; TY ek eee oil oe wma, Lor Bee a ore at eae = Se ia eee ee eB a Seems “= Pee Sa | On SR” Sa ES ea 7 is Sch Bi a da amen ttt me ee _ foeenamnendneerestil —— ra > 0 ENS LEN SE TY ' REUBEN GREEN'S ADVENTURES ; , é@ ee SSIS S\9 Sours ae ik 5 ; 3) WI PEST SLORIES: ae = aS ae Eniered According lo Aet of Congress, in the Year 1893, by Slreet & Smith, in es pa = SS SVs KS EFSF - = SK 5 SSE —_ 4 VW : anna ee oe ‘ ) Se t Ne 4% \ ly E i e R & . = » - > a 2 m ‘ » Y= - 7 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washingion, D. C. {ihe New Yori fe 4 Entered as Second-ciass Matie is, N.Y., Post-Office. Vol. 7, $1 Rose Street, P.O. Box 234 New York, May 6, 1893. ee tioe No. 157, REUBEN GREEN'S: ADVENTURES: Or, EF UN AND EFROLICS AT WALZLE. By JAMES OTIS, Author of ** Down the Slope,’ “Teddy's Venture,” “In the Bad Lands,” “The Golden Cross,’ “Through the Inland Passage,” “The Treasure Seekers,’ “ Ohased Through Norway,” ‘© Messenger No. 48, * The Counterfeité ‘s League,” ete. WAT 7 | i | | | UAH! i il We il il Uti |! eS WIN'WILL YOU GO AWAY i H Z egal AUS RT cece mi All mit i nT I ei ‘| atl mi bpm | one i A BEEN VE mess ne gz, Wiig eo —. AUN nT " >. Tm Me 9 / / | J ij “HATS OFF, GENTLEMEN! SALUTE!” THE ENTIRE PARTY BOWED VERY PROFOUNDLY. 2498 {This Story Will Not Be Published in Book-Form. } REUBEN GREEN'S ADVENTURES: OR, Fun and Frolics at Yale. — oe ——— BY JAMES OTIS. ——2@ CHAPTER I. REUBEN GREEN, FROM MAINE, fe HEN Reuben Green, aged eigh- WY teen, left the little village of ~\ Aurora in the State of Maine eo) bound for New Haven, he fancied his arrival would create a great deal of excitement. In his native village every man, woman, and child knew that “Rube Green was going to Yale;” but whether he would decide to become aclergyman or a law- yer no one, not even bimself, was able to say with any degree of certainty. It was the great excitement attending his departure that caused him to believe he wouid be an object of similar curiosity and interest in the collegiate town. Therefore, when, after a long and tedious ride, he stepped from the cars to the platform, and could not observe the slightest change in the appearance of those around him, he felt very much dis- appointed. The first thought was that this apathy arose from the fact that he was not known, and he walked proudly, with a-look-at-me-please air, to the collection of baggage which was piled ay in seem- ing confusion, selecting an old-fashioned, brass-nailed trunk with the name “R. Green” painted upon it. This he dragged across the platform with considerable noise; but succeeded in attracting no attention, save from the hackmen, who had been soliciting his patronage. When this had been done, and the in- habitants of New Haven took no notice of the fact that they had a distinguished stranger among them, he approached the driver of one of the carriages, and said in a tone loud enough to be heard by all standing around: “Tf you please, I would like to go to Yale College. How much do you charge for carying me there.” “By Jove, Roy! Here’s fair game for us. Another freshman, who looks as if he might have come from the place where they pry the.sun up with a crow-bar mornings,” Billy Moore said to his com- panion, Roy Moody, and the two juniors walked quickly toward the new-comer. “Are you a collegian, sir?” Billy asked, in his blandest tone. “What’s that?” Reuben said, in per- plexity. “T heard you say something about Yale, and thought yow might be a collegian.” “Oh, you mean am I going to school there?” : “Exactly,” Billy replied, as he tried to suppress a smile, while Roy turned around abruptky to give vent to his mirth, “Perhaps you have not been informed; but it [en't considered quite the thing for a fellow to ride in a hired carriage.” “But I. have my trunk, and can’t walk,” Reuben said, mournfully. “Of course not; that would be a grave infraction of the rules. Students never walk, except upon the written advice of the regular physician.” “But what am [I todo?” and Reuben looked around in bewilderment. “Stay here until the college carriage is sent for you. I suppose you notified the dean of you coming on this train?” “Why, no, I didn’t think that would be necessary.” : “Then you have treated him very rude- ly, and if you take my advice you will write him an apology at once. Tell him you are waiting at the depot until he sends a carriage. Don’t you think it would be the proper course, Roy?” “IT don’t see there is anything else he can do, unless he’s willing to enter in disgrace, which would be bad for a fresh- ~man like him.” “T may come from down East; but I - want you to understand I am not as fresh as I might be,” Reuben said, with a show of anger. : It was some moments before the juniors could make him understand that the term freshman is applied to all students dur- ing the first sear, and then he was cov- - ered with confusion. He made the most ample apology, and, as a peace offering, insisted on present- ing them with some apples. “I brought them all the way from Au- rora, for you know a fellow wants some- thing to eat at recess time, and yon can _ put them in your pockets till then.” Billy and Roy were “sober as judges” while receiving the fruit, and the former id avely: eon ca tis the driver of this car. riage to take your note of apology to the » dean, and then, unless he is very angry, the college turn-out will be sent.” “How shall I write it here?” “The young gentleman in the ticket- office is employed by the professors to provide the students with all necessary writiag materials. ‘ell him who you are, where you come from, and where you are going. That will be enough, and every- thing will be supplied.” While Billy was making these explan- ations, Roy had taken the driver aside, and whispered: “Take the letter, if he gives you one; charge him a dollar, and bring the thing to us at the hotel. I'll seethat you don’t get into trouble.” “It’s all very well to say,” the driver replied, with a grin; “but it’s many the fuss I’ve been in on &ccount of you and Mr. Moore.” “But you were always paid well, and cash atones for a multitude of sins.” “Right you are, Mr. Moody. I'll fix it in great shape.” “Come on, Roy,” Billy called, impa- tiently. “Greeny has gone to demand writing materials from the ticket-agent, and the fun will be too good to lose.” The two hurried away, to stand as near the open door as they could without dan- ger of being seen by their victim, when oe heard the following spicy conversa- ion: “My name is Green, Reuben Green,” the freshman began, as the agent stood waiting to serve him. “I have just come from Aurora, that’s below Bangor, you know, in Maine.” “T don’t care where you came from,” the gentleman said, impatiently, “what do you want?” was going to say I am a freshman.” “And you look uncommonly like one, I assure you. Now, if this isany lark such as you young gentlemen are so fond of, I want it understood that I am not in the humor for anything of the kind.” “IT don’t know anything about larks, except one I saw in Norcross’ store, and I can’t say I think much of them as birds, although I'm told they sing won- derfully,” Reuben — replied, gravely, “What I wanted tosay was that I am one of the scholars in Yale College, and I came here never thinking the dean should be notified. Now, I’ll be very much obliged if you will give me a sheet of writing paper and an envelope.” The agent looked at the speaker to as- sure himself the request was made in good faith, and turned away without a word, Reuben’ gazed at him a moment in sur- prise, and then repeated his last words again, “Will you go away, and leave me alone?” the agent asked, angrily, and in order to avoid further interruption, pulled the window down with a crash. This was sufficient to arouse Reuben’s ire. He had been told what his rights were, and Agana to have them then and there, for, as the son of the richest man’ in Aurora, he believed himself en- pe to more courtesy than ordinary people. “I want you to understand that you can’t impose on me,” he cried, angrily. “You shall lose your position before I’m a day older.” By this time Billy and Roy thought it best to interfere, \ “What is the matter?” the former asked, gravely, as he entered the station. “Why, this man refuses to give me what I want, although I told him I was going to Yale.” “Well, I wouldn't say anything about it now; he has a bad liver, and whenever the medical students take it away to’be cleaned he is apt to be crusty. Better tell the dean when you see him, and I warrant this fellow will be sorry for what he has done.” “Take his liver away!” Reuben re- peated. “Certainly, that is a very common thing down here, although I ought not have told you about it, for the matter is to be kept a secret until the process can be patented. Write your apolgy; the driver is waiting to take it, and you will be obliged to pay him for his time.” “But how can Ido it without paper?” “Use one of these telegraph blanks. It isn’t exactly the proper hing; but it will be un eratotd, under the circum- stances.” It was necessary for Reuben to wait several moments before he could control his temper sufficiently to pen what he in- tended should be a model letter, and then, with both Billy and Roy looking over his shoulder, he wrote such a mis- sive as nearly caused his newly-made friends to explode with suppressed mirth. “Now, what shall I do with it?” he asked, after reading it with considerable riae, “Hire the hack-driver to deliver it at once.” “Why wouldn’t it be as well for me to zo with him, and save the trouble of sending after me?” “My dear Green, it would be the worst FOOD IN: Su Ws. kind of form, and I beg you won’t think of doing anything or the kind. If you were a mere nobody the case would be different; but as it is, lam sure the other students would be very much _ disap- pointed if you failed to do exactly as I propose. You will receive a great deal of attention from them, for you are no ordi- nary freshman, that may be seen at a glance, and we must make the most of you while we can.” “Oh, I am perfectly willing to take your advice!” Reuben replied, quickly. “I will speak to the driver atonce. Then what had I better do?” “Sit right on your trunk and wait. By that means the college coachman. will recognize you without difficulty.” “Are you going to stay here?’ “Bless you, no. The physician directed that we remain out of doors only one hour, and we barely have time to get back. We shall see you again this even- ing.” PT hope so,” Reuben gt a and then as thetwo walked up the platform, he gave his order to the driver, thinking at the same moment that one dollar was a good deal of money to spend for such service, After this had been done, he seated himself on his trunk in the most conspicu- ous position possible to wait for the col- lege carriage, During the next hour he was consider- j}ably surprised to see so many young | gentlemen loitering around the station. They came in squads, and each one seemed to think it his solemn duty to walk past the freshman from Aurora; but Reuben was considerably puzzled to know what they saw to cause so much amusement, All were smiling or laughing outright when they came near him, and although he looked around carefully, there was nothing met his gaze which should call up so much as the ghost of a smile, CHAPTER Il. « MEETING FRIENDS. NHE freshman, one might say, the > very freshman, remained seated on ) his trunk during the two hours * which followed, and it is certain no person in or about the station at- tracted more attention than did he, The trunk, with the brass-headed nails, was pulled to the very edge of the plat- form, with the end projecting in order that the driver of the “college carriage” might see the name without difficulty, and, seated upon it, trying to preserve a dignified air, was the young gentleman from Aurora. It seemed just a trifle odd to him that he was kept waiting so long; but he was beginning to understand there was a deal of ceremony at a college, and attributed the delay to something of the kind. At the close of the long two hours the students disappeared from the station, and then Reuben saw a procession coming down the street, headed by his newly- made friends, “They’re going to give me a regular re- ception,” he said to himself, with a feel- ing of pees “Tf all the fellows are as agreeable as the two who told me about a carriage, I shall have a jolly time ere,” The procession was really arranged in his honor, as he learned a few moments later, It was composed of not less than fifty students, and they drew up in front of him with true military precision. Billy Moore, advancing two paces, wheeled sharply around, and, facing his companions, cried: “Make ready, gentlemen, to salute Mr. R. U. Green, whose name speaks for him- self. He has honored us by coming al the way from the village of Aurora—at some future time he will explain where that settlement is located—and it is for us to receive him with due ceremony. Hats off, gentlemen! Salute!” The entire party bowed very profound- ly, and once more Billy gave his com- mands: “Hats on! Stand at ease until I, the bearer of the dean’s apology, acquaint Mr. R. U. Green with the cause for the long delay in the reception ceremonies !” During this performance Reuben had risen to his feet, hat in hand, and, as Billy came forward, he said, in a hoarse whisper: " “You have made a mistake in my name, sir. It is Reuben—plain Reuben; I have no middle name.” “T beg your. pardon, Plain Reuben; but you must remember that when you enter Yale it is necessary to have a Class name, and we had decided it should be Ulysses, because of your strong resemblance to that sonof Laertes and Anticleia; but since you qualify it by the adjective, we accept the correction. Gentlemen,” he added, turning ta his companions, “this is not R. U. Green as I stated: but Plain Reuben. Salute Plain Reuben!” j Again they all bowed profoundly, while the loungers at the station gathered around to see the sport. Reuben was forced to return it, which he did with a queer little twist of the foot as if on the point of beginning a jig, and then whispered to the master of cere- monies: “I didn’t mean-that ‘Plain’ was a part of my name; I only wanted to say it was plain Reuben.” “Exactly, my dear sir, that is as I pro. nounced it. Now, Mr. Plain Reuben, al low me to offer the dean’s most humble apologies for not sending the college coach according to custom, when we have any rare freshmen among us. He wishes me to tell you that one of the pole horses has been suddenly afflicted with ticdou- loureux, and both the leaders have devel- oped symptoms of metacarpus on the lum- bar vertebrae. Under these distressing circumstances he asks if you will kindly consider an escort by the flowers of the college as sufficient honor?” “You are very kind,” Reuben stam- mered, not understanding more than half of what Billy had said. “I shall be only too glad to do as you wish.” “Our wishes are yours, Plain Reuben; but allow me to suggest that we march to the campus, where you will be received in due form by the entire faculty.” “What is the campus?” Reuben whis- pered, “A place where the professors camp out on the thirteenth and twenty-first of every month, in accordance with the old Greek custom. You remember those beautiful words written by Hic Jacet?” “Oh, yes!” the freshman replied, hesi- tatingly, and straightway he began to wonder whether the party spoken of was one of the teachers at this college. “Then you are ready to accompany us?” Billy asked, in a pleading tone as if a the request would not be complied with. “Y’ll do whatever you say is right.” “In that case we shall enjoy ourselves very much before the dean tucks us in our little beds.” “Does he rea}ly do that?” “Certainly. Have you forgotten the lat- ter portion of Hic Jacet’s poem?” “Of course not; I think I remember a little about it,” and just then nearly the whole escorting party saw something on the opposite side of the way, which caused them to turn their heads in that direction, “Being such a very freshman,” Billy continued, gravely, “it may be the dean will forget to attend to you, and if he does you must notify him at once of the omission.” “I will, I will,” Reuben replied, em- phatically, and again the young gentle- men found it necessary to turn their heads, “Now, if you’ll come down, we will do the honors,” Billy continued, as he raised his hat, “But what about my trunk?” “That shall be attended to without de- lay. We have Barnum’s old elephant trainer to look out for such things, and he is an expert.” Reuben leaped from the platform to the ground, and the students closed up, leav- ing him in the center of a hollow square. “Forward march!” the leader cried, and as the procession started Billy and Roy stationed themselves at the fresh- man’s side. “It is against the laws of the town for any of the tradespeople to bow to a fresh- man until after a proper introduction; but it gives a fellow considerable tone, if he shows that he is willing to conde- scend to salute every one as he passes.” “In what way?” “Take your hat off, and whenever you see any one looking at you, bow politely.” _ “Do you all dothesame?” Reuben asked in surprise. “No, it is only customary for the fresh- men to doso the first time they come here. You won't be called upon for any- thing of the kind again.” As a matter of course, the people on the streets looked at the procession curi- canes and, prompted by his adviser, Reuben began to bow right and left as if he was some distinguished visitor receiv- ing an ovation. It was comical in the extreme, and, try as they might, his escort could not keep their countenances straight. More than one covered his face with his handker- chief, and from the shaking of their bodies a stranger would have said they were stricken with grief. : “You are doing it great,” Billy whis- pered, “If you continue in this manner, I'll. warrant you’ll be the best known freshman in town.” This praise incited Reuben to redouble his efforts, and he bowed yet lower, until even Roy and Billy were forced to in- dulge in smothered laughter. ot content with exhibiting the young gentleman from Aurora during such time as it would be necessary to walk directly to the college grounds, the escort con- ducted him through the principal streets of the city, and when the victim was orn en tate A LLO LALA AO OOOO Pit cetacean ee ROO rai ON nen me ay ——*,, nn ~~, - é se es ee ea Sodgdmonrt ) thoroughly tired from the long journey he was allowed to enter the building in which Roy and Billy had theirchambers. Here he was taken to the latter’s room where were seated in great state three young men, who were introduced as the representatives of the faculty, waiting to exainine the freshman with a view to learning whether he was worthy of ad- mission to the college. “But father has paid for my schooling,” Reuben said to Billy, ‘so I can’t under- stand how they can keep me out, no mat- ter how little I know.” “It is the custom, my dear sir, and you had better conform to it, or there may be trouble.” “Let them go ahead, then, and we’ll see whether I don’t know enough to come here. Down East there wasn’t a spelling school within a dozen miles where I Gouldn’t hold-my end up with the best of them.” “That’s the way to talk, Plain Reuben; but you must answer their questions, just the same.” The “examiners” first asked the new- comer’s name, age, and place of residence, one of the three gravely pretending to write down every word. “Can you explain the whyness of the thus, according to the precept laid down by Socrates, Mr. Plain Reuben?” was the first question, and the victim looked around him in bewilderment. “Take the second proposition from Icarius, and show why that which exists cannot be.” Reuben’s eyes were opened to their full- est extent. “Prove that the segment of a circle, if multiplied by the square root of its length, will equal twice its circumfer- ence.” This was the “last straw that broke the camel’s back.” Reuben looked implor- ingly at Billy, who was standing like a statue by his side, and then at Roy, Both appeared to be very much inter- ested in the problems, and neither 30 much as glanced at him. “T didn’t learn them.kind of things at school, and Parson Wright never told me they would be asked,” he said, piteously. “Is it true you have been preparing for this examination, and have omitted the three fundamental questions upon which this seat of learning is founded?” “T don’t know any answers to ’em, and that’s afact. What is the ‘whyness of the thus,’ anyhow?” “It is not for you to ask. We are here for that purpose. Mr. Moody, will you inquire of the dean if he cares to see Plain Reuben after he has failed so sig- nally?” Roy left the room hurriedly, returning a moment later nearly out of breath as if he had been running, and said: “It is no use to trouble him now; he has some very important business. on hand, making a microscopic investigation of the nebula of Venus; but perhaps it would be as well for “Plain Reuben to call upon the dean’s clerk, if he cares to make any explanation as to his failure in the examination.” : Then the “examiners” put the query to the unhappy freshman, and he replied, mournfully: “I s’pose I might as well go through the whole thing; but it don’t seem to be of much use, for I can’t even understand the questions.” “That is unfortunate for you, but re- lieves us of the disagreeable duty of fin- ishing the examination. Mr. Moore, since the young gentleman appears to be your friend, will you conduct him to the dean’s clerk? We have madea great mis- take in allowing him an escort of honor,” Reuben, looking as if ready to burst into tears, was taken from the chamber, and the remainder of the party prepared to continue the sport. (TO BE CONTINUED). ————__ > +> LARGEST FARM IN THE WORLD, This is a farm in the south-west of the State of Louisiana, measuring 100 miles north and south, and 25 miles east and west. The 1,500,000 acres of which it 1S made up were purchased seven years ago from the State of Louisiana and from the United States Government by asyndicate of Northern capitalists, by which it is now farmed, This immense tract is divided into con- venient pasture stations, or ranches. Al the cultivating, ditching, etc., is done by steam power. Harrowing, sowing, etc., is done in the same way, and there is not a single draught horse on the estate. Horses are, however, used by the herds- men, who look after the 16,000 head of cattle upon the estate, which is traversed for 36 miles by the Southern Pacific Rail- way. The company has three steamboats upon the 300 miles of navigable waters which traverse their estate, and also Donsesses a ship-yard, a bank, and rice mills, iThis Story will not be Published in Book-Form,| A BOY’S FORTUNE; OR, THE Strange Adventures of Ben Baker. By HORATIO ALCER, Author of “Adrift in the City,” “Grit,” “Frank and Fearless,” “Dan the Detective,” “Plucky Paul Palmer,” ete. senile (‘A Boy’s FORTUNE,” was commenced in No. 149, Back numbers can be vbtained of all News Agents. paige aks CHAPTER XXVI, INTRODUCES TWO CELEBRITIES, ‘HAT a change a short half-hour may make in the position and feelings of any person! Little did Ben imagine, when he set out on a drive in the morning with Major Grafton, that he was on his way to one of the most hopeless of prisons. It was hard even now for him to realize his position, He looked from the window, and with a glance of envy saw in a field, not far away, some Swiss peasants at work. They were humble people, living a quiet, uneventful, laborious life; yet Ben felt that they were infinitely better off than he, provided he were doomed to pass the remainder of his life in this ref- uge. But of this he would not entertain the idea. He was young, not yet seven- teen, aud life was full of pleasant possi- bilities. “Tam a Yankee,” he thought, “and I don’t believe they will succeed in keep- ing me here long. I will keep a bright lookout for a chance to escape.” Half an hour later Ben heard the key grate in the lock, and, fixing his eyes on the entrance, he saw Francois enter. “Monsieur, dinner is ready,” he said. Ben, notwithstanding his disagreeable situation, felt that he, tov, was ready for the dinner. He was glad to find that it was not to be served to him in his own room. He would have a chance of seeing the other inmates of the house. “Where is it?” he asked. “Follow me,” answered Francois, of course in French, He led the way, and Ben followed him into a lower room, long and narrow, which was used as the dining-room. There were no side windows, and it would have been quite dark but for a nar- row strip of window near the ceiling. Around a plain table sat a curious col- lection of persons. It was easy to see that something was the matter with them, for I do not wish to have it understood that | all the inmates of the house were, like our hero, perfectly sane. M. Bourdon was not wholly a quack, but ne was fond of money, and, looking through the eyes of self-interest, he was willing to con- sider Ben ‘insane. although he knew very well that he was as rational as himself, “Sit here, monsieur,” said Francois. Ben took the seat indicated, and nat- urally turned to survey his immediate neighbors, The one onthe right hand was a tall, venerable-looking man, with white hair and a flowing beard, whose manner Showed the most perfect decorum. The other was a thin, dark-complexioned man, of bilious aspect, and shifty, evasive eyes. Neither noticed Ben at first, as the dinner appeared to engross their first at- tention. This consisted of a thin broth and a section of a loaf of coarse bread as the first course. Ben had been accustomed to more luxurious fare, and he was rather surprised to see with what enjoyment his neighbors partook of it. Next came a plate of meat, and this was followed by a small portion of grapes. There was noth- ing more. It was clear that M. Bourdon did not consider rich fare good for his patients. “I think T would rather dine at the hotel,” thought Ben; but the diet was not by any means the worst thing of which he complained. “Tf I were free I would not mind how poor and plain my fare was,” he thought. His companions finished dinner before him, and had leisure to bestow some at- tention upon him, “My little gentleman, do you dome from Rome?” asked the venerable old gentleman on his right. “No, sir,” answered Ben. “1 am sorry. I wished to ask you a question.” : “Indeed, sir. Perhaps { might answer it even now. I have been in Florence.” “No; that will not do; and yet, per- haps, you may have met persons coming Pe geet : “T did, monsieur. “Then perhaps they told you how things were going on. : cosa “Very well, I believe, monsieur. “No, that could not be,” said the old : CGooD NEWS. gentleman, shaking his head. “I am sure nothing would go well without me.” “Do you, then, live in Rome?” asked Ben, curiously. “Surely!” exclaimed the old man. “Did you not know that the Pope lived in Rome?” “But what has that todo with you, sir?” “A great deal. Know, my little gentle- man, that I—to whom you are speaking —am the Pope.” This was said with an air of import- ance. “There’s no doubt about his being in- sane,” thought Ben. “How, then, do you happen to be here?” asked our hero, interested to see what his companion would say, “T was abducted,” said the old gentle- man, lowering his voice, “by an emissary of the King of America. M. Bourdon is a cousin of the king, and he is in the plot. But they won’t keep me here long.” “T hope not,” said Ben, politely. “The King of Spain has promised to send an army to deliver me. I only re- ceived his letter last week. You will not tell M. Bourdon, will you?” “Certainly not,” answered Ben. “It is well; I thought I could rely upon your honor.” “My friend,” said another voice, that of his left neighbor, “you are losing your time in talking with that old fool. The fact is, he isn’t right here,” and he touched his head. The Pope appeared deeply absorbed in thought, and did not hear this compli- mentary remark. “He thinks he is the Pope. more the Pope than I am,” Ben nodded non-commitally. “He ought to be here. But [—I am the victim of an infamous horde of| enemies, who have placed me here.” “Why should they do that, sir?” “To keep me out of myrights. It is the English Government that has done it. Of course, you know who I am.” “No, sir, I don’t think I do.” “look well at me!” and the dark man threw himself back in his chair for in- spection. “I am afraid I don’t recognize you, monsieur,” said Ben. “Bah! where are your eyes?” said the other, contemptuously. “lam Napoleon Bonaparte !” “But I thought you died at St, Helena,” said Ben. “Quite a mistake, I assure you. The English Government so asserted, but it was a deception. They wished my mem- ory to die out among my faithful French. They buried my effigy, but smuggled me off in a vessel late at night.- They placed me here, and here they mean to keep me —if they can, But some day I shall es- cape; I shall re-enter France; I shall summon all to my banner, and at the head of a great army I shall enter Paris. Do you know what I will do then?” “What will you do, sir?” asked Ben, with some curiosity. “T’shall descend upon England with an army of five millions of men,” said the dark man, his eyes flashing, “and burn all her cities and towns.” “That will be rather severe, won't it?” asked Ben. “She deserves it; but I may do worse.” “How can that be?” “Do you see that man over on the other side of the table—the short, red-haired man?” “Yes, I see him.” “He isachemist, and has invented a compound a thousand times more powé€r- ful than dynamite. I am negotiating for it, and, if I succeed, I mean to blow the whole island out of the water. What do you think of that, eh?” he continued, tri- umphantly. “T think in that case I shall keep away from England,” answered Ben, keeping as straight a face as he could. “Ay, you will do well.” Here the conversation ended, When dinner was over, the boarders passed out of the room, Ben among them. He was destined not to go out quietly. Suddenly a wild-looking woman darted toward him, threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming: “At last I have found you, my son, my son !” Ben struggled to release himself, as- sisted by Francois, who did not scruple to use considerable force. “None of your tricks, madame!” he cried, angrily. “Will you take from me my boy?” she exclaimed, piteously. “There is some mistake. I am not your son,” said Ben. The woman shook her head sadly. “We disowns his poor mother,” she said, mournfully. On the whole, Ben was rather glad to return to his chamber. : “I don’t like my fellow-boarders,” he thought. “Isha’n'tstay in the maison ae fous any longer than I am obliged oO. te is no 2499 CHAPTER XXVII. A MIDNIGHT ESCAPE. a) a}> OR three days Ben —— a dull, FE uniform existence, being most of Af) the time confined to his chamber. -<“* To a boy of active temperament it was most irksome. If he only had some- thing to read the hours would pass more swiftly. Fortunately, on the second day, he bethought himself of Francois, who seemed friendly. “Francois,” he said, “can’t you get me something to read ?” “I don’t know,” said the attendant, doubtfully. “What would monsieur like?” “Anything you can find. I would prefer a story.” “I will try, monsieur.” The next time Francois made his ap- pearance he held in his hand a tattered edition of a popular novel. “Will that do?” he asked. Ben had never heard of the book, but on opening its pages it looked attractive, and he answered: “Yes, Francois, lam much obliged to you.” He thought it politic, remembering that he might need other favors, to put a franc piece into the hand of the friendly attendant. Francois brightened up. His wages were so sma]] that these little gratuities were very welcome. “Would monsieur like something else?” he inquired. “There is one thing I would like very much, Francois,” answered Ben, “What is that, monsieur?” “To get out of this place.” “But monsieur is insane.” “T am no more insanethan youare. Do I look insane?” “No; but one cannot always tell.” “I would give a hundred francs to any one who would get me out of this,” said Ben, not, however, expecting to produce much impression on the mind of his auditor. “A hundred francs!” repeated Francois, his eyes sparkling. But in a moment he looked sober. “It would not do, I should be dis- charged,” he said. ° “Think it over, Francois,” said Ben. The attendant did not answer, but the suggestion had borne fruit. It may be asked how Ben had so much money. It may he explained that he was about to send a remittance home, having received a payment from Major Grafton, but his unexpected arrival at the refuge had prevented. He had with him two ee francs, or about forty dollars in zold. E Something happened on the third day which worked favorably for Ben’s hopes of securing the active assistance of Fran- cois. About dusk a boy appeared at the gate of the asylum, and asked to see Francois. When the two were brought together, he said: , “I came from your wife. She wishes you to come home. The child—little Marie—is very sick.” Poor Francois was much disturbed. In a little cottage five miles away lived his wife and his only child, Marie. The poor fellow was deeply attached to his child, for it must be remembered that the poor and simple-minded are quite as apt to have strong affections as the richer and more favored. : “Ts she very bad, Jean?” he asked, quite pale. “Yes,” answered Jean. “I think she is out of her head. She keeps moaning. Her poor mother is very much frightened,” “T will ask if Iean come,” said Fran- cois, and he straightway sought out the doctor. “I would like to speak to you, M. Bour- don,” he said. “Speak quick, then, for I am busy,” said the doctor, gruffly, for something had happened to disturb him. “Jean Gault has just told me that my little Marie is very sick, and my wife wants meto comehome. If I could go now, I would come back in the morning.” “Well, you can’t go,” said the doctor, harshly. “But, Monsieur le Docteur, do you understand that my child—my little Marie—is very sick? She moans, and is out of her head, and I may never see her again, if I don’t go.” “Plague take your little Marie!” said M: Bourdon, brutally. “What have-I to do with her? I want you to stay here. You know very well that you can’t be spared.” ‘ “But,” protested Francois, indignantly, “do you think because I am poor that I have no feeling? You are very much mis- — taken. I cannot stay away and let poor Maire die without seeing her.” : “You can’t go, at all events,” said M. Bourdon, roughly. “T cannot go?” “No; or if you do, you will lose your place. I cannot have my men going away t * e ~ 2500 GOOD NEW S. I don’t believe He has on every silly pretext. your child is sick at all.” “But Jean Gault is below. brought word from.my wife.” “T dare say it is all planned between ou.” “Then you will not let me go?” “No, I won’t. If you go, you lose your place. [I shall not take you back, Do you understand?” “Yes, I understand,” said Francois, slowly. “Then you can go. We have had words enough about this.” If the doctor had not been irritated he would have been careful] how he dealt with Francois, who was the most valu- able man in his employ. -But when we are irritated we lose sight of what is politic, and are apt to make grievous mistakes, as M. Bourdon certainly did on this occasion, Francois sought out little Jean. “Jean,” he said, “go home and tell my wife that I will comesome time to-night. The doctor has forbidden me to go, but I shall go, all the same. Be sure you tell no one else.” “Very well, Francois,” answered the Oy. orl my wife I may be late, but I will surely come.” The boy went away, and Francois went - up to Ben’s room. “Monsieur, I have something to say to you,” he commenced, “What is it, Francois?” “You said you would give a hundred francs to any one who would get you out of this?” “Yes, Francois,” answered Ben, quick- y- : “Have you so much money with you, then?” asked Francois, doubtfully. “See here!” and Ben took out five napoleons, gyhich he displayed in his open palm. The attendant’s eyes sparkled. “And you will give them to me, if per- chance I set you free?” “Yes.” “Listen, then. I would not do it, but my little Marie is very sick, and my wife wants me to come home. Perhaps she may die;” and peace fellow suppressed a sob. “But M. Bourdon—that is, the doctor—he says I shall not go. He said ‘plague take your child!’ ” continued Francois, wrathfully. “Poor Francois,” said Ben, compassion- ately. “Ah! you feel for me, little monsieur,” said Francois, gratefully. “The doctor has a heart like a stone. He says if I go - I shall not come back; but I do not care, I cannot stay away. I will go, and you shall go with me, Can you walk five miles?” “T can walk ten—fifteen, if necessary,” said Ben, promptly. “Then be ready at midnight. We will o together. It will not do to go earlier. hen the doctor will be asleep. Every one else will be asleep, and we can go away unobserved. M. Bourdon will be sorry that he did not let me go. I prom- ised to come back.” And Francois’ eyes sparkled with honest indignation. Ben’s heart beat high with hope. “You will come tomy room at mid- night?” he said. “Yes, monsieur.” “T will be ready.” - “One thing, monsieur, Do not have your shoes on. You can carry them in your hand. We must not makoany noise when we are going down stairs, or we may be caught.” oe “That is well thought of, Francois. De- pend upon me. I will be ready.” It will easily pe supposd that Ben did not goto bed. He sat waiting patiently - hour after hour till, as midnight struck, his door was softly opened, and Francois appeared. — “Now,” said the attendant, “follow me, and make no noise.” Ben, in his stocking feet, followed the attendant down stairs. Producing a large key. Francois opened the outside door, then closed it softly, and they stood out- side under a starlit sky. CHAPTER XXVIII. BEN’S FLIGHT. S good luck would have it, Ben and Francois departed without “4 being observed. On emerging a from the asylum they at first ran, _after putting on their shoes, but when a ot of a mile had been traversed, th tear ped into a walk. _ “Well, we got away safely,” said Ben. “Yes; the doctor was asleep. We shall not be missed till morning.” “And then it shall be my fault if I am caught. Where is your home, Francois?” “Five miles away.” “Yes, but is it on my way?” “Where would monsieur go?” “To Paris.” “To Paris!” ejaculated Francois, with “Yes, I think it must be a thousand miles away.” “But monsieur isa boy; he cannot walk so far.” “No,” answered Ben, laughing. “I don’t propose to. Is there any railroad station near your house?” “Yes, monsieur, only five minutes off.” “That will do very well.” “And has monsieur money enough?” “Not to go all the way to Paris, but half-way there, perhaps,’ “And is not monsieur starve—without money?” “T think I can get along,” said Ben, slowly, for it dawned upon him that it would not be a very pleasant thing to be penniless in a foreign country. “T will give back half the money mon- sieur has given me,” said Francois, ina friendly tone. “No, Francois, you will need it all. I am not afraid.” After a walk of an hour and a half the two pedestrians reached a small village set among the hills. Francois began to walk faster, and to look more eager. “Does monsieur see that cottage?” he said. Ben’s eyes rested on the humble cot- age just out of the village. “ Ye ~~ ” afraid he will ose is mine. Will monsieur come with me ” “Yes, I will go to see if your little girl is alive. Soon they were at the door. There was a light burning in the main room. A plain, neat woman opened the door. “Thank Heaven!” she exclaimed, “it is Francois.” “Is—is Marie alive?” “Yes, my husband. She has had a change for the better.” “Heaven be praised |” “And who is this young gentleman?” “A friend,” answered Francois, after some hesitation. “Then I am glad tosee him. Welcome, monsieur.” “Come in, monsieur,” said Francois. “T think I had better goto the station.” “The cars will not start till seven o’clock. Monsieur will need repose.” “But I don’t wish to incommode you.” “My wife will give you a blanket, and you can lie here,” : Ben accepted the invitation, and stretched himself out on a settee. “1 will wake you in time,” said Fran- cois. “Be tranquil.” CHAPTER XXIX, BEN IS MISSED, ust—not dreaming of the loss ~ es is establishment had sustained. He did not open his eyes till five o’clock. Usually at that hour Francois was stir- ring, as he had morning duties to per- form, But M. Bourdon did not hear him bustling around as usual, At first this did not strike him, but after a while he began to wonder so “The lazy dog!” he said to himself, “He is indulging himself this morning, and his work will suffer.” He went to the door of his chamber, and called “Francois!” Francois slept in an upper room, but still the asylum was not a lofty building, and he should have heard. “He must be fast asleep, as usual,” grumbled M. Bourdon. “I must go up and rouse him. It would be well if I had a #orsewhip.” Slipping on a part of his clothing, the doctor crept up stairs, He knocked at the door of his dilatory servant. “Francois! Francois, I say. dead ?” There was no answer. “TI suppose he has locked his door,” muttered the doctor, as he tried the latch, But no! the door opened, and, to his dismay, the room was empty. The bed had not been disturbed. The doctor’s face was dark with anger. “The ingrate has left me, after all. He has gone to his child, who is not sick at all, I dare say. Well, he will repent it. I will not take him back.” — Here the doctor paused. It would be exceedingly inconvenient to lose Fran- cois, who, besides being acapable man, accepted very small sg “At any rate, I will lower his wages!” he said. “He shall regret the way he has served me.” It was atemporary inconvenience. Still there was an outside man whom. he could impress into the service as a substitute, and inaday or two Francois would be glad to return, It was _not, perhaps, so serious a matter after all. But M. Bourdon changed his mind when he found the front door unlocked. “Who had escaped, if aneY This was the question he asked him- self. In great haste he went from one room to another, but all seemed to be oc- J! the sleep of the just—or the un- h Are you oderment. “That is a great way off, is not?” | oof EANWHILE, M. Bourdon slept Ben’s room that he ascertained that the one whom he would most regret to lose had decamped. Ben’s bed, too, was but little disturbed. He had slept on the out- | side, but not within the bed, as was but too evident, “Has any one seen the boy?” demanded M. Bourdon of an outdoor servant who slept outside, but was already on duty. “Not I, Monsieur le Docteur.” “Then he must have escaped with Francois! Put my horse in the carriage at once,” Ten minutes later M. Bourdon was on his way to the cottage of Francois. Fifteen minutes before he arrived Fran- cois had aroused our young hero. “It is time to get up, little monsieur,” he said. “In half an hour the cars will start.” Refreshed by his sound sleep, Ben sprang up at once—he did not need to dress—and was ready for the adventures of the day. “Where is the station, Francois?” he said, “T will go with monsieur.” “No; if the doctor should come, delay him; so that he cannot overtake me,” “Perhaps it is best.” Ben followed the directions of his humble friend, and soon brought up at the station. He purchased a third-class ticket for a place fifty miles away, and waited till it was time for the train to start. Meanwhile, M. Bourdon had driven up to the cottage of Francois. The door was opened to him by Francois himself. “Where is that boy? Did he come away with you?” he asked, abruptly, “What boy?” asked Francois, vacantly. “The one who came a few days since, You know who I mean.” Francois shrugged his shoulders. “Ts he gone?” he asked. “Of course he is, fool.” Just then the wife of Francois came to the door. Unfortunately, her husband had not warned her, nor did she know fiat Ben had been an inmate of the asy- um. “Where is the boy who came here last night with your husband?” asked M. Bourdon, abruptly. “Gone to the station,” answered the woman, unsuspiciously, The doctor jumped into his carriage, and drove with speed to the station, (TO BE CONTINUED.) —_—_ PS A SURSTITUTE EDITOR. “Who is that sad-looking man whom I saw sitting in the next room as I came through?” said Mr. Jones to the editor, “That? That is Nason, our substitute editor.” “What is a—what are the functions of that kind of an editor’ “Why, you know, we employ Nason to shoulder disagreeable consequences of all kinds. When we ‘go for’ anybody until outraged nature can no longer stand it, the injured man calls, and we show him in and let him kick Nason.” ‘ “But I don’t exactly understand ow———” “Why, you see, the man comes here and asks to see the editor. The boy at the door knows from the fire in his eve what he wants, and he turns him into Nason’s room, There is a brief scrimmage, and about a quarter of an hour afterward Nason saunters in here with his hand- kerchief to his nose to say that his sal- ary must be raised. “He is avery useful man. By concen- trating all the storm on him the regular staff is allowed to have perfect peace and security. He is horsewhipped once or twice a week, and knocked down even oftener. We have the floor in there padded on purpose to make it as comfortable as possible. He don’t mind an ordinary flog. ging so much, but the man has a strange disinclination to be shot at, fens be- cause he has three bullets in his legs and another incrusted somewhere in his in- terior department. “But Nason don’t mind his ordinary duties as much as you would think. We turn all the bores upon him. He com- mands a'‘large salary because he is as deaf as a post, and a bore who would set me crazy leaves him in a condition of un- ruffled calmness. All the poets who come here are sent to his room, “Whenever there is an excursion on a dangerous part of anew railway, or a trial trip of a new steamboat that we are doubtful about, we always send Nason to represent the staff. He has been blown up twice, and has been dropped eight times through a defective bridge, besides participating in a couple of boiler explo- sions.’ . “He struck me as looking rather low- spirited.” “So he #s. He has naturally a strong constitution, but he is gradually break- ing down under thestrain. I’m afraid, cupied, It was only when he opened Chinese Executioners. fetter eeeeienel sy ONCE visited Canton with some ‘I companions, and, of course, we did G ! the sights there. = During our meanderings in the city our €ars were assailed with “cumshaw! cumshaw !” yelled by immature posses- sors of pigtails, and mature possessors echoed the sound wherever we went. When the younsgters’ requests were not complied with, they, after a little, in- variably changed their cry to “Fanquai! Janquai! Foreign devil! foreign devil |” We marched iuto the magisterial yamun. Here we were shown the instru- ments whereby bamboo chow chow is given to the nadal callosities of: the wicked, also ratans and short bludgeons for slapping the faces of untruthful wit- nesses, Cthumb-screws, and racks for exact- ing confessions (no criminal can be exe- cuted according to the laws of China un- til he has confessed his crime), We were next taken in our sedan chairs, through an overcrowded, busy part of the city, to the execution ground. The execution ground we found to be a small inclosed rectangular space, about fifteen yards by fifty, entered by a gate, On the right, on entering, ran a row of small squalid houses, the habitations of potters, whose rough, unbaked work lay all about on the ground, drying in the sup, but we were informed that it was cleared away when an execution was about to'take place. Facing the potters’ houses was a high wall, at whose base, and leaning against it, were some large crocks, all of which had their mouths earthed over except one. Here our guides introduced us to three poorly-dressed Chinamen, whom we noticed gambling at a fan-tan table near the gate on our arrival. One, a_ big, brutish-looking fellow, with a villainous cast in one of his eyes, was the head executioner, and the other two, who were smallish men, were his assistants. Through our guide we told the head executioner that we wished to see the instruments of his calling, and thereon he produced a short, very heavy following conversation was carried on be- tween us and this “boss” through the medium of our guide. ; “How do you usetbis sword? Where is the block?” “We don’t use a block. What we do is to make the prisoners knee] down in two rows, facing one another, and bending their heads down, Then 1 take the sword, and chop, chop, one on each side, and the heads fall off; so on, till. they’re all done, as you’d switch the tops off green weeds with your walking-stick.” “But you don’t always chop a head off with one blow?” “ Always.” “What is the knife for?” ’ “For the ling che, or death by many cuts. We tie the culprit who is con- demned to this death to that cross there” —pointing to two rough unbarked sticks roughly crossed—“and we commence by cutting off the eyelids, ears, nose, and so on ending by sticking the knife into the heart. The cuts vary from eight to a hun- dred and twenty, according to the hein- ousness of the culprit’s crimes.” “What class of criminals are condemned to the ling che?” “Parricides, matricides, and women who have killed and mutilated their hus- bands form the majority.” “How many persons have you executed in a day?” “T have chopped twenty heads off my- self in two minutes,” “What is done with the bodies?” “The friends take the bodies away, but we Race the heads in the crocks over by the wall there, and when we have a large number which are no longer identifiable, we bury them. Would you like to see some of the heads?" We declined, and one of my companions began to grow pale and complain of not feeling well, so we ordered the guide to lead us away. THE MICROPHONE. The microphone, if it does not already do as much as the microscope in its own department, does a great deal in that direction. Last year a lady in Russia was saved from premature burial by the help of this instrument, a medical man being thus enabled to detect a faint beat- ing of the heart which had escaped the ordinary test. The instrument is as yet in its infancy, comparatively speaking, having been invented only fifteen years ago; and already it renders audible at many miles’ distance the fall of a bit of tissue paper or the tread of a fly. ~~ 0 A BFLL that could be heard ata distance of 45,000 feet in water could be heard at a distance of only 656 feet in the open air. Dogs parking on the earth can be heard by balloonists sailing and is going to die early.” ata height of four miles, ' two-handed sword and a long knife. The nc Ne ee : aS a ae Sy ut - | é} m\. a a _ - would advise you to go on with business | them.” GOooDnp NEWS. 2501 a Bers ee Me Etealin’d Sh Pook ey} | “We shall have every one about your! “And you think the inkstands and pens i f jestablishment watched, Mr. Sumner,” | have something to do with the matter?” H F ; N BOX MY F RY: the superintendent had said. “And I “Yes, sir. Perhaps he’ll say I stole 9 OR, STOLEN RAILROAD BONDS. By EDWARD STRATEMEYER, Author of “Jack, the Inventor,” “Reuben Stone’s Discovery,’ “Captain Bob's Secrei,” etc. (“THE VIN BOX MYSTERY” was commenced in No. 154, News Agents.] CHAPTER X. HAL IS ACCUSED. HEN Hal Carson locked himself into the closet of the club-room, he realized that he was in a perilous position. Supposing somebody undertook to open the door? hey might suppose it very strange to find the door locked, and think it necessary to open it, in which case he would be discovered in short order. He remained perfectly quiet for a long whike and beard Churchley admitted, and heard the man seat himself at the center table and rustle the paper he was perusing. : : Of the conversation carried on by Ferris and Hardwick he learned nothing further, and he was, consequently, totally in the dark concerning the nefarious plot that had been formed to get him into serious trouble, Ten minutes passed and the youth be- gan to wonder how long ie would have to remain a self-inade prisoner. Then all became quiet in the room be- yond, and he wondered if Churchley had not joined the two in the adjoining apart- ment, He peered through the key-hole, but could see nothing but a portion of the wall opposite, Growing bolder, he turned the key in the lock, and cautiously opened the aoor for the space of several inches. Looking out, he saw that Churchley still sat at the table, away. At that instant the man moved and gave a deep breath. Hal thought he in- tended to look around, and hastily closed the door once more. The youth’s movement was so quick that the door made a sharp sound as the catch clicked. This was followed by the sound made by the key in the lock as Hal once more imprisoned himself. Hal almost held his breath as he heard hurchley jump up. Who’s thoret” called the man, Hal made no reply. : Then Churchley came and tried the door. “Hullo! the door’s locked! At that moment Hardwick entered, fol- lowed by Ferris. st hee “Somebody in the closet?” cried Hard- wick. “There seems to be.” “Open the door.” “IT can’t. It’s locked. “Who is in there?” keeper. Of course, Hal did not answer. ¥ “Perhaps it was a rat,” suggested Fer- called the book- VISi~ = “Might have been,” grumbled Church- ley. “I know there are plenty of them in the building, because I once ran across one in the hall-way.” ; “Where is the key?” said Hardwick. “We'll soon find out.” “1 don’t know.” “Tt ought to be in the lock.” “Perhaps Jackson carted it off. He’s an odd sort of a coon.” Hardwick looked around on the mante and in several other places. “It’s gone,” He sane over and shook the door. “See if the ear i on the inside of the lock,” suggested Ferris. ; ‘At these words Hal put down his hand and felt to make sure that the key was turned to one side. 7 “I can’t see anything,” said Hardwick, after an examination. ates “Then Jackson must have put it in his ocket,” said Churchley. . “Perhaps it was nothing but a rat after all,” said Ferris. “T have half a mind to run up and ask Jackson,” said pee “Ke lives right on the floor above.” 20h. don’t bother!” returned Church- ley. “If it’s a rat you may besure he has gone back to his hole long ago.’ A little more conversation followed, to which Hal listened intently, and then the youth heard Hardwick and Ferris go out. Churehley continued to read the papers, and during that time the youth hardly dared to move fed toms ne man might re- his investigation. eoput at the end of the hour Churchley gave a yawn and arose, Then two more which was but a few feet | . THE Back numbers can be obtained of all a men entered the room, and the trio ad- journed to the other apartment. Making sure that the coast was clear this time, Hal unlocked the door and let himself out. Then he locked the door | again, and threw the key under the table. | “Phat will tend to stop suspicion,” he | reasoned. “And I must be sharp in deal- | ing with these rascals.” He tiptoed his way to the door leading to the hall-way, and was soon outside, Hardwick and Ferris had gone long | before, and below all looked deserted. It | was still snowing heavily, and Hal niade ! up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to return to his boarding- He was soon on the elevated train, and riding down town, Happening to glance toward the other | end of the car in which he was seated, | he saw Dick Ferris sitting in the corner | apparently absorbed in thought. “I’m glad I spotted him,” thought Hal. | “TIT must take care he does not see me.” | | agreed. house. ly as if nothing unusual had happened.” And to this the elderly broker had Hal watched Hardwick narrowly, and the book-keeper showed plainly that he did not appreciate the attention. Once he put his hand on Hal’s arm and glared at him. “What are you looking at me for?” he demanded, in a low tone, so that Mr. Sumner might not hear. “Was I looking at you?” asked Hal, in- nocently. “Yes, you were, and I don’t like it.” Hal bowed, and turned away. Never- theless, he still kept watch on the sly. Presently, just before the time that Hardwick usually went out for lunch, he saw something which he thought rather odd, although of no great importance. On a small shelf over one of the desks rested two new inkstands and several boxes of pens, wick pretended to be busy examining | some papers. While thus engagea, Hal saw the book-keeper transfer the irnk- stands and the boxes of pens to his over- coat pocket. “Now, what is he up to?” thought the outh. Having transferred the articles to his clothes, Hardwick put down the papers and walked to where Mr. Sumner sat, } busily engaged over his correspondence. “Shall I go tolunch now, Mr. Sumner?” he asked. The elderly broker glanced at the clock. S683" . SS Sy S SS SS SSS SS = Sess SS ~ SSS ee ______ Good for Evil, —_—-—— <4 OME years ago I happened to be in ~ the office of Governor ——, when a ,Y convict was brought in from the penitentiary to receive a pardon at the governor’s hands. The convict was a “steamboat man,” a large, powerful fel- low, with the rough manners of his class. The governor looked at the man, and seemed strangely affected, scrutinizing him long and closely. Then he signed the document which restored him to liberty, but before handing it to him, he said: “You will commit some other crime, I fear, and soon be back in the penitenti- ary. The man protested solemnly that such a thing should never bappen, The gov- ernor looked doubtful, and after a few moments said: “You will go back to the river and be a mate again, I suppose?” The man said, “Yes, that was his in- tention.” “Well, I want you to promise me one thing,” continued the governor. “I want you to pledge me your word that when you are a mate again you will never take a billet of wood and drive a poor sick boy out of his bunk to help you load your boat on a stormy night.” The man answered that he never would, but seemed surprised, and inquired why the governor requested such a pledge. “Because,” answered the governor, “some day that boy may become gov- ernor, and you may want him to pardon you for some crime. “One black, stormy night, many’ years ago. you stopped your boat on the Mis- sissippi River to take on a load of wood. There was aboy on board working his assage from New Orleans to St. Louis, but he was very sick of a fever, and was lying in his bunk. You had men enough to do the work, but you went to that boy with a stick of wood in your hand, drove him on deck with blows and curses, and kept him toiling like a slave till the load was completed. “T was that boy. Here is your pardon. aerer again be guilty of so brutal an ac 8 ‘ The prisoner took the pardon, covered his face, and went out. recrui Carna under But n he wa One of filling ing’ t] town t muste) was a | been by and for uick a edgin, at. the conflict. not star march fear, at were fat desolate were the so piteor spair, th And tl and way and the We saw after tha a sight o rops w on sa 3 yeaa Ein pane SOS ree Aa as a ning of blue, wi spair, the utter abandon of thejy tears. and waving of hands the train was away, SE Toe nee GOOD NEWS. 2503 BiLL, THE BOUND BOY. Geticteecsmsinsihe > — ILL BRADLEY was a blacksmith } boy. He was an orphan, and had pO) heen apprenticed to old Carnahan the day Lincoln was elected, and had pumped the bellows and swung the sledge every day since. Old Carnahan was astern taskmaster, and got out of his bound boy all the law would allow, We used to pass the shop every time we drove from our farm in the country, and there was nothing in the county seat, the greatest town we had ever seen, so notable asthe great shock of fiery red hair displayed by Bill Bradley. He al- ways stood at the aoor of the shop as we passed at noon-time and nodded at us with the cheeriest sort of a smile. It was a thing to remember with pride when a town boy honored us with recognition. Money was mighty scarce in our house those days. Dimes were things to treas- ure carefully; and dollars, when they came, were something spoken of with bated breath and hidden away—or paid out grudgingly. And iron was in demand. The cannons made those first years of the war called into requisition it seemed to me all the fragments of old cast iron there was in the country. Blacksmiths were paying first a cent, then two cents, and finally two and a half cents a pound; though they did make a difference whether you “took it out in trade” or de- manded cash, We boys in the country used to gather up every bit of metal that would sell, and carefully save it till we had a hunderd pounds or more, and then take it to town and convert it into the infrequent cash or the almost as acceptable and quite as costly groceries. One day when town we found commotion, “They’re ’listing soldiers,” said a nerv- ous voice in our ears, and when we turned we found Bill Bradley, wide-eyed, ex- Cited, and reckless, We were surprised, or we knew it was time for him to be at the forge, and we knew how strict was his rmployer in the matter of time. € drove to the blacksmith shop with the fragments of iron, and found Bill Bradley there before us. He was pumping the bellows, and old man Carnahan was rating him soundly for his absence. The red head was a trifle higher, the blue eyes a trifle wider, and the breath was uicker and more charged with warning. arnahan should have known. But he didn’t. He grew more enraged, till at a word of defense from the boy he lost his temper completely, and, in ‘a fit of exas- peration, struck his apprentice. we Dlow was not a severe one, and Bill could not have suffered a twinge of ain. But his pride was hurt, and that Ow ended for him, as that larger, later ow ended for four millions of others, his season of servitude. quit you,” he cried, trembling and almost weeping with excitement and Tage. “T’ll list for a soldier.” We left the iron in a pile on the shabby oor, and followed him with palpitating 1earts to the little lobby of the post- office. He was greeted with achorus of shouts, as was each new recruit, and a touch of ridicule must have mingled with the hailing, for it straightened him and stiffened him and sent him to the captain with as firm a front as ever was borne by a novice, If the men were changed by the don- 1aG transformati yas this wrought in our blacksmith bar? tte was inches taller and athoms deeper He was a man! He stood about with the recruits, his brow darkening a little Sian Carnahan approached, for he did not yet understand the privilege of a Warrior But more than any other man in uniform he was severed from civil life. He was one of this wonderful legion that wag filling the world with conment—and f}]- ing the homes with woe. Wecame to town that Saturday when the troops were mustered in, and watched them drilling, We saw our blacksmith boy, and won- dered how we ever had addressed him, he was a being so different from all he had been before. We saw the march by twos and fours and company front, the double- Geick and the charge; and we heard the edging officers swear with strange oaths atthe men they were later to push into conflict. We fancied Bil] Bradley would not stand much of that. We saw them march to the depot, and then wept, I fear, at the passionate good-bys. There were fathers and younger brothers ard desolate wives; but the saddest of all were the partings from mothers. so piteous, the hopelessness of their de. we took our plunder to the streets in strange And then after much shaking of hands and the soldiers were off for the We saw load asker 1068 Bo by On the cars after that, and always looked eagerly for and lost in a sea of strangeness—a sea, we pray, which never may grow familiar, We read of the terrible battles that Western army fought; we read of their victories, and the far too frequent de- feats. We read the lists of killed and wounded, and saw at last in the longest column the name of Private William Bradley. How far that name removed him from us! He was William now—not common Bill; not Bill the blacksmith’s bound hoy. We wondered if there was anything we could do for him, and in the next box that went from our town mother sent underclothes and stockings to the res for there was no one near us by )lood or friendship who weathered that winter in the South, and no one near Bill to remember him. ward the dawn of spring a letter came from the hospital, written in the clumsy hand of the orphan, acknowledging the receipt of the clotl es, and thanking for them with the clumsy, genuine feeling of one who seldom speaks and never forgets a favor. He was well again, he said, and would be returned for duty in the morn- ing. They looked for another hard battle. for the enemy’ was massing, and this new general that had won in the past believed in sledge-hammers and decisive meas- ures. At the end of the letter was the sentence: “Tha have mad me a corprl.” How proud he was of that—prouder of it than were the thousands who had other things to comfort them. And how near us he seemed to come as the weary months went by and the fighting began again. Once fix your mind on a man in the distarice and a man who stands front face with danger night and day and never flinches, and it is wonderful how com- pletely he will fill your sky. You imagine all manner of great things about him, dread all manner of terrible things, and end at last by loving him. So, when that other battle was fought by the general who believed in sturdy blows, and when Vicks- burg laid down her arms at the feet of a victorious army, we read again in the ter- rible lists of the killed and wounded the name of our blacksmith boy. This time, too, it was among the wounded—in the longest column; but it bore a prefix that surprised us, It was “Sergeant Bradley” now. The meager details of that time did not help us to all the information we wanted. We did not know how badly he was injured, but we sent a box of jellies and pickles and things that are not issued with the rations; and got another letter telling of the battle. And it makes no difference how many of those reports you read in the paper, this letter from a man who was in the thick of the fight was far more authentic. It was far more real. But Sergeant Bradley was sorely wounded this timé? We found more about it later when a letter from the cap- tain was printed in the county paper, de- tailing the events that had been import- ant froma subaltern’s stand-point and boasting of the prowess of his.men. In this was told the story of the charge led by that fragment of ‘a Mississippi regi- ment, those tigers of the South—a charge that was met by-the tattered remnant of the Indiana brigade. He told of the clash- ing of man against man, and the loss of the banner over and over again—that banner that went down to the army with the blessings of a thousand women when Corinth fell. And it told how, when the howling, shouting, Slashing, shrieking legions swept the Northerners back for a moment, and the guns were taken and not a thing could live in the sea of tri- umphant assault, Corporal William Brad- ley had wrapped his shattered arms about the flag and rolled with it right under the guns that were turned against his brethern, “I knew you would come back again,” said the hero, when the charge was re- pulsed and the battery was recaptured. “I knew you would come back, and I Saved the flag.” He had, and he wore a sergeant’s chev- ron for his heroism, But the hurt would seh heal. The sulphurous smoke, the earful concussions of earth and air as « 24rrowed under the guns and waited or Tescue, the sword thrusts and bayonet ricks, the white flesh torn by whistling all, and the two bon broken by the shattered she]]— ll 7g Seg tae which would not this was tribulation . u'c not pass away. Sergeant Bradley lay long in the hospital One night “in the-autunn ss we sat there under a waning moon and. listened to the shrill complaint of hi ora , } a hidden cicada, we were conscious of a figure making slow progress along the Path by the road- side. It was a man, and even in the darkness of night we could see it was not familiar. For the matter of that, the fig- ure of a man at all those days was not a common thing. Men were away ijn the South, as a general rule. But this figure grew stranger as it came nearer, Pres. ently the gate swung open, and the watch- dog gave challenge. We silenced him and rose to meet a limping, swaying figure in a sight of some face we knew, ~ teat which we knew were SwWallowed © Federal blue. He said nothing, and seemed, with that grinning insistence of And one day to- | | the uncouth man, to wish we might re- |member him. We had filled our thought with Bradley, no doubt; but this could not be he. | It was, however, and when we were sure of that we gave him a welcome and | hearty cheer, But he was very weak. It | Seemed, after the first timid acceptance |of our greeting, he began to fail, and to | take less and lessof interest in the things |about him. We thought he would like |to hear news from town. He had forgot- | ten all about the town. We hoped a little | later he would enjoy a word of cheer from | the front. There was no army .for him now. He lay there so white off the pil- low, his red hair making the whiteness |more vivid; his blue eyes looking so isteadily, yet so listlessly, at a single point in the wall; he stirred so slightly | at the passing of day and night—and then | he closed his eyes. It was long before he opened them |again. When he did he saw mother be- lside him. She was cooling the cloth she | laid on his forehead. | “I thought I wanted to come home,” he |said, and then closed his eyes again. | There was no relevancy in the remark. | No one had spoken to him, and there had |never been a thought of this or other place asa home for him. It must have been on his mind all the time. But there was youth to support him, and the blessings of twenty years to pour their vigor into his veins. His mending was slow, but it was sure. He walked about the farm at Thanksgiving, and re- turned to duty at Christmas. He wasa different man. It seemed impossible he ever could have been a bound boy. He was dignified, self-reliant. He spoke easily and without embarrassment, no matter if it was a general addressed. And he was a lieutenant when the war was done, No, he didn’t die. He lived to remem- ber twenty battles and a dozen wounds, He lived to make a modest beginning in business, and to follow it to comfortable success. He owns his home now and under his broad hat hides red hair that will never be quite gray. He stands to- day with his children at the graves of the men who were with him in the army, who were with him in danger and suffer. ing and success. He stands with those children and tells them the story and the lesson of the day. To him it was the working out of a problem, the right solution after years of wrong. To him and to me his record typi- fies the average of that darker period. Thousands and tens of thousands ‘vent in with a whim to come out with a halo. They enlisted under the spur of example, of banter, of pique. Yet they fought like Greeks, and forgave like Christians. It was the hand of the common man that left home duties and home obligations to take up the greater cause of a nation. It was the triumph of simplicity—that silent legion which boasted little before the war, and never complained when hard- ship came, It was the triumph of all that ncentics is good in the American who lives to see the realization of dreams that were not bold enough to paint their horoscope when prophecy was loudest, ———_>_+—~>__ HOW TO READ FEATURES, A pouting upper lip indicates timidity. Large, wide spreading nostrils show ample lungs and good health. pale complexion indicates a weak constitution. often heart trouble. The chief characteristics of a broad face are inflexibility and obstinacy. A money lover carries the head inclined forward and a little to one side. A broad, conspicuous forehead always indicates great mental penetration. A temple with strongly marked full- ness in the upper part belongs to a man of great native prudence, A perpendicular, a very high or a very short, knotty forehead is always bad; either always indicates lack of pescecn 6 Harsh, unyielding persons generally have high foreheads, knotty below, sunken -eyes, firmly closed mouths and broad chins. When the under part of the face, from the nose downward, is less than a third of the whole face, the indication is of stupidity. ——__+- ee —____ TRY THIS: Open a book at random, and select a word within the last ten lines, and withir. the tenth word from the end of the line. Mark the word. Now double the number of the page, and multiply the sum by five. Then add twenty. Then add thenumber of the line you have selected. Then add five. Multi- ply the sum by ten. Add the number of the word in the line. ‘From this sum subtract 250; and the remainder will indicate in the unit col- umn the number of the word, in thetenth column the number of the line, and the remaining figures the number of the page, EXCHANGE DEPARTMENT. > {IMPORTANT.—This column is freeto all our readers. We will not be responsible for transactions brought about through notices in this column. All offers must be strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any “for sale” adyertisenients, 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.”} Piero oe PHOTO EQUIPMENT.—Jolin A. Taylor, Clark- ton, Bladen Co., N. C., has a tochester Optical Co's., 434x614 view camera outfit worth $18 to ex. change for a typewriter, New Model Hall preferred, or'for best offer in watches or marksman’s goods, SKATES.—William Cash, Coleman Station, Dutchess Co., N. ¥., has ice skates, patent levers, size 11, set stencil plates, and canceled Columbian Stamps to exchange for a camera or best offer. BOYS’ PAPERS.—A. J. Kirby, Taunton, Masa,, has boys’ papers, novels, bound books, ete., fine concertina (cost $7.50,) and Eagle typewriter (new) to trade for canceled stamps of the Columbian issue. Entire envelopes and cards of all issues taken. Any denomination. STAMPS,.—E. G. Clark, P. O. Box 26, Lynn, Mass., has foreign stamps to exchange for 6c., 15¢., 30¢., 50c.. 90c., or $1.00 U. S, Stamps, also varieties of foreign stamps for varieties of U. S. postage and revenue stamps. NOVELS.—Frank Joseph, 414 W. Cumberland street. Phila., has novels to exchangefor New York Weekly or stamps. NOVEILS.—Walter O. Johnson, Key West, Fia., has. a lot novels, a Contederate ten-dollar bill, a stamp album, and other things to exchange for best offer. STAMPS.—C. N. Pickering, 620 N. Leonard ave- nue, St. Louis, Mo., has foreign stamps to ex- change for 3c., 6c., l5e., and 30c. canceled Colum. bian stamps; also’two volumes of boys papers for other papers. INDIAN RELICS.—Angus Fraser, Box 264, Moorhead, Minn., has reading matter, stamps, and Indian relics to exchange for all kinds of curios- ities. ~ . TELEGRAPHIC INSTRUMENTS—C. E. Gates, Box 285, Fort Dodge, Iowa, has one main line re- lay, 150 ohms; one giant sounder, 10 ohms, and one steel lever key, and 100 yards wire, made by J. H Bunnell, instruments néver been used, to exchange for printing press or offers. WATCH.—M. A. Malone, Burlington, Kans., has a watch, foreign stamps, cigarette ecards, and two fonts of type to exchange for a self-inking printing press, not less than 12 x 8, and type. VARIOUS ARTICLES. —E. J, Wilkinson, No.3 Willow street, Lynn, Mass., has over 200 different article to exchange for banjo, mandolin, or guitar. Send for list. BOYS’ PAPERS.—William Langmead, 926 N. Bond st,, Baltimore, Md., will give good offer for boys’ papers; also has boys’ papers and songs to exchange for stamps and Coins, or best offer. BOYS’ PAPERS.—F. L. Smith, Amsterdam, N, Y.has stamps and boys’ papers to exchange for foreign and U.S. stamps BASE-BAI.L MASK.—Webpb McDevitt, Duluth, Minn., has about four thousand American and foreign stamps, three pairs of skates. printing press and type, base-ball mask, pair of base-ball gloves, bat, forty-five programmes, fifty novels; several years of boys’ papers and magazines to exchange for a ball-bearing bicycle. TIN TAGS.—W. A Henkel, 4106 N. Grand ave., St. Lonis, Mo., will give tin tags or foreign stamps for cigarette certificates, POCKET LAMP.—C. H. Burnside, Miami, Mo., has anumber of 5c. and 10c. novels and libraries, books of magic, mInystery, boxing, swimming, 25¢e. detective novel and one 25c, book of hunters’ yarns, two coin books and a list of other interesting books, pocket lamp, one pair iron dumb-bells, 10 Ibs., and to exchange separately or for boxing-gloves, Indian clubs, or the best offer. STAMPS.—Chas. Fisher, 30 FE. Henrietta st., Baltimore, Md., has used Columbian stamps to ex- change for best offer. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Fred. L. Libby, Sanford, Maine, has boys’ papers to exchange for No.1. self- inking Excelsior printing press, type, and outfit in g00d condition. Also 100 novels for newspaper ty pe. MOTOR.—Fred. Kaltenbach, 19 Buckley st., Cleveland, Ohio, has a +4 horse-power motor and other useful articles to exchange for a good foot lathe or anything useful. No novels or stamps wanted. Would like to hear from any one having a foot lathe to exchange. NOVELS.—Jean Barnd, 708 N. Main st.. Findlay, Ohio, has 50c. 25¢. 10c. 5¢: novels to exchange for different postmarks, WATCH.— Roy Jay, Troy, Perry Co., Ind., has a watch (Waltham works) in good condition, a gold- plated watch-chain, a collection of stamps, pair of clamp skates, novels, and other articles to exchange for a Safety bicycle (wheels not under 28 inches). MAGIC LANTERN.—Wnm. J. Juengert, 241 East North st., Buffalo, N. Y., has magic lantern and slides, tobacco cards of all kinds, boys’ papers, and other reading matter to exchange for astamp album, Stamps, or best offer. LLATHE.—Frank H. Pavey, 53 West Sixth st., Anderson, Ind., hasa lathe (for foot or steam power) to exchange for best offer in electrical goods. THEATER PROGRAMMES.-G. B. Rapp, 205 Sabine st., Syracuse, N. Y., has theater programmes to exchange for others. NOVELS.—E. P. Gossett, Cerro Gordo, Tll., has novels and boys’ papers to exchange for others. MAGIC LANTERN,.—Frank A. Hammes, Keota, Ta., has a magic lantern to exchange for printing press ; also Columbian stamps to exchange for boys’ papers, - ; STAMPS —Willie Murphy, P. 0. Box 1018, Du Bois, Pa., has Columbian stamps to exchange for - best offer. NOVEILS.—Guy Risley, West Plains, Mo., has novels, telegraphing instrument, Halma board and stamps to exchange for tin tobacco tags. BOYS’ PAPERS.—E. B. Blank, 241 N. Ninth ats; Allentown, Pa., has boys’ papers to exchange. — CLUB NOTICES. Pearl Correspondence Club wants new members. Dues, 10 cts. Send 2-ct, stamp for list. Address, William A. Roberts, 934 Ridge avenue, Philadel. phia, Pa. o ; twenty-one years of age, who have a desire to im. prove their literary education. and who would favor study of grammar, rhetoric, and literature, are earrestly requested to communicate with Thomas Salle street, Chicago, U1. one lance-wood bow, reversible, and a dozen arrows All young Chicago people, between seventeen and 2s the formation of a society having for its object the | Birchler, Jr., care of Fred. §. James & Co., 174 La _ ernie iene ee) mae gen = and + i eR ae Cee ee aa a ——— — ‘ 3 a : te Heh Shee) " > sb date wane a GooDp NEWS. a EST STORIES: Fone bvaRy QUARTER” ISSUED WEEKLY, NEW YORK, MAY 6, 1893. Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE I’ REE.) One Year - - - = 85c. | 2 copies, one year- - 4.00 - -$1.25| L copy. two years - -_ 4,00 Goop News AND N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50 How 'ro SEND Monry.—By post-ollice or express money order, registered letter, bauk check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk, if sent by postal note, currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. RENEWALS.—Lhe number indicated on your address label denotes when your subscription expires. If you wish your subscription stopped at expiration you must notify us promptly, or else be held re sponsible for payment, as otherwise the paper will be sent. Recerers.— Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not cor rect you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. To CLuB Ratsers.—Upon request we will send sam- ple copies to aia you in obtaining subscribers. 65c. - $2.50 3months - - - - 4.months - 6months - - - AGENTs.—Our responsibility for remittances applies | only to such as are sent to us direct, and we will not guarantee the reliability of any subscription agency or postmaster. All letters should be addressed to STREET & SMITE'S GOOD NEWS, P.O. Box 273 4. 29 & 31 RosesStreet, N.Y. Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not have them please send direct to this office and we | will supply them by mail on receipt of price. It is asswiired that contributions wraccompanied with stamped envelopes to guarantee their return if unused, are not regarded by their writers as worth recovering. ‘Good News” cannot under- take to send back such manuscripts. Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line. nes ranean Contents of this Number. neater SERIAL STORIES. “Reuben Green’s Adventures,” by James Otis. “The Gulf Cruisers,” by St. George Rath- borne. “The Tin Box Mystery,” by Edward Strate- meyer. “Careless Jack,” by Oll Coomes. “Mat Merriman Abroad,” by Harvey Hicks. “A Boy’s Fortune,” by Horatio Alger. “Exiled to Siberia,” by Wm. Murray @ray- don. SHORT STORTES. ‘‘Butterwick’s Weakness,” by Max Adeler. “A Struggle in the Dark,” by Roger Star- buck. “The Jockey’s Last Race,” by Jack Percy. REGULAR DEPARTMENTS, “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.” Miscellaneous Jtems, etc. es Ll E U qT. eis Story J AS. K. very by ORTON, soon, BE Se If so, read ARE you a base-ball player? the advertisement on last page. —_—_—__ + ¢ » —___ We celebrate the new volume of Goop News this week by beginning a new story. Itis written by the boys’ favorite author, Mr. James Otis, in the liveliest possible style, and is bound to meet with the approval of all. $1 ——— Ir you are keeping the back numbers of _ Goop News, you should not be without a binder. The Goop News Binder advertised on last page is one of the strongest and finest made. The price, 50 cents, barely covers the cost. ———__~+_+~+>—___—_ THE display to be made by,Germany at the Chicago Exhibition will be very large. The appropriation of the German Government for fair purposes is larger than that of any other foreign country, and the list of German exhibitors now contains 5,077 names, BUTTERWICK’S WEAKNESS. _ BY MAX ADELER,. > ST EACON GRIMES called the other i) day upon Mrs. Butterwick to ask for a subscription to the mission- The following con- Ds ary society. versation took place: “Your husband is a Presbyterian, I be- lieve, Mrs. Butterwick?” said the deacon. “No,” replied Mrs. B., “he belongs to pretty near everything else on earth but church, join something decent, that'll do him some good. But he says he has no time. He belongs to about forty-six secret so- cieties of various kinds. He's the awful- est man for such things you ever saw, and all the time running after them. Monday night he goes round to the Free- mason’s, Tuesday he associates with the Odd Fellows, Wednesday is his Red Man night, Thursday is his tempeance lodge, Friday he gives up to the Patriotic Sons of America, Saturday he goes fooling along with the Knights of Pythias, and all day Sunday he is visiting the sick and the widows and orphans of the dead mem- bers. If there were sixty days in the week I believe Butterwick would have some lodge to attend every night. “Mr. Grimes, that man actually says he knows ninety-three grips and over two hundred pass-words. And he’s awful mysterious about them. ‘The other day I saw him slinging his arms about kinder queer at breakfast, and presently he stops, and says: ‘Thunder, I forgot where I was! Mary Jane, you saw that? Itwasa grand hailing sign! Swear you'll never reveal it!’ And you know he’ll wake up at nights and ask me if I heard him talk- ing in his sleep, and if I say ‘yes,’ he’ll look scared to death, and get out his pis- tol, and say he’ll blow my brains out if I ever repeat one of those pass-words. And he is all the time practicing grips on me, but he won’t even tell me what any of them are, although he knows I’m just dying with curiosity. He says he knows more secrets than any other man in the whole State, and he says that if he was to tell one of them those Knights and Patriotic Sons, and the rest of them would put him into a vault and seal him up alive, or tear him to pieces with red- hot pincers. Says they’d hustle him into eternity quicker’n a wink. Worries me nearly to death. “He’s so careless, too. I see him giving that grand hailing sign to the slopman yesterday, and the slopman asked Bridget if Mr. Butterwick had St. Vitus’ dance very bad; and I know when he tried one of those grips on the man that came to tune the piano the man said if he squeezed his hand that hard again he’d give Mr. Butterwick a black eye. “And asfor processions! Well, it seems to me that when Butterwick ain’t at a lodge he is marching in a procession. Al- ways some funeral or celebration or some- thing, and he turns out and goes skip- ping around through the streets dressed in a cocked-hat and a sword, and looking fierce enough to frighten anybody out of their wits. And he told me that some- times he gets all these grips mixed, and he’ll givea Mason the Odd Fellows’ grip, ora Red. Man the Knights of Pythias’ grip, and he’ll come home white as a sheet and tell me not to be surprised if he is kidnaped and made away with be- fore morning. “You just ought to see the letters that come here directed to him. ‘E. Butter- wiok,’ and then a whole alphabet of let- ters strung after his name: He’s a Right Worshipful Grand Master, and a Sir Knight, and an Eminent Passed Grand Sachem, and a High and Mighty Hepta- soph, and a Chief Magnificent Reverend Druidied Priest, and a whole lot more such things as that, enough to take your breath away; and with all he’sno more stuck up than youare. Just as humble asalamb. And he says he can reel out more stuff that they say at their cere- monies than ’d fill a small library; and he has about sixty sheepskin aprons, with all kinds of pictures on them, that he wears when he’s on duty. So he has no time to tend to church, and no money for the heathen. He spent his Jast dollar Saturday paying up his back dues to the Knights of Pythias, and he says if he can't settle with the Druids by Thursday they'll cut him off and chuck him out. don't know what happens to a man when the Druids shut down on him, but But- terwick hints that it’s not much better than sudden death. Perhaps you’re a Druid? No? Well, you call and see But- terwick and he’ll explain it to you; and meantime those Beather’}i have toshuffle along the hest way they can. Maybe if you was to write to them how Butter- wick is fixed they might consider thav sufficient. Good-morning. Remember me to Mrs. Grimes.” Then the deacon withdrew and went around to visit a less mysterious family, That’s what I say to him, that | while he is joining so much he’d better | RT TALKS ok BOYS BY ARTHUR SEWALL, ibe aee 0. G.N., Junction City, Kas,, writes: “I am nearly 19 years old. I amin the high school, junior class. Do you think it isto my adydn- tage to leave school and enter an art school? Which I intend to do. What do you think of the portrait business? I mean enlarging. in Indiaink. Ihave an air brush that cost me $50, and [ can use my Machine very good now. Do you think this business is very successful ? Do. you think it is proper for me to quit school, or go through; it will take me one more year; or go to an art school? Plewse explain to me what you think about India ink portrait business.” You cannot learn too much, and would therefore advise you to remain at school as long as possible. Do not imagine that you are too old to attend school, There are men over fifty years of age who are still studying, not only at home, but in colleges, Of course, it requires an in- come, or wealthy parents, to enable a man to attend college after he becomes of age. It might be advisable to learn the por- trait enlarging business if you have noth- ing better, but you must not expect to realize very much money from the busi- ness, as the demand for this process work is not very great. We favor drawing in all its branches, and if you have a liking for free-hand or mechanical art, learn it if you have an opportunity. ©. C., Harrison, N. J., writes: “I have about $100 which I would like to invest in a paper and Stationary store, or some other good business. Can you inform me of any place where it would be likely to pay, or, can you tell me of a better plant” You cannot do very much with a hun- dred dollars, and therefore we can only advise you to invest the money in some savings-bank, and allow it to accumu- late with what you may add to it until you have one thousand dollars. It is not safe to invest so sma]l an amount in any- thing unless you are thoroughly familiar with it, and certainly, if you were, you would not write to us for information, The old story of the two partners who went into business with a capital of money furnished by one, and the experi- ence by the other, ending with the one who furnished the money gaining the ex- perience, and his partner the cash, is pertinent on this occasion, When you have determined to start in business do not immediately invest your capital in something that strikes you as good, but rather go into some business, gain experi- ence, and then make the investment. In this way you acquire experience and save your money. The paper and stationary business strikes us as a good one. There 1s a con- stant demand for books, periodicals, let- ter-paper, etc,, and the first consideration is a location, If you intend starting at home, choose a store near the post-office, or on the main thoroughfare—somewhere where people are continually passing, and likely to be attracted by your ator. In Newport, for instance, there is a large stationary store, not far from the post-office, on the leading business street, and people congregate there on the after- noons waiting for the New York papers. There is a large display of magazines and books, from which one naturally selects two or three to read and carries them off, Thus the dealer has a customer for a two or three cent paper and sells him a fifty cents’ worth. His profiton the paper may be one cent, while on the magazines it is, perhaps, fifteen cents. Hence you see the advantage of securing a location where people are passing continually. As we indicated at the outset, do not attempt to start in for yourself until you have had experience. You cannot very well supply your customers with goods unless you know about them, Of course, nearly everything is ordered through the American News Company, but, even so, an inexperienced person will not know what papers are returnable unless he has had some previous knowl- edge of the business. Besides books and magazines, you will have to handle a certain number of fancy articles. Christmas cards, writing-paper, ete. You must learn where to buy such things. Finally, don’t let competition worry you. A book-store is like a drug-store. If there is any place where there is trade, start there. Better start in the center of business, even if your strongest competi- tor is next door, than at a distance, where no business exists. In New York city a good store established on Madison square, no matter of what character, is bound to succeed just because there is traffic there. Two of the largest drug- stores are right in that vicinity, and both succeed because the business is right there. The great success of Del- monico’s has been because his place is in the center of where people are. M. F. O’D., South Minneapolis, Minn., writes : “JT am 16 years old, and I have a fairly good education. I am working for a newsdealer, but the pay is so small that I have alll can do to clothe myself with it; and then I do not like the business either. Ihave a great desire to be- come an engineer on a railroad, but do not know what I can do to get such a place, as I am so young. Now, would you please let me know the best way I can learn how to be one, and whatsalaries are generally paid? or perhaps yofi could give me some advice as to what I should do instead of becoming an engineer.” We think that your plan of becoming an engineer is worthy of consideration, and would, by all means, advise you to look into the matter very carefully. First, at your age, if you are making enough to pay for your clothes, you are doing very well, and under the circum- stances bear in mind what we have so repeatedly said: Do not give up a sure thing for an uncertainty. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” As to salary, a locomotive engineer re- ceives from $15 to $25 a week, which sal- ary, excellent as it is, amounts to but $1,200 a year, so that you see at best your income will only be that maximum amount, while for some time you cannot expect more than $720 a year. For a me- chanic, the pay is good, but can you not do better than that? At St. Paul there are the general offices of two great trunk lines running to the West, and from the proper officials con- nected with the traffic department you can readily ascertain what will be re- quired of you in order to become a rail- road engineer. In all probabilities you will be expected to go to work in the shops of the company, where you will be taught or given an opportunity to pick up as best you can what an engineer should know. This experience will require one or two years. As you progress-you will be advanced, and in time may become a fireman or an engineer. This occupation you will hold for atime, or until you are competent, when, if a vacancy occurs, you will be made an engineer. All this takes time, and it may be three or four years before you will be able to achieve your ambi- tion. You can move much faster if there are any technical schools in either St. Paul or Minneapolis where you can obtain the kind of knowledge you require. If it is possible for you to attend one where en- gineering is taught, you will beable to gain the maximum amount of knowledge with the minimum amount of time. Then there is your magnificent Uni- versity of Minnesota, right near Minne- apolis, with its many courses and vari- ous departments of learning. It may be that you will be able to acquire a knowl- edge of engineering there. The point is worth considering, and you will do well to send for a prospectus, We have no desire to discourage you, but, as we so often find, young men seem to think that anything they desire to take up can be had without trouble, whereas, in reality, no trade is easily learned, and indeed success is only the result of long and continuous painstaking effort. You want to be very sure that you have definitely decided .to become a locomotive engineer before you start, and oe once started, keep at it until the end, It is just as well to get some idea of what your work will be when you have become an engineer, and you had better purchase M. N. Forney’s “A Catechism of the Locomotive.” Read it through three or four times, and it will do you good. Besides knowledge, one wants a good clear head to runan engine. You must be quick to decide whatto doin anemergency. If you can save your train by crossing a burning bridge, better do so than to lose your life by trying to stop the train. Then there is the special knowledge connected with yourroad that yon must learn. The curves, tunnels, ridges, etc., must all be fixed in your mind before you can command the high- est salary. If the strain of the responsibility is not too great for you to carry, then in time you will come to love your work, and handle your engine as fondly as a horse- man guides afavorite steed. You wil] be able to enjoy the scenery of the country through which you pass, You will note the changes in nature as theseasons pass, one into the other, until with the accu- mulated knowledgeof many years experi- ence, you find yourself looked up to as one who is worthy of any trust that may he given to him. Read in this connection Charles Bernard’s Short Talks on this subject contained in the Goop Nrws for September 25, 1890. ———+-t-e—__— Tuk Chinese claim the invention of the mariner’s compass, and ascribe it to their Emperor Hong Ti, who, they say, was the grandson of Noah. } be. ow: only fg stem ae a ; ng ; thec _ to t) John S = nr = GOOD NEWS. 2505 (This Story Will Not be Pablished in Book-Form,] [HE GULF CRUISERS; 7 OR Voyage ofr the Lost Canoe.) Bv ST. CEORCE RATHBORNE. CHAPTER IV. ADRIFT ON THE STORMY GULF. | HE whole thing had taken place in a brief space of time. Aleck Mayne} J me), and his friend Jack were not think- } s ing of danger. They could not be| kept in the cabin while the storm raged, | ad and as Joe hung to the mast forward, they } crouched amidships, sheltered in a de- gree.by the canoe that was lashed to the roof of the cabin. This proved to be a | very unfortunate thing for the two lads. | hen that giant wave swept over the! Sharpie with such over- : Whelming force, the lash- Ings of the cance snapped as though they were mere F- |» threads. Jack realized what pes was about tc happen, but [= there was no chance tol either warn his companion or do aught to save himself. In such times of danger Spasmodic action called in- Stinct takes the place of reason. With ‘such an in- voluntary movement both —= boys tightened their clutch /—— - upon the only object they ee _. could clasp in that whirl of . a > et “waters, i This was the cedar canoe, fogether they found them- selves struggling in the gulf. arkness surrounded them, and each on the instant Seemed to fear for the other’s safety. z “Aleck!” shouted Jack, in = } 8M agony of suspense, his -=- | brave voice sounding even -— above the roar of the gale. =e 3 “Here, Jack,” came a re- E—= _Sponse close by, and the Bar- -— negat Bay lad realized that F-— 1s comrade was also cling- F : ing to the canoe, though it f= > Seemed almost a mystery |== === how both had held on, with only a rope passing from / Stem to stern as a means of | © assistance, thesaid rope hay- 4 ing been used in slinging oz ape sean ae wharf on ec Joba. of the Honest 9 re you <9” | called Jack, Reh Aleck" Not much to speak of, an you see the light on the Sharpie?” asked the other “I think I hada glimpse eee it, but these waves are A ear pe it’s hard to say.” _ , ‘Thope she didn’t foun- er, Jack.” ; No danger of that, I Teckon, Now we must _ think of ourselves.” _ , Their predicament was , indeed serious, for they - Were at the mercy of the _ Wild waves, the sport of _ the storm, with only the _ Canoe between themselves § 4nd a watery grave. ) Several things, however, ! Were in theirfavor. The Storm coming from the _ horth, with a tendency toward a point or 13 two west of that, would gradually sweep them in the direction of the shore, which Was certainly better than being carried out upon the great open sea, The inky darkness appalled them more than anything else. Could daylight have Come upon the scene they would have greeted it with the greatest of joy, for Seeing a danger is more than half the battle, Time passes under such circumstances without any reckoning, but it seemed ours that the boys clung to their sup- ort, changing hands now and then to re- _ lieve the strain upon their muscles. - | broke, It rested his (“THE GULF CRUISERS” was commenced last week, } Jack managed to scramble astride the boat, but he had much trouble in main- taining his seat when one of those rollers aris somewhat, however, and acting on his advise Aleck | mounted also, near the stern. That was certainly the maddest boat ride those two young fellows ever took, They managed to maintain their seats for | atime, and then once more slipped back into the water, seeking a change. How the minutes dragged on. The storm had not spent its fury, but seemed to grow even worse. The wind lifted the spray from the foam-capped waves, and aoe ae oe re P ea res m a ae ; lap HUA TT /7; iy). iL WY Vi | | time to time with not a detail lacking. | More dreary waiting ensued. Although he waves were not so high as before, shey broke over the boys almost constant- y. Every time they mounted a billow, | Aleck strained his eyes looking in the} | direction which he believed to he the east, searching for the first gleam of com- ing dawn. “Look, Jack, and tell me whether I am | deceiving myself—to the left yonder— | does the sky seem lighter than in other | places?” he finally shouted. His companion took an observation, and declared that Aleck was surely right, “Then dawn is coming,” cried the other, | eagerly. “Yes, and [ have made another discov- ery. The last time we were down in the} |trough of the sea I am sure my feet touched bottom.” “We are near shore!” excitedly. “Not as near as you think, probably, or |}else we would hear the waves dashing on the sand. You know the gulf is very ho ob et |shallow for miles along——” a wave (breaking over them interrupted their! | conversation, filling Jack’s mouth with salt water. Aleck took advantage of the opportun- ity to feel for the bottom, and was thrilled when his feet came in contact with solid sand. After being buffeted about for hours | at the mercy of the| lhe kept up ored to urge the canoe to larboard, and it was not five minutes before both of them had a plain view of a bunch of palmetto trees, not more than a quarter of a mile |; away. This excited new hopes, and as the water grew more shallow there were times when they could walk a few steps before the next wave came washing over them. “Shall we make a run for it, Jack?” “No, no, hang to the boat. It may he our salvation yet,” returned the Jersey | lad. More than one royal battle did they have with some monster billow that tripped them up and endeavored to sweep them out to sea, but they had not be- come too exhausted for resistance, and | stubbornly contested the ground gained. “Courage, Aleck,” gasped Jack, as he emerged from a waste of water that had swept them on, and once more gained a footing, “every yard counts. Hold onto the boat for your life.” The other did not reply, for his mouth and eyes and ears were full of water, but with Jack as the latter plunged for the shore, Several more huge billows tumbled them about, but their determination car- ried the day, and with a last final spurt they dragged the cedar canoe upon the sand, and then both sank beside it utterly exhausted. The mad waves came leaping and tumbling far up the strand, to retreat in confu- sion, cheated of their in- tended prey, for the young voyagers were safe ashore. CHAPTER V. THE VOYAGE BEGUN. “fp ACK was the first to RNf recover, for his ath- /\ letic frame had been ©— able to withstand the battering and buffeting of the waves much better than the more slender body of leck, “Come, comrade, help me to get the boat away from those hungry waves. Then we'll try and build a fire among the trees yonder to dry our clothes and warm our blood.” Aleck was shaking after his long exposure to the fury of the storm, and ‘his teeth rattled so that he could hard- ly speak; but he realized that his friend’s advice was good, and staggering to his fcvet proceeded to lend his assistance, Between them the canoe was “ragged far beyond the reach of the inrolling waves, that broke with a sound like thunder on the beach. Jack took command at once. “See if you can find ma- terial for a fire ina sheltered spot,” he said. “And you, Jack?” “Tintend to break the little brass padlock that holds the last section of the hatch, We must» see what lies in- side the boat. My match- box is supposed to be ordi- narily waterproof, but I am sure it could never stand the soaking we have experi- enced, and come out dry. I hope to discover matches in the stores.” “Success to you,” said Aleck, marching off to fol- low out the instructions CLUBBING HIS GUN, ALECK STEPPED UP TO KNOCK THE IMPUDENT ANIMAL OVER, it filled the air inthe shape of flying seud. All the while there was a roaring sound as of atrain of cars rushing over an interminable trestle. It must have been long after midnight, and still no change had taken place that was of any consequence. Could they hold out until the gray dawn came? What would it show them? They exchanged a few words at inter- vals, but the effort was so severe, and the chances of receiving a mouthful of salt water so probable, that they soon disecov- ered it to be wiser and more discreet to maintain silence so as to husband their strength. Aleck became worried because they did _ They were opposite each other, and Could clasp hands when they wished. The Canoe floated fairly .well, although the urgo inside the cedar shel] had evidently Shifted to port, for the boat listed that ay. Es? Bers little while a boiling wave would come hissing along, breaking over their heads and burying the boys for a dozen econds; but the wonderful buoyancy of le canoe assisted them to reach the sur- e again when such a thing occurred, . | not reach the shore, and communicated | his fears to Jack, who immediately tried | to ascertain the direction of the wind. He | finally volunteered the cheering informa- tion that they were probably slowly but | surely driving in toward the shore, What they experienced on that night when adrift on the gulf, neither of them is apt to forget while life lasts. Such scenes of danger impress themselves upon the meimory indelibly, to come up from | waves, it was indeed a most welcome sensation. How slowly the light in the east spread over the sky. It was like anage to the boys; but gradually the intense darkness gave way to daybreak, and after a while Aleck could distinguish the form of his comrade across the boat, or rather see the top of his head. As the light increased they began to look about them. Such a wild scene was enough to strike alarm to the heart of the bravest. On all sides was a boiling, tumultuous sea of water, while the air was filled with spray. Eagerly the boys looked to leeward, and strained their eyes to discover signs of land. That they were being drifted ashore gradually they had not the least doubt, for at times it was possible to touch bot- tom while their heads’were above the water, “T had a glimpse of trees just then, when there came an opening in the mist,” cried Aleck, suddenly. “Then let us work toward the land. We can’t do much, but every little helps.’ ‘Acting upon Jack's advice they endeay- given him. Jack had quite a task, but by the exercise of some in- genuity he managed to open the small padlock. In another minute a section of the light wooden hatch was removed, and he could see into the interior of the canoe. Very little water, indeed, had found its way into the boat, and Jack rejoiced to discover such a fact. The first thing he drew out was amess chest, in which were eight or ten square cans with screw tops, containing such every-day necessi- ties as sugar, tea, ground coffee, oatmeal, flour, ship biscuit, rice, and hominy. Packages there were, quite a number of them, wrapped in waterproof cloth that protected them from _ possible injury. Jack rejoiced exceedingly as he took these things in. He realized that the lost canoe was likely to prove a veritable god- send to them. There was no time just then to investi- gate fully. What he wanted was matches, but when he had given each ce what he sought, his spirits ell, : Then his eyes alighted upon the small hatch forward, and in another minute he was busily engaged opening this, The package a hasty examination and failed — Sse NNUIIEDT ee Sane NE or ESO ne ONDE ne ENDS, CO IT OO a ueeEEneoeaa : Oe 5 a ae See te ae ee \. ee ‘ waits 2506 cavity was small, but it contained a number of things, and among others he found a tin box holding that which he sought—a Mason’s fruit jar filled with parlor matches, and free from dampness on account of the rubber and screw top. Covering up both hatch and cockpit, he hurried in among the palmetto trees to find that hiscomrade had already torn the dry heart from an old log, and the fire was ready for starting. In three minutes a cheerful blaze arose in the clump of trees, while Jack was busily engaged chopping wood with a camp hatchet he had fond in the canoe. By degrees their garments dried, and they felt much better. Then, as was quite natural, their appetites gave warning that it was time for breakfast. Together they carried the cargo of the canoe into camp, and then the cedar craft itself was laid near the fire. There was a coinplete canoeist’s cook- ing outfit on board, and it did not take these independent voyagers long to have a pot of coffee on the fire, flanked by a frying-pan in which breakfast bacon siz- zled merrily. Things certainly looked more cheerful now, and the castaways made a hearty meal. They believed the contents of the canoe belonged to them as salvage, for had it not been for their labor the frail craft must have continued to remain the sport of the waves, until some un- lucky blow pounded a hole in her side on an oyster reef, After breakfast they covered everything up with the waterproofs, and feeling a great drowsiness stealing over them, lay down near thefire for a nap, which lasted until noon. Rain falling aroused them. Remember- ing that he had seen some canvas in the boat Jack fished it out, and discovered that it was acanoe tent. Stepping the two short masts, the tent was speedily laced in position. Then the two rubber lankets that had been wrapped about the packages were utilized as a sort of fly between the canoe and the fire under which everything was safe from the rain, which came from the north west. A light lunch was eaten, and then they made a careful inventory of the contents of the lost canoe. There was a double paddle, jointed in the middle, rudder and sails. Besides, there were two blankets, and a rubber pillow that could be blown up when needed. Quite a quantity of canned goods formed the bulk of the cargo. There were several gallon cans filled with water, - which the boys thought a singular fact until they learned later on that the canoe- ist who had intended cruising in the region of the keys was a sick man, and in the habit of drinking water from some mineral springs in Virginia, that were guaranteed to effectually keep his mal- ady quiet. At any rate, it proved a great boon to the two castaways, for they would have been at a loss where to get fresh water just then. The day slipped away, and as the rain ceased late in the afternoon Jack slipped on thesuit of oilskins and went after wood—a supply of which was needed for the night. It was easily procured near by; and all through the watches of the night the fire continued to blaze among the palmettoes, The Norther still continued when an- other day dawned, although tke clouds had passed away and the sun came out. It could be plainly seen, however, that the storm was on the decrease, and must wind up on or before another day; so the young voyagers made the best of it. Aleck was delighted at discovering a double-barrel shot-gun in a waterproof case. True, the weapon was somewhat rusty, but a little oil made it serviceable. Shells had also been found in plenty, as it was evident that the canoeist had omit- ted little or nothing, long experience tell- ing him what to take upon a cruise along the Florida coast. Leaving Jack in camp looking over an odd assortment of strong fishing tackle that had evidently seen service, Aleck wandered along the shore looking for game, and finally entered the hamak. His friend heard a number of shots, and began to hope they were to have game for supper, so he made ready the frying- pan. Sure enough he did not count with- out his host, for when Aleck appeared he carried several squirrels. These little animals were soon divested of their furry jackets, and after being cut up were placed in a kettle with some watery The stew, when finally done, was pro- nounced capital by both boys. Again night had crept over the scene, but now they had {the bright stars to look down upon them, while a young moon hung trembling over the watery waste in the west. — During the night quite a change took place in the atmosphere, and with the rising of another sun the breeze was from the east. - -This suited them beautifully. The gulf his gun he did not shoot. CHOOD NEWS. looked calm for quite a distance out, and yet the land breeze was strong enough to waft them along at a good pace. Their plans had been arranged during the two days in camp, and once formed, nothing of an_ ordinary nature could change them. They might have turned back and reached Punta Rassa at the mouth of the ’Hatchee River, but this crab-like progress did not suit their go- ahead natures. Hence they decided to move southward in the canoe. Should they come upon the Honest John, well and good, the interrupted voyage could be resumed; but should they fail to see aught of the sharpie, they meant to make the most of their opportunity. Even in such a frai] craft, by the exercise of due caution, it was possible to sail among the Florida keys, and these two young fellows were just the ones to attempt the feat of reaching the light-house on Sombrero Key. As soon as a hasty breakfast had been dispatched, the Wanderer was launched upon a tiny bay near by where the water was deep enough to float her. Then she was loaded carefully. All was soon ready, and the voyagers stepped aboard. The two sails were in place, but the clump of palmettoes shielded them from the breeze, so it became necessary for them to take the paddle. How easily the trim boat glided along. They were enchanted with her buoyancy, and had already conceived quite a liking for the canoe. Once out where the breeze caught her sails, the Wanderer began to glide through the water of the gulf like a thing of life.. Paddles were stowed, the boat’s stem pointed S.E. by E., and away they went heading for Cape Romano. CHAPTER VI. “READY, ALECK!” fF“ URELY the young vovagers were <<. wise in accepting the favors which a kind Providence poured into their lap. The canoe had been given to them for use, and once they decided to go forward, they never dreamed of turn- ing back. At any rate, they made a favorable start, for the wind, what there was of it, remained in the east during the whole day. They could have made nin teN even had it been different, and a heavy sea rolling in, for they were now once more in the region of outlying keys, between which and the shore a channel existed that was nearly always calm, and upon which canoes, drawing so little, could sail under any circumstances, So they left behind them Gordon’s Pass, Rookery Bay, Little Marco Island, and entered Caxambas Pass at about three in the afternoon, with the intention of using the inner course as a means of reaching Gallivan’s Bay, and thus avoid rounding the cape. Paddling and sailing, as the chance came, they made gooi progress, and a little betore sundown found themselves once more looking out on the gulf, A hasty search was made for a suitable camping-ground, as if would have been a serious matter to have remained in the canoe over night. One must have sat on deck while the other slept. Luckily they found what they sought on an adjacent key, and although the mos- quitoes were very numerous, this did not alarm them, since among other things in the cargo of the boat they had discovered a netting with a very small mesh which Aleck called bobinet. So a fire was kindled, and a smudge set going, the smoke from the latter giving them some relief from their insect pests. Both were well satisfied with the pro- gress already made, If they conld take it as an indication of their whole voyage they had little reason for worry. Supper was cooked and dispatched, and then they arranged their sleeping quar- ters. In lieu of a regular shore tent they utilized the two rubber blankets, using the canoe tent under them, as it was waterproof, and there was not much moist- ure in the sand of the key. The night passed away rather comfort- ably, thanks tothe mosquito bar. Out- side, armies of the pests buzzed angrily as they endeavored to find an opening so AG that they might have anip at the slum- berers; but this music put the boys to sleep. A number of raccoons wandered into the camp about midnight, and rattled the tin pans, looking for something to eat. Aleck heard the racket, and, being only half-awake, suspected that it was made by more dangerous visitors. He grasped the gun, which he had laid at his side, and crept out from under the mosquito bar, ready to do battle. The fire revealed the true state of affairs to him, however, and although he aimed In the first place a shot was likely to riddle some of their tins, and again it would needlessly alarm Jack, whom he had left in a sound slumber, So he simply walked across the camp. At sight of him the coons scampered away, all but one large fellow. ‘This ras- cal snarled and showed his teeth ina way that challenged Aleck to battle, so clubbing his gun he stepped up to knock the impudent animal over, when the lat- ter, deeming discretion the better part of valor, slunk away. Aleck contented himself with hanging such tins as contained food from the branches of the large mangrove bush be- side which they had camped, after which he retired. Again during the night he heard aclat- tering of the tins, and knew the visitors must have returned, but feeling that no damage couid be done to their intended breakfast he simply rolled over to sleep again. As luck would have it, Jack raised his head just then and listened. “What in the world is that?” he mut- tered. Then Aleck could feel his companion groping for the gun. Not findingit, Jack gently shook him. “Where’s the double-barrel, Aleck?” he whispered. “What do you want it. for?” “a Something at our tins, Hear ’em rat- e “Coons, my boy.” ; oe they’1] make away with our break- ast.” “Oh, no! I’ve been up before, and hung it out of their reach. Go to sleep, Jack,” returned the other voyager, drowsily. So the night passed. The following day opened bright and fair, so that they determined to put out upon the gulf from the passage at the mouth of which they were encamped. This would take them several miles from land, but the water is so shoal along the gulf coast that one does not feel he is in danger so long as he can touch bottom easily with his paddle. The breeze was still in the east, which pleased our young cruisers immensely. As soon as breakfast had been eaten they set out, and quickly found themselves gliding over the surface of the gulf, Nature looked joyous on this morning. The sun shone brightly, the breezed im- led the surface of the bay, birds could be seen in great numbers about them,’ while in shallow places mullet leaped out of the water constantly. Jack was feelingso good that he trolled several ditties as they glided along, and even Aleck could not but be influenced by the bright scene. There were many things about the voyage that pleased him, though above all he considered the good progress they made. The breeze was at notime during the morning what could be called strong, al- though it wafted them quite a number of miles on their way. Toward noon it died out completely, leaving a dead calm. It had grown exceedingly warm, too, and several times the boys wished the breeze would once more arise to make the atmosphere comfortable. There they were upon a sea of liquid silver, several miles fromland. Ahead of them about thesame distance was Choko- liska Key, far out from the main shore. it was for this they were aiming, intend- ing to camp on its hospitable strand. Taking advantage of the enforced idle- ness, the boys ate their lunch. ana then looked longingly toward the S.E., from which quarter it was expected the wind would come. Not a ripple could be seen on thesmooth surface, which moved with the long, easy undulations natural to a great body of water even during a dead calm. “Shall we make a spruce breeze?” asked Jack, touching the paddle, Aleck shook his head. “We only have about three miles to go before reaching the key. The wind will certainly rise by two or half-past, and we'll get there just as soon. This heat makes me too lazy.” With that he settled down for a nap, and Jack, being a smoker, filled a pipe with some tobacco, of which he had found a lot among the stores, and proceeded to enjoy himself after his own way. Thus the minutes crept on. There was no change in the state of things. . Jack had also fallen into a dreamy state, though he did not allow his pipe to goout. A shadow fell across the boat that could only be made by the passage of asmall cloud athwart the bright dise of the sun. This signified wind. Mechanically Jack raised his eyes in a lazy manner to glance upward. What he saw gave him an electric thrill—all his inertia vanished as quick as a flash. “My stars, what’s this?” he exclaimed. Aleck opened his eyes, and sat up. His first glance was shoreward, and he saw only the deadcalm water and the distant line of palmetto trees. “What’s wrong, Jack, old fellow?” Then, noticing which way his comrade was looking, he, too, turned his eyes westward. . What he saw sent ashudder through him, and well it might, Half-way up * from the horizon the sky was inky black, and the long line of clouds seemed to be advancing rapidly. The young voyagers looked at each other in amazement and alarm. While they loitered upon that glassy sea the enemy had crept unseen behind them, and now they were threatened with sud- den destruction. To be caught several miles from shore in a little canoe meant almost certain death, with such a black squall sweep- ing down upon them. Jack was the first to recover, and he immediately grasped a paddle. “We must not lose a second, comrade,” he cried. “Which way shall we go?” “The shore is farther away than the key ahead. Besides in the storm we might be swamped going ashore while behind the key we can find refuge.” ‘ “Then on for Chokoliska!” gasped Aleck, for they were already putting in good work. The air was muggy and warm; any old cruiser would have known thatsuch a change from the bracing morning por- tended a storm. How they sped on under those energetic strokes. The water fairly boiled as the stem of the cedar boat parted it, and the paddles dipped deep below the surface. Had they been engaged ina race forthe A.C.A, trophy cup, they could not have givena better exhibition of brawn and endurance. Why not, when the stake for which they contended was in all probability their lives, for the race with the sweep- ing storm meant this. Half of the distance was covered, buf Jack used his judgment, and he saw that they could not hope to make theshelter of ae key before ‘being enveloped in the ale. “ Aleck, it’s no use. Wecan’t do it.” “But what shall other, in blank dismay. “Hand out that canvas apron that we made a second manhole in. Let’s gét ready for the squall, and if necessary we can go overboard.” The wooden sections of hatch had been left on the beach where they first landed, as they would have been in the way; but the bit of canvas was soon fastened in position, when once more they picked up the paddles. A few minutes passed, and the key of refuge was not half a mile ahead when Jack, wha had been looking over his right shoulder, exclaimed: “Here she comes, Aleck! At the last we’ll head her into the storm until the first rush is over,” Turning his eyes toward the west, Aleck saw a sight he would never forget. The clouds had apparently dropped to the water, for the inky pall covered everything. In advance was along line of white foam, curling and rushing on like a race-horse, while to their ears was borne a roaring noise peculiarly terrifying. “Ready, Aleck! It’s life or death with us now,” cried Jack. (T0 BE CONTINUED.) —___ —-9-9-»—_____—~- HOW WOLVES HUNT, One strongiy marked characteristic common to dogs and wolves is their skill in trailing and running down game in couples or packs. Such a wolf hunt in India is described by an English traveler, who, while with his telescope watching a herd of antelope feeding in a large field, observed six wolves evidently concerting how best to secure their breakfast. Hay- ing decided on their plan of campaign they separated, leaving one stationary, Four crept stealthily round the outer edge of the field, and one lay in ambush at each corner, while the sixth crept through a furrow inthe middle of the field, and there lay down unobserved. When all were thus_ posted, the first wolf suddenly showed himself, and, charging the antelopes, drove thenr right across the great field, where they were headed by another wolf, who chased them in a fresh direction, while the first hun- ter lay down to rest. No sooner had the frightened herd reached the farther end of the plain, than up sprang a fresh wolf, who again turned them and took up the pursuit, leaving his panting accomplice to take breath, preparatory to another chase, Thus the luckless, terrified antelopes were driven from corner to corner of the great plain, till, stupefied and exhausted, they crowded together, galloping lessening circles round the center of the field, where the sixth wolf lay hidden, evidently waiting until they should be so effectually tired out.as to fall an easy prey. : His calculations were, however, at fault, not having reckoned on the human _ presence, and justas he was preparing for the final spring, a well-directed shot proved fatal to the nearest wolf, where- upon all the confederates took the hint and scurried off with all possible speed. q ERH. SY glea | Mr. we do?” asked the - _ 4 From t] in ever-* THE | (“Mat ME + News Agents T look Welk” cause we k “TI know said, husk: You’were ; was perhaj “Nay, I ter for him A wilds Mat spra att out | anything, the Saas After th Whal that he cor > a trouble, a@ very im} *% ulated hi ‘4 fortune w jy turn this 1 As Fire of the ge next thing should be This qu = cussed ove and Mat fellow, th if result wot ing that h Some ye duced int “Making ' crimes of } the efforts because t¢ §, What wer ions of ¢ would hea his mind against, b result wo i his (the n The day hut, but in an ap ployed in Watson h of seeing Sees a Zot out of ‘There ¢ pPouth Afr he imam icious ge a ley en ~Fwith the Obtained latitude, Was of in 5 “We fortune _V result would be of NE We. OR News Agents.) per CHAPTER XIII. THE SNAKE-CHARMER. ERHAPS,” began Mat, and then he , Paused, as he caught the anxious gleam in Mr. Whalley’s eye—a sr 100k of positive anticipation. -* Well!” asked the cab gt ott up, be- cause we know you won't be far out,” qi know your thoughts,” Mr. Whalley Sabie huskily; “and they are mine also. ou'were going to say that the wild man Was perhaps my father.” , X0u are right, sir; forgive me.” Nay, | almost believe it myself. Bet- ter for him tobe dead: but yet—— Hark!” wild scream was heard without. Mat sprang to the door of the hut and peered out; but, being unable to discover anything, he concluded that the cry was the farewell shout of the wild man. ag ter this our friends lay down, but r. Whalley’s mind was so exercised eat he could not sleep, though his com- » /2n10Ns did not at all suffer in this re- . Speer Still, he regarded it not in the light of j 2 trouble, but rather as the first step in & very important direction, and congrat- ulated himself upon the wonderful good which h 3 i ‘\turn this way, ad caused his steps to ar As Firebrand had said, the discovery jof the Settlement of Undulini was the l re thing to be aimed at, and an effort as ae be made to utilize the wild man. is question was exhaustively dis- fF cussed over their breakfast next morning, 4 pe Mat determined to mesmerize the _§ fellow, though he was not sure that the of any benefit, consider- insane, ing that _he was a Some years a 0, mesmerism was intro- uced into prisons for the purposes of “making criminals confess to certain crimes of which they were suspected: but the efforts failed to be productive of good because the criminal would merely say ions of the case, Thus, the mesmerist his mind ‘against, by neue ee either for or 1€ evidence adduced, and the re would be the prisoner’s avowal of 8 (the mesmerist’s) opinion. as . ay was spent inthe vicinity of the oe ut the strange owner did not put n an appearance, ‘ployed atson had Sof caaet _the pleasurable excitement ohettiees his first snake—a wriggling neta nee out four feet long, that speedily BC es of the way of the human intruders. fre are many species of snakes in fe imamba. The horned adder, is also a ‘ ous Serpent, his “most usual lurking p’ace being at some windy turn in road path, where the sand, constantly driv- NS against his body, at length ‘covers ein up, leaving but his little horned ead visible, Passing animals occasion- 7° bare to booted feet.” lost of the African snakes fly at the Pproach of man, but often cause some Convenience by their proximity, owing 0 their fondness for warm places. Itis fait & novelty for men to rise from their § eds in Africa to find a snake under their } Pillows, or even in their shirts. Z, From the nature of some of the animals gehey encountered, Captain Firebrand, 7 With the knowledge previously possessed, tained a pretty accurate idea of their ‘@ latitude, and his general information *& as of invaluable service to our friends. e are not far from the Orange Wiver,” he said, “and if we could get Cape Colony, I should know my foot- za little better. As yon are bent upon *£,.°secuting the search forthe missing srntleman, Kaffir guides are indispens- é + You want a team of seasoned ani- Sand wagons laden with every neces- It will be mad folly to think of ering abont as we now are. These re filled with prowling animals, jackals, lions, wolves, and, f all, wild dogs, which travel in and attack anything under the THE REMARKABLE ADVENTURES OF A MESMERIST. i By HARVEY HICKS, Author of “Mat Merriman, the Mesmerist.” (“MAT MERRIMAN ABROAD” was commenced in No. 151. Back numbers can be obtained of all sun. Now, if you take my advice, we had better push on till we meet with some- body who can give us a correct idea of our whereabouts.” This was said after waiting in vain for two days for the reappearance of the wild man. Our hero had already expressed it as his opinion that the act of mesmeriz- ing the fellow would not be of the slight- est use for gleaning information. To the captain’s proposals, Mr. Whal- ley reluctantly consented, though he knew that what was said was perfectly true. The raft was overhauled, and what they could not conveniently carry was. left be- hind, care being taken, however, to se- cure the best of the weapons, and every ounce of gunpowder. One more night was to be spent in the hut of the wild man, and the party re- tired early to secure a good night's rest, it being their intention to start at day- break. But they were destined to have a sur- prise. Before their meal was concluded next morning, they heard a rush of many feet without, and from the window Fire- brand discovered that a dozen natives were approaching the hut. “To arms!” he exclaimed. “We are surrounded. Follow my orders, however, until we know the intentions of the visit- ors.” All were promptly on their feet, weap- ons in hand, for the natives were at the 1 wha ek? : 4 ; t were the mesmerist’s private opin- | occupants of the hut, and that their pres- would hear an outline of the accusation, | v4 pouth Africa, but the most deadly of allis! “ty Suffer, as well as men who will ee] closed door, jabbering in a most unintel- ligible fashion. This went on for a few minutes, and then the door was pushed open a few inches; upon which Captain Firebrand swung it back to its widest extent, and walked fearlessly to the threshold, the Africans retreating, and tumbling over each other in the direst confusion. | Seeing this, the captain put aside his gun, and held up his hands, as a token of peace, for it was clearly apparent that the natives had had no knowledge of the ‘ent intentions were the reverse of hostile. Indeed, with the exception of a spear each, they were unarmed. | “Whatdo you want?” said Firebrand. _“Friends—friends !” Most of the African natives understand a little English and Dutch, and the word | “friends” acted like a charm. The hours were em- | in getting a stock of food, and Alf and, having gone through all manner of The men dropped upon their chests, nonsensical evolutions, cautiously ap- proached the hut, the leader querying: ( “Friends?” | “Yes,” returned Firebrand. “No fight.” | “No shoot?” “Certainly not. Gentlemen,” he added, to his companions, “if you haveany coins in your pockets, make free with them among these fellows. They will be of great service to us, may be.” All the silver and coppers that could be mustered among them were handed to , the delighted savages, and the leader in- vited them to come and see his chief. $s your settlement close here?” quired Mr, Whalley. ‘name of your chief?” |° “Um_ settlement long way off. Chief ,name Pondo. Chief skin-hunting here.” | “Who is the man that lives here?” |asked Mat. é “The debbel,” was the quick reply, and each of the Africans bowed his head in awe, i The adventurers laughed, but immedi- ately checked what was evident profanity to the natives. “The devil, eh?” said Firebrand. “Did /you want to see him this morning?” | “Um! um!” in- “And what is the “What for? We want him also.” | “The great Chief Pondo very siek. The debbil make him better,” the leader an- swered, solemnly. 2 | “Thad always an idea,” observed Mr. ‘Whalley, aside, “thatthe African natives had a dread of evil spirits; and here we find them courting one whom they believe to be the prince of all that is bad.” “Tt’s a question whether they under- stand the meaning of ‘devil,’” returned ‘Firebrand. “The fellow has evidently given himself the name. If he has the cunning to overcome these savages—for some of them are cute, I can tell you— our experience of him may have been all a farce, and he js purposely hiding until we are gone.” “That is my belief also,” Mr. Whalley said, trembling with excitement; “and I cannot help associating him with the fate of my father.” “Well,” Mat interposed, “suppose we accompany these fellows to see the sick chief, and pretend that weare doctors? I can revive him, and we can learn as much about the wild man as he knows.” “And find where the settlement of Un- dulini is situated?” “Certainly. Most of the chiefs know of the movements of their rivals,” added Firebrand, quickly. “The idea cannot be beaten.” “Then let us away.” The captain communicated their desires to the Africans, intimating at the same time that our hero was a great medicine- man, from whom the hut-devil had fled in terror, and that he would very soon make their chief quite we]! again. “And make rain-water?” eagerly asked the leading savage. Firebrand whistled, but finally assured the Africans that everything could be accomplished by the white medicine-boy. Until now, Leo had been lying quietly in a dark corner of the hut, and had not been observed by the savages; but when Mat made a sign to him he bounded for- ward, the natives uttering yells of dis- may at the sight of the huge animal. “Don’t be alarmed,” Mat said. “My play-fellow will not hurt you. Forward. We wish to see the sick chief.” The Africans bowed, and started away, our party following in their rear. For a couple of miles they pushed along through a thick wood, and then burst into the open, where the grass was from seven to eight feet high. The savages headed for a trail evidently left by their previous passage, and, two abreast, the journey continued at a rapid pace, which Mat and the others did not at all enjoy. Another mile, and the foremost savages came to a sudden halt, with -cries of ter- ror. ; Our friends paused, not knowing what was the matter, when the natives in the rear plunged violently into their midst, screaming: “Big snake, big snake !” “By Jove! andit is a beauty!” ejacu- lated Mr. Whalley, bringing his gun to his shoulder, which action was promptly imitated by his companions, for not twenty. yards away was the head ofa huge reptile, fully two feet above the top of the grass, and seemingly making its way toward the men. “No shoot!” warned the leader of the natives. “White man no shoot snake. Pondo lose him eountry if big snake killed. Snake am dead king—Pondo’s brother.” The party, at a signal from Firebrand, lowered their weapons. .- “If the brute is likely to go another way, let him go,” the captain said. “It will not do for us to kill it, unless we are obliged to do so. These niggers would hunt us to the death as the ruin of their nation.” The snake seemed to have become sta- tionary, and was regarding the party with its baneful eyes. Obeying Firebrand's injunction, they waited until it began to approach nearer. “This will ruin our plans,” the captain said. “Be prepared to fire, lads, when I give the signal. We had better be hunted by the niggers than fall a certain victim to this beast.” The natives had fallen to their faces in abject terror, and still the snake ap- proached, its lurid eyes glowing like two suns. ~ Mat made a step forward, holding u his hand to prevent any interference on the part of his companions. “Back!” Firebrand said. “We had bet- ter all shoot together.” “No shoot, white man,” groaned the natives. “No shoot, else Pondo’s people all die.” “My intention is to take charge of this reptile, if possible,” our hero said, “We cannot afford to offend the natives, and if the snake is tamed, our power over them will be doubly great. I have never tried snake-charming before, but don’t see why I should not succeed. It wil] be a struggle between two mesmerists,” So saying, Mat Merriman went forward to meet the advancing reptile. When within two yards of it he stopped, and met its glaring gaze with | nerves of steel, his own eyes emitting lurid gleams. Even with a willing and nervous sub- ject, a mesmerist has to exert himself to the utmost to.overcome it in the first in- stance; but when opposed—magnetism to magnetism—the silent combat of will against will can be well imagined. One of the greatest points in an effort 2507 — of subjugation is confidence regarding the certain result of victory. Before man or beast, Mat never doubted his power, but strive as he would, he could not summon the usual feelings of certainty while standing before the swaying reptile. No wild animal, not even when driven to bay, will return the gaze of man with the steady, gloating eye of the snake, The serpent seems aware of its strength, and its terror-inspiring eyes gleam with a luring and deadly confidence. Our hero fixed his magnetic orbs on those of his enemy, and strove to over- come it until his brow reeked with per- spiration. Its eyes at first expanded to two globes of molten pale green fire, then they slowly contracted into a red line, for a few minutes opening and closing convulsively, until the serpent was com- pletely charmed. The operation had occupied fully twenty minutes, and even now Mat was not cer- tain of his absolute supremacy until the large snake slowly coiled itself at his feet. He was so exhausted that he had to lean against a tree for support, while he recovered himself a little. All this while his companions had held themselves in readiness with Joaded fire- arnis, and the natives had maintained their prostrate and abject positions, now and again moaning pitifully. “Danger is past,” Mat said; “but I never had such a doing in my life before.” Captain Firebrand stared aghast at the reptile, as it spread itself out at full length and opened its mouth with a kind of yawn, showing a row of pointed teeth, of dazzling whiteness, and a quivering purple sting. “Young fellow,” he growled, “you must have a close connection with Satan, to be able to do what you can.” “Why not credit me with more celes- tial gifts?” Mat laughed. “It seems strange that the wonderful should al- ways be attributed to the Prince of Evil, or rather that power with which I am gifted is. I can no more help it than any other sense I possess. Of course, I have cultivated it, and with the aid of science, shal] yet bring it to a state of absolute perfection; but I assure you, captain, that there is nothing evil in it.” “Something good, which I believes,” put in Bob Blunt, “if I may be impressed to express what is my internal convic- tion, after observing the beneficial effects on this representative of the spoiler of the horticultural garden of Eden,” “Without you, my boy, we should be wrecked,” Mr. Whalley said; “but ] have been in an agony of fear lest you had over-estimated your strength this time. You are sure all is safe?” “Tt seems so,” Alf Watson laughed, confidently. “Perfectly,” Mat replied, “and now our importance will be enhanced a hundred- fold in the eyes of the Africans. We are actually on terms of friendship with the serpent, who is supposed to be animated by the spirit of a dead chief. Hurrah!” It is not necessary for the writer of this story to say,for the information of the reader, that superstition and igno- rance go hand-in-hand; it is not an origi- nal remark, and even if it were, the “newness” of the idea would not be at all striking. However, let us repeat, ignorance is the forerunner of superstition—that is the same thing, slightly altered—but it serves our purpose well enough. The African and the Red Indian in no way differ from their white brethren, only theirs is another form, and not a whit worse, let us laugh at it as We will, if we exclude the bloody tracks of Pagan- ism, which exists in almost all parts of inhabited Africa. The woshippers adopt their creeds ac- cording to the influence of the priesthood, some fanciful and poetic, others harsh and murderous, Mat had mesmerized the huge serpent effectually—a feat which could only be accomplished by the most powerful mag- netic attraction, and surprised even him- self—the importance of which was vast in the eyes of the savages, who invested the reptile with all kinds of great qualities, In short, they worshipped it, or feared: it, believing that it was animated by the spirit of a dead king. f Mat made a signal, and the snake’s body became elevated, and careered around him in apparent enjoyment, at the sight of which the natives regarded him with an added reverence, and slowly assumed the per dicular again. “White boy very big docror?” said the leader, “Him cure the Chief Pondo. Pondo- very glad to see the young medicine-man, who is friendly with the spirit of his — brother.” “All right,” Mat answered; “lead away, and the snake will follow, as he wants to see Pondo very particularly.” The party having set once more in mo- tion, the serpent and Leo obediently brought up the rear—the most novel sight that the Africans had ever seen, 2508 GrooD NEW S. A sharp lookout was kept for the wild man all along the route, as Mr. Whalley had an intense desire to solve the mys- tery that surrounded him. Firebrand, during the latter part of the journey, was silent and thoughtful, for he was a man of large experience in the ways and customs of most races of man- kind, having spent nearly thirty years in traveling. He knew of the treachery that is the leading traitof some of the African tribes —the suspicious—and the speed with which news travels among these people from tribe to tribe, even beating the special express by hours and sometimes days. As some distant camps came into view, very similar to those employed by Euro- peans, by the advice of Captain Fire- brand, Mr. Whalley called a halt. “Friends,” he said, addressing the na- tives, “are yonder tents the traveling at- tendants of the great Pondo?” “Um! um!” “Then go you on first, and perpare the chief for our reception. We will follow very soon.” “And bring white medicine-man? Chief very sick. Weno find devil. Chief be angry, very big!” And the leader closed his eyes, put out his tongue, and passed the weapon in his hand entirely round his throat, “Short work of you, eh?” laughed Fire- brand, “Off you go, and we will all fol- low.” The leader nodded, made an obeisance to Mat and the imamba, and signaling his men, they all cantered swiftly away, (T0 BE CONTINUED.) ~~ 0 -_e —————- [This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form, } Careless Jack OR, THE Secret of the Mound Builders. By OLL COOMES. eee ee (** CARELESS JACK,’ was commenced in No. 152. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. } CHAPTER XV. A RACE FOR A LIFE. M ASN over the plain galloped Henri &2) Roche with fair Rena Armaund lying half-unconscious in his arms. ZS The moon bursting through the cloads, ever and anon, revealed his face and the evil expression upon it. A light of demoniac triumph gleamed in his dark eves as he gazed down into the white, fair face of his captive, and felt her young heart wildly eatobbing against his own breast. Not a murmur escaped her lips, though now and thena sob shook her form as with a convulsion. She had suffered un- til her senses of hope and fear alike had become chilled and numbed. The animal Roche bestrode glided along ata measured gallop, showing no signs of fatigue orexhaustion. It was accustomed to double burdens and such cruel treat- ment, for Henri Roche was its master. The plein was level and smooth almost as a floor, and covered with short buffalo grass. The timber on the left had been left behind, and the Niobrara alone de- fined the course of the man, Not a word passed between captor and captive until miles had been traversed; then Roche, feeling that he was beyond all danger with his prize, said in a soft, hypocritical tone: “Miss Armaund, are you tired of the position you have occupied so long?” “Tt matters not to me—much less to you, I should think,” replied the girl, “whether I occupy a position of ease or not. If death would relieve me, I wish it might soon come.” “Tut, tut, girl, that’s awful foolish to talk so,” the villain responded; “I tell you now and for good, that you will find in time to come that I am your friend— not your enemy.” “You need not try to deceive me with such assurances,” Rena replied; “I know that no friend nor gentleman would treat me as you have.” “Well, Ido not ask you to believe me now, but you will he faxced to admit that I have spoken the truth.” “T will admit nothing——” “Good heavens!” suddenly burst from the lips of the horseman, and he started as if with horror, “what was that?” He listened, and above.the “swish” of the grass and the dull thud of his horse’s hoofs, he could plainly hear the jar and hum of wheels. He glanced back over his shoulder, and then another involuntary exclamation burst from his lips. Down the wind in close pursuit of him came a strange object, with white, flaunting wings—an object that struck terror to the viliain’s heart, for well he knew it was the wind-ship of his most dreaded foe, Old Arkansaw Abe, with whom he had had to do upon a previous occasion, With a muttered oath, half-defiance and half-fearful, the man dug his roweled heels into his horse’s sides and sped on- ward, clinging all the more closely to his captive’s form, as though her capture was life or death with him. Then began a wild, fearful race upon the great prairie under the autumn night, Roche knew his enemy and the source from whence his vehicle derived its mo- tive power, and yet the villain was so ex- cited that he never thought once of tak- ing advantage of the wind, as against the wind-ship of his foe, but kept straight onward. Had he turned to the right or left, and by a circuitous route taken the back track, his pursuer would have been totally powerless. It is true, the Nio- brara lay upon his left, and a boundless plain upon the right, but the villain also knew that the cunning sail of his foe could be reefed to travel across the wind, Moreover, his only thoughts were of reach- ing the Indian stronghold fully twenty miles or more due north—the whole of which distance must be traversed over a smooth, unbroken prairie, with every ad- vantage in favor of the wind-ship. For a few minutes after discovering his pursuer, Roche gained upon him, but this sudden taxing of his horse’s utmost strength soon began to tell upon the noble beast, and he began to fail, while closer and closer upon his heels the winged de- mon began to creep. And Henri Roche, glancing back over his shoulder, realized the startling fact, but all the while he managed to keep from his ¢aptive the cause of his sudden affright and great ex. citemnent. Rena, however, mistrusted that something wasup. Her heart took courage, and, as they glided onward, she suddenly heard a voice behind shout forth : “Halt, there! halt, or by the gods of Mount Olympus, 11 fire into you! Halt, T say, or I’ll plug your carcass through !” “Oh, it is Uncle Abe!” Rena cried, as she started up in the arms of her captor, scarcely aware of what she was saying or doing. “Silence, girl!” hissed Roche, “if you give me tha lena’ trouble, I will kill you! I am not going to lose allthis game— never !” The villain spoke in a tone that fairly froze the girl’s blood in her veins, and sent a chill of horror to her young heart. “Halt!” again rang oué that voice be- hind, loud and desperate. Roche heeded it not, but plunging his red rowels into the smoking, bleeding sides of his horse, still kept onward. Ping! suddenly rang a pistol from behind, and the villain’s horse uttered an almost human cry and staggered; but it did noc fall. Gathering itself up it plunged wildly, madly forward. But it was crippled, and it could not last much longer. 4 The wind-ship was gaining upon him— it was now so close that Rena, herself, could hearthe rattle of the wheels and the shouts of Old Abe, Henri Roche seemed conyulsed with silent terror and desperation. His whole form fairly quivered, and his breath came thick and hard. 5‘ “TI pity “Wicked man,” said you.” : : “Pity!” sneered the villain, cruelly, ‘curses upon such pity! But I’ll not be robbed of everything!” : As he spoke he drew from his bosom a small pistol. It’s polished barrel and sil- ver mountings glinted in the moon-rays. He placed the muzzle to Rena’s temple, and pulled the trigger. There was a double report—two pistol-shots rang out aS one, mingled with a scream from the girl’s lips. “There!” hissed the murderous wretch, “no other shall possess you living!” Then he hurled the body of Rena Arm- aund to the earth, and with a fiendish laugh sped on, followed by the wind-ship of Old Abe. : The moon hid her face behind a cloud, and soon a deep silence hovered like the pall of death over the great bound- less prairie. CHAPTER XVI. AN INDIAN DANDY. SCAR TABOR, Ike Cromwell, and Dick Grayson watched the wind- ship of Old Abe until it had dis- “A” appeared in the distance, when they turned and moved back to their former position, from where they .could see the Indian camp. The savages, how- ever, soon became quiet, and the young Rena, trappers broke camp and moved away up the Niobrara, determined not to quit the vicinity until Careless Jack Kerr had been foundand Arkansaw Abe heard from again, even though they had to remain there all summer, They passed the night on the river- shore, and with the first streaks of dawn they were astir. Breakfasting on the remnants of their evening meal, they struck out down the river, They had journeyed some distance, and were nearing a little stream called Rock Creek, paying tribute to the Niobrara, when, to their surprise and joy, they came suddenly upon Jack Kerr, who was making his way westward in search of them and his other friends. A shout of the wildest joy burst from the lips of the boys, as the little band realized that all were safe together once more, They sat down upon a log, and, seeming to forget all else but their own happiness, entered into a animatea con- versation. They talked over the night of the storm when they were separated and swept away upon the bosom of the mad liver, and narrated their adventures since that time. When Careless Jack had heard of the meeting with Arkansaw Abe, and his pursuit of Henri Roche, he asked: “Have you any hopes of the old man rescuing the girl, boys?” “There’s no telling what that old novelty can’t do,” answered Ike Crom- well, “for he’s a singular old Dick.” “Yes,” Dick Grayson added, “he’s a match for Old Arkansaw Bey, and I think that if Roche keeps due east with the wind, he’ll catch the villain, for he started out with his gig rigged and ban- ners flying.” “Yes, he went off like a cannon-ball— just fairly humming,” said young Tabor. “But I should think Roche could easily dodge him.” “That’s a fact,” said Cromwell. “T pray that girl will escape the clutches of that man,” replied Jack, fervently. Jack’s comrades exchanged significant glances, when Dick Grayson said: “I do believe, boys, that our captain is in love with that girl.” Jack Kerr’s look and smile of embar- rassment told that Dick was about right. “Well, I-don’t blame him for talling in love with her, for she was most awful pretty,” replied Cromwell, endeavoring to relieve the blushing Jack. “Well, boys,” said Dick, ( o——"” “Hist! silence! look there!” suddenly exclaimed Oscar Tabor, pointing through an opening in the woods toward the creek, on the banks of which stood a tall, ungainly Indian warrior, who had sasy chatted from the dense woods be- yond, “A savage!” exclaimed Cromwell, rais- ing his rifle and leveling it upon the In- ian. “Don’t fire, Ike!” said Careless Jack, “there may be a hundred of others near. Let’s watch him,” The savage paused on the bank of the creek, and looked up and down the stream, then he waded into the water nearly ankle deep, and leaning over and placing his hands upon his knees, gazed down into the water at his own face re- flected therein. He turned his head from side to side, pursed up his mouth, and then opened it wide, winked at himself, shook his huge fist at his own image, made a frightful face, and then sisalste, ening up, he indulged in a fit of rollick- ing laughter—at_ the same time slapping his thighs and kicking a perfect sheet of water around him, “The everlastin’ red fool,” said Oscar, “he’s crazy or drunk.” Pad ugly as a muley ox,” added Jack _1+—~+>______ Swimming in the Arctic, — ——_ «—_——_— HE Eskimos are dependent upon the > sea for everything they eat and for all the clothes they wear, but none of them know how to swim. ‘This seems strange-at first, but becomes less mysterious when we take into account the fact that in the Arctic Ocean the tem- perature of the water is never above the freezing point. The natives of that region guard against the danger of drowning by making the covering of their boats so tight about the body of the fisherman that there is no leakage, even if they do happen to overturn, When the Kite was in McCormick Bay with the party of Lieutenant Peary, one of the crew took aswim, which is de- scribed by Dr. Keely: “One of the men declared that the water looked so pleasant that he would swim from the ship to the shore and back again. Those who heard the assertion at- tempted to dissuade him, pointing to the numerous icebergs which fioated about ip~ every direction. Even when he stripped; we all thought that asingle plunge would serve to make him change his mind, “ Meanwhile a crowd of curious natives had gathered round, and were gazing at him in mild astonishment. Finally he took the plunge, and at once started, Swimming vigorously for the shore. “Alarmed for his safety, and fearin that a cramp might overtake him, i jumped into a little boat, which was moored alongside the ship, and followed him, being prepared to render assistance, — if it were needed. He reached the shore in safety, however, and turning reso- lutely round, swam back to the vessel, a distance of about two hundred yards. “He received, of course, an ovation, but was almost at once taken with a chill, which at one time looked serious. A vig- orous rubbing restored his circulation to its normal condition, and a brief rest made him as well as ever, It was re- garded, however, asa foolhardy feat, and one that none were anxious to emulate, ze “The effect on the natives of a sight of ‘ the swimming man was most curious, They regarded him with constantly growing astonishment. In Greenland, the only use they know for water is for drinking purposes, Probably many of them had accidentally fallen into the water, but they dread and hate its effects as much as a cat does.” ———_—___—.@—9—@—__. HOW THE PHONOGRAPH WAS IN- VENTED. A number of years ago, at the time when Edison was experimenting on dia- phragms for the telephone, he had con- structed a number of small sheepskin drumheads to compare with the metal ones. To some of these sheepskin dia- EAs he had attached a small needle, which was intended to project toward the magnet and assist in eonveying the vibra- tion caused by the human voice. The sheepskin diaphragms did not ful- fill Edison’s expectations, and were thrown aside as useless, sistants discovered that by holding them in their mouths, and emitting a guttural sound between the lips, a peculiar noise approaching music could be produced. n_ passing one of the men engaged in playing on a diaphragm one day, Edison playfully attempted to stop the noise b touching the projecting mantlepin with his finger, and had no sooner done so than he started. “Do that again,” said Edison, and it was repeated, and again the pin im- elas upon his finger, to his evident elight. He repeated the experiment with other assistants, getting them to talk as well as hum against_ the diaphragm. he retired to his den, and commence drawing diaphragms for new machinery which his assistants speedily made, and a few days later the first phonograph was — put together. The phonograp garded J sold for some $1,000,000, : Toying idly — with these discarded diaphragms his as-“ eee ; was re-_ as atoy at first, but lateron it — lt GOOD NEWS. 2509 (This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.] | EXILED JO SIBERIA; f VLADIMIR SARADOFF’S ORIME. BY WM. MURRAY GRAYDON, Author of ‘Commodore Frank.” {EXILED TO SIBERIA” was commenced in No. 146. CHAPTER XXV. BESIEGED BY A TIGER. HEN Maurice awoke some time later, both of his companions were sleeping soundly. ‘'hesun was far to the west, and the air _was chilly and piercing. Ue threw off the rug, and sat up. A rustling sound not far away attracted his attention, and, looking across the forest, he saw a deer—a big buck with branch- ing horns—strollin ast an open glade, thirty yards distant. — With sudden excitement he extended a trembling hand for his revolver and rose to his feet. He was hungry for fresh ee venison, and here was too good a chance _to be neglected. The canned food and fe presente make a wide detour and get ahead of me 3 ~ musty cheese put up-by the starosta was beginning to grow wearisome. _ He delayed for a moment, uncertain whether to awake his companions or not. “Better let them sleep,” he thought, “I won't be gone long.” The deer by this time had crossed the glade and vanished in the forest beyond, so Maurice started off briskly, intending is victim. He ran up the valley for nearly a quarter of a mile, keeping close _ to the base of the hill, and then crept cautiously down into the hollow, peering ahead through the leafless branches of the trees. _ Still he saw no trace of he deer. paused and listened intently, but the for- est was very still. He drew back into a begs of bushes, and sat down on a fallen The minutes passed on without inter- ruption, and he had about made up his mind to return to his companions, when sudden crash echoed through the forest, and he sprang to his feet in wild excite. ent, just in time to see the frightened _ deer go past him like a streak. ae had scared the animal badly. Dae possibility that atiger was lurking py in the vicinity made Maurice’s blood run “cold, but on second thought he was in- clined to believe that his companions _ were awake and searching for him. _ Under this impression he was about to leave his hiding-place and start up the palsy, ate a oe saet his eyes that him to croue with Gutle eeper in the bushes _ Through the forest, less than forty yards distant, came a burly Cossack, re- Splendent in his green uniform, ,in one hand he held a rifle, and with the other he led his horse. 3 Close behind him was a second soldier, beret foot, and leading his steed by the __ They advanced into the open glade, bending over the ground and apparently onversing. Like a flash the truth entered Janvice’s mind. They had discovered his oot-prints in the pat were following up his trail. ‘OY &@ moment he®gave himself up for 9st. The Cossacks were between him anions, so that retreat up as cut off. The foot-marks he direction he had taken, and nger of discovery at any mo- n He had presence of mind enon 2 ‘ gh to re- eta the steep and rocky hill-side be- i iim If he could gain that, and ai YUP the face, he might escape after ow Wie Cossacks certainly could not fol- m on horseback, and on foot the ©S were even, ‘rusting the revolver into his balt. he | on hands and knees, and crawled Pages forest until the enemy were ‘Sight. Then, rising to his feet, he ed off across the valley at full speed. mere run brought him to rising UT gong he pressed on up the slope than ever, and soon he reached a tretch at the base of a hill. lance brought despair to his heart. Were steep and barren rocks, ‘ny feet in air, and here and unted pine tree. : d this place was impossible, A dodges jutted out from the dran at full speed, search: 3 Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. } ing vainly for some nook to hide iff, ora break in the rugged precipice that would allow him to ascend. tle tore through thorn bushes, and vruised his feet on sharp stones, but these mishaps were unheeded, for he imagined constantly that the Cos- sacks were on his track. The path now became blocked with loose bowlders, and in his haste among these he tripped, and came heavily to the ground. He rose painfully to his feet—rose to find himself face to face with a monstrous tiger—a huge tawny beast that lay supine on the ground, The disturbed brute lifted his head sleepily, and surveyed the intruder with glittering eyes. His long, spotted tail twitched, and from his throat issued a deep growl. s The tiger made no attempt to rise. He looked at Maurice and Maurice looked at him, and in this position they re- mained for a full minute. Maurice slid his hand cautiously toward his belt and the revolver was already in his grasp, when he suddenly remembered that even should he succeed in shooting the tiger— which was improbable—the shot would at once draw the Cossacks to the spot, Meanwhile, the tiger, squatted outside on the ground, was working himself into a terrible rage. Presently he sprang to the mouth of the crevice, and rolling half over on his side made a vicious dig at Maurice with his fore paws, catching the lad’s arm and ripping open the heavy sleeve from the elbow down. The sharp claws tore the flesh, and the sine]] of blood rendered the beast furious. With eyes that shone like fire, and snarling fero- ciously, he tried ayain and again to reach his victim—jamming his head against the stalactites and stretching his great claws like india rusber, Maurice drew himself as far back as possible, expecting each moment that the great paws would seize him and drag him out. He made no further attempt to strike the brute with the stone he still held in his hand, fearing it would only incite him to greater efforts. All this time the loaded pistol was still in his belt, but he dared not fire. He could easily reach it, and no doubt he could kill the tiger without difficulty, but the report would surely bring the Cossacks tothe spot. If his life was in actual danger he determined he would use the weapon, not before. He little thought how soon the alternative would be presented. For five minutes or more, the tiger \ wi fol yoann fo - “ \< Wh ANNA TibadnLN what Aaa? Wi, | Eo Yo, / ae ih Hox» Ory Y/ KN Y LZ, , 4h = i= THROUGH THE FOREST CAME A BURLY COSSACK, and he would be in a worse plight than ever. The tiger solved the difficulty by slowly rising, and that broke the spell. ~ Wheeling around Maurice darted at the top of his speed back along the cliff.- A hoarse growl warned him that the tiger was coming in pursuit, and in des- peration he cast his eyes about for a refuge, Such a place met his sight instantly, a deep. crack in the very edge of the hill, running parallel with the ground. tt was ossibly wide enough for him to craw] n, and, without stopping to weigh the chances, he threw himself flat and ran his head and shoulders into the crevice. It was atight squeeze, but with a pro- digious effort he managed to drag his whole body inside and crawl back a few f-et from the opening, This he had barely accomplished when the pursuing tiger pounced angrily down upon the spot and thrust his great jaws into the hole, rrowling horribly all the while. Maurice, seizing a loose fragment of stone, dealt the brute a violent blow on the nose. He drew back instantly, screaming with rage, and Manrice took advantage of this interval to squeeze still deeper into the crack. The floor was of soft, sticky clay, the roof which pressed down on his head and body was covered with stalactites, and from these fell water with a constant drip. His situation was decidedly uncomfort- able. Hecould scarcely move his legs, and he had the restricted use of one arm only, while the icy water chilled him to the bone, . thrust his claws repeatedly into the crevice. Then he drew off a yard or so and sat on his haunches, licking his bloody nose and whining angril Hope sprang up anon in Maurice’s breast, and he began to think that the brute would leave him in peace, But sud- denly, with a hoarse grow], the tiger bounded forward again, and with its powerful fore paws began to dig furiously at the soft miry clay about the mouth of the hole. The loose chunks of dirt flew in every direction, and the cavity grew larger every second. In a very short time the tiger would be able to enter. Maurcie realized that if anything was to be done, it must be done at once. _Either he must slay the animal at the risk of being recaptured by the Cossacks, or he must be torn to pieces and devoured. He chose the first alternative. At that moment, face to face with the brute’s blood-shot eyes and lolling tongue, even the mines of Kara seemed preferable to such a death. With some difficulty he drew the re- volver from his belt, and succeeded in coeking it. . The tiger was still pawing away with undiminished energy, and even now the cavity thus made seemed to Maurice’s eyes fully large enough to admit the brute'’s head and shoulders. Still, although in the very jaws of death, as it were, he hesitated to fire. Then he remembered that, with one stugle spring, the tiger could reach him, and, in sudden terror, be pointed the re- volver full at the savage eyes. His finger was already pressing the trigger, when an inspiration flashed into his mind, that changed the whole course of events. “The pepper,” he exclaimed, aloud. “I'll try it,” and, lowering the weapon, he thrust his hand into his coat pocket. It so happened. that among the pro- visions provided by the starosta had been a small bottle of red pepper. Platoff, with the Russian fondness for fiery dishes, made frequent use of this on nearly everything he ate, and that very morning, having forgotten it when they left their camping place, Maurice had picked it up and put it in hisown pocket. Now he suddenly remembered it. He |gave asigh of relief when his fingers closed on the bottle, and, drawing it out, he pulled the cork with his teeth. The tiger suddenly suspended oper- ations, and blew the dirt off his whisk- ers. Now was the critical moment. Reaching out his arm, Maurice dashed half the contents of the bottle into the brute’s very eyes. The effect exceeded his highest antici- pations. Sneezing and snarling in one breath, the tiger sprang away from the crevice, and rolled in agony on the ground, completely overcome by the pun- gent dust. Maurice held the bottle in readiness for a second onslaught. Overjoyed at his success he was watch- ing the brute’s strange antics, when sud- denly over the edge of the hill appeared the Astrakhan cap of a Cossack, speedily followed by the head and shoulders. Before he could see whether more were behind, a: ifle cracked sharply—from some spot up among he rocks, apparently—and the Cossack toppled over backward with a cry of agony. CHAPTER XXVI. A STRANGE MEETING. HE rifle-shot scared the tiger. Roar- ing with pain, he dashed up the edge of the valley, and disappeared. For a moment all was silent, and Maurice in his hiding-place forgot his fear in astonishment at what had hap- pened, Several minutes passed, and he was thinking of creeping out and mak- ing a dash for the forest, when two -or three fragments of stone rattled down to the ground not a dozen yards away. A moment later, a man dropped nimbly from an overhanging rock—a tall, slim fellow inatorn and faded Cossack uni- form, with a rifle in his hand. Knowing that this stranger must be aware of his presence, Maurice hastily crawled out of his hole and stood up- right. As he did so, the stranger turned, revealing the haggard features of Captain Daroman. Maurice leveled the revolver straight at the man’s head. “Don’t attempt to use your rifle, or I’ll put a bullet through you,” he said, quickly. : The Russian’s face expressed the utmost surprise, as he saw who it was that con- fronted him. Then, advancing a step, he said: “Put up your weapon. I mean you no harm. Weare now companions in mis- fortune. And so it was you the tiger was after? I would have driven the brute off long ago, but knowing that the Cossacks were in the neighborhood, dared not fire.” Something in the Russian’s face con- vinced Maurice that he meant no harm. He lowered his weapon, and restored it to his belt. : “Quick ! let us get away from this,” ex- claimed the captain. “There may be other soldiers in the neighborhood. There is no time to lose, if we would escape.” He started off rapidly along the base of the cliff, and Maurice followed close be- hind. wondering at the strange fate that had brought about this meeting with his old enemy. Suddenly he remembered that he was traveling directly away from his friends, and his heart sickened at the thought that they were probably even now in cus- tody of the soldiers. “Stop!” he cried to Daroman, “I must go back. My companions are up the val- ley a mile from here.” ~ “Your companions!” exclaimed the Russian. “You are not alone, then?” “No,” reptied Maurice, and he briefly explained who was with bim. “But what became of those -two Cos- sacks?” he added, anxiously; “you hit one, did vou not?” “Yes,” said Daroman, coolly. “I shot the foremost fellow in the head. He fell back, and his comrade carried him off down the hill. They did not look for such a warm reception. They have been lurking in the neighborhood for several days. They discovered my tracks in the - snow, and hoped to capture me, They are are not faraway. That is why we mrst are trying to reach the seaport?” | only stagglers, but larger bodiesof troops _ leave the locality at once. Of couse, you. ~ + eee 5 a a ees eras 2 51¢ (career entire sei ei taenineennenenenrnten hrs “Yes,” said Maurice, reluctantly, “that is our object.” “Well,” said Daroman, “I shall be glad to accompany you. I have had quite enough of Russia, and will endeavor to reach some other country. I know some- thing of the Pacific coast, and of Vladi- vostok, and that experience is at your benefit, if you will accept it.” “Wait until wesee Platoff,” Maurice answered, evasively. The Russian might be sincere enough, but his past conduct was against him. They turned down into the valley, Maurice leading the way. Daroman’s as- surance that only those twosoldiers were in the neighborhood had quieted his fears. One of them was probably dead, and his companion could do nothing single- handed, It was nearly sundown when the spring was reached, and to Maurice’s consterna- tion the spot was deserted. “They have gone away!” he exclaimed, “T must find them before night comes.” “What's that?” said Daroman. “Listen |” A low clear whistle was distinctly heard, and as Maurice whistled in reply, Phil and Platoff broke from the bushes and came gladly forward, They regarded Captain Daroman with evident aversion, and Platoff listened with a passive, unchanging countenance as Maurice explained his absence, and re- lated his adventure with the tiger, and the meeting with the Russian. Then Daroman briefly explained his object and wishes, speaking with ap- parent frankness and sincerity. His thin, care-worn face and shrunken limbs ex- cited the boys’ pity, but Platoff allowed no sentimental considerations to influ- ence him. “You can accompany us,” he said, after a short deliberation, “but bear this in mind, at the first sign of treachery I will shoot you as I would a dog. I have little love for those who wear the Czar’s uni- form.” Daroman’s face flushed. “You forget,” he replied, “that escape from Siberia means as much to meas it does to you.” That was the only reference he ever made to the past. y tacit consent the subject was avoided. “You are sure, then, that only these two Cossacks were in the neighborhood ?” resumed Platoff. “Yes,” said Daroman, “that is all. They were searching for me, and did not know of your presence,” “They passed here not half an hour ago,” said Platoff, “that is why we hid in the bushes; the one you shot was lying across the saddle, dead, I have no doubt, and his companion, also mounted, was leading the other horse. This offense only makes things worse. We must be many miles from here before morning.” Daromin assented to this, and urged an immediate start. : Platoff’s suggestion to strike still deeper into the country toward Mongolia was discussed and: approved. They ate a hearty meal—which Daroman devoured with ravenous greed—and just astwilight dimmed the forest the journey was begun, It was uncertain traveling in the dark, for hills and ravines had to be crossed, but Platoff led the way with unerring sagacity, and when morning dawned they were inany miles from the valley where Maurice had met with such a startling adventure. All that day they pressed forward, and not until darkness came again would Platoff permit a halt. Then they stopped in a thick forest, and after a substantial meal, prepared without fire, they slept al- ternately, Platoff or one of the boys stay- ing constantly on guard. {n the morning they were off again, and thus for three days they traveled steadily forward, meeting neither man nor beast, and stopping for rest at night. It is true that tigers and wolves were often heard in the forest, but they remained at a dis- tance. The tedium of the march was beguiled by Captain Daroman, who entertained his companions with the narration of his own wonderful escape and journey. If what he said was true, his sufferings had been frightful indeed, and the boys real- ized all the more how great wasthe cause for gratitude on their part. The captain, no doubt, expected a like return .of confidence, but if so, he was disappointed, for Platoff was very reticent and guarded about what he said, and, moreover, cautioned the boys against giving any information that might react in the future against the kind friends who had aided them in their escape. The weather remained good, very chilly at night, but pleasant during the day, A searcity of food now threatened again. The provisions supplied by Poussin were about gone, and on the evening of the fourth day the last remaining scraps were devoured. me , “Tn two days, or three at the most, we will reach Vladivostok,” said Captain Daroman; “we must get along as best we can until then. We.have weapons, it is true, but it would be unwise to make use of them,” “We have money, also,” said Platoff, jingling the belt of rubles, “but it might as well be so much dirt for all the good it can do us, It will come of use, though, later on,” he added; “a hundred rubles will be a strong temptation to some ship captain in the harbor of Vadi- vostok.” Then, before it grew dark, he set some snares in the forest, though with little hope of trapping anything. But the morn- ing brought with it a pleasing surprise, The despised snares contained, one a rab bit, the other a bird. A fire was kindled, and the game was cooked and eagerly de- voured. This afforded strength for an- other day’s journey, and late in the after- noon they stopped on the banks of a nar- row stream. With some loose stones Platoff con- structed a rude trangular dam across a shallow part of the channel, leaving a narrow aperture in the center, At this place he held arude net madefrom the lining of his coat, while Maurice and Phil, enteriug the stream some yards above, waded slowly down toward the dam, beating the water on each side with sticks. In this way a dozen nice fish were procured, sufficient for supper that night and breakfast the following morning. Poussin had given them some salt, and Maurice had fortunately held on to the bottle of red pepper, so, with the aid of these condiments, the fish were quite palatable. ' They traveled that day with increased caution, and halted when the sun was low, in a deep valley. All were visibly excited. One more march—less perhaps—would bring them to Vladivostok. They forgot for the mo- ment what yet lay before them—perils to appall the stoutest heart. Bidding his companions remain hidden in the bushes, Platoff climbed up the steep hill to the eastward, hoping to gain a sight of the distant sea, but the horizon wasdimmed by misty gray clouds, and he returned disappointed, “Vladivostok is not far away,” said Captain Daroman. “I am sure of that, for I have been in this locality before. One thing in our favor is the wild nature of the country. Desolate and uninhabited hills slope clear down to the town, and almost to the edge of the bay.” The fugitives devoured the only food they had—a couple of cold fish cooked at a fire the night before—and then stretched themselves on the ground in the thickest part of the forest. What little sleep they got was broken, and at midnight a cold, steady rain began to fall that put a sum- mary end to all further rest. It dropped through the foliage and crept in little rivulets along the ground, The remainder of the night was passed sitting up. At Saat morning dawned, cold, wet, and cheerless, and Platoff, with a few words of encouragement, led his compan- ions off in single file. , Realizing the increased dangers that now surrounded them, he observed every possible precaution, seeking out the deep- est part of the forest, and keeping in the shelter of trees and stones. It rained steadily all the morning, and with wet clothes and empty stomachs the fugitives felt miserable indeed. At noon, as they were ascending a steep, wooded ridge the sky brightened visibly, and Platoff, who had reached the summit at that moment in advance of the rest, shouted with joy and waved his hands in theair. His com- panions, with fast beating hearts, hur- ried to the spot. Maurice was ahead; and as he gained the crest, and stood beside Platoff, he saw spread before his 3 hn the scene that he tak so often dreamed of—a scene that he could never, never forget. Six or seven miles tothe eastward lay the Pacific, a gleaming blue sheet, lit up by a moment- ary bar of sunlight that had broken through a rift in the clouds. Still farther beyond, sea and sky faded into the dusky, gray horizon. But closer at hand, along the base of sloping green hills, lay the graceful curving of the Bay of Anner, with here and there aship riding at an- chor, while slightly to the south, a sight never to be forgotten, lay Vladivostok, its roofs and spires and the shipping in the harbor bathed in a golden mist. “A sign from Heaven,” cried Platoff; “God is with us. He will aid us to es- cape,” and reverently taking off his cap he fell on his knees, All follawed his example, overcome with gratitude and emotion. In silence they looked their fill at the glorious view, neither willing nor able to speak. Captain Daroman was apparently as deeply impressed as his comrades. strange light was in his eyes, a flerce and sudden joy upon his face, : Thus they knelt for some moments, and even as they looked the golden haze faded away, dark clouds hid the broken rift, NEw ss. the sea paled and vanished, and a great hazy storm-cloud, massed in billowy folds, came sweeping landward, hiding in its advance the harbor, and the town, and the green foot-hills. “Come,” said Platoff, rising to his feet, “come, it is time to go.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) 1+ ___ A STRUGGLE IN THE DARK. _——- BY ROGER STARBUCK, ee HEAVY gale was blowing from . the south-west, furiously tossing the broad waters of the Pacific, and driving the foam in misty flakes over the crests of the: roaring waves, The moon, occasionally emerging from behind the clouds rolling in torn masses over the sky, would for a moment light the vast wilderness of ocean, revealing the summits of the towering seas and faintly lighting tlie watery caverns be- tween, Our ship—the St. Mark—rolled heavily as she boomed upon her way under close- reefed topsails and topmast staysail, Fore and aft her timbers groaned like dying men, while her three tall masts, jerking and straining, seemed on the point of going by the board. Crouching behind the windlass to es- cape a drenching sea, that suddenly burst over the weather bulwarks, I found my- self by the side of Achok~-a tall, supple native, with shoulders and breast as broad as those of a lion, and long, flex- ible arms, the latter of which did me good service on the present occasion; for had not their owner thrown them around my body I should certainly have been swept overboard. “A thousand thanks!" I gratefully ex- claimed, when the danger was past. “You have saved my life!” “Yes,” answered the Malay—for such he was—“me have saved your life, but me quick take him if you no promise not to say anything of the man whose head me been break with cooper’s hammer !" “What?” I gasped, staring upon him with amazement. “What do you mean? You are jesting !” The eyes of the native flashed like those of a serpent. I could see his white teeth gleaming in the darkness like a dotted chalk line on a blackboard, “Yes, me jest,” he exclaimed, laugh- ing; but it struck me that the laugh was somewhat foreed—“me only make fun; so we will no say any more about it.” He clutched my arm as he spoke, and peering into my face with his black eyes, probably read there the sudden suspicion which his singular manner had really ex- cited in my mind. “Ah!” he almost shrieked, clutching me by the throat, |‘ Promise—promise you no say a word about de murder and me let you go, If not, I serve you de sane way, and then throw you overboard, too! “Achok,” 1 calmly answered, pushing his hand from my thraat, “you know me too well to hope to get a promise from me by means of a threat. I knew noth- ing, and now only have your words for it, of your having killed your enemy, the Kanaka, and—— “Ah! how you know who, if you not see me do it? How vou know it was the Kanaka that me kill?” “I conclude so from the fact of your having fought with him yesterday in the forecastle and his having beat——” “He never beat me s’pose my foot not have slipped !” interrupted Achok, grind- ing his teeth, “He strike me many times while me down; and me swear me take his life. Well, now so much having been said, me may as well say all. Me have taken his life. Mestruck him down with coopér’s hammer and throw his body overboard, just before you come behind the windlass.” “T thought I heard a groan as I came forward,” I answered; “but I supposed I might have been mistaken. This is hor- rible, Achok, perfectly horrible; and “Promise! Promise you!” he inter- rupted, impatiently. “Me have saved your life, and so you should be willing not to get me hanged.” Before I could reply, however, he seemed to have concluded to act accord- ing to the adage that “dead men tell no tales,” for he again grasped me by the throat, and, raising his knife, would cer- tainly have plunged it into my bosom, if I had not knocked it from his grasp by a heavy blow upon his wrist. A desperate struggle now ensued be- tween us, and, as he was the stronger party, he soon contrived to hurl me upon my back. Putting both knees upon my breast, he clasped my throat with his SETAE. hands, and I believed my doom was sealed. The horrible pains of suffo- ‘eation were beginning toreach my throat and brain, when a sudden roll of the ship caused my tormentor to fall upon his side. With a powerful exertion I con- trived to loosen myself from his clasp, and I then sprang to my feet. Quick as lightning his arms were now thrown around me from behind, and, in spite of all resistance on my part, I was borne to the lee bulwarks. With his wonderful strength he lifted me as I might have lifted a child, and to my hor- ror I found myself suspended over the boiling, foaming caldron of water that raged alongside of the careening ship. I shouted for help, but my shipmates, un- fortunately, were in the after part of the vessei, and could not hear my voice above the din of the storm. “Now, then,” yelled the native, “away you go—cursed white man! ‘Dead men no tell tales!’ ” ve He let go of me as he spoke, bu. clutched at arope that hung over th bulwarks, and, notwithstanding his ef- forts to shake me from it, I clung to it with a tenacity natural under the circum- stances, The Malay fairly screamed with rage, and sudienis Isaw aclasp-knife gleam- ing in his hand. He raised it above the rope, and my heart sank within me. [I could not mistake his fiendish intention of cutting the strands, “TI will die like a man!” I muttered; “and may God take care of my wife and children |” But, even as I spoke, the ship rolled her, bulwarks under; and the Malay, who had incautiously leaned over then: while holding his knife suspended, fell head- long into the dark, stormy waters, und was carried, shrieking, far away from the ship, to leeward. Seizing the rail, I regained the deck, and, hastening aft, I related my story to my shipmates, whose astonishment may be imaigned, and who united in congra ulating me upcn my escape. “T never liked the looks of that Malay,” said an old tar; “and though I ain’t in the habit of speaking disrespectfully of the dead, it’s my opinion that the chap has met with his just deserts for murder- ing the Kanaka.” ; oo THE JOCKEY’S LAST RACE. —_+——_ BY JACK PERCY, thereat TT was about half-past ten o’clock on iL a cool night in October, as a man sat, half bent, over a turf fire which was burning in a little mud cabin on the outskirts of the town of Kildare, Ireland. A jockey’s cap and a pair of knee breeches were hanging on a nail, and a pair of top boots stood in one cor- ner, A woman was seated on a low three-legged stool], with herelbows placed upon her knees and her hands. Every little while she would mutter afew words in avery low tone, as if she was fearful of disturbing the — slumber of a man who was lying on a wretched straw mattress, which was placed against the wall on one side of the cabin. The sleeper seemed to be about twenty- five or SR Ener ee years of age, very short and slightly built. His face was flushed, and he rolled and tossed in his miserable bed as if suffering from a fever. Sud- denly he became more and more restless, and in afew moments he awoke, and said in a feeble voice: “I’m in bad luck, for here I’m lying on me back whin I ought to be up and work- ing hard. And there’s Tim Oulahan going to ride Blazer in the shteeple chase the morrow. It's hard.”. He paused for a moment, and then said with sudden fire: “I'll luk at the race, though, av I die for it. “Oh, my darlin’ boy, don’t go. Don’t go, for yer poor ould mother’s sake! Just think of the crowd, and the crushing, and the fightin’ there will be on the Cur. | ragh.” (The race-course at Kildare.) re “I’m not going to the Curragh,” replied the man. “The race is to be a five miler, and by the same token there will be mighty few horses in at the finish. Whin Tim Oulahan was here yesterday, he towld methe course they was gong to take, and they’re going through a big field on Misther Strahan’s estate. is a high fince on one side of the field, and a shtone wall and deep ditch on the other; so I’m thinkin’ some av thim will get their fill of shteeple chasing afore they’re through wid the race.” “But ye're too wake to walk,” said his mother, with sudden hope, “and ye can’t. get there, anyway.” “Faith I can,” replied Jemmy; ye of for friendship.” The woman evidently knew that any further effort on her part would be use- less, for she resun ed her seat at the fire while Jemmy, after muttering to himself hex chin resting on There “for. Pierce Flanagan will be goin’ by here the 4 morrow on his way to the Curragh, an’ © he’ll take us as far as the field I’ve tould — eam fee AYOHOmM ££ & Le) MeO pes 6.55 tO rrRRe < OO. od O2R»1 ROR Re. s “or GOOD NEWS. 25121 for a few moments, sank into a deep slumber, ; ; About twelve o’clock on the following Es day a jaunting car was driven up to the door, and aman got down and entered the cabin. “Get yerself ready, mother,” said Jemmy, “for Pierce must be in a hurry, an’ the horses shtart at two o’clock.” Mrs. Daly put on hercloak, and with Flanagan’s assistance placed Jemmy comfortably in the car, and in a few min- utes they reached the field Daly had ‘spoken of, where Flanagan let them down and pursued his way to the Cur- ragh, On each side of the field a small green flag was flying to show the jockeys the direction they were to take in the race, and as Daly had said, there was a very high fence on one side of the field, anda , stone wal! with a deep ditch just beyond x=? it, on the other. A couple of hours elapsed, and Daly he- ‘Ae gan to complain slightly of the cold, and his mother took off her cloak and was about to wrap it around him when he es sprang to his feet, crying: Be “There they are! there they are!” and ‘i four horses appeared at the distance of ) about half a mile, a powerful horse with a white face being in advance. “There they are, an’ Blazer’s ladin eried Daly, while his eyes flashed and his whole body trembled with delight. “Kape him together, Tim! That’s it! Ye tuk that hedge beautifully!” continued he, forgetting the distance that intervened between himself and the riders. In a few seconds the horses were at the field in. which Daly was standing, and Blazer cleared the fence we have before _. spoken of in fine style, but Oulahan was j y shot over his head like an arrow from a »” bow, and the other jockeys dashed by like a whirlwind, “Thunder and turf!” roared Daly, in a “rage, and he rushed over and picked up the whip which had fallen from Oula- han’s hand; and, snatching the rein from the grasp which the other still kept upon it, he vaulted-into the saddle and dashed after the others. He took the wall and ditch in a splendid flying leap, and ina ‘moment or two was up with the hind- most of the other jockeys. After going about half a mile farther, the jockeys turned to retrace their way toward the Curragh, and now began the real struggle for victory, They yelled and cursed like madmen, and plied their whips with fury; and the horses, catching the wild excitement which had taken possession of their riders, almost flew over the ground. Over hedges, ditches, fences, and walls they dashed; and Daly, forgetting his sickness-in his excitement, rode as well as he could have done if he had never known a day of illness. His eye blazed with delight at finding himself in the saddle once more, and he resorted to every trick and stratagem he knew in order to gain the victory. The pace was terrible, and ina short time two of the _ horses broke down, leaving Blazer and a _ strong roan horse called “Faugh-a-bal- lagh” to contest the race. The’ latter was handled by a jockey named Rooney, a man who had often ridden against Daly, and had defeated him on two or three oc- easions. Fauch-a-ballagh lea by about half a length, and, strive as he would, Daly could not gain an inch upon him. Both horses were covered with foam, and were panting fearfully from their great _ exertion, -. Faster and faster flew the horses, the last fence was reached, and Daly was de- _ spairing of success, when Faugh-a-ballagh stopped short and refused to leap for an instant, in spite of the furious cut which Rooney gave him, while Blazer flew over it like a deer, and in a few seconds after he crossed the score, a winner by twenty yards, amid the cheers of the assembled throng, who rushed forward and _ sur- rounded the successful horse in a dense crowd. Daly was swinging backward and for- \ ward in his saddle, as his horse plunged from side to side, amid the crowd, His hands had lost their hold upon the bridle, and were hanging listlessly by his side. His face was deathly pale, his mouth open, and his eyes fixed on vacancy. “It’s Jem Daly,” roared the crowd, and _then arose a loud cheer; but Daly did not Beene slightest token of acknowledg- ment, “Take him off his horse. He's hurt himself,” cried a voice. Several men rushed forwerd to lift Daly from his saddle, but as they touched him they started back in fear. “He's dead !” cried one of the foremost, and there was a moment of horror among the crowd, Then two or three less super- stitious than the rest, came forward, and, lifting Daly from his horse, carried him into the grand stand, where restoratives _ were applied, but in vain. Jem Daly had ridden his last race. The false strength _which the excitement had given him de- serted him the instant after he had taken e last leap, and he had died in the sad- , at the very moment of victory, Qur Mail Bag. [Questions on subjects of general interest only are dealt with in the “Mail Bag.” Medical or legal questions not answered. Good NrEws goes to press tio weeks in advance of date of publication, and there- fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks after we receive them. Communications intended for this colunin should be addressed Goop NEws “Mail Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.J dellaitineh thes opsaatid Amiring Reader (Bryan, Ohio).—1. Mr. Adams, better known. as Oliver Optic, resides 1n a suburb of Boston. 2 We have -published a number of short stories by Oliver Optic, also three serial sto- ries *‘Where He Got His Money” ran through three numbers; the same with ‘fhe Cave on the Island.” “Nothing But a Boy,” by Oliver Optic, commenced in No. 32 and ended in No. 47, making sixteen issues containing the story. We will send you the papers on receipt of price, 5c. each. 3. Edward 8. Ellis is not a nom de plume. He resides in Brook- lyn. Weare not at liberty to give the age of any author, It is too delicate a subject. 4. James OLis is at present residing in Maine. 5. No story by the author you inquire about. 6. You write a good business hand. S. I. E. (Pottstown, Pa.)—Some very interesting experiments can be performed with an ordinary horseshoe maguet such as you possess. Iron filings may be mixed with those of other metals, and taken out again by the magnet. A packet of mixed pins may be explored in a similar manner for the detection of iron pins. Mixed tinned brads and tacks may be assorted. Iron filings spread on a piece of card-board, and gently struck with a straw while the magnet is held beneath, will arrange themselves around the poles of the Magnet, and show the lines of magnetic force. With a_bat- tery anda small electro-magnet the range of ex- periments can be further extended. Young Florist (Washington, D. C.)--Ivy planted against the sound wall of a house is said to exclude dampness. Ifa wall is already damp, ivy planted against it will, when grown up, cause it to become dry, provided the brickwork is sound, and the dampness does not arise from moisture attracted upward from the foundation. Sometimes, when ivy is propagated from flowering branches, it will not adhere to a wall at all. The way tuo get over this difficulty is to cut it back to near the surface of the ground. The young wood which then forms takes hold, and clings immediately to almost any- thing. K. D. (Dover, N. H.)—All that is requisite in forming a collection of birds’ nests is to dry them properly, and to secure those of loose texture by a few stitches with a needle. To preserve the eggs, make a hole at the sharp end of the egg, and a smaller one at the larger end; blow the contents through the larger hole; dip a Camel’s-hair brush into.a solution of corrosive sublimate, and press it against the smaller end of the egg, so that some of the liquor may reach its interior; then shake the egg, and allow it todrip, Eggs are best kept in open card-boxes among chipped moss, or on cotton. W. A. T. (Syracuse, N. Y.)—We are afraid that you will have to trust to time for the expansion of your chest. By the dumb-bell exercise you are as- sisting nature. Rowing is also good for chest de- velopment. Take care, however, that you are not too Violent in these exercises. Plain ciet is best. Oatmeal, beans, peas, salmon, eggs, and beef are supposed to be the best foods for producing muscle; but the mere eating of food cannot do it. The mus- cles must be called into vigorous daily exercise, yet without, as we have-previously said, overdoing lt. ’ A. EF. (St. Paul, Minn.)—An engraving ink may be made by mixing coal-tar, 100 parts; Jampblack, 36; Prussian bine, 10; glycerine, 10. This ink may be used for lithography, chromo-lithography, au- tography, ete, A litho-printing ink may also be made by the following simple method: 'To the var- nish Gbtained by boiling linseed oil, as for printing ink, is added as much best calcined Paris black as can be ground up with it. For copper-plate print- ing, the Paris black is replaced by lampblack. S. B. (Baltimore, Md.)—Soprano is, of course, the higher—it is. in fact, the highest register of female voice. that is, a third lower than the soprano. Alto, on the other hand, is the highest singing voice of a male adult, the lowest of a boy or a woman, being in the latter the same as contralto. The alto or counter-tenor is not a natural voice, but a develop- ment of the falsetto. M. J. D. (Danville, T1l)—Male canaries have short, stout beaks, and flat heads, and are wide be- tween the eyes—the wider the better. The crown of the head of the females is rounder than that of the males. The female bird scarcely ever sings, and when she does her notes are weak. In _ select- ing acanary, itshould be borne in mind that the feet and legs of young birds are smooth and glossy, and their toe-nails are short; old birds have rough and scaly feet, with long toe-nails, D. B. F. (Fort Wayne, Ind.)—There is no doubt that the first really practical sewing machine was the invention of Elias Howe. There were several inventions, however, which preceded that of Howe. It is said that Thomas Saint patented one for boots and shoes in 1790. Several inventions are ascribed to Duncan, 1804; Adams and Dodge, American, 1818; T‘himonnier, French, 1834; and Walter Hunt 1834, Lowisa A, (Nashville, Tenn.)\—Manuscript re- spectfully declined. Please send full name and ad- dress, also postage, if you desire the manuscript re- turned. It is assumed that contributions unac- companied with stamped envelope to guarantee their return are not regarded by their writers as worth recovering, : J. EB. N. (Pawnee, Tl.)\—1. [We thank you very much for the long list of names sent us for sample copies. 2. The authors you inquire about may write for GOOD NEWS at some future time. 3. The answer last week to D. O. L., Memphis. Tenn., will give you a recipe for making invisible ink. J. A. F. (Easton, Pa.)—This column is free, as you will know by reading the following answers to your questions. 1. Handwriting fair, need more prac- tice. 2. Four feet eleven inches tall, and weight 95 ounids, is a good average for a boy 15 years old. 3. No premium on coins mentioned. C. L.D. (Lisle, N. Y.)—We were obliged to de- cline inserting your notice as it was too glaring an advertisement. We cannot insert, free, a notice wherein money is called for. It belongs to the ad- yorsleing columns, for which the charge is 50c. per ine, F. W. (Whitecastle, La.)\—1. No premium on dimes dated 1841. 2. The book is unknown to us. 3. The author is an ex-reporter who hashad consider- able detective experience, and most of the stories are founded on facts. L. G. B. (St. Leo, Flaj—1. Volume TV of Goop NEWS is now ready, price 85 cents. 2, We are not at liberty to give the full names and addresses of our authors. : Lillian P. (Parker City, Pa,)—1. No premium on the coin you write us about. 2. Yes, the answer was correct. : wee communications left over to be answered next The mezzo-soprano register is from A to F, | Ticklets BY CHARLES W. assent aarancinde The Sermon Too Short. New Pastor—“Did you hear your father say how he liked my sermon yesterday ?’ Little Johnny—‘He said it was too short.” “Well, I declare.” “Yes, sir. Pop hates to get waked up out of a sound sleep.” FOSTER. | The New Excuse. Johnny Jumpp—‘Goin' to the World’s Fair this year?” ; p Gutter Gus—‘‘Nope. Pop is so loaded up with soovoneer coins he can’t afford it.” Made an Impression. Father—‘Who is that young man who calls here so regularly ?”’ Mother—“Lhat’s young Mr. Bullion. Dora has wade an impression on him.” ; Little Johnny—‘Yes, indeed; there’s a big, white place on his shoulder.” A Long Ending. Little Dick—“‘Who's in the parlor?” Little Dot—‘*Mrs. Blank. She through her call for an hour yet.” “How do you know ?"” “I just heard her say ‘Well, I mus’ begoing.’” A Misfit. Little Miss De Fashion—“T am going to send these shoes right back. They are a miserable misfit.” Father—“ How?” Z : Little Miss De Fashion—“‘They is a mile too big. They don’t pinch a bit.” A Philosophical Mind. Little Boy—‘The hens out West must be awful little.” : Mamma—‘Why so ?”’ ‘ Little Boy—“Uncle John says he’s seen hail- , stones there as large as hen’s eggs.” All at Sea. Old Gentleman—‘‘Been over to Lurope, eh ? Did the vessel you traveled on make good time?” : Little Boy—“I couldn't tell. any telegraph poles.” I think won't get There weren't A Serious Lack. r Little Girl (at English opera) —“‘What are they sayin’, mamma ?”’ Mamma—“I don’t know, dear. libretto.” I haven’t a An Observing Youth, First Little Boy (at school)—“Mamma didn't put up half enough lunch to-day.” i Second Little Boy—“Mebby she waited till after breakfast, an’ hadn’t much appetite.” Another Mystery Solved. Father (after a loug search)—“Well, here it is- I wonder why one always fiuds a thing in the last place one hunts for it?” Bright Boy—“I guess it’s ‘cause after folks finds it they stops hunting.” A Kindly Way. Miss Fuzzie—‘I want to break my engage- ment with Mr. Sappie, but I don’t know how to | do it without driving the poer fellow to sui- vide.” rs little Brother—“Why don’t you let him see you in curl-papers ?” 7 A Young Financier. Little Johuny—“You’re workin’ for a prize this term, ain't you?’ ; : Bright Boy—‘‘ Yes, and I think I'll get it.” “If you do, I'll give you fifty cents for it.” “What for?” “Pop said he'd give mea dollar if I brought home a prize, and I'll give you half.” —_-9e>___—_- THE LARGEST MILLS IN THE WORLD, The largest flour mill in the world is the Pittsburg Flour Mill. That mill con- verts into flour over 32,000 bushels of wheat per day, and its output would feed two citiesas large as New York. The largest production of flouris at Minne- apolis, Minn., which is a town of mills, and where recently one week’s output was 83,200 barrels of flour. The cotton-thread mills of J. and P, Coats, at Paisley, Scotland, have of late years assumed gigantic proportions, and employ 10,000 men between them. The largest lumber mill is located at Port Blakeley, Washington, the machin- ery occupying a building 102 feet by 448 feet, and capable of cutting between 500,000 and 600,000 laths per day. In 1890 this mill turned out 68,000,000 feet of lumber, 28,000,000 laths, besides a large amount of other stock. As to rolling mills, the largest are those in connection with Krupp’s im- mense works at Essen, in Germany, Mere occupy more than 500 acres of and. The largest cotton mill is stated to be located at Kranholm, Russia. It con- tains 340,000 spindles and 22,000 looms, requiring 6,000 horse power, and giving A Paint-Brush Duel. > RECENT writer, describing the ? pranks of the French art students, 3, ~ tells some amusing anecdotes, the “ greater part of which however, relate to tricks and practical jokes of a familiar kind. A few are nove! and char- acteristic. _ The most curious of these describes an initiatory ordeal, which the two newest comers of a class are sometimes com- pelled to undergo by their fellow-stu- dents ofthe Beaux-Arts. It is a painter’s duel, in which neither combatant, no matter how small his experience nor how great his nervousness, need fear a fatal termination. The reluctant duelists are provided with tall stools, and seated opposite one another at arm’s-length. They wear old clothes, and in the hand of each is placed a large paint-brush charged with color, the one being Gipped in Prussian blue, the strongest and most vivid of azure tints, and the other in carmine lake, which is a fine, rich crimson. The word is then given, and the two men begin to daub. Being usually strangers to one another, and without the least cause of quarrel, they commonly show at first a great deal of caution and consideration, not te say timidity, and do not maxe much effort to inflict conspicu- ous streaks, or to touch each other’s face. Soon, however, one or other gets a smear which he does not like, and at- tempts to retaliate upon his opponent. Then the contest waxes warm. The spec- tators hasten to take sides, and urge on their favorites with shouts, cheers, and encouraging cries. The tall stools totter; the wet brushes spatter; the antagonists daub more and more fiercely and furi- ously, until frequently men, stools, and all go down together ina struggling red and blue heap upon the floor. The duelists are then assisted to their feet, shake hands, laugh at each other’s appearance, and adjourn to the lavatory, where they good-naturedly help each other to remove the tracesvof the conflict. It speaks well for the temper and good comradeship of the students thatso rough a kind of fun ends where it begins, in the mock duel, and never, it is said, leads to resentment or ill-will. —__—_.§— 6-@————__—_ PECULIARITIES OF GOLD. Gold is so very tenacious that a piece of it drawn into wire one-twenieth of an inch in diameter will sustain a weight of five hundred pounds without breaking. Its malleability is so great that a single grain may be divided into 2,000,000 parts, and a cubic inch into 9,523,809,523 parts, each of which may be distinctly seen by the naked eye. Eight ounces of this won- derful metal would gild a silver wire of sufficient length to extend entirely around the globe. Gold is not affected by air or water, and does not rust or tarnish; it is not acted on by oxygen or sulphur at any temperature, nor is it dissolved by any of the ordinary acids. A Natural Food. Conditions of the system arise when ordinary foods cease to build flesh— there is urgent need of arrest- ing waste—assistance must come quickly, from natural food source. Scott's Emulsion is a condensation of the. life of all foods—it is cod-liver oil reinforced, made easy of digestion, and almost as palatable as milk. Prepared by Scott & Bowne, N. Y. All druggists. employment to 7,000 operatives. this Special Offer: Send , Photograph or any picture of yourself or any member For 30 Days. To introduceour CRAYON PORTRAITS we m us a Cabinet Picture ; of your family, living or dead, and we will make you a CRAYON PORTRAIT FREE OF CHARGE, provided you exhibit it to your friends asa sample of our work and use your influence in securing us futare orders. Place name and . address on back of picture and it will be neturned in perfect order. We make ‘any change in picture you wish not in..-fering wit likeness. Refer to any ~ . bankin Chicago. Address THE CRESCENT CRAYON CO., Opposite New German Theatre, CHICAGO, ILL. P.S.—We will forfeit$100 to any one sending us photo and notreceiving crayon picture FREE as per this offer, This offer isbonafide — / x eee ae ee ene SR teen = a Pats : ~ c Si Dp ae eae eee 2512 GOoondD NEWS. Puzzle Corner. od { Original contributions solicited. Please do not send puzzles containing obsolete words. Address ‘Puz- zie Vditor,” Goop News, P O. Box 2734, New York City.] ——_+--—— No. 1—DIAMOND. A letter. An epoch. . To form letters with a pen. . The goddess or revenge. A vowel. CU Sb DON RODRIGO. No. 2—NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Iam composed of 14 letters. My 10, 12, 11, 3 is crippled. My 1), 9, 6, 7,5, 14 is a girl’s name My 1, 5. 2, 14 is a current. My 13, 4, 9,8 is an insect. My whole is a noted divine. Cc, O. No. 3—ONE-LETTER PUZZLE. One letter from sea, One letter from lea, And then one letter froin salve, Oue letter froin high, One letter from sigh, And an author you will have, WILLIE. No, 4—BEHEADING. This world is full of final, The primal made it so. Now, if you’re good at puzzles, The answer you will know. E. AH. MITCHELL. No. 5—WoRD SQUARE. 1. A color. 2. Aruler in a certain country. 3. Partly open. 4, A building. H. E. B. No. 6—THE GRAZIER. A grazier bought a certain number of oxen for $240, and after losing three, sold the re- ainder for $8 a head more than cost, gaining $59. How many were bought ? No, 7,—CHARADE. My jirst’s a conveyance ; C 4 ENG Udy 4 i be ; & Se | MRE St20), ©) Wi) [pe = . - en, ™ aa bay ve A MAD DOG SCARE; AND THE DOG THAT CAUSED THE TROUBLE. My last is a snare; No. 1— N Now,look in the center, . BE And I shall be there. BEG My total unite, and you'll not fail to see NEGLECT That a place of importance I really shall be. EVER A, RIDDLE. JERE TREE No, 8—LOGOGRIPH. No. 2— ; My first 1s often seen in the skies at night; | 1 Neighbor. behead, and I am a sticky substance; reverse, | “% 3— ; and Tam an animal; behead agaip, and Iam a Hill, ill, 1. preposition. G. SMITH. No. 4— ACID ’ a} No. 9—Cross-WORD ENIGMA, y + i q Tam in light, but notin dark: DENT I ain in field, but not in park; No. 5— Tam in England, but not in Wales; S8quam. I am in cats, but not in tails; No. 6— IT aim in round, but not in square; Tain in apple, but not in pow T am in snare, but not in hare. These letters will, when placed aright, The name of a President bring to sight, Man, 3 days; boy, 6 days. The boy received one-third of the wages, and the man two-thirds. — PUZZLE SOLVERS. Robert Salisbury, Charles Smythe, Elias FE. C. H. Katterhenry, and Abraham Wolodarsky. Short Stops. STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER.—The sleeve. THE knitting machine was invented by Hooton in 1776. THERE is a wonderful natural bridge at Rock- bridge, Virginia. Tu giraffe and armadillo are voiceless, with no vocal chords. THERD are over 13,000 varieties of postage stamps in the world. AN old orange peddlar in Amsterdam has died and left his heirs $80,000. THE swan lives longer than any other bird, Some have died 300 years old. Do not step on a train when in motion. dangerous, even in a ba)l-room. SoME naturalists assert that a healthy swal- low will devour 6,000 flies every day. THE plauets Venus and Mars most nearly re- semble the earth in climatic conditions. IN Colorado are many wonderful canons, some of which are a wile or more in depth. It is No one can breathe at a greater height than seven miles from the earth. AN old lady in Beverly, Mo., is said to haye slept in the same corded bed every night for ninety years. SoME stars are believed to be so far away that 2,000,000 years are required tor their light to reach the earth. _TELTHING is an important crisis in the life of lion cubs, and a large number vf the young die during that period. ; _ ALL traces of mud can easily be removed from black clothes by rubbing the spots with a raw potato cut in half. Fish in the Royal Aquarium in St. Peters- burg are still alive after having been on ex- hibition for wore than 150 years. THE organs Of smell in the turkey and vul- ture are so delicate that they can scent their food for a distance of forty miles. A BILL bas been introduced in the Pennsyl- vania Legislature making it a misdemeanor to kill any bird except while on the wing. FIVE million yards of insulated wire will be required for the distribution of current to the 92,000 lamps which are to light up the World’s Fair. GLOVES of chicken-skin were in vogue in the early part of the seventeenth century. These were used at night to give the hand whiteness and delicacy. OuT of 700 convicts in the State prisons of New York, according to a journal devoted to total abstinence, 600 were incarcerated there through the influence of liquors. 1 AS the ear is a very delicate organ, it should be treated with great caution. About the only safe way to wash itis with water, and only as far as a towel wrapped around the finger can reach, THE King of Dahomey is said to have 250 wives; the Sultan of Turkey, 300; the Shahof Persia, 400; the King of Siam, 600; the King of Ashantee, 3,000; and the Emperor of Morocco, about 6,000. ENGLISH ignorance of America did not begin with this generation. Goldsmith’s description of Niagara Falls includes the statement that “some Indians in their canoes, as it is said, have ventured down it in safety.” A CHEMIST has invented an automatic sensi- tive paint, which is a bright yellow at the or- dinary temperature and a bright red at 220 de- grees. Itreturns to its original color on cool- ing, and may be heated with the same effect over and over. Ir has been figured out that Jay Gould was rich enough to give every man, woman, and child in the United States a gold dollar, and then have left more money than he could ever hope to spend. The idea of doing this, how- ever, probably never suggested itself seriously ; to Mr. Gould. . A SPANISH Oak, eight feet in diameter at the base, was cut down near Georgetown, Del., not long since, and fromit was squared a stick of timber sixty feet long and two feet square from end toend. Fourteen mules and a yoke of oxen were required to haul it to the railroad at Georgetown. Born the Kurds and the Cossacks believe that Araratis guarded by an unearthly being, and that no man can ascend the peak and live. They have a somewhat contrary opinion, how- ever, as to what kind of spirits are on guard,. the former claiming that the devil is guard supreme, the latter that the angels are on watch. Good News Binder Price 50 Cents. Answers the purpose of a bound volume. Holding fifty-two copies comfortably. Tt is, without doubt, the finest binder ever offered even for double the price we ask, and is indispens- able to those who are keeping their papers, as it not only preserves GOOD NEws for future reference, and from being lost, but keeps them clean, and in good order. Itis both useful and ornamental. Tt* has a durable black embossed cover with flexible back, and a gold stamp title on the outside cover, It opens flat as any book, and each week’s paper can be inserted as soon as received. Full : ares cleans for inserting the paper accompany each inder. We will send the GooD NrEws binder, and a pack- _ age of binder pins, postpaid, to any address on re- cript of 50 cents. ; $22. 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Pr.fusely illustrated: Explains the mode of training, treatment of accidents, gymnastic exercises of the arms, umb-bells, Indian clubs, trapeze, horizontal bar, an¢\ all sorts of tricks and feats of gymnastics. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent post paid, upon receipt uf price, 10 cents, by the publishers, STREET & SMITH, 31 Rose Street, New York. 4 all newspa New York and Brooklyn. P.8.—We will for Organs 27 steht. = Be eerie, es . . . Catlg sree. Dan GOOD NEWS AT THE BAT. Official League Ball an@ Three Months’ Subscrip- tion to Goop NEWS will be sent to all who will send us the price of the flicianl League Ball, 1.50. ‘Whe ball is manu- actured by Spalding # Bros., and is the same as used by the professional clubs. By sendivg us the price of the ball, $1.50, ou will receive GOOD = NEWS free for three months and the Official League Ball, Address SUBSCRIPTION DEPARIMENT, GOOD NEws, 29 Rose Street, New York. _ pieces Cae MITCHELL'S a ae DEFENSE, Oy Prot. CHARLEY MITCHELL, Price 10 Cents. tor sale by all news- dealers or will be sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, 10 cents, by the publishers. Srreet & SMITH, 29 to 31 Rose st., N. Y. pitas opatis fe, Se .$. DENISON, Publisher, Chicago. PLAYS GRAYON PORTRAITS! If you will send = tintype of yourself, or we will make you one of our enlarged life-like CRAYON absolutely free of charge. ' our artist'c portraits in your vicinity. of photo, and send same to u within oes Deas 30 — + phen e ember our family, living or dead, rear tit RTRAIT This offer is made to introduce Put your name 2nd address back 8. (Kstablished in 1876.) References: 1 er publishers, Banks, and Express Companies of eit $100 to anyone sending ns photo, and not re ceiving crayon picture Free of charge. Address all letters to TANQUEREY PORTRAIT SOCIETY, 741 DeKalb Ave.. Brooklyn, Ne Ve ° Bound Volumes of Good News, Vol. IV.—(Nos. 79 to 104.) We have issued this volume, bound im an attrac tive heavy paper cover. The papers are cut and trimmed and bound with as much care as an ex- pensive cloth binding, and the price is Eighty- five cents. ‘Lhis volume contains the conclusion of all the stories not finished in Vol. ITI, and the following complete serials. CHASED THROUGH NORWAY, by Jas. Otis. FRANK HUNTER’S PERIL, by Horatio ger, Jr. $1,000 REWARD, by Edward S, Ellis. THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY, by Brace-« bridge Hemyng. BOB PORTER AT LAKEVIEW ACADEMY, by Walter Morris. JACK THE INVENTOR, by Edward Strate- meyer. All TOLDMER also contain the usual assortment of short stories, Short Talks With the Boys, useful and instructive information, ete. Vol. Ul.—(Nos. 53 to 78.) Bound similar to Volume I'V., price Eighty fivé cents, contains the conclusion of all stories not Susshed in Volume II, and the following complete serials: BEACH BOY JOE, by Lieut. Jas. K. Orton. THE SIGNALMAN’S BOYS, by Chas. Ber-— rd. PETER POTTER’S PILGRIMAGE, by Jack. — BOYS WILL BE BOYS. by J. F. Trowbridge. DAN THE DETECTIVE, by Horatio Alger, Ir. CANOE AND CAMP-FIRE, by W. B. Lawson. Vol. Il.—(Nos. 27 to 52.) The papers in this volume are cut and trimmed similar to our Vol. 3. The price is one dollar. The supply is very nearly exhausted. Volume 2 contains the following complete serial stories: BET tEN THE LINES, by Jas. K. Orton, JIM RIDLEY’S LUCK, by Max Adeler. NOTHING BUT A BOY, by Oliver Optic. WHITE HORSE FRED, by Harry Castle- SE mon. | IIFTING WINDS, . B, Lawson. LIEUT. SARELS LOCK, by Lieut. Louns= erry. VoLuME ONE is entirely out of print. . Address STREET & SMITH, 81 Rose street, New York. é Be snre and nse '*Mirs. Winsle MOTHERS Sesthicesiewe "sg ee ig