, Ss S p yr. WN wee De A - ? SS y ; —( ‘5:) ay ty S : ee a ; . - FN WS & 4) SSS € / ~ 1a J lad | ( i Vie be a : —— & (4) Xie BP Y ) \ ag r A y q | \ * | s \ .- . i if —m\ 4 ; = Entered According lo Act of Congress, in the Year 1891, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librurian of Congress, Washingion, D. C. ‘ Entered as Second-ciass Matter at the New Yori: N.Y.. Post-Office. December 26, 1891. Z ONO eg a” 7 ONES. a 50u 5° sore caste encense%s0%ettontuetur™co%s nsmdincncrnDiarieagescerse tigers sds Nias, Aarne ‘ : ot ‘ it BORO aE Met ee eee ee eee e ot at at tot Met Me wet ee tee aet a eMeet ee ee ee eee Te ee ee ee ed Vi Tat V | . . +4 ie Ol, 4, Srreer & SMITH. Publishers. rs: 2 Subscription Price, $2.50 per Year. 31 Rose Street. P.O. Box 2734. New York. December 26. 1891. FIVE CENTS PER Cory. No. 86. ie . rr a ee a = =|-SASED THROUGH NORWAY; g 10 OR, mi WO wInLION DOLLARS MISSING. By JAMES OTIS, ae “ Ay an’ thor of “Down the Slope,” “Teddy’s Venture,” “In the Bad Lands,” “The Golden Cross,” “Through E iw. the Inland Passage,” ‘The Treasure Seekers,” ete, a Ic eee Lae gr TRROvGH Norway” was commenced in No. 80. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents]. My CHAPTER XIII. | possible for the boys to detect so much as 0m, |a breath of air stirring, and the Olaf 0 LE ANVFW/ ; A DETOUR. |} swung around and around with the cur- } vy By ep Z | 7 g1 \GNIVa> ea _ |ent, but trending constantly ina north- |W Vij (fi E ud s S =s prediction as to the relative | erly direction. RA Hilt i We PY SS bein on of the boats was rapidly; Then came the time when the occu- M7) n yj f rn ~ . LM) No iH ec e ulfilled. Ihe Gyda contin- | pants of the second craft could be recog- SANG ip, » forge ahead when it was im-| nized, and Frank and Harry saw the two | ND WAS BLOWING FA GALE NN \\N ; Z fl LE EE_=Z’ Ss dl = BS i) “ i ciate EI L 2 AUS y, ' Dox: See VSS vic Nt eS ye N T sup . | POSE WE CAN PREVENT YOU FROM FOLLOWING US,” FRANK CRIED; “BUT WE CAN AND SHALL STOP YOU FROM APPROACHING TOO NEAR, EXACTLY AS WE bnttveg WOULD ANY OTHER DISAGREEABLE ANIMALS! * 4» 0 : s a Ot Se ' < : pe . : : , Ye! mettiggn Sing in the stern with a “Tf we keep on; but I’m beginning to| At this point Geikie interrupted the desirous of gaining the information ; but ig skit fro8e on on their faces | believe it is our duty to risk everything | conversation by saying, om he refilled i pamply for the purpose of replying to the fh, 8 gt,” yz.) think they've been rather than do so.” pipe for at least the tenth time since the | remark. : «ts fan Wou]atY Said, angrily. “Oh! “T don’t see what can be done unless} wind died away: It is here, on this shore, yo nave th Bay i Shea s Only set long’ enough | we’re willing to confide in both Sivaand| “If you young gentlemen ever want to | seen four herds. A_ party of Englis weet Pron't, a ot Sight !” Mr. Moen, which doesn’t seem safe.” ‘hunt the reindeer, this is the place to oe wanted to - a deer, rte Pee T ne aud we've ce| “We there’s » thing certain, I’d| which you should come.” | ised to give me one hundred krone i thee Shay’ bad job.» ® Ve got to make Well, there’s one thing ; ; j i any rrather; “ 7 san this spot in particular, | would show them some within two days. ather confide in almost anybody rather | Do you mean . _— font thea tellowa tothe piace where |or do you refer to the entire country?” |I brought them to this place, and earned re | ig.» leaq them dire | . 'Frank asked, without being especially ‘the money without disturbing the best of ctly to where : , they can work mischief for us. 1362 the game.’ niet Harry. “jn your money there are about four krone to the dollar.” “Then you made a good day’s..wages.” “We were gone seventy hours, and if I could find more gentlemen like them it would not be long before I was rich.” “We'll help you along!” Frank cried, excitedly, as he rose to his feet, thereby causing Harry no slight amount of aston- ishment. “Did Mr. Moen tell you that he would pay you acertain sum for taking us to Talvik?” “We are to get ten krone for every twenty-four hours until you tellus to return home.” “Then the time would court to your advantage if we stopped a while to get a deer?” “That is the bargain. If you tell us to stay here till the long night comes, we should do so, for Mr. Moen is a man who does as he promises.” “Then put in for the land as soon as the wind springs up,” Frank cried, joy- fully. “Our friends astern shall have a jolly time waiting for us.” Now Harry began to understand the “How much is a meaning of this sudden desire of his brother’s to kill a deer. If they could remain in that vicinity long enough the detectives might abandon the chase as a bad job, and put back, or, their boatmen mizht not be willing to stay with them. As a matter of course the boys ran great risk of missing their father by such a delay; but anything was better than acting as guides for the men. Siva, who had been listening to the conversation, appeared greatly pleased at the prospect of prolonging the trip while they were engaged at such good wages, and Frank’s decision was satisfactory to all concerned. “How long do you think it will be be- fore we can start for the shore?” he asked, “In less than twelve hours there will be wind enough and to spare. We will make harbor further down, and from there to where Geikie speaks of is only two miles. You do not mind such a walk as that?” “His two miles are fourteen of ours,” Harry cried, in dismay. “T don’t care if they are twenty. The longer the better, under the circum- stances.” Then the boatmen began to diseuss the hunting trip, while they overhauled their guns, which had been stored in the leaky cabin, and, being thus alone, Frank whispered : “We must take good care long that those fellows will It will be worth the extra money the journey costs to know that they are fooled. By doing this it looks as if we had gone out for a grand hunt, instead of to rejoin father.” “It will settle matters for a while at any rate, because they'll hardly go on while we are here.” “And there’s nothing to prevent our having some sport while doing father a favor.” “I don’t think our guns are heavy enough for such big game.’ “We shall have the fun of trying.” “But suppose father comes back while we're ashore?” “That is something which can't be helped. It is sufficient that we keep the detectives off his track.” The idea of the hunt seemed very like an inspiration, so successful did it prom- ise to be, and the boys were in such a state of elation that their appetites re- vived at once, causing them to overhaul the stores for something in the way of a lunch, “Tt is well that you should sleep now,” Siva said, after they finished eating, and he and his partner had mapped out the course to be pursued on this new tack. “When the wind comes the Olaf will be so uneasy that you cannot keep your eyes closed.” “An hour ago, if you. had proposed such a thing I wouldn’t have thought it pos- sible to lie down; but now the situation has been changed, and I can sleep like a trooper.” One look at the Gyda, which was less than a quarter of a mile astern, and the boys crawled into the narrow and ill- smelling cabin, where their eyes were speedily closed in slumber, not to open again until the pitching and tumbling of comparatively to stay so be tired out. the craft rolled them to and fro in the most, uncomfortable fashion. Siva’s wind has come with a ven- geance,” Frank said, laughingly, as he made his way to the deck. | The scene which met his gaze was not a reassuring one even to a boy who had just crossed the Atlantic Ocean and cruised up the North Sea. The wind was blowing half a gale, and the waves, short and choppy as they were, threatened to come in over the broad bows to swamp the craft. The Olaf was rolling furiously; but even one inex- perienced in such matters could see that she was what her owner claimed her to be—a good sea-boat. ‘krone?’” | GOOD NEWS. Far away in the distance, Frank could dimly discern the Gyda, which was making very poor weather of it, judging from the way her canvas had been reduced. She also was being tossed about very lively; but it was plain to be’seen that her crew were not taking quite so much of a bath as were those on the Olaf. Frank had only stepped outside the box-like cabin; but even in that sheltered pee he wascompletely drenched in ess than five minutes, and Harry, who followed afew seconds later, was knocked down like a ten-pin asa “green one” came in over the starboard rail. “Well this is cheerful,” he said, grimly, as he scrambled to his feet. “I hope our friends over there are having quite as jolly a time.” “They are, according to the looks of things. But say, this wind isn’t blowing from the same quarter as before.” “No,” Geikie replied, as he crawled into the cabin to light his pipe, “it has hauled around, and if we were trying to make ‘Talvik we should be taking more water on board than we’re doing now.” “Then your boat would be swamped, for a fact; it strikes me she can’t stand much more of a load than we have got on board now.” “This is not bad. I have seen it above this‘cabin door, and yet she sailed bravely on as now,” the cheerful Norwegian re- plied, as he went aft again to assist Siva at the helm. “T hops she won’t fill quite so full this time, for we’ve got to stay inside or run the risk of being washed overboard,” Harry said, as he crept back into the nar- row hole. “Fancy being here with the water above the floor! A fellow would roll around like an apple. I wonder how much longer it will take to reach the harbor they spoke about?” Frank, who was still outside, managed to shout, loud enough for Siva to hear, the question, and the. owner of the Olaf re- plied: “In ten hours we shall be at anchor.’ “(Under some circumstances that wouldn’t be such a very long while; but it’] be a week to us if this wind holds,” and Frank joined his brother, the two sitting where they could now and then, when the boat rose on the waves, see the pursuing craft. She was falling astern slowly but surely, and there was every promise that before the anchorage was gained she might be completely lost to view in the distance. “Tt must puzzle those fellows to under- stand why we have changed our course,” Harry said, with a laugh. “They'll probably think it was done because of the storm. I wish father could know just what we are doing, for he would probably feel more easy in mind, and might take advantage of the oppor- tunity to strike out in a different direc tion.’ Then the boys speculated as to how long the chase could be continued, whether the detectives would finally be successful, and upon all the phases of the case, this one subject so occupying their thoughts that there was never a thought of the sport they had professed to be so eager to participate in. ‘ The hours wore slowly on. Instead of decreasing, the wind seemed to increase in power, and the Olaf was dashed to and fro like a straw; but she did not succeed in distancing the craft astern. The Gyda continued to remain in sight, although Geikie predicted that she would attempt to make some harbor nearer at hand. “You see she can’t stand this kind of weather as our craft can,” he said, proud- ly, “and unless her passengers are willing to pay very much money, her owner will take her to the nearest sheltered bay.” “He won't be allowed to do that while we are pushing ahead,” Frank replied; “but I hope those fellows will have all the expense they can stand tacked on to their bill, for I’m beginning to believe that lack of money is the only thing which will cause them to give up the chase.” In one hour less than the stated time the Olaf was at anchor in a harbor almost completely land-locked, and the boys were watching eagerly for the coming of those whom they considered their ene- mies. CHAPTER XIV. A COOL PROPOSITION. Y this time the boys had lost all idea as to day or night. their watches marked the hour of 7 nine it required no slight amount provisions last for the length of time we propose staying here.” ef reckon we can shoot game enough to supply us with food, no matter how many days we remain,” “That is yet to be proven. I don’t have much faith in our ability to kill a rein- deer, because the guns are too light; but the Norwegians may do better, being accustomed to the sport.” “If we can—— ‘There comes the other boat! Now we are almost certain to have a lively set-to with those detectives.” It was nearly three hours since the Olaf’s ancbor was let go in the little har- bor, and the Gyda had but just hove in sight. Siva and Geikie were asleep on the for- ward deck; but the boys had. preferred to remain awake, in order to know exactly when their pursuers arrived. As the little craft came round the point it could be seen that she had had quite a severe battle with the elements. Frag- ments of her top-mast were hanging from the spar, the mainsail was split, and her decks looked as if they had been con- stantly washed fore and aft. “The wind must have increased in force considerably since we got in,” Frank said, as he surveyed the signs of the conflict; “but Thompson and Richards seem to have come out of it all right.” The two men were standing forward, as if to ascertain whether they had reached the right anchorage, and the boys fancied they could see a look of relief come over the men’s faces when the sloop was brought into sight. “Had to get in out of the wet, eh?” Thompson asked, in the most friendly tone possible, as the Gyda swung to her cable not more than a dozen yards away, “T reckon this craft would have stood the wind all right; but we counted on stopping here,” Frank replied, determined to make the best of a hard case, since angry words would avail nothing, now the detectives were close at hand once more, “So? This is the end of the journey?” and Richards gazed around eagerly, as if expecting to see Mr. Sibley. “Tt is for the present. We came out to kill a reindeer, if possible, and the guides think this is the best place in which to find them.” The detectives gazed at each other in blank amazement for an instant, and then the boys fancied they heard Rich- ards say, in a low tone, to his companion: “Of course that is only a bluff. We shall find the old man around here some- where.” Thompson was evidently of the same opinion, for he said, laughingly: “T hope both you and we will be suc- cessful in baggin’ our game; but I reckon one of us is bound to be disappointed.” “Very likely; but we shall do our best to get what we came for.” “So shall we,” and Thompson laughed as if thinking he had said something very witty. Singularly enough, the boys had neg- lected to explain to the boatmen that they must not tell those on board the Gyda where the Olaf was eventually going, and now Frank was most anxious to do so. The detectives were so near that to speak with his brother might be to let them know everything, unless he should whisper, which would at once arouse sus- picions, and he said, in an ordinary tone: “I’m getting tired of loafing around here. Let’s ask Siva to set us ashore.” The tired boatmen were soon awakened, and made no protest against launching the small boat, a proceeding which was watched most jealously by Thompson and Richards. “They'll be certain to follow us,” Harry said, in a whisper, as he entered the tiny craft. “That is all right; I only wanted a chance to speak with Siva and Geikie.” The Olaf was anchored but a short dis- tance from the shore, and when the boys stepped on the rocky coast, Frank said, in a low tone: “We do not want those men to know where weare bound, and they will be certain to ask you, or get the crew of the other craft to do so. Now if you can make them think that we intended to atop here in order to hunt, and then are probably going back to Hammerfest, I promise that Mr. Moen shall give you ten krone over and above what you may earn.” The men conversed tongue a few seconds, in their native and then Siva | said, gravely: When | “Because Mr. Moen hired us to go with you, we know there is nothing wrong, | therefore they shall not learn from us.” of figuring for them to decide whether it | was morning or evening. “Now that we are out of our reckoning, there is only one thing to do,” Frank said, when he and his brother had tried | |are going back unsuccessfully for a long while to decide | whether it was midnight or noon. “ We'll “But you must make them think we to Hammerfest after we have killed a deer.” “We will say we were hired to come here, which is no lie, and that you may then sail the Olaf where you choose; but we cannot tell our countrymen what is lie down when we are sleepy, and eat | not so.” when we are hungry, providing Siva’s “That will answer. I'll take it upon myself to do the lying, for in this case] think it is warranted. There are VJ | grave reasons why we should not he fo 0 lowed by those two Americans, and th end will justify the means.” a It was evident that the Norwegié not understand the concluding of the remark. They continued 0 the smal! boat out of the water ,and laid down on the rocks to finish interrupted nap, The hae upon which they had Tat was anytbing rather than an place for a stroll; but having lanaé i do that purpose, there was nothing rg a jp- save carry out the alleged intentiody the two walked slowly up the steeP cline. oe A stunted growth of pine trees Oe | welcome protection from the rays? e: | sun, and Frank said, as he threw h mse beneath the shade: so gies “We may as well spend our time jong for I don’t care about taking ® tramp over these rocks.” I “The detectives are coming ashore. ” The wit can just see them now.” “That was to be expected. and: most likely follow us whenever welt they “T wonder what Geikie will a " insist on joining the hunting pa : “He'll have to settle that matte him ples | self, so we won’t worry about it. “Are you going to treat them antly?” “I think we may as well, for nothing ‘ap be gained by any other course: of bim a By parting the branches in front eme? slightly, Harry could see every moy' of the detectives. e ovel On landing they ascended the led were which the boys had passed, 2M toy soon in full view of those whom were pursuing. “Stoppin’ fo look at the scenetts Co Thompson — as he seate L, by Frank’s side. b “It was so stuffy on board the boat cant we thought it might be more PE " here.” ous “When do you start out on your i huntin’ trip?” a ghey “Whenever the men are rea 1'to ive knew best, and having promis® ‘ Fall us achance to kill a reindeer; a it.’ let them take their own time aa ae “Now see here,” Thompson bead why confidential tone, “you underst@ aD’ 4 7 we are keepin’ on your tracks ¢ fooled ought to know that we can very easy.” “T don’t know of any one wh to ‘fool’ you, therefore it makes or pols ence whether you follow US 714 dur although it may not be very pe you are ing the next few days, unless 7 fond of hunting.” eh!" to that ee onl eryine 0 i ailter” “So you must stick ; “Tf you think we are lying vrew pours be necessary to wait here for @ ke a ta and it might be possible to M@ cou! with Siva and Geikie’so that © join the party.” “T reckon that's exactly or do, whether they're agreeable li Thompson growled; “but we ° now to make some kind of @ you boys.” 5 “TI don’t understand you,” and ° was now decidedly surprise@: oor “It won't take long for M@™ oy J plain. We are bound to ve, atrack until we see your father matter if it’s a ten year job. 5 certal” | is settled, an’ you can be de@ shan't get tired.” “But what has all that to I suppose you have the 7! anybody, so long as you ™ annoyiwg them.” “It has this to do with your ere you to understand we were on this particular business an couldn’t double back on US Now that bein’ the case, WY pleasantly? We can ; 4 mvch more comfortable an ™ the result will be the same went on as they began at “In other words. you prov go into paatnership with yea E pose of tracking father d said, slowly, trying to co” “Not exactly that,” 7 oe of confidentially, and withow lV 108195 of fact that the boy was raphy, temper. “We want the the reward, and wouldn or any one in with us ab ' pst game, for——” ho “That is enough, Mera ge Frank cried, in a voice : h jet bling with rage. “If yee so thick you would have ons able of what you probably oe the ble breath, rather than dis¢ and § wh at wr S = 3 = aS mo the reward vee we ‘a ose we are able to ‘ veniainine close at our heels; sqchine if and shall stop you from fy near, exactly as we woul t agreeble animal. KeeP “ q distance, or we may perst to make it uncomfortabl¢ Thompson and Richara® _- A -“ 49 A Aww Oe AS Oe lee EQ 8 SFO O00 mt et 8 ty oO ey eee ee 7 &. .f+ SP SsdQ Coop MNMEWws. isss other in silence for an instant, as if to| admit that their plan had been a. failure, | and then the former cried, angrily: “You won't carry your heads quite so high after a while, my fine bucks, an’ Since you don’t choose to accept a fair offer, we will make it mighty hot all around. From this out you need expect no favors from us, and if we catch you in the United States, I reckon there’s a law of some kind to make you suffer for | aiding a thief to escape.” This retort caused both boys to forget | Prudence, and in an instant they sprang Upon the man who dared call their father a thief. (TO BE CONTINUED.) —_—__~-0->_——. A GALLANT FIGHT. rahe ential “BY LIEUTENANT Alling MURRAY. HILE we are enjoying all the re- \\/o finements and luxuries of civ- ilized life, gallant little bands of our brethren are busy in the | West fighting the savage Cheyennes, Co- Manches, and Sioux, and struggling with | all the deprivations of frontier life. The €legraph occasionally flashes condensed ©ms of these matters, but the exceed- Nzly interesting details of what is con- Stantly occurring are rarely printed. at is well known that General Miles, +S. A., with a select command, is pun- | ishing the roving bands of savages for | their blood-thirsty raids upon the white | Settlers, and striving to disperse their formidable combinations. The hardships Which our soldiers are called upon to en- | ure are often of the most trying charac- | T, under which only brave and hardy Men could sustain themselves. © be without food twenty-four hours a time, to sleep on the bare ground, to ake marches on foot of thirty miles and More a day. to be ever on the alert for the on cherous and savage foe, and to take ne’s life in one’s hand at all times, as . Were, is the every-day lot of these | ardy Indian-fighters. Well may we| mse to contrast our luxurious days and the ts of peace and plenty with those of F © gallant men now encamped in the ar west. ent a few months since, General Miles, TIndin® discovered a fresh trail of hostile ‘ lans, which diverged from the main followed Sute of march, yet determined to have it up, and such information ob- ped as might perhaps be of use to him | d his command. er iS Was a very delicate and dangerous | vice, as but a few men could be spared cute the plan, and these must be meted for their especial fitness for the Tpose. They must be men experienced the ndian tactics, men able to defend Mselves in an emergency, and brave en above all else. this € dangerours enterprise of following Finan trail fell to the lot of Amos Chap- attach. Scout of some thirty years of age, Pint, ed to the expedition; a buffalo eens’ enlisted in the same capacity, fon, Dixon ; Sergeant Woodhull, of ae ny I, 6th Cavalry; John Smith, and he M; Peter Roth, Company A; Th illiam Harrington, Company H. ing aa men, all well-armed with repeat- an. and revolvers, and proper am- horse fon, well mounted on six good Der 8, started off on the hostile trail, as r order, hanjtPman and Dixon were a couple of Maries rontiersmen, who were famous also oe and as brave as steel; being Dedit; ‘ng as scouts and guides to the ex- arty an. they took the lead, and the little azar ashed off in gay spirits upon their oci Us path. The scouts gave their ing ee Some valuable hints as to keep- Ways 8 together, having their arms al- theiy eady, and never firing until sure of eam. The redskins are especially they “ry by good marksmanship, and if Rood s & party, even so small, who are Miho, they have a wholesome fear the ~°iX men started on the evening of trai] oth ult., and were able to keep the perfectly, as the Indians, for some lad not attempted to disguise the ey had taken. They had thus suc- Y passed Sweet Water Creek when s 4n, who was riding in front, sud- to the Wheeled his horse and came back “Bo rest of the little band, saying: x + 8, We're right on ‘em !” Dixo, USht the trail mighty fresh,” said Ty . “ Ton many” asked one of the men. Dia t undred, I should say.” : Ries oy see you?” asked Dixon. monnpnere’s no time to lose. We must Prairie Just behind this rise of. the Test of’, CM® holding the horses and the ® shot,» must blaze away, but not lose tell Said Chapman, “every bullet must *re, Smith,” said Dixon, “you hold the horses. Quick! we must check the redskins or they will surround us.” There was little time for thought, and this squad of six men soon found it neces- sary to settle down to the determination of selling their lives as dearly as possible. For what were six white men against two hundred Indians? The struggle must be |a desperate one, but they were brave and determined men. Leaving Smith a little in the rear the five remaining men threw themselves upon the ground just behind the summit of an which Chapman had first discovered the Indians. On came the enemy almost in a solid body, while the five white men sep- arated so as to leave an interval of about a rod between each, affording a less prominent mark for the savages. The redskins were now just within fair and easy rifle range. Chapman and Dixon fired at them, and two Indians fell at once from their ponies; then Woodhull, Harrington, and Roth each dropped his man out of the ranks of the foe. Five men shot down at the first fire was a rather startling commencement for those banditti of the plains. They paused, but before they could fairly halt five more bullets came crashing into their ranks, two more Indians being laid low, and three so wounded as to require the) help of their comrades. The savages began to think there must be more than the half-dozen men whom they had seen firing upon them, and pre- nared to retreat and consult as to the est plan for them to pursue. Crash came another volley from the white men, two more Indians fell from. their horses and three others were wounded. Chapman and Dixon fired death went with the bullets. It was curious to see how carefully they aimed, with what de- liberation they selected their object, and how steadily they pulled the trigger. A panic now fairly seized the savages, nine of thir comrades had sunk instantly to rise no more, while others were dan- gerously wounded, and being carried away with a redskin on either side hold- ing them on tneir ponies. The whole body absolutely turned and retreated rap- idly out of range of these deadly rifles, but not without getting a parting shot from Dixon, which dropped both rider and horse, in the instance of one of these lagging behind. “Well done, boys!” said Chapman; “we have absolutely driven them off for a while,” “They will be back directly,” said Dixon, preparing his trusty rifle for ser- vice. “Smith, we must let those horses go— they’re no use. We have got to fight this out on foot,” said Chapman. “Let us get our ammunition first,” said Dixon. “Yes; take your cartridges first boys, and then let the horses go.” This was done. All the ammunition would be wanted. And then the horses being set loose, turned at top speed back on the path they had been traveling. Half adozen Indians rode forward to see what this movement signified, and lost one of their number by a bullet from Woodhull, which sent them skedaddling back without even stopping to pick up their fallen comrade—a very unusual thing with the savages. Even with such an overwhelming force, the redskins found that a direct advance upon this party of white men would cost them too many of their best warriors, and therefore they commenced to spread them- selves out, and to swing round the little squad so as to take them upon the flank as well as the front at the same time. The only hope of the white men was to rolong the fight until night, when they xnew the Indians would be sure to with- draw, as they will not ashy without day- light. It was also very desirable to reach some sort of cover, as then they could partially protect themselves from the arrows and rifles of the foe. The firing commenced about eight o’clock on the morning of the 12th ult. By the direction of. the two scouts, the little party began to move gradvally in a southerly direction, from point to point, taking advantage of every bit of rising ground behind which they could entrench themselves for the time “Let every shot tell,” said Dixon. “We can’t afford to lose a single bullet.” “Don't fire in a hurry, boys; be cool, and take good aim,” said Chapman, The Indians had lost several more of their warriors, yet persistently kept up their running fight. Both Roth and Har- rington were already wounded, though not so seriously but that they kept well up to their work, and o¢casionally dropped a redskin. Chapman was wounded next, though fortunately not very seriously, and soon after Dixon got a pretty severe scratch, of which, however, he made light. *\fter several hours of this desperate fighting the squad of white men finally sneceeded in reaching a buffalo wallow about a mile from the trail which they inclined plane, over the brow of | Every time | had been traveling, and here, by means of their long knives and their hands, suc- |ceeded in removing the earth to a suffic- ient depth to form some protection in the | shade of rifle pits, and from whence they | continued to fight until night closed the scene, and the Indians, after their unpre- | cedented loss, were glad to retire. Before reaching the buffalo wallow | every man of the squad had been more or | less seriously wounded, yet none so} severely as to incapacitate them, at least during the running fight, but their suffer- | ing was to come when the fever set in, | which is sure to follow gun-shot wounds under exposure. As to the Indians, they seemed to with- draw with a sort of superstitious fear of | these half-dozen white men, whom their | arrows and bullets failed to disable, though they were shot at by hundreds, while the ranks of the savages had } | | | | engaged ina pitched battle with equal numbers. “Chapman,” said his brother scout, “I | don’t believe those Indians will come} back in the morning. They must have | lost thirty warricrs, to say nothing of | their wounded.” “I hope they won’t return,” said the | other, “for we are pretty well used up, and ammunition’s low.” “Keep a stiff upper lip,” said Dixor, as he bound up a pretty severe wound on his own body. These six men had fought like heroes. Not one of them had flinched, and even when suffering from painful wounds had | uttered no complaint, but kept up their | courage and dealt telling blows at the redskins until the very last, when the | savages retired from the pursuit. All that night the squad suffered severe- ly for want of water and provisions, but | still made further preparations to meet | the enemy should they return with the} morning. This, however, did not occur, and had they been five hundred in place | of two, they had been impressed with such a wholesome dread of these six white men that it may be doubted if} they would have returne i. “No Indians,” said Chapman, looking out sharply over the plain as the day broke. “Got enough yesterday,” said Dixon. “T} thought so.” Still the whites were too seriously dis- abled to move from their wate protec- tion, and matters began to look as though starvation and fever would do for them what the Indians could not accomplish even with such great odds. Their suffer- ing was now extreme, and they were just making up their minds to die, when Chapman, putting his ear to the ground, said : “Ha! alry !” Hope once more animated the hearts of these half dozen heroes. On came the steady reverberation of the tread of a body of horsemen, and soon there hove in sight a battalion of the Eighth U S. Dragoons, under Major Price, U. S. A. The major was riding in advance of his command, and soon approached the buffalo wallow, where three of the little band, strong enough to stand for an in- stant upon their feet, gave him a faint cheer, waving their hats feebly, then dropped fainting upon the ground. No matter, they were saved. Here were two hundred of their sturdy friends, well supplied with all needed rations and medicines. ready to carry each one of these brave fellows in their arms if neces- sary. | } | } | | Boys, I hear the tread of ‘cay- —____~+- ee ____—_- FADED PHOTOGRAPHS RESTORED. Faded photographs are restored to their original tone by immersing the yellowed prints in a dilute solution of bichloride of mercury until all the yellowness disap- pears. Then they are well washed in water to remove the mrcurial salt. None but experts should attempt such restor- ation. If the print is a mounted one, it is not necessary to unmount it before treating with the solution, A!l that is required in such a case is to keep it in intimate contact for a time with blotting aper, soaked in the bichloride solution. No detail of the picture is lost during this restoring process; the sickly yellow only is removd, and the picture rendered bright and clear. In addition to such improve- ment, the pictures thus operated i always possess a much warmer tone than they did originally, as the purple or black tones give way to reddish brown or red- dish purple, more or less bright accord- ing, probably, as gold or silver has been the principal toning agent. Photographs subjected to the bichloride treatment ap- pear to be permanent, at leaast so say those who have made the experiment. 9 6--———-— Ir mothers did more spanking, most of the reform schools in the country would close. As itis now, there is a demand | } been decimated as though they had been | i | Texas | Harbor Defense | Battleship No.1 . | Battleship No.2 . | Bennington | Cruiser No. 6 | Cruisers Nos. 9, 10 and LU | Cruiser No. 32 ‘ fs | Torpedo-boat Cushing . for more reform schools. Uncle Sam’s Ships and Guns. ee ee WHAT WE CAN BRING TO BEAR AGAINST CHILI AT SHORT NOTICE, emcee remem | fT HILI is in far better condition to 4“ engage in naval warfare than the 2\/ United States. She has thirty-two “- fighting vessels, well fitted for ef- fective service by contests with each other. The principal ones are the Almi- rante Cochrane, the Esmeralda, and the corvettes the Aletoa, the Chacabuea, the Magellanes, the O’Higgins, and the Pil- comayo, These vessels are supposed to be superior to any of ours. The new United States Navy is now made up of the following: cae Condition. | ¢ — Vessels. ~ Speed Knots, AKMORKED VESSELS. Puritan "i Miantonemoh Amphitrite Monadnock "Terror | 6,060 13 .| 3,815/10. & | $,815/ 12° 3,815 12! 3,815 12: 6,300.17" 6,648 17° 4,003 16) 8,100 19) | Built . Built . Built .| Built . Built . -|Building . .|Buildihg .| sulding .} Suilding .| Design | completed | Building . . Building .| . Building . . Building .| Maine . Monterey . : “ Armored Cruiser No, 2. Armored Cruising Monitor.. ; 3 130 177 3,130 17 2.530 18: 9,000 15> 9,000 15+ 9,000 15» Ram 3attleship No.3 . . UNARMORED VESSELS. Chicago . ‘ . Boston Atlanta Dolphin Yorktown Petrel ¢ Charleston . San Francisco 3altimore Philadelphia Newark Concord 4,500 14 3,189 14 -| 3,189 16. 3° | 1,485 15. 5+ "| 1,700.16. 5) 890 13 3,730.18 4,083 19. 6% 4,392 19. 4,324 19° 4,083 18 -| 1,700;16° | 1,700,16* | 725/20" 5,300 20° 3,183 19! 2,000/17 7.300 21 1,050 16° 800)13* 2% | | ~ Built . | . Built | suilt | snilt . Built .| Built .| Built Built . Built . Built . Built .| Built . Built .|Built Building . .. Building . Suilding . Building . . Building . .| Building . Not yet contracted TOP bec, . Built jBuilt . Vesuvius Cruisers Nos. 7 and 8 Cruiser No. 13 Practice cruiser . Dynamite cruiser Torpedo-boat Stilleto The old vessels of the United States: Navy still in commission consist of 7 steel and iron vessels and 1 torpedo-boat —all steam vessels; 23 steam wooden ves- sels, 3 wooden steam receiving-ships, 12: iron and wooden steam-tugs, 1 wooden sailing practice-vessel, 2 wooden sailing schoolships, 1 wooden sailing storeship, 6: wooden sailing receiving-ships. On all these vessels the heavy ordnance consists entirely of old muzzle-loading guns. Of those available the Baltimore is at Valparaiso, the Boston and Yorktown are on their way there, due to arrive in December, and the San Francisco is at Calloa. The Miantonomoh, the Chicago, the Atlanta, the Petrel, the Vesuvius, and the Newark, could start on very little notice. The Miantonomoh, now in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, is a double-turreted monitor, and each of her turrets, which is armored like the rest of the vessel, has two 10-inch rifles, each capable of throwing a 500- pound steel projectile. She has also two 6-pound and two 3-pound rapid-firing guns, two 37-millimetre revolving cannon, and two Gatling guns. The Atlanta, of 3,000 tons displacement, is 270 feet long by 42 feet beam, with a maximum draught of 18.6 feet. She car- ries two 8-inch guns and six 6-inch guns. The Boston is her sister. The Chicago, of 4,500 tons. is 315 feet long, 38 feet across her beam and draws 20.6 feet. She has a speed of sixteen knots. She can carry four 8-inch guns and eight 6-inch guns. The Baltimore is of 4,413 tons displace- ment, is 315 feet long and 48 1-2 feet beam. The Baltimore can steam nineteen knots an hour. The Baltimore’s arma- ment is a duplicate of that of the Chi- cago. The Newark is a twin-screw steam ves- sel of 4,083 tons. She has a steel deck, is 310 feet long, 49 1-6 feet beam. She can steam at eighteen knots. She carries twelve 6-inch guns on center pivot mounts. The Philadelphia and the San Fran- cisco are of even 6,000 tons each. They have a speed of nine knots. These two vessels are schooner-rigged and can carry 5,400 square feet of sail. The Newark is rigged like a bark. Then come the four gunboats, the York- town, Bennington, Concord, and Petrel. The first three named are twin-screw vessels of 1,700 tons each. They can de- velop sixteen knots. Each carries six 6-inch guns. The Petre] is of 870 tons, 175 feet long, 31 feet broad, and has a speed of thirteen knots. She carries four 6-inch guns. The Kearsarge, famous since the civil war, is a screw-ship, and was built 1iss4t GOOD NEWS. at Portsmouth, in 1862. guns. fhe Yantic and all the rest are sailing- vessels, with steam power. j help out, however, and do good service in the event of a fight. She carries eight They could | rsey division of the Pennsylvania Railroad, is as follows: The road between Philadelphia and Jer- City is divided into some seventy | sections, the length of each being de- | ; | 2. Or it may be dropped down from the | horizontal position through an angle of } a | | 5 deg. as shown in Fig. 2. 3. Or it ay occupy a position exactly | intermediate between the first and the} {pendent on the amount of daily traffic; | second, or 37 deg. 30 min. .below the hori- | at junctions or switch-crossings, the oper- Besides those already named, all of the| thus, between Jersey City and Newark, | zontal, as shown in Fig. 3 first-mentioned being of steel, there is| where the traffic is great, there are some | £ one more that could soon be got in fight- | fifteen sections, although the distance is}and when it is displayed the train may ing trim. Sheis the Detroit, just launched at Baltimore. The Detroit is one of the three cruisers of the 2.000-ton class. The other two are now building in Baltimore and Boston. The Detroit is 257 feet long by 37 feet breadth of beam. She is schoonererigged, and can carry 6,289 square feet of canvas. She is expected to have a speed of eighteen knots. She will carry eight 4-inch and two 6-inch rapid-firing guns. The larger guns are mounted on central- pivot carriages, one forward and one aft. The smaller guns are in sponsings, four on each side. She also carries a second- ary battery, consisting of ten rapid-firing 6 and 3-pounders. Six torpedo-boats have been fitted. pce BLOCK SYSTEM FOR RAILWAYS EXPLANATION OF SIGNALS, re eee ¥] > )EOPLE who have occasion to travel \n—7 on the eastern railways have no \8f doubt noticed little houses or towers 7 on the side of the track. They look only 7.9 miles. In each block-tower there are connec- tions with three separate and distinct telegraph lines or circuits, viz: 1. A line or wire called the train wire, connecting the block-tower with the Gen- eral Dispatcher’s office at Jersey City. es lonesome and useless, and as there are no switches, stations, or water tanks in sight, you wonder what they are placed there for. On inquiring from the con- ductor, you are informed that they are signal towers connected with the block system. As you might not be enlightened by his answer we will explain the block system for you. The block system for railways is a system for securing safety from collisions of moving railroad trains by dividing the road into a number of Sidekes or sections of a given length, and so maintaining telegraphic communica- tion between towers located at the ends of each of such blocks, so as to prevent, by This line is used for sending train orders only. 2 A line or wire called the block wire, connecting each block-tower with the next tower on each side of it. 3. A line or wire called the message wire, and used for local traffic or busi- ness. The general arrangement of the block- tower is shown in Fig, 1. Each of the block-towers is sufficiently elevated above the road-bed,to afford the operator an unobstructed view of the tracks, the display of suitable signals, more than The operator, having ascertained the 4} | | | | || | | | | y Fic. be 2. ei roe ie Fia. 1. Position No. 1 is the danger signal, | not enter the block it governs. | Position No. 2 shows that the track is clear, and that the train may safely enter | the block it governs. Position No. 3, which is used in the permissive block system, only signifies caution, and permits the train to cau- tiously enter the block, and look out for further signals. The semaphore arm consists of a light wooden arm, 11 inches wide by 5 1-2 feet in length, painted red, or atta suitable color that can be easily distinguished by een y night the positions of the semaphore arm are indicated by colored lights. These lights are operated as follows; viz., in the absolute system, the sema- phore arm A B pivoted at A, bears at its shorter end a disk or lens of red glass R, one train or engine from being on the 3ame block at the same time. There are two kinds of block railway systems, viz. : 1, The absolute block system. 2. The permissive block system. In the absolute system, which is of course the safest, one train only is per- mitted to be on any particular block at a given time. In the permissive block system more than one train is permitted, under cer tain circumstances and conditions, to oc- cupy the same block simultaneously, each train then being notified of the fact that it is not alone on the block. The absolute block system, though ex- pensive to construct and maintain, is the only one that should be permitted in law to exist on roads whose traffic reaches a certain amount. The absqlute block system is employed on the London Underground Railroad, and on the Pennsylvania Railroad sys- tems. The system, as in use on the New York actual condition of the track either by observation, or by telegraphic communi- cation with the stations on either side of him, gives notice of this condition to all trains passing his station by the display of certain semaphore signals. The semaphore signals as used on this road are shown in Figs. 2 and 3. The form shown in Fig. 2 is used in the abso- lute system, and that shown in Fig. 3 in the permissive system. These signals consist essentially of an upright support provided with a movable arm A B, called the semaphore arm, capable of being set in any of two, or three positions. The semaphore signal is placed outside the signal tower, often several hundred feet away, but is readily set from the tower in any of the desired positions by the operator, by the movement of rods con- nected with levers. The semaphore arm can, in the permis- sive system, be set in three positions, viz. : 1. In a horizontal position, or where the semaphore arm makes an angle of and, in the permissive system, below this another disk or lens of green glass G. An each side of a double track road, the sema- phore arm pointing tothe right of the | vertical support governs the linerunning | to the right. | When the semaphore signals are placed |ator in the signal-tower opens or closes | the switches from the tower by the move- ments ef levers that set the switches, and then displays the proper semaphore sig- nal for that crossing or route, red, or danger, if the route is blocked, and white, or safety, if it is clear. Here the inter- locking apparatus is employed, which consists in a device by means of which, when a route has once been set up and a signal given for that route, the switches and signals are so interlocked that no signal can possibly be given for a conflict- ing route. The signals or switches are operated by means of iron rods passing over rollers or pulleys. ‘These rods are attached by suit- able connections to the switch or sema- phore signals, and are operated by means of levers from the signal-tower. Switches can be operated as far as 1,000 feet from the tower; signals as far as 2,500 feet. Colored switch-signals are placed oppo- site the end of the switches to indicate the positions of the switch. These sig- nals consist of red and white disks for day, and a lantern provided with red and white glasses for night. When the switch or any line is open, the switch-signal shows red; when shut, it shows white. aa switch-signals are only used in the ards. No passenger train is permitted on @ block, after another train has passed the signal station, until a dispatch has been received from the station ahead that the train has passed and the block is thus cleared. As an additional precaution against real collisions, tail-lights are displaye at the ends of the trains. These consist of lanterns placed on each side of the rear end of the last car. These lanterns are furnished with three glass slides. The side of the lantern toward the rear of the car shows a red light; that to the front an engineer, looking out of the cab, can thus see a green light, which serves a8 4 “marker” and indicates to him that bh oil lantern provided with an uncolored glass lens, is so supported on a bracket fas- tened to the upright that when the sema- hore arm points to danger, the red glass is immediately in front of the lantern; when it points to caution, the green glass is in front of the lantern; but when it points to safety, the lantern is left un- covered save by its uncolored glass. At night, therefore, when the semaphore arm is set to danger, a red light is dis- layed; when it points to caution, a green ight is displayed; and when it points to safety, a white light is displayed. The green light is only used in the per- missive block system. In the absolute block system, the semaphore arm has two positions only; viz., danger, or hori- zontal, and safety, or 75 deg. below the horizontal. A single arm is used when it is in- tended to govern a single track only. Where the condition of a number of tracks is to be indicated, several arms are employed, one above the other. 90 deg. with the upright. When semaphore signals are placed on Fic. 3. % train is intact. By day a green fer: placed in the same position as % 2 tern, serves the same purpose a8 @ in the er. An observer on the track, OF eat of tower, sees the red lights on the the train when it has passed. —____-__.¢-—-9-—@————" ‘ THE CURSE OF SCOTLAND. |... It has been asked why the nina othe monds (the playing-card) is ¢4 “ solu’ Curse of Scotland,” and here is 0% tion to that question: dur: In the distracted state of the com Georde ing the reign of Mary, aman namer Cans bell Sttempte to steal the ie if of Edinburgh Castle. He did not . put di getting away with the crown = able dia manage to abstract nine Va" + of the monds, and to get off with them ©) 1. wat country. To replace these a heavy” foun laid upon the people, which be chert burdensome and oppressive, W “ unt termed the Curse of Scotland; my. Seas quite recently, in certain districe mpbe ‘ land, the card was called George side of the car shows a green light. The _ GOoD NEWS. 1is65 WORK AND WIN. ——_ e —— BY MRS. M, A. KIDDER. —_ + —— Work and win, boys, work and win, Don’t give up till the ship comes in, Don't fall back for the want of pluck, Courage stands in the place of luck; Grasp the rope, boys, hold 1t tight! Pull, now pull, with a willing might; “Hoist all sail,” and don’t let go, “Heave a-ho! ay, heave a-ho!” Work and win! all hands on deck; See that cloud like a floating speck. Ah, it spreads! The lightuings flash! Hear the rolling thunder’s crash ! Reef all sail, boys! heave her to! Idle hands will never do. Mark the raging tempest’s strife, Man the pumps, boys, work for life! Work and win, boys! work and win! Don’t give up to the fears within, Though we’re out on the stormy tide, “Weigh the anchor!” ‘Let her ride!” Now the sun shines in the west, Soon we'll reach the port of rest; Proudly shall our ship sail in, We have worked, and we shall win! —_—_—__~+- 0» _____ A CHRISTMAS WEDDING: OR, 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 ITI, THE CHRISTMAS WEDDING. Qs N less than a week after the events b described in the last chapter, Ben- nett Sharp appeared again in Iron- ville, from which he had been absent for Only two weeks. He had asked a leave of absence for this time to visit Philadelphia, and he told Winnie Morris that he was oing there to spend a couple of weeks with a relative. t hen he called at the Morris house he Sund the family ina state of terrible \stress, for the adjutant had immedi- ately informed them by letter of the €ath of the son and brother. Though n days had elapsed since the news Came, they had not yet recovered from the shock: There was another distressing circum- Stance connected with the affairs of the mily, though it was almost forgotten Or the time by the weeping household. N the first day of October, when the a works paid a quarterly dividend, €nnett told Mrs. Morris that none would © paid until the first of January, which Was a fact, so far as the iron works were “Oncerned, for the company had nearly ®xhausted the money for the purchase of ufton’s share. 'S mother wrote the fact to Morris, ‘4nd he had sent on every dollar of his pay x; er. This sum was now exhausted, Nd the widow had nota dollar. Cap- vet Morris asked an explanation of Ben- ett, and he had replied that the com- Panies in which he had invested the fifty Susand dollars paid their dividends ty in July and January. The explana- faa was entirely satisfactory, and the eu was in accordance with the usual atom, He had sent his pay for Octo- a. and intended to send that for No- Mbder, but he fell before the regiment res paid off, M fnnett had a long talk with Mrs. ae about the death of her son, and the about the finances of the family, for ett” Was not a dollarinthe house. Ben- ons Sharp told her there was not the Woul probability that the iron works Tar d pay a dividend on the first of at ,U2"Y : they were enlarging their works ha avy expense, and their capital had ms n largely diminished within a few Onths, wigan oat shall we do?” moaned the poor We “of We have lost our dear boy, and “2Ve no one to take care of us.” Claim. t is not so bad as that!” ex- and Td Bennett. “I have some money, Shall be only too glad to loan you Aas. amount you are likely to need,” said wimps in the most insinuating tones. ik. ak you, Mr. Sharp; but I do not Rides’ borrow money of any person. Be- Bet a} 't does not look as though we could Certain el next July; and it is not even Shen « that the works will pay anything a a afraid you are right, though it discrede become’ me to say anything to added it the company that employs me,” “ ennett, virtuously. Nothin, may be sure that we shall say as ya that will injure so good a friend Way "have been since Tufton went haya’; COutinued Mrs. Morris. “You QOt ow fen a constant friend, and I will © you what I may never be able to ay. But I will talk with Winnie and Mollie about the matter, and we will see what shall be done.” Bennett paid his respects to the ladies; but he did not aliude tothe financial question which was trying the hearts of all the family. He was a shrewd man of the world, and he knew better than to speak of obligations in their presence. Winnie was very sad. Perhaps she reflected that Bennett had been her brother’s friend, for certainly she was more complaisant with him than ever before. He took his leave, and the widow and her daughters fully discussed the financial question. Both of the girls were averse to accept- ing assistance from Bennett in any form, even as a temporary loan. Mollie looked at Winnie when the question of a loan was mentioned, and they decided not to take it at present. Bennett called the next evening, and Mrs. Morris announced their purpose to accept no loan at present. He had done all he could; if they would not take his money, he could do nothing more, he said to himself. He made himself as agree- able as possible to the ladies. He did not call again fora week. In the meantime the family were in the greatest distress. The widow could not pay the bills that were brought every day. The provision dealer would not trust her any longer, or furnish any more eee It was so with the grocer and other tradesmen. When Bennett did come again, Winnie was more cordial than ever before. Per- haps she had been thinking what a good friend he had been to her dead brother. Perhaps she thought the salvation of her and simple after the recent death of the bride’s brother, were completed. It was to be a private affair, at the house of the Widow Morris, and only a few guests were invited. After the clergyman had made the usual call for those who objected to the ceremony proceeding, a voice was heard in the entry. Winnie wasas pale as death itself, for she felt that she was doing wrong in marrying a man she did not love. “TI forbid the banns!” cried a man, rush- ing into the room. Tufton Morris walked into the parler, followed by Major Spottswood. All gazed at him with astonishment, not to say horror, for he was the man who they all thought was killed on the battle-field. “O, Tufton, is it you?” demanded Mrs. Morris, “It is I, mother!” replied the captain. “T have just this minute come from the hospital.” “Oh, I am so glad to see you. We have mourned you as dead for a month,” sobbed the poor mother. “You were said to have been killed on the battle-field.” “T was not killed; but I was shot down on the battle-field by that wretch who is about tomake my sister his wife. I forbid the banns!” Winnie fled from the side of her in- tended husband, and dropped into her brother’s arms, sobbing like a child. ae Spottswood had gone to the side of Mollie Brossman; and no one need ask what their relations were. “Don’t let that man escape!” shouted Captain Morris, as he saw Bennett mov- ing toward a back door. Major Spottswood immediately placed ae & / “YOU WENT INTO THE ARMY UNDER THE NAME OF EDWARD JONES, IN ORDER TO TAKE MY LIFE AND STEAL THE MONEY I HAD DEVOTED TO THE SUPPORT OF THIS FAMILY !” proud family depended upon him, in the second place; on herself in the first place. She unbent herself to him in the most modest and gentle way. Bennett was not slow to see the difference in her treatment of him, and he took, immediate advantage of it. Every night in the week he was at the Morris’. As the situation of the family became more desperate, he was permitted to make a loan of five hundred dollars to the widow. Then he was sure he had won the victory. He followed up his advantage mildly but persistently. He proposed in less than another week, and was accepted. Perhaps he realized that Winnie accepted him in order to save the family from actual want during the next year. Winnie had really beer forced into accepting the undesired suitor by the circumstances; but perhaps she was in- fluenced by the friendship of her departed brother for Bennett. At least she could relieve'the family of one mouth to feed and one form to clothe. She felt untrue to herself in the step she had taken. Bennett heid a high social position in Ironville, and she did not find any fault with him. But she did not love him, and she felt as though she were going into a state of slavery. Bennett rensed Winnie to have the marriage take place at once. When she had resolved to sacrifice herself, she cared not when the offering was placed on the altar. Christmas was at hand, and in spite of all objections, that day was fixed for the marriage. The preparations, few himself between the bridegroom and the door, and Bennett saw that the only avenue of escape was closed against him. “My best friend calls me ‘that man’ now, when I have saved his family from want!” said Bennett, nae and it was evident that he intended to brave it out. “One that I supposed my best friend shot me on the pottle-field, so that he could steal my money and marry my Sis- ter,” replied Captain Morris, sternly and fiercely. “Minister, there is nothing more for you to do here to-night, unless my sis- ter Says so.” “I am glad that what I came to do was not done, though I don’t understand the matter very well,” replied the clergyman. “When I was going to the war, I sold out my interest in the iron works for fifty thousand dollars. I put the een into the hands of my best friend, as I believed he was then, instructing him to pay the income of the investments he was to make to my mother. He went into the army under the name of Edward Jones, in order to take my life, and steal the money I had devoted to the support of this family.” “What a monster!” minister. “Tt is a terrible falsehood,” added Ben- nett. “T can prove all I say,” replied Captain Morris, removing his felt hat, and reveal- ing a bandage on his head. “I was shot in the left side of the back of my head; and no rebel could have hit me there, for I was facing the enemy all the time, exclaimed the More than this, two men in the regiment saw him aim his musket at me three times before I fell.” “It is all a wretched falsehood,” pro- tested Bennett. “Those are the facts; and now I can show the motive. He collected over a thousand dollars on the fifty tnousand he invested, and kept it in his own pocket, thouzh he solemnly promised to pay all of the income of the fifty thousand dollars to my mother. Instead of giving her my muney, he told her the iron works paid no dividend till January, and would pee not then. All this my mother as told me since I came into this room. I found when I was waiting for the train in Philadelphia that three of the com- panies in which the villain had invested my money paid dividends in October. In two months they amounted to over two thousand dollars, while my poor mother has not had enough to pay ber bills. All this was done to compel my sister to marry this villain. Thank God, I was here to prevent it.” “You call me a villain, Tufty——” “And it can be proved that you are one. You are a deserter from the army; and you fired four shots at your commandin officer on the battle-field. These are high crimes in time of war; and if you are not hung or shot for them, it will not be be- cause you don’t deserve it.” Bennett turned pale and staggered to a chair. His very life depended upon Cap- tain Morris. “But how came you hereif you were shot on the battle-field?” asked Mollie. “Your friend, Major Spottswood, and my friend too, though he is a rebel, was in command of the vitth South Carolina regiment. In passing over the field, he discovered me among the wounded pris- oners. He souitarted me to hisown head- quarters, and he took such good care of me that I soon recovered, though I have to keep the wound covered up. When he delivered me up to be sent to Richmond I escaped before they had conducted me five miles. WhenI got back to thecamp, I found the major was there before me. He had been captured on a night exeur- sion. I was not fit for duty, andI asked a furlough for three weeks to build up in. At the same timelI interceded for Major Spottswood, and he was released on his parole. Before Ireached the house I learned what was going on here, and I did some running in order to be in sea- son. That’s the whole story; and there will be no wedding here to-night.” “Tufton, you have saved us, and you have saved Winnie!” exclaimed rs. Morris. “To think that Bennett Sharp is such an awful villain!” Winnie was as delighted to have her fate averted as Mollie was to see the gal- lant major. The guests soon took their leave, except the bridegroom: and he was not permitted to depart. Before mid- night Bennett Sharp confessed the crimes as charged upon him. The stock repre- senting the fifty thousand dollars, and the money he had collected, less what he had loaned to Mrs. Morris, were paid over, and the proper papers restoring everything to its rightful owner. The captain and the major spent three delightful weeks at the Morris house; but they concluded that it was not best to do anything to punish Bennett Sharp, and he continued to fill his position at the iron works till the end of the war. Then he drank so much bad whiskey that he was discharged. Major Spottswood was soon exchanged, and both returned to the respective armies to which they belonged. Both of them were brigadier-generals at the end of the war; and it so happens that Win- nie Morris, under another name, lives in South Carolina now, while General Mor- ris is in Congress from the district that includes Ironville. Mollie, his wife, spends her winters in Washington. She and her husband, whom she is proud of as ever, are as much sought after in society as the most courted and high-born in the eee yertainly neither General Morris nor his wife will ever forget how the sudden ap- pearance of the former prevented “a Christmas wedding.” (THE END.] ——_+-e_e___ SHETLAND ore BRED IN THE I have been in this country for twenty years, says a writer of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat and the only bona fide Shetland pony farm I have seen yet is in North St. Louis. There are thousands of ponies imported every year from Ireland, which are small and graceful, being a cross between a Shetland and the Irish pony, which is proverbially able to live on next door to nothing and_thrive upon it. But the genuine Shetland comes here but seldom, on account of the cost. It can be bought for $25 to $60 on its native heather, tas the expense of get- ting it to the coast and across the Atlantic makes it higher priced here. The true Shetland is often only about 1sss GrooDpD thirty-six inches high when full-grown, and is never above forty, and nother peculiarity is the shagginess of jits coat and the rawness of its bones. In these respects it resembles the Texas pony, and | to groom it is to waste valuable time, as | the moment the man’s back is turned the roomed animal proceeds to roll in rub- Bish and dirt. There are some diminutive steeds on the streets of St. Louis, not exceeding forty-five inches in height, with arched necks and very sleek coats, and they are often described as Shetlands. The error, however, is not one into which the owners fall, as these little fellows are imported from the far East, some even from Arabia. They are costly and much handsomer than the Shetlands, though they require more care and are not so aggressively hardy. The Shetland thrives well here, and money must be made by keeping it, considering the fact that in the colcest weather it will scrape away the snow and find at least a good lunch. ne {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. Author of “Tom Edison, Jr.'s Sky-Scraping Trip,” . “Tom Edison, Jr.’s Sky-Courser,” ete. Tee R Cet ti EpIson, JR.” was commenced in No. 77. Back ~mumbers can be obtained of all News Agents). CHAPTER XIX. _A NOVEL WILD-BEAST HUNT—TROUBLE IN KINGDOM OF BAYLANISTAN, > WEEPING in mid-air across the vast pasture-plain to the north of the town, another and yet more im- posing spectacle was bursting into concernedly, but in_ the same “y* guarded tone: “Are there symp “ev toms of the revolt that, feared the old fellow might foment? dit Nedering-Shan-Soon looked him squar™ — ly, almost appealingly, in the eyes. ade “Yes,” he said. “I shall keep yr ap vised as to the progress of the plot. ig taimn Tom Edison !” ae “Well?” ivi “Would you stand by me and my Br,” ernment here, with your air-ship, 1? : Of 1 "” “Yes,” after a thoughtful pause. ier “Thanks, old fellow! In the meant be doubly on your guard against 4 iz »rise.” And, with a grip of the hand, Neder hurried baek among his guards a0 ida tendcants in waitiug. ; we On the way back to the Witch, 1 eo down and at a slow speed, several 4 the towns and villages were passed, ar eanity young commander seized the Ophol ton jp to observe the temper of the popula passing. The women and children were thusiastic over the appearance of t voyaging strangers among them as outset, but among the men there, noticeable change. They seemed, 19 instances, more thoughtful, § even sullen, and many seemed § i indifferent to the friendly ind : Vt gm ron the quarter a , “Oho!” said Captain Tom, J%.,7. self; “either the poison oO sedition already hard at work among the Joolapood’s subjects, or his hol¢ val tha! affections is of much slighter fib alace Grand Vizier Nee Jona ari ia P Hs satellites would have us believe. ing Then he was not long in percel¥’ een guarded interchange of signs Prince Djarlma and Gobo, from inferred that the signs of popu fection were not oe upon ae - they might even have overheat oon ing words Shanes passed betwee a vizier and himself. ‘t was sunset when the yacht vise reached, through t iting flying-machines and | and, moreover, the deck was & ‘run by the curious natives. They were mostly men, an at that, thongh they seeme ‘ izing wi cre on fraternizing with the nerally> as en b ar dis@ air er but oo ae jan innocently good time ge welt aa e te whic he usual swarm nd hay ov GooDp NEWS. 13867 “ as What's all this?” demanded the young is er, somewhat sternly, as soon as me could speak with his first officer apart. hein aseye made no secret with him of «mp euxious and ill at ease. €y boarded us in such Couple of threats plied, i anther to harsher means without your heen co? Sir. Besides, many of us had anemone ’em ashore, and they seemed how €ctedly sociable and friendly. Now, The ets, Some are drunk and even dis- tobe a little ugly. And one—that atic Negro, sporting the red caftan Yyellow-striped hae Fe yonder—they he is the on y African in all Baylan- swarms a hours ago that commands and could not keep ’em off,” he re- halow voice; “and I didn't like} | royal barge. has been exhibitin alf-e i Lg D3 g a half-emptied all’ et Scotch whisky, such as our ras- 4 old pundit carried away with him.” | -_. w ison, Jr.’s t slouded. SSaeae oy o> s brow c 1 ing ‘ wthe he muttered. “ Anditisonly | 4 couple of hours that this change Natives’ temper is noticeable?” a“ ay rarest he Ship of visitors!” suddenly - Derem ‘© youny commander, in his most ‘Dine ary Manner. “Mr. McWhist, | the arm, and led him apart. | try is in a blaze of revolt!” he exclaimed. quarters instantly. Mr. Scuda- “ony attend to Marthuting arms among “tothe ae im case of need. Mr. Driver,” | ; ree who was just making his | er ia’ from below, “a thousand feet : € air, if you please, though Qan’t eenely pay out the cable, as we Wit our anchorage. Lively ! lively !” Done? Sit!” in cheerful and prompt Ane th Tom all round. ected a the several commands were ie With such swiftness that the leome es } being Visitors found themselves | ‘hj gest conducted or hustled over the reals, wh €S almost before they could At last at was taking place. * and the ie were back in their canoes Ff the i ke, with the single exception What Bett hegro referred to, who some- Mithstangi ently refused to budge, not- Tisin . ‘ng that the ship was rapidly ¥ don’t you emily take yourself off?” demanded Captain Tom, Jr., ad- tard him. aes the fellow grunted out—in broken English at that—at me showing his glistening through a grim smile, and and carelessly on a huge : Cy Waist a6 was stuck through his Tne Bere e2sh. “I am well enough ® Wor quis isn’t the only air-ship qa; .o00lapood, our Sultan, has ot puss. esi tee we are or Zanguebar, where a ; Be , the white man’s slave, but Cs Hallo m anistan.” : ttiselg! phought Captain Tom, Jr., to Rbeenegs 1 One of those lightning-like reasoning that come to us in ettain ; ; @ ’ . i Moon etait, “The mountains of we Te somewhere hereabouts, I he fe) Uch Peaking aloud, and with an air +OW with es eraion, he addressed the are then naip yt You erhaps?” Ang you omali!” proudly. me Perhaps, came with the Sul- nee or other, from Boogoo- teriously secluded African a Zanguebar or So- Rreay true ” f “4. COnfia: ulsomely. “Joolapood has inathe ont ene in me, Matagondo. I Song dnd _ tican prince in all Baylan- The cL & very distinguished per- know Oudy passes of Kilimand- the Sult to me as_my native soil. tan’s infallible guide and shait in Africa, and——” apt Most likely have use for in lom, Jr., precipitated fur € black with such sud- “Ou as to throw him flat on iro: Ck, there, some of you, 48! This man is my pris- Pat yy ond Sp he had styled himself, °verpowered, ironed, and ngly, 4S passed on board the alarm or disturbance, at © of nearly two hundred Te dat ig | Ye | it hae this OPinicn of the Joolapood 1 © Obsery ange country, so far as thallus ion t,o?” Captain ‘Tom, Jr., th mayen tot inquire of his first officer, ' ting Veg duri atter’s intercourse with igi 1 Party, Ng the absence of the ad itera), cussed ic ‘d military despot- e!” was the impulsive , Tesponse. One of the Hite the village directly m aes less communicative Were he said, I gather that Orne woying a sort of repub- vent of limited monarchy in of Joolapood and his y h 8 ene. But he won over the tig wnttllea omens perfected it amaz- Mt a ever the chiefs opposed to a: Tha ; io hee kept the reins in t’s it. From what I hear, I fancy he must be a highly intelli- gent but unprincipled old scoundrel—per- haps a man of demoniac genius, or a sort of one-horse Bonaparte, in his way. And I shouldn’t wonder if this Yankee chief | cook and_ bottle-holder of his, albeit our | fellow-countryman, is a mighty good | second fiddle to his august master’s orchestral leadership.” ‘ “Humph!” commented Captain Tom, Jr., thoughtfully nodding. “1 have re- ceived much the same impression.” Early the following morning, Nedering- Shan-Soon put in his appearance on the In addition to his anxious look, there was now something bold, resolute, almost relentless and vindictive, in-his mien and bearing, as he took the young skipper by “No longer any doubt—the whole coun- “Captain Edison, in view of this state of affairs, I have a proposition to make to you.” “Ah!” “Yes; the situation is just this, for both you and me. I hold the government here for Joolapood in trust, and must uphold its integrity intact, or both he and I are goners. See?” “Naturally.” “And you are after such of that Raja- puhr treasure-loot as you can recover for the legitimate heir or heiress?” “Just so.” “Good! Support my authority in crush- ing out this revolt, and what there is of that plunder in the palace treasure- house —about one-fourth of the original whole, I think, or say five million dollars’ worth —is at your disposal. This is my propo- sition. What do you say to it?” (TO BE CONTINUED.) The Great Wonders Around Us, ——— NUMBER TWENTY-FIVE. The Wonders of the Ocean. LAY HAT first of all, and most of all, \ impresses us respecting the ocean, is its vastness. ALS) Taking the stormy Atlantic, with its vast expanse stretching out from east to west nearly 3,000 miles, and then running our line of measurement north and south, and finding it extending over 7,000 miles, we are amazed when we gain a vivid conception of the vast area of this waste of waters. But the Pacific has far grander proportions. But it is not only the area that amazes us, but its depths also astound us. The opinion has here- tofore been general that these depths cor- respond with the heights of our globe; but we find that in some instances they are much greater. Thus, Ringgold found a depth in the Southern Atlantic equal to 60,000 feet—about eleven and a half miles. There are no known mountains on our planet of corresponding height, the loftiest being only about five anda half or six miles high. In the Northern Atlantic, between the latitudes of 35 and 40 degrees, Maury found only 25,000 feet of depth. How incomprehensible is the magnitude of this great bulk of waters! One obtains a clearer conception of the force of gravitation, that is, the earth’s attraction, as he thinks of this great mass of loose, detached matter held by its in- visible power to the opposite surface of the globe, “hanging on the under side,’ as it revolves on its axis. We need not wonder that to the ignorant multitudes unacquainted with this attractive power, the daily revolution of the planet on its axis seems utterly impossible, as this vast body of loose, moving water, say they, must inevitably “fall off, did such a turning of the world upside down actu- ally take place.” It certainly furnishes us with a grand illustration of the operation of this won- drous power, which the Omnipotent Creator has bestowed upon matter, and is a striking exhibition of His own Al- mightiness. The temperature of these great depths is nearly the same over the entire globe, as it is not affected by change of latitude. The sun’s heat cannot penetrate into these watery abysses, but, comparatively, a few feet below which there is no in- crease of heat except as produced by local causes, as a submarine volcano, which, of course, will often raise the surrounding waters to a high temperature. These waters, too, at such depths, must be so condensed by the tremendous pressure of the superincumbent mass, that nothing, not even iron, can sink in them, but must rest, supported in them as if lying on solid rock. But there is another marvel of the sea that we must not pass over: THE IMMENSE TREASURES OF SALT IN THE OCEAN. By careful estimate of able philoso- phers, it is found that the ocean holds in solution, that is, dissolved in its waters, no less than 60,000,000, 000,000 tons of salt. But no mortal mind can prop- erly trillions of tons of salt. Let us try to illustrate it. Sappose the ocean to be all dried up; not afoot depth of salt water anywhere to be seen. Then, wherever the ocean were, we should find a deposit of salt no less than four hundred and fifty feet deep (450). Again, were this salt spread over what is now dry land, it would cover it nine hundred (900) feet deep. Besides all this, there are known to be extensive salt mines, as in Cracow, Russia, and in various parts of conceive what is the bulk of sixty | about through notices in this column. | } | | } | | how | ghe earth, great deposits on the surface, as | in Utah of our land. From this we see made such abundant provision of this | great necessity that the poorest as well as the most affluent can use it unspar- ingly. It is worthy of special notice that this is true of all those materials most essen- tial to mankind, as water, air, iron, while the less essential, as milk, silver, and gold, are more rare, and with greater difficulty obtained. How much of divine goodness and tender regard for the wants of men are here displayed! There is a common error respecting the disturbance of the great depths of the ocean, as in case of tides and storms, many supposing that these reach quite to the bottom of the sea. known that these disturbances are only comparatively superficial. While the tides at the surface are rushing furiously along, these profound watery abysses take no part in the general movement; and while a tempest is raging, and tossing the sur- face into mountain billows, all is per- fectly calm a few hundred feet below. In these profound depths mentioned, where the waters are of the same temper ature over the entire globe, there may be, probably are, huge monsters—creat- ures of various forms and immense size that have never yet appeared to man, but are awaiting for the favorable time to astonish the world. For we must not suppose that we have seen the whole of the wonders of the all-powerful Creator, even in our own small world. THE MOST CURIOUS MODE OF SALU- TATION One of the most, if not the most, curi- ous modes of salutation is that among the Dodas Indians of the Neilgherry Hills. The practice in vogue is to raise the a n right hand to the face, and rest the thumb on the bridge of the nose with the fingers extended. But there are other modes as equally curious. The Austra- lian natives salute by sticking out their tongues at each other. The inhabitants of the South Sea Islands fling a jar of water over a friend, while some of the Esquimaux pull noses on meeting. In Otaheite they salute each other by a rub- bing of noses. ‘The salutation in the Straits of the Sound is quite a gymnastic performance, requiring some amount of training, and hardly suitable, or even practicable, in a crowded thoroughfare. The left foot of the person saluted is raised, passed over the right leg, and then over the face. A Moorish salutation is of a dangerous-looking character. The Moor rides up to his friend at a full gal- lop, as if going to ride him down, anc then, pulling sharply up on getting within a yard or two ot him, fires a pistol over his head. so PRESERVING THE VOICE. How to_ preserve the voice and keep_ it resumably fresh is almost like asking iow to keep from growing old. Some people grow old faster than others be- cause they are imprudent and do not take care of themselves. The voice should not be imposed upon, and instead of growing husky in a decade it should remain com- paratively fresh for two and even four decades. Patti’s voice is a fine example of one that has never been imposed upon, never been forced to sing six nights in a week and once at a matinee. A grand opera singer should sing only twice a week, perhaps three times, if his or her physical condition warrants it. Singers should have plenty of sleep, good appetites, nothing to make them nervous, and, if possible, a more or less phlegmatic disposition. The latter they rarely pos- sess to any great degree. Overwork is death to a voice. Asinger will not notice at first the inroads that gradually under- mine a voice, and leave it an echo of its former sweetness. a A Laverpoon pawnbroker was sued for the value‘of two coats which the plaintiff had pawned, and which had been injured by mice eating away the pockets. As crumbs had been left in the pockets. it was held that the mice had been attracted by them, and that the owner hed been guilty of ‘contributory neg- ligence,” and so the pownbroker triumphed. |} Mexin, Tex., EXCHANGE DEPARTMENT. etal mage {IMporRTANT.—This column is free to all our readers We will not be responsible for transactions brought All offers ninst 2 ly / We will not insert any for sale” advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-arms, explosives, dangerous,or worthless articles. If exchange notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it may be understood that they were not accepted. Address all communications for this column to “Exchange De- partment.” be strictly exchange offers. > A. Buckner, Jr., P.O. Box 93, has stamps, both foreign and United States, to exchange for coins of any kind. Would like old coins of any country. TOBACCO CARDS.—Robert H. Young, 624 East 143d street, New York City, wishes to hear from any person or persons having one of the ‘finest or bravest” cards to exchange, or Nos. 5,15 and 20 of STAMPS.— Wil. | gold coin tobacco tickets. that our great and merciful Creator has | NOVETS.—Walter Wells, 371-2 Kentucky ave., Room 10, Indianapolis, Indiana, has 3 10c. novels and 10 5c. novels to exchange for best offer. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Jacob Cohn, 669 McAllister atreet, San Francisco, Cal., has boys’ papers, librar- ies, dime saving and combination banks to ex- change for reading matter, novels, books, libraries, ete. SKATES.—J. Friedman, 23 Clinton street, New York City, has a pair of ice skates to exchange for back numbers of boys’ papers. NOVELS —Daniel Picard, Macon, Ga., has nov- els, key ring with chain attachment, and other ar- ticles to exchange for best offer. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Otto Hartmann, 438 Walnut street, Rochester, N.Y., las 500 boys’ papers, magic lantern with 24 slides (new), a series of novels, 10.000 cigarette cards, and many other things to ex- change for albums not in my collection. Send list Tt tn anertwel | of albums you have and I will make offers, SNARE DRUM.—F. L. Moreland, Adrian, Mich., has agood snare drum, with eight strainers and eight snares, a pair of ebony sticks and Key to ex- change for aclarionet er a baritone horn. All letters answered. CIGARETTE PICTURES.—John W. Welsch, 5619 New Manchester road, Cheltonhow, Mo., has 1,100 cigarette pictures to exchange fora printing press or best offers. All letters answered. TELEGRAPH INSTRUMENTS, ETC.—A. E. Smith, corner Greenwood and Prospect avenues, Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn, N. Y., has a set of tele- graph instruments, switch, 1,000 feet of wire, two crowfoot batteries, electric motor and batteries, lerge maguets, books on electricity and maguetism, induction coil, insulated wire, chemicals, ete.; also conjuring tricks and apparatus to exchange for ca- mera and outfit, safety bicycle, separately or to- gether, or any good offers. TELEGRAPH KEY.—Clinton Brainard, 215 N. Champion street, Youngstown, Ohio, would like to hear from somebody having a telegraph key and sounder to exchange. STAMPS.—S. Y. Van Meter, 506 Park ave., Hot Springs, Ark., will exchange all kinds of postage stamps for collections. Send list. Correspondence desired. TY PE-WRITER.—A. H. Lusk,Trenton, Mo., has an Elgin type-writer, 100 5c. and 10c. novels, boys’ papers, bound books, students’ manual for tele- graphy, and many other things valuable to boys to exchange for best offer. Please send list when you write. All letters answered. CIGARETTE CARDS.—H. S. Hampton, 133 Oak- land st.,Greenpoint, Brooklyn, N.Y., will give 5 cig- arette cards for every coin or 2 cigarette cards for every stamp not in his collection. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Charles Clark, 13 North 10th street, St. Lonis, Mo., has a numberof boys’ papers to exchange for same or best offer. All letters an- swered. TYPE-WRITER.—James Hunter, Jr., Sterling Valley, N.Y., has an Elgin type-writer to exchange for best offer. All letters auswered. BICYCLE,—Jack Easter. care of W. D. Easter, Fayetteville, N.C., has a 24-ineli bicycle (new), a pair of boxing gloves, and boys’ papers to exchange for best offer. Send stamp for answer. ARTIST COLOR BOX.—H. H. Bare, Hintor, Summers County,West Virginia, hasan artist color hox, oil — worth $5, six story books, worth $3.50, good novels. chess men, board, and directions to exchange for a magic lantern, a spy-glass, a toy engine or best offer. All letters auswered. : PRINTING PRESS.—James S. Shalleross, 1308 8th ave., Louisville, Ky., has a press, large chase and outfit to exchange fora magic lantern or curios, or anything useful. An offer solicited. BOYS’ PAPER*.—E. Mulliken, South Lafay- ette street, Grand Rapids. Mich., has boys’ papers, several bound books, and 10 novels to exchange for specimens of wood not in my collection. BOYS’ PAPERS.—George A. Vlast tik, care of C. Muller, !354 First ave. New York City, has boys’ papers bound in binder to exchange for best offer. NOVELS.-— Ben. Wagner, Atianta, Ills., has noy- els, books, papers, and a telescope to exchange for other reading matter, musical instruments, or elec- trical goods. BOYS’ PAPERS.—F. N. Hickey, 2381 5th ave., Troy, N. Y., has three numbers of boys’ papers, a small chipmonk’s skin, game of King Cole with di- rections to play, gameof Puss in the Corner with directions, and 68 cigarette album certificates to ex- change for best offer. ARTICLES.—Lee Seymour, 251 Summit avenue, St. Paul, Minn., hasa number of articles to ex- change for cigarette cards or minerals, READING MATTER.—George W. West, Jr., Box 337, East Greenwich, R. I., has reading matter to exchange for musical instrument, boxing gloves, sporting goods, or best offer. BICYCLE.—T. B. Smith, New Berne, N.C., has a 46-inch upright bicycle in good order to exchange for a watch and chain or best offer. LIBRARIES.—Edward Bourn, Geneva, N.Y., has libraries, boys’ papers, a dime savings bank, two games of Tiddleys Winks, ang reading matter to exchange for best offer. NOVELS.—W. T. Ballew, Box 90, Decatur, Ala., has one novel for every five cigarette cards (old series) of actresses, or one 10c. novel to exchange for every 10c. novel sent him. No less than 10 taken. WATCH.-— Frank Moore, Gen. Del., E. Capitol Station, Wash., D. C., has an American stem-wind- ing watch (new), in satin-lined box, to exchange for novels or sets of stamps. CIGARETTE CARD.—Leonard Brown, Box 255, Eugene, Ore., will give one cigarette card for every five foreign stamps senthim. He will also give one - pair of deer’s horns for a small steam engine, cor- net, or best offer, THE Tndiana Philatelic Society wants members allover the United States and Canada. Philatelic vaper free One year to members. Send stamp to ‘rank H. Pevey. Secretary I. P. S., 53 West 6th st., Anderson, Ind., for application blank, co” vei \ ISSUED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, DECEMBER 26, 1891. Terms to Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE FREE.) $months - - - - - 65c. | lcopy, twoyears - $4.00 4iuonths - - + + - gic. | he New York Weekly and 6months - - - = - $1.25 | Goop News, both for one One Year 2.50} year $4.50 2 copies, one year- - 4.00) STREET & SMITH'S GOOD NEWS, P. O. Box 2734. 29 & 31 RoseStreet, N.Y. ~ Contents of this Number. amewist Games SERIAL STORIES. “Chased Through Norway,” by James Otis. ‘The Fool of the Family,” by Bracebridge Hemyng. “A Christmas Wedding,” by Oliver Optic. “Frank Hunter's Peril,” by Horatio Alger, Jr. , “Tom Edison, Jr., and His Air-Yacht,” by Philip Reade. “Breakneck Farm,” by Evelyn Raymond. “Life Sketches of David Cummidge” (Illus- trated), by M. Silingsby. SHORT STORIES. “A Gallant Fight,” by Lieutenant Murray. “Kate’s Race With Wolves,” by Lizzie Campbell. - “Little Dot,” by Mrs, A. M. Copeland. “Butterwick’s Pig,” by Max Adeler. MISCELLANEOUS. “Faded Photographs Restored.” “Uncle Sam’s Ships and Guns.” ‘Block System for Railways” (Illustrated). ‘The Curse of Scotland.” ‘‘Work and Win” (Poetry). “Shetland Ponies Bred in the U. S. “The Most Curious Mode of Salutation.” “Preserving the Voice.” “Are Talents Derived from the Father or the Mother?” ‘Where Hair-cutting is Unpopular.” REGULAR DEPARTMENTS. *¢ ‘Good News’” Parlor Dramas.” “The Great Wonders Around Us,” by Pro- fessor Rudolph. “Short Talks With the Boys” on Trades, Professions, and Business Pursuits, by Arthur Sewall, “Exchange Department.” “Ticklets,” by Chas. W. Foster. ‘Mail Bag.” “‘Puzzle Corner.” ‘Short Stops.” —_—_———s--0-o— COUNTING CONTEST. ——_e———_ ee ‘I F YOU have not commenced counting d ' the letter ‘‘e” in the new contest which 9 commenced last week, we would advise you to do so at once, and continue each week until the story is finished. The direc- tions are very simple —all you have to do is to count the number of times the letter ‘‘e” will appear in the story entitled ** THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY.” No list must be sent in until the story is com- pleted. Full directions and list of money prizes appeared in our Christmas Number last week. You may never again have such an easy chance of winning money prizes. The prizes will be awarded to those count- ing most correctly; so be very careful in counting. Next Week—New School Story, entitled Bob Porter at Lakeview Academy, You can safely tell your school friends that this story will be the best school story that has appeared tn some time. s+ 0--_o—_______ We call your particular attention to “Good News” Parlor Dramas in this issue. CGrOoOD Life Sketches of David Cummidge. ——¢———— PIONEER, HUNTER, AND INDIAN SLAYER. —~oe——. BY M. SILINGSBY. eee > emenneenan XIX.—Death of Paugus—A Quaker. Sketch Cool f25 : 4 \ AUGUS and Chamberlain were sep- *) as arated by a narrow cave. It was ¥ not more than twenty yards across, and as the two men stood in the edge of the water and washed the blood and dust from their faces, they fell into a familiar conversation. “When I say the word, we will both commence to load, and the one that gets loaded first will of course have the first shot!” said Chamberlain. “Me agree to that,” replied Paugus, as his quick, restless eye measured his formi- dable adversary. “Well, then, are you ready?” “Me all ready,” was the cool response of the Norridgewock chieftain. “Well, then—load!” and with rapid movements the savage and the white man flew to their preliminary work. Paugus was much the quickest motioned of the two. He saw his advantage, and as he rammed the charge home, and com- menced priming just as Chamberlain thrust his wad into the muzzle of his piece, his exultant feelings found vent in words: “Me kill you quick. Me eat you.” “Don’t flatter yourself, redskin,” coolly NEWS. He grasped the massive hand of the great-hearted giant. “Oh! Mr. Sampson! you’re the best man ever breathed.” “I know what you are, my lad,” replied the giant, approvingly. “There’s no dis- count about you. Our next stepis to rescue Martha from the hands of these heathen savages, then, after that, I have another plan I have been considering, which concerns the two younglings we have left at the garrison——” “Orson and little Prue, you mean?” in- terrupted Davie, glancing inquiringly at his mammoth friend. “The same, my lad; and I may as well tell you first as last what itis. The fact of the case is simply this: Here I and Polly—that’s my wife—have been married a dozen years, and not a chick nor a child have we; and we've laid up a pretty good penny, do you see, out of my profits, which we must leave sometime, to some body. And sez I, ‘Why not adopt them as well as anybody?’ I now Polly would like the idea, and we could take care of them as well as not, and bring them up respectable and proper—and then, when we were through, and no further use for what we'd toiled for, we would havea pretty good crock to divide between them.” Tears of heartfelt gratitude stood in the earnest, truthful eyes of Davie. “Thank you, Mr. Sampson. Dod-rot it!”—and our young hero blew his nose voilently, to hide his emotions—“if little Prue and Orson like you like I do, they’Ill behave theirselves so’s you'll be proud on ’em—they will, by grundy !” “There ain’t a doubt of that—not a bit , » hte - Wo. wy 8 \ ay x NAVE SS SSW SW 1/ oN ry RESSs— o> EEF ae Ko ZN X& returned Chamberlain, as he energetically brought the breech of his musket to the os (a trick which the wily savage ad not learned), and it primed itself. “Now who shall be victor?” added the “Death Touch,” in a shout of triumph, as he brought his deadly weapon witha lightning-like movement to his shoulder and fired. The giant Paugus discharged his piece almost at the same instant, the slug tearing its way through the raccoon- skin cap of his undaunted opponent, in- flicting no injury to his person. Not so with the ili-starred chieftain. The bullet of the terrible Indian-slayer had pierced his brain, and he fell for- wari, motionless as a log, Both forces at a distance had witnessed the exciting contest between the two giants, and with a disheartened howl, and panic-stricken the savage allies beat a hasty retreat, leaving their dead and wounded where they had fallen. An after- search satisfied Abel Sambson and Davie that Martha had not been overlooked in their sudden flight, for no traces of the brave girl were to be found on that part of the battle-ground where she and Davie had been guarded, up tothe time of his escape from the hands of their captors. Abel Sampson had revealed to Davie all that had occurred at the cavern after he and Martha had been removed from that terrible scene by their captors. The bosom of the heroic lad swelled with emotions that he could not well have defined, but which shook his little frame with all the intenseness of youth ~—admiration, gratitude, love, CHAMBERLAIN PRESENTS DAVID WITH A SILVER MEDAL. of it,” replied the big-hearted fur-trader. “And I’m full satisfied, so that’s settled. As for you and Martha, you can come as often as you like, and stay as long as you please. ou'll always find a plenty to eat in Abel Sampson’s larder.” Davie wrung the hand of his stalwart friend, while the unstinted tears of heart- felt gratitude coursed silently down his cheeks. “There’s one thing I’d near about for- gotten in my great concern about other matters,” continued the fur-dealer; “and that is, I promised youa silver medal, the time you came to trade with me on Rattlesnake Island.” “Oh, I recollect,” said Davie, with a look of boyish pride. “It was after the coon hunt—after I got munched and tore up a the lucivees. “The very same. Well, I procured the medal, and had your name cut in it, Here it is, with a blue ribbon attached, so that you can hang it around your neck,” and the _— handed him a round iece of silver the size of a Mexican dol- ar, upon which, when removed from his neck seventy years after, was found the following inscription: “Presented to Mas- ter David Cummidge, by his Sfriend, Abel Sampson,” It was indeed the proudest moment that Davie had ever known, when Abel Sampson hung that medal around his neck and told him to wear it. “T will, Mr. Sampson, and I hope I'll prove a credit to him as gives it to me.” “T haven’t a doubt of that, my lad; if [ had I never should have been to the trouble of it, So let us join the sojers now, and pes what is to be our next move,” was the ur-trader’s reply. “aves bg Leaving the apot where the forenoit conversation had occurred, they advane. | to where the main body of the UW. were making preparations to bivou@®” the. night. ¢ bet When they were joined by Chamy. lain, some half-hour later, the questioy p of pursuing the enemy, for the Pu di rescuing Martha, was duly he and a few minutes later, Davie 4 two friends were on the trail. pad | When it was discovered that Davie and eluded the vigilance of his keepers; the had effectually made his escape tO ome opposite lines, Paugus, who had fst | deeply enamored with Martha a night 5 sight, and uncertain how the battle rem0" | terminate, gave his orders for the rape val of Martha immediately after the ty on of Davie, and she was hurried Tap through the unbroken wilderness: ” After moving on for a couple ® is the sharp ears of the savages were the dis: | by the faint strokes of an ax iM tivell tance. They all paused, and abtenh ; at) listened. The strokes were Te of some | regular intervals. It was the a¥ 2 adventurous pioneer, clearing # the wilderness that he might ca endearing name of “home. Martha felt elated with a sudden of hope on hearing the familiat but her courage as quickly 582 she reflected that if there was im to that one would simply fall a viet musket or tomahawk of the saver gi a second reflection she would hav’ much to have been able to hayé the unfortunate man of his rat that was impossible, and she thestr0be4 t ; more than ever for his safety. As they cautiously advanced, ; of the wood-chopper became wel more distinct, and finally a ¢ re ures voice was heard singing to the ringing notes of the ax. the savas? As the last notes died away, pre dIINE : convoy, with their anxious an at tb? a captive e ate ci ha oa ps summit of a slight elevation, manded a partial view of the enna > ley below, where the sturdy dy We wuss unconscious of the ely op, DP) that menaced him, toiled brave ine 1) strong arm actively swingi®: Fil picto” F sounding ax. It was a beautitl : thus presented, autor & job Two or three streams, from points of the hills formed teri sheet of water near the cet ake the margin of this miniature vo or small clearing of perhaps abin—* acres. In the center of it 6a we rudely constructed outhouse tion. of the same primitive descr’? was Only the chopper himeei seen, and he, though to al quite a young man—was @ primitive garb of a Quake He was evidently unmarr from his a youth, 7 the about the deserted cabin; ared bling captive inwardly tha? a that the situation was DO she dreaded and tremble 1d. and tender-hearted girl ve , dow? Cautiously the savages onetee? hillside, motioning Ma a nid her nad) and by dumb signs threate int che’, pre) vengeance if she did not— of oe ME arrived within thirty Y®# be disc? ey occupied chopper before 0 them. When he did se stopped just a momen without manifesting t quietude or alarm, an sumed his work till they His cool and impertu completely puzzled. the § never witnessed such & a quiet self-possession in mor before when surroundé and they didn’t know it. The hostile party a@° and sees the vainly, to all appeara ’ “Big stick tough—come ventured one of the In him. a jn The young Quaker pause™ ‘gt of his’ vigorous exertions nelve up, and dropping A alar, 1 unconcerned perpend Ky avity,: with the most inimital a Th at “Thee art right, fret ie thou of tH very tough. Thee can “ growth jp judge of the nature 40 crooked wv 3 hegre f avin mon di 3 108 ber, that this tree was ory grain, and consequently Werlly: 0 stubborn in its grow?™i ye hem jth it may be likened t? mit 5 Deal sinner when the Lord § m ax of conscience, and P d wedges of conviction, to smite them home contrition.” “Me no understand. | OS! me want you for age ort, ag savage, cutting him ses thee “Oh! thee does, 4 cool rejoinder. vB) (ro BE CONT Shay (aetna FRANK HUNTERS PERIL By HORATIO ALGER, Jr. Author of 4 bner Holden's Bound Boy,” “The Bully of te Village,” “I'he Western Boy,” “Bound. to Win,’ grit,” * Only an Irish Boy,” ‘ Frank and. Fearless,’ Aagged Dick Series,” “Luck and Pluck Series,” Prave and Bold, Series,” “Tattered Tom Series,” Dan the Detective,” “Plucky Paul Palmer,” ete. i Jota gol PRANK Hunter’s Peru” was commenced in No, Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents], eotaemnteen Mie viiesa ceca CHAPTER XIII.—(Conrinvurp.) ® a R. TARBOX paitsed, in order to JM see what effect the mention of - this great inheritance would have «;. Upon his auditor. Indeed you were lucky, Mr. Tarbox,” Said Frank, jp, [Stess I felt tickled when I heard of W Jist kicked like a two-year-old colt. this » how, dad wanted me to buy a 'ty-acre farm that was for sale about ‘, &4mile from his’a, but I wouldn’t. I about fetched my plow out right, and re Nt goin’ to settle down on no two c Usand dollar farm. Catch me! No; I ot of this Paris Exhibition, and I aie I’d come out here and ‘see what les be did. Sohere Lam. _ Lain’t sorry die mM, though I was about sick enough to ' Thought I should a turned inside oa one night, when the vessel was goin’ Sty which way.” Frank sick myself that night,” said allt: Tarbox having now communicated US own business, naturally felt a 8tee of curiosity about that of his young companion. re you goin’ tothe Paris Exhibi- tions he aske Suppose so. Sharpiey. It depends upon Colonel GooDpD “T once knowed a Hunter—I think he was took up for stealin’.” “I don't think he was any relation of mine, Mr. Tarbox.” “Likely not. What was I agoin’ to say? Oh, Mr. Hunter, I ain’t very par- ticular about my fodder. I don’t mind havin’ baked beans half the time—pork and beans—and you know them are cheap.” “So I’ve heard.” “And as to aroom, I don’t mind it’s bein’ fixed up with fiddle-de-de-work, and sich. Ef it’s only comfortable—that’ll suit me.” “Then I think you’ll be able to get along cheap, Mr. Tarbox.” “That’s what I cale’late. Likely I’ll see you over there. What’s that bell for?” “Lunch.” “Let’s go down. Fact is, I’ve been so tarnal seasick, I’m empty as a well- bucket dried in the sun. I guess I can eat to-day.” They went down to the saloon, and Mr. Tarbox’s prophecy was verified. He shov- eled in the food with great energy, and did considerable toward making up for the past deficiencies. Frank looked on amused. He was rather inclined to like his countryman, though he acknowledged him to be very deficient in polish and refinement. CHAPTER XIV. THF LONDON CLERK. “QDONATHAN TARBOX NIE i to ag 4\ afancy to our hero, LY tor immediately he fol- up on after lunch lowed him deck. “TI want toshow man you’re travelin’ thee! es; I saw him at hair “@Ple—tall man, black wy and slim, ain’t he?” igh) es, Sir, . «Fees Sacolonel, is he?” “Did he our Wars?” No, he's an English- ee exclaimed Mr. t” With a slight con- Would in his voice. “He nat be no match for “y Merican officer.” Frang, > * know,” said . Wal, 1 al » [do—the Yankees othe could whip any Clone, etion, not but the May Seems a respectable nee ough he's a fight in any of S we who will be €rs when we get to . aos ae eet Verg used the contro- box! spirit of Mr. Tar “Do that ,,.2°U mean to say to moot and me will turn igng, ucts?” he asked, in- eyantly, ® sh re Engen a be foreigners Jonai, Ve won't,” said Se ‘aban, energetically. nlware I os I ™, y8 be a free- born free ,tcan Citizen, and a American citizen America, Mr. ni in England, I 2 mer porn American citizen ain’t a Phaticayy yy Where,” said Mv. Tarbox, em- Tank “y iseontin 8S amused, but felt it wise to : ue the discussion, 8 2 . . ” Manin ate Europe on business? ah P oe for pleasure.” " rable Pile vess you must have a consid- Ix ° Be !” suggested Mr. Tar- y. Modestiy” a little money,” said Frank, wyett ou?” i © my father.” iat, you’re in luck, too. Is the No, ed to you?” q Sho} © is a friend of my step-father.” ot” long a your mother married again. Wet siggy’ YOu goin’ to stay on the «nl bp Yo youre or four months, I think.” Sarg: Now how much they ask for aris?” asked Jonathan, with © interest, Tarbox. Ihave noidea. I had net what kind of al you take.” Your hapot See, Mr——what did you say am ” lo “ No NEW S. on deck, with his arms folded, looking out to sea. “T guess I'll go and speak to him,” said Mr. Tarbox. “Maybe he can_ help me in- troduce my plow in London.” Frank watched with some amusement the interview between Mr. Tarbox and the London clerk, which he shrewdly suspected was not likely to lead to any satisfactory results. Mr. Tarbox approached the Englishman from behind, and unceremoniously slapped him on the back. The clerk whirled round suddenly and surveyed Mr. Tarbox with mingled sur- prise and indignation. “What did you say?” he inquired. “How .are you, old hoss?” “Do you mean to call me a ’oss?” . Bp I call you a hoss. How do you ee ” “T don’t feel any better for your hitting me on the back, sir,” said the clerk, angrily. “Sho! your back must be weak. Been sea-sick?” “I have suffered some from _ sea-sick- ness,” returned the person addressed, with an air of restraint. “So have I. I tell youI thought some- thing was goin’ to cave in.” ‘ 13sso Squashboro?” asked the clerk, in the same tone. “Wal, that ain’t for meto say,” an- swered Mr. Tarbox, modestly. “You never can tell what may happen, as the hen said when she hatched a lot of geese. But Vl tell you what, Mr. Englishman “My name is Robinson,” interrupted the other, stiffly. “Why, howdy do, Mr. Robinson!” ex- claimed Jonathan, seizing the unwilling hand of the other and shaking it vigor- ously. “My name is Tarbox—Jonathban Tarbox, named after my grandfather. His name was Jonathan, too.” “Really, your family history is very in- teresting.” “Glad you think so. But as I was sayin’, when you spoke about me bein’ smart, I’ve got up a new plow that’s goin’ to take the shine off all that’s goin’,” and he plunged his hand into his pocket. “You don’t carry a plow round in your pocket, do you?” asked Mr. Robinson, arching his eyebrows. “Come, now, Mr. Robinson, that’s a good joke for you. I’ve gota plan of it here, on this piece of paper. If you’ll squat down somewhere, "ll explain it to you.” - “Of what earthly interest Af does he onp poe that is to i] me?” thought the clerk, nt Wi ty Ae ‘ \ Wy Ha i “T prefer standing, Mr.— Mr. Tarbarrel.” “Tarbox is my name.” “ Ah—Tarbox, then. great difference.” “You see, Mr. son——” “Robinson, sir.” “Ah—is it?” said Jona- than, innocently. “No great difference.” Mr. Robinson looked sus- picious, but the expression of his companion’s face was unchanged, and_be- trayed no malice prepense. “Tf don’t know anything about plows,” said the clerk, coldly. “You'd bet- ter show it to somebody else--I never saw a plow in my life.” “Never saw a plow!” ejaculated Jonathan, in the utmost surprise. “ where have you all your life?” “In London.” “And don’t they have plows in the stores?” “[ suppese that may, but thev’re not in my line.” “Why, I knowed a plow as soon as I could walk,” said Mr. Tarbox. “T leave such things to laborers,” said Mr. Robin- son, superciliously. “I feel no interest in them.” “Ain’t you a laborer yourself?” asked Jonathan. “T—a laborer!” exclaimed Mr. Robinson, with natural indignation. “Do you mean to insult me?” “T never insult nobody. But don’t you work for a That’s what I No Robber- y; been livin’ mean. “Tam engaged in trade,” answered the clerk, haughtily. “Then you do work for a “I DON’T CARE WHETHER NEW YORK IS BIGGER THAN LIVERPOOL OR NOT,” SAID FRANK. “IT’S JOLLY HERE, AND I MEAN TO HAVE A SPLENDID TIME |” ou a drawin’ of my plow, Mr. Hunter,” 1e said. “T should like to see it, Mr. Tarbox, but I am no judge of such things.” Mr. Tarbox drew a paper from his coat- pocket, containing a sketch of his inven- tion. He entered into a voluble explana- tion of it, to which Frank listened good- naturedly, though without much compre- hension. “Do you think it’ll work?” asked the inventor. “I should think it might, Mr, Tarbox, but then I don't know much about such things.” 4 “I don’t believe they’ve got anything in Europe that'll come up to it,” said Mr. Tarbox, complacently. “Ef I can get it introduced into England and France, it’ll pay me handsome.” “Have you shown it to yet?” “No, I haven’t. I don’t know any.” “There are some on board this steamer, “Are there? Where?” “There’s one.” ; Frank pointed out a young man with weak eyes and auburn hair, a London clerk who visited the United States on « ‘usiness errand, and was now return- ing, He was at this moment standing any Englishman ” superciliously. “Fact is,” continued Mr. Tarbox, “I'd a good deal rather be to home in Squash- boro’, livin’ on baked beans, than be here livin’ on all their chicken fixin‘s. I sup- pear, 1o8 ve heerd of Squashboro, hain’t you “I can’t say I have,” said the clerk, coldly, adjusting his eye-glasses, and turning away from his uncongenial com- panion. “Squashboro, State o’ Maine. It’s a poo smart place—got three stores, a lacksmith’s shop, a grist mill, and two meetin’-houses.” ; “Really, my friend,” said the English- man, “Squashboro’ may be as smart. a place as you say, but it doesn’t interest me.” “Don’t it? That’s because you haven’t been there. We've got some smart men in Squashboro.” : : “You don’t say so?” said the other, in a sarcastic tone. “There’s Squire Perkins, seleckman, town clerk, and auctioneer. You'd ought to hear his tongue go when he auction- eers. Then there’s Parson Pratt—knows a sight of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew.” “Are you one of the smart men of Vad, 0 Dey a livin’, and so, of course you're a laborer.” “Sir, men in my business are not labor- ers—they are merchants.” “W hat’s the difference?” $ “TI perceive, sir, that you are not accus- tomed to society. I excuse you on ac- count of your ignorance.” “Tgnorance! What do you mean by that?” demanded Mr. Tarbox, in his turn indignant. Jonathan looked threatening, and as he was physically the Englishman’s supe- rior, the latter answered, hastily: “I only meant to say that you were not versed in the requirements and coaven- tionalities of rt “Is that English?” asked Jonathan, witb a puzzled look. “T believe so.” “Well, I never heard sich jawbreakers before, but if it’s an apology it’s all right. Won’t you look at the plow, then?” “It would be of no use, Mr. Tarbox—lI don’t know about such things, I assure i You had better show it to some- ody else. My life has been passed in Lon- don, and I really 4m profoundly ignorant of agricultural implements.” As he spoke he turned away and walked down stairs. Mr. Tarbox followed him with his eyes, ejaculating: “That’s a queer critter. He’s over thirty years old, I guess, and he’s never sot eyes on a plow! He’d ought to be ashamed of his ignorance.” “Well; Mr. Tarbox,” said Frank, when his new friend rejoined him, “did _you explain your new invention to the Eng- lishnian?” 1370 GooDp NEWS. “T was goin’ to, but he said he never seed one in the whole course of his life, and didn’t take no interest in them. What do you think of that?” “He can’t have been in the country much, I should think.” “He keeps store in London, he says; but he’s a poor, ignorant creetur, and he don’t want tolearn. I wanted to explain all about my invention, but he wouldn’t look at it?” “There are other Englishmen who will take more interest in it, Mr, Tarbox— men who live in the country, and culti- vate the land.” : “T hope so. I hope they ain’t all as ignorant as that creetur, Do you think that colonel that you’re travelin’ with would like to look at it?” “T don’t believe he would, Mr. Tarbox. I don’t know much about him, but he seems to me like a man that has always lived in the city.” “Just as yousay. I’d just as lief ex- plain it to him.” “Are you going to put it in the exhibi- tion?” “Yes; I’ve got it packed in my trunk, in vieces. I’m going to put it together on the other side, and take it along with me.” This was not the last conversation Frank had with Mr. Tarbox. He always listened wih sympathy to the recital of the other’s plans and purposes, and Jona- than showed a marked preeaection for the society of our young hero. Without knowing it, Frank was making a friend who would be of value in the future. CHAPTER XV. MR. TARBOX IS OBSTINATE. es ARLY on Wednesday morning, 4) eleven days from the date of sail- +j/ ing, the good steamer which bore our hero as passenger steamed into the harbor of Liverpool. As may readily be supposed, Frank was on deck, gazing with eager expectation at the great city before him, with its solid docks, and the indications of its wide-spreading com- merce. “Well, Frank, we are almost there,” said Colonel Sharpley. “Yes, sir. Isn’t it glorious?” exclaimed our hero, with enthusiasm. “T don’t see anything glorious,” said a voice at his side. The speaker was Mr. Tarbox, of Squash- boro’, State o’ Maine. “Don’t you like it, Mr. Tarbox?” asked Frank. “Liverpool ain't a circumstance to New York,” said the Yankee, with patriotic pride. “New York’s bigger and finer than this town ever will see.” “T don’t care whether it’s bigger or not,” said Frank. “It’s jolly being here. What a splendid time I mean to have !” a Enjoy yourself while you may,” said Sharpley to himself. “Your time is short.” “What tavern are you goin’ to put up at?” asked Mr. Tarbox. “T don’t know,” said Frank. Colonel Sharpley can tell you.’ Sharpley turned around, and looked at the Yankee superciliously. “T really have not decided,” he said. “IT thought I’d like to put up at the same,” said Mr. Tarbox, “seein’ as I know you. Maybe we might ride in the same carriage to the tavern.” “T prefer not to add to my party, sir,” said Coloonel Sharpley, frigidly. “Oh, you needn’t flare up,” said Jona- tian Tarbox, coolly. I’m willin’ to pay my share of the bili.” “I must decline making any arrange- ment with you, sir,” said Sharpley, as he moved away. “ Kinder offish, ain’t he?” said Mr. Tar- box, addressing Frank. “He seems a little so,” said Frank; “but I hope, Mr. Tarbox, you won’t think I am unwilling to be in your company.” “No, I don’t,” said the Yankee, cor- dially. “You ain’t a bit stuck-up. I’d like to let that chap know that I’m as good as he is, if he does call himself colonel.” “No doubt of it.” “And if I can only I'll be rich some day.’ “T hope you will, Mr. Tarbox.” “So do I, Do you know what I’ll do then?” “What?” “You see, there’s a gal in our town; her name is Sally Sprague, and she’s about the nicest gal ? ever sot eyes on. Ef things goes well with me, that gal will have a chance to be Mrs, Tarbox,” said Jonathan, eeeeten | y- “I hope she will,” said Frank, amused sympathy. or aie. yer’ sar. geld ir. Tarbox. “Ef ever I git a chance to do youa turn, I'll do it.” ee “Thank you, Mr. Tarbox. I am SOrry Colonel Sharpley was rude to you.” “I can stand it,” said Jonathan; “and I mean to go to the same tavern, too.” The Custom House offisials came on os Perhaps make my plow go, in board and examinedithe luggage. ‘This over, the passengers were permitted to land. On shore they encountered a crowd of hackmen. “To the St. George Hotel,” said Colonel | Sharpley, selecting one of the number. “Here, Frank, get in.” Just behind was Mr. Tarbox, standing guard over a dilapidated trunk anda green chest, the latter of which contained his precious plow. “Have a cab, sir?” asked a short, stout hackman. “What are you goin’ to charge?” asked Jonathan. “Where do you want me to drive, sir?” “St. George Tavern. Oh, stop a min- ute. Do they pile up the prices steep there?” “Tt’s reasonable, sir.” “That’s all I want. I ain’t goin’ to pay no fancy prices. How much are you goin’ to charge for carryin’ me there?” “Half a crown, sir” “What in thunder’s half a crown?” “Ain’t he precious green?” thought cabby. But he answered, respectfully: “It’s two-and-six, sir.” “Two dollars and six cents?” “No, sir; two shillin’s and sixpence.” “Tt’s too much.” “Reg’lar price.” “TIT don't believe it. Here, you other chap,” beckoning to another cabman, “what'll you charge to take me to the St. George Tavern?” This brought the first cabby to terms. “Jump in, sir. IJ’ll take you round for two shillin’s,” he said. “All right,” said Jonathan. “I'll help you with that chist. Now put her over the road. I’m hungry, and want some vittles.” Five minutes after Frank arrived at the St. George with his guardian, Mr. Tarbox drove up, bag and baggage. “You see I’m here most as soon as you,” said Tarbox, nodding. “We ain’t sepa- rated yet. It’s'a pooty nice tavern, Mr. Sharpley,” accosting Frank’s guardian with easy forgetfulness of the latter's re- pellant manner. “What is your object in following us, sir?” asked Sharpley, frigidly. “You haven't engaged this tavern all to yourself, have you?” demanded Joaa- than. “Ain’t it free to other travelers?” Sharpley saw the other had him at ad. vantage. - Didn't you come here because we were here?” he asked. a Maybe I did, and then again maybe I didn’t,” the other replied. any law ag’ in it, is there?” eee should hardly suppose you would wish to thrust yourself into the society of those who don't want you.” “IT won’t run up no bills on your ac- count,” said Mr. Tarbox; “but I’m goin’ jest where I please, even if you are there already. Frank here ain’t no way trou- bled about it.” “Frank, as you call him, is under my guardianship,” said Mr. Sharpley, with a sneer. on't wish him to associate with improper persons,” “Do you call me an improper person?” demanded Mr. Tarbox, offended, “You can draw your own inferences, Mr.—— I really don’t know who,” “Tarbox, of Squashboro’, State 0’ Maine.” “Then, Mr. Tarbox, of Squashboro’, State o’ Maine, I have already wasted as much time as I choose to do on you, and must close the conversation.” “All right, sir. You’d better shut up Frank in a glass case, if you don’t want him to associate with any improper per- sons.” But Colonel Sharpley had turned on his heel and moved away. “T can’t have that fellow following us everywhere,” he said to himself. “The task I have before me is one which de- mands secrecy in order to avert all sus- picion in case apr thing happens. This inquisitive, prying Yankee may spoil all. He won’t take a hint, and I suspect it would be dangerous to try a kick. The trouble with these Yankees is that they are afraid of nothing, and are bent on carrying out their. own purposes, how- ever disagreeable to others. I must ask Frank about this fellow, and his plans,” “Frank,” he commenced, when they were alone, “I must congratulate you on this Yankee friend of yours. He has fastened on us like a leech.” “He is a good-natured fellow,” said Frank. “He is an impudent scoundrel!” said Sharpley, impatiently. “Not so bad as that. He is not used to the ways of the world, and he seems to have taken a fancy to me.” “He ought to see that his company’s not wanted.” “He is not disagreeable to me. I am rather amused by his odd ways and talk,” “IT am not. He is confoundedly dis- agreeable to me. We must shake him off. We can’t have him following us all over Europe.” “He won’t do that. He is going to the Paris Exposition,” “There ain’t . “What's he going to do there—exhibit himself?” “Not exactly,” said Frank, good- humoredly. ‘“He’s invented a plow that will take the shine off all others, so he says. So he will be detained there for some time.” “I am glad to hear that; but I mean to get rid of him beforehand. When we leave here we mustn’t tell where we are going.” “T can’t,” answered Frank; “for I don’t know, unless it is to London.” “Then I won’t tell you, or you might let it out accidentaily.” Meanwhile Jonathan, who had ordered a couple of chops, was sitting in the coffee-room, making a vigorous onslaught upon them. “T wonder what makes that Sharpley so skittish about me and Frank bein’ to- gether?” he thought. “He needn't think { want to stick near him. I wouldn’t give half a cent for his company. But that boy's a good sort of a chap, anda gentleman. I’ll keep him in sight if I can.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) —-—_~+>-0-- — (This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. } a + He » : Breakneck Farm: OR, THE MERRIMAN. TWINS. - By EVELYN RAYMOND. Author of “That Girl of Kenyons.” ete. (“LbREAKNECK / ARM” was commenced in No. 73. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents]. CHAPTER XXVIII.—(Continued). \. BRAM came that night. VEX? =“ Well, old man, what’s sent you up here to-day?” was Aunt Betty’s wifely greeting. “A couple o’ women's tongues, Mariar’s ter hum.” “Mariar? To land sakes! What fer?” “Fer her board an’ keep, I reckin.” “Why, Abram! I shouldn’t think ye’d speak so ’bout yer own darter!” “T hain’t said nothin’ but the truth, hev I?” “T dunno. *pears ter me.’ “That’s what I thort, so I come away.” “Abram Morrison, what d’ye mean?” “T mean that Mariar an’ Amandy agree "bout as well as the ‘Kilkenny cats.’ she ruff was on when I come away, but I dunno how long it’ll stay.” “Abram, why will ye upset me so?” cried poor Aunt Betty, dropping her two hundred pounds of avoirdupois into the rocking chair. “That’s the very questi’n I asted Mariar. Why on airth she couldn’t go nowhar’s *ithout a hevin’ ter reconstruct ever’body. *Mandy was behavin’ like a angel, afore Mariar come. Ye couldn't done no better yerself. When I druv out the yard, she’d got on t’other tack—she made me think o’ t’other kind o’ critters. I dunno—as they hev—come ter blows, yet,” concluded Arbam, doubtfully. That was engugn for Aunt Betty. “TI must go right home, ter onct! Them two never did hitch, never.” “Strikes me they hain’t nothin’ else but—hitch. They hain’t never run smooth.” “How kin I leave Faithy here? The child’s ’bout beat out, she’s worked so eae oe sence she come here; an’ now this!” “Don’t think of me, Aunt Betty. Miss Henrietta will come and help me once in a while;“” answered Faith, as cheerfully as she could; though how often her young feet ached from their ceaseless going to and fro on others’ behalf no one knew but herself. Aun’ Betty had relieved her entirely of Luther’s care, and of very many household tasks, so that it had been a three weeks’ rest to Faith. She did want to make heaps of “studies” for her coming year of art work, during this blossom time through which they were passing; but if she couldn't—why she couldn’t! She might better be cheerful, “T’ve thort of a way, an’ ef it suits Faith, I reckin it will all round,” said Mr. Morrison. Then he gave them a de- tailed history of Amanda’s astonishing goodness during the past three weeks, and concluded: “I reckin that this leetle gal’s got the right kind 0’ dealin’ with "Mandy. Ef she’s willin’ ter try her, I don’t believe but what she’ll do fust-rate. Faithy’s so much paintin’ business on han’, ’t she ought ter be free ter tend ter it. Gin Amandy a chanst ter show what's in her; put her on her mettle, so ter speak, an’ I ’low she’d docapable. She’d be tickled ter death ter come, I know, though I didn’t say nothin’ ter. her,.till T had ter you folks. Thar ain’t no wages ter pay till she’s eighteen, an’ I reckin’ *T don’t sound very nice, , never done we'd pay them as easy ’ithout her as oe ; —ef she an’ Mariar kerries on as they a-doin’ this minnit, I s’pose.” a “Dear me! JI must go home ter onet!” said Aunt Betty rising, and immediately sitting down again, apparently overcome by the uninviting prospect of that home — as Abram had pictured it. iat Hey ye a mind cs “What d’ye say, Faith? ter try her?” Faith called Kirk, Luther was made to take a share in the discussion, an it was finally decided that Kirk should har — ness old Jerry and go down the hill with — the Morrisons, and bring Amanda back. “Better not be in sech a haste,” coUny selled Mrs. Morrison. “Better wait@m, sleep on’t. Kirk kin go in the mornin, “They won’t be much ‘sleepin’ on)” done under our ruff, ef ye wait till morn in’, I ’low,” said Abram, dolefully. é sides, Kirk won’t wait ter stop his we in the mornin’ ter trapse arter no boune out gal. Women don’t never hey no idee o’ men’s time.” ‘it “What’s ter hender ’Mandy footin up the hill, same’s sbe allays does? de- manded Aunt Betty. th e “Nothin’. But [’low’t won’t do Fait : no harm ter take a ride along ‘ith her j brother, an’ fetch her up ter-night. Then ig mebbe we kin all sleep.” az So it was decided: and so it happe® that Amanda Daniels came also to livé in the home that seemed so like an earth: } paradise to her; and so was one more waif gathered into the “Orphans’ Home as Faith called it. “That’s what I would do, if ever I money. A big lot of it, I mean. make a happy, happy home for as many the light homeless children as I could.’ Little did the girl think as tly words left her lips, that this appareD to. Sees dream would ever be hems® — realize. Le Amanda did not discredit Mr. Morti- son’s opinion ‘of her. She had, indae.’ “turned over a new leaf,” and, waa ¥ ; best of all, the leaf staid turned ove™ ato That there were occasional relapses former ways was natural and DUS But she was “just the righy body, M7). the right place,” said Faith, delightee ee Sein of trial had prove@ © — smoothly things were going to ruD. | 44) Then the two girls sat dows and had systematic division of labor. Bach sumed a personal] share of household ont i which was to be her strict charBe ted to no other to perform, Faith nei. upon a couple of hours of study tog@! rand. i “for we are too young to sit own tae 4 think we know enough,” sbe sai sub- 4 overcome Amanda's hesitancy on the Pe ject. é pe That hesitancy arose, as Faith as nected, from her ignorance, and he a ike to let that ignorance be discoy nam It was the last remnant of the the | Amanda”, and it was blown away i breezy common sense of Faith. f the | “Let’s go right to the bottom f matter,” said she, “and find out @ how much you do and do_not We'll begin with the A-B—ABS, ‘once one is one.’ ” a This was so much below Amand standing that she very proudly oi nd how much more she di understan® ore so the ice was broken; after that th er ne ree dread. if rther Sidney, though younger, ap’ advanced than Faith, and he was pointed instructor; so that helped f which ; also, to find that it wasn’t age oT jgno one need be ashamed, but of wilfu re ance. The summer wore away, and OMe up weary weeks poor Luther had to jd al ow his lounge before the doctor wou ad bee? him to be moved. The fracture 7 mend a serious one, and it was slow whic ing; but at last there came & G4) ve pis was to be a holiday. The doctor # ermission, and even sent muggy to aid the project that should once more go fora Ga m in the woods. Not very far trove ® nor over any rough roads; but au ick: _ the house ane sight of § and every care and worry. : Amanda was the last to be ready it was Amanda’s churning day» vas refused to leave till everything © ijt actly the best that it could De + Fait “You run along with the rrutber ar’ Don’t wait for me. Kirk and boys are out of sight already, and Ce ae getting very impatient. I'll "IY follows | h or two more things, and then ved BPC a Amanda’s grammar had impentives bit ly. She was quick and imi +0 her a old prov nea Ww ss shocked her now, She was $ ea her “level best,” she had told a’ ie is thorne, and that critica n pouseee i the put she x forced to acknowledge that in 3 ing as well as everything” 2 a bitious girl was doing it. a Five miVaites after the others gone ont of sight beyon hedge-row, Amanda ran up nt on her fresh gingham BOW" soy, ittle millliner had made for heart was so light that she § Goonp NEW S. ‘a the Simple costume into shape, | money she’s put away for the boys’ fall | angry at her companion as she had been ae On the straw hat which was ike Faith’s,” and therefore perfect inda’s eyes. mgnder f I did lock the kitchen omy ee to herself, as she tripped hh a “But whoever heard of any- Weve ing anything in Stoneville! 4a P think 11) see.” ; hag tered the roomy house-place, fot wing the air she had caught F fn her She was suddenly seized from tae 4ims pinioned to her sides, thf forced into a chair. nN Which Wi thing was thrown over her effectually blinded her to all nh about her, her body was ‘ Deen th heavy oaken chair where it — Bon ae and she was left to rumi- the roo ston, while her’ assailant a ate thought it was some rough Bless €, though of whose she could the per €n all too soon she realized two Of persons—for she now ‘ging 7° had attacked her were nda had nouse- Once in her life, se eee ear iso ted vine’, ®. tramp; only once. llage of Stoneville and its ny) Was iv, + é ° vee | Ption from, th quite Arcadian in its € pest of other country- Aman}! Stoneville ! Cent, to ‘fil One experience had been With ll her otherwise fearless s . ae Unreasoning terror of the It's 7 ‘ Mps—it’s tramps !” thought » telapsing into her old fright. “I hear ‘em—I uy) Mees rittin’ e i “6 of ' - Sick [ be! Ing-spoons! Oh! how €N she thought no more. _—— CHAPTER xxIx. Ty A AND THE BURGLARS. |. Wag Nain wy long that Amanda re- Boing on Wireescious of what was thin thethouse, but in re- Ne n eared, she was apt to ila alas “an age,” ca nt £0 save te had worked rapidly, and : ‘nity me or from some remnant " y had Ad algo Securing it in any way. all door an in their aa oors open in their Yering from her face and full upon it. Wakening for Amanda, ugh, her fear died, and Rhye, instead. eek ody treat her so!” ise te Up, and found herself ach Voted 4, S8!e to release herself MM wo,’ Only the upper part py ted, and that her ere free, auntie herself! If she Show those rascals that Was a girl who could whi ; She looked at the er gt in Ch bound her, and her t h2 clothe mn as she saw that ib ng ee arms abo: Then she began } till” out in their bands, Her She felt them moving 8, teneq 1)” was to reach the and i the rope, with one of Chaiy “weet it. Once free of pe “would show them!” : listen ; but to put al) meyon the endeavor rong, young body. thee’ Sha pulled one Nia ough the loop, then ®W seconds she stood Zzy, but the wind € wide kitchen, and She made her way »8Md drenched her face tresing liquid. Mist from her brain, eV anger, ‘ead in her beloved cee mind. In A, One ; 2 had been a_hero- ¥ Wott . credibly brave deeds. beraitets, She ae these fictitious ea 4nd yy a always longed to ing @ it. OW she had a chance. 8p th e POisel eg.” Clothes line under her prossed the re Kirk kept his aded, Tt had been a 1, the under- ; the whole Ng the summer in apered her feminine she was able to eves shut! But. tion allowed her | &@ score equal | of eho atulated 1er- 1 Ss 2 ‘ ect, he meant to eoked and ready for m fatty up the stairs. ey rein Faith’s if ‘they find the the silver, old | f he ledge above him, and without waiting to | merely tossed the | excited “heroine” did not Withoo tated cloth over the girl’s | h nat: & | below. face | |after taking Luther to the wood, | clothes !” | The thought made her doubly furious. | The last vestige of hesitation fled. | With a bound she was_ in the room and revolver. They stood before the old- fashioned chest of drawers, rummaging lamong Faith's few, dainty belongings. In a cloth on the floor had been placed | thought that it was because he was dead. | the precious wedding-spoons, and the few | | valuables that the quaint old rooms still | that! One of the men ‘had already | the way into the house, and up to Faith’s | contained. secured the knitted silken purse, and was | hoard with | |} counting out Faith’s modest a greediness that fora moment deafened his ears to Amanda’s approach. “Drep that!” cried a shrill voice at the thief’s elbow, and he turned to find the | muzzle of a pistol unpleasantly near his face. He started back, with the thought ithat he was caught, and attempted to irun. Though he and his comrade had searched the house, and found it appar- ently unoccupied, save by the girl they | had left unconscious on the floor below, ihe now believed that they had been mis- taken. That it was the same girl, never entered his mind. As he darted back, Amanda shouted: “Kirk! Kir-rk! Lu-ther! I’ve got. ’em!” That Kirk and Luther were quite be- | yond hearing she very well knew, but the | burglars did not. It was only a woman- lish stratagem on Amanda’s part, but it succeeded; for at the repetition of the ear-splitting ery, one thief started for the window, and an instant later had sprung out. Almost as instantly the girl reached the |see if it were necessary, fired down into | the rose-bush, and, vaguely at the heap |of tattered humanity which had fallen jthere, Then she wheeled round upon the | other man. “Give up that money, or I'll kill you!” She looked quite capable of doing it; her eyes blazing, and_ her well developed | figure drawn to its fullest height. | The end of the revolver was again dan- | gérously near, ; | The thief backed into acorner, Amanda |followed him, If he hada weapon, he | did not try to use it. He was, indeed, a /commoen, unarmed “tramp,” but that the Kade. “Give it up! Quick, before they get | here !” | udden breeze springing | In the pause that followed her words, a groan came up to them from the rose-bush Amanda's courage increased, if ae Hate poRRey Ty: The burglar’s waned, “Quick ! Her strong white finger was on the trig- rer, The man threw down the purse. “Put your hands behind you, and turn round,” The man stood still. The panic which had seized him and deprived him of cour- age, seemed also to have robbed him of understanding. “Click!” The threatened round. “Cross your wrists !” Why the ruffian did not seize her own hands instead of obeying her, was always after a puzzle to Amanda. But he did not. She hada slip noose ready, and in five minutes the binder was bound! How the girl enjoyed winding and tightening that rope about the hands which had pin- ioned her own, could not be told. Then she tumbled him on his face, and began to tie his feet together. He resisted, and she placed the cold re- volver against the back of his neck. After that he lay perfectly still. Whenshe had made him as secure as she could, she ran down and out of the house, She had caught the sound of wheels, and knew that it was Kirk returning with Jerry and the doctor’s phaeton, Y She sprang tothe top of the stone wall, and waved her arms wildly. Kirk saw her and thought that she was crazy. Then he concluded that the house must be on fire. Whatever was the mat- ter, she needed him at once. Jerry bounded forward, and the young farmer jumped to the ground. “What is the matter?” “Burglars! I’ve got a couple!” man turned sullenly room to |} | angrily “Amanda Daniels! Burglars in Stone- ville!” “Burglars in Breakneck They're all right, though. em. Kirk looked at the girl incredulously. That anything of the exciting nature which she intimated could have occurred in that remote region, and during: the brief while that had elapsed since he drove out of the yard with Luther, was a tax upon his imagination. “Come and see!” said Amanda, flushing at his evident disbelief of her statement. “Go to the stable, Jerry!” ordered Kirk, and the well-trained animal obeyed; while his master hurried up the path, by the side of the girl. She carried her head Farmhouse ! I've caught disdainfully, and she was. now almost as | for a “heroine” to be. treated ! | air of a tragedy queen she marched to the |side of the house, and pointed into the covering the surprised burglars with her | rosebush. do, | pick some berries.’ at her burglars. This was a pretty way Vith the “er “here’s one of ’em !” Kirk looked, and whistled. the bush did The man in not move, and the lad wait for a trifle like from the bush and lea Amanda did not She turned room. The second burglar had rolled over on his side, and turned his angry eyes upon them as they entered. i “There's ct’other! Next time I tell ye anything, ye’ll believe me, I reckin!" ~ When Kirk could recover his breath sufficiently to speak, he ejaculated, with | profound earnestness : “Amanda Daniels, you’re—a trump It was his highest tribute of praise. In spite of herself the girl was touched. But she did not intend to let him that. “Well, I guess everything’s done now; so I will goto the woods. We calculate to have lunch about noon.” “But, Amanda—say, Amanda!” She was half-way down stairs, but she stopped to listen. " “Aren't you going to help me see to} them? I must goto the village and get the constable.” “I’ve done my share; I’ve caught ’em. And I—I’m only—a bound-out-girl? !” Description cannot convey the wither- ing sarcasm of those words, as they fell from Amanda’s lips. Then she resumed her dignified descent, and presently dis- appeared in the direction of the woods. “Why, Amanda, how late you as the watched for gingham gown at last appeared throvgh the shrubbery. “Yes, [am late. I had considerable to I saw Kirk.” The new-comer threw herself down on the pine-needles that covered the ground. “My! how warm it is! I’m real tired.” “I’m sorry. I ought not to have left you with so much to do,” Faith looked smilingly at the flushed face of her companion. Was it possible that there were traces of tears on the girl’s cheeks? “Don’t you feel well, Amanda? Has anything happened to hurt you?” “Yes, I’m well. I never was sick. that. _Come, Cyril; let’s go You know She got up, and taking the little boy’s hand, wandered away into the depths of the forest. Faith looked after Amanda wistfully. Then she turned to Luther. “What do you suppose it can be that has happened to trouble that girl? She was as gay as a lark when I left the house.” “Nothin’. She’s got a tantrum, most like,” answered Luther. Having thus disposed of the aggrieved maiden’s sensi- bility, he returned to his story paper, and Faith went on with her sketch. When an hour passed and Kirk had not returned, Faith got up and went in search of Amanda. “Tell me, dear, did you and my brother have a tiff? Did he say when he was coming back?” “He didn’t say anything about coming back. He did say he was going to the village.” “Oh! then I suppose some business mat- ter has arisen that had to be attended to right away.” “T suppose so.” “Then, when it is lunch time, we won’t wait for him. Ill put his share aside and save it.” “-"l'would bea good plan. He’ll most likely be hungry, when—when he comes.” “Yes. He's sure to be that. He always is. Bless his dear heart!” Amanda sniffed. At that moment she had no waste blessings to bestow on Kirk’s unappreciative heart. Nothing more was said about him. Faith was certain that in some way her twin had offended the sensitive spirit of the romantic Amanda; but she was equal- ly sure that he had not intended to do so. She began to be angry with the girl. The three boys, and Luther, were not troubled with any sentimentality, so they soon demanded luncheon; which to them was the only part of a picnic worth men- tioning. It was brought out and eaten, but everybody missed Kirk: and Luther plainly told Amanda that if she wanted to sulk she had better go home. | To retaliate, she picked up his story- paper, and walked off with it; knowing he did not dare to try his weak limb by pursuing her. “Seems to me this isa picnic without any nie!” said Teddy, at length. doesn't somebody say something funny? Oh! Goody! There comes Kirk !” The three lads ran to meet their brother, but if in the expectation that he at. least would be “funny, they were disappointed. He was sober and tired. see | are ! | Did you see Kirk?” was Faith's greeting, | “Why 1is71 “Here’s your dinner, Kirk. you so?” Faith uncovered the carefully saved dainties, and spread them before her twin. “Thank you; but I don’t want it. I can’t eat. I’m too tired.” “Tired? On a holiday? of such a thing! | doing?” “Why, you know.” “T don’t know.” “Hastn’t Amanda told you?” “She’s told us nothing. She, too, seems to be tired, or——” “Pudjiky !” said Luther, | Kirk got up, and went to where Amanda |sat pretending to read her paper. Be- } neath the rim of her hat he saw two tears | roll down. “Say, Amanda, won't you overlook it? at was so dumfounded that I couldn’t | What kept I never heard What have you been helieve my eyes. I’m awful sorry, but I didn’t really doubt your word. I don’t see how in ‘the world you ever did it! You, a girl! Why Ihad all I wanted of it, after you left me.” “T thought you would. I’m glad of it.” “You’re the pluckiest girl I ever heard of. All Stoneville is talking about you, and praising you to the skies. Come, make up. Then I’ll tell you my part. It seems a very little part, after yours.” “What in the world are you two talk- ing about?” demanded Faith. The whole party, save Luther, had gath- |}ered about the two under the beech tree. | They had no delicacy about intruding. “Do you mean to tell me, honest In- ' dian, that Amanda hasn’t told you about the burglars?” “Burglars!” shrieked Faith, with such junfeigned astonishment, that Kirk did not repeat his question. “Well! Je-hu-whittaker! Shake hands, old girl! Amanda, you’re a bigger trump than I thought you were.” Kirk held out his hand. Then Amanda decided to shake it. (TO BE CONTINUED.) 4 _0-o____—_—_ BUTTERWICK’S PIG. BY - oo MAX ADELER. (x7 E_ bought that pig.” said Mr. e \\/, Butterwick to me, alluding. to “\VW~ his small experience ‘as a pork “eo raiser, “as a matter of economy. Mrs. Butterwick said we could feed him on any odds and ends of old slop that accumulated, and at the end of the season we could get enough meat out of him to last us all winter, But there was no money in it, and I often think that the reason was that when I bought him I picked ont a pig whose gastric juice was too active. I didn’t think toask the man about the pig’s gastric juice. He was the hungriest pig I ever saw. There was something supernatural about his appe- tite. I’d take him down a couple of buckets of slop, and when he’d eat it, I'd chuck in half a barrel of rotten apples, and he’d stow them away. Then I’d give him half a bushel of corn and three or four gallons of sour milk, and when they were down he’d lookup at me as much as to say, “You ain’t half a man, to be starving a poor, miserable brute like me to death.” He would eat four times his bulk every twenty-four hours, and then besides, he’d gobble up ary cats, or chick- ens, or stray dogs that wandered into his en. Pe One time, I know, I told Mrs. Butter- wick that I was going to give that pig one square meal, if it put me into bank- ruptey. And so I earried him up into the granary and set him loose among eight bushels of apples and eleven bushels of unshelled corn. 3 “In a day or two I dropped in to see how he was making out, and | found that he had cleaned up the apples and the corn, had eaten the cobs, and was about half- through with the wooden part of a mow- ing-machine. I know mighty well he’d ‘ve eaten up that granary, from the foun- dation to the shingles, if he’d only had time. And the next day, when Miles, the butcher, was over here, he took a look in the pen, and he says: | : : ““Butterwick, that's a nice pig, but you ought to fatten him up; he’s falling off for want of food.’” ‘ “And then, you know, the blamed pig ’d get so hungry at night, two or three hours after eating a barrel of slop, that he’d eat a board out of the side of the pen and go roaming around after some- thing to stay his stomach till morning. Maybe he’d drop in on Pitman’s potato- patch, and root out every potato im the entire plantation, or he’d call at Keyser’s, and eat up twelve hundred head of cab- bage or something. And they’d find him in the morning, leaning up against the fence, trying to think where he could go to scare up a decent breakfast. He was the blamedest pig I ever saw. “Then they’d send for me, and I’d tie a string to his leg and try to lead him home, If I wanted to go south, he'd feel 13782 GoonDpD NEWS. an impulse to go north; or if I wanted to roceed eastward, he felt it to be his duty o pull toward the west. And if he saw any corn in a field on the way home, he'd ush in under the fence betore I vould stop hie nen when I’d climb over so’s to humor him, he’d change his mind, and crawl out and get the rope all tangled in the fence. And when we came to a tree he’d always walk around it seven or eight times, ard wind bimself up tight; and then he’d seem to think the only way to get loose was to eat something, and maybe he’d put away a couple of bricks or a paving stone. “But he Rope aad thinner. I dunno how it was. ’rhaps he had something on his mind, or he felt remorse. Any way, somehow he fell off in flesh; but the way he kept up his appetite was amazing. Now, how does a pig eat a tub full of things, and then, when you measure him he won't half-fill the tub? It gets me. I don't pretend to understand it. Only I know mighty well there’s no money in it. Lemme see; that pig cost me about— less see; counting corn, and apples, and milk, and damages, and trouble, I should say about eight hundred dollars. I paid four for him—that’s eight hundred and four. Well, when we killed him he anned out, I should say, about fifteen ollars worth of the meanest hams, and sausages, and shoulders you ever laid your eyes on. Absolutely not enough fat on him to grease a griddle with. We had to buy lard to fry the sausages with. Positive fact; that meat cost us about twenty dollars a pound, too. So that lets me out on hogs. I raise no more stock. The only time that pig ever did get toa decent size was one day he upset a bee- hive, hunting for honey, and all the bees turned in and stung him so that he swelled up all over. I wish I'd a-sold him then. But that chance is gone. And no more pigs for me, if you please. I'll buy my pork slaughtered. Now wouldn’t you, if you was me?” I don’t vouch for Butterwick’s story. I only repeat it as he gave it to me. “G00D NEWS” PARLOR DRAMAS. In conformity with the wishes of many of our readers, we commence below a new department, for the purpose of affording home amusement during the winter, Tomake the entertainments attractive to old and young alike, we have impressed all of our leading authors into the service, each one contri- buting his or her share, in order to give as much variety as possible to the sketches. NUMBER ONE. CITY WAIFS. CHARACTERS: Dick Long, a shoe-black. Augustus, a rich boy. Minnie, a street-sweeper. Old Man, a banker. Enter Dick Long with hisbox. Takes his stand at a street-corner. Dick.-- Well, I’m blest! Times must be hard when such swells as that ’ere gent as just passed won't have his under- standing shined up. Needs it enough, I guess—urider and upper too. If I don’t do a better biz to day than I did yisterday, my old lady to home she won't git tea an’ toast epee: and if many more banks bust I might as well shetu a Hillo! here comes Bright Eyes! Poor little gal! Maybe she thinks I’ve got a penny for her. There ain't many such nice little gals as Bright Eyes if she do have to sweep the crossings. Now, if she had an old lady at home like mine, why—— Enter Minnie, broom in hand. Minnie.—Oh, dear! I can’t git a bit, an’ I’ve swep’ an’ swep’ ever since seven o’clock. Granny’ll kill me whenI go home. Dick.—Poor little midget! I wish I could help you, but I’m clean broke my- self, besides bein’ new to the biz. I shill hev to go back to the newspaper trade. You see, the banks is bustin’. Minnie.—Do vou mean tumblin’ down? Dick.—Ay, Bright Eyes, in their in- sides; the gold is tumblin’ down, and the men that take care of it are shettin’ up shop. That’s what's the matter with us—hard times. Come now, did granny ane heavy last night? innie—I guess she did! Look there (showing marks on her arm.) She beat me right over the head. Didn’t it ache all night, though? Dick.—Poor child! granny as is a granny. If I go home without a cent she'll jest say, “Never you mind, Dickey, we've got bread an’ water, an’ the Lord’ll take care of us, Minnie.—Don’t I wish she was my granny, that’s all! Dick.—Look out, Bright Eyes! here comes aswell! My! but ain’t he got u in style! You jest stan’ there an’ loo your prettiest. I guess he’ll drop a penny. Minnie (beginning to sweep, Dat ahe - ing her head).—It’s them sort as never gives—ladies with big, long trains, and wey, I’ve got a has so much o’ their up they can’t put their Oh, dear! I’m all that. The dresses to hol hands in their pockets. so hungry! Enter Augustus. Aug. (to Dick) —Hello, riffraff! Dick.—Who you speakin’ to? Aug.—You, fellow! Do you see that spot of mud on the extreme end of the toe of my boot? Manipulate your brush in such a manner as to obliterate the dirt, and be quick about it. Dick.—Well, my name ain’t riffraff, nor fellow—but biz is biz, and I ain’t partikiler who I shines for, if that’s what you mean by ’nipulate an’ ’literate. Put your foot on the block. Aug.—There it is, and see you do your work well. Make ’em shine like a drat. class looking-glass—that's what you were put here for—work. Dick.—That’s so, my boy. Aug.—Look here, young scallawag, don’t you call me boy. Do you know who Iam? I live on Fifth avenue. My father is a great financier, Dick (still at work).—What! ain’t he bust up yit? Aug.—How do you know who he is? Burst up! Why, he owns half New York. ne can't fall, you blockhead—he’s too rich. Dick.—How’d he make his money? Aug.—That’s none of your business; and look here—let me tell you that when you work for gentlemen, it’s your place to hold your tongue, and let them talk. Do you Cao what you were made for? Dick.—Well, granny says—— Aug.—Hang Grating | You were made to work for us—black bcots, shine stoves, carry dirt, break stones, run at our beck and call, and, when you ride, ride be- hind. (Dick squares off, brush in hand.) Here, none o’ that! I see a policeman coming, and I’ll tell him to put_you where gentlemen are scarce, if you don’t show better manners. Why, you may consider it an honor to black my boots, you young rascal. (Minnie leaves_her sweeping and creeps toward them.) How much for the job, and be quick about it? Dick.—Ten cents. I ought to charge hg twenty for your tongue. (Aside) I’d ike to black his eye, and trip him into the mud; but there’s granny—“ Whatever you do, Dick,” says she, “don’t git into no street-fight.” Besides, he could take the law ag‘in me—lJaw’s made for rich folks to git off. Aug.—I haven’t but five cents about me just now, and five is quite enough: there wasn’t but a speck of mud on it, anyhow, and if you got twenty custom- ers, there would be a dollar a day, and a dollar a—— Minnie (picks up something).—Oh, sir, if you pee, here’s the other five-cent piece. uess it dropped out of your pocket, 1all I give it to Dick? Aug.—You little thief! j Pane —You dropped it, sir. all. Anug.—And you were going to make off with it. Minnie.—I wasn’t—I’m_ not a thief—it isn’t your money, it’s Dick’s. He earned it, and [ won’t let you have it; there, now. Here, Dick, hold out your hand; he's a mean boy. Aug.—(Catches hold of her.) See here, you young city waif—you little street imp—I'll have you sent to the station- house. Dick.—(Lets his brush fall.) None o’ that, you Fifth Avenoodle. I don’t mind your precious mean talk to me, but I won't bear it toa girl. You let her go of her— she’s good and honest, if she is a sweeper. (Dick catches hold of Augustus. Minnie begins to cry.) Enter an old gentleman, Old Gent.—Here, here! What's this! what's this? A street row, eh? For shame—for shame—two chaps like you fighting this time o’ theday. Do you want to be up before the court? (Parts them. Dick.—I wouldn’t fight, sir, on my own account, but he insulted that little girl. He’s a mean coward. Old G.—What little girl? (Minnie comes forward, still in tears.) Dick.—Why, little Bright Eyes, sir. She has beatings enough to home without being shaken on the streets. Aug. (Sullenly.)—She was going to keep my money. Minnie.—Oh, no, sir. He said he didn’t have but five cents to pay for his shoes bein’ blacked, and he dropped this out of his pocket. I was only going to give it to Dick. Dick earned it, sir. Old G. (Looking at the child, aston- ished.) —Why! whose child are you? Minnie. (Sobbing)—I ain’t n-nobody’s e-child, sir. I—only l-live with granny, and she b-beats me. Old G. (to Dick.)—Do you know this little one? Dick.—Yes, sir—she lives in our street. Old G.—With whom? Dick.—An old woman calls herself her granny. Don't b’leeve she is, though. Old G.—Why?# I seen it Dick.—Folks say as she was stole from somewhere, sir, when she wasa little "un. Old G. (Aside.)—Very singular cvin- cidence. She’s the living image of my dear daughter; even tothe droop of the eyelid. And she was stolen five years ago—and this child—how old are you, lit- tle one? Minnnie.—About nine, sir, granny says. Old G.—And have you always lived with your granny? Minnie.—Oh, no, sir. Before we re- moved here I had a dear mamma, and never had to sweep the crossings, and never was beat nor umene: My mamma had a pretty house, and [ wore such nice clothes, and a nurse took care of me; but they stole me, and carried me to the wharf, and took me ina ship till I came here, and I don’t have no nice clothes now, but granny whips me when I don’t git money. Old G.—(Wipes his eyes with his hand- kerchief.) Then I believe you are my own little grandchild, been missing these five years, for you’ve got your mother’s face. You were stolen from Boston— and your poor mother never looked u after it. Throw your broom aside, child, we'll soon see. And you, sir (turning to Augustus) you are a mean cowara—it iene no odds who you are, to lay hands on a little girl, no matter how poor and miserable she may be. (Augustus sneaks off.) Here, (to Dick)—take this money— you black boots for a living, but you are a gentleman. (Dick draws back.) Dick.—Doesn’t want pay for it, sir. Old G.—You must take it. It is a thank-offering for having found my child. And now come with me. I am going to this little girl’s home. (Old Gentleman takes little girl by the hand and goes. Dick swings his block round with a sup- pressed hurrah, and curtain falls.) WITH THE OYS ——~oe—_——_ BY ARTHUR SEWALL, Cc. H. D., Hartwell, Ohio, writes: “I am 15 years old, aud am in the second grade of Cincin- nati High School. Would you continue through school and enter Yale or Harvard and study law? Tam in my second year at the Cincin- nati Art Museum, and have a chance of becom- ing an architect. If Ido can you tell me some school to goto after finishing the Cincinnatt school? Or would you take up a tree claim out West.” Your exacting letter has the tone of the legal profession, and you may be gifted for the profession of law. If so, the only suitable advice is to enter either one of the universities named in your letter and study law. There are at least fifty law schools in the United States, and it will not be necessary to enter Harvard or Yale to study unless you so desire. In Chicago there is the Union College of law of the Chicagé and Northwestern universities, with a faculty of five pro- fessors. ‘The course extends over two years, and students entering the junior class are expected to have at Venn a good common schoo! education. A knowledge of Latin is desirable, but is not required. The price of instruction is ninety doliars year, and ten dollars is the graduating ee. A reference to the “Report of the Com- missioner of Education” for any year will give a full list of the law schools in the country, and then for detailed informa- tion you must write to the dean of the faculty for the annual prospectus, from which you will gain the facts as to ad- mission, terms, etc. One of the best law schools in the country is that connected with the University of Michigan, at Ann Arbor. The annual fees there are only fifty dollars a year to non-residents. The legal profession is not an easy one, and success is only vouchsafed to those of ability, but, on the other hand, no pro- fession is so lucrative when one is safely launched in it. You will find an inter- esting article on law schools and lawyers in No. 77 Goop News Short Talks. Most young men who desire to study architect- ure write to some one eminent in that profession for advice before taking a course of study. He will be in a better position to tell you if you are adapted to this particular profession. An architect is practically an engineer, and should secure an engineer's educa- tion. The School of Mines of Columbia College and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology have special courses in architecture. The essential feature of all studies in architecture is drawing. If you have an opportunity to learn a profession, do so, by all means, and give up the idea of going West. It will be time enough to go West when you have learned your profession. In fact ji be a good idea to learn your F no matter what one you selech o West and grow ny with the : ‘ou will have a much better oP for practice than you would ia ed Eastern cities. D. 8. P., Macon, Ga., writes# “7 also to have a little advice {rome years of age, and have 0 ate to anything. but think I would oe clerk, What would you advise Me™ ; As you have no particular any trade, business, or profese™,) not be advisable to enter 4°) as it is almost certain that je rise above an errand-boy. 47 something that you have a strone for than drug clerk. Look @ nde the different trades and oe as if anything strikes your fi aD asl. Lp again. A drug clerk's 18 fig inhi monotonous position, exceDrer “ft of the big stores in the Jale boy usually commences one second year, $3. a week, at year $5 a week. The averee drug clerks is $18 a weeks td is not a very lofty position) The real work is not very arn the pen take into considera iours a drug clerk has t store, including Sundays small, A boy who 1s oe long and farithfully ough jon Wh self to some other occupy anortu is more activity an advancement. The arug bust recommend to boys wh® +k of doing active or hard WOP™ J.C, Long Island City, Me Ma heat 17 years old and havea fair ed 18 my great desire to become anol! if sary to go to a training 80d ypab") on ee eae 2 to Br. OF 1e cost of tuition e The proper course t0 pursvt js to become a first class enter some dramatic © larger cities, or else teur. Most of our pest ates from drama popular dramatic are a Amnarantia on might a or m arest 1: them, ie are thet ps are ramatic CHU of th members of e ; or actresses. In facts oe the the mor see the stage except chairs. They are like so-called athletic clubs ™ 4 , only. way W pion Don’t get carried @ 1 Re that all actors area in no profession so U he names of actors i are successful and are = bat be told in very little sprite! of those who find ib @ pimes get a square meal thre@ mye ne fill a good-sized book. up B are in New York waa tween Twenty-fifth nares also about Union Sige get some idea of ee of rofession who are t ow re Tt is one of the are i or to Sy ave * ot th i making a living would advise you profession. Unless specialty to make 4, safe to predict that y f cessful. The name and agencies can city directory. in advertising them © A. H., Omaha, N aoe desire of becoming a f ask your advice. Doe ted des take elocution? W! po ma wnt and a protessionty aiD mile, Ne ever hire a boy or hed : time use him as € d Orne Ne ; tell me which wol comical or tragica I could fall back or 17, and have “souk it very much. Read answer this city, N. Y.’ in : become an actly, 18. salary paid to a€ fifteen dollars at d dollars a ven and popular xe very seldom t@ boy. to ge him I pas 8° actor unless the 1 8 jal spec ( ent for a partic 6 peter . “cou of your havin&,_ pert 98) mean acted as a {Siirantaeiib be of any sper a ck f just as likely, 7 as a new ar resources. i even moder@ ae will or you profession. A. ©. B., Denver, Co} old, and workinty 0 for $3 aweek. vill week. ink Sy “2 T have not the “oat as other hoys- t wou me to lear! a i hard to learD iy down to th this ale ’ Most all trades to read. Would you erel can get the books, and what Advise me to learn ?” {tue there are not many trades here 2 0% but as you are no doubt a la boy you will find something ibstantial when you grow up, than * LOnsidering your age, you are ee Well, and ought to be satisfied Pot years, Attend night school you can get an opportunity. ke, WOuld be a good study for you ig sto Try and secure a position in are fe a$ errand boy or porter, and 4 dustrious your employer will recognize your worth and U0 an ou WO Remen portunity to learn the busi- rthis is a free country, what trade or profession ake you have the same privi- other boy. % inthete™ York. writes: “Which do you : lost profitable of the following Wi sea architectural, or free lat one of the above draw- YOU advise me to pursue?” a thorou gh knowledge of free (Pewing and sketching, you can a artist, and make pictures for Papers, Such work will lead howey? Painter in water-color or . Mind, >» you are of an inventive cee ry vemem ond 4 matter .¢ UNde nd 4nd lean toward mechani- tter study mechanical drawing. You would W Successful in mechani- i it requires a natural gift he etch artist. eo 00L OF THE FAMILY. oH a GE HEMYNG, Yack Harkawry Series,” etc. CHAPTER II. An TOMMY’s DANGER. , Br ieee 29, Nigger John did not ' Mt lengty” °Vertaking Tommy, and to “bh 8 veno.S°%e Up the chase, vow- yMhigp Uc upon him when he r8 mere er, ed th 4b the corner of the street What Candy, “Do the next move?” said | box a» You want to creep into »” replied Tommy, with a ~ afraid. The old man’s . € shop just now.” ugh, to gO among cof- ogg eep the dead does, ]° half in - I’ve seen half a t waiting to be boxed up, Snot you. They're harm- Othing when you you’re 't another boy. eee aimed the new “snowballing Nigger v 4 narvelt away, Swanny RQ Maq ley. SS for on. Wanted tosell him 53 “andy, and he wouldn't © With ql you,” ' Ami give oy Sen! do Marbles, nendful of candies, wo! eth More tied Swanny Marsh; ! e von? them,» said Charley. Me Mtingert Ua like to do with ; © owner of the , voli it there on to-night in Julian u nd got a seat up in ead, me there was a bon {ond I dropped a a Op of him. Jima- a p “ve heard him howl e ” ly you? it, athey did. A mean was bounced. @ pigeons, if h the door ’ TBs the» st a “aot that?” 7 Nay hollen and put the gas Bi Tepit to son Live!” like fury. Tie: gcd Mare,tte folks run for hag me iteey ! said Charley. Hv ele? Won't : enti , _30U, Tommy?” ex- * & iitnred red Tommy, in . Pras, nid Swanny Marsh. (Te yi m Ny Paper oe ee Uy toe iBeong 8S in which were eS n Hall, Open the \" GOOD door alittle way and let the birds fly,” ee Charley Barker. “1t’ll be such un.” Tommy thought so, too, but he did not stop to consider the matter thoroughly in all its bearings. This is the trouble with most boys. They do not stop to think, and, acting as creatures of impulse, they often do mischievous things, which produce disas- trous results, without meaning any real harm. Reaching the hall, which contained about three hundred fo, A who were listening to an instructive lecture, Tommy opened the door a little way. He attracted no notice. Then he opened the papas bag, and the birds flew out among the audience. Rushing hither and thither, the pigeons, by the motion of their wings, soon ex- tinguished the lights. The hall was wrapped in darkness. Meanwhile Charley Barker and Swanny Marsh cried “Fire! Fire!” with all their might, and Tommy joined in the din. Not knowing how or why the lights had been put out, the audience became panic-stricken. They made a rush for the doorway, which speedily became blocked. Now a terrible scene ensued, which the boys were far from intending, or even anticipating. The doorway became jammed with a fighting, struggling mass of humanity, yelling, shrieking, and pushing to escape. Delicate women and children were trampled under foot, and the darkness made the scene more dreadful. There was only one door to the hall, which was all the worse for the people. The three boys left off crying “Fire! NEWS. “They say it’s Marsh’s; him as lives up the avenue. Little Tony Marsh, I heard them call him, and they wou’t tuke him home, ’cos the mother’s sick, and the shock might kill her.” These were cruel words for Swanny to hear, but he did hear them, and they sank into his heart like lead. “Ob, God!” he murmured, killed my little brother.” Then his lips became whiter than his cheeks, and he would have fallen to the ground had not Charley Barker caught him. “Say, “this is awful? “What’ll I do?” asked Tommy. “Say nothing to anybody. Watch your chance to get into the shop, and hide away in a coffin, as I told you.” “But how about poor Swanny Marsh?” “T'll take him home, Don’t bother yourself about him.” “All right.” “Don’t forget; you’re not to squeal. I must post Swanny when he comes to. If you don’t look out we shall all get sent up.” Tommy nodded his head, as if he quite comprehended the warning. He walked sadly away, and Charley, = time, with some difficulty, got Swanny ome. The state of affairs at home can be easily imagined—a hysterical mother, a father frenzied with grief, one little bed empty, its occupant gone forever, and the house of mourning, desolation, and de- spair. But crushed with grief as he was, and overwhelmingly shocked, Swanny Marsh did not say anything. “JT have Tommy,” % exclaimed Charley, On 4 \ | | | i @ a9 ES WZ 1 — —t Ig SS Py )\| a BY PK Vip UG. (( (Wo ( NS NY AANA) ee 1A tills A NX — —~ => ii rT] /} Sree 2 sv ! ———] (| (OO — ~~ ey J ) })/ & => - ae w Ean _f ( \e o> 7 ; wry Ae coy LIVI 4 ie kf 5 (ZA ae). = fr! \J ALD SS i ali/Al 0 \ i Saas (Yd % At I Fi a F | Ke }) }) )) res UUM A MAS . ~e Wi a a A eg er Poe Mea aN JUST UNDER ME THERE WAS A MAN WITH fire!” when they saw the people coming out. They grew frightened at the terrible uproar, and with blanched faces stood on the outskirts of a quickly increasing crowd. The police came effectual assistance. In a quarter of an hour the hall was cleared, and beyond bruises and _ cuts, none of the grown people were seriously ee ; Some women were carried out fainting and bleeding; but one sight caused a thrill of horror to run through the assem- bled crowd. ‘ oe police had picked up a little boy— ear He was a tiny little fellow, about seven years old, and as they placed the lifeless body on a shutter, many a strong; man felt inclined to shed tears. This was the only one killed. “He's a goner,” whispered Charley to his companions. “Who'd have thought that?” . “It’s rough,” replied Swanny | Marsh. “Wonder who's young one he is. “Don't know.” “Oh!” said Tommy, “I’m so sorry we did it.” “So’m I now,” answered Marsh, The shutter with the youthful corpse upon it, was taken up by four stout men. “Where are they going to take it? asked Charley of a man in the crowd. | i “Up to Barker's, the undertaker’s, up and rendered was the reply. “ Whose ‘icy is it?” A BALD HEAD, AND I DROPPED A MARBLE DOWN RIGHT ON TOP OF HIM. He kept the horrid secret locked up in his breast. Tommy watched the undertaker’s house from a distance, saw the body of the dead child taken in, waited till the crowd dis- persed, and then crept into the house by the back way. The room in which the coffins were stored was up one flight of stairs. No one saw him go up. He pushed the door open, and the pale moonlight streamed in on piles of coffins, some made of common pine and others of handsomely polished wood. These latter were the elegant caskets of the rich. Pieces of wood and carpenters’ tools lay all about, but what arrested Tommy’s attention was a white cloth. | This was stretched over a plainly made coffin. : Actuated by an irresistible impulse, he approached and lifted the cloth. . x convulsive shudder ran through his limbs. : He had disclosed the pallid features of the dead boy, the poor unfortunate who had come to his untimely end through the thoughtless joke of his friends and himself. ; It was dreadful to have to sleep in the same room with the dead. |, “I'll put it out of sight, said he to himself. Lifting u eee d, neh. Tt was a cold night, and he kept the sheet, the coffin containing the e hid it under the carpenters’ 1373 There was a boy’s coffin on the floor, and he crept in. Jt just fiuted him. Grew lig the white cloth or sheet over himself, he soon fell asleep, in spite of the dismal and ghastly surroundings. An hour later Barker, the undertaker, entered. “I guess I’]l just nail a lid over that ‘stiff,’” he muttered. “I’ve known cats to come in here and gnaw the hands aud faces. There’ll be an inquest to-morrow, and it’ll be best to have it look decent.” Taking up a board, he placed it over the coflin in which Soft Tonimy was sleep- ing. Then he drove in half a dozen long nails. The sound of the nailing roused Tommy, who tried to cry out, but the lid was so close to his face that be could not. He felt a sense of suffocation. In vain he endeavored to raise an alarm. A nameless horror took possession of him. It was worse than a nightmare, or anything that can be produced by physi- cal suffering. . It was the fear that he was going to be buried alive—that, in fact, he was already nailed up in his casket and ou his way to the silent tomb. “That fixes it,” he beard Mr. Barker say. “Now I’ll go to bed.” “Mr. Bar-Barker,” Tommy strove to say, but his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. The words died on his lips. A dizziness came over him, his head seemed to swim, and he lost conscious- ness. The undertaker had nailed him in the coffin, and he was alone with the dead. * * * * * Charley Barker went to sleep, after leaving Tommy, but he woke up with a bad dream, in which he had fancied that his friend had fallen into a furnace, and was rapidly being reduced to a cinder. He bad witnessed the horrid scene dis- tinctly in his dream, the boy’s arms were outstretched as if begging help and pro- tection, while his plaintive voice rang in his ears. A cold sweat broke out all over Char- ley, as he started up in bed, and such was the impression that the dream made on him, that he determined to go to the carpenters’ room and satisfy himself with his own eyes that all was right. : It was fortunate indeed for Tommy that Charley had his dream, for had he been left till morning in his confused and cramped position, he would undoubtedly have been a corpse. Hastily slipping on his clothes, Charley crept out of the room and stood a mo- ment at the head of the stairs to assure himself that all was quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Barker had retired to rest, and the house was consequently as still as the grave, so he boldly made his way to the place where he had left Tommy. Striking a match, he lighted a lantern, which cast a Jurid light over the pile of coftins, and to his astonishment, perceived that the wooden casket into which his friend had crawled was nailed down. “Dad’s been up here,” he muttered, “and I shouldn’t wonder if he hain’t taken the living for the dead.” Seizing a screw driver, he force off the lid, finding his judgment correct, for there was Tommy Smithers, breathing heavily, with the blood oozing from his eres, nose, mouth, and ears. “By thunder,” he cried, “that was a lucky dream of mine. I'm only just in time; but better late than never; a good motto, aud he yet lives.” : With some diffculty he lifted Tommy out of the coffin, and placed him on the fioor, when the cold air soon revived him. Opening his eyes, he looked curiously around him at the strange surroundings, like one emerging from a trance, but when his eyes fell upcn Charley his memory seemed to come back to him, and he smiled faintly. S Presently he sat up and said: “I puess your fatner nailed me down, thinking J was Tony Marsh. But how did you come to know it?’ : . “It was through a dieam I had,” replied Charle "A ise. Per ee. I thought you were ina fiery furnace, and called to ne for lelp. The dream was so clear that J coulen’t sleep, until I bad come to see if you were all right.” : “Thank you,” said Tommy, grasping his hand. “You have saved my life.’ He was trembling with excitement and shivering with the cold, so that Charley concluded to offer him half his bed. “Come and turn in with me,” he ex- claimed. “I'll stand a thrashing from father. You can’t rest here.” “No, indeed, answered Tommy, with a shudder. “I came too near dying here to like the idea. Wouldn’t it have’ been horrible if I had gone to the grave that way?” began to aren,” repeated Tommy, in sur- 1374 GooDpD NEWS. “I'll bet you. Wait while I put poor little Tony in the box and fix the lid, or father will think something.” He took hold of Tony, and was about to place him in the coftin when he dropped the body. “What's the mat-matter?” asked Tom- my, whose teeth were chattering. “He's warm yet,” answered Charley. “What you say?” cried Tommy. “It can’t be, because the doctor said he was a gone coon.” “I don’t give a straw for what the doc- tor said,” answered Charley, going on his knees, and putting his ear to the boy’s chest. “He’s breathing,” he continued, after a slight pause, “and of course he can’t be dead. This isa night of mira- cles. Oh! ain’t I just glad, that’s all. Swanny was awfully cut up, and so were we, to think that our joke should have killed Tony.” “What’ll we do?” inquired Tommy. “Tell you what'll we do. You help me to carry him, and we’ll put him between us in my bed, and warm him.” Tommy was now strong enough to ren- der the required assistance, and the boys succeeded in getting the supposed corpse into bed. There were no bones broken in Tony’s body, though he was considerably crushed and bruised. It was an undoubted fact that he lived, for in a couple of hoars he was so much recovered that he was able to speak. “Ts that you; Swanny?” he asked. The little fellow was accustomed to room with his elder brother, and supposed they were in bed together. Tommy had dropped off into a deep slumber, but Charley Barker was awake. “No, Tony, it’s me, Cnarley Barker. You know me, don’t you?” he replied. “Why, certainly. But why ain’t I in my own house? What has happened? I’m so sore all over.” “You got hurt when the people at the lecture had a scare, and Swanny and I thought you'd be best here.” “Does mother know?” “Oh, yes! Try and get to sleep, there’s a good little fellow. here good and early in the morning.” “IT shall be glad to sleep, my head aches | so, and I feel quite dizzy, while my body is just as if I’d been beaten all over. Good-night, Charley; it was very kind of you to take so much care of me.” Then the little fellow dozed off, and Charley Barker sank to sleep with the sweet consciousness of having saved two lives that night by his lucky dream. (TO BE CONTINUED.) —___-_~+ 0 KATE’S RACE WITH WOLVES. BY LIZZIE CAMPBELL. cowry . . y F the many lovely counties in New p York, none present stronger points of attraction to the lover of pic- “<4 * turesque than the beautiful coun- ty of S——. Masses of rock lay piled upon one another in such magnificent dis- order, as if tossed there in the antedilu- vian revels of some of our gigantic first fathers. The roads wind broken and un- even through every variety of hill and dale on one side, not unfrequently rising in’ some lofty mountain, waving with clustering foliage and vocal with the song of birds, while on the other descends as abruptly a bristling precipice, the rug- ged horrors of its yawning gulf half-hid- den beneath mantling rivers, and only etraying its great depth by the faint musical tingle of the stream which it hides in its grim bosom. When Jacob Weir, a sturdy Scotchman, with a large family built a log cabin in that region, in the very heart of the mighty forest, and installed himself and said family therein. there were not wanting some of his neigh- bors to hint that the act qualified him for a strait-jacket and a straw couch in a mad-man’s cell. Jacob only laughed the croakers to scorn, sawing away all the time at the huge trees that hemmed him in on eern side, with untiring energy and no small success; and spite of prophe- sies, matters prospered with him. The crops and the towheads grew apace—the one bringing money into Jacob’s pocket, the other sunshine to his dwelling, and as years went by he began to be spoken of with due respect as a well-to-do and thriving man. Nowhere was a heartier welcome to be obtained than at Jacob Weir's. Friend or acquaintance, or passing stranger, alike were sure of a Seat at the hospitable board and warm nook in the chimney, none of your modern degenerate fire-places, but a vast black gulp. yawning almost the length of the ouse, and piled up to the very top with huge logs of hickory and hemlock, that crackled and burned as though they en- qoyed it. No wonder hospitality is out of ashion now, for what man could ask another to take a seat in the corner of his range? It wasin the early spring time of the Swanny will be| year 18— that our story commences, when Jacob and his family were gathered around the hearth as was their wont, after their plain but abundant supper. Bright and strong blazed the fire, cast- ing flickering shadows on the rough ceil- ings and rougher walls, flashing back from the well-scoured pewter on the dresser, lighting up the ruddy counte- nanee of old Jacob, and the handsome ones of six, tall, broad shouldered, and strong limbed sons, and finally throwing a whole halo of light around the spot where sat the torment and idol of the household, saucy, darling Kate, Jacob's only daughter. She was of the tallest height of woman, and her superb form, unshackled by the restraint of art, had all that elasticity and subtle grace which nature alonecan give. Her features were noble and regular in outline, large, clear, and blue as the heavens, in short, she was a handsome, frank, unsophisticated girl. She was not what is termed accom- plished, for she had never seen a piano, knew nothing of crochet work, and could neither dance nor speak bad French. But she was a good shot, rode well on horseback, and was as swift on foot as a camilla herself. I am not prepared to say, either, that she had what ladies call rood taste in dressing, though it would e difficult to find a more charming figure than she presented in her gray homespun dress, aa neat little collar, or at least so thought Alick Harden, on the eventful evening of which we are writing. Said Alick was a gay young student from col- lege, who caine to spend his vacations in hunting in this wild region among the mountains, and had nearly finished it by serving a lunch for a huge panther, when he was fortunately rescued by two of Jacob’s sons. The wounds he received were but slight, and he quickly recovered under Kate’s careful nursing; but he still lingered un- accountably, though he manifested no dis- position to accompany the boys on their various excursions, seeming to derive a vast amount of amusement in watching Kate as she went about her household duties. This practice was speedily productive of the most disastrous results, for, in the | course of two weeks, Kate three times put buttermilk inthe churn, twice burned the bread to a cinder, and finally set all their tceth on edge by the production of lemon pie without a particle of sugar | in it. Regardless of all these melancholy events, the audacious Alick still persisted in this unaccountable course of conduct, and had made himself quite obnoxious to Kate that evening by so doing, that she was continually blushing from sheer indig- nation, and it was a great relief when her father bade her get out the porringer and the pudding, as he was right down hungry. Going to the dresser, Kate uncovered a mighty earthen dish, filled with de- lectable golden substance, which she forth- with served out with due care and delib- eration into nine bright porringers, and then proceeded to drown it in a flood of yellow cream. This done. the fire was to be raked down and the porringers placed on the coals; and here that luckless Alick, prompted by his evil genius, at- tempting to assist her; it so happened that their hands got mysteriously entan- gled, and Alick most ingeniously con- trived to pect the porringer into the fire. “Ha! ha! ha!” roared the brethren, in chorus, as Alick and Kate sprang to their feet in dismay. And “ha! ha!” roared old Jacob, even in his gravity being unable to withstand the ludicrously fright- ened expression of the culprit’s face. “It is too bad!” said Kate, greatly pro- voked; “men are always, so stupid and awkward.” “Ha! ha!” burst out Dan, the eldest of the six, “Kate’s fingers are all thumbs lately.” “Her wits are going a wool gathering, or rather a flower-gathering,” chimed in another, “ever since Joe, the miller’s handsome son, brought the last load of flour to the house; and it took him and Kate all the afternoon to put six bags in the buttery.” “Kate wants a little maple sugar to sweeten her temper,” said Dan. “Pity it is so early in the season.” “It's plain you didn’t need any of the sap,” retorted Kate, “when you left the dipper down in the bush to-night.” “T can’t say how that is,” answered Dan: “but, with all your pluck, you darn’t go and fetch it.” “T dare, and I will!” answered Kate, now thoroughly roused. “Why, Kate, you are crazy!” said her father. “It’s more than a quarter of a mile from here; and the wolves are how]l- ing more than uncommon to-night.” ‘T don’t care,” answered Kate. “Go I will; and bring back the dipper, too; and then we will see who has the most pluck.” In spite of the remonstrances of her father, and the entreaties of the horror- stricken Alick to be permitted at least to accompany her, the headstrong girl] per- sisted in going, and putting on her shawl, she hurried down the garden-path, and was quickly lost to sight in the forest. It was a chilly evening, and the halo that encircled the moon, and the driving clouds that not unfrequently obscured her, told of a coming storm. A light snow had whitened the ground, relieved here and there occasionally by black patches of mud; and, as it cracked under her feet, Kate would involuntarily look hastily around, fancying she neard the tread of some wild animal. In the ghastly light, the trees seemed to stick up toa greater height, and their gnarled branches | Dark | ) ) | when entering their huts. took strange, fantastic shapes. clumps of bushes seemed, to her disturbed imagination, crouching figures, ready to spring upon her; and not unfrequently she paused, and held her breath, thinking she saw the glare of eyeballs in the thicket, or heard the sound of stealthy breathing close beside her. Then, chid- ing herself for her weakness, she would hurry on, till at length the tall, slender poles of the maple trees defined them- selves against the sky, and seizing the dipper with a sigh of relief, she turned | She might have | on her homeward path. advanced ten steps, when her heart gave a bound that seemed to send it to her throat, and then almost ceased to beat, as she stood listening with such intensity that her very breathing seemed suspended. Was that the wind moaning through the branches? Nearer and nearer it came, the long, low, melancholy sound, and then she knew she bad to run for her life, for she had recognized the howl of the wolves, and she was sure that they were already on her track. Kate was a courageous girl, and swift- footed as an antelope, but when the yell- ing pack burst upon her from the bushes into view, and glancing over ber shoul- ders as she ran, she saw them bounding after her, their heads outstretched, their red tongues lolling from their open mouths, snapping, growling, and leaping madly into the air, thirsting and raging for her blood, a sickening terror took ossession of her. Should her limbs fail 1er, even for an instant, should she stum- ble or fall, she would inevitably be dragged down and torn to pieces by these ravenous monsters. Horrible! to have her flesh rent from her bones, and noth- ing left but a bleaching skeleton to tell her sad fate! On they came, close to her heels, almost catching and rending her dress as it flew out in their grinding teeth, their yelling, savage voices ever sounding nearer and nearer. Now ovt of the forest and down the garden path, but her limbs were flagging, and closer and closer came the hurried, panting breaths. She reached the garden gate; the house was close before her; but at her shoulder leaped and howled the foremost of the pack, his hot breath on her cheeks, and his low growl sounding in her very ears, when suddenly out rushed seven stalwart fig- ares, shouting and waving flaming brands around their heads as they came. Panic- stricken, the wolves scoured back to the forest, and the half-fainting girl was conducted, or rather borne, into the cabin. She soon recovered from the more im- mediate effects of her fright; but, to her dying day, she could never speak without a shudder of her “Moonlight Race with the Wolves.” ———_-_ ~~» o> __—_——- ARE TALENTS DERIVED FROM THE FATHER OR THE MOTHER? It is certainly a popular belief that tal- ents are Cahartead keean the mother, but this isa question that must always re- main an open one, The facts of heredity show that asa rule the male takes the peculiarities of the father, and the female those of the mother. A noted writer, however, is of the opinion that the quali- ties of each individual are due to the com- bined influence of both parents, and that the remarkable qualities of the one may have been neutralized in the offspring by the opposite or defective qualities of the other. Much is due to natural abilities, to the force of example, to education, and to a man’s power of application. In face of this, it is difficult to say whether talents are derived from father or mother, but it is certain that the latter has the larger influence in moulding character, as an educator, to inspire ambition, and to kindle the loftiest and most generous impulses. WHERE HAIR CUTTING IS UNPOP- ULAR. The tonsorial art finds no favor among the Malays; and the Latookas, one of the native tribes of Africa, are never known to cut their hair. They weave it into most wonderful shapes, which could not be done unless it were of considerable length. The process is said to occupy several years before it is fully completed. The thick, crisp wool of the male is woven with fine twine made from the bark of a tree, until it represents a network of felt, As the hair grows it is subjected to the 9 rocess and trained into the 1elmet. A rim of about two inches g is formed, and the front part of © helmet is protected by i copper, while a piece 5 sitnnen like the half of a bisbop® and about a foot in length forms The helmet is then arrangement of beads. of 1 porcelain about the size of smé@ Hai1-cutting is unpopular amoné Cafusos, whose hair grows length, rising perpen icularly | head in thick curly masses 42 a covering of such enormous that the possessors have LITTLE DOT. PSPS “ys BY MRS. A. M. COPELAND: a SS mers, with flaxen “J gray eyes that look 7X” about, as she ran along ¢ of her nurse, a comely looking, out 9 who threaded her way 12 ane’ th crowd on the pavement, graspiye ale hand of her little charges wake the effort the child had to ; pace with her. y A man was grinding out of a hand-organ, scarlet coat, hat, and forming sundry feats. ott.” peed see cried the child in glee. “190k But Bridget pushed ahead, 1of ther to the right nor left, down a narrow alley, wat nce chatting with an acquaintay pall less of her little charge; W7 had dropped. y tu! regan ty Dot, thus left to herself, sul} § about for amusement, @B6r the music in the distance ed: the © the pavement till she Te®™ 4 them Yes, there was the organ Wy aelig, Bi and, losing all fear 12 al ran up to the crowd of ohieet a rounded ae man, ata ae : “Pitty boy, pitt $ wereds red, © A ragged newsboy aneet e laugh: cant tO aon midget, der ritty boy?” det; P Lifting the child to his she? she her where she could Fe deren” her hands with delight, ie ‘re with her little heels nin symp protector, who laughe@ © jccec fl The man and monkey dren d “4 street, the crowd of rild dow? the newsboy put the ont rs, 168° off, shouting his newsPe one. tle’ Dot bewildered and 4 tying She wandered OM, © qiffé Bridget, but, going 1 ly t0 fi tion, turned a corner OP amid in a strange place ve fm people, some of W site d wonderingly at the tired ape” along a'one. At lasts ad she began to cry. jittle “What's the matte, pas a gentleman, burTy rae lost?” “No, Biidget’s 108, rubbing her eyes it The man was in @ proaching car; aboard, and for he had met. tattered shoes, Carty, came wearily dow? a by the child. : sis?” ® ““What’s the matt sce “B'idget’s los’. 20 yaiy and she sobbed coDv" Age “Where did you the girl, sitting aoa one and drawing the itl’ cee ‘ “I don’ know, i she » he’s don‘, too,” a? the girl's shouldet an “What’s your m0 ck “Papa talls me q” “Who is your PAP, ont “Why, he’s papa» 6° The girl, who Me but with a prem shook her head. pat § “T don’t know ae must go right bere scold,” ek she reve attempte © cae to b t ’eave she hurrie cried: tired “T’se so ’ e The girl lifted, and carryin be nt staggered & tonem ments a dingy Ve the a rear apart wearily into @ who ve Rae “What e claimed a stout take met us and, with © a piece of pou of the same ™) be oh wil) adorne and © f on) for! dime? 2nd h do you want d , nd} Mrg. ices ing ha Ba 1 Aunt 1 up An an to slay mo oe : t and ag’ neat n i You le w «dig : . ang y, and in as M te her } *reeah|¢ A tem, 1 2 tion.» — _ Dot ¢} B u pew mom lee saig ; take ary \ j d | 81 Dlieg | } Quiet, frou Crims er dg - feoot clung to her friend and sobbed for a ous > 0 wit Which they | “posit; ve BB S56--drew as se atio4 fan Dlied he? drew a stool to her side | tT * au a vehed jjarer |) Dot } °Yesg widen’ no reply, only to open her 1 io ha newered jn g & sil Dred at the A) ton» aod Galil tt CGrooDpD NEW Ss. 1s75 ing hastily forward, a frown on her face. A A little girl who was lost in the street, unt Kitty.” And Up and bring her home to me, who has Slave from morn till night to fill your cata without taking a strange brat to t opened her eyes at this juncture, and a8 Mary began to cry, the little one | “ ‘ 7 : k You S naughty ’ooman make dood girl | oo then 2°. of your sass to me!” exclaimed hani oo’? woman, lifting her heavy | delic and dealing the child a blow on her = ate cheek that stained it with crim tae almost stunned her fora mo- front; hen she sprang to the floor, con- sta ing the woman with blazing eyes, wy ping oe little foot, mae i c L Old uggy ooman, I'1l tell papa, and he'll put 76 in jail.” rk the ingyen fairly shrank away from ay eet front child. » you're a tiger-cub, ain't you?” inte we Mary drew the excited child back agree lap, she turned away with a dis- 2. ceable laugh, saying: tion °™Pest ina tea-pot—quite a sensa- i Voice saiacnt™ till the woman’s harsh | a voy Ward, put that baby down, and | “gy work: you've fooled about long | >» and witha jerk she untied the | coarse work, by the doing of | earned their living. e difficulty Mary released the | arms from around her neck, and he her in the corner of an old | ed | : child som a needle diligently. Suched down in her corner, very . Dot — —Miet, ‘potimson still burned on her cheek, Woman 0 arge eyes watched the stern to the Baeereite her. She made no answer Th Worm vions with which she was plied. -fixeq ny 4M was annoyed at the strange, aver’ of the child. are you staring at, you simple- 8 « “ , he asked, Haven't you any man- 4 ergy» , “W if possible. ; jm hat are you going to do with that rnin ne?” at last the woman, asked, tin the paper to-night, Aunt | run out and 1en we shall know where a) peut If ; Y one a oo please, I'l n Ke he,» & fine, miss, but I've no money to ers, and I don’t think a very Will be offerea for her.” a eal supper re ready, 8 eat anything, although pil her own morsel of butter UD Glos ead to tempt her—she only iggine m the corner. as laughed. Miss, forsooth, and tain’t or her, I s’pose.” , When Mary took the child | 2 whe little elf drew some pen- Pocket and whispered: buy tandy— to the baker's and buy her Womane® Me arted ayrunted out an assent, and ke ad laid” returning in a few mo- gn) in the Shee bag of little sugar- New to de Child's Jap; who began “Mtiena hav?lish them, making her aN iggi are with her. tr Wi 48 Went across the hall to sit ® neighbor; then Dot's eee and she chattered heaheoP® and her mamma, last of her auntie, her kit- rom She drew a little locket, 4a tiny gold chain from a said: haa. ig) ab ub te os Wa nd f ae y etna n® the picture Papa ‘he y Rave a mamma,” said Dot. Hee ized th xClamation of pleasure. yet 4 lar '€ gentleman as the pro- ay, Hey Store she passed almost ; lad spoken kindly k a silver quarter, herishay >’ Carefully hidden in on dressed ty Stores, fel] Se bed OF and put her in her © la ep’ here the weary child | ” Brasping Mary’s hand. ; et ut was up with the . tlormed her customary of hep Patient to notify her r safety, but shrank | fearin aunt kuow anything ® She would claima re- «Morning meal, as Dot » mally said: : batt Pa ro out a little | ; , earn anythin yp ut I tae lost. yesterday ?” . a Your pain. gout have your 48; but don’t be gone ou was fool enough to pick her | all day. If we don’t learn anything about her to-day, I shall hand her over to the police; I ain’t going to have her great, staring eyes watching me as they did yesterday.” Mary tied on her old hat and bounded tom the door, and pursued her way in breathless haste until she reached the | large store. The hour was early, and the clerks lounging around. one Mary asked: : “Is the gentleman that owns the store in? “Which one, miss?” responded the clerk, with a very low bow that made the others laugh. “There are several ners—I am one! How can I serve you?— will you be shown velvets, sdtins, or camel's-hair shawls this morning?” The door of an inner room was opened, and from it stepped a man with a hag- gard face. “Ah, Mr. Weston, I didn't know you were down this morning,” said the clerk, with a deferential bow. “Is there any news, James?” asked the Stepping up to |} new-comer. “None, sir, Iam sorry to say; but the police are on the watch everywhere.” “Please, sir,” said a cash-boy, “here’s a little girl wants to see you; perhaps she knows something.” “Oh, yes, I heard her ask for me; what do you want, my good girl?” “Have you lost a little girl, sir?” “Yes, yesterday; can you tell me any- thing about her?” “Was her name Dot?” matter-of-fact Mary. “x es." “Then she is safe, sir, and asleep in my own bed, and I’ve come to tell you.” * “Thank God, she’s found!” exclaimed the father, brushing a tear from his eye. “Call a cab,” he said to the cash boy, who dashed out to execute the order. “Now, sir,” said Mr. Weston, turning to the clerk whom Mary had addressed, “as I do not wish any partner at present, you may consider yourself discharged, with a month’s salary in advance.” “But, sir——” began the humbled James. “Not a word, sir. I heard all you said to this little girl, who asked you a civil question. I will have every one treated with respect who comes into my store, be they high or low.” The cab arrived, and putting Mary in- side, Mr. Weston inquired the direction, and they drove off, the father eagerly asking questions about his little one. In continued the |atew moments they reached the place, and, showing him in, Mary passed into the inner room, and he heard her speak- ing low. There was a glad cry: “My papa tum! I’se so glad. Mary, d’ess me quick.” In a few moments the door opened, there was a flying leap, and Dot was in her father’s arms, and almost smothered with kisses as he murmured: “My precious darling! my little Dot!” Just then Mrs. Higgins entered, having been absent from the room when be came. Mr. Weston rose with a bow. “T have to thank you, madam, for caring for my little one,” he said, polite- ly; but Dot interrupted him: "“She’s a naughty ‘ooman—she "hip me, she did, right here!” and she pointed to her fair cheek, which was still discolored by the blow. “Madam, how dare you strike my child?” and Mr. Weston’s voice trembled with suppressed rage. “Because she sassed me. I won’t stand sass from any one, especially a little pert minx.” “Where’s your hat, Dot? we will go,” said Mr. Weston. But Dot declared she would not stir without “Mary.” : “Will you let your little girl go home P’ ease, 'with us for a day or two?” asked Mr. Weston. “She’s no child of mine; but I’ve to slave myself to death to keep her, and she not earning the salt in her porridge.” “Then she can go with us?” “No, I can't spare her.” Mary’s wistful eyes were full of tears. “Will that induce you to spare her,a week?” and he laid a ten-dollar bill before her. “Yes, you may keep her a month for that,” with a laugh. Mary was ready in a few moments, and soon found herself installed in Mr. Wes- ton’s luxurious home as playmate and nurse to his capricious child. She never went back to her home of poverty. Mr. Weston ascertained that Mrs. Hig- gins had no legal right to her, and by application to the rightful authorities, he was appointed her guardian. A bright life opened to the once friendless child. Miss Weston, who presided over her brother’s house, took a deep interest in her education, and she was trained for a useful, happy life. Dot never changed in her affection for her; she grew up the same impulsive, warm-hearted being she promised in her childhood, and won hosts of friends, but always to her father she was “Little Dot.” art- | : part |; A werican News Company, Chambers street, New Qur Mail Bag. Seer asain! {Questions on subjects of general interest ay are dealt with in the “Mail Bag.” Medical or leyal questions not answered. Goop NEws goes to press two weeks in advance of date of publication, and eee fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks after we receive them, Communications intended for this column should be addressed Goop NEws “Mail Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.] hate tine J, C. Mc. (Indianapolis, Ind.)—No premium on coin dated 1827. F. W. (Albion, N. Y.)—‘Dan, the Detective,”’ ended in No. 68 of GOOD NEWS. W. A. M. (Federalsburgh, Md.)—Write to the York. W. A. (New York)—Read answer to “F. J.” in “Mail Bag’ column last week about entering Av. napolis Naval Academy. J. Kk. (Philadelphia, Pa.)—Yes, the statement we make regarding James Otis writing exclusively for GOOD NEWS is true in every particular. All his new stories ust therefore appear in GOOD NEws first. Whitewash (Woodland, Cal.) -1. The story you in- quire about was not published in Goop NEws, 2. Twenty-six numbers. 3. There is only one circus using the name of “Barnum.” Thank you for kind wishes. J. D. (Patterson, N. J.) 1. A strong solution of earholic acid and water poured into the nests or hiding places of suails or ants will kill ali it touches. 2. Lieut. Lionel Lounsburry and Wm. Murray Graydon will have serial stories in GOOD NEWS In a short time. W.A. V. W. (Jersey City, N. J.)—Tobaceo leaves to be cured should be placed on a scaffold and al- lowed to take the dew and sun. This induces it to yellow nicely, and necessitates less firing to cause arich color than when taken directly from the tield to the house. When you take it indoors keep up moderate fires to prevent house-turn. B. A. T. (Columbus, Ohio)—Tin, lead, and the al- loys of these metals are much more difficult to cleanse than zine. A rapid scouring with potash lye anda rubbing witha hard substance are the only means of effecting this. The objects are some- times plunged into diluted hydrochloric acid; but the first operation is nearly always necessary. Electrician( Decatur, Ala)--Nightisafterdark,from sunset tosunrise. Evening is the latter part of the day just previous to darkness, twilight. Forenoon is usually meant any time between ten and twelve o'clock, Afternoon from one to five o'clock. We thank you very much for your kind interestin our behalf. Sample copies of GOOD NEWS were for- warded to the names you sent us. Excelsior (Baltimore, Mdad.)—Two sons who ean but will not support their widowed mother ought to be made to do so. To permit their mother to go out to work in order to keep a home over their heads is heartless, to say the least. If they can afford to attend places of amusement, they surely ought to be able to keep their mother from working. We agree with you about them making poor husbands when they grow up if you do not alter their ways of living. hy Joe (Louisville, Ky.)—1f the members of your literary club are theatrically inclined, they could notfind better amnsement for the winter pights than giving entertainments once or twice a month at the homes of the members. Our new department, entitled “GOOD NEW’s Parlor Dramas,” which com- menced this week, ought to interest you. We will publish a new drama each week. They will not re- quire uch staging or many fancy costumes, and can be performed im any large room, J, L, W. (Atlanta, Ga.)—You can silver-plate the handle bars of your bicycle by the following pro- cess: Nitrate of silver, one part; common salt, one; cream of tartar, seven; powder and mix. Or the following: Nitrate of silver, one part; cyanide of potassium, three. Both are applied by wetting with a little water and rubbing om the article to be plated, which must be quite clean. Plating done by the above will be very thin, but it will be silver. You will probably be able to purchase some such preparation atacyclist’s store. ° A. C. P. (San Antonio, Tex.)—To make gum- arabie paste for artificial flowers and ornamental pasteboard work, take a conmmon-sized teacup of cold soft water, and dissolve in it a large teaspoon- ful of the best and cleanest powdered guim-arabic. When the gum is entirely melted, stir in, by de- grees, a tablespoonful of fine wheat flour, carefully pressing out all the lnmips, and making it as smooth as possible. Keep it closely covered and. ina cool place. If, after a few days, it should appear spotted or moldy on the top, remove the surface, and the paste beneath will still be fit for use. J. M. (Jacksonville, Fla.)--No; there is no such thing asa thunderbolt. The so-called thunderbolt is really balllightning ora meteor. It is said to oc- cur in this way: After a violent explosion.of light- ning, a ball isseen to proceed from the region of the explosion, and to make its way to the earth in a curved line like a bomb. When it reaches the ground it either splits up atonce and disappears, or it rebounds like an elastic ball several times be- fore doing so It is described as being very danger- ous, readily setting fire to the building on which it alights; anda lightning conductor is no protection against it. Midshipman (Washington, D. C.)—One of the ele- mentary lawsof hydrostatics is that no matter what the shape of a body floating in eqilibrium in a fluid, the weight of the fluid displaced is equalto the weight of the body. The quantity of water dis- placed by aship is called her displacement, and is expressed as being so many tons, aton being the weight of 35 cubic feet of sea water, or 35.9 cubic feet of fresh water. To find the weight of a vessel, by computing the parts comprising it, would bea task of great magnitude; but after the vessel is launched, since it is known that her weight is equal w thatof the water she displaces, we have only to find the cubic contents ofthe part immersed, mul- tiply it by aunit of volume of water, and the pro- duetis the weight of the ship. J. P. T. (Pisgah, Tenn.)—1. The paper te in- quired about suspended last June. The author you name was the editor, He is at present residing in Brooklyn, N.Y. 2. The story entitled “Jack, the Inventor,” will appear in a short time; also a story by Wm. Murray Graydon. 3. The first paper prb- lished in the United States was the Boston News- Letter, in 1704; the second was. the Boston Gazette, 1719; the third the American Weekly Mercury, in Philadelphia, Pa., 1719; fourth, New York Gazette, in 1725. In 1775 there were in all the colouies 37 news- papers; in 1810, in the United States, 358; in 1828, 802: in 1889, 1,555. Rowell’s Newspaper Directory reports for 1891 the number of newspapers in the United States and Canada as 19,373, Of this num- ber 837 are published in the Dominion of Canada, leaving 18,436 for the United States. \Several communications left over to be answered next week.) es gingiis ~ We have started a new department, én- titled ‘Good News” Parlor Dramas, BY CHARLES W. FOSTER —--+-— — Literature Didn’t Start Them. Eastern Man—“‘Yes, sir, it’s a shame the way this sensational juvenile literature is turning the heads of boys, and sending them West to tight Indians.” Western Man—‘“Did you ever meet any Indian fighters ?”’ “No. Why?’ “Nothing. Only most of them can’t read.” No Money In It. First Urehin—Didn’t yer fadder vote at der las’ election ?” Second Urchin—‘Naw. He's disgusted wid dis here Australian system.” “Wot's de matter wid that?” “He says taint no use botherin’ "bout elec- tions, w’en no matter how votes is sellin’ ye can only vote onct.” P A New Offense. Magistrate—‘What’s the charge against this man ¢” Officer—‘‘Impersonatin’ a fruit inspector, y'r honor.” “What did he do?” “He came along th’ kicked a fruit stand lookin’ at it.” street. y’r honor, an’ into th’ gutter widout An Encouraging Change. Tramp—‘Please mum, I'm nearly starved mum. I’m so weak IT can hardly crawl.” Housekeeper—“Tramps ip that condition are not so dangerous as the other sort. Goon with your starving, please.” Mamma’s Diaries. Little Girl—**The teacher says IT must get a diary, ard write in it all 1 do every day. Will you buy me one, mamma?” Mamma—*There are plenty of them up stairs in the lower bureau drawer, fifteen or twenty I think.” Little Girl—“But isn’t those ones written in?” Mamma—‘Ounly the first pages of each.” Nice Neighbors, House-Hunter.—*Do you live here, sonny ?” Little Boy—‘Yessir. In that Louse next above that empty one.” “IT see. Do \ou—er—hoave nice neighbors ?” “Yessir. No matter how mean we is to‘em, they don’t Say a word. Come around and see me break a winder. Settling Johnny. Little Johnny Upperten (impudently)—‘Say, does your mother take in washing for a living?’ Little Mary Lowerten (defiantly)—*Naw.” Johnny—*Well, she takes our wash, an’ she takes lots of others.” Little Mary—**She only does that to see wot sort 0’ neighbors she has; an’ she says your folks. sports silks an’ satins outside, and wears the meanest cheap cotton underclothes inside, an’ you've all got holes in y’rstockins’, an’ none of ye wash y'r necks; so there.” A Movable Feast. First Small Boy—“I can't play any longer. Time to go home to Thanksgiving dinner.” Second Small Boy--Thanksgivin’ was over two er three days ago.” : ee First Boy—“We always have our Thanksgivin’ a few days tate. Pop says turkeys an’ things is cheaper then, and there’s more to be thankful for." A Little Too Fast. Little Dot—“Papa says Edison is makin’ an engine wot will go two hundred miles an hour.” Little Dick (son of a railway president)— “There won't anybody buy it.” “Why not?” : ; "Cause it won't give the conductors time to take up tickets.” A Boy’s Explanation. First Little Boy—‘tIs we at war with any- body ?”" ss Second Little Boy—‘“In course not. “Then wot's the use of gettin’ up such a big navy ?” 3 x “So we kin sass back. <> - 2 > READ “Goovp News" Parlor Dramas in this issue. FOR SCROFULA scrofulous humor in the blood, ulcers, catarrh, and consumption, use Ayer’s Sarsaparilla The most economical, safe, speedy, and effective of ail blood-purifiers. Has Cured Others will cure you. 1378 GooD NEws. et OLD age is often beautiful, and properly 5% for itis the childhood of immortality. Wuy was Adam when he awoke like a mae who has no bones? He was bone-less, i THERE isn’t much waste to a nutmeg, a8 “grater” portions of it can always be used. _ ONE thing is sure—a man’s character EM impress us before his language can effect Us ~ THE wisdom you learn from another man's E experience never makes you look any oldel% How much disaster befalls us because persist in taking all our imaginings for real THERE is the element of a dude in every of ten or twelve when he imagines he is in 10% QUEEN VICTORIA is a believer in pets be hasa collection of forty dogs and some ae cats. A Goop many people, when they do foolist things, call it a bubbling over of their spirit nature. be A SILVER casket from the Queen is said 0 of one of the most treasured household gods Mr. Spurgeon. . SINCE you cannot tell to whom will fall task of writing your obituary, make @ offend no man. X68 THE first time a man steals a cent. he Jo" Vol and feels more guilty than the second tim) . 4 steals a dollar. Puzzle Corner. | {Original contributions solicited. Please do not send puzzles containing obsolete words. Address, “Puzzle iditor” Goop NEws, P. O. Box 2734, New York | City.) ae iy No. 1—CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. 1. In arms, not in legs. 2. In alms, but not in begs. 3. In lamp, not in light. 4. In scrainble, not in fight. 5. In pleasure, but not in delight. 6. In map, not in drawing. 7. In play, but notin toying. My whole one of our Southern —, No. 2—DIAMOND PUZZLE, 1. A consonant. 2. A vehicle. 3. An animal, 4, A boatinan, 5. A Hebrew of Palestine. 6. To light again. 7 Oblivion. 8 An animal. 9. A consonant. WILL U. SMYLE. No. 3—WorD SQUARE. 1. A girl's name. 2. An animal's den. Ae soe. pe acs Maga Our N THE proper place for a man’s foo 4. A wanderer. UR NED. a r " é to or stomach, but sea-sickness often turns if iD 7 oO. 4—CURTAILMENTS. v1 : ‘ other channels. “ Curtail an island, and leave what brewers 5 Apa SQuIRE BEESWAX. WHAT useless tears and troubles might ig saved the world if a son could begin whe father leaves off. stl SECOND thoughts are best, necause it 18 that ally the whipping aman gets for his sil) ‘ is father to them. is fat 5 hi the n E tall that “thor oy DRIFTING into evil comes so easy tha ya the is required of a man is to shut his eye’ a To mortify, and leave pure, A trefoil, and leave a spice. A woolen stulf, and leave to coagulate. PRINCE DARLING. No. 5—NAMELESS PUZZLE, IFWEHAVENEEDOFA Btrong will N is 2. Amap, and leave to burn. 3. 4. 6. e ome todo Go a eens a ncome A is ¥ 8 devil will do the rest, peertill i LL forusin Or Dernotto doevilf RoM Wh Ich sLY an ar ore Chee it O F tenresults Tha Tmo St Mod Estlif Eis eet Tee ee ren ther woue? m7 ; : ; ty No ce about admitting good looks in 0 Thatwhere theft Orce ofw Lilis oes et Cised. than pretty women are LA) E. LEO HUNTER. . F ;: ean ha ee ’ No. 6—TRANVOSITION. Sar THE FROG’S REVENGE; OR, ‘‘SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS.” “Waar is that ont there in the waterl Pine a Tam found in almost every town. “It's the bell-buoy." A Ut Tye , Behead and spell me backward, and you will | No, 3— < a Why, it’s ringing wet! liet pext ou q see that | am a noted city in California, Buffalo. Short Sto AMATEUR AcTRESS—“‘I appear in JU stil rtad} Jim NAST. ps. winter. What do you appear in 1 fon T than €. No. PpPesonane ‘ No. 4— wie ey gi Os Professional Actress—*“lights.” a atty that Your cloth . “Du” see it rap. , ; jl a wom: g se 16 } 2. Get soap. AVALE USvALy upright—Lamp-posts. a ee a ee the rer 3. Sup rum. TABLE q pe tuina~ ‘he els ve eae i octing shea a oe at in dca ALI o 7 NOT a square thing— The triangle. who tell her how good looking she ¥ 1 10%? ik Pp Saat wr . LEETS A FLAMING article —The flambeau. THE oft-repeated question of “Do teed - OLE o LZ. “ : ” : J 22 7 rave . One-sixth of spring, one-fourth of well, No. 5 Just in a minute”—sixty seconds. _ ae aan should rou snow ho teat of ring, ope fears of bell; Manchester. oo is a boaster like a game of cards? He ‘Soon ra Ph i riaté ‘hese letters four, if placed arignt, is a brag. : yop. An animal will bring to light. No. 6— : i SINCE the Legislature refused to PM, colt mimal wili b "Sots a mecha D para o iaptayaet 8 nose proves him to be an artistin | money to pay a Pity of ene mh pave mbuemen ll-life. yanies of the State, eight orga 2 vO. ALF SQUARE. ‘ ‘ : ‘ ’ . t No Pat ee et eae Oe _ THE fleroest eagle iu the sky imagines it is an ee fh de! yds ainger® G0 Riktar tout a innocent dove. HAT a pity 8 that s Ww : eee fruit. Dion—Otho, T ray : take their voices out and have em t to belP 8. rel, with white spots. HOSE who are not present always need and |... , oT boa williné 4. A number No. 7— lack a defender. eta cit as would be aa : = 4“ . vay for the tuning, 6. 4 Boman weight of ten ounces. a is worth doing is worth doing A VOLUME of smoke probably means a book ; iacediiad Gracia (paying for ee ; sonsonant, | of cigarette papers. ‘Cau i ; rk of & "7 7 00)—“Yours is the crowning W® y DANIEL LUSNIG. No. 8— 1. Hibernater. CUNNING is not wisdom ; we are liable to over- . Dignified Barber—"Yes, sir: me? in ® z 2. Lactescent. reach ourselves with it. 7 fession stand at the head. a 1“ asked ’ : . Meteorolites EVERY time you abuse yourself, you abuse “WHat do you ask for this artle Auswer's {0 Puzzles lll No. 84 Crood News. 2 Neti your best friend’s judgment. gentleman of a pretty shop gitl. eaeh : . ? WHAT fruit is that whose name answers toa| “Fifteen shillings, sir.” | 4 ne, 08 No. i— No. 9— M busy body? Medlar (meddler). “Aren't you a little dear?” said, }) the r ‘“ Bold—cold, gold, hold, sold, told. omet, come, com, CO. © Wny isacat on her hind legs like a water- reer she fe blushing, 0, 2— ‘ No. 10— - rN fall? She is a cat-erect (cataract). eat jnting 108 COB U us L P A MAN is criticised as much for looking too |, AN artist gave his latest pala c ra L ea ice as hie i ; to carry to the Academy. . «tne? CANOE Salt am kh nice as he is for looking too shabby. “Be careful, be careful,” said hes at CONCORD ELL APE 8 GLORY will do very well in homeopathic | jg scarcely dry.” . th nat? BOONE Loo P ar T doses; but it is poison, nevertheless. “Oh, never mind!” exclaimed qlotbes : KE 2 bE Lod E ri E THE first mention of “the gods” is in the | “It's of no consequence at ale” y A pe 8 te P epilogue to Garrick’s ‘‘Cymon” (1767). old !” __ ae Price 50 Cents. Popular Authors. |Good, News Binder.) Christmas Present, | GOLD WATCHES FRET We have received such a large number of in quiries from our readers for back numbers of Answers the purpose of a bound volume. ONLY THIRTY CENTS. t pot less *h8n Goop NEws containing our popwar stories, Holding fifty-two copies comfortably. 2 This unique Ring is com- that would Seavey Ste ERED agit . vee posed of rolled GOLD and By 2a ssola ps ie fi) — . a wate that we have been obliged to reprint some of Y ce bP Paces SILVER Wires, which are ‘\ the issues. We are, therefore, in a position to RS : - all orders for the stories complefe at the fol- ce mea pr. s frac tover's jereled and fice ede owing prices: ~ a ra accurate 14k : not be found, as it is suit- ee jd red Where He Got His Money, by Oliver " A able for all and taking to C are tiful ” aa WONT ec Nigti rier eyes signa nn 6ks 3 Numbers 165c. ne ip Saag theeye. Sent on receipt of ‘ee We flee ort I re on the Island, by Oliver ection a l am ee ; Price. 30 CENTS. Measure finger with wire, nce” latest fies? and 104 fa By CONES TS ACK, OCTET EKO LOL ‘ 5c. | | i R nda ee i ‘oC < Nothing But a Boy, by Oliver Optic.15 "Ye. 8 =o 4) | _R.& H- M'F'G CO. 10 Spruce St..N.Y. | opp our THIS ADVERTISENG vot in A Sail =D Spite of Himself,by Harry DOUBLE 5% WATCHES, BICYCLES us with 10 ete, in slver. and ea thal wing A gUe MOUTON. § 20.160, a. 3.20 30c. * UDEN BOX OF G the Guy Harris, the Runaway, by Harry | Breech-Loader All kinds cheaper than else: | money in one month than anything, ele capital ratty 1h OMMIOMIOM,. ct bievecass; cae 5c. | $7.99. where. Before you buy, | certainty, suitable for either sex, and 0, exe 415 Vat OS White-Horse Fred, by Harry Castle- | RIFLES $2.00 send stamp for catalogue ta} GRAND OFFER: We will oo ont Shan «bo ot pore AONE SOURS CEE, ait Peas ik apes 15C, THE PoweLt & CLEMENT Co, | and ABSOLUTELY FREE, one © 4 pe 3 GOS alt, en eilis. Gipsy Captive. by Edw. S. PISTOLS 75¢ eee Amat maha i an Amos with a ws nes wet Ns + oto bin 4. URUE cee Bhs he onh. de o@ws « ‘ * 35c. aan nan Pilon L anne ah in riba uu Ga. an moo ~ — meyers aye Sonya b ‘ e 0 Ransomed, by Edw. S. Ellis..:. .... 8)" 400. INSTANT RELIEF. Cure in 15 days cone also ae ilustrated cata ore, Wa ol un Among the Esquimaux, by Edw. S. Never returns. No purge. No salve. No eae chiaes te anots thts is ne humbug, but 8 of this Fin S/T GN aes tintin, power Ale Steeles | amma. 60c. suppository. REMEDY MAILED FREE. A@- | 5. 4 thorot tee weltabig howe 42 the readers gers Dl Siare of the Circus, by Walter Mor- dress J. H. REEVES, Box 3290,New York City,N.Y. este satisfaction is guaranteed. ae iaces new Pees Pee ire rd ok as Oe BC. —-—---_-__- —————— e Shifting Winds, by W. B. Lawson..10 “ 50c. LATEST STYLES, Beveled Edge, Bilk Fringe, Envelope py PE Ee tetas th The Young Duck Hunters, by W. B. ' CAR DS Sr Called Cae Uta Doles rs oa NRA CRS fy TO Bi : ; 7 ts eer Cadet Carey, “by Lieut. 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(Or See | upon receipt of price ten cents, by the publishers, and 200 other new specialties, “i, # stant h at nt Grit, the Yonng Boatman ‘of ’ Pine a STREET & SMITH, 31 Rose Street, New York, | 1 Puzzle and Catalogue TF opLARS hy n “Otin ic Point, by Horatio Alger, Jr ...12 ” 60c. / - ’ , oi . to pay mailing expense. © Be ndtSt- lon Z an aE aD recon by Horatio “Als “ eZ 7 / without donbt, the finest binder ever offered RALAINGERSOLL & BRO.65Cor oh et Ser ; Ot TT prt. eet 60c |. even for double tt ice we ask, ; ispe THE PEERLESS RECITER relat the Slope, by dguives tie. adie 6 u “4 85c. | to those who are. Sree te eaten Thon tale : , omer acd a FREE Zim somone ; he ence enn "The ¢ OP it mF cs ph! ay ale 80c. | preserves GOOD NeEws for future reference, and f ; eac! a The aboye writers are the best known and Being lost, but keeps them clean and in good onder is 3. & 8. Manual Library, No. 14, i 2 azine. amar aan ty : was | most popnlar authors of young people's stories | 18 buth useful and ornamental. PRICE, 10 CENTS. ce ~ ae readers, 800.1% $80 Mitt i paced to ¢ ac 0 r ° oe « as a durable black embossed cover with flexible | This book contains thirty-seven selected recitations, | i DP Fae ing them: |e witd Da} of, Dr. in this country. The numbers follow owing the | pack, anda gold stamp. title on the outside cover. It | pumorous, pathetic, and historical. All who desire to| “Qe asemem opens flat as any book, and each week’s paper can be | secure recitations that are bound to please the hearers | tee. Agenis Wanted. YOUT " myst eae a flenotesbe Dumber of issues of Goop News thé stories appeared fi. The hood ; ok’s paper will be sent postpaid to any address on receipt ite the aaa. insert- | will do well to examine this book. se ol for ass Ge of price stated above. Address bint will send the Goop News binder and a package of RE Cf 3 ee eaens ot wa) Se sent, postpaid. Be eure ands ror 20 STREET & SMITH nder pins, postpaid, to any address on receipt of 50 ihe aem aa cs oma haem he MOTHERS Soot ne SMITH, 31 Rose Street, New York. | cents. ' —<.,| STREET & SMITH, 31 Rose Street, New York. while Teet