinking your treat, cap-
tain,” he said. “Every one of my mess-
mates will tell you I never drank any-
thing stronger than water.”
“Ay, it’s Cold-Water Frank they call
him, but he is a good lad, sir, and never
shirks his duty,” said the first mate, who
saw the captain’s face darken at what he
considered a slight to himself and daugh-
ter.
“What! refuse to drink the health of
my daughter on her birthday?” thundered
the old captain.
“Forgive me, sir. I would risk my life
for your daughter at any moment; but I
have a vow registered in heaven, where
my dead mother’s spirit rests, never to
touch the Manta which made her a help-
less widow and placed me penniless on
the world. My father, once a man of
wealth, died a poor, unhappy drunkard.”
“Call the next man; let the milksop go!”
said the old captain, sternly.
“Oh, father, dear father, the tears are
in his eyes! You are too harsh!” cried
Mattie, laying her white hand on his
shoulder.
“Who ever slights you slights me!” he
said, gruffly.
The call went on, and soon the last
man and officer had drank the Christmas
birthday cup as it was called, Frank
Holmes only excepted,
ace
The wind, which blew very fresh in the
mourning, increased as the day wore 0D,
blowing a full gale before night.
ship, under. close-reefed top-sails 4
storm stay-sail, held her course, but sn@
rolled and pitched and plunged like somé
great monster in agony, her spars a
timbers straining and creaking wofully.
The sky was full of dark, swift-driveD
clouds, and every heaving surge wore
angry crest of foam, speeding like a rot
ing war-horse to the fray. in
“Child! child! why are you on deck a
a time like this? Go below: the dec
are all awash!” shouted the old captalms
as his daughter came up from the ¢@ ee
and sought to reach his side on the qu
ter-deck. a‘
Too late came that ware Crys
huge sea, sweeping over the ship ssl .
carried her like a feather on its he
breast, and in a second she was over t
sides
“Wear ship, and get to leeward
I will save or die with her!” showhy
Vy 5 ; in’ ry, ae
Frank Holmes in the captain's e@ f into”
rushed past him and leaped far ov
the seething waters.
“Hard up the helm
oe ane in! Round in!”
maddened captain. ‘ PP
He knew no boat could live in that se
—knew the b:ave boy alone could sat the
child, if he could keep her afloat t ‘is
ship was to leeward, so as to take h
he drifted down upon her. an
m
ooked
While the ship flew around, eve
. ¢ 7 k
and officer at his post, the capt olla,
in agony through his glass for
He saw hor a ane, her hands on ile
broad shoulders of Frank Holmes, as, 10
Be battled tees see hero that he W
seep above the rolling surges. | I
Skillfully handled, the ship litera
wore around “on her heel,” to US€" (46
hrase, and in a few minutes eho oc
1ove up to the wind on the othet ine
within a hundred feet of the hero fy all
hour, and the fair girl whom they
loved and reverenced. the
“Bear up, brave hearts. Bear ae the
ship will forereach, so you'll be UBC’. the
lee in a minute more. Luff there he caP”
wheel—luff all you can !” shouted t
tain. ere
Life-lines, with hair-line knots Pate
in a dozen pairs of hands now., 4 ate fell
more a line cast by the chief ™
within reach of Frank’s grasp., the waist
It was caught, passed aroun sb
of sweet Mattie Maston, and viel ery
was drawn up to the arms of bef
who wept for joy. put still
A minute later, very tired, |
able to stand, Frank was on der d
The captain, releasing his ch to
care of her maid, rushed forward nile
our boy-hero stood blushing, Wow
to the
ere
whee
crew sent up cheer after cheer for
Water Frank.” he lad, he
Throwing his arms around t
kissed him time after time. ul afloa
“My son! Bravest you 0 sonte™ Pie
This morning I held you in ©) jigh
fool that I was—for a virtue We *yyoqvel
honor. Henceforth, so help en gake
this is a cold-water ship, for yt you a
and if my girl thinks as much O° 7)
do, you Il hail from the cabin 0? oy
vovage |”
And she did. For on the very Bem 4
age out, Frank Holmes went ughts ;
officer of the good ship Dreadnor ti narto
his wife went with him. an lov
was Mattie, or Maimee, 48
call her. 5s
rae aie
HOW TO MAKE SKELETON PP ion
ea
The leaves should be put itty ees
d
or glass vessel, anda large quan 5
water pores over them. After to Ne
must be left in the open alts veriné, the
heat of the sun, withou ous nd
vessel. As the water evaport er mu
leaves become dry, more belie
added. The leaves will Ota
putrefy, but the time re uir
varies. Some plants will be
month, others will require bv
or longer, according to the hes
their parenchyma, When t weome Yona:
in a state of putrefaction sn gin t0
the two membranes will 2 jeaf a
rate, and the green part of Oion of
come fluid. Then the oper@ Jeaf is
ing is to be performed. The a plat® ing
put upon a flat, white earthem iq, men”
covered with clear watel: — the
gently squeezed with the finger he eee a P '
)
ranes will begin to opeD, t ta
substance will come out efullY 108
The membranes must be cae oat ca"
off with the finger, an
must be used in separatiD& "ig
middle rib, When once a ;
ing toward this separ saflke. . cké
indiabrasie always follows eae the ed
both membranes are ake to pet
eton is finished, and it BA* ied D&
clean with water, and then
the leaves of a book.
ProPLx dislike to ‘hear nonsens®
hear a great deal of it.
the | DOA
of me!
and by topsall
! Stand by ted the
pr nest |
pem Papen” Ez
ee,
It nee,
i
If the
a And th
|} May b
| Whate
A kind
And th
8p:
let us
.
i GOooD NEws. 1S49
the 4 —
Tbe a D0 A GOOD TURN WHEN YOU CAN. “Have you ever been in Switzerland? jas you know, I don't wish to interfere “I can hardly believe it myself; but
atte. 4 eae ries “Yes, I have clambered about amony/| with your management of Frank. If you | it’s true.” ,
_ghe BY B. F. the Alps. I tried to ascend Mont Blanc, ay yes, I have no sort of objection. “How did it come about?”
} Sree a _ | but had not endurance enough.” ust at that moment Frank felt more “Colonel Sharpiey, Mr. Craven’s fri
ps ia . tat not great wealth a kind heart to dis Frank was interested. He had read|kindly toward Mr. Craven ‘Atha he had lis saiigt iaaeant to eee friend,
ly. Tf the hand be but willing it soon finds a way ; books of aes = he aad re core ce —— = could not. of course, * Didu t Mr. Craven object ¢
jven id the poorest one yet, 1 the humblest abode, | Visiting foreign lands. e had thought | pene rate the treachery which he medi. | No. Why should he? He thought it
ae fay help a poor brother a step on his road. more than gots how much he oe enjoy tated. hig good plan.”
i i rOe é 5 countries beyond the “ “alv .k +e Mis as “And your mother?”
roth Whatever the sx he ay have wou, re aes Eee bee eee ee, y ze I hardly know what to say. Doyou| ,A”n@) ; :
a SS tec tee was it rape toads sea. but he had never, in his quiet | think theré would be no danger?” She was a little afraid at first that
| ee And though Boos be our purse, and narrow our | Country home, even met one who had} “f have great confidence in my friend, |S0mething might happen to me; but, as
oe me ig PD, | mate this JOUrHCY, and he eagerly (ae Colonel Sharpley. He is an experienced | Volonel Sharpley and Mr. Craven were in
tales 2 | bus all try to do a good turn when we can. o eons erence Spats had to tell him | trayeler—has been everywhere, as he has Se -. — bp res es
anor vm The t a av ehar ~ a | oP ese Cisbant sands, told you. I really wish I could go myself|_ , Well. Prank, al can say, is that I
quar ‘ om, voom of pleasure may charin for a : Here supper was announced, and the ithe eitac® Jy g Jy wish I were in your shoes.” Y;
Sy ‘ ‘ : ‘la Sz mn. tthe : ‘. a = ris ; "ere in i
; Whiise Si cc ideaneeeianmopenl: i Da vou take your tea strong, Colonel| This Frank did not wish, though he Wouldn't it be cally ao
ye 3 b J k 288, a nlovtt ae cai Be : would prefer to go with Mr. Craven] «qr tlt. Peek ;
pe % Sheds TS se o’er life, and a grace o'er our Hay cenit Gee — ants it. Tea is | tather than stay at home. ; with ‘aati i rt ; mae : —
d 4 tomb, P tertt rast ae ba a8 a ave drank | “Would it not interrupt his studies?” | >'%2 ® Sliver Spoon in my mouth like you.
oy the 7 a favorite drink of mine. I have drank cated tele widtsdr ns a fant iaitantenit You are the son of rich parents, while my
a Te cif we enjoy life, why the next thing to do it in its native land—in fact, every where. a edauanie te accuse WA a an le father is a pvuor carpenter, working by
f me! mace that another enjoys his life, too; “ Have you been in China, Colonel Sharp- hice aire au see ae ee ars mga Pp the day.”
“though poor be our purse, aud narrow our | ley?” ¥ a Vacali ) any rate. 2 “ <1 L
out apan, > Be ee x Yes, madam. I spent three months | Probably study all the better after he re- ccc uci lame to mpeg nee is
f into aq Fus all try todo a good turn when we can. |t¢here—learned to talk broken China a| ‘Ds. “I know you do, enh ; but that
, i 3 little,” he added, with a laugh. “Yes, waren an —— as ' doesn’t give nie the half millicn I anual
. Mrs. Craven, I have been a rover.” “Then if you really think it best, I will| postpone going to Europe till es
4 ie: ae This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. ] “He has been telling me about Switzer- | consent,” said Mrs. Craven. Smal aout enough Orit way —e
Peres. 5 land, mother,” said Frank, eagerly. “How l’rank was so overjoyed that he jumped | hands.”
atse®# | K HUNTERS PERIL. splendid it must be to travel there.” from his chair and threw his arms around “Don’t be too sure of that, Ben.”
ye bis Iam going back to Europe in three or| his mother’s neck. A flush of pleasure} “What do you mean, Frank?”
tbe = | —eo— four weeks,” said Sharpley, ready now to | came to her cheek, and she felt Be eo for; “JI mean this, that when I am twenty-
jm g By HORATIO ALGER, Jr. spring his trap. “Were you ever there, the sacrifice she must make of Frank’s | one 1 come into possession of about toriy
, V.of “Almer Holden's Bound Boy,” “The Bully of Mrs. Craven? is ._,, | Society. She knew beforehand that her| thousand dollais. Now the interest on
, mad “Qn nie The Western Boy,” “Bound to Win,” “No, sir; I am timid about traveling. husband’s company would not go far to- | that is two thousand four hundred. I’ll
ooked Ak “Radoed oy (en trish, Boy.” | Frank and Fearless, “I was going to ask why you and my| ward compensating that. |invite you to go abroad with me and
nild. rs “apace and Bold Series.” Tattered Tom Series,” friend Craven didn’t pull up stakes and| “I congratulate you, my young friend,” | spend a year there. If the interest isn't
on the m the Detective,” “Plucky Paul Palmer,” ete. go abroad for a time? said Colonel Sharpley (for we may as well | enough to pay our expenses, I will take a
while — “I am afraid I am getting too old to} address him by his stolen title) “upon the | few hundred dollars of the principle -
vas, & ERNE Huxren’s Pent” was commenced in No. | travel, Colonel Sharpley.’ ee ers before FOR bos . |_“That’s a generous offer, Frank,” said
vall¥ bers can be obtained of all News Agents]. Old! my dear madam Vny youre am very much oO blige to you, sir, ens oe yon don’t consider that at that
ee eas ime I shall be a journeyman carpenter
ea 88 | CHAPTER XL. very likely, while you will be a young
ie W : gentlen an, just graduated from college.
ar be TRAPPED. en oe ee wre a ee
0 8 r esis My dear Ben,” said Frank, laying his
pey a! IM BS, CRAVEN, I have peer hand’ affectionately on the other's saoul-
the eat fonda’ Colonel Shar “es e der, “if you think I’m a snob, or likely
aps me 35 et oO so ji or Piacs ' to become one, say so at once; but I hupe
a her hush lis was the first friend of you think better of me than to believe
at the 0 Te a ee come in her way. his that I will ever be ashamed of my dearest
ne caP ae: Curiosi¢e oe cele stranger w a Soe tm friend, even if he is a journeyman carpen-
ae her 9 Benich, however, was vailed by ter. I should despise myself if I thought
5, i Fifteen hundred miles were tray-
ow versed, and nearly the same re-
mained to be crossed. The sea had heen
rough in consequenceof a storm, and even |
now there was considerable motion. A
few passengers were on deck, among them
our young hero, who felt better in the
open air than in the closer atmosphere
below; besides, he admired the grandeur
of the sea, spreading out on all sides of
him farther than his eyes could reach,
He had got over his first sadness at par-
ting with his mother, and he was now
looking forward with the most eager an-
ere Penee to setting foot upon European
soil.
He shared a state-room with Sharpley,
but the latter spent little time in the boy’s
company. He had discovered some con-
genial company among the other passen-
gers, and spent most of the time smoking
with them or playing cards below. Frank
did not miss him much, as he found plenty
to engage his attention on board.
_As he stood looking out on the wild
waste of waters, trying to see if any-
abate his de- |
Let the |
| where he could discover another vessel,
he was aroused by the salutation:
“I say, you boy!”
Looking around, he saw a tall, thin
| man, dress in a blue swallo w-tail coat with
| brass buttons, a high standing dickey,
| and pants three or four inches too short
in the legs. He was an admirable speci-
men of the Yankee—as he is represented
on the stage—an exceptional specimen,
though some of our foreign friends may
regard him asthe rule. It was not the
| first time Frank had seen him. ‘I'wo or
| three times he had appeared at the table;
| but he had been stricken with seasick-
} ness, and for the greater part of the voy-
| age thus far had remained in his state-
room.
“Good-morning, sir,” said Frank, polite-
ly. “You have been seasick, haven’t
you?”
“Seasick! I guess I have,” returned the
other, energeticlly. I thought I was goin’
| to kick the bucket more'n once.”
“Itis not a very agreeable feeling,” said
Frank.
“T guess not. If I’d known what kind of
atime Il was a-goin’ to have, I wouldn’t
have left Squashboro’, you bet!”
“Are you from Squashboro'?”
Frank, amused.
“Yes, I'm from Squashboro’, State of
Maine, and I wish I was there just now,
I tell you.”
“You won’t feel so when you get on the
other side,” said Frank, consolingly.
“Well, may be not; but I tell you, boy,
it feels kinder risky bein’ out here on the
mill-pond, with nothin’ but a plank be-
tween you and drownin’. I guess I
wouldn't make a very good sailor.”
“Are you going to travel much?” asked
Frank.
“Wal, you see, I go mostly on business.
My name’s Jonathan Tarbox. My father’s
name is Elnathan Tarbox. He’s got a
nice farm in Squashboro’, next to old
Deacon Perkins’. Was you ever in
Squashboro’?”
“No; I think not.”
“Tt’s a thrivin’ place, is Squashboro’,
Wal, now, I guess you are wonderin’
what sets me out to goto Europe, ain’t
you?”
“IT suppose you want to see the country,
Mr. Tarbox.”
“Ef that was all, you wouldn’t catch me
goin’ over, and spendin’ a heap of money,
all for nothin’. ‘That ain’t business.”
“Then I suppose you go on business?”
“I guess Ido. You see, I’v2 invented
anew plow, that, I guess,is goin’ to take
the shine off of any other that’s in use,
and it kinder struck me that ef I should
take it to the Paris Exhibition, I might,
|may be, make somethin’ out of it. I've
heerd that they’re a good deal behind in
farm tools in the old European countries,
and I guess I’ll open their eyes a little
with my plow.”
“T hope you’ll succeed, Mr. Tarbox,”
said Frank, politely.
“T guess I shall. You see, I’ve risked
considerable money onto it—that is, in
travelin’ expenses and such like. You
see, my Uncle Abner—he wasn’t my real
uncle, that is, by blood, but he was the
husband of my Aunt Matilda, my mother’s
oldest’. sister—didn’t have no children of
his own, so he left me two thousand dol-
lars in his will.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
,
asked
—_—— i
GREATEST RAINFALL IN THE
WORLD.
The greatest rainfall in the world oe-
curs at Cherrapungi, on the Khasi Hills,
in Bengal. The average annual fall here
is about 610 inches, or nearly 51 feet, while
in 1861 it is reported that the fall was 805
inches. In the month of August, 1841,264
inches fell there, and during five succes-
sive days thirty inches fell in every
twenty-four hours. The meaning of these
figures may be realized when it is remem-
bered that the average rainfall of the
Gritish Isles is but thirty-six inches, and
that an inch of rain means a weight of
100 tons per acre; so that every year more
than 60,000 tons of water fall on each acre
of land in Cherrapungi. The cause of this
enormous rainfall is that when the mon-
;}soon changes, and the warm and moist
| south-west wind is blowing north-east-
wards toward Central Asia it is suddenly
raised some 6,000 feet by the Khasi Hills,
The temperature is thereby reduced below
the point of saturation, and the super-
abundant moisture is precipitated in these
unequaled deluges of rain.
+e ——
HOW VARIOUS NATIONS SLEEP.
In the tropics men sleep in hammocks
or upon mats of grass. The East Indian
unrolls his portable charpov or mattress,
which in the morning is again rolled to-
gether and carried away by him. The
Japanese lie upon matting with a stiff,
uncomfortable wooden neck-rest. The
Chinese use low bedsteads, often elabor-
ately carved, and supporting only mats
or coverlids, A peculiarity of the Ger-
man bed is its shortness; besides that it
GOooD NEWS.
|
frequently consists in part of a large down
pillow or upper mattress, which spreads
over the person, and usually answers the
purpose of all the other ordinary bed
clothing combined. In England the old
four-posted bedstead is still the pride of
the nation, but the iron or brass bedstead
is fast becoming universal. The English
beds are the largest in the world. The
ancient Greeks and Romans had their
beds supported on frames, but not flat
like ours. The Egyptians had a couch of
a peculiar shape, more like an old-fash-
ioned easy-chair with hollow back and
seat.
—-~>- 0--»
(This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.}
Breakneck Farm;
THE MERRIMAN TWINS.
By EVELYN RAYMOND.
Author of “That Girl of Kenyons.” ete.
{“]SREAKNECK Ff ARM” was commenced in No. 73. Back
numbers can be obtained of all News Agents].
- —
CHAPTER XX VI—(Continued).
g +
HE five boys came trooping in at
se that moment, so Amanda’s answer
he ) is not preserved ; and, dinner over,
—" the family gathered out of doors,
waiting for “the elass” and some of its
brothers, whose shouts and songs present-
ly heralded their advent.
“Why, there’s Miss Johnson”
Faith; “how glad I am you came!”
“Yes,” said the little milliner,
thought I’d come to mother the party.”
“Well, you can’t! The party is going
to mother you! Here, Kirk Merriman!
Here is our good little friend. See to it
that she has the best time of anybody in
this crowd.”
“No, don’t you bother;” replied the
smiling Miss Johnson, as Kirk gallantly
raised his hat, and quietly relieved her of
her tiny basket. “But somehow, when
I ticki the other girls were going, I
couldn’t bear to stay at home. So I just
shut up the shop, and came, though it’s
the busy season, too.”
“You'll work all the better, for a little
junketing,.” said Faith. “Ready! Every-
body? And has everybody been introduced
to everybody? Come Cyril, take hold of
Luther's hand and you shall head the
procession.”
As they pased out of the gateway, Kirk
thought he heard a woman’s voice call-
ing, and turning saw Henrietta approach-
ing. “Why there is Cyril’s ‘best girl,’
coming. I do believe she is going, too,
for she has a basket.”
“Oh! I’m just about tired to death, I
hurried so! Sister Patience never said
that I could go till a little while ago; and
then I tell you I just flew! I didn’t have
time to put on anything but my second-
best dress, and Jane’s jockey hat with
the green feather. Oh! dear! I don’t
see how I’m going to get mv breath.”
“Don’t try,” said Kirk with such gravity
that everybody stared, and then smiled;
though more than one young face had
grown a trifle overcast at seeing the
youthful party augmented by “a couple
of old maids.” But the Merrimans had
shown more honest gratification at the
addition of these same “old maids,” than
at any of the younger “girls,” for the sim-
ple reason that they were tried friends,
and they loved them; so were delighted
to have them happy.
“Will some of you young fellows take
Luther’s and my basket?” asked Kirk.
A half dozen of the “class brothers”
promptly offered.
There passed a silent message from one
to the other of the strong-handed part-
ners, and almost before she knew it, they
had made an old fashioned “chair,” by
crossing their hands and clasping each
other’s wrists, and had persuaded the
asthmatic Miss Henrietta to accept a ride
in this primitive fashion, until such time
as herunreliable breath should be pleased
to return.
It was the gayest picnic old Breakneck
ever entertained. They were all young
and pure in heart, even the two gray-
headed maidens, who were indeed the hap-
piest of all. There were wonderful stores
of the exquisite Trailing Arbutus which
for the first time Faith gathered in its
native home; and which her “class” al-
ready locked upon with more beauty-
discerning eyes, from the knowledge they
had gained through what she had taught
them.
Cyril’s delight was the odd shaped
Dielytra; the “Dutechman’s breeches,” of
the country children. Sidney wandered
off with “the Autocrat” and had a delici-
ous mental “Breakfast” all to himself.
Amanda was almost speechless with en-
joyment, and to each and every one of
the simple party it was a day to be al-
ways joyfully remembered,
cried
aoe
de
Even though, and perhaps because Of
the fact, that when the day was really
over, and all regretfully looked sunsel=
ward and saw that the hour of departure —
had really come, one of them was missing-
“Why, where is Luther?” asked Teddy,
when the last basket cover had been fas-
tened over emptiness; “I wonder if
knows that we are going! Luther!” |
“Oh! he’ll be along, presently. He 8
only after one more bunch of flowers for
somebody. Luther! Luther!”
But even Kirk’s stentorian tones awoke ca
only their own echo.
“Luther!”
“Come, Luther! We're going ae
after voice took up the cry, but there oo
no response; an gradually a feeling °
anxiety grew in each happy heart. ak
“Who saw him last? Which way Wa
he going?” 4 i
“Oh! I’m afraid heis hurt!” eried id
Miss Henrietta. “I knew that Jane wou .
like some of that dyspepsia root ig 7.
grows in the old quarry and I asked nae
to get me some. He went over theP i
yonder, but he ought to be back by
time.” the
“Long ago, you mean!” said one of s
village lads. “Like as not he’s tum ed le
into the old mine.” The speaker 4 a”
forward and upward over the rocks ane
‘through the undergrowth, and Kirk at
stantly followed him. ne
va felt sure something dreaéful would
happen, we were all so happy!” moane
Miss Johnson. pei Mi
Just as that dismal speech fell ont mae
ears, the others saw the village lad a
on the crest of the ridge before them,
throw up his hands with a gestl
dismay.
re of ; ;
CHAPTER XX VII.
LUTHER’S MISFORTUNE.
. ’
6p; HAT has happened !” Faith per
WY\Y, iety and eagerness outstriPlyy
” that of all the others. bt Tae
ao) harm should ever comm self ;
ther, who had seemed so strong 42 tas
reliant, was almost incredible. But
she gained the top of the peak, ane”
down into the depths of the
quarry, from which so many Y It
the stones had been hewn that bul that
Point Breeze mansion, she s@W
some serious harm had come.
Kirk and the other lad had descer a
the bottom, and were carefully
the head of their faithful frien
where it had lain, and Kirk. was PU
his jacket under it. Then he look
and saw his sister. “ Water, quick, 0"
he shouted. ab
Some one behind Faith dashe i
again to the spring which they h d with
their lunching-ground, and returnDe® ~~
a pail of the ice-cold water. | ide and |
Faith had reached Luther's 82° fas:
with another girl to help her d
tened the unconscious boy’s
they were chafing his flesh
bling hands. Miss Johnson
the top of the ridge and _diree
efforts from above, though she
dare venture down the uncer
clivit ”
Is he killed!
‘ What is it?
somebody in a whisper.
“No—no! Hush! He’s OPO ies
eyes,” answered Kirk, bending
ious face above the pale one of 4
ner. a jong
After what appeared to them wna
Stns Lae asked feebly: :
what’s the matter?” pa
“Reckon you've had a tumble, ol bee
low! But you’ll be all right sO irk con’
does it hurt you? What is it? of? ip,
tinued, rapidly, as a contortion
ee or es i testa ;
“My leg! I—it feels—quee! u
—it’s broke.” Luther tried to move th nis
stantly desisted, and lay back orrowing
head on the pillow of jackets his wells
comrades had made for him. ym * ‘
eee - purty—how-de-dow | A
blamed fool !”
“Glad you have a_ sense of yer
shortcomings! How did you 7 in
“Tumbled!” Mellen was 10P
dition for pleasantries. | one care
After a long silence which 1°
to break, he suddenly opené
again and demanded: “How
ter git out o’ this hole
I tell ye! I want it sot.
how fur is’t ter the county-
“A couple of miles. Yo
there!” it: y
“Yes, I be. Can't anybody 8 koe
Where's Kirk? An’ Faith?” nq sh@q
“He’s gone for the Weer shih om
gone to send some things" told t the —
blankets, or something. top? she
‘ $0 there!” After which little
White ae € of amenities, both were still
$ 'K descended to the spot.
amy 2» YOu boys said that you would
,¢0r Luther up as far as the road
't ..% fone for the wagon! Why
“al He ought not to have been
. © Were afraid.”
“praia ,Of what?”
vite carte, explode, like them dyna-
ith, ridges he bought to blow you up
: out h Crosser ’n a bull at the gate.’
: Vdon' Ow you touch him!”
i
Ki Worse know as a ‘bull at the gate’ is
“eh; mare one anywhere else,” said
hing oe oe as pies re all
e poor Luther himself,
Hira anee he did not go to the county
the eldeny U2! ly of course the news of
y Was carried far and near by
sng in Bano had been at the pienic. It
Noy ced veime to Mrs. Morrison’s ears,
OD hey og a startling fashion byAman-
hag! enteeatn home that evening.
hep by thee’ the cottage, swinging her
W. Tapiqe elastic band, and heated by
ell, T'y descent of the mountain.
mest. tad the romantickest, de-
ae hieime. Even if Luther Mellen
: 1s le Mu
: prat's that you say?”
hat I had enjoyed a roman-
ro
mantic you! Talk sense. What
eee about Luther?”
‘in’ much. He's broke his
ht oke
“hae his leg! To the goodness sake!
OP ga toward the ankle, I heerd the
Daniels, you’re enough ter pro-
a axe know what I mean—so
Tee N Sein yer being so tanta-
Tgp the ial] YOu open your lips, an’ tell
} s durin’ business, from the
Niekin: ast, er ye won't git let ter
eo, haq ite 44 in a hurry.” That
ict Most, S due effect, and’ Amanda
Acciq, Ninute description, not only
tty ib but of the entire afternoon.
new from experience that
© the 8¢ interrupting, or to try
the afte; exasperating girl to that
erele which she cared to hear
t Y said that she “should go
f80 yo Alp Faith out with the
O'es ay? Might as well take off yer
D't a Strain the milk.”
Soin’ ter stay thar, be ye?*
a, aghast.
€’ve allays boasted "bout
be Sekeeper ve’d be, left ter
e erect. Now ye’ll hev a
SNe +,
Ye ith all the work ter do?”
ter mani, recite a little o” yer
ony oe yerself, when ye’re
disturb the dogs ner the
Abra;
f Mm, he’ll be t j
Q the Mie be ter the station
ant
no
Goonp
Mrs. Morrison’s words were only too
true. Amanda stood in the cottage door
a few minutes later, and watched Mr.
and Mrs. Morrison drive away, with a
real sinking at her heart. In justice to
her it must be said, that it was not
wholly on account of, the extra labor
which would fall to her share during her
mistress’ indefinite absence; but it was
a comparison she made between herself,
and that other orphan girl at Breakneck
Farmhouse, whom everybody seemed to
love so, and who never had any trouble
come to her, but that many willing hands
were outstretched to aid her.
What made the differnce? “I’m jest as
bright as she is, though I hain’t had her
schoolin’; an’ ’t ain’t that! Her clo’es
ain’t no better ’n mine be, so ’t ain‘t
them. She works a good deal harder ’n
I do, an’ her hands is getting real rough
lookin’.”
There Amanda dropped down upon the
door-sill, and laid one hand upon the neck
of her “Tige’—whom Sidney had thought
better of killing—gazing upon it contem-
platively. Amanda had very pretty hands;
soft, white, and shapely. She had taken
excellent care that no labor should ever
injure them, which she could shirk.
Faith’s were not half so pretty, but they
had a wholesome look to them that re-
membering, Amanda rather envied.
The darkness gathered slowly about the
humble cottage, and Abram Morrison
staid long on the mountain but Amanda
stillsat with her arm around her “Tiger’s”
neck and pondered over many things. “I
wish ’t’ I could make folks love me like
they do her! I wonder if I could!” An-
other silence, broken only by the breath-
ing of the dogs which slept about her, and
the chirping of insects ir the trees.
Then the sound of wheels coming down
the road; Abram returning. “Tige! I
mean to try!” said Amanda.
“Wall, I reckin Luther’s got his sum-
mer’s job! Betty told me to say she didn’t
know nothin’ ‘bout when she’s ter be ter
home ag’in. She wants ye ter do the best
ye kin; but thar! she might as wella
said that ter the wind, fer all the good ’t
"ll do. Gracious! I be tired, I ’low.”
Amanda did not reply, but she got up
from the place where she had been sitting
and thinking so seriously, and helped Ab-
ram off with his Sunday coat, then shook
the dust from it and put it carefully
away. Then she went down cellar, and
mixed him a bowl of his favorite molas-
ses-sweetened buttermilk, lighted the
lamp, and brought him his spectacles
and the weekly paper,
Abram’s eyes opened widely in their
surprise, and he muttered to himself: “I
vum! Wonder how long ’t ’ll larst!”
Mrs. Morrison was gone three weeks;
and it lasted all that time. Day after
day, Abram watched for the reaction
which did not come. Even Betty had
never made him as comfortable as Aman-
da did; and when tke old man had ex-
hausted all his familiar and some newly
coined ejaculations, and yet failed to ex-
press his amazement, he subsided into a
abit of merely opening his mouth and
gasping—at every new act of thoughtful-
ness on the bound-out girl's part.
Then an unexpected thing occurred. A
widowed daughter of the Morrisons’ got
off the train at the Mountainville station
one day, and electrified her father by tell-
ing him that she and her children had
come home to live. She had tried making
a living for them in the city, where her
married life had been passed, but after a
brave struggle she had given up and come
home.
“Wall, Mariar, all I can say is that as
long as yer old daddy’s got aruff ter
kiver ye, ye’re more’n welcome ter it.
Yer ma’s up top the mount’in’ now, a
nussin’ Luther Mellen, what’s broke his
leg. His mother’s moved down East, so
he’s a living elstwhere. Amandy’'s ter
home, though. Go right up an’ make
yerself comfortable. I'll come soon ‘s my
job’s done.”
Maria and her boys went home, and
poor Amanda’s new career of happy use-
fulness was over. .
Maria was what is called “c>pable.”
To be “capable” in the sense that the
word applied to Maria Graves, means
that there is room in a house but for one
such person. Amanda had been endowed
with a genuine fund of “capability” her-
self; but until the three weeks of Mrs.
Morrison’s absence, she had let it slum-
ber and grow strong. The admirable
quality had aroused at last, and it had
roused to sleep no more. Result: within
twenty-four heath after Mrs. Graves ar-
rival there was such a war in the dove-
cote that Abram harnessed up and went
after his wife.
“TIT vum! I dunno what’s the reason two
female critters can’t live under the same
ruff, ’*thout rowin’ it all the hull ‘durin’
time! I wonder ef Betty ’ll be able ter
settle ’em, er whuther they'll settle
Betty! Betty's soft spoke; but Betty kin
—Gid-dap, thar, colty!” and with a
chuckle that suggested unspeakable
NEWS.
things Mr. Morrison disappeared in the
direction of Breakneck Farm house.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FAITH CLEARS THE COURSE.
(2.5 =
STN ESPITE the fact that poor Luther
did his best to make himself and
G everybody else uncomfortable by
=> useless regrets for his own “blun-
derin’ foolishness” the three weeks fol-
lowing his accident, while Aunt Betty
remained at the farm were happy weeks
for all the household.
The neighboring farmers came one after
another, and gave the boy-farmer, Kirk,
in whom they all were interested a lift
with whatever task he had on hand. He
formed new friendships with these kindly
neighbors, and boasted that he learned
much from each. They promised when
haying came on to help him; one by the
loan of a mowing-machine; another would
come and rake, and when it was ready for
housing they would make a “bee,” as in
the case of the shed building, and get it
under cover.
He did not neglect to return these
favors, whenever and wherever occasion
offered. Meanwhile the garden grew so
fast that it needed daily care, and Teddy
proved his capability there as he had in so
many other directions.
Luther’s bed .was set up in the sitting-
room, just off from the dining room, as
that made it easier to care for him as
well as far pleasanter for himself. If
anything had been needed to bind the
youth’s affection to each member of the
young household, it would have been
found in the attention that he received
from all.
Even Sidney gave up his habit of steal-
ing away by himself to read and dream,
and brought his books into Luther's
room; occasionally reading aloud some
ears that pleased himself, and de-
ighted to find Luther’s mind active if
untrained. Till then Sidney had thought
Luther a little slow; but he saw that if
not a very brilliant fellow, his slowness
was rather the result of his narrow life
than from any mental defect. He was
keen to see the humor of anything that
Sidney read; keener, indeed, than any of
them save Faith.
Luther was a “ Yankee,” so it goes with-
out saying that he was handy witha
knife; and as he could do nothing else
but lay and grumble, Faith decided to set
him to work.
One afternoon, when Aunt Betty was
dozing in her chair, and Luther lay wist-
fully listening to Kirk’s voice guiding
Jerry at the plow, the girl camein with a
bundle of sticks in her hand, and the
latest number of an agricultural paper.
Her eyes were so bright and her smile
so cheerful that the crippled lad felt his
ad discontent diminish as he watched
er.
“Well, sir, this is the firm I believe—
Merriman and Mellen! Now, what do
you think?”
“What is in yer mind now? Somethin’s
happened,”
“Yes, sir. This is a house for happen-
ings. They’re continual. Doctor War-
ren ‘happened’ you know.”
“Ye needn’t remind me o’ that. Hain’t
IT alayin’ here like a log, a worryin’ the
hull time ’bout how he’s goin’ ter be paid?”
“Luther, you—you are—cross! I endorse
Joe Summerson’s statement. Now, I want
you to get over it. You’ve been idle long
enough. Listen. Not one groan, one in-
terruption, or one bit of bad behavior.
You see these sticks? You see this paper?
You see that canvas, with its face against
the wall yonder? That canvas is to have a
Prue of the old quarry painted on it.
t has been ordered by Doctor Warren.
It is to be in payment for his care of one
ungrateful Luther Mellen, who makes life
a burden to himself just because he has
friends that love him. The agreement is
fair and square. The surgeon didn’t put
any fancy price on his work because it was
a case of skilled labor against skilled
labor. What the surgeon did the artist
would do. ‘Sauce for the gander sauce for
the goose,’ as your partner elegantly puts
it. Follow me so far?”
“You ain’t a goin’ ter paint no pictures
ter Pe fer my blamed broken leg! I rec-
kin’ if I hain’t man enough ter pay my
own doctor's bills, thar ain’t no——
“*Gal critter’ going to do it!’ I forestall
your argument, but I hadn't finished
mine. I want astudio. Big as this house
is, there isn't one room in it that hasa
decent northern light. The old shed is
used for nothing, and there is a splendid
place on one side to put asky-light. It
is a case of ‘giff gaff’ all round you see.”
Faith held up her paint-stained hand and
counted off upon the fingers: “Little
finger—broken leg. Next—Doctor Warren,
sets leg, brings in bill—no groans! Next
—girl, famous artist, paints picture, pays
bill—half. Next—cripfley grumbler or
grumbly cripple studies paper, learns de-
signs for frames, makes frame, frames
picture, Thumb—best of all. Grumbley
crippler gets well, fixes studio, Tableau!
an ntemethnanetareeinliheanetthn - a
1Ss51
Nobody owes nobody. Every body is good-
natured and makes themselves delightful.
Now, Mr. Mellen, if you have listened to
my argument I leave you to digest it.
Aunt Betty is snoring, but I shall tear
myself away from the musical sound and
“Faith, you’re the most generous girl
in the hull world, but Iain’t a goin’ ter-—”
“Luther Mellen haven’t you lived in
this family long enough to learn that
there is but one will in it, and that that is
Faith’s?”
With a smile that had so much of ear-
nestness in it that it went straight to
Luther’s honest heart, she vanished. He
began his frame that very afternoon; and
thus gave tacit admission to the fact that
“Faith’s will” was supreme in the sim-
ple home, since it wasa wil) that had
the welfare of all the household deep
down in an unselfish heart.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
a
Death of the Famous Horse
Comanche,
en aliies
OMANCHE, the most celebrated
horse in the United States cavalry
service, died at Fort Riley last
month. He was forty-five years
of age and the only living thing belong-
ing tothe United States service which
escaped the massacre at the battle of
Little Big Horn, where General Custer
and his command were massacred. He
was one of the original mount of the
Seventh Cavalry which regiment was or-
ganized in 1866, and had been in almost
every battle witn the Indian service.
After the battle of Little Big Horn he
was found covered with wounds, riderless
and saddleless, some distance from the
scene of the massacre. He was taken
charge of by Captain Rowlan and sent to
Fort Riley, where for fourteen years he
has not been subject to bridle, and has
been in charge of the Seventh Cavalry.
His death was due to old age. Pis skin
will be stuffed and mounted and kept in
the museum of the Kansas State Univer-
sity until the World’s Fair at Chicago,
where it will be taken for exhibition.
Enterprising showmen have from time
to time endeavored to secure Comanche
for exhibition purposes, but the author-
ities have invariably refused to disturb
his well-earned rest. Comanche was the
horse of Captain Keogh, a relative of Gen-
eral Custer. He was found about a day’s
journey from the scene of the battle, and
the soldiers who recognized the well-
known horse of Captain Keogh, the sole
survivor of the Custer massacre, never ex-
pected that they could get him back to
camp alive, for he had seven bad wounds
and was very weak from’ loss of blood.
With good treatment, however, he fully
recovered.
Special provision was made for the care
and support of Comanche. Once in a
while, when the cavalry troops were on
inspection, Comanche was led out, sad-
dled and bridled, but no one ever sat in
his saddle after the battle of the Little Big
Horn. It has long been said that after
Comanche’s death his skin would he pre-
pared and sent to the National Museum at
Vashington, and there is little doubt that
that will be its ultimate destination.
It will be remembered that Custer’s ill-
fated command used the dead bodies of
their horses killed by the shower of Indian
bullets as a barricade, as far as possible.
All the horses were saddled, as the troop
had _ ridden into the valley and attacked
the Sioux camp; and, as Comanche was
found ee of his accouterments, it
has always been supposed that his saddle
and bridle were taken by the victorious
Indians, who, believing that he would die
of his wounds, turned him loose. The
body of every other horse that carried the
brave cavalry into battle on that fateful
morning was found among the heaps of
the slain soldiers.
A somewhat similar incident occurred
earlier in the history of our warfare with
the Sioux. It was during the terrible
massacre of 1862, when the Sioux of Min-
nesota killed nearly a thousand people on
the frontier. Impressing squads of soldiers
from Fort Snelling scoured the country,
taking men and horses from the fields,
and hurrying them up the Minnesota
River to fight the Indians. One of the
mounted bands of farmers who were thus
hurried to the front were surrounded and
attacked by several hundred Indians at
Birch Coolie early one morning. It was
nearly two days before reenforcements
came and the Indians were driven off.
Quite a number of the amateur soldiers
had been killed or wounded, and every one
of their horses, with a single exception,
had been shot dead and their bodies were
dragged into apile to serve asa barricade.
This exception was an eight-year-old bay
mare, owned by a Hennepin County far-
mer. Not a bullet had touched her. In-
stinct seemed to have led herto “lie low”.
After serving through the campaign she
was returned to peace and the plow on
her owner's farm,
e&
\y
NT Go
Biss ee of David Commi Ss.
Sears RK, DECEMBE me NTER, AN »| lain; “ 1s,” w
ler eae IBER —— » AND IN é a bu 7 was
: isn? ta tint 3ER 19, 1891 wie ae Ay INDIAN SLAY rem will tints are oe reply
months (Post Subscri eee BY - SLAYER ves. I otect ite n of Ch
4 months iia: 3 STAGE I dae owe ge M. SILIN . | have am he these li 1en, and amber-
6 nronths Sa “2 io] — = Sketch XVI LINGSBY. have christened the ee et Selene seainnt th
One Year -- - 85e. 1 copy, tw ‘ yee mM pe : ans se s wit s, | tribe i
2 copies, one yea 5 25 | Goo New Fork W - $4 1 ‘in 11.—Lovell's Fi g The fa a ee ures coprardly, imps eal lying ene ——
: ante 3 cose i oe | ee Ei ety aid MAL we ae Tight.—The T Soe sil’er jhe. Poi a geek My cheek Peace Se a warlike —
- 0. Box 29: & SMUT = ie = Ree \v~ and his iset_ of » Truce, | ©! 8 peltries,” e gave | : remie! mpson.” to j amberlai “ om the co
2734. ps Ws Go $4.5( «?) Sam giant Char lng at Ss, mu s e my membe 1. Join thi ain and untry A
é 29 & 3 00D NEW ins E tl pson tl kins nberlai forgot the rec rmured oor ’Z, rT the two Ms litt] Sam
ontent 31 Roses iW, stantly 1e now. he ext sman, A n, | Mar ; your collecti Mv See ra Wal young ai haa A peon a
g of thi ih treet, N.Y The y hushed terrifi iltant A Abel aud rtha hav kindne ion. “Ds ry, bri riw dron, t protege a, and | unteered
N.Y. ie? hed. ed savé yells o ruel sav 1ave | coness, a Javie ght- vock, , the, s s in eaving their
“The F SERIA I » 18 Number phosphorescent High for vages a so tes een torn ae ae hot hes yee ee coe Lady
ool of th AL STORIE. , ane = ughter ight, 1 ‘ms, flami 1e gia ‘asy, the me b and } } ader in 1g. The ¢ rain-ba: orridge-
‘6 He fhe Family,’ ES. i e of the vis HOE > leaped ming wit confi ant fur-tr on, my y the 1e had going w chief obj nd, early
‘A Chri myng ily "bh ng wret etwo gi an inst to tl ith | x idence: ‘ rader, i: poor w that given as tor yject of
Pane viacmas W » by B to ai etch giants stant 1e work me! Tpled ‘for r, ina oman.” : he w to the redee the fur-
Frank ‘mas Weddi racebri to aid t es dum! ats str ; the a rk | th pled or, b tone n,” cri from vould r 1e dyi m the promi
Hunt edding, - idge in the hem ib. Thei uck the ppear- | t em. fror ge you y Heaver of wolianwes Tl captivity rescue Dac pionee i 4
: Al er’s Per « by Oli 5 fro mid “tf and tl ‘ir limt cower- empt n ca sti my tain on! the aken ee ley ca y, or ! avie a r mother uth
‘Chas ger J 4 eril,”’ lver 0 zen stat st of 1ey st »s ref last . Wo p sivity ord I wi at mad iv er mped perisl i nd his sist Ser
sehr sed Tl we I. , by ptic Wit atues their’ ood t noa| we bre man, i y or peri will res de | in ¢ or strez on tl 1 in th er
Tom E 1roug! ¥ Hor; aoe tw h gl . e hellish ransfix wast 7 ath > if thi rish . rescue > a sout eam. whi 1e mar r- e attemp f (
‘dison, J 1 Norway.” atio thei flan sleaming work xed aaah it in you mi ht was in the at + | Penobs h-easte which st gin of a small
“ Phili JY, an . by J heir cnaetio mo hatche like | yo 1er tha the b x it well to be y at- | scou scot cou erly dire: raped its
“Bronknock arm. vay.” by James Otis. | “On en and. ten hets upraised the young, hero bore poeta be proud tol t guts struck ry, and here toward the
e Sketcl m,” by : . by | w n reachi wing srrified inded i Il pr rough ere y—for are th ached amy’s f > trail some of th :
itches y Evely y | was c aching th ther circ into promis ght hi e@ ever r Davie i ie | tri id war- let ee of th eit
trated of Davi elyn R i confi g the n dow rcle As sed hi im the si was ie is ribes t r-parties was e savages &
\, by : id Gummi aymo ng hee ned, the tree w Nn. , and | ove smile m,” e silv one, a a | agains hen i ies fro compos ‘ WT’
“Cold Sean Silingsby. Oli | wi and qu bbrush-woodt ehien ieeae over the mother's featur vas one, and Eset erent rin Teague the four ad ret re
‘old-W: PIT STi ° ee ich sl ickl od tl he | ry tor ous er’s fe sweet ;}and di nts, a ,0rthe ; each other v
“The L ater Fra STORIES. Wan’ eta sunde ak weeded N Set een features, f ness p and irectio a wtlendee of o1 ne a Mi
ady Fr ank,” by U LD. hav vas the een bo red the rounded largery heart in the s, follow assed 1d abori on of tl inder th ir colonia th he
: om y Un e pare ee th und t thongs nes ry, wl 5 cease throe ed by The r iginal gi 16 ‘eglebin e Jeadersbi e le
“Cant Robson's mouiten, Ways by them incapable thn Gone tothe fatal tree find a hor noha come in at, and the moth ‘recomnoitering Pangea cadet | te th
bson’ purton »” by Loui Bath Pei e of acti age seeme , | her o ome— sba into Safindsh tet rior as ig party sav ba
br s Chris P ouise the hohe action s, and red t r old a nd a the wi gs. | hi mp-f as hes rty s fellow’.
“Rock idge stmas,” b 80 | had atoncr such!” “Death Saat ts ee eee ioaui Roos ro eeode frail the mam allow |
ky Mountai "by J.T ot ace see is broke anet | While gas Pence ate Se sky follow he See aa camp: fire re, Ta
S. E intain T . Trow- fleeir ents. Ti burst f ) Touch a: 1 While g: 7e. nd on refu s to hei was owers ation al d p Shap u
“Local } illis rapper,” i ig fror hen rom them in w nad gi gazin y, alas! ge in ight near sev 1d glory of oP
Tee 2 r,” b nvaders i n the ext m nem ir ere | st gone g upo s! apr pro , and seven Joun
s,” b y Edw rs in pres acin tives terri artled wal tours the f pre-|s portio of cor feet ze ue
»” by Max A ward every dil ence o the i- | sound j by oreve orm w statur ns. H rrespondi and a half in e
del y directi f the f Y were nd jus ‘ a low Yr, the t Ww hose thr re tha ar we ndingl fnoy
“The Chi MISCE. er. ion. rightf pot euecan se Onin wh Gren:| tatig'* © Son Sad annie y massive harveh
r ‘hi LLA ulla le O eo ining men y lair four i Sa arcely 1] ‘ ve
“TheS mney-S LANEOU glad rson rai uter dark whir were 1. inche mpson ess 12 bes
“ chiseo} weep.” S, shout aised hi arknes nperit C s taller tl and_at least aero
on Schisecphone, Powatan ‘of recogni ene oa 18 aeaen Fm er than Chamber € bretty
era ot the ; eaten!" 4 er tldiver ad this ‘ho ed gt
“I he ea abutting a an!” he exclai . ieee ofan a beetle never before 0” % sister
What e Knot” g the T claimed or of cone Ww regar giant 0 th Nor e and
“f Does Baby (ilu eeth.” _ | oF depre 1cealm arded him fi e No pate
low t s Baby D strated . admi catior ent, n im from nis n ugh
“Do 0 Make Sik ream ?” yi ee n, but wi ot with co te t fake
“G a Good Ta eleton L (Poetry) whi d like t ith looks of ie He rtune,
eee wa Rainfal When ee aan th iy him or an ‘
ee arious one the Wo ae (Poetr the » ndien Bla at back-hug!” is Vin
eee. the ec Sleep rid. : : y). Chambe noting a yer to his com: ag ane
“g :” 1 ; nberlai
’ Specie Ro ‘Poatry). Horse Co hurried hace mand 1 that wa ; retty e
‘Ca oom of y)- manche.” comm ack to his tw s to be seen? 0} i
“Cap of Lib of an Oc Ms T eda sto wo companione Ceo
Athletic " erty.” ean Stes he dista pand re . sm
‘How Dy Training f eamship.” aan er en to t porte La the . ag ers
ynamite is Mi Busines oe was y- encamped he pond where the han St
REGU s Manuf 238 People.” me tw ched was ab here. h dao
“ GUL act pie. th oh b out ] ep) 0
? LAR ured.” e o hours y Lo gix miles ae
he Great WwW DEPA R1 r San Repel safter su vell and his party thors T
peerrionas 1MENT: SReE e pe and came. ith; J ai 1yegh
fe or 'N pos m he ent a
6S} ssor R s Arot INTS. vith av sition t e in é id On’
1ort Talks ndolpl ind Us,” siderab olley Oo hev o sig of the £9 t
ee % sy SP reap ts a. mthey aa the attack mop pote
Professions, the Boy chet cand ean re whic did cov" tenet 8
“F y . §, aD ys” 0 ined fir rity ; e : : hear 2
“Exchange Depar oro ater Trades by inch firm, at their indie seeing ices ut
Ticklets, Depa wall ss Pursui ; for.the : The estin n forces re ables
‘ klets,” rtment.”’ ° suits he mi day g the ak’ and et
‘Mail Bag by Ch nt. : the in iddle of. was ex ground jne to rox
ssPy ag i as. W. F kept cessant April cessively wall tovien
sears ater 9 » Foster. ethdsa Deco oan ve tae pours Bet Stay
4a er. 2 ‘ musk was e
iit Sesia td e this kee Chall” Tutte’
th ere the : single vain or an op” ay nm.
the figh giant out P trou 2
OUR follow t, urgi seemed augus- very’ wou} On
CHRI Doan dite nein AnD to be foremost | thome™
ST , ind hi d thot eering on pis dusk me,
A very m 1 igh & J with
fe mee S NUMB SS ry thickest of Ae ie bullets 74 tled Pithous”
VA ELL a ER Iw with’ Cha of the deus came out of the oft ee
AN num BOYS, this i : SS) only his metaerietn nea unscathed ot the te
ao), a nber! ade is our Chri aS a a flash ane and a. covered pitt onto fan
e pleased wi oyoulikei ristm Paka te powd twice there was Ught Use:
pen aiafoct the os with it we widpaal a! on T waa ha ot anne tte. dul the pend ad a ; to
4 : ’ “ * rn y J? 8}
our e been Sat material f ours we t ed,| Ou GE RELAX The: b shot. been sealed, for be {hatte he
tae sea for | spent Leino Was to rtwo fri ED HIS cover attle w eae
c th . p News| ti M ri H a of was On oe
for eongrataatin past Sear we dud rei ng git ‘ eee thet OLD AND CAME Pees fe cong trees fought moar und re ete)
we have iblished e fin nd ca sotitities Hits of th trond” He attenti TUMBL teat izing, ontest m usbess whic then!
wi secured ; and th e collecti use | Man s liter the fir the e ntion | “ ING TO han wot , and ore protracted and eat,» OF
wba ade cee Ronee oe still lay ack ia roasted the ae ait aia THE GROUND — manny fell een dest t, By Lou
saad 3 staff s when w 1 sure th ors = h thing. V artial De dyin ex- T , good 8 come . cated Gan 11 upon b open field g th 8m (
for oe cometieteie tl at you | &re er eyes Vith faint tcet he n y! Ir back due dheaten © h oth sides an’, bater
Your young A tributor hat we h 1) Sh nninote”’ and a low m thor the ext m n so gl agai though elter rad tak Ve i D jp ttl
‘ ve : s gazed i wm igh | ti sagaci oment ad!” n! O | gh by of a ken up Fig position TG
story b paatioutar asians always a und pcre he boys’ eS 5 Che y poor 2 ose ¢ , me ‘aint- The lity whi o be gui nd, anc d at -eled, or tr. San istance: tj Wil]
note nec to Trowbridge "an el me, heavenly | tha lapping Sheena ; Freer th ret peppered: wore | fe ale
y . Sas: o call Felco ge, & are ; dis zed S$ mur- ough g th ntir rtaken so Z int ve er ba pere _—you iJ} i tl
well kn in this nu attenti me. It wi h cowe iscovere abo livi gh tr e face ne w the br o at e’s a bi , hir® sh tt
y 7 : ad th ut hi ivin anspor es of vas f m. ; ing hi ree t big IndiaD eli® 0 Ob
Pea to all mber, as tl on to the will vanced, a ring in tl e fri im Seei g frier orted wi the chi ondli but t im do fo get a 1’ wpuld €
reader: s their other then , and taki 1e dar ighten , and eeing ids lef with joy childre ng he dur: wn if I po at yous an ey fe
and Coens ers of G names Ww 1 shrinki Ing tl arknes: ed chil cupi gz the or t to w JOY to fi en, as Glanci urned only aé muskets prt th
test wi partic of our wi x00D N S are here Mé iking 2 1em b s. He -|¢ pied, Ch shans elcom find so S| cov icing u warmints ; a mur a. ni hin e
st Wl ulars r wint NEws “rE arg and y the he ad- heir amberlai thus e his re me ered a 8: p hasti s hev ot mine plow g
them. ll be cnlars regarding n program a ears mee was bite Sipe tag led their sttention toa F snd agreeably preoe to the ee ee the fur trader dis: git ne thi
vi i in suing new prize cn] a>. nla foc oan ee i eine commanded 8 hehe a
oop Ni impossit ges. R -| “My ened ton dtativark! tottinn: stretched a ain by lalf a aminati ned | Position. |X _& com ring tes x het know
town EWs at sible or di ead eff y poor es. “7p rt Indi y poor ed arou y thei a doz tion of evelled ae Vith plete view 0 nis ow? ‘Vey No
i ffi ort; “ darli hey baantpliteti Nea Se ade en of ar hi out waiti h ue Sac
full or cou any new iffieult t leav ; man Ings ” are saf ES ayer ca r by em wn ha the nd. fire S wea aiting 0 parley Ito aid
particul ntry, pl »wsdealer’ o obtain | V ave her li ima is a she aa afe.” ’ sses of 1 were . nds, lay and ed. Tl pon at th s pang yo
ares} please w er’s in ain WV yate ittle ying—s dded wi from the tw the h iy came 1e sava je sku fc] fig, Ou 8q
ae oat an see Fe a tat morc afc he ia | oe
ead the N ° ng | beads in! whadcen” ine ‘ieee o| “W Sagawar odiée of Ese We tus ares thewxette was joi “parle ‘I ator =
ad the Ney ‘O} 1er b en ne ore.” a and | chi e wi m. Ezeki far nehow xciten joined by af Oy haw?
B ‘ V Seh CQ us?” ADO, 2 osom an stled thei ildren ill tak ciel, Wy enemie contrive nent oO he fight, pa a 8a. ave
ob Porter at 1 ie Story, entitled ai pleaded. oo sien hots man to Waliron’s x ie e ofthis mamm ved to e8ceh igi i
di re idk tas gl é go and | said Ch od Want th , and tl rtunate | 8 two ee fri joyed at ¥ oget of Shot a rt
‘heal ned By WAL eview A e two men hal ie leave d Chaml hunt ies of thiae | +. ers D ade be and tore” of wy id vir
tell ere begin i TER M 04, em whi ou ar heneocksio. into th The li yerlain em to ese save m hamber uring tl ir way 0 Jace t th Wa do ¢
isla ost dor eee ORRIS y lispered e good ingly e face a gre ittle settlen the death,” of th rainhabe thickest” Of, e ff, en (Ot
oe not frien ha th Faab *1 poor.s déialy. 3 els, s of | sur at stres ement ath,” | oat e pond t ad ventured t the shor “Y ’
that he at thi You ¢ the ambs, y: s, Ik o rroundi ss of exci was labori si his musk o slake hi red 0 he, ea? Wa,
has appeared in Ca ely ian aaa pee ae pele inding habitations wei poring under similar purpore At the thirst ond “or 8 tn Wao
some tim erin itly he abo ‘o the. » my he prote es having s S were st of t e »pposi se, Paugus ea ae ed ol ny beet ty
ae g- er mi ve. Wi 1e fold o garris cting sougl abana ‘he | emptie te sid gus ha qvarce ere ord I
Poo nd was ill you nc of | pre son-house shelter ght refuge oned, |" Eraty neve eee oth wearer, we tip, toh
r woman, We partially. wan: Pate Winths for Maj or ine gp mithin ete power t neither © rn Dae scien
a vv in aj as sjonsy | OBte ‘S jure t ay. » hat
are very far fr eaten i Hilton Waldron and and | tb inst, . Ninto.@ " the e the con ‘and thy 0 Re ;
aa One company of 8 agai re on the Cap. kets, af athe, a ruce to rene! ts d Ob ta;
Lovell of sixty _ te akracee of loadin et MRich tl wash out thei Myce tha aln
» was yeaa rea! res. could to at the pot were 60 nmetno v Byte .
eady to march tage of th quickest 5 Srvents 82, gt mt’ oh
march e first ah was to have the # ait 0 Ro e
ot. tre f Bae
(TO BE CON hey ne f
TINUED+) rh" a
On’
t
Goop
NEWS.
1353
OR,
| A CHRISTMAS WEDDING:
THE BOYS OF ‘61.
By OLIVER OPTIC,
; Author of “Lake Shore Series,” “Great Western
Series, “Onward and Upward Series,” “* Yacht
Club Series,” “Nothing But a Boy,” ete.
a
CHAPTER I.
THE SECRET COMPACT.
’
a M going tothe war because I can't
‘i? Stay away, Bennett,” said Tufton
aR a os athletic fellow, who
i. oar, a high social position in one of
i 4 Hyg larger towns of Pennsylvania.
een. Ink it is easy enough to stay from
a fellogttle-tield, especially when a
Ps ha 18 sO well situated as you
‘el ufty, replied Bennett
ayon: wWithasmile. “For ae
age Ng man of your
eno well
i Yeh
ave
Be 4 5 4 bretty sister,
I do,” replied Tufton, shrugging his
shoulders.
“T don’t think I am‘a very bad-looking
fellow.”
“I don’t think you are.”
a. don’t think I can be very disagree-
able.”
“I think you are the most agreeable
fellow I ever met.”
“T am not rich; but I have a good situ-
ation as bookkeeper of the irom works.”
“TI should say you were rich enough to
marry.”
“But your sister Winnie dislikes me, to
say the very least,” continued Bennett.
“And you won’t say a word in my favor.”
“I can’t help it if she does dislike you.
I should as soon think of tackling a wild
tiger as to meddle with a young lady in
a matter of the affections. You have my
best wishes, and I should like to have
you for a brother-in-law. But I don’t
meddle with such matters except on my
own account.”
va “You have unbounded in-
~~. fluence over her, and
LSE
—
and an adopt-
ba ie vister, “aM
en wedsome
i tough to
ye NOE fake her
om fortune F
nte Bean. Sis.
evident e Winuis
camer ft 80
is com ty, and
ye see ag ganis
jos - Sensible
7 the ie She is
Piha o's tetsome, ”
ere the — tip Lufton,
< miles Tagent fully.
js patty | geg Ot t like the
nome oe at leaving my
gine | tecther and my sis-
> attace * Reeds et the country a
tid ing - eable ton, man who
at. ened ot ,home, but my con- 4
® Tatton, on’t let me do so,” adde
e was 4
“cha r trogpitn't think your conscience will
very 7. ®t home °2 much about it if you do stay
most Withae’® are men enough to go to the war
dusky You oe’, Men like you going, Tufty.
: of (yousht to stay at home and take care
thehoust i! . You are the only man in
URhE to » hey can't spare you, and you
hagot#y at home.”
Ye talked with mother about it,
o
Qn
ee
: =
a
%
ef trad =| An
ne sed Mapp gl takes a sensible view of the
ee pe. to go * Of course she doesn’t want me
d, Se On, ny vhile she believes all who are able
40 as 1 0 be willing to go. The girls are
vit Ne » Of patriotism as an egg is of
BR, Xou Plied Tufton, rather gloomily.
Brose tOn’t mean to say that Mollie
a battle . ene to have you go-to
oy thereat eld?” queried Bennett, wit
+ YOu, qulous smile. “She is too sweet
1 ufty, ¢ ‘
: at y, to allow your head to be
or se pats With a shell.”
p theme hay a is too fond of me to wish to
do ¢ten” ite wis my duty. Yes, Bennett,
is wt $ iV inn} ling I should go to the war. So
DO oa of te tough she cried at the men-
r ex? Petite, the idea. More than all this, I
Or ei Shoulq fe My duty to go. and I’m going.
ou BY the ,
wey
»
nit voter t understand me. I don’t
Court her for me; that is ab-
Won I
tpt to ly wanted you to say a good
witiens ©? about me,” added Bennett,
You Vhat 1:
re 4 CaN
the fay, rest friend on earth, outside
Drop Y. She hears me speak well
teg most every day in the week,”
etton, warmly.
to Seems to dislike me. She
fire" my & party with me, and keeps
he tee Bone all she can. She won't
oat 4nce to say anything sweet
* think she likes you as well as
I cay to her? She knows
like you first rate, andI think you are fit
to be the husband of any woman, Winnie
included; but what’s the use, if she
doesn’t think so? Respect is one thing,
and love is another. She may yet love
you, and I hope she will; but she cer-
tainly never would if I attempted to per-
suade her to do so. It is her business,
and I have no right to meddle with it,
unless she were fascinated with a villain
or a gambler.”
“T still think you show a want of confi
dence in me, Tufty,” added the disap-
pointed lover.
“T think both Winnie and I have per-
fect confidence in you; but that doesn’t
cover the whole question of love and mar-
riage. If Winnie doesn’t love you, she
will never marry you, not even to please
mother or me and that is where she is
right.”
“I shall never marry anybody else,
Tufty,” protested Bennett.
“She may love you well enough to
marry you yet, Bennett. But let us drop
the subject, for I have other matters to
talk to you about be-
fore I go off for years,
perhaps never to re-
turn,” said Tufton,
rather sadly, as he
thought of leaving his
mother and his sisters,
and of never seeing
them again.
works to the rest of the company, and the
other five now own all the property.”
“If you leave the iron works, they will
turn me out of my position,” selfishly in-
t rposed the bookkepeer.
“T stipulated that they should not do
this; and I shall give you a hold upon
them that will prevent them from doing
it. They gave me fifty thousand dollars,
which is just the amount I put into it.
They were afraid that if one-sixth of the
capital were withdrawn it would impair
the credit of the company. For this rea-
son, they wanted the sale to be a secret
for a year or so, until a few more con-
tracts have bettered their finances.”
“They will ride over me if they know
that the secret is in my keeping,” sug-
gested Bennett.
“On the contrary, they would not buy
my share until they knew_ who was to
possess the secret. When I mentioned
your name, they were perfectly satistied.”
“Very well; [ am perfectly content.”
“Here are three checks—one for twenty
thousand dollars, and two for fifteen
thousand each. ‘They are on different
banks in Philadelphia, where you can
best invest the money in‘ your name,
Here are the three checks, made payable
to your order. Take them, and remember
the fortune of the widow and the orphan
is in your keeping.” said Tufton, impres-
sively. “I know I can trust you.”
“I would sooner wrong myself than you,
uuder such circum-
INSTEAD OF TEARS, THERE WAS A GLEAM OF MALIGNITY IN HIS EYES, WHILE SOME-
THING LIKE A SMILE PLAYED UPON HIS LIPS,
a few words from you would settle the
affair forever,” complained Bennett.
“T am afraid they would; and for that
reason I will not utter them,” replied
Tufton, firmly, as he looked on the
ground.
“But that is unkind of you, Tufton.”
“JT don’t think it is. If I have influence
enough over my sister to induce her to
marry any man, I would not use it. If
she dislikes you, as you say she does, I
certainly would not influence her ina
direction contrary to her affections. I
would not take the responsibility of such
a course for all the world,” replied Tuf-
ton, earnestly. “I like you, Bennett: but
if she doesn’t, it is not my fault. She is
the best judge in the selection of a hus-
band: and I shall not interfere with her
free choice.”
“You don’t seem to think I am fit to be
her husband,” added Bennett, bitterly.
“Nothing of the sort, my dear fellow, I
“T don’t see how you can go, Tufty,” re-
lied Bennett. “All the money you
nave in the world isin the iron works,
and your family are entirely dependent
upon you for their support.”
“Bennett, I want to enter into a secret
compact with you,” continued Tufton,
fixing an earnest gaze upon his friend.
“T cannot tell you about it until you
soiemnly promise not to reveal to any one
what I'tell you, whether you accept the
trust I wish to confide to you or not.”
“TI will swear never to reveal a word of
what you say to any one,” promptly re-
plied Bennett, gazing with astonishment
into the face of the sollier, for he had
already joined the “five hundred thous-
and strong.” :
“You will be true to me, I know.’
If there was anything to indicate that
Bennett would not be true, it was his
violent protestations that he would be so.
“T have sold all my interest in the iron
stances.”
“You must in-
vest the money, for
the interest ought
to be thirty-five
hundred dollars;
and that is all my
mother and sisters
have to live on.
You can pavit over
to my mother, and
simply tell her it
comes from me.
She will suppose
it is the proceeds
of my share in the
foundry.”
Bennett promised
all that was re-
quired.
In less than a
week, after a bitter
parting with the
loved ones at home,
Captain Tufton
Morris, for he had
been elected and
commissioned, was
on his way with
his regiment to the
scat of war on the
Potomac,
CHAPTER II.
ON THE BATTLE-
FIELD.
HE disaster at
Ball's Bluff was
the only great
event that had
occurred since the defeat at Bull
un. Instead of disheartening the
Unionists, it spurred them to re-
newed exertions, and soldiers were
sent forward in great numbers from the
North.
Captain Morris was on duty, and had
proved himself to be a bold, brave officer.
One day he was surprised to see his
friend Bennett Sharp come into the camp
with a squad of recruits for his regiment.
He was as glad as he was surprised to see
his friend.
“I thought you were not disposed to
join the army, Bennett?” said Captain
Jorris, after they had shaken hands,
“IT was not; but I could not stand the
pressure any longer,” replied the recruit,
“IT got to feeling just as you did before
you left. I felt that it was my duty to
fight for my country, and here I am.”
Captain Morris inquired about the
family, and learned that they were all
well, and as happy as they could be with
one of their number on the field of battle.
Bennett, as he had written before, had
safely invested the money in Philadelphia,
and had paid over the income to Mrs.
Morris as fast as it was due. Before he
left home he had arranged to have the
money sent to her as it became due. Cap-
tain Morris was entirely satisfied with
what his friend had done, and they pro-
ceeded to talk over events at home.
“There is no show at home with Win-
nie for anybody who is not in the army,”
said Bennett. “She thinks more of Tom
Spottswood, though he is in the rebel
army, than she does of me. She says a
man ought to fight for his country, and
she has more respect for a rebel soldier
than for a Union shirk. She always liked
Tom Spottswood when we went home
from college on a vacation.”
“Tom is as good a fellow as ever drew
the breath of life, if he isa rebel. By the
1354
way, he is stationed within a few miles
of this camp,” replied Captain Morris.
“T suppose it will be your duty or mine
to shoot him, even if Winnie is very fond
of him,” added Bennett, bitterly.
“Undoubtedly, and we may have to do it
soon for we are to make a reconnoissance
to-night,” answered Captain Morris.
“Am I to take part in the affair?” in-
quired Bennett, with some trepidation.
“Of course you ure; we want all the
men we can get, for our numbers are
reatly reduced by sickness. You have
had as much experience in military affairs
as had when I joined the regiment.
We may have a brush, for they are very
active lately.”
“Then we are both liable to be killed
before morning,” said Bennett.
“Of course we are liable to be killed;
but I have made up my mind that the
chances of being hit are rather small,”
said the captain, rather lightly.
Bennett asked a great many questions,
and Tufton gave him all the information
he possessed himself, which, however,
was very meager. Before they had made
much progress in the conversation, the
supper call was sounded. The rations
were served at an earlier hour than usual,
for the regiment had a rather long march
before they reached the locality where they
were to “feel of the SOE Everything
was hurry and bustle about the camp,
and there was hardly time to take the
names of the new recruits; and Bennett’s
name was not taken at all, as he was en-
gaged with the captain.
At dark the regiment marched, leav-
ing only acamp guard behind. At nine
o'clock they approached a town in Vir-
ginia, near which a considerable force of
the enemy was supposed to be posted. It
was important to know whether or not
the supposition was true, in viewof a
movement about to be made by a larger
force. Four companies of cavalry aided
in the reconnoissance.- This portion of
the force was sent to the south of the
town, to stir up any troops that might be
posted in that direction. They captured a
couple of pickets, who denied that there
was any Confederate force in the neigh-
borhood.
They went through the town, and cap-
tured half a dozen secessionists, who had
made themselves very obnoxious.
The regiment to which Tufton and Ben-
nett belonged had halted some distance
from the town, to co-operate with the
cavalry in case of an attack. It was five
o’clock in the morning when the cavalry
had accomplished their purpose, and the
battalion one the regiment, and the
march back to the sarap was begun.
The force had not been on the march
half an hour before it was fired upon by
a brigade of rebels. The strength of the
enemy was very heavy. The Pennsylvania
infantry promptly formed to resist the
attack. It was still dark, and the Union
force could see their assailants concealed
in the woods. But the rattle of musketry
was heard along the line. Presently an-
other force of rebels appeared; and the
colonel commanding ordered his battalion
to march, in order to avoid being sur-
rounded by the two wings of the enemy.
A sharp skirmish ensued, in which the
captain took a prominent part. Captain
Morris rallied his company, and took a
osition to cover the retreat. He ordered
is men to fire into the rebels, who had
now come out from their ambuscade, as
fast as they could. Every man loaded
his musket and fired without regard to
any particular order.
It was very sharp work for a few min-
utes, during which Captain Morris
dropped on the ground, and his compan-
ions believed he was killed.
If the lieutenant in charge had not pre-
vented it the company would have rushed
into the very arms of the rebels to avenge
the death of their beloved captain. The
squadron of cavalry galloped into the
midst of the scene, and with cutlass and
earbine drove back the rebels. In the
inidst of the severe fire under which the
company retired Bennett Sharp dropped,
and was not seen to move again. Several
wounded men were carried off by their
companions, but there was no time to
remove the dead men, and Captain Morris
and Bennett were left on the field. The
colonel commanding handled his force so
well that he reached camp without fur-
ther delay lost. The colonel barely escaped
from death himself, and he had left his
dead men on the field of battle.
The rebels pursued the battalion, though
the cavalry frequently charged into them
and drove them back, until reinforce-
ments were at hand, and then they re-
treated in turn. The rebels had hardly
left the scene of the first skirmish before
Bennett Sharp raised his head: and looked
ail about him. No one appeared to be on
the battle-fleld except the dead. He rose
then and again carefully looked all about
him. He could hear the tramp and the
shots of the retiring forces. He walked
over to the place where he had seen Cap-
tain Morris go down. His face was
covered with blood from a wound in the
back of his head, and what he could see
GoonD
|
of his face was as pale as death itself. |
He looked over his friend, and was satis-
fied that he was dead. Instead of tears |
there was a gleam of malignity in his
eyes, while something like a smile played
upon his lips. Though he had fallen in
the affray he appeared not to be wounded,
or to have even a scratch upon him.
Having assured himself that his friend, |
who had reposed a solemn trust in him,
was dead, Bennett cautiously entered the
woods on the left of the road. He moved |}
toward the Potomac River, carrying his
musket with him.
At the next roll-call, after the Pennsyl-
vania regiment had returned to the camp, |
Captain Morris was reported killed in the
first skirmish, as well as several others.
The loss of Captiain Morris was sorely felt,
for he was a general favorite in the com-
pany and inthe regiment. It appeared
that the recruit whose name was not
taken was Edward Jones, for he was the
only one of the squad who was not pres-
ent. It was plain that Bennett had en-
listed under an assumed name. As Cap-
tain Morris was killed, the fact could not
be shown in the camp, and it was not
likely to be shown in any other place, for
he had enlisted ina town far from his
home.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
oo oo
T [ALKS
SHOR EOYs
BY ARTHUR SEWALL,.
eee
R. H., New York, writes: ‘Please let me
know how I can become a detective, also how
to become a reporter? Ilike them both. Also
let me know if I have a nice, )usiness hand ?”
Now Robert, the first thing for you to
do is to give up the foolish idea of becom-
ing a detective, as the only way of becom-
ing a detective is to wait until you are of
sufficient age and size to become a police-
man and receive promotion to a detective
in the regular manner. Even when you
are eligible to become a policeman it wil)
be useless to attempt to become “one of the
finest” unless you have considerable politi
cal backing. The so-called private de-
tective agencies are not recognized by the
authorities in any way, and there are
rumors of a bill to be presented to the
Legislature prohibiting them from doing
business in this State. With the reporter
it is different and I admire your selection,
and think you would make a success at it
as your writing and composition would
lead one to suppose that you have a fair
education and are capable of writing up a
good account of any ordinary event that
might occur. Read answer to F. D. W.,
“Short Talks,” in No. 81 Goop News, re-
lating to the work of newspaper people.
INQUIRER, New York, writes: “Which do you
think pays the best—civil engineering or a good
commercial traveler ? What education is needed
for the latter? Is it necessary to be a good
writer ?”
The two professions or business pur-
suits you inquire about are as wide apart
as any two could possibly be. With civil
engineering one must be a college gradu-
ate or a smart scholar and inclined to
arts, while successful commercial travel-
ers must be men of the world, who can
accustom themselves to all classes of peo-
le and circumstances. Strictly speaking,
it is not necessary to be a polished scholar
to be a traveling salesman, but there is a
certain amount of knowledge a man must
have. The principal requirements for a
traveler are perseverance, good conver-
sational powers and a thorcugh knowledge
of the world. A good commercial traveler
will earn as much money in a year as any
ordinary civil engineer.
E. Y., Indianapolis, Indiana, writes: “T am
18 years old, attend high school, have an agency
fora daily paper by which I support myself,
am five feet ten inches tall, tolerably well de-
veloped, attend a Y. M.C. A. gymnasium daily,
under routines from a physical director.
think it about time to choose some occupation
for life, but am undecided what course to pur-
sue, and any advice you can give me will be
gladly accepted. Ihavea great liking for the
military, and have pied a company of the
National Guard, and in‘seven months’ time
have been given a corporalship. IT would like
very much to go to some private military
academy, as there is no chance for me at West
Point.”
You are evidently industrious to say the
least, and will no doubt get along in this
world. You have a fine physique and no
doubt a good constitution, and therefore,
are well adapted for active employment in
the open air, such as civil engineer or
surveyor. There is not any real financial
object to be gained by attending a mili-
tary academy even though you should
graduate with the highest military honors,
as you would not be able to enter the army
NEWS.
or navy except as anordinary. If you
| think seriously of going to college, apply
Polytechnical Institute at
Ind., for prospectus, and
Rose
Haute,
to the
Terre
| select a course of study that will lead to
a good out-door profession, If you cannot
attend college try and secure employment
| in the office of a civil engineer or surveyor
where you will be able to secure a sound,
practical education and receive a salary
at the same time.
W. W. W., Hoboken, N. Y., writes: “I am 16
years old, have had common school and business
education, but do not like the commercial busi-
ness. [ take great interestin electricity and
chemistry. Which do you think the most lucra-
tive and safest, and the least time required for
the study of each ?”’
If you are not adapted to commercial
business or more properly speaking office
work, it would be better to learn a pro-
fession, but under no circumstances give
up your present employment until you are
sure of making a living at something
else. Electricity and chemistry can be
studied at night. Opportunities would be
afforded you to study chemistry at the
New York College of Pharmacy in the
evening, and graduating therefrom, you
would be able to command a salary of
from eighteen to twenty-five dollars a
week. Regarding the study of electricity
it would be well to send for the prospectus
of the Stevens Institute of Technology,
Hoboken, N. J., and read what they have
to say concerning the particular course of
electrical study. In our “Short Talks,”
in No. 70 Goop News, there was an inter-
esting article on electricity which may
interest you.
H. F. F., Cincinnati, Ohio, writes: “Would
you please give me some information in behalf
of telegraphing, about price, length of time in
learning, and age to begin? Would you also
tell me of some good school where it is taught
in this city?) Iam 16 years of age, and have had
a good schoolng; also am willing to learn.”
There is no particular age when to be-
gin learning telegraphy. If you have re-
ceived sufticient education to begin life’s
battle, then you are at the age to start in
and learn any profession or trade. Full
particulars regarding telegraphy were fully
explained in No. 80 Goop News. We do
not know of any school in Cincinnati that
teaches telegraphy, but would suppose
that it was taught in every business col-
lege. Living in Cincinnati, you ave ina
much better position to inquire than we
are.
LAURA A., New York, writes: “Your paper
has sucha strong footing in our family that
we look forward to its arrival every Saturday
with pleasure. Itis read nof only by the young
folks, but by the older members of the family
as well. My brother takes great interest in
your “Short Talks with the Boys,” and think-
ing you might answera question relating to
girls, I write you. What cana girl do at home
to earn a little pin money after school hours? I
am handy with the needle, and prefer it to
housework.”
It is a pleasure to hear from our girl
readers, especially when they ask us to
suggest some work for them. It shows a
true womanly spirit to be industrious, and
you should be complimented for desiring
to find work to do in your idle hours. In
answering your question, “What can a
girl do?” lace-making offers a partial ans-
wer. It is not a trade in which many can"
earn a safe and sure living, but it is an
art that offers to girls who are quick to
learn and ready with their needles, a field
in which they may help out their incomes
at odd hours at home, or by which they
can save money by making the laces they
may not be able to buy for themselves.
How to save money is quite as important
as how to earn it, and. lace-making may
rove of use to many readers of Goop
NeEws, and, in the hope that it will, the
idea is here offered. Certainly, it is a
beautiful art, and if a girl never earned
anything at it, and only made the lace
for her own gratification, she will surely
find it a pleasant and interesting work.
For a long time lace was wholly made
by hand. Then came the introduction of
machinery, and the art of lace-making
was turned into a trade. At first, this
was a serious loss to the lace-makers, as
it took away their employment. How-
ever, this was not so bad as it seemed,
for many more people found work in the
factories, because much more lace was
sold, When all the lace was made by hand,
only the rich could buy it. Now lace is
cheap enough, and nearly every house has
its lace curtains, and every girl may wear
a bit of lace around her throat.
Until within a very short time ago peo-
ple were generally content to buy and use
machine-made lace, and only a very few
rich people owned hand made Jace. There
were very few girls who knew how to
make it, and even they found it difficult
to sell their work. Now all this is
changing. People have found out that
machine-work lace is all alike, and a
hundred ladies may buy exactly the same
pattern. This.is precisely what they do
not like. Hvery woman, and man too for
that matter, naturally wants to have
something different from any one else.
She is willing to pay a higher price for a
set of laces, if she is sure that there are
fe hana ee ee
no more. or only afew more of that kinds ~
Thus it happens that just nuw there 15 @
revival of the demand for hand-made lace,
and the old art of lace-making is coms
up again. The people who teach the arv
of lace-making in New York report that
there are a good many girls asking how
they may learn, and the sale of patterns —
and materials for making lace has >
created largely.
Private teachers charge fifty cents 3
lesson, but there are places in New York
where you might learn free of charge
you purchase outfit from them.
The Great Wonders Around Us.
BY PROFESSOR RUDOLPH.
NUMBER TWENTY-FOUR.
Wonders of Vegetation.
(HERE are few objects in the natural —
th? world more deserving of our Caret®=
5 ), study than the
es TREES OF THE FOREST.
We shall not now go into an elaborate —
description of them, but simply call a
tention to some most interesting feature
too often escaping notice. Let us not art
the circulation of the sap. This may S®
trivial, but let us see whether t a
not here a great marvel. And in the isa
place the existence of the sap itse fig? 4,
great mystery. : ie
That there should be flowing thro ey
out every part of the tree—root, j
branch, twig, leaf, and fiber, a thi :
sustaining very much the same rela
to a tree that the blood does to our rise
and that this fluid should regularly ”
to the loftiest branches, and he
regularly descend to the lowest ae
carrying life, and health, am is iso
triment to all the parts; surely this
marvel. But when we remember the 8h.
height and thickness of many trees, Ke
wonder is greatly increased. Thus, ome
the great trees of California, rising dred
instances, to the height of four buvaing
feet, and having a diameter—indier é
the bark—of forty feet; what an i]lus? 4
tion is here of the wonderful force ict
in action ina tree. But—more Pale,
larly, and to make this more impress tself
the water in a pump never rises 0 d w-
more than thirty-one or two feet, anannot
less artificial force be applied, ib a
be gotten any higher. But here W Ving
fluid, called sap, rising to the am goine ‘
height of four Hundred feet, ant «forty
this too through all that thicknes$ 9 4
feet. Not a place as large as @©
pin head, through all that iameter
this fluid does not pass through.
is not all. Botanists tell us of 4
palm tree that towers fully fiv
feet toward the clouds, and thre
these five hundred feet, from 4
root to the topmost leaf, this MY*)
sap is ever in motion, either asce™ art
descending and vivifying every vgn
that grand structure. : q Not
Whence the source of this aoe the
wholly from the earth, throur. sont
agency of the roots alone, bul. h absor?
the air through the leaves a the 4
or drink in the moisture ever nd from
mosphere, even when dryest, on th
these it is disseminatee throug
tire tree. But the leaves a
function, or office; they abso! id
atmosphere the carbonic ea ese
found in it, and by a wonderfu se acid
carried on in the tree, this carbon!” “ood
is changed into the woody fibers, of hese
which constitutes the great mas eLMte
great wonders of vegetation. — od of the
Hence it is seen that the wa as cou
tree is not derived from the 80%
monly supposed, but almost eD artis
the air. ff obtained from. thes unde
we should expect to find directlY
tree a considerable depressions ;
in the case of those huge bdo: = + ai
tures in California of forty os {1 Woh |
and four hundred feet in heig of a
there is such a vast quantity e alway 7
But instead of a depression, naer t
find an elevation of surface 4 er
great giants of the forests.
This proves conclusively,
no other evidence, that the!
trees and plants comes chile
atmosphere. But Fs
wood?
HOW IS AIR GHANGED INTO id
ic
We have just said that carbonn
the air is the chief source O11,
fiber of atree. But whats oa
is asked, Briefly it is comp ief su
and oxygen. Carbon is the¢ n many on
of all coal, but is also foun re
substances. Indeed, there *
tively few in which it is 2° .
the atmsophere, it exists in
tity, and in a gaseous form. pow
of the tree have the peculiar
sorbing, or drinking in thie a ip
of the air, and they also eh the of
pich
‘th
ygen and nitrogen of
phere is composed, In the
free these and other substances, obtained
pew quantities from the soil, all
. oo re the aon and ee of
ring palm, the graceful willow,
thu the wide-branching oak. If you fur-
ean ask, “How they thus unite?” We
eee answer, it is by the operation of
‘Man - Principles so subtie, that weak
‘Mortal hever comprehend them in this
bet life. And is there not a rebuke
to« Othat self-sufficiency that assumes
nderstand all mysteries,” and obsti-
its Heese tees to accept as truth whatever
Hera .2.2£280n cannot comprehend? See.
all Sai forests that have been growing
Yer ee us for at least six thousand
tel] hg the man has not yet arisen to
om how this transformation of the
1 We D into the solid is brought about.
} the ,20W it is done, but how it is done
tan »brofoundest philosopher of to-day
‘its More tell than the wailing infant
Tt other's arms.
Would ms to me that a sensible man
Tot expjaclude from this, that as he can-
Plain a physical fact that is hourly
‘Place under his very eyes, so there
the Spiritual truths as true, as real,
‘Yond Row eh of a tree, which are also
A ts the present comprehension. If he
x big the One, though beyond the power
*nsistentie to explain, surely, he cannot
The Y reject the other.
ay there eat lesson of this article is, that
"turay yi, Confessedly, so much in the
i World’ that we cannot at all un-
* So there must be, necessarily,
; the spiritual world that is also
We aond our power to comprehend.
laty ae read aright the volume of
"and al] rg We to expect to fully under-
n the volume of Revelation?
——————>- ee
‘Story
Ory Will Not he Published in Book-Form. |
>
MD THROUGH NORWAY:
’
OMILLION DOLLARS MISSING.
-~+-
rr By JAMES OTIS,
Hn the Slope,” “Teddy's Venture,” “In the
Talana ps The Golden Cross,” ‘*Through the
¥ Wssage.” “The Treasure Seekers,” ete.
ree
TAP ee? -
Back MROvGH Norway”
; ” was commenced inNo.
Can be obtained ofall NewsAgents).
pilin adeno
CHAPTER XI.
HAUSE Frank was the oldest,
> hig be, Was accustomed to consider
the proener 8 decision as final, and
n et ents epee es no exception.
ni hat they must start,
tenateat stead of attempting to discuss
ight best hy began to question how
Y Were ye accomplished.
but 7,20 longer in light marching
m more baggage than the
it it as without assistance, and
ae be possible for them to
. Observed, this collection of
ndles would, on being car-
he hotel, assuredly attract
they) he detectives.
follow. ante everything, or insure
bY som, by having the goods re-
Was ¢) © public conveyance?
hile bef vestion asked, and it was
W it sh Ore the boys could decide
ao are
iy, Ould be answered.
rey fon’ . to go in a boat, as father
Nee the satus pose there would be room
certai, Frank finally said; “but
mg then,
things we ought to take,
; . are some of father’s, so
hetdfortar reese as much as we can
t
maou t € guns?”
on heeded very badly. We
ns and only about twenty
No sli MMition for each.”
ght task to make the selec-
t it Properly, therefore the
at once, with such good
© end of an hour they had
Useful articles in ‘their
© guns suspended from
Pmight be slung over the
W hic:
legran ee time they should start
5 the a ce, for the boys pre-
mg of Moc ctectives should not get
ik Went if it could be avoided,
7 down stairs to pay the
ho
iy lett the neon Watching him eager-
a] a
™ for ee had sufficient’ money
¥ hat th 1S purpose, and after ar-
aul the remah
2, cared for until the party
a or it to be forwarded,
where his brother was
o patiently.
el ow. ct he said, abruptly,
S still standing guard.
9 Walk boldly out and |
ave settled our bill,
; Value of a dollar left.”
We had better let Mr.
ider of their bag- |
GooDnD
Moen come here rather than advertise so
plainly that we are going to join father,”
Harry said, as he stood irresolutely in
front of the goods they were to carry.
“T think that would be even worse than
what we intend doing. The detectives
wouldn’t hesitate to ask questions, and
there isa bare possibility they may not
see him if we go to the office.”
Harry made no reply; but, slinging the
gun over his shoulder, and taking up his
satchel, signified that he was ready to
make the start.
“Don’t pay any attention to the meh,
unless they should attempt to prevent us
from going,” Frank said, as he seized his
own baggage and opened the door.
Without looking in his direction, both
knew Thompson was watching them curi-
ously, and that when they reached the
head of the stairs he followed with an
assumption of carelessness.
On reaching the lower floor, Richards,
who had been lounging in the doorway,
came toward them with what he evi-
dently intended should be a friendly air,
and asked :
“Are you goin’ to leave us so soon?”
“We are intending to take a short trip,”
Frank replied, as he literally pushed the
man aside and passed on, observing as
he reached the door, that the detectives
were talking together very earnestly, as
if trying to decide what should be done.
“T wonder if it is possible they can stop
us on the charge of having helped father
to escape?” Harry whispered, when they
were in the street.
“Of cousre not. They have no right to
touch him until after getting the proper
warrant, therefore nobody aig escaped
from them.”
The boys walked as rapidly as possible
until arriving at the telegraph-office, and
on entering, Frank turned in such a man-
ner that he could have a view of the
street. :
Thompson was about twenty yards be-
hind; but Richards could not be seen.
“One of them has stopped to settle the
bill, while the other keeps us in sight,”
he said. “At this rate their money will
soon be exhausted unless they brought an
unusually large supply.”
“It has already held out too long to
please me,” Harry replied, as he knocked
on the door of Mr. Moen’s office, and be-
fore Frank could say anything more a
cheery voice cried:
“Come in.”
“You are in good season, and ready for
the journey, I see,” the gentleman said,
as they entered. “All the arrangements
have been made. Siva and Geikie, two
honest Norwegians Whom I can vouch for,
will take you to Talvik, or any other
place you wish to go. Ihave settled with
them as to the terms, therefore you will
have no financial cares in the matter.
How much is the bill at the hotel?”
“T have attended to that already, and
left a lotof baggage in the landlord’s
care.”
“Very well. Here is sufficient money
to pay all the necessary expenses of your
trip, which should not be much, since the
boat is provisioned for a long cruise.”
Frank took, without counting, it the
handful of silver which Mr. Moen handed
him, and then asked:
“How long a trip is it that we are
to make?”
“You should reach there in three or four
days, if the wind holds good, and I count on
your arriving quite as soon as your father,
since his craft is much more heavily laden
than yours will be.”
“Are we to go in a sailing-vessel?”
Harry asked in dismay.
“Even worse than that. Siva’s ship is
nothing more than a small boat, with a
cabin only large enough for three; but
you will not suffer any very great dis-
comforts, because I have instructed them
not to call upon you for any assistance
except in case of the greatest necessity.”
“When are we to start?”
“Immediately, unless you object. Every-
thing is ready, and you should take ad-
vantage of this wind. Will you pardon
me if I do not go to the shore with you?
| I have some important business to attend
to within the next hour; but will send a
boy as guide. He can't speak English;
but that does not matter, since it is only
to point out the way that he goes.”
“Shan’t we be able to talk with
boatmen?”
“Oh, yes. They have acted as guides
for English sportsmen many years, and
speak quite as well as myself.”
It pleased the boys that Mr, Moen was
too busy to accompany them, for it would
prevent Messrs. Thompson and Richards,
who were doubtless in the immediate
vicinity, from seeing him, and nothing
could be learned from the boy who was
acquainted only with his native tongue.
“The voyage will not be dangerous,”
the gentleman said, as he shook hands
with Frank and Harry in parting; “but
there may be some rough weather. Do
not be frightened, for the boatmen are
cautious and experienced.”
“That part of it don’t worry us,” Frank
the
| boys were bound,
replied, wishing the real cause for anx
iety could be dispelled as readily.
When the two emerged from the build-
ing preceded by the small boy, both the
detectives were standing near the door-
way; but made no attempt to enter into
conversation.
Neither Frank not Harry so much as}
looked at the men; but followed the small
guide at a rapid pace, the former saying,
as they hurried along:
“It seems that we have hired the ex-
élusive use of the boat; ana I'll guarah-
tee that they don’to comé on board.”
“Tt won’t be difficult for them to find
otit where we have gone.”
“That is true; but they'll have to hint |
up another craft, and in a three or four |
days’ voyage it'll go hard if we don't |
give them the slip.”
The boat was ready to sail when the |
boys reached her mooring-place, about a |
mile down the beach to the south of the |
town, and the guide, after saying a few
words in the Norwegian tongue, which
was probably intended as an introduction,
hurried back to the office.
“We are prepared to sail when you|
please,” the elder of the two men, whom |
the boys afterward learned was Siva, |
said, “and it would be well if we did not
delay too long, for the wind is fair.”
“Start at once,” Frank said, as he fol- |
lowed his brother over the rail, and he}
added, in an undertone, on glancing back |
and seeing the detectives coming at a}
rapid pace, “you can’t leave here any too
soon to please us.”
Although the boatmen were in a hurry |
to begin the voyage, they did not know |
of any particular reason why there should
be undue haste, and the consequence was |
that Thompson and Richards arrived at |
the beach before the little craft was under |
way. She had been pulled out into deeper
| water; but there were many things yet
|lremaining to be done before the canvas
| could be hoisted.
“Hello on board!” Thompson shouted,
and Siva answered :
“Hello!”
“Where are you bound?”
“To the South.”
“For what port?”
“Do not tell him,” Frank said, hur-
riedly, and in alow tone, “We particu-
larly wish to get rid of those men,”
“lor what port?” Thompson repeated,
after waiting a few seconds for a reply.
“Wherever the hunting is good,” Siva
said, without hesitation,
“Will you take a couple of passengers?”
“Tt is impossible; our boat will not
carry many.”
“We'll pay more than a fair price.”
“Tt cannot be done,” Geikie replied, im-
patiently, as he unloosened the canvas.
During this time neither Frank nor
Harry had paid any attention to the men
on the beach; but now they were forced
to do so, for Richards shouted:
“You boys shall suffeer for this day’s
work if you live to get back to the States!
I’)l have satisfaction for this trick, and
what’s more, we propose to follow, even
though you won't allow us on board that
craft.”
“You are at liberty to do as you please;
it is no concern of ours,” Frank shouted,
and then the little sloop began to draw
away from the land as her canvas was
spread.
“They’ll have a good time trying to get
another boat around here,” Harry cried,
gleefully; but Siva checked his mirth by
saying:
“There are many to be hired if the gen-
tlemen go back to the town, and they will
have no trouble in finding out where we
have gone, for I did not think it neces-
sary to keep secret the fact that we were
bound for Talvik.”
—__
CHAPTER XII.
A STERN
CHASE.
S a matter of course, every fellow
’ knows that Hammerfest ‘is situ-
\s ated on Kyalo Island, not far from
the most northerly point of land
in Norway.
Talvik, the settlement to which the
is nearly south from
Hammerfest, the islands on the coast
causing the waterway to seem like an
inland one.
Although this portion of Norway is
washed by the Arctic ocean where one
naturally expects to find unusually cold
weather, the climate was as sultry in the
month of July as may be found at the
leastern extremity of the United States,
and the traveler shelters himself from the
sun rather than the frost.
The craft on which Frank and Harry
believed they should live not more than
four days at the longest, had been built
for sea-going qualities rather than com-
fort, and what Mr. Moen spoke of asa
small cabin was little more than a box
at the stern through the top of which the
water found its way without difficulty.
The tiny vessel rejoiced in the high-
sounding name of Olaf, after that king,
as Siva afterward told the boys, who is
known in history as “The Holy.” She
was about forty feetin length, nearly half
as. broad as she was long, with a regular
“butter-ball” bow, and literally.churned
her way along, throwing quite as much
water over the short deck forward as she
took in through the illy-caulked seams.
Yet despite these apparent imperfec-
tions, the old craft ma de very good head-
way under the influence of the fresh
breeze, and in less than half an hour the
point from which she had started was
lost to view in the distance.
The last the boys had seen of the de-
tectives was as the two went along the
| shore toward the town, and there was no
question in the minds of either but that
the men were in search of a boat in which
to continue the chase.
Siva declared that there were very
many craft to be hired; but he added,
proudly that none would be found which
could outsail the Olaf, to say nothing of
the fact that as good guides as he and
Geikie did not live on the island.
For the time being the boys were satis-
fied with the fact that the detectives had
been left behind, and gave themselves up
to a prolonged survey of the scenery.
For the first time they saw eider-ducks,
from which the most valuable down is
taken, and to their surprise learned that
these birds are protected by stringent
laws on the Norwegian coast. They are
considered the absolute property of those
on whose land they build their nest, and
he counts them as a portion of his wealth.
The male is black and white, while the
female is a dirty brown, and a trifle
smaller than our domestic ducks. | In
making her nest, the female plucks the
down from her breast with which to line
it, and this the ownerof the ground takes
away. Twice more she repeats this oper-
ation, and uot until then is she allowed
to remain’ unmolested. After the brood
has been hatched the fourth harvest is
gathered; but this last is very much less
valuable than the succeeding ones, owing
to the fact of its being decidedly soiled.
These birds, which yield feathers worth
four dollars per pound, are, owing to the
protection given them by the Norwegians,
very tame, and would hardly take the
trouble to move out of the Olaf’s course
as that clumsy craft stormed down the
sound like an inverted water-cart.
Harry was very anxious to shoot one,
in order to carry home the skin as a
trophy ; but Siva peremptorily forbade any
such sport, stating that his boat would
be seized by the owner of the bird in case
it was known it had been killed from her
decks, therefore the boys were forced to
forego the questionable pleasure.
It was in this channel] that the young
travelers also saw what at first glance
appeared to be fish-bearing rocks.
The small islands were hardly more
than ledges, and nearly every one of them
was covered with fish, either spread out
to dry, or piled up in small stacks ready
for removal.
That so much property should be left
exposed where the first craft which passed
by could have it loaded into her hold with
but little fear of detection, seemed strange
to the boys; but Siva assured them that
he had never known of any being taken.
“In Norway the men are honest,” he
said, proudly, as if that settled the mat-
ter beyond a question.
After having been out two hours both
boys began to feel as if something in
the way of dinner would not be amiss,
and suggested the same to Geikie, who
was sitting amidships, smoking, while
Siva steered.
Flat-bread, smoked fish, and tea were
soon set out on the roof of the alleged
eabin, and, Siva eating while he held
the tiller, all four made a hearty if not
perfectly satisfactory meal.
Toward the close of what would have
been the day had the sun set, the wind
began to decrease, and by six o'clock the
Olaf was not making more than two miles
an hour, although there was quite as
much churning and pounding of the water
as when her speed had been four times as
great,
~“We shall have more wind than we
want in twelve hours,” Siva said, as he
gazed anxiously at the gathering clouds,
“and it will be well if we make a harbor
before then,”
“Don’t stop unless it should be abso-
lutely necessary,” Frank replied, quickly.
“Those men we left on the shore may fol-
low, and we would feel very sad to have
thm overtake us.”
“When the Olaf is anchored there will
be no other boat that can run,” the helms-
man said, quite sharply, as if he fancied
the boys had indirectly accused him of
being timid.
“T am certain of that; but I wanted you
to know how we felt about meeting those
fellows again.”
“T will sail the Olaf at her full speed;
but there are other boats which can do
nearly as well, and I cannot say we shail
=~ ahead.”
“Of course not; we don’t expect any-
thing of the kind,” Frank said, with as-
sumed cheerfulness, and then he whis-
1356
pered to Harry, “I am certain Siva knows
of a good many boats that can overhaul
him, so he is preparing us for what may
happen.”
“Do you think the detectives will take
the trouble to chase us?”
“I’m positive of it. They have good
reason to believe we are going to juin
father, and by keeping us in sight will
be able to tind bim.” ;
After this there was a long time of
silence, during which Siva steered, Gei-
kie sinoked vigorously, and the boys
thought only of the trouble which the
future might have in stcrez for them.
The wind continued to decrease, and
the Olaf was barely moving through the
water in a sluggish fashion, when the
helmsman said, in a matter-of-fact tone:
“The strangers are coming. ‘There is
more wind astern than we are feeling
here; but their boat willsoon be becalmed
as is ours.”
“Where are they?” and Frank
Harry arose to their feet suddenly.
“There,” and Siva pointed toa tiny
speck on the water.
“How can you tel! who they are, when
it is impossible as yet even to distinguish
the form of the boat?”
“Fishermen do not come this way. No
one but ourselves and them are likely to
be around here.”
“Can't we put into some harbor?”
“Why should we do so in a calm?”
“They might run past us without see-
ng us.”
their boat cannot sail when there is
no wind, and now that it is the light
season, we can be keptin sight all the
time until we reach the sluices.”
“ Where are they?”
“Two days’ sail from here.”
“Theré’s no help for it, and its useless
to say anything more to him,” Harry
whispered. “He'll begin to suspect
something very near the truth if we talk
too much,”
Frank replied to this suggestion by
seating himself where he could keep the
approaching craft in sight, and the Olaf
moved lazily through the water until the
wind died away entirely.
Then the boatmen Couan to prepare
what they doubtless intended should be
an elaborate supper; but the pursuers
continued to advance.
“They seem to find breeze enough,”
Harry said, after a long pause.
“It is the last few puffs, and may bring
them near us before leaving as our end of
it did,” Siva replied.
“Then we can count on having com-
pany during the remainder of this cruise.”
“In twelve hours there will be so much
wind that two vessels as large as these
will not want to stay very near each
other,” and Siva turned his attention
once more to the culinary operations.
When half an hour had passed the lines
of the second craft could be seen quite
distinctly, and then the boys understood
why she continued to overhaut them.
She was built on a model quite the oppo-
site of the Olaf’s. Instead of being broad of
beam, she was sharp, and sat low on the
water with a large amount of canvas
spread. Just such a craft as would creep
along with no more wind than might be
caused by “the whistling of the man at
the helm.”
“It is the Gyda,” Geikie said, as he
brought aft the boiled fish and potatoes
which had been cooked on atiny stove
forward.
“She is fast in a light wind; but the
Olaff can sail around her ina storm,”
Siva added, in an explanatory tone to his
passengers.
“Then I hope your heavy wind will
come,” Frank replied, with a faint smile.
ere can be no doubt. Now we will
eat.”
The boys had but little appetite now
their enemies were so near; but the two
Norwegians made up for their failing in
that respect. It seemed asif they liter-
ally gorged themselves, and the supply
of fish, which had seemed to the boys
sufficient for a dozen, was reduced to
ones.
When the meal was concluded, Harry
made a very disagreeable discovery.
“It looks as if we were drifting toward
the north,” he exclaimed, after hanging
over the rail a few moments.
“It is the current,” Siva said, care-
lessly.
“We are going toward the other boat
abont as fast as they are coming in this
direction.”
“Yon are right.
and
We shall be alongside
before the wind springs up again.”
Well, that’s a cheerful prospect,”
Harry muttered. “To have so much the
start. and then lose all our advantage, is
mighty provoking.”
“Tt seems as if everything worked
against us. At the very time when we
think matters are going smoothly, some-
» thing turns up to show us our mistake,”
and Frank threw himself face downward
on the deck as he tried in vain to decide
upon some plan for escaping the disagree-
able followers.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
GooD
THE
LADY FROM OVER THE WAY.
A CHRISTMAS STORY.
ccna emanates
BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
ROM the win-
dow of'a large
but rusty look-
ing house on
one of the avenues,
two children looked
down at the throng
below, as they had
\# been iboKingrall day.
They were in the
fourth story of the
house, and they could
» not see into the street
very distinctly, but still
the movement and the
bustle interested them, and
c mother was thankful
w that they had it to watch.
It was tive o’clock on Christ-
mas eve—that twilight which
always seemed so early, since nobody is
ever quite ready for it. The pale gray of
the winter's sky was scarcely flushed by
the low-lying sunset clouds, though some-
times you could catch a gleam of their
scant brightness as you turned westward.
The streets of New York were crowded,
as usual, but everybody seemed even more
than usually in a hurry. The air was
intensely cold, and nipped the noses of
those who were late with their Christmas
shopping; but, in spite of it, men and
women still jostled each other upon the
sidewalk, or stopped to lock at the tempt-
ing displays of holiday goods in the
shops. Everybody, it seemed, had some
small person at home who must be made
happy to day.
The mother was sewing, catching the
last glint of the sunset light for her work,
as she had the first ray of the dawning.
She had been a _ beautiful, high-bred
woman; indeed, she was so still, though
there was no one to note the unconscious
elegance of her gestures or the graceful
lines of her curving figure and bent head.
She was very thin now and a oorly
clad, but a stranger would have felt that
she was a lady, and wondered how she
came in the fourth story of this house,
a great house, which had been handsome,
too, in its day, but which was now let
out to innumerable lodgers, mostly of the
decent sort of honest, hard-working, half-
starved poor people. Not with such
neighbors had Mrs, Vanderheyden’s lot
been formerly cast, nor for such uses as
this had the old house itself been de-
signed. It had been a stately mansion in
its time, belonging to the estate of a good
old Knickerbocker family, which was
quite run out now. But there was one
great comfort in this house—it had been
so well built that its thick walls shut out
all noises effectually, and made solitude
ossible even in a tenement-house. Per-
naps Mrs. Vanderheyden had thought of
this when she chose her abode there,
There was something in the faded
grandeur of the old mansion that harmo-
nized with the lingering grace of her own
faded beauty. Its lofty walls were wain-
scoted with carved oak, almost black with
time now; and any imaginative person
wouid have heen likely to people it with
the ghosts of the beautiful girls, whose
room no doubt this was in the old days.
There, between those windows, hung, per-
haps, their great mirror, and into it
they looked, all smiles, and blushes, and
beauty, when they were ready for their
first ball. But Mrs. Vanderheyden's two
little girls did not think of the other
be who might have lived there once.
‘hey were too young for that, and too
hungry. Ethel, the elder, was only ten;
and shy little Susie, beside her, scarcely
seven. They saw a sight, however, from
the window at which they stood, that
interested them more than any vision of
the past would have done.
The avenue on which they lived was in
atransition state. Trade had come into
it; and lodging-houses had vulgarized it,
and yet there were some of the rich, old
residents who still clung to the houses in
which their fathers and mothers had
lived and died. There was one such di-
rectly opposite; and to_look into the par-
lor over the way, and see there all the
warmth, and brightness, and beauty of
which they themselves were deprived,
had been one of the chief enjoyments of
the little Vanderheydens ever since they
had been in the house. ot were all
that Mrs. Vanderheyden had left—these
two girls. Wealth was gone, friends
were gone, father and father’s home, hus-
band and husband's home—hope itself
was gone; but she was not quite alone
while she had these two for whom to
strugcle—to live or to die, as Heaven
would. It was for their sakes that she
i
|
NEw s.
had worked from dawning to nightfall,
though she haa felt all the time what
seemed to her a mortal sickness stealing
over her, Their breakfast and dinner had
been only bread, of which she herself had
scarcely tasted; but to-morrow would be
Christmas, and it should go hard with
her but she would give them better fare
then. A dozen times during the day one
or the other little voice had asked, anx-
iously:
“Shall we surely, surely have dinner
to morrow, because it is Christmas day?”
And she had answered:
“Please Heaven, you surely shall. My
work is almost done,” and then she had
stitched away more resolutely than ever
on the frock she was elaborately embroid-
ering. The children meanwhile were
feeding upon hope, and watching a scene
in the house over the way, where, as they
thought, all that any human creature
could possibly hope for had already been
given. Busy preparations had been made
in that other house for Christmas. There
was a great Christmas tree in one corner,
all full of little tapers, and a large, fair,
gentle-looking woman had been engaged
much of the afternoon in arranging gifts
upon it. Now, with the twilight, a boy
and girl had come in and were watching
the lighting up of the Christmas tree.
“It’s so good of them not to pull the
curtains down,” Ethel said, with a sigh
of delight. “It’s almost as good as being
there—aimost.”
“I do suppose that’s the very grandest
house in all New York,” little Susie said,
in a tone of awe and admiration.
“Nonsense, you only think that because
you are so little,” answered Ethel, from
the height of her three years more of ex-
erience. “You forget, but I can remem-
er. We had a finer house ourselves before
poor papa died. There are plenty of
them; only we're so poor we don’t see
them.”
“Oh, it’s good to be that little girl,”
cried Susie. “See how pretty her dress
is, and how her hair curls; and she’ll
have lots of presents off that Christmas
tree.”
“So should we, if we had papa,” Ethel
answered, gravely. “Mamma, when we
get up to Heaven, do you think papa will
know we're his little girls?”
“I’m sure he will,” Mrs. Vanderheyden
answered; and then she rose wearily.
“Tt’s all done,” she said, as she shook out
the lovely little robe into which she had
wrought so many patient stitches. “I
cannot carry it home just yet, I am so
tired; I must lie down first; but you
shall have a. good dinner to-morrow, my
darlings.”
The children had seen her very tired
before, and they did not think much
about it when she groped her way toa
bed in the corner weit lay down, drawing
the scant bed-clothes up over her. They
stood at the window still and watched
the merry children opposite, until at last
a servant came and pulled down the cur-
tains, and shut away from them the
thristmas_ tree, with all its gleaming
lights, and the boy and girl who were
dancing about it to some gay tuue which
their mother played.
Then Ethel and Susie began to realize
that they were cold and hungry, and the
room was dark. Ethel lit a candle. The
fire was nearly out, but she would not
make another till morning.
“T won't wake up mamma,” she said,
with the premature thoughtfulness that
characterized her. “She'’ssotired. We'll
just have supper, and then I'll hear you
say ‘Our Father,’ and we'll get to bed,
and in the morning it will be Christmas.”
Some vague promise of good was in the
very word; Ethel did not know what
would come, but surely Christmas would
not be like other days. “Supper” was
the rest of the bread. And then the two
little creatures knelt down together and
said their well-known prayers, and
think “Our Father” heard, for their sleep
was just as sweet as if they had been in
the warm, soft nest of the children over
the way, tucked in with eider down.
Through the long evening hours they
slept—through the solemn midnight, when
the clear, cold Christmas stars looked
down, just as they had looked centuries
ago when the King of Glory, Himself
a little child, lay asleep in an hum-
ble manger in Judea. Nothing troubled
their quiet slumber until the sunshine of
the Christmas morning broke through
their dingy windows, and the day had
begun.
“It must be ever so late,” said Ethel,
rubbing her sleepy eyes, “and mamma
isn’t awake yet. But she was so tired.
You lie still, Susie, and 1’ll build the
fire. and when she wakes up she’ll find
it all done.”
Very patiently the poor, little half-
frozen fingers struggled with the scant
kindlings and the coal that seemed deter-
mined never to light—but they succeeded
aat last, and the room began to grow a
a little warm. Then she dressed Susie,
and then it began to seem very late. in-
deed, and she wondered if mamma would
never wake up, She went to the bedside,
and bending over, kissed her mother
tly, then started back with a 80
alarm.
“Why, Susie, she’s so cold—almost!
poor papa—only you can’t remember" —
before they took him away.” aati :
“No, she can’t be like papa,” Susi€ hy
stoutly, “for he was dead, and mamma oa
asleep.”
“Yes, she’s asleep,” said the elder
ter, firmly. “We must wait ti
wakes up. We'll look over the Way,
then, maybe, it won’t seem so long: thao
But over the way was brighter”
ever this Christmas morning. The
tains had been looped back once m@
the table glittered with lovely gilts"),
presently the little girl who live@™
came to the windows. She looked ®
them—they were sure of it; t
could not have guessed
as es turned away, and spo
mother:
“Oh, mamma,” cried the sweeb a
voice, “won’t you come and S€® fig
two poor, little girls? They stood
all day yesterday and last nights
now see how sad they lovk. 1 cam
my Christmas candies, or play with"
Christmas things while they look 80
and lonesome. Won't you go Ov@! ~
see them, mamma dear?’ f wart
Mrs. Rosenburgh was a woman OF Toy
and earnest sympathies when OBS) he
were aroused. When she wase
too had had quick impulses lh’
child’s; but she had grown § be ob!
haps, as she grew older, or mire a
careless, for the quick sympathi , bet
there still, as you could see DOW %
little girl had touched them. ered;
“To be surel will,” she anew
once. “Poor little things! “a
could make merry Christmas fore
York; but since we can’t, at lf
won't have faces white with W
ing in at our verv windows.’ ¢
o the watching, wondering ii
saw the large, fair lady wrap i.
a heavy shawl, and tie a hood
head, and then come ont aD nee ae
street, and enter their house. pat if !
“What if she saw us: and W athies
is coming here?” Ethel said, bre e
Then they listened as if theard
were in their ears. They nt
upon the stairs, and then @ 86M),
and the lady from over the wa)
their room. ”
“I saw you at the windows
“and came over to wish y
Christmas. How is this?
alone?”
“No, ma’am, mamma 4
bere; db she “— <7 tire
and she hasn’t waked up. ae
An awful terror seized Mot
burgh. Had this woman 4 er wind i
and weariness, in sight of BD av
She stepped to the bedside ne
away the clothes gently from ome
the sleeper. She looked he gre™
ar ing face, and then § at
as death.
“Children,” she asked, “7
names?” » the
“I am Ethel Vanderheydetp
girl answered, “and she is e bth
“And your mother—was 84° —
lisle once?”
“Yes, ma’am, before she
martit
“And your little sister is oar a's
“Yes: she was named fo
friend, one she hadn't seen 10
Meanwhile Mrs. RoseD
uu
by the bedside, She had ute are
lying head upon her arm. per?
bottle of pungent salts gee neart oy
and she was crying as if yoked
eae while the children i
inglv on. 1,
“Oh, Ethel, my own BEM cok
And tl en she dropped nenites cor
with tears, against the he
that was so still. a orf a
Oh, was it the warm a ou t
that sounded from far 4™). (hal
past, or only the strong ing, Nee
the poor soul from the nett
of exhaustion that had oe
sleep of death? I do PY,
know the eyes did ope? <,
tender face bending ad tl
then, like a little eh:
heard their mother oT ‘eke
“Oh, Susie, — a rant
ing all this time?” ana” ne
Gna then there were pe einer
the story of the long: e
Brvant and _— C pest
ether was told. s
the children thought, x
from over the way ei
her and told them, brother
there should be thei? “iy, in
and they should live a agnor :
for she, who had — jet ? aa qi
friend, waste never ™ a pts rin
with want alone. elim
Aa so the children ont por @
ner, and a merry; a ung
bright, warm, crims0™ och
had seemed to them red
delights when they ory
from their fourth-8 of
the falling shadows
NEws.
1357
crouched under the slope of the roof below
the scuttle to wait for him.
In a little while, without the slightest
noise, a face appeared over the skylight.
dark corner, had but a
glimpse of it; then a hand reached down
to unfasten from its key the iron arm on
which the raised sash rested. Iu was with
difficulty that Carl resisted an impulse to
seize hold of the hand and make trouble
Carl, from his
for the owner.
‘The iron arm freed, the sash was slowly
and noiselessly lifted and laid back upon |
the roof. ‘Then all
minutes.
beat. Then a head was put
was
the opening. Carl was tempted to make |
a dash at tnat, too, and ha
in with finvers clutching hi
In a little while the h
diawn; afterward a pair of
over tho window-pane,
dangling legs. Arother
silence; then the legs tur
tiously over the pane as
form let itself into the house.
Before the legs touched the landing,
however, Carl rose up, rushed forward,
seized them, and bore them away.
was a brief struggle, duri
intruder tried in vain to
hold upon the frame and
legs ;
hands and arms,
with a crash and thump, p:
lid of the old trunk and partly upon the
floor.
Car] still held the legs in
ging their owner after hi
room in which his lamp was left. But be-
then
then there was a heavy fall; the
wrenched from their
support, while Carl tugged at the legs,
and let the head and whole body drop
still for a few
Carl could hear his own heart
down through
ul the burgla1
s throat.
ead was with-
feet appeared
a pair of
brief, intense
ned, and cau-
lender human
Their
ng which the
maintain his
get back his
urtly upon the
the air, drag-
m toward the
. GOooD
nee (eee
er ge?" CHRISTMAS. How beautiful, how far off, sparkled
suaden Ps those acany Rapes ay silent ene ia
; ; ; city roof beneath e town seemed no
nost like ee ae ee only asleep, but dead; and only the burn-
ber— ius Si ing eyes of the stars appeared alive.
Christmas, merry Christmas, There was something fascinating in the
asie saids Ringing on the air, sublime solitude of that lonely outlook
vane 8 cor itt isl : into infinite, glittering space. Having
te Riens:a story. ae finished his studies for the night, and
elder $! Of the olden time, partly closed the window, Carl still stood
till she the King of glory, there, remembering that it was Christmas
wal: and And His birth sublime. time and thinking how many childish
me. Augels sing their heavenly lay, heads lay sleeping all about him, dream-
heer thee Pratt they bring the glorious word ing perhaps even then of Santa Claus
b ait? at to us is born this day : aa AN i are ae rf ;
yhe ie wlio is the Christ and Lord coming over those roofs, loaded with pres-
nce mors Glory inthe hichest, glory, ents for good boys and girls!
gilt ad Let the echoes rine again, Then the east brightened, and Carl
ived ther €ver cease the rand old story, waited' to see the moon rise. How
ed up Peuce on ewrth, good will to men. strange and wasted and ghastly it looked,
but i ( —_¢ 9-9 ______ pushing its pale hora up over phi oe
. she 88" . line of roofs, then floating away like the
& el i 2 ‘ $ > ark
yke to ARL ROBSON S CHRISTMAS. ont ose canoe into the dark
‘eet: sound PT LET Carl was watching the moon when he
a bles Author By J. T. TROWBRIDGE. became suddenly aware of an object moy-
stood the “Morton esc iso's Cave,” “Neighbor Jackwood,” |ing between its light and him, something
igbt: a Te Boy.” “Phe Three Scoute’ “he Youn sur. which he tried at first to think a cat, but
can't i Oy “Jack Huzurd S ris," Boys Will be Boys.” which he was specs convinced could be
y wit le @& ee nothing less than a human head and
pok £0 T ha, ‘ shoulder.
over # son eee? fully agreed that Carl Rob-| 1% was on the roof of the third house, in
ym aini] as to voard with his uncle's | the same block creeping slowly over the
an of ri of e Winted own poe a school that ridge ole—a black silhouette shape de-
| one she thn Cough Buda ie ee ta gene. fined for an instant against the mvon.
5 ate per oe enly unsettled every-| Then it menree aflently down the slope,
~ vet” be my Meiiarity _| and disappeared in shadow.
seltish Ty a Uncle RAG South Nad tines pee “It is somebody playing Santa Claus!”
may wee | he 08 in Havana rox Tha ae are that was Carl's first natural thought.
athier pet e Would acca on™ Teso4ved at once that) His curiosity was strongly excited,
ow wa Whowt eins ane Robs however, and he continued’ to watch.
ved, at he8? hea was aati eee pores “hi and Several minutes elapsed, during which
nsyial we thin busband’s awitt tat ae deciding he saw nothing, heard nothing. ‘Ihe
] ye “ .
for # ft, we “ ake the i ”
t yeas ok And ¢ Mm with uns.
‘apt Tako we Servants?”
rare? ing 45° Molly, tuo. You have been want-
ng et ip Change, Bet Tid of the cook; now is your
peer ner ‘Al
hd ae the Sg in a house—with all our nice
cl ut ;
. rif she wast fy Po get somebody to come
wh? seas? | ho Shall be
eaters | Aga Y& worried to death about the
bel beret wind, ca Aunt Robson, despairingly.
peard taps what shall Who was to board with us !—
eptle aio | “Wha gat We do with him? It will be
ger 100 «rf disa
ay st l have -Ppointment to ;he poor boy!’
he eal cual a Ys i)
in tb8 go and eeind. og ela i 5
, yer? :, TM to aie meals at a restaurant. I'll . AP
Mrs. ofan Otc Wigration of the family was a WH
jie #40 mis aun ot disappointment to Carl, into
per ¥ ares ang’ of his 8d predicted. But he had| |A\Zijpgeemre 7
je, 9" face n | May he Cons icle’s decisive turn of mind, ||| LZ eae V
nm bart ot we asehent, “uted at once to the new ar-| |/ Uy HU TaN
me WP | Sele aloe it happene : if Os Hi / ZU
pe gr? of | As pune in ipa ad that he found him- MH ye * ;
at y? ang o 8 a € great house that winter. Wa eer fT 4
what at | Yo . liyj ot boy, with an education Meg) if
+ old What tY fastia; Set, he had, fortunately,| ~esW@ Yy
an,” , we Nan, VOuld tous views of life; and LS Wi
nsie. al tra”? he ,. 8Ve been a hardship to é ;
S th eh ac p
she E yi Cap} ith lec pled with thankfulness,
‘ {nd 1. VAs the,
marie vinttedy, a futon, years old, healthy
sus!” a's Re a f of hope. Had he been
wim | thet | Object, in Ji ;
mam oti it | the |, nego ct in Jife he would have
or a lad Wie by at * empty homesick PaCash in
ure?, the’ 9} Ne is Ouse; there, I fear, but
sifted drat et he e ut, Rove hours would have been
and of porn hed ta Dlewgyith a noble ambition, | figure he concluded, must have got down
‘om eat ode i own t i Satisfaction: quiet life he upon an intervening roof, which was
eT ed @ | Dobra, tUBal reakf even in getting | |ower by a few feet than the roof each
}00 e tt Novy ce and potat asts, and baking his | side of it.
ake ee had yO |, Such proved to have been the case. Carl
the ek, ® yee tht e Much eect in his life had any-| was still watching when a head, in a
role old © | tek mu estin “a adventure as this; | ¢jose-fitting cap, was thrust up over the
pites ot * Was Rn ore lik to meet with some- edge of the very roof where he was, and
or th at a € one before the win-| within fifteen feet of his scuttle. A pair
army oul sot%ip opt wi Christm of shoulders followed; then, after a brief
wor tha, site Nop Man th thought, eve. Carl’s mind was | pause, the entire figure hopped up on the
) nea Yoon 1 me Styd) a bygon so home anc. memories | roof, as soft and light as an ape, and sat
ME oy Ppl! "te 3) So ho’ Christmas. He could | there in the moonlight.
peel ows a tt! ing lon le thre ; : “ :
De" enON old ad ist ® lett, Ww his book aside and} Now Carl was no coward, as the event
t eb p°} Of Ste ers to ¢ , : ; > ‘ Sse
. nd be ys " hing "8, who his widowed mother | proved. And yet it must be owned that
oa eben id 8 Nea,then, we knew were thinking | the mystery of the thing vividly impressed
ove the af” th, an Midnight ten he got through it| his imagination, and made the roots of
n as tyr ton = takin hi He did not feel like | his hair thrill and stir for a few seconds.
j vee ao! Dorttd to th oo Ms lamp, he went to| Then reason came to his aid.
jo ys!?| the MR] find a pleaz where he was aceus-| “No Santa Claus that!” he said to him-
janatice © 0" fyStarg Over fasant recreation, after| self. “Somebody who has no business on
a8 i "isl on Use Pl 1S books, in studying | this roof! —— oer a gh Looks
we i Yas fo. 8 t : like a young fellow, a boy. He musn’t see
ie pest “one Wilh ty ton tf is able In one of the garret | me!” ;
. wh ome git | Mitte he Obgeryes; and celestial altar;| Carl stepped noiselessly back, closed the
hem a the tet Re Rta dow ations of the heavens|door of the room in which his lamp was
poy and fot ep Dg" on the landing of the | burning, then or eg ye Be eyes up
thet pence. be: Ny Uno over the edge of the scuttle-frame once
one be'pet agi? ie wanrre, i @n old trunk placed for | more.
her in cet by) 88h Was :
4 28% or 8 bead opin N its hip ele to lift the sky-| The mysterious visitor had Jeft his perch
e jet b adie The Ong 8 Poof, and.” lay it back upon | and was running along, hitch by hitch, in
yfts in Yh Yq Men, Under th then stand with his|a half-sitting, half-reclining posture to-
nad gs oy Ween ag 28 Cold © starry hemisphere. | ward the skylight. ;
pris og Me, Men 1° Lf he 453220 he wore his coat Again the boy’s blood curdled. But his
10 0 gis? HOD he : a - 7
pune pare (pt? lie q inte Shea to een on the street. |resolution of mind did not waver fora
ued Moth ¢ ‘inp Ore 2 the aan to his maps he|moment. One of two things was to be
Kel sow pre Maj Pur. returned Joining room, then | decided upon instantly—to close and fas-
rind 98 “tion tt his he to his hole on the|ten the window against the burglar, if
opris : » 4nd traced the con- | burglar he was, or—to let him come.
Carl determined to let him come, and
chest.
ble.
breath and strength.
he scrambled to his feet.
almost as soon as he; but he was on the
lower landing, while the burglar was one
or two steps above.
Back up the stairway the latter ]
seized the first thing he could Jay bold of
which happened to be a chair, hurled it
down upon Carl, and made a spring at
the window.
He was half out, when he once more felt
fury of fight rous
the upper landing
tagonist anotherand more dam
“YOUR SON HAS CHANGED, AND WANTS TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT,” SAID PAUL. “GIVE
ME A WORD OF ENCOURAGEMENT TO TAKE TO HIM THIS CHRISTMAS MORNING.”
fore he could throw open the door one foot
had kicked itself free and was beginning
to play a hasty tattoo upon his arms and
Had the burglar worn boots he
would have made a bad job for his captor.
But he had eutered the house
ing but stockings and soft rubber shoes on
his feet, and the rubbers were lost off in
the beginning of the struggle.
The freed foot was good, however, to aid
in the rescue of its mate, and it gave Carl
no leisure fur opening the door. Suddenly
he changed his tactics, let go the foot as
it was escaping him, and flung himself
headlong upon the prostrate burglar.
What happened afterward he hardly
knew, urtil he found himself rolling with
his antagonist down the attic stairs.
Both were slightly stunned by the tum-
The burglar was the first to recover
Flinging”Carl off,
the inexorable grip on his legs.
somehow dodged the chair; and all the
ed in him
Jugging the captured legs
remaining strengtb, he went staggering
back against the door, which he this time
succeeded in throwing open,
in time to give his an-
with noth-
Carl was up
eaped,
of,
Carl had
, he reached
aging fall.
with all his
When the burglar, whose head had
struck the floor as he fell, fully regained
his senses, he found himself lying on his
back across the threshold of a lighted
chamber, and his captor sitting heavily
across his body, holding him: down by the
arms.
Up to this time neither had cried out;
not a word had been uttered. ‘Then the
burglar spoke:
“1 think I may as well give up!”
“I should say it was about time,” Carl
answered.
There was a pause, during which both
breathed fast and hard after their violent
exertions, and looked steadily at each
other. ,
Carl had judged rightly; his burglar
was a youth not more than a year older
than himself; taller, perhaps, but less
stoutly built. Nota badsidokivas youth,
either, though his hair was tumblea and
his face streaked with blood. He had
lost both cap and shoes in the struggle,
and his shirt-front was torn and bloody.
“Well!” he said at length, “what are
you going to do about it?”
In spite of the smears of blood and
shortened breath, something in the face
and voice seemed familiar to Carl.
“T haven't thought so far as that,” he
replied. “Tell me what you were getting
in at this window for.”
“I came in to finda place to sleep,” said
the rogue, audaciously.
“You were very sly :” said Carl.
“Certainly. I didn’t want to disturb
any one.”
And more and more it seemed to Carl
that there was something in the face and
voice with which he had before been ac-
quainted.
“You are very considerate! No doubt
you wore ne boots for the san e reason.”
“Of course,” returned the captive.
“You don’t suppose I wanted to sleep in
my boots?”
“Where did you come from?”
“My boarding-house. I gave up my bed
to some feliows. I cane out on a little
voyage of discovery.”
“May be you can makea judge and jury
believe that,” said Carl, sarcastically.
“I don’t want the chance,” replied the
intruder, frankly. “Judges and juries are
apt to take wrong views of things.”
“TI believe I know you,” said Carl.
“I’ve no doubt of it; I know you,” re-
plied the burglar.
“Yes,” added Carl; “vou went to school
wheie I do, a little while. What did you
leave for?”
“Because I was a fool—I don’t know of
any other reason.”
“Did you know I lived in this house?”
“No; I don’t even remember your name.”
“TI remember yours—Martin Wharton,
isn't it? After you left there were a good
many inquiries as to what had become of
Wharton? I didn't expect to meet jou
again in this way.”
There was genuine pity in Carl’s tones,
and Wharton was touched. His lips
twitched, but he said nothing.
“Wharton, I’m sorry for you. Getu
and wash yourself; then we’ll talk this
thing over. But promise that you won’t
try to get away.”
Wharton promised readily, and Car] let
him up. The shoes were found and put
on, and Carl, carrving the lamp,
saw his captive before him down
the stairs to his own room. Here
water and towels were used by both—for
Carl found to his surprise that he was
almost as bloody and quite as tumbled as
his antagonist; then, combed and brushed,
they sat down and once more looked at
each other.
“Ain’t there anybody else in the house?”
Wharton inqaired.
“Not just now. I live here all alone,
take care of my own room, and get my
own breakfast and supper.”
“ Ain’t you lonesome as the dogs?”
“No, Iam as happy as a prince. I have
something todo. My studies interest me,
and T make the housework a recreaticn.”
“You area diflerent fellow fiom me!”
said Wharton, looking gloomily about
the room. 3
“TI suppose so. Now, tell me of yorrself,
I want to know how yon ever came to do
so strange, so wild a thing!”
“I’m naturally wild—the most reckless
fellow ever you saw! I'd give anything
if I was like you. Do you suppose I’ma
scainp because I want to be?”
“Not wholly. I don’t suppose anyhody
ever is so. How does it happen? I re-
member your father coming to school to
inquire about you; he seemed a decent sort
of man.”
“My father is a good man enough, but
he has never treated meright. Neither
he nor my mother ever had any authority
over me when I was little. I didn’t want
to go to school, and they did’t make me
as they ought to have ‘done. They tried
to hire and coax me to go, and when I
wouldn’t they made all sorts of excuses
for me, until I really thought I wasa rare
body—an exceptional character—too deli-
cate either to work or study. That's the
way I was brought up. Then when they
found out their mistake it was too late.
1358
GooDpD
NEw s.
I was so ignorant for a boy of my age, |
that I was ashamed to goto the public
school and be in the classes where I be- |
longed ; so at last I was seut to the private |
school where you saw me. You know how |
it was there. I couldn’t get along and |
keep up with even the lowest class. I
was too backward in everything. I had
never learned to apply myself. I got mad |
aud left—ran away.”
“Ran away from home?”
“Yes—for I had to, then, if I left school. |
My father has turned right round, lately, |
and I can’t blame him much,” muttered |
Wharton. “He is tired of getting me out
of scrapes. For, you see, when | wasn’t |
doing one thing, l was doing another; |
learning deviltry if not arithmetic. He
told me if I left school he would have
nothing more to do with me, and he has
kept his word, That put me in a hard
pisces especially as one of my chums had
yeen sent to the house of correction and
two of them to the reform school. That’s
why I happen to be out alone to-night. I
was hard up. I didn’t dare to take any- |
thing in the house where I board, for I
should have been the first one suspected.
It was so easy getting out of my attic
window, I thought I could get into some
other in the block and find a pocket book
or some table silver. I’m telling you the
honest truth this time.”
Carl was deeply interested in this story.
“Wharton,” said he, earnestly, “you’re
naturally a bright boy—and not a very
bad one, [ hope—-and, see here, Wharton!
you ought todo something better for your-
self—you are worthy of something better,
I am sure!”
The kindly emotion with which he spoke,
and which brought tears to his eyes and
a tremor to his voice, produced a singular
effect on Wharton, who burst out with a
strain of profanity, brushed his sleeve
across his eyes, Bee cursed his luck.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“Begin an honest life,” exclaimed Carl.
“There’s no safety or satisfaction in any-
bine else. You know that as wellas I
do.”
“Yes, and a dused sight better,” Whar-
ton replied, and using a much more pro-
fane expression. “But how can I? I can’t
earn my living, and my father won’t help
me.
“Your father will help you whenever he
sees you in earnest to help yourself; now
don’t you think he will?” :
“Well, may be; but the fact is he don't,
believe in me any more. I’ve promised
better fashions too often when he has got
me out of scrapes. I don’t blame him.”
So the two talked for an hour or more.
At last Carl said:
“Wharton, if I didn’t think you capable
of better things I would just hand you
over to the police for your own good. But
I am not going to do anything of the kind.
I am going to be your friend, if you’ll let
me. I[’ll see your parents in the morning
and bring about a reconciliation wit
them—I am sure I can—only convince me
first that you are in earnest, so that I can
convince them, for I never can make them
believe what I don’t believe myself.”
“If you mean that I am to go back to
that school, and be at the foot of a class
four or five years younger than I am, I
simply can’t do it,” exclaimed Wharton.
“Tf I had a private tutor—if you, now,
would only take mein hand, I’d prom-
ise—I’d promise anything, I’d do any-
thing.”
He spoke with so much feeling that
Carl, thrilling with sympathy, grasped
his hand,
“I'll do all I can for you. But, remem-
ber, you wlil have the most to do for your-
self. I'll see your father—shall I?”
“Yes—but don’t tell him how I came
into this house.”
“Nobody shall know that as long as
you let me put faith in you. Now go, and
come and see me to-morrow—or rather to-
day—at about noon.”
And, after exchanging promises and
er with his strange visitor, Carl let
1im out of the house by the front door.
The young student was for a long time
too much excited to sleep; and, although
he could have lain as late as he pleased |
that Christmas morning, thoughts of |
young Wharton, in whom he took a deep |
interest, roused him early. By nine
o'clock, his breakfast eaten and his house
work done, he was on his way to the
elder Wharton’s residence.
He was shown into a pleasant sitting-
room, where a boy of nine and two pretty
girls of twelve and fourteen were still
making merry over their Christmas pres-
ents. The mother sat by smiling’ with a
sad face. The father, a short, stout man,
with a broad, red-whiskered face, pres
ently came in and looked tranisindly at
his visitor,
Carl opened his business at once.
I have come to speak with you about
your son.
Mrs. Wharton gave a start and an ap-
pealing look at her husband. His broad
face was visibly agitated as he glanced
from Carl to the children, ;
“Girls,” he said, “you may take James
out of the room,” He closed the door
after them, and approached Carl, drawing
a long breath of anxiety. “You mean my
son Elwood.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Carl, though he had
never heard the son's first name before—at
school he was simply called Wharton.
“I have seen him and talked with him.”
“Are you oneof his crew?” demanded
the father, speaking sternly, with an
effort at self-control.
“I go to the same school where he went.
I had no other acquaintance with him—
until—he zalled on me,”
“How did he happen to call on you, if
you had so little acquaintance with him?”
Carl looked the suspicious father calmly
in the face, and answered, in words which
told yet concealed the truth:
“He fell in with me—accidentally—and
I asked him to my room, where we had a
talk. Ithink that your son is changed.
He makes solemn, and I believe sincere,
pledges for future good behavior.”
“He has made promises enough—too
many promises—in the past. He haseven
lied to me. He would neither go to school
nor learn any kind of business, though
[’'ve got him places and given him the
best chance ever a boy bad. Now, how
can I believe? how can I trust him?”
“Remember,” sobbed out Mrs. Whar-
ton, standing by his side, bowed, with
clasped hands, “he is our own son!”
The emotion the father betrayed, spite
of his efforts to conceal it, was not ali an-
ger; and Carl was encouraged to follow
up the wife’s appeal with a strong pe-
tition in the erring son’s behalf.
“There’s just one thing,” suddenly ex-
claimed the father, walking the room
with violent strides, and when standing
with clenched, raised hand before Carl.
“Will he go back to Professor Brown's
school ?”
“T think that if you knew just how he
is situated there you would not ask that.”
“IT do know. It’s hisown fault. I ask
just that. Will he go back?”
“Yes, in a littie while, Iam sure he
will. But he really needs a little private
assistance in his studies first. Let him
come to me—I’ll teach him, and report to
you faithfully exactly how he is getting
on. A month will tell the story. You
needn’t even take him home in the mean-
while; but just pay his board where he is
—that can’t be much—and give a word of
encouragement for me to take back to
him.”
“And how much pay do you expect for
your trouble?” Mr. Wharton asked, in-
sultingly, Carl thought.
But he excused the-suspicion of a father
who had never learned to put faith in his
son or his son’s friends, and answered,
coolly :
“No pay whatever. Iam interested in
your son, and will gladly do this for him
out of pure good will. If I succeed in
bringing him to serious views of life and
re-enlisting his family to him, I shall be
more than paid for everything.”
The broad face worked convulsively, and
Carl noticed two or three swift tears
course down and hide themselves in the
thicket of the red whiskers.
Mrs. Wharton clung to her husband’s
arm and pleaded in broken tones the boy’s
cause.
“He was my favorite child,” said Mr.
Wharton, with another strong effort at
self-control. “There was nothing I
wouldn’t do for him—nothing I didn’t
do.” He choked and went on: “And do
you think, this Christmas time, when our
other children are around us and happy,
do you suppose——”
But here he quite broke down.
“I know he has been in your mind,” said
Carl, “And you may be sure that you are
in his. He knows what kind parents and
what a pleasant. home he has lost—lost by
his own folly. All I ask for him is that
you will give him a chance to regain them
by good behavior.”
Then Mrs. Wharton spoke up:
“Tf this young man, a stranger almost
to our son, is willing to try him, ought
we not to be willing?”
“Well, I will try him once more!”
exclaimed Mr. Wharton, seizing Carl’s
hand. “I believe you are an honest fel-
low. Make my son an honest fellow, like
you, and you’ll place us all under eternal
obligations.”
“T’ll try,” said Carl.
“And see here! We're to have a Christ-
mas dinner—bring Elwood around with
you, and—we’ll talk the matter over.”
Carl accepted the invitation, and left
the house, elated with joy and hope.
The son came to see him again at noon,
this time entering at the front door, and
was deeply affected by the account Carl
gave of His interview with the parents.
Carl furnished him with a clean shirt,
and then went with him tothe Wharton's
Christmas dinner.
Both were joyfully received, and the
dinner—which, by the way, was excellent
—resulted in an arrangement by which
Carl was to take Elwood as a private
pupil 6n trial for one month.
__ The experiment was a gratifying success,
Elwood, separated from his old associates
and brought under the influence of the
genial, sympathetic Carl, soon became in-
terested in studies which he had only de-
tested before. Elwood went home to live;
he use to visit Carl every evening, and
Carl went to dine with him every day. That
Elwood had many temptations to overcome
cannot be denied; he was often impatient,
restless, ready-to-give-up, and rush out
into his old, wild life once more. But Carl,
by carefully wavching him, and joining
with him in moderate, healthful recrea-
tion, kept his hold upon him and brought
about a complete change in his habits be-
fore the winter was over.
But Elwood was not born to be a stu-
dent; he fancied an active life on board
a steamboat or ona railroad, and, at Carl’s
recommendation, he was permitted to
follow his bent. He is now a trusted,
efficient agent of one of the largest ex-
press companies in the United States.
His position is not high, but he is happy
in it, and all his prosperity he refers and
dates back to Carl Robson and that mem-
orable Christmas.
As for Carl, he is now a successful] phy-
sician in his native village, and the sup-
port and comfort of his widowed mother,
ee
ROCKY MOUNTAIN TRAPPER.
BY EDWARD 8S. ELLIS.
enc cinhine
> and the Atlantic are united by that
3 wonder of all human inventions—
“SS the electric telegraph, and the mail
runs regularly between the East and
West, one can gain buta faint idea of
what were the obstacles and dangers of a
journey over the Rocky Mountains, a
score of years since. Now the emigrants
take advantage of the numerous “passes,”
and the great Overland Trail may be con-
sidered an excellent road, uniting the
States with the extreme Western terri-
tories. But it was vastly different twenty
or thirty years since. On the maps pub-
lished at that time, thousands and thous-
ands of square miles were marked as the
“Great Unexplored Region,” and the Far
West was as mucha sealed book as is
Central Africa at the present time. What
a quaint interest attaches to the report of
Lewis and Clarke’s Explorations! With
what amazement did our fathers read of
the wonders they encountered—the gigan-
tic serpents, colossal grizzly bears, the
reat Nimmalayas, the mighty rivers, the
illowy prairies, the red men themselves,
and the numerous natural phenomena.
Now and then some daring band of adven-
turers united together and attempted the
formidable task of visiting the “far-off
Oregon,” or exploring the fabled Buena
Ventura. A portion of such after being
gone month after month, sometimes re-
turned to their homes, the rest having
fallen a prey to the fierce savages, with
incredible stories of what they had en-
countered; and many aman would have
sailed the world over and over before he
would have ventured to penetrate this
enormous region of our own country.
But all this time, there was a class of
white men, whose lives, it may be said,
were passed in these wild solitudes; and
who, in point of fact, were as much sav-
ages as their inveterate enemies, the In-
dians. Scattered here and there over this
vast portion of the American continent,
were forts, stations or trading posts, as
far distant from each other asthe islands
in the ocean; and in the territory con\pre-
hended between them, these fearless men
plied their calling. On the silent banks
of some Jone river, which “heard no sound
save its own dashings,” the trapper set
his trap for the beaver, making some
gloomy cave of the earth his retreat and
home. Now wandering with his rifle in
search of the swift-footed game along the
edge of some tumultuous canon, following
it through the wildest gorges, scaling pre-
cipitous cliffs, galloping over long
stretches of prairie, or laboring through
the tempestous bursts of storm, sleet, and
snow, that whirl in tornadoes around these
dreary mountains. Such a life, varied by
sanguinary conflicts with the wild animal
or Indian, did the Rocky Mountain trap-
per lead, and such a life was it that he
would not have exchanged it for the most
envied one within the pale of civilization.
Late one afternoon, near the close of the
year 1833, two trappers were riding
leisurely through what is now known as
the western portion of Nebraska within
sight of the Wind River Mountains. They
were mounted each upon a mule, well
loaded down with the traps and accouter-
ments needed during a prolonged stay
in these regions. The day that was draw-
ing toaclose, was most intensely cold,
and hardy and inured as were they to
suffering and exposure, they could but
fee) the piercing keenness of the icy wind,
that seemed to cut to their very bones.
One known simply as “Tom,” was short,
thick set, with a broad face, sandy hair,
snub ose, twinklin tray eyes, and an
expression of mdnglet good humor, stub-
bernness, and recklessness of danger,
w T this late day, when the Pacific
His companion, “Long Jim,” was
six feet in height, wiry, muscular ®
active, with sharp, thin features, al
peculiar, restless flitting of the ey&
often seen in men of his class, They#
trapped and hunted together for Ov
dozen years, braving all manner of
ger, and sharing every species OF |
ing, until they seemed inseparaple
mules walked slowly, and as the WH"
wind flashed over ie hairy bod Mi
does over a field o rrain, *y
shivered with the intenslt of the cold.
The trappers bent their heads toward
cutting blast as if to ward off its He"
ness, and talkative as they usually
they were now silent and only bent
preserving the life in their own 7
fhe feet of their animals clamp®@
the frozen prairie as if they were Wé
upon solid stone, and long icicles
pendantly from their noses, as
patiently plodded forward with |
masters. The day had so far ady
that it was already getting dark
the coming night gave evidence
terribly cold. Finally Long Jim:
from his mule’s back with an Ul
exclamation,
“Whew! but aint it a snortely 47)
I locked my legs under the mule §
to keep them warm, but insté
they acted like icicles on him, @™
near freezing him up. Whew? —
And turning his back to the’
ran backward against it, worl 0"
arms all the time as though he W@j¢,
ing himself through the alr PY 4 ob
until, striking his heels against]
struction, he tumbled over, bp aug
himself up in an instant. A lou@
greeted his mishap, and Tom ‘
lesson from his movements, Sli
animal, and joined him 1D.
demonstrations to keep his
culation.
“How about sleeping to-n
Jim, with an attempt at a5
he barely accomplished, from
of his face. t
“Let's disrobe, and stretch 00) ~
rock. Waugh!” imag:
This fearful leap of his stat
at
nation made both the trappe
spring several feet in the alr,
idea it brought before them. to-
“Can’t go it without a fire are
added Jim, “if a thousand reds
tw
trail.’ iy
tain oO
“None of the varmint ov
said Tom, as if he was cef (ae
that’s
mile
the
matter. “
“How do you know that?
“Cause it’s onpossible,
They’re froze up!”
“Darn’t trust the imps.
Be nid we nea
Rather go under decently, Be
man, with a builet through M&
ing stretched out on my, 4 wa
frozen turnip. Wal, I would. quite
By this time it had become | wel |
and reaching a sort of @ grON tio 1
trees afforded a partial PrOl
the blasts, they entered it, a? night.
preparations for spending Sor tl
mules needed no picketing» oir
no temptation to stray from ¥ oy
as Tom busied himself Mie
number of dried twigs, whi
larger branches from the tré
the fire had been started.
bark peeled from the cottonY ire
their animals their fodder, (
by them than the choicest Behe
been. In a short time, with ark
of some dried leaves, the smda
flint and tinder caught, 420),
rt
utes later a bright, roaring Or ipe
ling in the grove. Des, dt!
Seis Long Jim had evi enrit ]
flame under way, he cou’ ith
its cheerful proportions grov
trust. The trees of the fier
stand closely enough. toes a be §
it, and ath a light ae al
great distance upon the vs Poe
own experience was sue ents
no combination of the
to defeat the vigilence ° ¢
afford perfect security tO ypon te
Tom threw the branches | ainst
ventured to remonstrate ag fet
“No need of being SU gays. 1:
“hain’t seen sign for three all
“’Cause your organs OF
froze up. The redskins ®), «
and by thunder, if you
there, we'll have a W
afore morning.”
only allow ’em to share»
“Tom,” said Long fy
“I’m getting ashame
grace me by talking 8° be
profession. You remenay es
you I was in up 0D jack J
when Jim Leary and B
eee wh eo!
“Eh. does’: * :
“Wal, sir, that comed 4¢ bt,
We got cotched 1» se cABy
snow storms I ever nce iP
snowed under every Vain,
we dug our Way out hig
flopped down beside a
i
_ John had camped there afore, and left a
lot of wood, so that we soon had arousing
re again, and with our pipes out was
taking things comfortable like, when
whizz, bang came a dozen bullets right
oan us, and Jim and Black John!
led over and gave their last kick. I|
Made a dive in the snow, with the whole
Sie after my ha’r, and I done some tall
icking after I got clear of that crowd.”
th t € varmint are always comin’ when
Cy ain’t wanted. You know that as}
Well as Ido, Jim, but, chaw me, ef they
this 0 out a ha’r raising such nights as
48 they’re welcome to all they can get.”
for e™ Blackfeet would travel a month
lad e chance only; and I must say, Tom,
5 i ‘ont feel easy about that fire rearing
Pn that style.”
dives e’ll let it die down itself, ’though it
ai feel so cheery. You remember, Jim,
Par year when we was on the beaver
Sof the Yallerstone——”
_é trapper paused, and without chang-
& ve 4 muscle of his features, added, in a
as’ Which reached only his companion :
“must this grove is full of Injins! We
? make tracks !”
start}; Other had become aware of this
the pe fact at the same instant, and
Ee backwee Simultaneously made a spring
but oo in the darkness of the grove,
Were di that very second a score of rifles
s Upon ee esed, and as many yells broke
fleet €nightair. The two trappers were
is
ut of foot, and side by side they sped
in gon the moonlit prairie. After go-
an fre hundred yards, Tom stumbled
Tike Bu Long Jim waited for him to
bin we" Seeing that he did not, warned
y-
do it,” said Tom, in a matter-
; th “Two of them bullets went
Sickness rough me, and give me my last
ae Sorry ” : ,
*Y, replied Jim.
j TENE Begs any more?”
Over i use of trying,” said Tom, rolling
hear & his back. “I say, Jim, do you
4m, € Reds coming?”
B’) 8
i €ve I does.”
i Pointin, do me the favor,” said Tom,
ey Thy hae arcePly toward his head. “Take
i get phe with you, and don’t let the
“Can’t you use
t.
Ulsive as may > ; :
y seem this request,
a Pigg Jim prepared at once to eaten it.
distan&, YP his friend, he ran swiftly some
Which h at right angles to the course
We hic had been yursuing in order to
Moon Sa pursuers. But the light of the
Ment, and too bright to allow any conceal-
h ¢ they pressed him so closely that
\ ounpelled to drop him and attend
) Sha ida Safety. He had barely time
dey,» ands with Tom before he “ went
lim, gto the Blackfeet were upon
ting Mone a bullet among them, and
away ‘an »a& yell of defiance, Jim broke
saieitie, 4 Sped like a courser over the
Ya @ Bre at and followed by the vin-
&d hin, ackfeet. An hour’s flight car-
to Uthe m yond all danger.
» the jorning, he cautiously returned
; ba to look for his friend. He
lying upon the ground as he
“aie having been scalped by the
pats too bad,” he muttered, “that
ave got your ha’r. I meant
to gnvself, Dut the imps was too
earth: me the time.”
Aor. was too solidly frozen to ad-
; ou hove eing dug, so he straight-
gO With ar 8, took a last look at the
; Many Won Ich he had been associated
Pi 'S, and so he left him.
SPRotp a ————
| OOM OF AN OCEAN STEAM-
ny SHIP.
“ys of heavy gold shipments
om on the steamship isa very
% It is located i
Way place amidships. under
-©w of the passengers know
ce, or of the valuable treas-
ried across the ocean with
varies slightly on different
Usually about sixteen feet
8 Renee wide, and eight feet
r of an tructed of steel plates
ether Inch thick, and strongly
Wal a The floor, the ceiling,
Aheayy ve all of steel plates.
Yovided, door also made of steel.
t with two English “Chub”
ey Of Combination locks that
bur 2 ‘
zlar- roof ‘rites «
Seriby . P ; writes John
in
ional] Silver is usually in bars,
ry ed, mp is quantity of coin in bags
“ipments Was the case when the
rye The Mert gold were made last
ha the’ anicstic is credited with
Ving $4 Best quantity, her strong
“ping, 9,000 intrusted to it for
‘ow OF LIBERTY.
“
a c
oy Plieg Ap ee liberty” is more gener-
req Vlutig & cap used during the
™ Cap (take, teign. It éonsisted
£0 from those tert by
GoonD NEWS.
the liberated slaves of Marseilles), and |
it was first used inthe great revolution
of 1789. The Jacobin Club afterward
made the red cap a badge of membership, |
and it was then called the “Jacobin cap.” |
The right of covering the head was always |
esteemed the symbol of liberty; and the |
first act of slaves, when they were set |
free, used to be the setting of a cap on |
the head, as during their slavery they |
always went bareheaded. The cap thus
became symbolical of their restoration to
freedom. This simple sign of liberty
has played an active part in other revo-
lutions than the French. Gessler’s order
to salute his hat was the cause of the |
Swiss outbreak, and the subsequent re-
covery of the liberty of Switzerland. The
arms of the Swiss cantons are expressive
of this fact, as they have a round hat for |
a crest. In England a blue cap with a |
white border, on which is the inscrip- |
tion, “Liberty,” in golden letters, forms
the symbol of the constitutional liberty |
of the nation; and Britannia is sometimes |
represented as holding this upon the)
point of her spear.
or
LOCAL NEWS.
BY MAX ADELER,
~ rin ifliienrncg
U7 R. PERKINS,” said Colonel Bangs
N/\) tothe reporter of the Argus, “I
SY¢}) wish you would stir around to-
~Gs> day and get up a sensational
local of some kind. The paper’s been in-
famously dull lately. Now why can’t you
give an account of a sea-serpent that you
saw off the Capes yesterday engaged ina
fearful combat with a whale, during
which the whale swallowed the sea-ser-
pent all but the end of his tail, which
stung the whale to death—or something
of that kind—something exciting and
lively?”
“I can’t write about it if there was no
sea-serpent, can I?”
“Thunder and lightning, Perkins! have
you no imagination? People don’t want
facts; they want sensations. When I was
a local reporter I used to reel out the most
astonishing anecdotes about men who
went up twenty thousand feet high in
ballons and fell out, and struck telegraph
poles, which perforated them so that the
victim would = down to the ground,
and lay there with the pole sticking up
out of him until the doctor sawed it off
on each side, so that he went home with
a butcher-block permanently fixed in his
vitals; and I would tell of a boy who
stuffed himself with dried apples and
drank water until he swelled out so that
when he went into swim his abdomen
would graze the bottom, and he would
then try to stand on his feet and find that
the water was over his head, and that he
was broader than he was long. Things
like that—the public want them. They
like to be entertained; they care more
about excitement than truth. Now why
can’t you get up acollision for us? We
haven’t had a collision for ever so long.”
“T dunno; may be I might.”
“Explain to them that the two trains
were going at sixty miles an hour when
they met, and that when they struck, the
down train ran on top of the up train,
skipped along the roofs of the cars and
came down on the other side, without do-
ing any other damage than smashing the
ventilators and sweeping off a couple of
brakemen who were sitting on top of a
freight car. Paint it in strong. Say that
the trains were going so fast that they
slid ten miles apart before they could
be’stopped after the accident; and intro-
duce a humorous incident about an old
lady in the parlor car, who was so un-
nerved that she swallowed her spectacle-
case under the impression that it was the
smoked sausage that she brought along
for lunch, and attempted to put her um-
brella in her carpet- bag.”
“May be I might work it up somehow,”
said Perkins.
“Or, I tell you, s’posen you fix upa
story about a returned sailor, just ar-
rived, who got into a trance at sea, so’s
they thought him dead, and they put him
in a coffin and chucked him overboard,
and after a while.he came to and kicked
off the lid, and floated to the Cannibal
Islands, where hesneaked into the temple
and passed himself off as some new-
fangled kind of an idol, and finally got
three hundred of his worshipers to fol-
low him aboard ship, where he chucked
them into the hold, fastened down the
hatches. and sailed for Cuba, where he
sold them as slaves, and made a million
dollars which he has brought home to
give to his widowed mother, who has been
taking in washing and suffering from
rheumatism and cricks in her back.
“Now, a local like that would attract
attention: it would excite remark; people
would want to buy the paper. Give your
fancy play: unlimber your imagination,
That's the way I used to do.”
“It's # first-fate plati,” said Perkins.
" Why, & yous and etived file like yeu
might easily scare up some sort of an
anecdote about a man in this town named
Smith, who traveled across the plains
twenty years ago with his family and who
was swooped down upon by the Indians,
who grabbed his baby and _ scooted off,
while Smith, bald-headed and miserable,
went on until he found a desolate hearth-
stone around which to gather the re-
mainder of his family. And then you
might work up some kind of an idea
about Smith twenty years afterward
hunting up his child and finding her
among the Chickasaw Indians eating
baked dog and betrothed toa young brave.
And then when she failed to recognize
her parent, you might set it up that
Mrs. Smith should sing some old tune
which she used to put that baby to sleep
with, so’s to see if the maiden would re-
member her childhood. And Miss Smith
might have some distant recollection of
it, which was faint because the old lady
sang flat, and slurred her notes too much.
And then you might make her agree to
remember that tune if Smith would prom-
ise to load her up with jewelry and buy
hera piano. Andas Mrs. Smith clasped
her child to her bosom and wept, the
lover, the young brave, might turn up and
how], and be bought off by Smith, and
taken East, and be civilized, and become
a minister whosuddenly relapsed one day,
and tomahawked four deacons and the
boy who blew the organ bellows, and was
put in an insane asylum, while Miss
Smith, his wife, consolidated with some
other man. Now there’s the outline of
a good local. Run it over in your mind
and see what you can do with it.”
That afternoon Mr. Perkins resigned,
and he mentioned, subsequently, to a
friend, that when he wanted to hire out
as a novelist he would have that fact un-
derstood, but while he was a local reporter
he didn’t intend to go into fiction to a
vast extent for a consideration of twelve
dollars a week.
—_—__—_+-¢-»
ATHLETIC TRAINING FOR BUSINESS
PI
ZOPLE.
A person desiring to keep in good con-
dition, whose time is occupied in business
during the day, and has only the evening
available for athletic practice, should di-
vide his work thus: Rise at six or six
thirty in the summer, or an hour later in
the winter; take a sponge bath, followed
by a thorough rubbing with a coarse
towel until a glow pervades the surface
'of the body; then take a gentle walk for
about half an hour, return, and use light-
weight dumb-bells—one to two pounds
each—taking care to desist if any feeling
of fatigue becomes apparent. Breakfast
at eight; walk canta to business, if
practicable; never ride unless absolutely
necessary : dine at one or one thirty; sup
at six or seven. Practice at running or
very rapid walking, or any other form of
exercise chosen, from eight thirty to nine
thirty; retire at ten. This is not a severe
form of training, and is sure to produce
good health and a consequent buoyant
condition of the mind and body. Indulge
in any healthful foods, but do not eat
sufficient to cause a sluggish feeling.
Highly-seasoned victuals, salt meats,
soups, and cheese are not particularly
nutritious, and should be indulged in in
small quantities, if eaten at all.
—___~+- ee ______
HOW DYNAMITE IS MANUFAC-
TURED.
Dynamite is produced by the admixture
of nitro-glycerine with a silicious infu-
sorial earth, known under the German
name as kteselguhr, and in appearance
looks like brown sugar. The various pro-
cesses are carried on in isolated wooden
buildings, about twenty yards from each
other, and_ surrounded by massive banks
of earth. Nitric and sulpuhrie acids hav-
ing been mixed, the temperature being
maintained as low as possible by cold
water and compressed air, the acids are
run into a large leaden tank and further
cooled, when glycerine is injected by
means of compressed air. This process,
being one of considerable danger, has to be
closely watched. The nitro glycerine now
formed is drawn off and washed in an
alkaline solution to remove any acidity,
and is then incorporated with the
kieselguhr in the proportion of 1 to 3.
Cartridges, about one inch to seven
eighths inch diameter by three and a half
inches long, are then made up, wrapped
in vegetable parchment, and packed in
boxes covered with waterproof oil-paper,
with instructions and cautions on them
in different languages. Government
reuglations, both as to the storage and
transport of dynamite, are stringent and
restrictive.
——_-0-@—_
Ler a man refuse to work for ativthing
but a large salary, and it will fi6t be
long befote he has £6 choose between
sitting down op his &mbition, and stat v-
ing te Adeth,
1359
Ticklets
te C Ss:
BY CHARLES W. FOSTER
No Great Danger.
Adoring Youth—“‘Hark! What’s that?’
Sweet Girl— “That sound’s like pa's foot-
steps.”
Adoring Youth (moving uneasily)—“Hadn't I
better go?”
Sweet Girl—‘“‘No, stay.
to borrow over five
time.”
T don’t think he'll try
dollars of you the tirst
An Astounding Move.
First Statesman (blankly)—“Say, the farmers
are solid for free mail delivery. ‘They declare
they’ve got to have it.”
Second Statesman (dumbfounded) — “Great
Cesar! They’ll be demanding deceut schools
next.”
Left His Address.
Bank Teller—‘Well, sir.”
Tramp (at the window)—‘Saay, T picked up
part of a paper called the Bankers’ Bugle to-
day. Sawa queer thing init. Th’ paper is re-
hhable, eh ?”
Teller—‘‘Perfectly.
always be relied on.”
Tramp—"Jiminy! I'm glad o’ that. Say, that
paper says money is so easy that the bank will
soon be seeking borrowers, and I merely wish
to remark that when th’ hunt begins you'll tind
me on seat No. 236 Washington square.”
Its financial news may
Managing Pa.
Avent —“See here, my little man, what beau-
tiful things I have in wy wagon. I’m selling
bicycles. Ask your father if ie doesn't want to
get one for you.”
Farmer’s Boy—‘*What’s the price ?”
Agent—“ Fifty dollars.”’
Boy—"“Phew! Isay. Youtell pa that’s a new
machine fer plantin’ potatoes aud maybe he'll
buy one.”
Why He Failed.
Teacher—“I don’t see what’sa got into you
lately. You have always known your lessons
perfectly, and now you do not seem able to
comprehend a thing. no matter how much I ex-
plain it. Are you sick?”
Boy—“‘No, ma’am; but papa and mamma is
away ona Visit, and now there isn’t anybody
home to explain your explanations so I can un-
derstand ’em.”
A Decided Improvement.
School] Boy—‘Mother, what do you think?
Prof. Dryasdust told us he knew of a boy out
West who nheds his whole skin twice a year.”
Mother—"‘I think there is one clean boy in the
world anyhow.”
Only a Half.
Little Dick—“‘Did you ever see half a boy ?”’
Little Dot—“No; did you?”
Little Dick—“Not yet, but we both will next
week. A cousinof ours What we never saw is
comin’ here from the West, an’ Mamma says he’s
a half orphan.”
Old-Time Weather.
Old Laty—“Dear me, what a wet rain this is!
The streets are like streams.”
Little Girl—“Once,when I was little, it rained
hard as this all day, an’ the streets didn’t get
wet at all.”
“Impossible. ny pet, impossible.”
“T saw it.”
“You are certainly mistaken.”
“No, Lisn’t. Fast as it came down it froze.”
A Difference in Cigars.
Street Urchin—“Saay, ginume another one 0’
them five cent cigars.”
Dealer -*‘By the way, here’sa cracked ten cent
cigar you can have at the sale price. Paste
paper around it and it will smoke all right.”
Urchin—“! can’t smoke them ten cent cigars,
Them is wade out o’ terbacker, an’ they makes
me sick.”
It Doesn’t Pay.
Little Daughter—“I’m awful sorry we had our
old piano tuned.” s
Mother—“Why 80, my dear?
Little Daughter—Cause when T play
can’t blame the discords on the piano.”
now L
sear :
CONSTIPATION
and other
bowel complaints
cured and prevented
by the prompt
use of
Ayer’s Cathartic Pills
They
regulate the liver,
cleanse the stomach,
and greatly assist
digestion.
Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co.
Lowell, Mass.
13so
{Original contributions solicited. Please do not
send puzzles containing obsolete words. _ Address,
“Puzzle iditor” Goop Nrws, P. O. Box 2734, New York
City.] ore
No. 1—METAGRAM.
Whole, I signify to defy ; change my head and
I becowe in succession :
Chill.
2. A metal.
3. ‘Lo retain.
4. ‘l'o give for a consideration.
5. Said.
No. 2—DIAMOND PUZZLE,
1. A consonant.
2. A spike of maize.
8. A boat.
4, A New England city.
5. A celebrated pioneer,
6. Before.
7. A consonant. Tony H. WILSON,
No. 3—Cross-worp ENIGMA,
1. In bear, but not in rat.
2. In mouse, but not in cat.
3. In Frank, but not in James,
4. In Liffey, but not in Thames,
5. Inark, but not in ship,
6. Inslap, but notin tip.
7. In spoon, also in fork,
Whole is a city in the State of New York.
MACCACIAX,
M. F,
No. 4—WorD SQUARE.
1. Pertaining to birth.
2. ‘To descend,
3. A household article.
4. To distribute,
5. British courts,
Cus. R. FISUER.
No. 5—CHARADE,
My first @ grand creation doth proclaim,
That bears my second for a Christian name;
My whole, a city neither small nor great,
That's found in a staunch New as State.
No. s—DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
The primals and tinals, read down, name two
ancient heroes.
. 1. The Egyptian sycamore.
2. A deep Uncture.
3. Shy.
4. A musical composition.
EAU K.
No. 7—NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
This enigma is composed of 36 letters.
The 20, 16. 6, 10, 32, 2, ll isa city in Scotland,
The 23, 3. 22, 27, 18. 31, 82, 26, 17,19 is a large
American city.
The 31, 5, 11, 12,18, 35, 34, 3,19, 10 is a large
American city.
The 6, 7, 25, 28, 34 is a cape of the old world,
The 15, 24, 8. 31 isa cape of South America,
The 29, 15, 30, 12 is one of the United States.
The 1, 9. 16, 12, 83 is what waris apt to make.
The 21 is a vowel.
The whole is an old proverb.
McPHERSON,
No. 8—ANAGRAMS.
1. He ate N’s rib.
2. Can T. select?
%. Let it see room,
4. O, let me!
5. Do rap it.
No. 9—CURTAILMENTS.
Who ein the heavens Tam found;
Curtail, you advance upon the ground.
Orce more, a prefix I shall be:
Again, then company you'll see.
Take one more tetter from my train,
Aud then one hundred will remain
THos. E. KAFFERTY,
Bos SLED.
No. 10—COMPOUND WORD SQUARE.
1. Stratavem,
2. A mountain range.
3. ‘To move on the water.
4. A girl’s name.
On the last line build another square, as fol-
lows: 1. A girl’s naie,
2. To fasten.
8. Found in nine,
4. Mischievous animals,
At the side of the first square build another
one, as follows:
1. A girl's name,
2. To spring.
3. Tuperfect.
4, Mischievous animals.
The remaiuing square is formed thus:
1. Mischievous animals.
2. A section,
8. A lake.
4, To move. H. A. GREGG,
—_——_+-9-—@————__—
Answers to Puzzles in No. 84 Good News,
No, 1—
No. 2—
Crash, rash, ash, sh.
VENAL
E:D Ft Le
Nee tw
A L ; 4 2
LED }
No. 3—
Hover—lover, rover, over, cover, mover.
No. 4—
<
wad
PoOZsa
DaDAAAQD
RAQ8
Upa
wd
Cabbage.
ymbol 8
nick-knac K
poeryph A
ranscenden T
Inpolit E
oveimbe R
8
8
K
A
oe
I
N
G
_ anin
Skating—Skaters.
Queen Victoria.
GOoondD NEWS.
CHRISTMAs
Short Stops.
GoEs to the wall—Ivy.
TACKLED for tood—Fish.
ALWAYS calling—Tramps,
“FRET”’-WORK—Wrinkles.
A BRILLIANT ball—The meteor,
LITERATURE for Deserters—Fugitive poetry.
Or what profession is every child? A player.
DESIRABLE from a Lawyer—His good opinion.
Wuy is aroot like a farmer? It shoots from
the eye.
THOSE who like our enemies are awfully easy
to please.
Wuy is troy weight like a dishonest person?
It has no scruples.
PoPULAR Publisher's Motto—Small profits
and no “returns.”
Why is the letter iin Cicero like Arabia ?
is between two C's.
Wury is a parson's gown like charity? It cov-
ers a multitude of sins.
A PUSHING nan always gets ahead in this
world. So does a cabbage.
CaN tripping up an objectionable policeman
be described as laying down the law ?
A LITTLE girl describes a snike as “a thing
that’s a tail all the way up to its head.”
THE serious man is the dangerous
Humor is incompatible with viciousness,
IF your uncle's sisteris not your aunt, what
relation is she toyou? She is your mother.
A WANDERING guitarist, on being asked his
trade, described himself as a ‘“‘tink-a-tink’-er.
UNLIKE the majority of things in this queer
world, fos are always mist until they are gone.
IT is usually the case that the worse a man's
influcnce is the more he has on those around
him.
THE big clock in the tower of Philadelphia's
new City Hall is to be wound by a steam en-
gine,
Tr is hard to tell which has the most influence
in the neighborhood—a preacher or a police-
man,
NO MATTER how good aman is, he is seldom
80 shocked by what he hears that he doves not
repeat it.
IF you want aman to admiré you, cultivate a
thirst for information on the subjects he likes
most to talk about,
A MUSCLE that is not exercised becomes weak
and useless; the result is the same when aman
constantly refuses to exercise his good sense.
MANY men make most of their arguments to
themselves—they are afraid to make them to
others, fearing they will point ont the mistakes.
DURING the past year there were over five
million pieces of matter withdrawn from the
mails because of incorrect or insufficient ad-
dresses.
To DESTROY the odor of paint in a newly
oo room, put a handful of fresh hay ina
sucket of water and let it stand in the room
over nigut,
It
man,
3 Sv
tel te.
FoR AN Beas
PRESENTS.
First TOURIST (on board the boat)—“Are ye
ill. Thomas ?”’
Second Tourist (faintly)—‘D'’ye think I’m do-
ing this for fun?”
LADY (who has accidentally knocked down
the artist’s newly-finished piecture)—"Oh, dear,
Tan so sorry! And what a pity it should have
fallen on the smeary side!”
“TWAS not aware that you knew him,” said
Tom Smith to an Irish friend the other day.
“Knew him!’ he exclaimed. “I knew him
when his father was a boy!”
WHEN aman goes to hed early, sleeps well,
and gets up feeling as rocky asif he had been
toa cake party, he is very apt to question the
statement that virtue is its own reward,
STERN PARENT (to a young applicant for his
daughter's handj—*Young man, can you sup-
port a family ?”
Young Man (ineekly)--"1l only wanted Sarah.”
INSPECTOR OF POLICE—“Why didn’t you re-
port at eleven o’clock, as [told you to? Itis
after twelve now.”
Detective—"‘Confound it, sir, one of those
pickpockets [I was shadowing has stolen my
Wwateh !”
MARTHA WASHINGTON’S Bible, which brought
seven hundred and sixty dollar at the sale of
Washington relics in Philadelphia, has been
purchased by C. F. Gunther, of Chicago, for
five thousand dollars.
Mr. DuNLY—“I always move about in the
best society "
Mr. Mayflower—*Indeed,”
Mr. Dunly—"*Yes; I am the agent of a debt-
collecting institution.”
FASCINATING WIpow—“And
doing nowadays ?”
Gentleman—“Oh, amusing myself looking out
for Number One. And you?’
She—* Looking out for Number Two.”
First FISHER (on the rizht bank of the river)
—‘I say, man, ha’e ye got a bite vet?”
Second Fisher (on the left bank. exactly op-
posite, rubbing his lez)—“Ave, I ha’e got a bite,
but it wis frae the shepherd's dog.”
FIRST PASSENGER—“They say that everybody
is more or less superstitions. How is it with
you? Do you believe in signs ?”
Second Passenger—“Believe in signs? You
bet your life Ldo! I make my living painting
em,’
A FITTING rebuke was given by a clergyman,
in Chester County, Pa., to numerous genilemen
who disturbed the congregation by the noise
they made putting on their overcoats, during
the singing of the doxology. He said:
“Now that you have your overcoats on, we
will sing the doxology over again.”
He—‘T didn’t get your last letter.”
She (ponting)—“And [ sent you a kiss in it.”
He—How unbusinesslike you are! Don't
you know that letters containing valuables
shonld he registered ?”
He was allowed to kiss away the pout,
Dk. PERKINS SOONOVER was called on to at-
tend Hostetter McGinnis, who complained of a
pain in his chest,
“That's dyspepsia you've got,” said the doctor.
“What does that come from ?”
‘Dyspepsia? That comes from the Greek.”
what are you
Our Mail Bag.
{Questions on subjects of general interest onl
dealt with in the “Mail Bag.” lical or
questions not answered. Goon NE zoes 10.
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and @
fore answers cannot appear until two or three
after we receive them. Comnnunications intel
this column should be addressed Goop NEWS
Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.) 4
———-@-
Maggie M. (Wheeling, West Va.)-- Poet
clined with thanks. Notappropriate forGOOD N*
and would suggest you submit it to oneol,
home papers.
W. H. T. (Brooklyn. N.Y.) -Cyanide of P
sium is the best medium for killing specim
insects, such as beetles, butterflies, and the li
W. D. (Grand Rapids, Mich.)—Not being
quainted with the party you inquire abont, we
not vouch for their reliability. Under noe
stances could we publish their name and add
this column.
Little Jack (Philadelphia, Pa.)—1. You will]
no trouble in buying at least eight different tor
electric bells, 2. It would not be surprising:
racetrack you inquired about did not open
next season, 3. We do not publish coin
we can get you one, and send it on receipt of
10 cents,
K. P. (New York)—It does not require influ
to secure an answer in “Mail Bag” or “short
with the Boys” columns; it takes only #?
question signed by the sender. You must ha
tience and wait your turn. The Presidels
United States would have to take his turn 2
the same as you, y
J. D. B. (New York)—To enter West Points
must be between 17 and 22 years of age. ,
have at least a good public school education
physically sound, Each Congressman
naning of a candidate, butof late years
rule to have competitive examinations, 80
ter how closely related to a Congressman Yor
be, you would have to compete for the appeil!
For further information write to the Comal
of your district.
T. A. B. (New York)—Not being acq
the deceased.and as you did not send ns any
lars, it would be impossible for us to wrilé
of resolutions. You will tind forms of oe
in the daily papers almost every days
ought to be able to draw up what you an
these. Very sorry our space would nat “a ;
publishing a “dummy” resolution for ya ave
from, but we are certain you will not }
trouble if you do as we say. wl
E. S. (Syracuse, N. Y.)—1. There have Wek
teen Postmasters General since 1866, nan
dall, 1866, of Connecticut: Cresswell, 1869. necti¢
Marshall, 1874, Virginia; Jewell, 1874, Co” May’
Tyner, 1876, Indiana; Key 1877, Tent
nard, 1880, Tennessee; James, 1881.
Howe, 1881, Wisconsin; Gresham, 188% °
Hatton, 1884. lowa; Vilas, 1885. Wisconsil ‘A
son, 1888 Michigan: Wannamaker, ie ites fi
Johnson was President of the United Si#
and 1866; Grant, 1869 to 1876; Hayes]
Garfield, 1881; Arthur, 1881 to 18-4; Cleve
to 1888; and Harrison, the present Pres
office in 1889,
Daisy K.(Newport, R. T.)\—Kirm
tainment generally given in some
public place for charitable purpos jgat
aged by a religious or charitable organ kin!
the modern entertainments designateeine :
the costumes and customs of the old- rnwoll ?
are followed as far as desired, An after us
held in the latter half of the afternoon. ta ny
at a private house, served from a siden
hostess and he: daughters, or some part igh
The guests are commonly ladies, (hows oy
often admitted to the mysteries. Gues
thelr respects to the hostess, talk for @
and then leave, pe’
Cc. S. (Houston, Tex.)—1. Of the four ty thi!
machines mentioned in your lee ae Ham!
most popular is the Remington, with he
a very close second, 2, Which 18 we qite
writing machine “on the market is the.
opinion, The fastest type-writer in H ;
Frank E. MeGurrin, of Salt Lake City: xcl ave
is 1241-2 dictated words in a minutter et
errors. He rarely has need to look ab ®
When writing memorized passage
duced 156 words ina minute. Mi88 in
Grant, of New York, rank next ie 1
Miss Orr has a record of 93 4-5 words wade
We understand these records were
Remington machine,
F. J. (Brooklyn, N, Y.)—Candidated
Naval Academy are made betw “re app 7
March and the first of use: Tae onli
Members of Congress, the same ne.
Weat Point. hast qere
New
eas $8.00
lic OF
yan i
Every Congressman ”
of making one appointment, me
vacancy. A Congressman can, if h nth
without examination, but it has beeritivé
number of years past to hold cum the
tions, and appoint the bey living’ 1
man's district having the highes dines poll
arithmetic, geography, grammar, ve t
and spelling, The examination mon ;
and no boy withont a first-class rae reg!
cation ean hope to pass the percel ‘na
A. @. (Burlington, lowa)- The Grpeets
the peace footing. consists of 21.2 Un 49
409 men, with 81.598 horses, and 1 ones eee
war footing the total strength 12.781 ned
officers and 1,456,677 men, with oa
2.408 guns, The field army hasé "gl
officers, 242.415 horses, and 2.
troops, “Ersatztruppen,” with
officers, 38,943 horses, ant
turm,’’ a last reserve, i a ai
butit isnot organized in o
the army, you Tre probably aw x
In 1887. 41,135 men, forming
batteries, nine companies of
train, were added to the peace gq 10 &
awar footing, Germany 18 pray arm
than 3,000,000 men in the field ft stl
[Several communicutions left over to
week.)
Military M@
nth ro
fr from
t4 ne
ining
The Cadet Corps of the Thit
G.S.N i
J.
_Y., would like to hea
over 15 years of age and 5 -
Brooklyn, who are desirons of fe
For further partienlars addre
Lexington avenue, Brookly®- ne
h
Boys wanted to join the wit 19 years
Corps. Must be between 1A ee " ner Re
5 feet 2 inches to5 pi ene ye N es ul
any Thursday evenin a sect
‘Armory. 221 Weat Twenty sit) S gen Pit4
Jos. O. Gonden, Captain; B ; 7
){XCHANGE DEPARTMENT cf Wd DE tan Taye Rj
4 } ) J 4 d ~
a MONEY PRIZES FOR “GOOD NEWS” READERS,|Good News Binder.
e ys .
q ORTANT.—This column is free to all our readers i
i us Not be Tesponsible fon trataactions bros Price 50 Cents.
ie only att BR he FO} cee 2 Bae Saar, o pee Answers the purpose olf a bound volume.
§ a , e offers. > will not insert y ; ona fitty.tw ATH OR Sth ¥
a nn Be Fadvertisements, nor exchanges of ‘fire-arins, Holding itty-two aoe comfortably.
a ee eree = | Notiy a erous,or worthless articles. If exchange a
Ba Weeki 1 10 not appear in a reasonable time, it may be Te TOY
ended 1 4 tom that they were not accepted. Address all N O CO | PONS,
Ons for this column to “Exchange De-
NEWS
a —~ +
ARETIE PICTURES.—J. F. Courtney, 130 NO CAN VASSING,
e- a Ey Street, Brooklyn, N. Y., has 2.000 cigarette
Poetty WS j wet Cigarette albums, 25 cabinet photos of
1001) + am
J Péyers, 75 cigarette slips, and 3 sets of cigar- Y U Y Y
one of your | or es to exchange for best offer in stamps N O G ESSING.
‘ Other offers considered.
ie of wa a . “S Brown, 2719 Darion st., Phila., Pa.. “
sc imens , eign a U.S. ste ; axchang ————--- —— 0 —-—- ——
ne ea gg of old and stamps to exchange for
2 ae oS —“harle artin 508 Ms ¢
velit ga P MSING, Grempriccs eee Martin, 508 Manhattan | THIS 1§ A COUNTING COMPETITION, PURE AND SIMPLE.
no oii 00 _ to exchange for some kind of musi-
i acl : -
¢ . bs —— o— a.
a ING PRESS.—L. E. Daly, 330 Prospect
ya will ent | Dr eland, O., has a 3x4 self-inking printing ‘ , ° .
rent torr ihe Mvaluable articles to exchange for a6x8 In connection with our powerful new comic story by Bracebridge Hemyng, author
rising 4 )
ree all — and outfit or best offer. All let-| of Jack Harkaway stories, entitled **THE FOOL OF THE FA MILY,” we will start a
n Dooks I Hy ARIPS.—T. J. Brown 426 West 56th street, | 2° and novel contest.
ipt of PE Q City, has libraries ‘to exchange for boys’
ea
re infinente —_ SS bagonee Manitowoc, Wi.s, has READ CAREFULLY THE FOLLOWING DIRECTIONS.
‘snort Tae Paty brari« sxchange for boys’ papers : ‘ ps j
an proper eee - ox0hai ES tor boys’ papers. Directions.—The competitor must count every letter ‘‘e’’ in each chapter of the story
ust nave the [a UE.—Walter Hemineway, 413 Eleventh | “Lhe Fool of the Family” week by week from its commencement.
Hi peresast 7} St stam, Te eoklyn, N. Y., has a placque and 1-2 At the conclusion,of the story the competitors must send in their lists to the Prize
va he ease to ea ame OTN $B, AN | Editor, Goon Naws, 29 Rose street, N. Y. | a
poin a as | Seka Each list must contain the number of “‘e’s” in each chapter, and also the grand total; ena: eae : ;
3. ae nd be dP tion, yy —Frank Moore, Gen. Del., E. Cap. Sta- that 18, the number of ‘e’s’” in the whole story. : It is, withont doubt, the finest binder, ever offered
cation & the ngton, D. C.. } faint - an a 7 4 . ; even for double the price we ask, and is indispensable
an 00a oe Pos oe 10 Shain 98 Sut The title of the story, the author’s name, the chapter headings, the words beneath | to those who are keeping their papers, as it not only
bi jg tl els; books for U.S, 1851 or 69 issue : : : Ricks ’ ” reserves GOOD NrEws for future reference, and fro
are | potas +, ,, Uists exchanged. the picture illustrating the story, the words beginning ‘‘The author of, etc.,” and the | prevents. Foe Sasori fndien Wench mudd tect Aeae RE
8 at might : A STAMPS._w. C. Merchant, Box 747, | words at the end of each weekly installment ‘“l’o be continued.—_Commenced in No. —, | is both useful and ornamental. . :
np poral re Stamps or “Marea dal lel tn etc., must all be included in the count. No lists must be sent in until the story is com- | 242353 dura a ie ping ager Af eh noone =
ou er e Pb 3 ab et estat 4 rer j leted A opens flat as any book, -and each week's paper can be
py with Pat clipping. of @ column ye Saha P mae z 5 4 : 2 inserted as soon as received. Full di. setions for insert-
naimiparticls | gp meach letter. The following prizes will be given to those counting most correctly : aE ie SOD earn coe arin Saat canis
ann} 8 5 : : er - . a 2 iS a NEWE se ACK ARC OF
rile 7 fone UD} creunie Atherton, 3625 Nic. ave., Min- One Prize of uA Ser stan da Oe ta RE PN) Re a dees tt ace $25 00 binder pins, postpaid, to any address on receipt of 50
f reso " "yo Fg lOn of ate a stock of 500 stamps and a col- e cents,
Jay. Ae om r Dest oy eerent to trade for a foot-power scroll EE PP ME OO ig Bh eS oi os 5 Ta he hoe ec bs PTE {0 00 ——
v1 want af 8 : ors 4 v x
Haining PMRPING Mavren.rrea. v. Gootwin, pur| Ten Prizes of $2-.-..----- Sree Lae gues 20 00 opu ar Authors
ry a ea 2 r ¢ ‘ s ° e
‘ot have * trical suppites. of all kinds to ex Twenty PPE ROB OE a ooo 8 a Ot eg ev Se ws 20 00 See
te ERS,— ; » ae ; i ; ; ‘ .
ve veer Or F eipiia can Fg gn i You may never again have such an easy chance of winning money prizes. Beginto| We have received such a large number of in
na aa xchange for a banjo or violin and bow | count the ‘‘e’s’” at once, and get your friends to do the same; then you can check one Nyt to al ‘. ere eee
9,.- "iG i : J ee 7 LW t z pulse SU 8,
connecttiy: 7 ie i another, and have a better chance of getting your totals right. that we have been oblived to reprint some of
penne’ yorki aXe 1, ee eee. ere te - ; the issues. We are, therefore, in a position to
apa, nda, Be {Or either one of the J une, J aly. Novem. Via fill all orders for the stories complete at the fol-
sit} a 5 numbers of the Philatelic Journal lowing prices: :
"389, pent 1965 Where He Got His Money, by Oliver _ fe
‘states | 18803 Foy : Ted. Williams, 17 Hancock street, ; wet SODUC.,. 5 areinnts- say senizen -.--. 3 Numbers l5c,
:. 1877 savy an |) Pane vels im Prchanne for 10 ; me a on the Island, by Oliver eee 150.
ev tol 0 elic Journal of America, and Meh Ey, Ny Ags tae = oi Alaa he 9S ace ato 2
resident "To ottier 10 sent him Ls Satine Sater lire: gece -
n entel ; 3 PS—Toseph Gilbert, 30 Carmine Cantlemeg fo sas 4 Bee sc ee 8 30c.
as 18 wn gel Be in ‘City, has boys’ papers and a Fair- ~~ a Guy Harris, the Runaway, by Harry
wblics 4 may Thy AMps __- ben to exchange for best offer. ~~ é wi Cass omen: | Peree Caetic 5 7c.
mrZAiO go i Toner Box 945, Bellaire, Ohio, e as nite re ae of we ee 75.
od KiPM ve $5 Oreign stamps in an album, Enola, the Gipsy Captive, by Edw. S.
j-time fen n 18 Or quoite ue of reading matter, and a i RIN so ot ncaa tok ae oe ee d 35c.
rerndol! nally } tars Oits to exchange for a banjo, man- “ Ransomed, by Edw. S. Elis.....-... 8 40c.
ne an te ts GLOVES seth aed ; : NH Amote® Esquimaux, by Edw. S. “ “i
tA) pile ') 2S.—Elihu A. Trask, care o HSS \ EWS fj ae yg SENS so oe epee ene ene canes ans ede .
riet ar re / “yet Bui er, Room 115 Adams’ Express S % ELL ze AY : : Slaves of the Circus, by Walter IRS ee
ong pe Of joo Ill., would like to exchange a tk S Shifting Winds, by W. B. Lawson _10 50c.
est commie , for MDI one. gloves and some choice books xy ie \\_ Zz The Sanat tune Sees e WB. -
q slior eg Bie ep hing outfit or a self-inking ) ZH pan Lawson 7 riya 55e.
ing chase about 5x7 or there- gS” Sy Cadet Carey, by Lieut. Lionel
iT tyre ink te pg ) PAPER Wa A SN wdounsberry v see - eS as 60c.
, we none x. 4 S.—Clemens MecMillon . lidshipman Merrill,ovy Lieut. Lione
we Feat ot Dg Alot of books and papers to ex: aus : Ligut Cae ened: ty Lieut Yiswei wr
pate yd is LLL ; LOMMBDETNY 26.2 8ooc has soos es 50c.
gn Quen iy a ARDS.—H. OC. Gid r L gs r unsberry. ot :
foo ‘izare - 2, dman, Norfolk, ‘ —_ ati Capt Carey of the Gallant Seventh, by
y iia te of Tt Pay offen” cards in good condition to ex- Th Se Shes patent, Lionel Lonnsberry “ai 10 50c.
*aclise ol in. tee : ~ one 4 ween the Lines, by Lieut. Jas. K.
OXF ay -DO8 WayetND NO , rton 1 850,
the Ktas WN M VELS.—E. O. Slawson, 39 in Only an Irish Boy, by Horatio Al-
g, We Me Md :. ntclair, N. J., has a large lot of i y, by
By ie Ale atl. %, an articles to . ; i ‘i OF DE cae eee an ogee oe 60c.
nim J) Anat’, | haya are mrmicsd = HE following subjects are treated of in Grif; fie ee ee ae me
3 in by on Oe D. McConnell, Duck Creek, Ga., pp aust. 8. & 8. Manual Library. ; Frank and Kyparless, by Horatio Al- .
) ae Condition’,*9 exchange for a printing : Down the Slope, by James Orie... te.
7 _— r ar, 4 a thease te * ‘ er > DF I , S......, é Oe
for anmat of | S,AMpy ; est offer. All letters an i Carcago, Ill The Album Writer’s Assistant. Teddy's Venture, by James Otis..... 16 80c.
amie Hed tS Pliny, ». Faas, Box 328, Wi Pp ; &S :—Gentlemen : Being a The above writers are the best known and
: ap rill as for Ey eg 3 Has 10 old a ,Winamac, Pulaski MESSRS. STREET SMITH Oot henentily thie . The Way to Dance. most popular authors of young people’s stories
remnaila teil? 1 cigarette bata con a a good | constant reader of your paper, I herewith take ay: in this country. The numbers following the *
as the re ‘6 8 for old U.S stampa, of nov: }iMvertyof writing to you. I have taken ae oy The Way to do Magic. names of the stories denote the number of issues
_ oe a oF gilts et, LETER William ‘Rosenberg, 37 thi nk it so aimee Err ine peatee gat it reneiwea The Way to Write Letters Be dat Brh pe abap hog feu ye tins 8
eee le eae Or, a ic "Ti z eas ink it Is worthy . , = will be sent postpaid to any address on receipt
pe ree nil } Wn 0, Ill., has a lot of readin ’ the most desirable juven- < . 7 aa ; vA acm
wise ore r Room dex” magic lantern with Gs pation tease ear eter could ea 1| How to Behave in Society. of price stated aay . ae. : 8S oer
1 Teentitings Fa Press or printing material, ‘Size of | 4M only a boy myself, and read all the boys'papers |" 4 mateur's Manual of Photography. ISERS Se ee ae
Nye pits D wat east 6x8 inches Se ublished, bat Goop News heads them all in the : : :
ANF rorya PY "Sp = ist. Thisstatement I believe the majority of Goop| Out of-Door Sports. -
very noo ¢ ‘| ot .W. Cochrane, care of Cerealine N . aders Will readily second. Hoping that ‘ OOC CWS ] I alr1leS
on Sires ¥ % Sut has Goon News from No. 1| NEWS reade Beans How to do Business.
ice FOF ee ‘Ove ing devels to exchange for a set | 18 cre.” om A will continue, I am,
st yd Beton aot order. Pn eee Bid’g, Chicago, m, | 12¢ Young Gymnast. Price 10 cents. -
ABO Olah | ; hast Wendener, 739 Fifth street, Se teats ares The Hunter and Angler. eens
tt 10 an Way Melecty. .> 0C: and 10 10c. novels to ex- Brooxiyn, N. ¥ :
OTT xe 8 9 ao motor or best offer. : ote dia a Short-Hand for Everybody. The books in this Library, while replete with stories
731 WO a 1% ST. DEAR Str: In my estimation Goop News is the ’ eae eee Fcc Seam babes pion tease:
73V yy alll ape AMP.—W.. Bur P. O. Bo EAR SIR y : «4s of adventure, are free from objectionable sensation
yp MEM Aho City, h : er P. O. Box | pest weekly journal of literature and fictionforthe || The Taxidermist’s Manual. alism.
a; Vl te 3) oe as an old U. S. envelope f the dl vel or- . Sarees
WSS ete onl * Of 1853 to exchange for best offer, | ising generation. It is not of the dime no Riddles una theirs Answers
eee Alone a ER.—Chas.W. Morey, Box 904, der, but ey feed poet cereus ibe bee the ‘ , No, 1. -CAMP AND: CANOES ets Cesiee of
4 aq) ENO gee Val County,” Sais ey» OX ow, | moral, and entertaining. le youths ss Reci the Red Jackets in Florida, by St. George
ad i ort, 7 Mh Mtluabie avi epic hasreading matter | must ‘have reading, and in printing such an ex- The Peerless Reciter. Rathborne.
%
le articles to e
tn ‘xchange for back r 7 ia No. 2.-SENT ADRIFT; or, Around the
Pape ck xe alted and high-toned paper, you are winning the The Young Elocutionist. : No. 2. S RIFT: OF Ar
large collection of . rt and thanks of the people. , World on y glity Cents, by He nry A. Wheeler.
8 0
ions. 1 14 ; , . . - py.
etal ant, OF Yours forever, J. E. Bristow. Callahan's Easy Method of Ventriloquism. | No. 3.—A YO BLUE JACKET; or, En
yeeTes onthe of hy Ne ‘Goon NEW: : , listed for the War, by Robert tl. Morse.
atte igco mivetY, please nddress O Releson $e ai The Standard Reciter. No. 4. BOY. CARIBOU-HUNTERS; or,
(i (0 } Dye Worth avenue, Chicago, Ill. Tl Gruss, Del., July exc «ay Treasure-Trove of Hudson Bay, by Charles
gre ntl nt nts; yearly dues 10 conte’ ©) Messrs. StREET & SmITH—Dear Sirs: Please | Cupid's Dream Book. B. Cross.
ans q 5 0f this M let me say a few words in commendation of Wi ; of F No. 5.-ALL ABOARD; or, The Rival
be ene ' ; Gores Dien le Goop NEws. Ever since I renil tie ame of apoleon § Book of Fate. We hr Cinbs ¥ agen J. ade ois ee
| May On), 14 tam p np A Goop News [ have never heen without it. : af 7 : Synaits , Adventi Ps a
a ov? 4, ly TH eg No ten Cr etaa 7 think, as you say, that you have reached Imperial Fortune-Teller et Actor’s Adventures, by Johu Tulk
tt ee " soon to be raised. Don’t | the topmost rung in she Iss a at yaune a Everyday Cook Book. Now, 7. WORKING HIS WAY; yore The
ty ‘ ‘anioy. WV. Hesse, President, 1076 | ple’s papers. It is both refined and instructive, : ’ doin rookville Boys’ Club, by Dwight Welden.
pein! | Metonn ts ager POoklyn, N.Y; 7, W. Kinnier, | and if once read will be continued. Your con-| Mitchell’s Art of Boxing. No S.-TOM BROWNS PLUCK ; or, ‘The
th yourine, Salway, Brooklyn, N. Y. tributors are known to be the best story paper The Lover's Guide to Courtship and Mar- port e es a ys by Major A. F.
mchesine fay Pa, WV: Kable, Shady & Wilkius | writers now in existence. Hoping that Goop : No. 9.-BRIGHT AND EARLY; or, The
imine snc jer u at Prien er arn. News will succeed - the future ae rttee in the riage. Boy Who Became a Detective, by Jobn
nN ! ntih er, all valued at $6, to , fours respectfully. , i OR OTE
‘ oe oping press or best offer. past, I remain 0 rh. CONOVER: Dunn's Fencing ces Nov 10. ON iE CENT CAPITALS or, A Young
resi np ; shaw aia aebitrinden (NEAR) BARNeEs, Kansas. Nov. 11, 1891. Professor Muldoon's Wrestling. No. 1 1, WEST W A ie BHO! ‘or, ‘The Cabin |
veteieetor aay tee et | geet tee ak hve Binven Siceoee These books are for sale by all news- No,12.-AFLOAT? WITH A’ CIRCUS; or, —
intl yew Wis bones tntire, Rockport,Knox | News:—I have had a very pleasant . , ; The Diamond-Seekers of Natal, by Henry
eels aah? rei Ad ‘foe un book and one detective | With Goop News as far as I could find time to . ostpaid, on receipt L Black.
ite ae: ty ¢ Stan for books, enjoy it. The Annapolie and West Point serials dealers, or will be sent, postpaid, BP etnend nity onset anus hea: tae:
Tak Cady of , ing. and ‘“‘Breakneck | of price, 10 cents each, by the publishers | on receipt of 10 certs or the twelve for $1. ~
rel Stam reensboro’, Als., has | Were pe ton fagcie Soete the average. P 7 ; Goop NEWS Lrprary (Street & Smith), 31 o Street,
Asmal cutee Farm Ov eeutes -R. Eysten. | STREET & SMITH, 25 to 31 Rose St., N. Y, | New York. = ey
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