By ef us ce, in ith ide k's ‘ull ich , the ij I t f ie SNARE eNO OR TBET CA 5S SOPRA ht Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1895, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the oy Araie tiie of Congress, Washington, D. C. Entered as Second-class Matter at the Helo York, N.Y., Post-Ofice. MoO ae ree ee ee eee ete neal s Rel tet Nett at settee te ee tert Vol. 11. srammasums Paneer, New York, ‘September 4 1805. Supsctinton Price, No, 280, za fbtauamemmanesstena ene eb betottee “y = g Sehieeal NOW BEGAN A DESPERATE STRUGGLE, EACH STRIVING TO TEAR THE OTHER’S THROAT. __ THE FIGHTING LADS OF DEVON; The Mystery of Giles Montford and Sydney Rookwood. A TALE OF THE GREAT SPANISH ARMADA. 2 Ms # wet lhi BY ALFRED ARMITAGE, Author of “With Crusader and Saracen,” “In the Days of the Gladiators,’ and “Loyal to Napoleon.” f “THE FIGHTING Laps OF DEVDN”’ was commenced in No. 278. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. ) recensione CHAPTER VII. | to Sinbad, Master Giles had all he could do | to keep his seat. He knew that a fall from the madly galloping horse would seal his | fate, and he held tight to the bridle with / both hands, at the same time leaning forward IN WHICH GILES IS THROWN UNEXPECTEDLY | INTO THE PRESENCE OF A NOBLE EARL. eS Dy ay ITH a pair of bony hands gripping | as much as possible in hopes of breaking his ate > | ,? “3 THERE WAS A SUDDEN SHOUT OVERHEAD, AND STEPHEN TRENT LEAPED From THE “\f\J/o bis throat, and a determined foe| enemy’s grip. _ " cei clinging to his back pretty much ) But the Spaniard was firmly seated behind SMOKE AND FLAMES INTO THE ROADWAY. -~2)" asthe Old Man of t ; e Sea clung’ the saddle, and was bending all his energies wie at tec et ac aati 4466 to suffocating the lad. He bade fair to suc- ceed, and when Giles could no longer endure the painful gasping for breath, he turned partly around inthe saddle, let go of the CHOI 6 Jarl of Essex and Wilkins. Though the time seemed very long to ‘the | . | ed, and rode rapidly up the hill between the |lad the runaway horse had really carried bridle with one hand, and took a tight grip | him less than a mile. The party soon saw the of the Spaniard’s throat. Giles had great strength in his fingers, and he soon compelled his foe to make use of his hands in self-defense. Now began a desper- | dark bulk of thé hay-rick ahead, and as they drew nearer they were delighted to hear an- gry voices, and the occasional clash of steel. Suddenly a yellow light shone out of the ate struggle, each striving to tear the other’s | gloom, and an instant later flames and sparks throat, snarling and gasping, twisting and | were leaping toward the sky. swaying in the saddle, while the frightened | steed plunged furiously on through the night | fired the rick.’’ with clatter of hoofs and steaming breath. A minute seemed an hour to the lad. | He spurred on, followed by his companions, He} and as they came within ten yards of the saw hedges and trees skim by him in a dusky | burning rick three mounted men were seen blur; he felt a cold spattering of water as the | to ride furiously up the hill, each leading a horse tore across a wayside stream, and he|riderless horse by the bridle. fancied he heard ashout from some point ahead. Then, with a fearful curse, the Spaniard | had him tighter than ever by the throat, and was trying hard to drag him from the saddle. Giles could no longer breathe. In de- speration he let go of the bridle, and turned on his foe with both hands. In vain he strug gled. him. Lights flashed before his eyes. Next there were asudden shouting and clamor roundabout, a sharp jerk, and out of the saddle shot the lad and his antagonist. Giles lay still for an instant, his face pressed against damp grass, Then he recovered from the stunning shock, and pulled himself diz- zily to his feet. The first thing he saw was the Spaniard, clearly unhurt, running fleetly after the gal- loping steed. Giles started in pursuit with a shout, but quickly fell over from weakness. When he rose again horse and man had van- ished in the gloom. A commotion to the left now caused Giles | to turn in that direction, and he saw that he | shire of your service at the siege of Zutphen was standing at a point where two roads crossed. Twenty yards ahead was a lonely little inn—as its swinging signboard showed —and from here three or four loudly talking men were advancing with lanterns. In the door-way behind them a maid-servant was screaming shrilly. The party quickly came up to Giles. Fore- most was a tall man wrapped in a long cloak, and with a drawn sword in his hand. What could be seen of his face showed that he was young and handsome, and of high estate. He was attended by a soldierly man who was evidently his servant, and with these two were the red-faced inn-keeper and a loutish stable-lad. ‘*Odd’s Fish! ’tisa mere youth,’’ cried tha gentleman with the sword. ‘‘Methinks I have seen his face somewhere. What do you mean, young sir, by waking the peaceful quiet of the night in this fashion? And at just the time when I was about to retire! Who was your ‘friend? Odd’s Zooks! I had hoped tor a brush with a fleeing Spaniard.’’ ‘*You would not have been disappointed had you come a little sooner, replied Giles. ‘‘The knave was a Spaniard, and I have luckily escaped from him with my life.’’ At this the stranger’s face blazed with anger and chagrin. *‘*You have had an adventure, then,’’ he cried, ‘‘Let us hear it quickly, Master Mont- ford, and wé will pursue this rogue.’’ ‘*You know my name?’’ exclaimed Giles, in astonishment. ‘‘ Ah, and I know yours as well——”’ The stranger made a gesture of silence, and led Giles a few feet to one side. ‘*f thought I was fairly well disguised,’’ he muttered. ‘‘Now who am [?’’ ‘*Robert Devereaux, Earl of Hssex,’’ Giles whispered. ‘*Right, lad. I see you have not forgotten our meeting in London three years ago. Truly we have strangely renewed our ac- quaintance. But do not speak my name open- ly, for I have just finished a secret errand in this part of the country, and am speeding back to town. And now for your advent- ure.’’ From what Giles knew of his companion he did not hesitate to tell the whole. story, and even to hint at the purport of the mes- sage he was bearing. ‘And so you see [ am in sore straits,’’ he concluded. ‘‘Without the delay of a moment I should press on to London, and yet it wrings my heart to leave Stephen Trent to his fate. He is likely dead, but Iam by no means sure of it.’’ ‘*You still have the letter?’ ‘*Yes, my lord,’’ Giles answered, feeling in his, bosom for the precious parchment. ‘*Good!’’ cried the Earl. ‘‘It is useless to pursue the Spaniard, for by this time he has overtaken the horse. But we will go back for your trusty man, and I shall answer for the consequences of the delay. You need a mount, though. And your sword—where is it??? ‘*War back,’’ replied Giles. ‘‘I don’t know exactly where I lost it.’’ ‘*A horse and a blade, my good fellow,’’ cried the earl, turning to the inn-keeper, ‘tand lose not a moment. Bring out our two steeds, Wilkins,’’ he added to his servant. Giles took advantage of the brief wait to brush the dirt from his clothes, and to ascer- bi tain that he was none the worse for his strug- gle except for a few bruises. The inn- keeper produced a fairly good animal and a blade that looked as though it might,have seen serv- ice on Bosworth field. Giles hurriedly mount- He could not loosen the tightening | grip, and the agonies of suffocation seized | » 1 : One of the animals broke loose, and turned | aside into the moor. Seeing this the sharp- witted Wilkins clattered in pursuit. The earl }and Giles reined up close to the rick, and looked anxiously about for the missing man. There was asudden shout overhead, and Stephen Trent leaped from the smoke and | flames into the roadway. ‘‘Just in time,’’ he cried, as he warmly wrung Giles’ hand. ‘‘The scurvy knaves were ; too many for me, so I made a dash for the rick and got on top. There I showed them a sword point from all sides, and as they dared not climb up they put a match to the hay. Luckily it was too damp to burn well, else you would have found me roasted or stabbed. But how did you escape, Master Giles, and | who are your trusty friends?’ Giles briefly related his adventure, and then the earl very affably introduced himself. ‘*T have heard good reports of your doings in Holland under Sir Richard Edgcumbe,’’ he said. ‘‘It is a pleasure to have done you a service, my trusty fellow.”’ ‘-And mine a greater one, my lord,’’ re- plied Trent. ‘‘It is a common talk in Devon- two years ago.” ‘*Let us hope we may fight the Spaniards together ere long,’’ the earl answered. ‘‘ Ah, here comes Wilkins. He hath a mount to re- place the one you have lost.’’ At that moment the servant rode up with the captured horse, ‘*It was an easy chase,’’? he said. ‘‘The Spaniards cannot be far away. , Are we to pursue?’’ The earl shook his head. ‘‘It would be rarely to my liking,’’ he replied, ‘‘but we dare not losea moment. The knave who escaped us yonder by the inn will doubtless ride straight for London, and Master Mont- ford must beat him there with the letter.’’ ‘*Ay, that’s right,’’? exclaimed Trent. ‘‘It must be hot haste by night and day it we would outwit the rascal.’’ ‘*A bed anda supper await ine at the inu,’’ said the earl, ‘‘but they may wait in vain. I have chosen to accompany you to London, my good friends, since perchance you might tumble into other scrapes. And once the town be reached my presence will hasten the delivery of your letter.’’ ‘*Have a look at the carrion lying yonder in the road,’’ he added, to the servant. ‘*They may have papers about them,”’ Wilkins climbed out of the saddle and in- spected the clothing of the two dead Span- iards. ‘‘Here is a good supply of gold-pieces, my lord,’’? he announced, ‘‘but there is naught else to be found.”’ ‘*Don’t touch the dirty money,’’ said the earl. ‘‘Leave it for the wretched peasants who prow! about the moors.’’ ‘*‘Can De Rica be one of the two?’’ ex- claimed Giles, as Wilkins climbed into the saddle. ‘*He is one of the living,’’ Trent muttered, grimly. ‘‘He was the self-same knave who stayed to thrust with me when the other two ran at you, Master Giles. I would have pricked his ribs nicely had not his comrades returned in haste.’’ ‘*We may tarry no longer,’’ broke in the earl. ‘‘Now for London.”’ He put spurs to his horse, and led the way down the hill ona brisk trot, leaving the blazing hay-rick to illumine the desolate moor for many yards around. The clouds were now breaking, and there was a promise of fair weather in the blinking moon, and in the keen air that blew from the west. CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH GILES AND STEPHEN TRENT MAKE A BRIEF STAY IN LONDON. BRIEF halt was made at the inn, where the earl paid for the bed and supper that he did not want, and ~ Giles bargained for the host’s horse and blade. A reasonable sum was quickly fixed upon, and he paid it out of the purse Sir Richard had given bim. Then the party rode on in haste, and reached Exeter just as the town folks were taking down their shutters. Here they stopped only long enough to get a supply of provis- ions, and they ate breakfast in the saddle as they rode over the uplands of éastern Devon- shire. All day they spurred on unflaggingly, and the tedium of the ride was relieved by the bright wit and sallies of the young Earl of Essex. He’was not yet twenty years of age, a d to hear him talk, and to note his band- some face and courtly manners, made it easy for his companions to understand why the ‘*Faster, faster,’’ cried Giles. ‘‘They have | NEWS. youthful nobleman was such a favorite with Klizabeth and her courtiers. At twilight the party reached Stalbridge, where the earl’s influence enabled them to speedily exchange their jaded horses for fresh ones. They pushed on through the night, and at five o’clock in the morning they clattered down the high street of Salisbury and pulled up at the Royal Arms Inn, under the shadow of the gray old cathedral. They were badly exhausted, and had ac- complished a feat of riding that was almost | withouta parallel in those days. As the Span- |} iard was no doubt far out-distanced by this time, and as, moreover, he would not dare to travel by the direct and frequented roads, the ear] spoke in favor of a rest. His companions were of the same mind, and after a hearty meal they went snugly to bed. They rose and breakfasted at noon-day and pushed on until near midnight, when they halted for a couple of hours at the vil- lage of Basingstoke to refresh themselves and steeds. Then off again through the clear and starry night, and owing to bad roads in Surrey the sun was up when they rode through Kings- | ton-on-Thames. The villages began to be close together, and the roads waked up to busy travel, and at last Southwark was seen in the distance; and beyond it a gleam of the river, and the dome of Saint Paul’s, and | the crowded roofs of the great city. Soon the little party were riding across | London Bridge, with its row of tall, gabled houses on each side. At one of the openings they instinctively pulled up a moment to look toward the Tower pool, which was crowded with shipping of pretty nearly every nation- ality except Spain. The same thought entered the mind of each. Was the disguised Spanish ; Ship still lying in yonder anchorage, and had | they arrived in time to frustrate its purpose? | The stoppage was but brief, and next they | rode upward through narrow and dirty lanes to the bustling street called Chepe. Here they forced their way along with difficulty—for it was close to the hour of noon—and after rid- ing around two sides of Saint Paul’s cathe- dral they came to Fleet street, and thence to Temple Bar. ‘*I could have led you a straighter course than this, my lord,’’ said Giles, smiling. ‘*‘T doubt it not, Master Montford,’’ replied the earl, ‘‘but there is wisdom in this appa- rent. loss of time. The direct way from Lon- ‘don Bridge would have brought us bya neighborhood where Spanish spies are said to lurk.’’ The party were now riding under Temple Bar, and Giles was about to offer an apology for his thoughtless remark when the earl checked his horse, and leaned over the saddle to speak to a soldier who was on the foot- way, and with whom he plainly had an ac- quaintance, “Do you know aught of her majesty’s movements to-day?’’ he asked, in a whisper. ‘*The queen arrived at Saint James’ Palace trom Chelsea an hour ago,’’ the man audibly replied. ‘‘She is now there with her advisers, my lord,’’ The earl turned to his companions with a meaning smile as he led them on at a trot. They passed up the Strand—by the earl’s own residence, Essex House—and so on through the luxurious part of the town to the grim palace of Saint James. It was guarded by a number of soldiers wearing steel breast- plates and helmets, and richly dressed people were passing in and out. The weary travelers dismounted, and the horses were given in charge of Wilkins. Giles and Trent followed their conductor into the palace, passing readily by the guards. With the impulsiveness and precipitancy for which he was noted the earl pushed on with his com- panions into a large room that contained a number of distinguished-looking people. The entry of the three dusty and travel- worn figures caused lively astonishment. There was a hum of voices, and every eye turned to the new arrivals. On some faces could be read anger and indignation. Giles was bewildered by the glitter and sheen of court attire, by the profusion of jeweled swords, by the display of rings, and gold snuff-boxes, and silver buckles. He saw the earl greeting various acquaintances, and then, as the courtiers fell a little apart, his heart beat with excitement when he espied Elizabeth at the farther end of the room. The queen was dressed most gorgeously— silken robes, prodigious ruff, and powdered hair; but her sallow and wrinkled face had a sour aspect, and she looked as vain asa peacock, The earl tapped Giles and Trent on the shoulders, and led them through the door of a smaller apartment, whence they could see plainly into the audience-room. ‘*You are fortunate in finding Admiral Lord Howard here,’’ he said to Giles. ‘‘He will grant you an audience shortly. What think you of the scene yonder?’’ ‘*Tt is very fine and pleasing to the eye,’’ tiles answered, ‘‘but such a life would not suit. me. I prefer the free air of the moors.”’ ‘*Yet beneath the glitter and powder there is plenty of sterner stuff, my lord,’’ said Trent. ‘‘An old soldier like myself learns not to pass a hasty judgment on appearances. ’’ ‘'That is well said,’’ replied the earl, with an approving smile. ‘‘There are men of wis- dom and valorous deeds here, Those two just passing quickly are Admiral Lord Howard and Sir Francis Walsingham. The latter, as you know, is her majesty’s favorite minister. And yonder in the corner stand two of her advisers—the Earl of Burleigh and Sir Thomas Howard.’’ ‘‘Unless my eyes deceive me I see the Earl of Leicester,’’ said Trent, ‘‘under whom you fought in Holland, my lord. He hatha sad and worn look.”’ ‘“‘He still grieves for the death of his friend, Sir Philip Sydney,’’ replied the ‘earl. ‘*But look,’’ he added, in an eager. tone. ‘*See you the courtly and handsome gentle- man behind Leicester? It is Sir Walter Raleigh, who has served in France, Holland, Ireland, and North America, besides found- ing a colony in Virginia. He is now come up from Cornwall, where he hath command of a part of the queen’s army.’’ As the earl spoke Sir Francis Walsingham and Lord Howard suddenly entered the room, and closed the door behind them. They greeted Giles affably, and when he had de- livered the letter they opened and read it to- gether. After a brief Whispered conference Sir Francis hastened away, and the admiral questioned Giles and Trent closely about their strange adventures at Mount Edgcumbe and on the way to London, ‘“You have done well, gentlemen,’’ was his only comment. ‘‘Beassured that faithful service always brings its reward. You are doubtless in want of rest and food, and I will have your needs seen to at once. Kindly re- main here, my Lord Essex. I wish a word with you.’’ Giles and Trent parted from the earl with an exchange of good wishes, and followed Lord Howard toa side door of the palace, where they were given in charge of an officer of the Royal Guard. He took them to a house hard by in Saint James street, which was evidently kept for the use of retainers and guests of the court. Here the hungry and weary travelers were given a sumptuous meal and then assigned to separate sleeping-roonis. Giles partially undressed, and he had hard- ly thrown himself on the couch when he sank into a deep slumber. It seemed but a short time until he was awakened by a pull at his arm. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and saw a servant in the room with a light. ‘*What hour is it?’’ he asked. have I slept?’’ ‘‘Since two o’clock,’’ replied the man, ‘fand it is now past midnight. The queen’s minister waits on you below.’’ This piece of news brought Giles to his feet in a hurry. He pulled on\his cloak, took his cap in his hand, and followed the servant to a front room on the first floor. Here a feebly burning lamp showed him Sir Francis Wal- singham and Stephen Trent. Through the window a group of horses could be seen wait- ing in the gloomy street. The queen’s minister seemed to be ina very sober and gloomy mood. He handed Giles two letters, from each of which dan- gled a couple of imposing seals. , ‘‘Her majesty is graciously pleased to thank you and your trusty companion for your services, Master Montford,’’ he said, ‘‘and asa proof of her esteem she entrusts you with these letters. I am bidden to tell you to ride with all haste and urgency for Plym- outh. This letter you will deliver first, and without a moment’s delay. It is toSir Fran- cis Drake, now commanding the queen’s fleet in Plymouth harbor, and while 1t favorably recommends your services to him, it also treats of a most important private matter. ‘“The second letter is to Sir Richard Edg- cumbe, and treats of affairs of State. There is good reason to believe that you run no dan- ger of being molested in the neighborhood which proved so perilous on your way here. An escort is provided to take you beyond the town. You will start at once.”’ Giles was strongly tempted to ask news concerning the Spanish vessel, but the minis- ter’s chilly demeanor restrained him. He and Trent followed Sir Francis from the house. Beyond the footway half a dozen mounted soldiers were drawn up like pieces of statu- ary, and close by a servant was holding the steeds on which the messengers had ridden to London. Sir Francis bowed stiffly and vanished in the direction of the palace. Giles and his companion quickly mounted, and no sooner were they in the saddle than the officer in command of the escort gave the word to start. On a brisk trot the little cavalcade rode east- ward along Pall Mall. ; ‘How long CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH MASTER TOMEWELL’S LITTLE RE- PAST IS INTERRUPTED. VY aR NLY one incident worth noting oc- ¢ €3) curred on the way through the city. As the horsemen were cantering by “<4” Essex House the earl hastened out and leaned upon a steed that Wilkins was holding in readiness by the door. He was about to spur westward when he caught sight of Giles and Trent and nodde to them. Then, on a sudden impulse, he urged his horse alongside the lad’s. “Off again for Plymouth, are you?’’ he whispered. ‘‘You have had but a brief stay in London. Did Sir Francis tell you the rf port of the letter you are bearing to Drake! Giles shook his head. ‘‘T am to deliver it in haste. all.’’ That was — — eS re GOOD NEWS. “‘T’]] warrant,’’ replied the earl, with a | grim smile. ‘‘It i§ nothing less than the | Queen’s countermand on the expedition | which Drake was about to undertake against the Spanish ports. It is like her majesty. She blows hot one moment, and cool the next. To-day she is all for war; to morrow for peace. Odd’s Fish! I don’t wonder Sir Fran- cis Walsingham loses patience.’’ ‘‘T had hoped that Trent and I would soon do some fighting with the fleet,’’ Giles an- swered, in a low and disappointed tone. ‘‘And you surely would have done so,’’ whispered the earl, ‘‘for in this same letter Admiral Lord Howard most strongly recom- mends your services to Drake. Still, the de- lay cannot be long. You will have fighting | in plenty betimes, Master Montford.’’ “‘Tt is not for me to question the queen’s command,’’ replied Giles. ‘‘1 shall bear the letter with all possible dispatch.’’ ‘¢But say nothing of this to your compan- ion,’’ cautioned the earl. ‘‘It is a State se- | cret.’’ ‘*T will be silent,’’ assured Giles, in a whis- per. ‘‘Tell me, my lord, if you may, what news there is concerning the Spanish vessel.’’ ‘‘None,’’ the earl answered. ‘‘A search for it hath proved vain to this time. Sir Francis believes that it left the pool even be- fore you arrived in London. Had it been there it could easily have been found by the description sent by Sir Richard Edgcumbe. ‘¢ And now I must be off,’’ the earl added. ‘«There is little sleep in these days for those connected with court. I wish you good speed and safety, Master Montford, and I hope we | may meet soon again.’’ With this he spurred away from the lad’s side, and up a cross street, and was quickly lost to sight in the direction of Holborn. The horsemen clattered on by Saint Paul’s | and thence over London Bridge to South- wark, meeting but few people in the lonely streets. The officer in command of the party was ina sullen and silent mood, and Giles had no inclination to talk. He had looked forward to an immediate cruise against Spanish ports, and he keenly felt the disap- pointment. Could he have peeped a little into the future he might have found far different matters to think about. Trent, on the contrary, was in high spirits. In the horseman on his left he found an old comrade of his Holland campaign, and the two fought their battles over again as they rode along. The escort went as far as the extreme sub- |sidered a masterly hand at dealing with Take the direct road to Plymouth, and don’t | spare the spur. There are reasons for urgency | —reasons you know nothing of.’’ With a keen glance of curiosity and a word | of affectionate farewell, Trent prodded up | his horse and went galloping over the moor. | The lad followed on foot, leading his lame steed by the bridle, and he soon saw his com- panion vanish over the crest of a ridge. The knowledge that the precious dispatch | was in safe hands put Giles in good spirits, | and he cared little for the pain of his swollen wrist. He went along rapidly, and an hour after dark he calculated that he was within four miles of Templeton. The thought of a good dinner quickened his steps, and as he was drawing near the mouth of a narrow ravine in which he had been traveling for the past half-hour, he heard the pounding hoofs of a large body of horsemen. He could not locate the direction of the sound at first, so he hurried on a few yards to the open and level moor that lay beyond the ravine. Here was a cross-road running due north and south, and looking in the lat- ter direction, he saw a dark mass rapidly ap- proaching. But Giles did not have time to feel alarmed. The moon was shining overhead, and its sil- very glow flashed on a hundred bits of pol- ished steel. With clank and clatter a com- pany of armored dragoons came forward on a trot, and at sight of the lad waiting by the roadside they reined up their steeds sharply | and suspiciously. The captain of the troop was a stoutly built man of sixty, with a pointed gray beard and twisted mustaches. Giles recognized Humphrey Jocelyn, a soldier of long stand- ing, a one-time native of Plymouth, and now an Officer of the garrison of that town. He bore no overly good reputation, and was con- cards. ‘¢ ?Tis Master Montford,’’ cried the cap- | tain, with a tremendous oath. ‘‘ What brings you here?”’ Giles briefly explained the situation. ‘‘Is Sir Francis Drake’s fleet still in the harbor?’’ he asked, eagerly. ‘‘Tt was there at noon-day,’’ was the reply. ‘‘Since then we have been up the channel shore on a wild-goose chase, and now we are heading around the sound for the coast of Cornwall ”’ ‘‘Hor what purpose?’’ Giles ventured to ask. The captain winked, and gave a vicious } urbs of the town. Then, with a few sugges- | tug at his sword-belt. tions as to the most expedient route to Plym- outh, the officer and his men wheeled about ‘*As like as not there’s a Spanish ship lying over in the bay off Tintagel Castle,” | and headed for London. Giles and Trent! he said, ‘‘and mayhap some of the knaves | pricked up their horses and galloped rapidly | are spying around onshore. Do you see, Mas- over the desolate commons of Surrey. Sun- rise found them many miles on their way. They rode unflaggingly all of that day and the next, resting a part of both nights at the road-side inns. The third morning found them at Exeter, and here they chose a differ- ent route from that by which they had come. It was nearer and less rugged, and they counted on reaching their journey’s end by noon-day. But when they were fairly out on the} Devonshire moor-land, and far from any habitation, Giles’ horse suddenly went lame. They might yet have returned to Exeter for another steed, but after a brief consultation they decided to push on,-hoping that the animal’s injury would not seriously disable it. They made poor progress, however, and it became evident that they could not reach Plymouth before night-fall. They jogged Slowly along, each oppressed by a fear of the possible consequences if the letter should be delayed. Giles, who alone knew the true Situation, was most deeply worried. He was aware that Drake’s intended time of depart- ure was unknown even to Sir Richard Edg- Cumbe. By now the fleet might have lifted anchor and be sailing down the sound. Within an hour of sunset, and when Plym- Outh was yet a dozen miles away, the lad’s Orse lost its footing on a rocky slope and fell on its forelegs. Giles was pitched out of the saddle and escaped worse injury by bear- Ing the brunt of the fall on his right arm, is wrist proved to be badly sprained, and When the horse got to its feet it limped worse than ever. Giles was angry and disgusted. ‘«The animal can’t do more than walk for the rest of the way,’’? he muttered. ‘‘You Must hurry on with the dispatch, Stephen, and leave me to follow as best I can.’’ ‘‘No; you go,’’ replied Trent. ‘‘Take my . horse ” Giles shook his head. rs ‘‘T can only use my left hand,’’ he said. It might do to hold a bridle, but I should Cut a sorry figure if I was attacked on the Way, and could not lift a sword. Not that lere is any danger to be feared, but it won’t do to take chances with the dispatch.’’ Trent saw the wisdom of this, and reluct- mee assented to the proposition. ‘It ill becomes me to leave you alone on the moor, Master Giles, and in such helpless Plight,’ he replied, ‘‘but her majesty’s serv- i€e comes before all else. I will bear the let- ®r to Sir Francis Drake’sship in the harbor, 4nd then sheer back to Templeton. If you nee not arrived——’’ i I will be there by that time,’’ Giles broke te ‘and we will cross to Mount Edgcumbe gether, Now off in haste, my good Stephen. ter Montford?’’ Giles nodded. ‘ [This Story Will Not Be Published in Book-Form. ] | SLAVES TO SAVAGES; ? BROUGHT BACK FROM AFRICA, A STORY IN THREE PARTS. ensins GF i BY J. SPENCER MURRAY. (“SLAVES TO SAVAGES” was commenced last week.) PART II. HE advance division of the Khartoum j2 expedition was encamped at Korti, - the British center for supples, on the —” Upper Nile. The camp presented an appearance of unusual activity, for rein- forcements had just come up from Shaba- dud, and it was now expected that the greater part of the column would at once move forward to Metemmeh, where the Mahdi’s troops were stationed in force. Among the detachment which had just arrived were our friends, Melville Chitwood, of the Standavd, and Prentiss Kenyon, his American companion, who had succeeded in getting attached to the staff of Major Ather- ton of the Camel Corps—and also, though they knew it not, a certain dark-complex- ioned individual, with a pair of peculiar, roving black eyes, and a countenance which was Villainous in the extreme. He was attired in the regulation karkee | suit worn by the infantry, and his face was shaded by his big helmet hat. He had joined | the expedition at Assouan, representing him- self as the sole survivor of a party of traders who had been attacked at night by Arabs, | while encamped on the shore of the river in their Nile boat. As no other provision could be made for his safety, he was allowed to take his place in the ranks, and a uniform was told off to him by the quartermaster. It was late in the afternoon when the force intended for the long and arduous march across the Bayuda Desert to Metem- meh, moved off in solid formation, after |parading past Lord Wolseley, the com mander-in-chief. Sir Herbert Stewart, a popular and dash- | ing ofiicer, was in command of the detach- | ment. In front of the column were half a dozen native guides mounted on camels, while parties of troopers, belonging to the Nineteenth Hussars, scoured the country | ahead in search of lurking foes. Late the next morning the troops halted 'in a small oasis, breakfasted, and slept for some hours. The country traversed during this stage of the desert march was rather more rocky than sandy, the plain being dotted here and there with smooth, conical hills of dark- colored stone, while on the higher ground were endless groves of mimosa trees, which, in some places, rose to a height of ten or twelve feet. During the advance, parties of white- robed Arabs were occasionally observed on the distant hills and ridges, but they did not venture any nearer, and no attention was paid to them, as it was not expected that any considerable opposition could be encountered until the troops neared Metem- meh, where the enemy were massed in great force. ‘ Melville and Prentiss rode along on the left flank of the column, side by side, on sturdy little Egyptian horses, capable of en- during fatigue and privations which would in the course of a few days have rendered English horses useless, Both were attired in serviceable karkee uniforms, and wore the . . +, 2% . regulation helmet hats, in addition to which they were equipped with canteens and haversacks. As to arms, Prentiss had a re- volver and a Martini-Henri repeating rifle slung in a bucket on one side of his horse, while the journalist sported a sword and a pair of big navy pistols. The Wells of Jakdul were reached on the morning of the ensuing.day, and the troops were at once halted and set to work con- structing two forts, as the column was to wait here for reinforcements before moving on to Metemmeh. On the tenth day afterward, the addi- tional troops arrived from Korti, and the expedition move’ off again, leaving a strong force to protect the foits and wells. For two days the march was continued, through a country destitute of any living thing, not {even the customary mimosa scrub being visible. Just as the column entered a narrow val- ley flanked by two steep hills, beyond which lay a wide stretch of elevated ground, a couple of troopers of the skirmish line gal- loped in at full speed, and reported that large numbers of Arabs could be seen on the adjoining hill-tops. General Stewart and his | staff immediately galloped ahead to the rising ground, and with their field-glasses swept the surrounding hills, upon which great numbers of Arabs could be made out in constant motion. As it was now not long before sunset, and the force of the enemy was unknown, it was decided not to risk an attack util the fol- |lowing day, so the troops were at once halted and a strong detachment of mounted infantry sent up to the crest of a hill on the right of the pass, with instructions to build a small fort and mount their two Gardner guns there. Meanwhile, the main body set to work to build a wall with the loose stones in which |the bottom of ‘the valley abounded. Just before sundown a strong body of Arabs took _ ponies of a hill some distance away and | opened fire, to which the Gardner guns re- plied with such effect that they retired in | haste, though a scattered rifle fire, with an | occasional yelling and beating of toms-toms, | was kept up at intervals during the night. At daybreak it was found that the num- ber of the enemy on the neighboring hills had enormously increased, while an inces- sant fire~was kept up by the Mahdi’s soldiers. The English were in addition considerably annoyed by a group of mounted Arab sharp- shooters, who dashed as close to the position as they dared, and attempted to pick off the officers as they rode about giving orders to the men. ‘Let me take your rifle a minute, Ken- yon,’’ said Melville to the American, who had just galloped up from the rear, ‘‘and I will show these fellows that they are not going to have it all their own way.”’ Prentiss reined in his horse, and unsling- ing his Martini from the bucket, handed it down to the speaker. Elevating the sights of the piece to a thousand yards, Melville rose to his feet and resting the barrel on the edge of the para- pet, took careful aim and fired at the near- est horseman. The man was seen to reel and fall from the saddle, while his frightened horse dashed away at headlong speed over the plain. The Englishman fired twice again in rapid succession, with the same result; two more horses plunged away riderless, while the re- maining horsemen scattered in dismay. A murmur of admiration went up from |the soldiers at this marvelous marksman- ship. ‘‘That fellow Chitwood is a dead shot,’’ said a young lieutenant of infantry to Pren- Es ‘this shooting is simply wonderful. | } Down at Korti he actually killed one of those big river cranes on the wing with his |revolver at a distance of thirty yards, and now he pops over these fellows as easy as | you please. It beats me how any one can hit the beggars at the speed at which they dasb about.’ As-soon as the men had eaten their break- fast under the shelter of the wall, the word was passed along the lines to prepare for action. The troops were formed up in a square, and the command was given to ad- vance. Asmall garrison was left in the inclosure to protect the camels and baggage, and the column moved out in good order. As the English moved forward from the improvised fort, the fire of the enemy re- doubled, and fresh swarms of Arabs sprang up as if by magic on the adjoining hills, moving parallel with the advance of the square and keeping up an incessant hail of bullets. Skirmishers were thrown out on each side of the square, and these succeeded in checking the fire of the assailants to some extent. Men were falling fast, and frequent halts had to be made to allow the surgeons to at- tend 10 the wounded and place them in the cacolets, or swinging beds. Just as the troops emerged from the pass onto the level ground beyond, a great num- ber of green and white flags were seen at some distance on the left front. A mounted orderly dashed down the line, ‘‘Sound the recall of the skirmishers,’’ he cried, in a voice that rang above the roar of musketry; ‘‘the enemy are massed in a gully yonder !”’ As the clear notes of the bugle rang out, a vast horde of Arabs who had _ been con- cealed in a gully about five hundred yards distant, sprang to their feet and with wild yells charged down upon the square. The skirmishers dashed in just in the nick of time, though several were overtaken and cut down before they could reach their com- panions. Then, with hoarse yells, the dense, surging mass of Arabs, headed by many horsemen, swept down upon the English, Sheet after sheet of flame and smoke blazed out from the left and rear faces of the square. Under that terrible fire the Arabs were mowed down in hundreds, but their rush was unchecked. On they came, their dark, fierce faces set in grim defiance of death itself. Bi 442683 At the beginning of the battle, Prentiss had dismounted and taken his place on the left wing, among the Camel Corps, and when the Arab rush struck the flank, he | ’ was in the front line. In another moment, the left face of the| square. was driven in urder the shock of that wild charge and a hand-to-hand fight ensued, English and Arabs being mixed to- | gether in indescribable confusion. A tall Aarb made a rush for Prentiss with uplifted saber. Clubbing his rifle, the American sprang to one side, and brought down the butt on the fellow’s head with such force that his skull was shattered, and he sank down without a groan. As Prentiss reversed his rifle and shot an- other big savage who was bounding forward | with upraised spear, he heard a stunning re- port from behind, and a stream of flame | passed so close to his cheek that for the mo- | ment he was nearly blinded. Quick asa flash he wheeled about, and | gazed straight into the glittering black eyes of—the man of the steamer! ‘*You scoundrel!’’ hissed the American; ‘fyou infernal assassin!’’ and with the leap of a tiger, he sprang upon the fellow and wrested the smoking revolver from his grasp. Suddenly, through the drifting clouds of rifle smoke, up loomed a huge Arab, mounted on a plunging, snow-white charger. With a terrible shout, the horseman raised himself in the stirrups, and his long curved sword swung upward into ‘the crescent of the sky. Quick as lightning the American leaped aside to avoid the descending blow. As he did so, the great white charger reared upon his haunches, and Prentiss saw a sight which eaused his face to blanch to the hue of ashes. The dark-faced man with the evil eyes was down under those plungingy trampling hoofs, and fearful shrieks of agony resounded above the tumult of the battle. With the strength of desperation, the man writhed and struggled to drag himself from under the pounding hoofs of the white de- mon, but in vain! In a moment the shrieks ceased, and he lay there motionless. In another instant Prentiss remembered , the revolver in his hand, and cocking the weapon, he took quick aim at the horseman | and let drive. The Arab reeled and dropped from the saddle, while the white horse swerved at the flash, and then wheeling, dashed away over the plain. Meanwhile the steady discipline and su- perior weapons of the English were begin- ning to tell. Two machine guns were wheeled rapidly forward, and opened upa terrible fire into the crowded mass of na- tives, while the mounted infantry, on the left, were faced round, and poured volley after volley into the foe. The combat did not last long.’ Mowed down by the withering fire on both flanks, the Arabs wavered, and then broke and fled in the wildest confusion, while the machine | guus kept up an incessant fire into their re- treating ranks. Then with a cheer, the cavalry formed up and swept forward. The battle was won! Some time later, as the American was | about to go off in search of his friend, he saw Melville coming up, his clothes dis- colored with dirt and powder smoke, and | his sword blade literally stained crimson. He had lost the scabbard in the melee. ‘*This way, Kenyon!’’ cried the journal- ist, while he mopped his perspiring brow vigorously with a huge red handkerchief. ‘*You are wanted over at the hospital tent.’’ Melville led the way to one of the large tents occupied by the wounded. As they passed under the flap a surgeon beckoned to them from a cot at the rear of the tent, upon which lay the bruised and ‘mangled body of the man who had been trampled under the hoofs of the white horse. The evil light had faded out of his eyes, and it could be seen that he was dying. As Prentiss approached the cot. the dying man’s face brightened, aud he made an ap- pealing gesture to the surgeon. The latter, after giving him a glass of some strengthen- ing cordial, propped him up on the couch and motioned the visitors nearer. ‘*Come closer,’’ said the man, feebly; ‘‘I have something to tell you.”’ Prentiss bent forward. / ‘The man you seek is a slave among the Cheroala tribe of Gallas, down near the south-western border of Abyssinia. He was not killeé at Berbera. An American was slain there ina fight with some Arabs, but it was not he. I identified the murdered man to the authorities as Perry W. Black- ledge.’’ With an effort, the man resumed: ‘*It was I who fired that shot at Berbera; how I escaped your search does not matter now. I, also; bribed the Arabs who at- tempted to kill you. I was hired to put you out of the way by Percival Blackledge, of New York. Give me—more—of the cor- dial.’’ The surgeon came forward and adminis- tered another draught of the cordial. The man was sinking fast. ‘“The real—Perry Blackledge,’’ continued the dying man, with difficulty, ‘‘did join Gordon’s expedition—but he never—reached Khartoum. captured—by the natives.’’ |the immediate control of the Mahdi was He strayed—~away—and was! GoonDpD The man fell back exhausted, while his | face assumed a ghastly, grayish ‘pallor, and | a film gathered upon his eyes. In a few mo- | ments all was over, and his soul had_ passed | into the great unknown. * * 2 * ** * ‘So old Steele was right after all, and | Blackledge is a prisoner among the Gallas,’ | said Prentiss, as the two men were riding | along about half a mile in advance of the} column, some hours later. ‘‘ Yes, and may God have mercy on him,”’ | replied. Melville, solemnly, ‘‘for he will | never escape. Africa does not give up her | white slaves. He is destined to a life of | | terrible captivity. I have heard that these | Gallas are terribly inhuman and cruel.’’ Prentiss made no response, for he felt that | | his companion had spoken the truth. The British were about fifty miles from Metemmeh, in the middle of a large tract of | | level desert-country. The troops had been | marching for some hours, and were suffer- | ing intensely from thirst, as it bad _ been | necessary to reserve most of the scanty sup- | ply of water for the wounded. The Hussars wele out scouring the country | in search of the wells which were reported | to be in the vicinity, and, as our friends | were wel) mounted, they, too, had been told | off to assist in the search. As they galloped ahead to the crest of a/| steep ridge, Melville saw in the distance a | group of green trees, whose presence proba- | bly betokened the long-sought for water. Putting spurs to their horses, the two men dashed across the plain toward the oasis. As | they reached the trees our friends gave a |shout of joy, for there in the center of the | | grove, lay a clear, deep pool, about a hun- | dred feet in diameter. Throwing themselves from their horses, they knelt down and | drank long and deeply of the clear fluid. The horses were already up to their stomachs Suddenly, Prentiss became aware of a/| flash of light which had passed by his head, and a second later he heard several splashes in the water a few yards from the edge of the pool, asa number of heavy spears dis- | appeared beneath the surface. | Prentiss and his companion were on their feet in an instant. Turning round, they saw a group of about twenty Arabs standing not more than ten | paces away. They were armed with swords, spears and long guns, and some of them still had their hands raised and their bodies bent forward in the attitude of throwing a spear. In another second the Arabs advanced, brandishing their long spears. Seeing that to resist was to ensure their death, the two | white men held up their arms as a sign of ! /submission, - | The Arabs rushed forward in a body, with | uplifted weapons, but at a sharp command from one who seemed to be their leader, they lowered them, and half a dozen sprang 'forward and bound the arms of the white | men tightly behind them with strong cords, | At an order from the chief, a number of | the Arabs re-entered the grove of trees, and ;}soon came back, leading some twenty camels, their burdens strapped on their backs in readiness fora journey. The camels were made to kneel, and their riders mounted, each of the white men _ being placed behind one of the Arabs. The chief appropriated the American’s Martini for his own use, and the varjous baggage which the prisoners’ horses had borne was divided among his followers. The horses themselves were placed at the rear of the party. Then the camels started off into the desert at a long, swinging lope, and the oasis was soon left behind in the distance. The Arabs struck off to the south-east, traveling at a rapid rate. Soon the rocky and irregular ground was left behind, and a seemingly endless expanse of desert lay before them. At nightfall they camped upon the open desert. The captives were so stiff from the effect of their bonds and the motion of the camels that they could scarcely stand erect, seeing which the chief ordered the cords to be taken off, as they were now fairly out into the desert, and it was not deemed necessary to keep the white men bound. Melville and Prentiss were, each given a few dates and a drink from a water-skin: ‘the Arabs took the same, and then the party lay down to sleep, the prisoners being first secured by cords to the wrists of two of \the Arabs. They saw that it was useless to | attempt to escape, as it would only awaken their captors, and probably result in bad | treatment? | At dawn the party started off again, and traveled all day. At the end of a week they halted in a small oasis, and remained there 'some days, to give the camels a chance to |recruit for the long and arduous desert | journey which lay before them, as Melville picked up from the conversation of the Arabs, for he could understand a little of the language. On the third day afterward, the Arabs ‘left the oasis. The journey was kept up for a fortnight longer, and the country under left far behind. Melville judged that they ‘could not now be far from the borders of in the water, sucking it in in long draughts. | é NEWS. from the monotony of the journey in con- each in a harness or cage, by which it may versation. Their apparently desperate situa- | tion and the prospect of hopeless slavery which stared them in the face bad drawn them closer together, and between the Eng- lishman and the American had sprung up a | |of which a pin is stuck, firmly fasten the bond of friendship as strong as life itself. ‘“These fellows are probably some of the slave-dealers who go down to the Great Lake country,’’ said Melville to Prentiss one day, ‘‘though it is possible that they may. be engaged in the mercantile trade between El- | | structed, it will freely and evenly revolve Obeid and Kassala. In either case, our only hope of escape is, if we can get off witha couple of camels, to darken our bodies so as to pass for natives, and make our way into | | Abyssinia or down to the south, where Emin Pasha still rules in the name of Egypt. ‘*Even then,’’ he added, gloomily, ‘‘we | should be but little better off, for though the Abyssinians themselves are friendly, the | whole southern part of the country is over- run by Gallas, who make slaves of all white | |/men that fall into their hands. As for Enmin)} placing a few fine shot in one or the other Pasha, he is hemmed in on all sides, and the chances are that he will never cut his way out to the coast. If we are sold to any tribe further to the west, there is absolutely nothing before us but a life-long slavery.’’ And Melville relapsed into a gloomy silence. He was aroused from the revery into which he had fallen by a loud cry from Prentiss, and as he followed the direction of the latter’s outstretched arm, he saw in the distance a Jarge body of men mounted on camels. There were about a hundred of them, and as they moved along. their weapons flashed and glistened in the bright sunlight! (TO BE CONTINUED.) a oe ? AN ow {o Bo FHINGs. EDITED BY DAVID PARKS. HOW TO KEEP GOLD FISH. OLD FISH are very popular pets, and if they are somewhat difficult to keep, they are easily replaced, and are very pretty, inoffensive little creatures. They may be kept in either plain glass globes, or in the more ambitious aquariums, with other varieties of small fish, and vari- 'ous water plants tastefully arranged, The former method being that most frequently adopted, I will go into it first, and describe the latter plan afterward. The water in the globe should be (if possi- ble) obtained from a running stream, and no food of any kind allowed except dried |ant’s eggs, which are generally to be pur- chased from naturalists dealing in requisites |for small pets. Occasionally, by way of a change, a very few white millet seeds may be given instead of the eggs, six of which daily should be the maximum allowance for each fish, as three or four usually suffice. Overfeeding is fatal to gold fish, which are naturally disposed to be greedy. The globe should be filled three parts full of water, which must be frequently changed (by means of a siphon), but more often in summer than in winter, The room in which they are kept should not be too warm, as gold fish cannot endure any great degree of heat. Too much light, also, is bad for them, therefore, the globa should not be placed in front of a window, but by the side of it. Bread crumbs and flies must on no account be given, as they are apt to kill the unfor- tunate victims of misplaced kindness. Spring water (which frequently contains iron) should be avoided, as it is too cold and hard, and the water from faucets is also open to objection, owing to the leaden pipes through which it flows. Gold fish shoula never be handled as they are easily bruised. Two or three trumpet snails should be kept in the water with all gold fish, to devour the slime, and thus keep the little creatures healthy. An oblong glass tank is the usual shape for a fresh water aquarium, which should be stocked as fol- lows: Place some clean sand at the bottom, then a few pieces of charcoal and some small stones, and lastly, various colored shells. Plant, tastefully on the top, about three inches deep in the gravel and sand, some pretty little water plants, selecting those most easily obtained. When-in a thriving condition (and, of course, kept under water, put the fish into the aquarium. told fish, silver fish, small minnows, and tiny eels are all pretty. A glass top to the aquarium will be needed to prevent chances of the inmates escaping, but in order to afford air the top should be slightly raised about a quarter of an inch all around. Care must be taken to supply each fish with an adequate amount of food, for other- wise the little creatures will prey upon each other. AN EGG-SHELL STEAM ENGINE. The egg-shell steam engine is easily made. Blow two fresh eggs by making a small Abyssinia. Finding that the Arabs raised no objec- tion; the captives frequently sought relief be hung securely in a horizontal position. In the same manner firmly suspend a thimble from each egg so that it will hang directly below when the egg is suspended. Next take a bottle cork, into the bottom prongs of two forks into it at exactly oppo- site sides, and poise the whole on the head of the pin, which should rest on a well-worn copper laid on the top of a sauce or wine bottle. If this mechanism is carefully con- |around the bottle. | jhole in the big end and carefully sucking . It now becomes necessary to half-fill each egg-shell with water. To do this beat them over a lamp and then suddenly plunge them into cold water, and enough will penetrate to the interior. Now carefully hang a shell from each fork handle, and place in each of the thimbles a wad of cotton wool saturated in alcohol. Insure a perfect balance of the whole by thimble if need be. All is now ready for getting up steam. Touch a match to the cotton wadding in the thimbles, and in a few minutes the water in the egg will boil, and steam will begin to issue from the holes. Of course, the egg- shells are hung so. as to face in opposite directions. When the steam begins to ‘‘hiss’’ gently, set the whirligig in motion away from the jet of steam, and then the force of the es- ‘aping steam will keep up the movement, slowly at first, but soon at quite a rapid rate of revolution. Goose eggs, of vourse, will afford larger boilers, and as a consequence will keep the machine in operation longer. THE ANIMATED CARD. This is a good trick, and will cause some amusement, but you do not want the audi- ence too near. Give the pack to a person to select any card he has a fancy for, and to replace it in the pack. For him to replace the card, you hold the cards in such a man- ner that you keep them well separated, and when the card is replaced, you know its position, and a cut will bring it to the top if you cannot make the pass, which is much better. Previously you bave a long hair fastened to your vest, with a small piece of prepared white wax attached to the other end, and which is concealed. under your right thumb-nail. ‘'he card having been duly brought to the top of the pack, you press the wax upon it, and spread out the cards upon the table. Ask the person to name the ecard drawn, and command it to leave the rest of the pack and come toward your hand. By moving the body backward, the card will be drawn from the rest and move in the direction indicated. Slip off the wax and break the hair, leaving no trace of the means employed. This trick appears marvel- ous when well performed. + 0 — HARD ON THE WARDEN. A phrenologist who has been touring the country and giving lectures in the art, tells the following ‘‘good one’’ on himseli. He was in the habit of inviting people of differ- ent avocations to come upon the stage, and he would dilate upon and expound the pecu- liarities of their cranial construction. He had come to that portion of his lecture where he dealt with the criminal form of the cranium, and addressed the audience: ‘Tf there is any person present who at any time has been the inmate of a prison he will oblige me by coming upon the platform.’’ A heavily built man responded to this in- vitation. ‘*You admit that you have been in prison, sir?’’ ‘‘T have, sir,’’? was the unblushing answer. ‘‘Would you kindly tell us how many years you have spent behind prison bars?”’ ‘About twenty years,’’ unhesitatingly replied the subject. ‘‘Dear, dear,’’ exclaimed the professor. ‘*Will you sit down, please?’’ The subject sat down in a chair in the center of the stage. The professor ran his fingers rapidly through the bair of the sub- ject and assumed a thoughtful expression. ‘‘This is a most excellent specimen. indications of a depraved character are very plainly marked. The organs of benevolenc® and esteem are entirely absent; that 0 destructiveness is developed to an abnorm@ degree. I could have told instantly withou the confession of this man that his life ba been erratic and criminal. What was thé crime for which you were imprisoned?’’ ‘‘T never committed any crime,’’ growl the man in the chair. 5 ‘‘But you said that you had been an i mate of a prison for twenty years?’’ ‘*T’m the warden of the prison.’’ —-+ 0->- : Little Grace had very curly hair, and it was a great trial to her to get it combees One day during this process she was crying: and making a greater disturbance tha usual, when her mother said: ‘‘What will the neighbors say when they hear you making such a noise?’’? Pausing in her weeping, she replied: ‘‘They will say: ‘Why doesn’t that wo maB out the contents. With very fine wire put’ spank that child!’ ”’ _—~ p ir of er ar SS ds he he ur he ve Ax he el- nd it sbed« ying, tha®a they omar GooD [This Story wlil not be Published in Book-Form. } BOATS, BATS AND BICYCLES: OR, Nimble Jerry’s Pluck and Luck. _——— The Haps and Mishaps of a Young Athlete, BY ERNEST A. YOUNG, Author of ‘‘Blue and White Sam,”’ etc. (Boats, BATS AND BICYCLES’ was commenced | in No. 273. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) j CHAPTER XXII. OFF THE ROOF. -IMBLE JERRY, with his face turned upward, never in his life had a bet- ter sight of a human countenance than he had of that of Miss Nancy I Re Linden! | quarreling with another fellow on the boat | this afternoon.’’ ‘‘The boy is a chip of the old block,”’ said Jerry. ‘*Did they see or hear you just now?’’ the girl asked. ‘‘T think not, but they must have heard you. That’s why I was in such a hurry to get. out of sight. They'll be investigating pretty soon, aud [ s’pose the sooner I get out of the house the better. Is there any way that I can escape except by way of the win- dow without meeting anybody else?’’ ‘“Why, yes, you may go by way of the door, and I don’t think anybody will hear you.’’ ‘1d like to hear more of their confab if I | had achance. Butif I can’t, then the quicker | | I get out of sight the better, because I don’t | want to get you into the racket!’ ‘Oh, don’t mind me!’’ she exclaimed, im- pulsively. ‘‘After being so brave and kind this afternoon, I’m sure you must be good and honest! Indeed, you look so!’’ ‘*Much obliged, Miss Linden—for I take it that’s your name. I saw it on the door.’’ ‘*Nancy Linden,’’ she replied. ‘‘ And they She saw him with almost equal plainness, and it was from surprise rather than fright that she uttered the outcry, for she recog- nized Jerry at once. It would have been absurd for her to have supposed that the young athlete would take so much trouble to save her life in the after- noon, and then come in the night for the pur- pose of murdering her. Therefore she was too | sensible to be in the least frightened. And! yet she had to let out that foolish little scream. And once more Jerry almost wished he’d left her in the lake! ‘‘Don’t, miss, for goodness sake!’’ Jerry exclaimed, in a sibilant whisper. ‘*No, no, 1 won’t again,’’ she meekly an- swered. And then she waited mutely for him to give au account of himself. Mr. Thornton and Jack Burnham had sud- denly become very quiet. One of them fumbled at the shutter, and tried to peer out through the slats. But in | Jerry’s present position they could not see him without exposing themselves, and this | they seemed not quite ready to do. ‘“‘T_T want to get out of sight some where— quick!’’ Jerry exclaimed, in a whisper. Miss Nancy hesitated for just a quarter of a minute. She fully realized that it was a very irregular thing to do, to let a compara- tive stranger come into the house through the window in the middle of the night, But she at the same time remembered that when she had fallen into the lake this same young fellow did not hesitate even a fraction of a mi.ute before he jumped in after her. It occurred to herin that swift thought that if he had asked her how she happened to fall into the water, and inquired all about | her name and parentage before making the move to help ber, she would have been pretty certain to have gone to the bottom of the lake. Nimble Jerry was not at this moment in danger of drowning, yet, she reasoned, he might be in other peril equally as great. She very softly opened both the shutters wide, and motioned to him to, enter. Jerry lost no time in availing himself of the chance. The instant he was inside she closed the shutters and faced about to look at him. The room itself was a very small one, and Seemed to have been used as a sort of sewing- room. As for Miss Nancy herself, she had | evidently been doing a little midnight mend- ing. “T got home only a little more than an hour ago,’’ she explained, in a cautious key. “And I had so much to think about that I Wasn’t a bit sleepy. And then the bell was rung by somebody who came to see our boarder. They were talking in the next room, and—I couldn’t help wondering what it was all about.’’ ‘-T could tell you.and not half try’’ said Jerry. Miss Nancy wasstill looking at him a trifle askance. ‘“So you were listening?’’ she asked. ‘“Sort of, so to speak.”’ ‘‘And you’re the young man who saved My life this afternoon?’’ “‘T’n) the young man who took a little Swim on your account. I don’t guess you | Would have drowned even if I hadn’t been | there. So don’t lay that up against me, and try to use me just as well as if you had never Seen me before. I'll own up that 1 was listen- Ing to old Thornton and -his lackey in the Other room. They’re talking about me—that’s Why; and the old snipe is plotting how to Set me out of the way—that’s what!”’ Miss Nancy looked at her midnight visitor N silent wonderment. **Are you joking? Teally mean it!’’ ‘*T don’t mean anything else. If that Mr. hornton is a particular friend of yours, en you have for a particular friend my Particular enemy.’? ‘‘Oh, Mr. Thornton is no friend of ours,’’ Iss Linden hastened to reply. ‘‘He’s Merely a summer boarder staying here for 4 few weeks. He seemed to be very respect- 4bdle. and to have lots of money. His son Called here once, and it was he who was It can’t be that you | that Jerry, and that you were wonderful in all sorts of feats. Nobody seemed to know your other name.’’ ‘Jeremiah Sharpe, Jerry. ‘‘And as for my feet, they are won- derful for size, though { didn’t know they were so fanious that everybody would be talk- | ing about them.”’ Miss Nancy came very near laughing audi- bly, and so again putting her young friend in peril. And that caused him to resolve not to try to be funny any more until there was a better chance for his listener to show her appreciation. At this moment there was a decided move- ment in the next room. A door opened and closed in no gentle man- ner, and footsteps hurried down the stairs. ‘“That’s busiuess,’’ said Jerry. ‘‘They’ve found out somehow that some one has been prowling around. And now they’ve gone down to find him. I suppose your folks are | all abed?’’ “Oh, yes. But my father is very easily aroused. Sometimes he gets called upon in the night to go out and arrest somebody— he’s a constable, you know!’’ ‘*T didn’t know,’’ said Jerry. ‘‘ And 1 don’t | know as it will help me any out of my pres- eut pinch. If he’s a constable, what’s the matter with his arresting a young vagabond like me, if his high-toned boarder says that’s what I need!’’ Miss Nancy looked decidedly alarmed. She knew her father rather prided himself upon promptness in exercising his authority, and that he was not at all loath to make an ar- rest, especially if the culprit were a boy, and therefore not. a particularly dangerous cus- tomer. ‘*You must go,’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘And my father mustn’t see you, for he wouldn’t wait for me to explain anything. He never does. Why can’t you goright out of the window now, the same way you came in? And then |in the morning you come to the door ina regular way, and I’ll introduce you to my father, and then everything will be all right.”’ ‘‘And after that I can get in and out of his windows whenever I like, and never turn a hair,’’ said Jerry. The youth opened one of the shutters cau- tiously, and peered out. He could see that the light streamed from Thornton's room fairly upon the piazza roof. This indicated the shutter to the other window was open. Whether there was only one there to watch or not was uncertai>. Rather than involve Miss Nancy in trouble, Jerry decided to go out that way at once and take the risk. ‘*T’]] see you again some time, sure,’’ he said. ‘‘And if your father should get after me, and pull mein, you’d testify in my favor, I know!”’ ‘Oh, [ll stand by you, Jerry, through thick and thin!’ She was so excited that she called him Jerry before she thought. She could not re- member his last name, and all she could think of was Mr. Nimble, and somehow she liked Jerry better. Jerry wasted no more time, but sprang lightly out upon the roof. No sooner had he done so, than Jack Burnham leaped out through the other window. And in short order the two were clinched in each other’s embrace with a fierceness that seemed to promise annibilation to both. The roof was not flat, and the slant was just sufficient to render it perfectly easy to roll off. And the energies of the two boys were so closely employed in the struggle with one an- other, that they had no chance to resist the laws of gravity. The consequence was that Miss Nancy, who, with horror, had observed the begin- ning of the encounter. in yet greater con- sternation saw them roll off the roof together ! She heard them strike upon the ground be- low, and although the distance was not very great, she was fearful that the fall might have resulted in broken bones to her hero. The next moment she was out upon the roof herself. and peering over the edge. She saw the combatants already upon their feet, but even as she looked, Jack Burnham NEW S. 44659 | Jerry’s tist. he stayed right there. Jerry glanced up, saw Nancy’s anxious | a run towa)'d the road. But his flight was cut off by the sudden | path! CHAPTER XXIII. CONSTABLE LINDEN. % T last Nimble Jerry was face to face YWe\C with the one whom he believed to be + his arch-enemy ! ~~ ‘You young villain, you dropper—you thief! I’ve got you!”’ ‘‘You've got me to get, old man!’’ was eaves- Jerry’s retort. He darted to one side, but Mr. Thornton, was sent over upon his back by a blow from | at least, not in the same way. He had an- other idea in his brain, which promised bet- The sullen-faced messenger was down, and | ter results than in continuing to punish his | eneny. : . ‘“‘Come along with me!’’ he said, taking face, waved his hand to her, and started on| Jack by the arm, and drawing him near the roadside. ‘‘What are you going to do with me?”’ appearance of Mr. Thornton directly in his} Jack whined. ‘*Come in among the trees, and I’ll show you! And you needn’t be too lazy about it, or I?ll give you something worse than you’ve got yet!’’ Jack did not resist. the road, Jerry said: ‘*Pull off that blue sweater and those trou- Once out of sight of |sers of yours quick as you can get out of | them! I want to put them on. They may fit mie too quick, but they’ll have to answer my purpose !”? The messenger did not resist, but he did remonstrate with his most dismal whine. But Jerry was merciless. Burnham’s outer garments were of a de- | senior, proved himself to be more nimble | cidedy better quality and much less warm |than his son. He succeeded in cutting off | than were Jerry’s. But the reader need not | Jerry’s retreat in that direction, and at the | suppose that it was on that said on the boat that you were called Ninible | same time seizing the youth’s arm with all | Jerry was so anxious to make the change. It | of his man’s strength. Jerry twisted and squirmed, and his assail- | different object in view. | ant held on the tighter. ‘The man was heavy | for short,’’ laughed and strong. In this he bad a most decided |advantage. All Jerry really wished to do | then was to get out of the way. But it was evident that he would have to do something else before he would have an opportunity of flight. And this thing with- out further delay he proceeded to do. He whirled suddenly upon his assailant, and struck him with his clinched fist between the eyes! The man staggered—released his hold upon Nimble Jerry, and nearly fell. The next moment Jerry was dashing out upon the road, and toward the spot where he had left his wheel. He looked back, and saw Nancy standing upon the roof, and he was sure that she waved her handkerchief to him—so sure that he would have waved his cap had he not lost it. And, somehow, the feeling that the young lady was so pleased to see hin escape, sent a new kind of happiness into his heart. At the same time, however, he noticed an- other interesting facté-Jack Burnham had disappeared. When Jerry reached the spot where he had concealed his wheel, the latter was gone. Swiftly he searched about in the bushes among which it had been hidden, but all in vain. ‘«He did it! He sneaked out here while I was struggling with Thornton and stole my wheel! But what does he want cf it when be has the other one? He can’t ride two at the same time. He did it so that I couldn’t get out of the way. But where did he leave his? I re- member, I saw it up by the barn!”? Jerry started back in a bee-line toward the buildings, plunging his way through the thick shrubbery that grew along the road- side. His foot struck against something that flung him headlong. And he knew what it was. He picked bimself up and stared at the wreck. It was his own bicycle, lying upon its side, the spokes bent and twisted, the tires slashed with a knife, and one of the crank-pins broken! How Jack Burnham could have done so much damage in such a short space of time was a mystery. Jerry’s wheel, old and dingy though it was, had had good service in it yet, but for this vicious attempt to wreck it. And now it was as useless as a cart-wheel. Jerry was hurt a great deal worse than he would have been if it had been himself in- stead of- the bicycle who had received the abuse. — For a moment he lost his presence of mind. He forgot that he was in present danger— he forgot that he was likely to be arrested at any moment by Constable Linden on a trumped-up charge—he forgot everything, except the painful fact that his beloved bicycle bad come to grief, and that he could never ride it again! But he soon aroused himself, and started off into the road, Just as he did so, he heard the slight whirr of an epproaching bicycle. It was almost upon him, and he recognized it and the rider at the same instant. It was Jack Burnham Thornton’s wheel! Jerry made a tiger likespring, in the same direction that the wheel was going, caught the messenger by the arm and pulled him and the wheel over together. Jack uttered a yell of terror—and well he might. Jerry rolled him over and over in the road, shaking and pummelling bim in a way that the boy would not soon forget. Still, Jerry bad no intention of being cruel. He stopped long before he felt that he had given the other all that ‘he deserved. Be- sides, he wished to be on the road without further delay. : He stood over his victim for a moment, out of breath with his exertions, while Jack upon Mortimer } j } | | where he had left Jack Burnbam, when Burnbam glared up at him evidently in mor- ; tal fear lest the young athlete might renew the attack. But Jerry had no intentions of doing so— account that will soon appear that be had an altogether Jerry removed his own garments corre- sponding to those of the messenger, remark- ing, as he did so: ‘*You may put mine on or travel without them—take your choice.’?’ Jerry left Burnham very gingerly putting on the cast-off ‘‘toggery’’ which the young athlete had worn so long, and so well, while he ran out into theroad, picked up Mr. Mor- timer Thornton’s bicycle, saw that it was upinjured, and in a moment was on the sad- dle and flitting away through the darkness. Jerry bad no more than fairly started when he heard the rumble of wheels on the hard road coming from the direction of the Lin- den dwelling. He slowed up immedately while a slight smile crossed his face. He was tempted to do an audacious thing, and be had no power of resistance in a temptation of that kind. He was happier when in a little danger than be could possibly be under any other conditions. He turned his wheel in the road, and rode slowly back, keeping close within the shadows of the trees, which grew quite densely at that point. He had nearly reached the spot he heard the vebicle come to a stop, and at the same moment he caught sight of it. Running the wheel in out of sight, Jerry moved as fast and as silently as he could back toward the vehicle, taking care to keep himself out of view. Crouching in a thicket he saw a portly man get out of the buggy, lantern in hand, and look along the ground for tracks. At the same moment the bushes moved, and Jack Burnham stepped shrink- ingly out into the road. The man looked up, caught sight of the sorry looking figure of the messenger, and immediately pounced upon him, catching him by the shoulders and giving him a good shake by way of introduction. ‘“Can’t get away from me, you young vagabond!’’ asserted the ccnstable, looking into the face of his prisoner, with the fierce- ness which he was accustomed to assume toward the very hardest customers he was ever called upon.-to arrest. ‘‘What—what have! done? You’ve got the wrong one! [t’s Nimble Jerry that you want, and he’s just gone off on my wheel! Hurry up, and maybe you can catch him with yeur borse!’’ ‘“‘Can’t fool me with any of that sort of talk' I’ve got too good a description of your clothes, and as for your face, anybody could tell that you were a thieving young tramp by that!”’ : Constable Linden had the prisoner by the shoulder, and was dragging him toward his team, Burnham struggled, and held back in vain. The constable was a big, burly man, and he did not lack courage when he was ar- resting a boy, although there were those who were envious enough to declare that he never showed anv great haste in trying to overtake a particularly hardened criminal. ‘‘Wait—wait, can’t you, and let me ex- plain !’’ pleaded the messenger. ‘*Oh, you'll have any quantity of time to explain before we get through with you,”’ said Mr. Linden. The constable was in a very happy mood indeed, and inclined to work up as much of a joke out of the affair as possible for his own entertainment. ‘*Your kind are always wanting to explain. As we ride along I’ll give you my little lect- ure that I always fire at the fellows that get into the same kind of trouble that you’re in. Then when you’re shut up for a month or two ix solitary confinement, you'll have time to think over my words. so as to profit by them when you get free again.’’ By this time Constable Linden had his pris- oner safely seated in his buggy with his wrists handcuffed, and was all ready to drive back to the house. Jerry had got his full measure of enjoy- ment out of the affair, and he now coolly ran Thornton’s wheel out into the road in plain sight of the constable and his prisoner. And, as he sped away into the darkness, he shouted back, in an exultant voice: “Soak it to the thief! Soak it to him!’’ 4470 GoonD CHAPTER XXIV. SEIZED BY THE THROAT. z ORNING dawned in a dismal] sort of way with a promise of rain. ¢ It found Nimble Jerry standing ““SS> near the grounds of the Herkimer Athletic Club, wiping the grime and perspir- ation off his face and neck, and trying in a general way to make himself a little more presentable. On the whole he did not look so very badly, considering that he had been out all night, had been successful in two or three hand-to- hand squabbles, and made a night of it gen- erally. ‘““Now I’ll run up and tell Thorny that I’ve fetched home his wheel, and give him an in- vitation to pay for mine, that his young lackey smashed for me last night,’’ said Jerry, half aloud, with a glance toward the tents of the sporting club. Evidently these New York fellows were not early risers, for it was as silent upon the grounds as it should have been at midnight. she Jerry made his way to Thornton’s tent | }some unfair means got the best of them,’’ without further delay, leading the wheel. The flap which formed a door was open a little way for ventilation, and Jerry coolly pushed’ the wheel in through the opening, and then followed himself. He was greeted by an exclamation of dis- may—and something stronger than dismay, Mr. Mortimer Thornton had apparently just begun his morning toilet. He stared at the wheel first, and naturally expected to see Jack Burnham, the messenger, come in after it. What he did see was Jack Burnham’s out- fit, with Jeremiah Sharpe’s physiognomy. And the combination was rather more than he was in a condition of mind to bear, and remain outwardly calm. ‘*Here’s the top of. the morning to you, Thorny !’’ was Jerry’s salutation. And the vagabondish youth coolly flung himself at full length upon the rattan couch, from which Thornton had just arisen. ‘‘Where in the world did you come from? And with my wheel? What’s happened—can’t you tell me?’’ ‘tT brought home your bike, that’s what happened.”’ ‘*Where did you get it?’’ ‘‘found it in some bushes, where your lackey left it—or rather where it left him. By your lackey, I mean Mr. Jack Burnham, who acts as a dummy for yon and your illus- trious paternal parent, peddling your private messages back and forth.”’ Mr. Mortimer Thornton sank upon one of his camp chairs, his face pale as death. Now that Jerry had a good chance to look at him, he could see that the young man had a very care-worn look. His eyes were sunken, and he seemed to have lost the roundness of face which should have gone with prosperity and good feeding. ‘*You look used up, Thornton,’’ said Jerry, ‘‘¥You must be having some more of those spells at your heart. Perhaps you’ve got all out of medicine!’’ Thornton drew a long breath. ‘‘T’ny about sick, that’s true!’’ ‘“You look it, and if I‘ only felt bad I should be sorry, But do you know that I have a feeling that you’re more’n half to ‘blame? When a young fellow with sucha good chance in life as you’ve got can think of nothing better than trying to crowd an unlucky young tramp like me, then he’s retty sure to be sick. When I feel real ugly ’m always sick, and I guess it’s about the same with everybody else. I bayen’f picked any quarrel with you, and [ started in by doing you a favor. How’ve you thanked me for it? By acting the part of a murderous villain—you and your pompous old daddy! And that makes me think that I had a little interview with your father last night, and I tell vou there was nothing slow about it!’’ Thornton seemed to pull himself together by a strong effort. He did not know how much Nimble Jerry had discovered, but he had a feeling somehow that a house was tum- bling about his ears, If an officer of the law had followed Jerry into the tent, and accused Thornton of an at- tempted murder, that young gentleman would not have been much surprised. But as he realized the imminence of his own danger, he became in a measure indif- ferent to it. When the very worst thing comes to us wesometimes find ourselves more cool in facing it than we have anticipated. He was partly dressed, and he seemed to be in no hurry about finishing. As he looked at Jerry the lines of his face hardened. ‘*Now that he’s bere, | might as well face the music,’’ was his thought. ‘‘There is not much use in trying to lie to him—he’s too sharp to be fooled. and every time I ‘ry it, I only make a bad matter worse. I’ll talk to him good and square, and draw him out.’ ‘*Do you mean to tell me,’’ Thornton said, aloud, ‘‘that you saw my father last night??? * ‘tT saw an old swell that spoke and looked a great deal like you, and as you sent a mes- sage to him by Jack Burnham, and as he was talking about you and me and the rest of us, | took it that he was a near ancestor of yours.’’ ‘*You followed Javk Burnham last night?’’ ‘*Right up close, Thorny. And I cotched | the throat, and flung over upon his back! him, too!’? ‘Did my father see you?’’ ‘*Tf he didn’t then something must have been the matter with his eyes. He didn’t | look very lovingly at me, and he pitched into me like a thousand of brick. I should never have hit him between the eyes if he hadn’t !’’ Thornton sprang to his feet. ‘*Are you making up this yarn? If so, l want to know it!’’ ‘*it?s all straight goods, Thornton. If it hadn’t all happened, I should be very foolish to say that it had. You’ll know more about it when your messenger turns up again. And I expect he’ll do that about as quick as he} can after your old man buys off Constable | Linden, so he’ll let him go.’’ Jerry very calmly described the scene of Jack Burnham’s arrest, and how it all came about. Mortimer Thornton listened to Jerry’s story, and his coolness seemed to increase as our hero went on, ‘*Then I understand from what you say that you followed my messenger last night, played the eavesdropper when he stopped to talk with my father, and when you were dis- covered, you made a fight for it, and by Thornton slowly said. ‘‘Tf you’ve got the face to call what I did unfair, what kind of a name shall I give the tricks that you’ve been playing?’’ To this inquiry Mortimer Thornton vouch- safed no answer. ‘Well, I don’t know as it really matters | much,’’ said Thornton. ‘‘ You knew already that we were likely to have trouble in some | way, and we might as well make an open fight of if now as any day, since that’s what | it was coming to sooner or later. Whatever you may have heard between Jack Burnham | and my father doesn’t matter at all. It can | neither hurt you nor do you any good. One | thing is sure, listeners won’t hear any good | of themselves.’’ ‘*T happened to hear some things that were | good for me, if not so agreeable. I happen to be dead sure now that you and‘your father are together in some sort of an underhand plot against me. And what I’m here for now is to ask you to tell me what it’s all about. I’m going to know, whether you tell me or not.’’ ‘*Tt’s a matter that I shall refuse to dis- cuss with you,’’ was Thornton’s lofty reply. ) ‘* Just as you please about that, old man, only—just mind this: I’ve got my eyes open now, and you want to go pretty slow or you’ll hear something drop, You seem to have plenty of money, and jou can spread ’round fit to kill, but wouldn’t it be queer when the story ended up, if it found me standing in your pale russet shoes, and you | limping ’round with your tender feet in my cowhides? Now I’ll go and leave you and you can lie down here and take a nap and dream about it!’ Jerry got up, and started to go. ‘*Wait a minute,’’ said Thornton, He came over and laid one hand on the young ahtlete’s arm. ‘*You say Jack Burnham smashed your wheel?’’ he asked. ‘* Yes, he smashed it.’’ “Then I'll pay you forit. Better than that, I’ll pay you enough to buy a new one, Anything that money will set right I’m ready to fix up. Nobody shall ever say that I’m mean in money matters.’ Jerry mused a moment, He did not know whether to accept the offer or not. It was hard for him to give up the thought of hav- ing the use of a wheel; at the same time he did not feel that he was in any degree under obligation to his enemy. ‘“ i a. a BAY. . ae i a i a y a 3 — and raised him up. Jeff lec - opened another cellar, used in years gone by e acter than when you play the hypocrite by | pretending to be a gentleman and honest.’’ Barnaby Walthrop bit his lips until the blood nearly came. He felt the cutting re- | mark and realized the truth conveyed in the) words. | ‘‘You have been doing your best to get me into trouble,’? he went on, as there seemed nothing else to say. : ‘‘T fancy you have been trying to get yourself into trouble, Barnaby Walthrop. | An evil doer has generally only himself to blame.’’ ‘*Boy, you know too much!’’ ‘tAnd you attempt too much retorted | Andrew. ‘*You forget that you are now absolutely | in my power.’’ ‘*T forget nothing. I have been in your power before—or rather in the power of your tools, which amounts to the same thing.’’ ‘‘Not quite. They were not careful in| guarding you as I shall be,” : | ‘‘Then you intend to make me a pris-| oner??’ | “T do.?? : ‘*You are carrying matters with a high, hand.”’ ‘*Why not? Matters have reached a crisis. | I always thought you a mere boy, but I find | you have grown to be a young man. Ono of us must win, and the other lose—and I do not intend to be the loser.’’ ‘*What will you do with me?’’ ‘‘T don’t know,’’ replied Barnaby Wal- | throp, and evidently he for once told the| truth. '**Perhaps you will insist I robbed your | safe?’’ went on Andrew, curiously. ‘*So you did.’’ ‘‘T did not. You know as well as I that that was a put up job to get Mr. Lafferty, | of Brooklyn, out of the deal.’’ Andrew was anxious to clear up this part | of the mystery. By the look on his guard- ! ian’s face, he saw that he had hit the truth. But Barnaby Walthrop would not own up to it in so many words. The broker gave the negro directions to bring some ropes, and with these Andrew was tightly bound. ‘‘Now we had better gag him, too,’’ went on Walthrop. ‘‘He may take it into his head | to yell for help.’’ ‘*Let me question him a bit first,’’ broke | in Carson Biltry. ‘‘I want to find out how | he got away from Bison’s place.’’ But Andrew had already made up his mind to remain silent. Try his best, the land-boomer could get nothing out of him. While he was being questioned Andrew edged his way toward the window, which, as previously stated, was opened to admit the air. Suddenly he let out a loud whistle as a summons to Gus Pendrill. The note was cut short by Legrand, who clapped his hand roughly over our hero’s mouth. ‘6A signal!’’ eried Barnaby Walthrop. ‘‘He must have help at hand,’’ put in Carson Biltry. ‘‘Perhaps the police came here with him!’’ At once consternation seized the crowd, The negro remained the calmest of the crowd, ‘‘Tf de perlice is comin’ ye bettah take to dat secret cellar,’’ he suggested. ‘“‘The very thing!’’ said Biltry. on, and bring the boy !"’ He and Walthrop quickly 1)? **Come ragged Andrew the way down A lamp was lighted, and they to a deep cellar from which the stairs. descended as a wine vault. Into this second cellar Andrew was dumped and tied fast to a brick pier. He was left in charge of Legrand, while Jeff, Walthrop, and Carson Biltry hastened above to reconnoiter. ‘ For a long while they could see nobody. Then they discovered Gus Pendrill sitting down at the foot of the palm tree. The sailor was getting anxious. He was not sure if he had heard a signal, it being cut short almost at the instant it reached his ears. He had walked around the old mansion without learning anything about the matter in hand. “There is help, I feel sure,’’ said Wal- throp. ‘‘Who can-he be?’’ ‘¢Tooks like a sailor, but it may be a de- tective in disguise,’’ said Biltry. ‘¢Let Jeff go out and chase bim away.’? The negro was duly instructed, and marched out. ‘See heah, wot you doin’ heah he de- manded. ‘‘Doan’ yo’ know dis am private property?’’ : . ‘*T was only resting,’? replied Pendrill, } hardly knowing how else to reply. ‘‘Well, you go an’ rest somewhar else!’’ retorted Jeff. ‘Why, confound your black face!’’ roared the tar. ‘Don’t talk to me in that fashion !”? And leaping up, he hit Jeff across the face a stinging crack that caused the colored man to yell with pain. But this brought matters to a crisis. The colored man drew a razor from his bootleg, and opening the keen instrument, caused Pendrill to t an inglorious retreat to the |, road. ; ‘“By Davy Jones! If Andy got in such a 99) |aby Walthrop, crowd he must be carved to mince-meat by this time!’’ groaned the sailor to himself, as he scratched his head ruefully. Pendrill did not know what to do. He felt certain that Andrew would either be back very soon or else trouble had befallen him. He walked up the road a few rods and sat down on a rock to await developments. Hardly had the tar _ seated when along came a jolly crowd, loudly to themselves. They were a crowd of sailors ashore from singing |several ships on account of the military They had been | parade and general holiday. GoonD NEWS. | ; | sailor, in astonishment. } | | | | | himself | having a good time, and they were anxious | | that’s sartin.’’ to let every one know it. ‘*By the boots! Gus Pendrill!”’ ‘‘Sam Higginson, or I’m a shouted Pendrill. The two men were old chums, and had not seen each other for years. 19? sinner ! For the mo- } ment Pendrill forgot all about Andrew and | the old mansion so close at hand. Unfortunately, the sailors bad brought | plenty of liquor along with them. Before Pendrill could explain the situation he was treated «nd introduced alJ around. ‘*Come with us, matey !’’ shouted Higgin- | son. And he threw his arms about Pendrill’s neck. **T can’t,’’? began the tar. ‘*Come with us!’?’ ; ‘This is a holiday, with plenty to eat and to drink !’’ ‘I must——’?’ | In vain Pendrill remonstrated. The crowd | would not listen. He was treated again, and|enemy,’’ put in the sailor who had first finally they dragged him off, too excited | spoken to Andrew. and bewildered to make them understand what he was endeavoring to do. The men in performance with great satisfaction. ‘‘Only a half-drunken sailor,’’ said Barn- ‘*And now we are clear of him.”’ Nevertheless, Jeff was placed on guard, with instructions to give warning at the ap- proach of any one who was unknown. In the himself in the cellar, The lamp had been placed on a near-by chair, but this only ser'ved to intensify the gloom. In vain he tried to break his bonds. They held well, and he could not budge them. Hour after hour went by, and still he was left alone. At first he grew thirsty, and then hungry, ; but no one brought him food or drink. ‘*Maybe they intend to starve me to death,’’ he thought, grimly. At last, when he fancied he could stand it no longer, Jeff appeared with some bread and milk and a pitcher of water. ‘*Eat hearty, boss,’’ he said, and grinned in a peculiar manner. ¢ Andrew complied; never dreaming that the food had been doctored. But soon he realized the truth. Every- thing appeared to taste queer, and finally he had to eject a mouthful of the bread. ‘*You have poisoned me!’’ burst from his lips, and then his eyes closed and he fell back in a dull stupor. Although he did not know it; that condi- tion of mind and body remained for over ten hours. , He came to himself to discover that h was rolling from side to side in a berth on | some vessel, ‘‘We are bound for Rio Janeiro, South America,’’ he heard some one say, and then he again lost. consciousness. CHAPTER XXXII. ADRIFT ON THE ATLANTIC. NHE first thing Andrew realized when > he again came to himself was that he had a fearful headache. The next was that he was sick at the stomach. He tried to sit up, but the first and second attempts were failures. meanwhile Andrew was left to, } ‘ ae the old mansion watched this | ae NO ta anemone amreareen aerann 4471 ‘*How did ye come here!’’ exclaimed the ‘*Tt’s you as ought to give an account o’ yerself, my hearty! I found ye snoozin’ in the Lerth after we had pulled up anchor.’? ‘‘T was drugged and brought on board, I imagine,’’ said Andrew, slowly. His head felt rather thick still. ‘*Was, eh? Well, the captain had nothin’ to do with it, that’s sartin,’’ ‘¢Somebody had, though.’’ **T suppose, onless ye drifted on board while under the influence 0’ licker.’’ **T don’t drink.’’ ‘*Well, there was something wrong of ye, ‘*f tell you I was drugged.’’ ‘*Who drugged ye?”’ ‘*‘A man who wanted to get rid of me.”’ **Humph !’? ‘Bosty ! ‘Come up on deck!’’ The cry came from above, and the old sailor left Andrew’s side, to be gone a good half-hour. When feeling much easier. He was accompanied he came back he found our hero | by another sailor and the captain of the | craft, ‘‘A ‘stowaway, eh?’’ cried Captain Spanker, wrathfully. ‘*‘How dare you come it over me, young man?’’ ‘‘T am no stowaway—in the ordinary sense of the word,’’ returned Andrew. ‘‘I did not bring myself on board.’’ ‘*Well, who did bring you on the Hornet?’? | |stant hurled bodily over the vessel’s side ‘‘He says as how he was drugged by an The captain looked incredulous. Andrew saw at once that he was innocent of wrong- doing. Whatever Barnaby Walthrop had ac- complished had been without Captain Spanker’s knowledge. ‘‘Come to the cabin; I will hear your story,’’ said the captain. Andrew accompanied him out of the fore- castle. Hecould scarcely steady himself, and willingly took the arm the captain offered him. ‘*T can see you are not of the common run of young chaps who ship,’’ remarked Cap- tain Spanker, when they were seated in the cabin of the Hornet. ‘‘Now tell me your | story.’’ ‘*Let me ask one question first, please,’’ returned Andrew. ‘*Do you know Barnaby Walthrop or Carson Biltry?”? The captain shook his head. ‘*Never heard the names before.’’ ‘Or a man named Legrand?’ ‘‘Utter strangers to me.’’ Without another word Andrew told his story—told it from beginning to end. The captain ef the Hornet proved a close and interested listener. ‘‘ A strange tale, lad, strange indeed. But I believe you. It was this Barnaby Walthrop who had you drugged and brought on board of the Hornet.’’ ‘*Tt must be so.’? ‘*He must have had some object in it.’’ ‘‘He wanted to get me out of the country.’ ‘*Well, you are bouhd out of the country, sure enough.”’ ‘‘Do you not intend to make a stop some- where? Say, at Cuba, or some other | island?’’ ‘*No, revolution, and we don’t want to get into any trouble with the Spanish gunboats. We shall make a clean run to Rio Janeiro.’’ ‘‘Then I will have to make the entire trip,’’ cried Andrew, is considerable dismay. ‘*T am afraid so, my lad.’’ ‘*Perhaps we may pass a vessel bound for some American port.’’ ‘*Possibly. If we do, I’ll see if I can put you on board.’’ The two talked for a long while after this, but it was all to no purpose. Finding Andrew was well off, Captain Spanker agreed to provide him with a berth off of the main cabin, one usually filled by The third time he was successful, and|a supercargo who had not accompanied the gazed about him curiously. He was in the forecastle of a large sailing vessel. Everything around him was close and stuffy, and he soon realized that the smell of tar and oakum made him as sick as did the rolling and pitching of the ship, Slowly it dawned over him that he bad been drugged and taken to the vessel by his guardian, and then he remembered that some one, had said something about Rio Janeiro, South America. ‘*Can it be possible that the ship is bound to that port?’? he thought. ‘*When will I ever get back again?’’ He sat up in the berth quarter of an hour before any one came to him. ‘*Come around, have ye?’’ It was an old sailor who addressed him. He came in all out of breath, his sun- browned chest open to the air. ‘*Thought ye wasn’t comin’ around at all,’? he went on, ‘‘What’s the matter of @??? ‘*That is what I would like to know,’’ re- turned Andrew. ‘‘How long have I been on board?’’ ‘‘Since we sailed this morning.”’ ‘‘What time is it now?’?’ ‘Nearly sundown.’’ ‘*What vessel is this?’? ‘‘The Hornet, Captain Spanker.’’ ‘How did I come here?’’ ship on this trip. The talk was listened to eagerly by the | second mate of the Hornet, although neither Andrew nor Captain Spanker knew the man was within hearing. This second mate wasa tall, powerful man named Lee. He was a villain at heart, and well-known to Carson Biltry. It was Biltry who had spoken to Barnaby Walthrop of Lee, and the position he occu- pied on the Hornet. Through Biltry, Barnaby Walthrop man- aged to have a long interview with tae The rascally second mate quickly agreed to help get Andrew on board of the vessel. ‘*And give me five hundred dollars and you’ll never hear of the boy again,’’ he said to Barnaby Walthrop. ‘*No more pay in advance,’’ replied Wal- throp. ‘‘But my word is good.”’ An understanding was at last effected, and while Andrew was under the influence of the drug administered by Jeff, the negro, be was smuggled on board the Hornet by | Biltry and Lee. ‘*Going to have a fine time and be put on a vessel going back, eh?’’ muttered Lee to himself. ‘‘Well, not if I know it.’’ The thought that they might sight some inward bound ship the very next morning | worried the second mate. We would have stopped at several ; places, but the islands are in a state of} He realized that Andrew might escape him if allowed his own way that long. He accordingly determined to watch his opportunity and put a plan he had conceived in operation before daybreak. It was his watch on deck at midnight. Captain Hornet had retired, and the first mate was dewn in his berth with a broken leg. In the darkness he aroused Andrew by a light tap on his door. Our hero was not asleep, and he at once responded. ‘*Come on deck, please, there is news for you,’’ whispered Lee, outside of the door. He spoke in a disguised voice, and walked away without waiting for a reply. Wondering what was up, Andrew dressed himself and went on deck. He imagined that Captain Spanker had sent for him, and accordingly made his way | aft. Lee stood by the rail, muffled up in a heavy pea-jacket. ‘*Where is Captain Spanker?’’*asked our hero, as he approached the scond mate. ‘‘Just gone forward,’’ replied Lee, ‘‘He said for you to wait here a few minutes.’’ ‘t All right.”? ‘See that light above?”’ second mate. Andrew looked up. As he did soa cloth was flung over his face and tied behind his head. Then he was raised up, and the next in- went on the into the broad Atlantic Ocean! (TO BE CONTINUED.) ——_—__+--4—_—___—_ NO MORE DUNNING. The landlady of a certain medical student, who ineffectually dunned her delinquent tenant for some time, resolved at last upon resorting to extreme measures. She entered his room one morning, and said,.in a very decided tone: ‘*You must either pay me my rent, or be off this very day.’’ : ‘‘T prefer to be off,’’ said the student, who on his side was prepared for the en- counter. ‘*Well, then, sir, pack up directly.’’ ‘‘T assure you, madame, I will go with the utmost speed, if you will assist me.”’ ‘*With the greatest of pleasure.’’ The student thereupon went to a ward- robe, opened a drawer, end took out a skeleton, which he handed to the woman. ‘‘What is that?’’ asked the landlady, re- coiling a little. ‘*That! Oh, that is the skeleton of m first landlord. He was inconsiderate enoug} to claim the rent for three quarters that I owed him, and then—— Be careful not to break it; it is number one of my collection.’? The landlady was growing visibly pale. The student opened a second drawer, and took out another skeleton. ‘“‘This—this is my landlady in South street; a very worthy woman, but who also demanded the rent of two quarters. Will you place it upon the other? It is number two.’”? The landlady opened her eyes widely. ‘‘This,’’ continued the student, ‘‘this is number three. They are all here, A ve honest man, and whom I did not pay either. Let us pass on to number four.’?’ But the landlady was no longer there. She had fled. -+~<~——_—___—_——. A LESSON IN FRACTIONS. ‘“Now, boys,’’ said the teacher, ‘‘I have a few question in fractions. Suppose I had a piecesof beefsteak, and cut it into two pieces, what would those pieces be called?’? ‘‘Halves!’? shouted the class. ‘Correct. And if I cut each half into two pieces?’?’ ‘*Quarters!’? ‘*That’s right. each cut in half???’ ‘*Kighths !?? **Quite so. two???’ **Sixteenths!”? ‘‘Very good. And when the sixteenths were cut what would .those pieces be called?”’ Here there was a little hesitation, but ina moment two boys said: **Thirty-seconds!’’ ‘‘Just right, just right,’’ said the teacher. ‘* And now we will chop those in half. What have we now?’’ Silence followed ‘this question, while the boys shifted uneasily, and the teacher held his breath. ‘“‘Do none of you know?’’ inquired the young man, ‘‘Come, I’m sure that some one can tell me.’’ There was a moment’s pause, then a hand was raised, and the smallest boy in the class piped out: ‘¢Please, sir, I think I know.’’ ‘‘Well, Johnnie, what?’’ ‘‘Mince-meat,’’ said the youngster, and there was a burst of laughter.. And if the quarters were And if those were chopped in —_———_~>_+—<>___—_ First’ Irishman—‘‘Pat, p’what is a ven- triloquist?”’ Second Irishman—‘‘ Why, a man what stands at one side of the street and talks to himself at the other.’’ GoonD ISSUED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, SEPTEMBER 14, 1895. Terme to Good News Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE FREE.) 3months - - - - - 65c.|One Year - - - - - $2.50 4months - - - - - 8c. | 2copies, one year- - 4.00 6mouths - - - - $1.25! Leopy, two years - -, 4.00 Goop News AND N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50 How ‘vo SEND Money, By post-office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk, if sent by postal note, currecy, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. RENEWALS.—Lhe number indicated on your address label denotes wheu your subscription expires. All subscriptions will be stopped promptly at expiration of time paid for. . Receipys.— Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of 2mber on your label. If not cor rect you have not been properly credited, and should let us knvaw at once. ; ‘Yo CLub Ratsens.—Upon request we will send sam- ple copies to aia you in obtaining subscribers. : AGENTS.—Our responsibility for remittances applies oily to such as are sent to us direct, and we wi 1 not wnavantee the reliability of any subscription agency «x postinaster. All letters should be addressed to STREET & SMITIVS GOOD NEWS, 27 & 29 RoseStreet, N.Y. Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be obtained from your Newsdenlers. If they do uot have them please send direct to this oflice and we will supply them by mail on receipt of price. Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line. Contents of this Number. SERIAL STORIES. “Slaves to Savages,” by J. Spencer Mur- “ays “The Fighting Lads of Devon,” by Alfred Armitage. “By Pluck Alone,” by Harvey Hicks. “The Rival Canoe Boys,” by St. George Rathborne. “Boats, Bats and Bicycles,” by Ernest A. Young. “For His Honor’s Sake,” by Walden F. Sharp. “That Coon ’Rastus,” by **Peter.” SHORT STORIES. “The Mystery of Precontal,” by E. S. Stuart. “Ralph Deddington’s Ride,” by C. Ed- wards. “The Monkey’s Vengeance,” by J. I. Adams. “Young Clarke's Revenge,” by W. L. Sum- mers. » REGULAR DEPARTMENTS. “Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur Sewall. ; ‘“‘“How to Do Things,” by David Parks. “Our Stamp Album.” “Mail Bay,” “Exchange Department,” “Club Notices,” ete. NEXT WHEE. ene Gi penne The Great Yachting Story, full of fasci- nating descriptions of the struggles for the America’s Cup, a subject which is now of supreme interest on both sides of the water. Be sure and read CENTER-BOARD JIM; OR, THE Secret of the Sargasso Sea. BY LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY. + e-e —____ ATTENTION, BOYS! What do you think of the letter ‘‘o” guess- ing contest ? It’s a good one, isn’t it? Well, we’ve gota surprise for you next week that is even better than that. It is, without exception, the greatest offer ever made by any boys’ paper! Watch for the announcement next week, and tell all your friends to-do the same. LETTER ‘‘O” GUESSING CONTEST Magnificent Prizes GIVEN AWAY TO Successful Guessers Read Carefully the Following Terms: To any reader of this paper who shall, at | any time on or before October 10, 1895, send us the nearest correct guess of the com- bined number of times the letter ‘‘o” (in any size or style of type, capitals and italics included) will be contained in all the printed matter that will appear in the first column of the second page of ten issues of this paper, numbered 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, and 288, we will give A First-Class, High-Grade Bicycle! For the second nearest guess we will give A Gold- Filled Hunting - Case Watch, Waltham Movement! For the third, A Solid Silver Hunting - Case Watch, Waltham Movement! For the next twenty nearest guesses we will give A Printing Outfit, containing about twelve alphabets of type, a three-line holder, self-supplying ink, pad, tweezers, quads, etc. Guess the fotal for the ten issues—not a separate guess for each issue. Only ordinary reading matter will be put in the first column of the second page in the ten issues, the same as if no guessing were going on. No one knows in advance what reading matter will appear in these columns, not even the editor. An official count will be made, and the result given as soon as possible after the last of the ten issues is published. The only condition of entry for the prizes is that you send the coupon, found be- low, with every guess. The time of mail- ing will count—not the time of receipt. Remember the competition closes October 10, 1895, and after that no guess can be for- warded. Cut out the coupon you find on this page, and send it to us with your guess, name, and full address clearly written. You can guess as many times as you have coupons. Of course, if you should take up a news- paper or book, and find out to your satisfac- tion how many times a given letter appears in any page or column of a certain size, it is quite easy for you, with a little calculation, to also maké a guess (more or less correct, according to the correctness of your judg- ment) of the number of times any partic- ular letter will appear in a given number of pages or columns of a certain size, even if you do not actually see more than one of them. For instance, if you get a right idea of the number of times the letter ‘‘o” occurs in the first column of the second page of this issue of this paper, you can estimate how many timnes the same letter is likely to occur in the same column in nine future numbers of this paper, without your waiting to see those future numbers before you make your guess, We invite all of our friends to take part in this grand Prize Competition. Large prizes may be secured by those who are the most clever, and use the greatest care. We offer all our readers a remarkable oppor- tunity to win handsome prizes. My guess for the letter ‘‘o” is RRL TAVAOGs Sess GAR Ts eae Ie ie Ba ee: Cite) cmd State 10360 veces bb iia as (Cut this out, fill in the blank spaces, and } mail to LETTER “O” ConTKST, GOOD NEws, 29 Rose Street, New York city.] NEW S. SHORT ALKS = WITH {HE Bors. EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL. REIS BE ESS oD, 2 i * Sj URING the last few weeks I have 4S) had several letters from our readers ca asking me how they shall most wise- “> ly fill up their spare time, and whether [ think hard work at books good after a severe day in the office or at school. In reply, I want to say a word or two about the best manner in which to spend your idle evenings. There was never a wiser saying than ‘‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’’ But you don’t want to overdo either work or play. Don’t play enough to make a molly- coddle of yourself; don’t work too hard to rub all the dash and go out of your bones. Wise play is what everybody wants. Lads who stick atthe tail-end of a pen all day long don’t want a book all the evening. What they want is a lathe or a box of tools. They have used their heads for a time; for a change they should employ their muscles. Similarly, boys who have been fighting with hard engineering work, for instance, all day, have used their muscles Jong enough. They can take to an interesting story, or find | in the study of a language pleasure and ad- vantage. Neither manual nor head labor should be pursued night and day. Music again, provided a boy has a taste for it, is a capital relief, both for brain and body work. lam agreat advocate of a boy having some ‘‘fad,’’ not only for the pleasure he will obtain from it in hours that would other- wise hang heavily on his hands, but because of the knowledge he will gain. You never can tell where knowledge may not step in. A curious instance of this oc- eurred when the British were marching on Tel-el-Kebir. Much depended on their reach- ing the enemy’s lines before the dawn broke, and without being observed. Between them and Arabi’s troops, however, lay the track- less desert, across which, if they once blun- dered in their route, it would be impossible to march in time to deliver the intended as- sault. At this juncture a young officer stepped forward. He knew astronomy. With the commander’s permission, he would act as guide, and could find his way by aid of the stars. Here, knowledge was stepping in. Silently and cautiously, the brigade prepared for its plunge into the unknown gulf of dark- ness before it, somewhere in the middle of which was the position they were to storm. With the young lieutenant at its head, the column swung out into the night, as sure of the road as if its course had been mapped out by a long line of gas-lamps, and was led up to within a yard of the exact position which it was necessary to gain. Knowledge had stepped in, and a science, learned per- haps for pastime, proved of incalculable use. FRED. CHARLES, Friendship, N. Y., writes: ‘“‘T would like to ask if West Point is a good school for getting a practical civil engineering course. I wonld like to go there to get the physical training and discipline. I have a liking for the profession, and also for the professiou of anauthor. Iam16 years of age, but have a fair education, having a diploma of the Friend- ship High School, and also a New York Re- gents’ Academic diploma. There is nothing I like so much as reading and studying. I have, to use the words of the poet Lowell, read everything, from Plato to Zola. I like to read the old classics, being able to read French, German, and Greek, and a little Latin, There is no study that ['dislike, and only one pro- fession that I do not like, and that is the pro- fession of a lawyer. I have already written some short sketches for different story papers. Which course would you advise me to take, classical or scientific; and which profession adopt, that of an author or of acivil engineer?” If you wish to make a comfortable living, my advice to you, by all means, is to be- come a civil engineer rather than turn your attention to literary pursuits. Where one suc- ceeds as an author, hundreds fail. By fail, I mean, barely manage to keep body and soul together. A more than average education is an abso- lute essential to an author, and it takes a long time and constant practice before one can write even acceptably. The paths of literary men are strewn with disappoint- ments. Even in the case of genius, it is long uphill work before recognition comes. Some of the greatest authors the world has known have had their manuscripts rejected again and again, and have met with failure after failure before they found their efforts crowned with success. All successful authors, and, as I have said, the successful ones, are in the vast minority, have had their long probations of trial and disappointment, and it is mainly because we do not know, or because the author has chosen to hide his early experiences that we are apt to think of famous authors as leaping into fame without difficulty or hard work. But all this need not prevent you from occupying your leisure hours in writing. In fact, I strongly advise you to do so. Jt will be capital occupation for you, and, 1f you have the divine spark, it is bound to blaze < forth some day and produce something which will set the world on fire. You are rather young to have read every- thing from Plato to Zola, and perhaps it would be well to have some person older and of more experience direct your reading into such paths as would be most advantageous to you. You seem to have the right ambition, however, and I congratulate you on what you have already accomplished. I scarcely think West Point would be the best place to go, to study civil engineering. It is primarily a place for the training of soldiers. Better go to some college, or insti- tute of technology, where there are good courses in that branch of study. You will find in previous numbers of Goop Nrws full information in regard to the calling of a civil engineer. W. J, H., National Military Home, Ohio, writes: ‘fam thinking of becoming an actor, ani for that reason I write to find out which way I should proceed. [ have a good voice, and can sing falsetto, soprano, and baritone with ease, and would like to travel with a comic opera. Please answer through your columns, and tell me the most likely way to secure an engagement.” If you have a géod voice, as you say, and some knowledge of music, there is no reason whatever why you should not obtain, with- / out much difficulty, the position you desire. Voice is the chief, and, in fact, perhaps the only recommendation necessary to a chorus singer. Apply to the manager of any comic opera company, of which there are a large number now preparing to go out for next season. If your voice proves satisfactory, you will probably be able to obtain an engagement at a salary of say fifteen dollars a week. After you have gained some experience, you will doubtless be intrusted with small parts, and, after that, everything depends upon your- self. Francis Wilson, Henry Dixey and the vast majority of the successful people in comic opera, began in the most humble posi- tions, and, what they have accomplished, you can, if you are possessed of the necessary ability and perseverance. lt might be a good idea for you to write to some of the theatrical agencies in New York, the advertisements of which you will find in the dramatic papers, stating your abilities as a singer, and what you desire to obtain. SprciaL Notice.—Many communications, improperly addressed to this department, are answered in the ‘‘Mail Bag.’’ — ee GETTING AT THE ROOT OF THE MAT- TER, Johnny Wiseman was six years old, and his father, thinking that something must be wrong when he was told that his only son and heir knew less than most boys half his age, accordingly walked him off to the vil- lage school. The examination by the head master with its results was as follows: Master (holding up a large printed copy of the alphabet and pointing to the letter L)—‘‘What letter is this?’’ Johnny—‘‘I don’t know.’’ ‘*It is letter L, Johnny.”’ ‘*Who told you so?”’ ‘*‘Why I learned that when I was quite a little boy.”? ‘* Yes, but who told you?’’ ‘*My schoolmaster did.’’ ‘Oh, who told him?”’ ‘His schoolmaster, of course!’ ‘* And who told him?”’ ‘‘Why, his schoolmaster, I suppose.’’ ‘‘Then how do you know that that old stupid didn’t tell a lie?’’ The head master passed Johnny over to a teacher. ~~ 0 APOLOGETICAL. ‘*Wx hopx,’’ recently said a leading article in a Western paper, apologetically, ‘‘that our rxadxrs will pardon thx appxarancx of this wxxk’s ‘Intxlligxnexr,’ and thx sxxm- ingly mystxrious absxncx of a cxrtain Ixt- txr. Shooting Sam Bibbxr yxstxrday camx into our officx and allowxd that as hx was going shooting, and had no ammunition. hx would likx to borrow somx of our typx for shot. Bxforx wx could prxvxnt it, hx had grabbxd all thx lxttxrs out of thx most im- portant box and disappxarxd. Our sub- scribxrs can hxlp in rxplxnishing our stock, if all thosx who wxrx shot by Sam will savx thx chargx whxn it is pickxd out of thxm and rxturn it to us. Nxvyxr mind if it is battxrxd a littlx.”’ +> 0 IT MADE A DIFFERENCE, ‘“‘Tf you eat one apple now and another ten minutes later, what will that make?”’ asked the teacher. ‘*Two,’? responded the young mathema- tician. ‘‘Then if you eat two more, what will that make?’ ‘*Four.’? ‘*Then three more; what will that make?”’ The boy hesitated a moment. ‘Green or ripe?’’ he inquired. ‘‘What difference is that?’’ teacher, in surprise. ‘*A good deal,’’ responded the boy. ‘‘If they’re green, three more’ll make me have a pain.’ ' asked the Pee ll — oe | — — co Jd ees SS a GOOD NEWS. 4473 [This Story Wil] Not be Published in Book-Form, ] BY PLUCK ALONE; OR, RALPH NELSON’S UPWARD STRUGGLE. BY HARVEY HICKS, of the Zero Club.” ‘That an’t so,’’ replied the aristocratic bully, glibly. ‘‘I didn’t jump at all.’’ ‘You didn’t?’’ ‘*No, I was pitched out. I stood up to get a better hold on the reins, and just then the carriage lurched, and out I went,’’ ‘‘Oh, well, then, that’s different,’’ replied Dan Pickley, who did not think it to his ad- vantage to question the veracity of Percy’s explanation. ‘‘Mrs. Carrington seemed to think you had jumped out because you were scared,’’ **And did her daughter seem to think so, too??’ asked Percy, his anxiety increasing. ‘*T don’t know but what she did. You had | better hunt them up and explain matters.’’ said Pickley, thinking he must| ‘‘I will. I suppose the reason they didn’t say something in favor of the squire’s son. come back for me is because they were in a Ralph and Sanderson had their own opin- | hurry to get to Eastport and see Mr. Carring- = ion of Percy, and they did not care to argue oe ALPH was much surprised to learn| with Pickley on the subject. The young that Percy Paget had been in the|bridge-tender went back to his work, and | .\ carriage. Sanderson shuffled off to go at an odd job of | ev ‘‘Was he hurt when he boat mending. Pickley sat down to count the | out?’’ he asked of Mrs. Carrington. tolls as before. ‘‘T am sure I do not know,’’ returned the| Three minutes later Percy Paget came into} such a , Author of ‘The Tour “Tom Truxton’s School-Days,’’ “Mat Merriman {broad,” etc., etc. (“By PLuckK ALONE” was commenced in No. 277. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) | he deserves,’’ : CHAPTER XII. RALPH’S REWARD. ‘““They didn’t say what they were ina hurry about,’’ returned Dan Pickley. Percy saw that Ralph was now approach- ing, and not wishing, for various reasons, to sprang his heel and walked back toward Westville. | lady. | sight. His hands and face were scratched and Ralph could not help but laugh at the dis- ‘‘T don’t think so,’’ put in her daughter, ' his clothing torn. a beautiful miss of six- teen. ‘‘Helandedin the middle of a blackberry bush when he sprang from the front seat. ‘“Then he was driv ing?’’ ‘*Yes, and it was his fault that the team ran Fer away,’’ returned Mrs. Carrington. ‘*T told him they were very spirited, but in order to make them do their best, as he thought, he used the whip upon them.’? ‘*Such a team as that don’t need the whip much,’’ put in old Bob Sanderson, who had come up during the con- versation, followed by Dan Pickley. ‘‘They’re too high-minded.”’ ‘That is just it,’’ said the lady. ‘““It was gritty of Ralph to shut the bridge and stop ’em for you,’’ went on the old man. “Indeed it was!”’ cried Julia Carrington. ‘*T shall never forget your bravery,’’ she went on to Ralph. ‘‘ You have done what many aman would be afraid to undertake.’’ ‘*So he has,’’ put in her mother. ‘‘You are Ralph Nelson, the bridge-tender, I be- lieve.”’ ‘¢Ves, ma’am.’’ ‘‘T used to know your father fairly well. You have his place since he died.’’ ‘*Yes, ma’am—up to the end of this week. Then Mr. Pickley takes it,’? and Ralph pointea to the fellow he had mentioned. ‘‘And what are you going to do?’’ ‘¢] don’t know yet I am going to look for work somewhere.’’ ‘‘] trust you find something suitable.’’ ‘‘I’]l take anything that pays fair wages.’’ ‘‘And how is it you are going to leave here???’ went on the lady, curiously. “T got into a row with Percy Paget. and . his father is chairman of the village board, | AS BEST HE COULD RALPH SWUNG HIS OWN CRAFT AROUND, AND CAME UP UNDER THE STERN OF THE ‘‘See anything of a runaway?’ he cried, | comfiture of the young bully. He had over- and he sided with his son.’’ as he came up to Pickley. | heard a good part of the conversation, and ‘‘] gee.?? Mrg. Carrington bit her lip.| ‘‘Yes, the team was stopped right here,’’ | he was satisfied that Perey was, for once at ‘‘Well, we must be going, Julia,’’ she said | replied the man. | least, more than ‘‘taken down.’’ to her daughter. ‘‘I shall not forget you for| ‘‘Who stopped ’em?’’ On the other hand, Percy was greatly your bravery, Ralph Nelson.’’ ‘*Ralph Nelson.’’ chagrined to learn that Ralph had played “Thank you, ma’am, I only did what was; ‘*‘You don’t mean it?’’ gasped the young the part of the hero. His face grew dark, my duty.”’ aristocrat. and his eyes flashed their bitter hatred. ‘«Tt is more than that. Sees e Ol ‘*Tt’s too bad, that low upstart to stop the you, remember.”’ ‘*Was he hurt??? team !’’ he muttered to himself. ‘‘I wonder The lady re-entered her carriage, and| ‘‘Nota bit.’’ if Julia Carrington spoke to him? Most like- Ralph assisted the daughter to a seat beside} ‘‘I don’t see how he could do it,’’ grum-|ly she did, and now he’ll look at her asa er. bled Percy. ‘‘That team was going like mad.’’ | special friend! It’s a great shame! I’ll have In a moment more they continued on their} ‘‘Soit was. Ralph not only stopped the | to teach him his place if he tries to get too way, leaving Ralph, Sanderson, and Pickley | team, but before that he worked like light- | intimate with her !’’ to gaze after them. | ning to close the draw so that they wouldn't ‘'My, but they’re swell!’’? was Pickley’s | go overboard.’’ comment. ‘‘Il wish I was in your shoes,} ‘‘Humph!’’ mused Percy. ‘‘He must have | Ralph.’? | done it in hopes of a reward. Most likely he | : ‘“‘She won’t forget you, that’s certain,’’ | knew who was in the carriage.’’ | ever could he have witnessed the scene in the Said Sanderson. ‘‘She’ll reward you band-| ‘‘He did.’’ | Nelson cottage that evening, shortly after Some-like, see if she don’t, Ralph.*’ ‘‘What did Mrs. Carrington give bim?’’ | eight o’clock. : I shall not forget hopes in the direction of Julia were more than of the ordinary kind. Percy would have been more bitter than “They don’t seem to care much about ‘‘Nothing. But she said she would not for-| Five minutes before that. time Ralph was Percy Paget’s condition,’’ returned the boy, | get bim.”’ pn _ | Sitting in the kitchen, telling his mother of by way of changing the subject. | ‘*She’ll send him five dollars or something | the stirring event of the day, to which the “Well, who would—under the circum-| like it, I guess. Did she—she say anything | fond parent listened with keen interest. Stances!’? exclaimed the old man, in deép| about me?’’ went on Percy, hesitatingly. | The son had just finished when there came disgust. | ‘‘She said you leaped from the carriage as | a timid knock at the front door. ‘‘Perhaps they don’t give him the credit ‘soon as the team started.’’ ‘*Somebody’s knocking, Ralph,’’ said Mrs. ton before he went off to Chambersburgh.”’’ | encounter the young bridge-tender while in | woe-begone condition, he turned on } All of which went to prove that Percy’s | Nelson. ‘‘Go and light the sitting-room lamp and see who it is.’’ Ralph lit the lamp and then opened the door. Before him stood Mrs. Carrington and her daughter. ‘*Good-evening, Ralph; you did not expect to see me quite so soon, I imagine,’’ said Mrs. Carrington, with a smile, as she stepped in. ‘¢Well, no,’’ stammered the youth. ‘‘Won’t you have a chair?’’ and he pushed a seat for- | ward for the lady and another for her daugh- ter. ‘*Thank you, yes,’’ returned Mrs. Carring- ton. ‘‘Is this Mrs. Nelson?’’ she went on, as | Ralph’s mother appeared. ‘Yes, madame,’’ said the widow. ‘‘Pray, make yourselves comfortable. Perhaps you would prefer a rocker?”’ ‘‘No, we won’t stay but a minute. Has Ralph teld you of his bravery this noon?’? ‘*He said he stopped your runaway team.’’ ‘‘He did nobly, and my daughter and I have come to offer him a slight reward for his gallant deed.’’ E | **l was not looking for a reward,’’ put in | Ralph. ‘*But you deserve one, Ralph, and I trust you will accept what we have brought. Julia!’ ‘*Yes, mamma. Here it is,’? and from be- neath her dress folds Julia Carrington pro- duced a small morocco- covered box. ‘‘Allow me* to present this, Ralph Nelson, with the compliments of my mother and wmyself,’’ she said, turning to the young bridge-tender. She held out the box. ‘*Thank you, but I really didn’t expect anything,’’ stammered Ralph, as he took the offering. ‘‘Open it and let us see the kind gift Mrs. Carrington and her daughter have made,”’ said his mother. There was a catch on one side of the small box. Ralph pressed upon this, and up flew the lid, revealing to his astonished end pleased gaze a small but neatly engraved gold watch, with chain and charm attached. ““A gold cried Ralph. ‘¢And chain and all!”’ added Mrs. Nelson. ‘‘Really, I—I can’t accept this!’’ and Ralph blushed furiously. ‘‘I— ‘*Oh, yes, you can,”’ laughed Julia Carring- ton. ‘‘It is not as much as we think you ought to have, but——’’ ‘*Itis more, Miss Car- rington,’?’ “Do you like it, Xalph?’’ questioned the older lady. ‘*Very much indeed. I have always wanted a good watch. I have been using father’s old one, but that is about worn out and can’t be made to run with much regularity.”’ watch!” CHAPTER XIII. ON KENISCOT LAKE. HE Carringtons Ht remained at the ‘\ Nelson cottage much longer than It was ten o clock the way to where oheir HAY BARGE. | they originally intended. when Ralph lit ) carriage was standing, in charge of a colored | coachman. During the visit the rich folks |asked Mrs. Nelson and Ralph much about | themselves. Julia Carrington proved herself |a very nice young lady, and when she went away Ralph aud his new acquaintance were warm friends. ; ‘“‘They are not stuck up a bit, mother,’’ | said the young bridge-tender, as he returned | to the cottage after seeing them off. | ‘*No, they are very kind-hearted as well las rich,’’? returned Mrs. Nelson. ‘*Would | Westville had more of such.’’ ‘‘What a difference between such folks and the Pagets and the Steiners. Why, Mrs. | Steiner and her daughter Maud wouldn’t |look at us if they stumbled over us on the | street, and neither would Mrs. Paget when | she was alive.’’ ‘‘Well, we must remember that we do not | belong to fashionable society, Ralph. We be- | long to the poorer classes.’’ | ‘So we do, but that doesn’t make it right | for some folks to look at us as if we were | the dust under their feet. I shall not forget | the Carringtons’ kind- ways, nor the beau- 'tiful present they made me,’’ and Ralph | : AAT fell to examining the gold watch and chain anew, It was truly a valuable gift, and the boy | He resolved to! mother of the store-keeper’s offer. was more than delighted. wear it only when he needed a time-piece or | To Uriah Dicks all such matters were ques- tions of dollars and cents, not of justice. When Ralph arrived home he told ‘*Do you think I did wrong in refusing?’’ when he was ‘‘dressed up.’’ It was too good _ he asked. to have about his old clothes constantly. Ralph’s remaining time as_ bridge-tender ‘*No, Ralph, I would have done the same.’’ | ‘tT fancy I can strike a job that will pay } went swiftly by, and on the day set by the | better—anyway, | am going to try.’’ committee he was paid off by Squire Paget | é and Dan Pickley was duly installed in his; and on Monday morning Ralph brushed up | place. ‘‘What are you going to do now?’’ asked | his mother put up for him, and left the cot- tage to try his luck among the stores and fac- | the squire, as he handed over Ralph’s salary. ‘‘T don’t know yet,’’ returned the boy. ‘‘Guess. you’ll find it rather hard to find | work around Westville.’’ ‘*T don’t know. of looking around,”’ ‘Well, I’m sorry for you,’’ went on Squire | luck to you. ‘*T don’t like to see | Paget, hypocritically. any one out of work.’’ ‘Really! It was yourself got me out of the job!’’ retorted Ralph. ‘‘No, it wasn’t, Nelson, it was your own hasty temper. If you hadn’t attacked Percy —but let that pass——”’ ‘¢Percy was in the wrong—I shall always say so——’’ interrupted Ralph. “There you go!’’ snarled the squire. ‘‘I was going to offer you a situation on one of my canal boats, but Isha’n’t do it now, You don’t deserve it.’’ ‘*T do not want any situation from you,’’ replied the boy, with a sudden show of spirit. heal rather find my own employment.’’ ‘‘Going to be pig-headed, eh?’’ ‘*You can call it what you please. You did not treat me fairly, and I guessI can get along without your aid.’’ And without another word Ralph pocketed his pay and walked off. ‘‘A regular young tartar!’’ mused the squire, as he gazed after him. ‘‘He won’t be easy to manage, that’s certain. Too bad I couldn’t get him on the canal boat. I must find some other way of getting him out of | I can’t do} Westville—and his mother, too. much while they are around.’’ Ralph had been paid off at the squire’s office in the village, and now he made his | way to Uriah Dicks’ store, to settle up the family account. ‘s How much do we owe you, Mr. Dicks?’’ he asked, as he walked up to Uriah, who was pouring over a very dirty ledger. ‘‘Oh, so it’s you, Ralph!’’ exclaimed the store-keeper. ‘‘Been up to the squire’s yet?”’ Aad” Be ‘‘Did you get your pay?”’ ac Yes, ? ‘* And now you want to settle up?’’ ‘¢Yes,’’ replied Ralph, for a third time. ‘“‘T hope you an’t a-goin’ to quit tradin’ with me!’’ cried Uriah, in some alarm. ‘‘We are, Mr. Dicks, What can you expect, after the way you have treated me?’’ **T—T couldn’t help votin’ in the commit- tee with the squire and Ben Hooker,’’ re- turned the store-keeper, lamely. ‘‘They said it was a clear case against you.’’ ‘*And therefore you wouldn’t give mea chance to clear myself,’’ said Ralph, bitter- ly. ‘‘How mych is the bill?”’ ‘*Three dollars and nineteen cents. I’ll call it three dollars if you’ll keep on buying here,’’ went on Uriah, desperately. It made his heart fairly ache to see trade going to one of the rival stores. ‘‘T prefer to settle in full,’’ rejoined the boy, coolly. ‘‘Take the three dollars and nineteen cents out of this five-dollar bill.’’ With an inward groan, Uriah took out the amount, handed back the change, and crossed the account from the book. ‘‘Got anything to do?’’ he asked, a sudden idea flashing through his head. ‘“Not yet.’”’ ‘‘T might take you on here—I need a boy.”’ ‘And what would you pay?’’ questioned Ralph, although he knew about what to ex- pect from the miserly man he was addressing. ‘*Well, I’d be willin’ to pay a big boy like you two dollars anda half a week, Tivciid't pay a small boy so much.’? “Thank you, but I wouldn’t work for that, even if I cared to work for you, Mr. Dicks. Two dollars anda half wouldn’t run our house.’’ ‘*T would let you have your groceries at cost,’’? said Uriah, as an extra inducement. The truth was many of his customers had upbraided him for aiding in the discharge of Ralph as bridge-tender, and he wished to set himself right with these folks. ‘*T do not care to work for you, sir. I think I can get work I will like better and which will pay more elsewhere.’’ The store-keeper’s face fell, and he closed the dirty ledger with a slam. ‘*All right, Ralph, suit yourself. you starve to death, don’t lay it at my door, mina that!’ ‘*No fear of my starving,’’ returned the boy, lightly, and he left the store. rial watched him from behind the dirty windows of his place, He heaved a big sigh as he saw Ralph enter the opposition store just across the way, and groaned aloud when the youth came out with half a dozen packages under his arm and started for home, ‘*T guess I put my foot into it when I sided with the squire,’’ he meditated. “‘‘But it had to be done. Anyway, the squire’s trade is bigger than the Nelsons’, so I’m better off than I might be,’’ and thus consoling him- self, he went back to his accounts, But if | Sunday of the weels passed quietly enough, | his every-day clothes, took along the lunch d ? > tories in Hastport, | night, mother,’’? he said. ‘‘I may strike a I haven’t had any chance | situation in which they wish me at once.”’ | ‘*All right, Ralph,’’ she returned. ‘‘Good » But Ralph did not get to Eastport that day. As he was crossing the bridge a young 'man on a small sailboat hailed him. IJt was | Roy Parkhurst, a fellow Ralph knew well. | **Hallo, Ralph!’’ he called out, ‘‘The job /on the bridge and you have parted company, | I am told.”’ ‘*Yes, Roy.’’ ‘Doing anything to-day?’’ ‘*No, I was just bound for Eastport to look -for work.”’ ‘*‘Then you are just the fellow I am _ look- ing for,’’ said Parkhurst. ‘What for?’? ' ‘‘T want to sail down to Martinton and have this boat taken back here. If you’ll undertake the job I’ll give you a dollar.’’ ‘*T’]l go you,’’ returned Ralph, promptly. ‘*T can put off looking for another situation until to-morrow.”’ ‘*Then jump in.’’ Parkhurst ran his boat close to the bridge, and Ralph sprang down on one of the seats. Soon the two were moving down Silver Lake at all the speed the little craft commanded. It was a splendid day, with a stiff breeze blowing, and by noon Martinton was reached. Then, giving Ralph directions as to where the boat was to be left in Westville, Roy Parkhurst quit the boat, and, having eaten his lunch, the boy started on the return, ‘never dreaming of the excitement in store | for him. CHAPTER XIV. A STORMY TIME ON THE LAKE. Vous his father before him, Ralph J t/ had always liked the water. He was <4 perfectly familiar with the handling G=” of all manner of small craft, and, had it paid, would have liked nothing better than to follow a life on the lakes. But situations on the water which brought in a fair remuneration were scarce in the vicinity of Westville, and so the boy did not attempt asearch for employment in that | direction, The half-day’s job before him suited him exactly, and after leaving Martinton he set- tled back with his hand on the tiller and his eyes on the sails in great satisfaction, ‘‘T wouldn’t mind owning a boat like this,’’ he thought, as the swift little craft ,cut along through the water. ‘‘Perhaps I might do very well taking out pleasure par- , ties during the summer.’’ | Inside of half an hour Martinton was left far behind. Then Ralph noted that the fair | sky was gradually becoming overcast. ‘*] wonder if we are going to havea | blow,’’ he soliloquized. ‘‘It more than half | looks like it.”’ About quarter of an hour later the breeze died out utterly. This was a bad sign, and the boy prudently lowered the jib and took a couple of reefs in the mainsail. Presently came a low rumble of thunder ' from tthe south-east, and the sky grew darker and darker. There was no longer any doubt that a severe thunderstorm, preceded possi- _bly by a squall, was close at hand. Unwilling to take any risks in a boat not | his own, Ralph lowered the mainsail entire- |ly. Hardly had he done so when a fierce | wind swept up the lake—a wind that present- | ly raised itself almost to a hurricane, The lightning began to flash all around | him, followed by crasb after crash of thun- | der. The water was churned up in great vio- lence, and he was compelled to crouch low _in the craft less he be swept overboard and drowned. Driven by the wind, the boat moved across | the lake, until Ralph grew fearful that she | would be driven up on the rocks and made a | complete wreck. At the risk of losing some |eanvas he let out the mainsail a bit and | steered from the shore. The rain came down by the bucketful, and , it did not take much to soak him to the skin. ; There was no way of protecting himself; he must take it as it came. Fortunately it was | warm, so he did not suffer so much as he | might otherwise have done, | A half-hour passed, and Ralph was just congratulating himself that the worst was ‘over, when a cry came out of the gloom to his left, He strained his eyes in the direction, and after a few moments caught sight of an im- mense hay barge bearing down upon him. The hay barge had been towed by a steam tug, but the rope had parted, and the barge / was now drifting at the mercy of the wind and current. CrcgOle ‘*Don’t be alarmed if I am not home until NEW S. There was a man on the hay barge, thor- oughly frightened, and it was he who was his | crying for assistance. ‘Hallo, there! What’s the matter?’’ cried | Ralph, as he steered clear of the moving mass, for the hay barge was loaded to the | water’s edge. ‘*Help me!’’ cried the man. |alone on this barge.’’ | ‘*Where is the tug?’? ‘‘T don’t know. I fancy she struck ona |rock, for we lost our reckoning and ran too | close to shore.’’ ‘‘T don’t see how I can help you,’? re- ‘*My boat won’t. budge that ‘*lam all | turned Ralph. | big barge.’’ ‘*Then take me on board, will you,’’ re- turned the man, with a shiver. ‘‘I an’t used ? to being out in the wind and rain. | ‘Yes, [ll take youin. Wait till 1 run up | behind,”’ As best be could Ralph swung his own craft around, and came up under the stern of the hay barge. The man ran from the side and lowered himself onto the bow seat, “There! I’m all right now,’’ he said, as he stumbled back to Ralph’s side. ‘‘What a beastly storm!’’ he went on. “It is, What are you going to do about the barge?’’ ‘*T don’t care what becomes of her,’’ growled the man. ‘‘I was only a passenger on the tug, and went on the barge for fun. Let the captain pick her up as best he can,’’ ‘* But roe want to find the tug, don’t you?’’ asked Ralph, in some surprise. ‘*Not if you will put me ashore. Where are you bound?’? ‘Westville.’ : ‘‘That will suit me first-rate. Take me there, and I’ll pay you the passage money instead of the tug captain.’’ ‘*1’]] take you there without pay,’’ said Ralph. At that moment a steam whistle sounded close at hand, and presently they beheld the steam tug, with the captain on the forward deck, gazing anxiously ahead. ‘‘There she is!’’ cried the man Ralph had picked up. ‘‘We’ll call to the. captain and let him know where his hay barge is,’’ replied Ralph. He accordingly hailed those on the steam tug. Soon the craft was close beside him. ‘*Your barge is off in that direction,’’ said Ralph, pointing with his hand. ‘‘And I am here, captain, and going to stay here,’’ put in Ralph’s passenger. ‘‘No more hay barges for me,’’ ‘‘Don’t you want to come on the tug?”’ Nay he ‘*All right then, suit yourself.’’ And the next moment the steam tug shot out of sight, in the direction in which the hay barge was drifting. The storm now let upa bit and Ralph was able to take a good look at the fellow beside him. He was a tall, strong-lodking chap, with sharp black eyes, and a heavy head of dark hair. He wore a long mustache, and there was a slight scar directly in the center of his forehead. ‘‘What’s your name, youngster?’’ he asked, presently, as Ralph let out the main- sail. Ralph told him. , ‘¢Mine is Dock Brady. Iam a surveyor from Utica. Do you follow this sort of thing for a living?’’ ‘*No, sir.?? ‘*Just out for pleasure, eh?’’ ‘*Hardly that, I am returning the boat to Westville for a friend.”’ ‘*Oh, Isee.’? Dock Brady mused for a mo- ment. ‘‘ Westville is quite a place, I believe,’’ he went on. ‘*Not so very large, sir.’’ **Larger than Silver Cove, though?’’ ‘¢Oh, yes—twice as large.’’ ‘*@uite a few summer boarders, eh?’ ‘*Back of the village, yes. There are no folks stopping in the village itself.’’ ‘‘No, but that helps to liven up things of course—buying stuff and mailing letters,"’ He paused again, : ‘Yes, they have to come there for goods, and that makes the stores do very well. And the post-office is a lively enough place as mail times.’’ ‘¢ Always is, when there are summer board- ers around.’’ The man laughed lightly. ‘‘Can Il help you with the boat?’’ he went on, changing the subject. ‘*You can hold the tiller while I hoist the jib,’’? said Ralph. ‘‘The storm is over, I guess.’? The jib was unfurled and the mainsail let out full, and once again the little craft went bounding on her way. Ralph did not take to his passenger’s ap- pearance, and said very little during the re- mainder of the trip. The man also relapsed into silence as if revolving some scheme in his mind. Before sundown Westville was reached. At the bridge the man got off and tossed Ralph a silver dollay, In amoment more he was out ot sight. Little did Ralph imagine under what ex- citing circumstances he and Dock Brady were to meet again, (TO BE CONTINUED.) we OO A two thousand acre farm near the Dela- ware Water Gap is devoted entirely to the cultivation of celery. {This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.,] THE RIVAL CANOE BOYS; With Pack and Paddle on the Nipigon, BY ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE, Author of “Reckless Carl,’”’ ‘The Gulf Cruisers,’’ etc. ie oe (“THE Rrvyat CANOE Boys” was commenced in No. 275. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) achninanpiiemaiitniane CHAPTER XXIV. HOMEWARD BOUND. S74 ARL acted from impulse when he 1 threw himself past the epening of the 2\/ tent in such haste. He had not the remotest idea as to the identity of the figure that preceded him, but evidently thought it was Bob, wrestling with some delirium. As he gained the open air he found him- self close to the slumbering fire, and gave it a kick that immediately started the flames into new life. With the illumination thus afforded he had no trouble in seeing around him. A man’s figure was just disappearing among the bushes. To Carl’s amazement, there was something familiar about this party, but it was not Bob upon whom he gazed. What did Amos Turner want here—was there any need of asking the question? Carl’s fears arose and almost choked him. Bob, his friend, had cried for help—could this guide in a spirit of vindictive rage have crawled into the tent to vent his spite upon Bob, or was his mission in connection with the papers? At any rate, Carl became very anxious about his companion, and his first act was to crawl into the tent again. Horrible ideas flashed through his mind, and he feared the worst. ‘‘Stand still!’? came in a sharp whisper, and Car] heard what seemed to be the click of a gun-lock near him. ‘‘Hold on, Bob,’’ he said, quickly. ‘Ts it you, Carl?’’ ‘*Yes—the rascal has vamosed the ranch— I saw him leap into the bushes.’g ‘*Let’s go outside.’’ Both crawled through the opening, and the smoldering fire was speedily resur- rected. Carl immediately turned his eyes on his companion. Bob had a peculiar look on his face, and his necktie was up under his ear, as though he had been in trouble, ‘* Are you hurt?’’ asked Carl?’ anxiously. ‘‘Nothing to speak of. That fellow has a clutch like iron, though. He garroted me.’’ ‘*T shall pepper him with shot on sight,”’ declared Carl, with earnestness. ‘*You saw him??? ‘¢ Just as he plunged into the bushes.’’ ‘*Did you recognize him?’’ ‘*Tt was Amos.’’ ‘*] felt sure of it.’’ ‘*You couldn’t see him.’’ ‘‘No, but it struck me that no one else would be searching my pockets for papers.’’ ‘*Did he do that?’’ ‘ ‘Yes. 9 ‘*Bob—did he get the packet?’’ ‘*That’s just what he did.”’ Carl groaned, and then hearing a sound as of merriment, looked up to see a broad grin upon his companion’s face. ‘*You don’t appear to take it much to heart,’’ he exclaimed, in deep wonder. ‘*Why, no. I feel all right, thank you.’’ ‘*What’s the meaning of this—let me hear your secret, Bob,’’ the other cried, eagerly. ‘tA little forethought, old fellow. An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure any day, You see, I anticipated just such an emergency.’’ ‘Oh, you did, eh?”’ ‘*And provided for it by removing the one valuable paper from the packet and secreting it on my person, What Amos stole doesn’t amount to a row of pins,’’ Carl was delighted. He slapped bis companion on the back, and congratulated him upon such shrewd business qualifications, Amos believed he had done a big thing. It was to be hoped the dude would not examine the packet too closely, but toss it into the fire and believe he bad accomplished the grand business that had brought him into this wilderness. Throwing dull care away to the winds, Bob and Car] made the most of every hour, and the time passed all too quickly. At last came the hour of departs: The must once more head for civilization, Bo was anxious to return, which was, perhaps, quite natural under the circumstances, but with Carl it was a different matter. He ha no sweetheart in distant Sault Ste. Marie, and his love for the woods was intense. The packing was completed, and all 1 readiness for immediate departure, Cat! stood there looking around at each tree which had grown familiar during their stay --it was as though he wished to impress the scene on his mind'so that it could never be eradicated, ‘Good by, old camp!’’ he said at last, —— SS eS SS GroOoD pushed ‘the canoe off, jumped in, seized his addle, and the homeward voyage had egun. CHAPTER XXV. A ORY FROM THE LAKE, ee them to know ’ their mission had proved a success, and T was a satisfaction for i] that they were not returning empty- handed to the haunts of civilization. Thus they glided down the river from Cranberry Lake. It was quite different from working up against the current, and pro- gress was made so rapidly that early on the first afternoon they reached the Nipigon. A good breeze was blowing across the lake, but it was not favorable, so that they had to keep at work with the paddles. As the day began to close in Carl had his eyes about him looking for a good camping ground. Discovering an inviting cove, they landed there and proceeded to make camp. The wind increased in volume, and blew a perfect gale, so that they were glad to be on shore and not upon the lake, where the waves were pitching and tossing, pounding against the bank with the noise of miniature thunder. Just as they were thinking of retiring, Bob came over to where Carl sat, putting the last few words in his diary. ‘¢Listen and see if you hear anything like a shout,’’ he said, earnestly. Carl jumped to his feet instantly. The wind kept up a peculiar roaring among the pines, and this with the regular thunder tones of waves dashing against the shore, made it hard to distinguish any other sound. Then came a lull in the rough voices of nature, and during this period both of them plainly caught the sound of human voices. ‘*Help! help!?? This cry seemed to come from far out on the stormy lake, where the wind and waves were holding high revel. There could be no mistaking the nature of it. Some one was in deadly peril—pethaps battling for life in the midst of the storm-tossed water. Carl became immediately worked up, and turned to his companion, ‘*Bob, you hear that shout, fellow being drown?’’ ‘‘There are more than one—a woman, I am afraid, judging from the second voice,’’ returned Bob, just as excited as his com- panion. ‘There it comes again. I hear what you speak of, but no woman would come up to this region, I am sure. An idea strikes me— it must be Amos and Felix Darling.’’ Bob jumped at the same conclusion, and the more he considered the subject the deeper became his conviction that it was just as Carl said. This did not alter the case with them. Human beings were in danger, and had appealed to them for help, ‘‘Arrange the fire, Bob, so we will have plenty of light,’’ cried Carl, as he began to carry the balance of their traps from the canoe. This was easily done on Bob’s part, for a large pile of wood had been gathered for use during the watches of the night. While the fire burned cheerily, they launched the boat in the little cove, and took their places, ready to battle with the heaving waves. The cries still rang out, and could be heard during each lull in the tumult. ‘*Are you ready?’’ asked Carl. ; ‘*Yes,’’ replied Bob, settling himself for work. ‘‘Then put in your best licks, old fellow.”’ The canvas canoe shot forward, rode the waves like a cork, and «vas speedily out on the stormy lake. Can we let a CHAPTER XXVI, CONCLUSION. HEY had to bring all their strength i. into play in order to keep the canoe Wn :) headed ‘into the giant waves that * tossed and broke all around them; but fortunately they knew how to manage their craft, and progress ‘was made in spite of opposing circumstances. Both kept a bright lookout for the objects of their search. As they advanced the cries grew louder in volume, proving that they were drawing nearer the scene of trouble. ‘‘Can you see them?’’ shouted Bob, who was in the stern of the canoe. The benefit of the glowing fire on shore was made apparent, for Carl answered that he saw some object now and then ahead—it all depended upon when they arose upon a rolling billow. The shouts could be heard, and these served to guide them. As yet the unfortu- nates did not know of their presence near by, for they were still shouting for help. Carl’s answering cheer must bave brought & great joy to their hearts. Then the ad- Vancing canoe burst upon their vision, and they realized that succor had come. As Carl had suspected, it was no other than Amos and his employer, clinging to the Overturned dug-out. No doubt the daring Suide had attempted to cross the lake in Order to save time, and they had been over- | he had managed to put the dude on top of the overturned boat, while he himself clung to it, The sight of the fire had started them to shouting for help, as both were growing weak and chilled. It was a delicate job to get the terrified Felix into the canvas canoe, but they man- aged to accomplish it at last. Amos climbed upon the overturned dug-out, and gave them the painter, for it was decided to tow the boat ashore, as it would be needed. When this had been done, Carl and his companion again plied their paddles. The fire served as a beacon, and after a lively skirmish, they made the friendly cove again. Then the two water-soaked, shipwrecked voyagers sought the fire to warm up and dry their garments. Bob bustled around and got a warm supper for them. When done eating, Amos walked up to the canoe cruisers frankly. part I’ve had in this business. You don’t get me into such a scrape again. After this, if you want the services of one who'll go Amos Turner.”’ Nor was the dude backward about con- fessing repentance—he deplored the that he had already destroyed the papers so valuable to Bob, and wondered how the philosophically. ‘*Never mind; it’ll come out all right, Felix,’’ said that worthy. ‘*By Jove! I tell you what 1’ll do—I’ll wetire from the list. rival to the man who has saved my life,’’ cried the dude. ‘Thanks, old fellow, but don’t do it, If I can’t win a girl fairly and squarely, I don’t want to succeed at all. Give me time, that’s all,’’? was the reply Bob made. As the others believed the paper destroyed, there was nothing to be feared from them, so our young friends were quite easy in their minds. In the morning Amos whittled out a pad dle, and was ready to continue the journey after breakfast had heen disposed of, storm had passed over and the lake looked charming in the rays of the early morning sun as the two boats put out and headed south. Felix had by good luck saved his fine gun, as it had become fastened in the boat, but it would have to pass through the hands of a repairer, for it was well soaked. As they had no provisions, it became necessary that they should remain with the others in order to exist. Their further voyage was uneventful, and the steamer due east from Duluth, touching at the point near the mouth of the river, took themselves and boats aboard. Arriving at Sault Ste. Marie, Bob’s first business was to place his document in the hands of a lawyer, and one fine morning Squire Cleves awoke to find himself dispos- sessed of the large property which he had believed to be his own. Bob’s troubles vanished like the mist be- fore the sun—Mazie’s eyes were opened, and the glamour Felix Darling’s wealth had cast over her disappeared. She had never cared for the dude, anyway, and was more bent upon acting the part of a coquette than anything else. Bob knew a true heart dwelt beneath this exterior, and he was not afraid to trust his fortunes with her. Probably no more surprised individual could be found in town than Felix, when the truth came out; but in his peculiar way he had come to admire Bob, since the other had helped to save his precious life, and he seemed to be really sincere when he con- gratulated the young fellow on the great change in his fortunes. Carl and Bob have too intense a love for the woods and waters not to annually seek a vacation where the trout lie hidden and the timid deer stalks. Here, with pack and pad- dle, they will find new life among the pines, and return to business reinvigorated after their communion with Nature in her wildest dress. (THE END.) —_ 0 OBLIGING HIS WIFE. ‘*John,’’? exclaimed the nervous woman, ‘*there’s a burglar in the house. I’m sure of it.’? John rubbed his eyes, and protested mildly that it was imagination. ‘*No, it isn’t. I heard a man down stairs.’’ So John took a box of matches and went down, \To his surprise, his wife’s suspicions were correct, Seeing that he was unarmed, the burglar covered him with a revolver, and became quite sociable. ‘*Tsn’t it rather late to be out of bed?’’ he remarked. ‘*A—er—a—little bit,’’ replied John. ‘*You’re too late, anyhow, because I’ve dropped everything out of the window, and my pals have carried them off.’’ ‘*Oh, that’s all right. I’d like to ask one favor of you, though.’’ ‘¢What is it?”’ ‘‘Stay here until my wife can come down and see you. She has been looking for you every night for the last twelve years, and I taken by darkness and the storm. Amos, strange to say, could not swim, but ‘‘ Fellows,’’ he said, ‘‘I’m ashamed of the | through fire and water for you, just call on | fact | good-natured fellow could take it all so} Really, I cawn’t be a | The | NEWS. 42475 THE MYSTERY OF PRECONTAL. BY E. 8S. STUART. ti ae ZA3; RUINED castle is all very well in yy you two clever fellows awfully, but ~~ the worst of it is there never seems the chance of an adventure—what I call good jolly unexpected adventure—about them !’’ Thus spake Victor Harley, who, with his two friends, Arthur and Charley Mayhew, | was taking a walking tour through the beau- | tiful province of Touraine, in France. Victor was not fond of archaleogy, his- tory, botany, or in fact, of anything re- quiring thought and patience; but he was a capital fellow for all that; good-natured in the extreme, and full of fun, so that the two Mayhews, who were older than himself, liked him very much; they were great friends, although Victor’s tastes and pur- suits differed from theirs, and he scouted the idea of being ‘‘made intellectual.?’ | ‘They were now making their way across |} country to visit the extensive ruins of the Chateau de Precontal, and concerning these ruins Harley had made the above remark. The ancient castle soon: lay before them; once a splendid pile of building, and grand even in decay, its noble yet forlorn appear- ance at once roused Arthur and Charley to enthusiastic interest, and they hastened for- | ward until, reaching a small cottage in the | vicinity, they stopped to inquire whether they might explore the chateau. An.old man opened the door, and looked at the three young American lads with-a mixture of amusement and curiosity; but Victor, who had lived a good deal in France, immediately plunged into conversation. with him. ‘*Yes—yes, monsieu1. I will come and show you all there is to see,’’ said the old man, leading the way to the castle, ‘‘Pre- aout is a wonderful great place, but it is | empty and desolate now. The Counts of Precontal have not lived here for genera: tions, but my father could remember when and ladies rode through the gates and court- yards, and met the hounds and huntsmen, while the old walls echoed with the merry din, but the day’s sport-was soon over, and | then everything seemed more lonesome and | silent-like than ever.’’ ‘‘What made the Counts of Precontal give up such a jolly old place. It was too dull for them, perhaps?’’ said Victor. ‘*No, it wasn’t that, monsieur; it was be- cause of the loss of the Countess Lucie. Years and years ago, the young count of that time brought home a beautiful bride, and she disappeared; she was lost entirely, monsieur! Search in the castle, search in the lake, search in the forests—all was use- less, and so the family forsook the place,.’’ ‘‘Another case of the ‘Mistletoe Bough,’ eh? I hope they turned out all their big trunks before they went away!’’ cried Victor. ‘*Now, my friend,’’ said Charley, giving the old peasant . ‘‘a tip,’’ ‘‘leave us the keys, will you, and when we have eaten our lunch we can explore the rooms at our leisure—we’re in no hurry, you see.’’ The old man complied, and left them, a little hurt at their evident wait of faith in his legend of the lost bride. ‘*What shall we do now?’’ exclaimed Vic- tor, when the three friends had appeased their hunger. ‘*‘Do! why, Harley, what a fellow you are!’’ returned Arthur, laughing. ‘‘Here we have the luck to be in a splendid old French chateau, at full liberty to explore, examine, sketch, or make valuable notes, and I verily believe you would prefer a game at hide- and-seek through the apartments!”’ ‘*Well, and so I would! the very place for it! Give me five minutes start, and then a dollar to whoever finds me first.’’ ‘¢ Agreed !’’ cried Arthur, amused at the boy’s proposal, and off went Victor, re- solved to puzzle them. Crossing the court, he entered the main building, and leaving the larger halls and corridors, he ran at hap-hazard down sey- eral passages and across empty rooms of all sorts and sizes, till he reached one larger than the rest, and still containing a few odds and ends of antique furniture. In the farthest corner stood a huge, gaunt old elbow-chair, about half as big as a four-post bed. Between this and the wall Victor thrust himself, and beginning to fancy he heard footsteps in the distance, he drew himself in as far as he could, leaning heavily against the wall, Suddenly he felt it give way, and he fell backward, down several steps. He was unhurt, and quickly sprang to his feet, perceiving immediately that the pressure of his weight had forced open a concealed door. ‘*Here’s a lark!’’ he said to himself. ‘‘Now if I shut this, my dollar is safe enough,’’ and he gently pushed the door, which at once sprang back to its former position. At first Victor thought of waiting where he was, but on examining his hiding-place, don’t want her to be disappointed any longer.’’ - its way, and of course will interest | they used to come here to hunt; and gay | | eiough the place looked, he said, when lords | | descending found a massive door, appar- poet closely fastened by an enormous rusty ock. ‘*This certainly bars further discoveries, ’’ thought the boy, giving the door a great shove with his foot, when much to his as- tonishment it yielded to the touch, and with a harsh and grating noise, slowly swung back on its rusty hinges. Somewhat awed, but fasvinated by the adventurous romance of this occurrence, he entered a dark chamber, and the damp, deadly chill of the air which met him, con- vinced him at once that it must be a stony dungeon. Victor paused; he had no inclination to make a groping examination of this gloomy place, and was about to return to the steps, when he recollected he had two or three matches in his pocket. ‘*I may as well see where I’ve got to go,’’ said he to himself, as he struck a light and held it steadily. A glance dimly revealed the proportions of the chamber, which was of moderate size, and he saw some rusty armor, and a few articles of furniture placed irregularly here and there. A little way from him stood a table, a high-backed chair was close to it. Victor’s match burned low ; Good Heavens! the chair was not vacant! Was it—could it be a skeleton leaning there? The match went out. ‘*T won’t believe it!’’ thought the lad; ‘I will light another, and convince myself it | was fancy, and then I will run back to Ar- thur and Charley.’’ But the light of his second match only confirmed the horrible revelation made by the first. In very deed, a skeleton form rested moldering there; a few rags of raiment hung about it, and two little shoes lay beneath the table. Victor Harley felt the giddy sickness of sudden horror; he turned to escape while he could resist the faintness which he feared would speedily overcome him. The movement blew out the glimmer of his match; but he rushed in the direction of: the great door, stumbled against it, and be- fore he could recover his balance, it had | Slammed to with a terrific bang, the hollow echo of which reverberated through the vaulted passages and chambers till it died | away in a dull and distant moan. | Victor’s heart sank, as manfully strug- |gling against the faintness which at first | came over him, he endeavored, by carefully | feeling for a bolt or handle, to discover the means of release from his fearful position. He was soon convinced that there was no lock, bolt, handle, or key on the inside of this fatal door; and as the peasant’s story of the lost Countess Lucie flashed mind, he felt in a moment that he was not only in the presence of. her mortal remains, but imprisoned as she had been, and only too likely to share‘her miserable fate. The brave boy strove for composure, and resolved to consider what was best to be done, instead of yielding to despair. After vainly trying to shake, or in any way move the heavy door, and shouting till he was hoarse, he began to grope his way all around the dungeon, in the hope of find- ing some other entrance; but er countering a sharp projection in the wall, he struck his head with such violence that he was stunned, and fell senseless to the ground. When, at length, Victor recovered con- sciousenss in the darkness, he could not, for a time, remember where he was; but, as the circumstances returned to his recollection, his distress became painful in the extreme. He renewed his cries for help, only to be convinced he was totally unheard; and at last, weary and worn out, he fell asleep. He must have slept a long time, for on awaking he felt desperately hungry; but night and day were alike in this awful dungeon, and the idea that he might never again see the blessed light of the sun made his heart quail, as, with thrilling sympathy, rather than with foolish fear, he thought, shudderingly of the skeleton beside him, and the sad fate of the fair Countess Lucie. Victor Harley knelt and prayed—prayed hard for life, for deliverance from this living tomb, for the blessing of once more rejoining his friends. ‘*Oh, Arthur and Charley!’ he cried; ‘if I might only be with you again! Won’t you come and find me? They will think I have played them a trick,’? he murmured, sadly, ‘‘and will go on without me.’ The hours—how many he knew not—wore away; a deadly numbness was gradually creeping over his senses, mental and phy- sical, and Victor lay in a kind of dreamy stupor on the cold, damp floor, when a puff of warm, fresh air, contrasting with the sepulchral chill of the place he was in, passed over his face; he opened his eyes, and was aware of a faint ray of light, unseen before in his prison. With some difficulty he crawled toward it, but was arrested by distinctly seeing a pair of bright-glancing green eyes fixed upon him. Victor stopped, and gazed almost panic. stricken, when suddenly the solemn, awful stillness of the place was broken by a loud and prolonged ‘‘ Mi-au!’’ The reaction of feeling caused by this most unexpected and familiar sound, produced which was a narrow, darkish passage, he discovered a few more steps, and cautiously such an extraordinary effect upon the boy’s nerves that he began to laugh and cry with- into his ~ 4475 out the slightest power of controlling him- self. There was an indescribable sense of com- fort in knowing that a cat—a dear old pussy —was near him; it seemed to bring happy home life once more within his reach. Fortunately, the idea that this might be a savage brute prowling about with evil in- tentions, never crossed his brain. In eager accents he began to call ‘‘ Pussy, | pussy, pussy,’’ quite forgetting she wasa French cat, and had never been called pussy in all her life; and so it must have been out of pure curiosity that she drew near to the poor anxious fellow, who thankfully felt her approach closely to him, and let him stroke, and finally take her in his arms, As she began to purr in return for his fondling, he felt soothed and better able to think, and it soon occurred to him that as the cat had got in, she surely could get out again. He rose and carefully examined the chink through which the light faintly streamed. The opening was small, and high up in the wall. It seemed to Victor that a brick must have got displaved in some drain, and puss had been unwillingly precipitated into the dungeon, He took out his pocket-handkerchief, which was plainly marked with his name, and firmly knotted it around the cat’s neck ; then exerting his remaining strength, he stretched upward as high as he could, and helped the creature to clamber up to the fissure. She reached it, and passed safely out. Victor Harley awaited the result. * * * * * * * The sun shone brightly on the castle terrace, where the peasant’s grandchildren were running races and laughing merrily. They considered the old chateau quite as much their property as ever the Counts of Precontal had done. ‘Look! look!’ cried little Georgette. ‘‘Something came out of that Hole in the ground! What can it be, Robert?’’ ‘‘Why, it is only grandmother’s cat, you little silly!’’? said Robert, laughing heartly. ‘*Don’t you know Minette? Let’s race her!’ ‘*But she has got a nightcap on round her neck! See, brother!’’ ‘‘Come here, naughty cat, show me what you have there. Oh, you thief, you must have been stealing. You shall. come to grandpere and confess.’’ But as soon as the old man saw the fino white handkerchief : ‘‘Quick! quick! my children,’’ he ex- claimed; ‘‘show me the hole! Perhaps we may still be in time,’’ and he hurried to the spot. Arthur and Charley in their search for Victor had first become weary, and finally thoroughly alarmed. They had run back to the cottage and got the old peasant and his son to help them to search the ruins, shout- ing and calling loudly on Victor, and anx- iously listening for his voice in answer. Finding all their efforts fru;tless, and being assured they had now examined every room and turret in the place, they tried to persuade themselves that their lively com- panion had given them the slip in good earnest, and was amusing himself at their expense by getting before them to the next town, which was their destination for the night. The old "renchman was satisfied , they must be right in their supposition, although he did feel inclined to remind them of his story of the lost bride, and thought no more about the matter, until the children brought him the handkerchief. Very quickly everybody in the tiny village had assembled on the terrace, for the alarm was given that a young American monsieur had been lost like the Countess Lucie, and that Pierre’s cat had brought his handker- chief out of a hole in the ground. Eager voices uttered loud shouts and cries through the opening, then all listened breathless for some reply, and at last a faint sound was heard—the boy was weak now, and with difficulty made bimself audible. The hole was enlarged so as to enable them to let down a small flask of wine and some bread, and as soon as it was certain Victor had got it every effort was made to find the passage by which he had entered the fatal dungeon. But it was vain, the secret door remained undiscovered. In the midst of the excitement Arthur and Charley arrived. In the greatest alarm at not finding their friend at the inn as they expected, they had returned as soon as possible, and met a messenger sent after them. Victor's rescue had to be effected from above; the opening was enlarged with much difficulty, anda ladder being let down, he was carefully carried up by old Pierre’s son, and most joyfully received as it were from the very grave by Arthur and Charley. ‘*But what ails you, my son? You look as white as the young monsieur! And why don’t you speak?’’ cried old Pierre, as he and the women, now turning from Victor, observed the agitation of the young French- man who had gone down the ladder. It was some minutes before he could ex- plain what he bad seen in the dungeon, and reat was the sensation among the: poor vil- agers when they knew that the bones of the lost Countess Lucie were actually beneath their feet. CHOOT When Victor had rested for a few days | with the kind and simple family of old Pierre, and was sufficiently recovered, he weut with his friends and the villagers to the castle, and showed them the secret door. |The dungeon was entered once more, and the remains of the unfortunate lady were recovered and interred with due respect. * * 2 * * * « ‘*T say, Victor, old man, this adventure ought to last you some time, eh?’’ said Charley Mayhew, when the three friends were once more on the tramp. ‘'But, by the by, that jolly little cat won the dollar, you know.”? —— i RALPH DEDDINGTON’S RIDE. BY C. EDWARDES. Ow yt was the last day of spring vacation, ‘I and the shadows of the coming term ALi had begun to settle upon Ralph Dedding- => ton and Bill Stapleton. There were especial reasons why they should be rather depressed. ‘‘T suppose the brute will keep his word?’’ said Bill. ‘‘Trust him, Fellows like that seem to en- joy torturing chaps. Well, I don’t care. Let him. It’ll be a licking; that’s about all.”’ ‘*Yes, and in our last term, too! That’s the worry of it, after having gone through so well.’’ ‘*Dash the dust!’’ said Ralph. The boys were on the hind seat of the drag. They thus certainly got what dust was going —and that was a good deal. ‘* And dash the bonnets, too!’’? whispered Bill, ‘‘What do they want to wear such great towering things for?’’ ‘“You’re right, Bill.’’ It was the race day at Reyton, and Ralph’s father had his usual houseful of guests. These he was now driving to the race-course that they might have the pleasure of seeing bis horse, The Frog, win the Deddington Cup. They all believed in The Frog locally. The only trouble was the jockey; young Smith, who had trained for the race, having the day before been suddenly taken unwell. How- ever, every one hoped he would show him- self in the paddock well enough, and confi- dent enough. On rattled the drag. . Periodically the horn sounded; and there was a constant ripple of laughter and jest from the gentlemen and ladies who were of the party. No one paid much attention to young Ralph and his school fellow, Bill Stapleton. That was why the Jads had so much oppor- tunity to brood over the menace of Farmer Markham, which that bucolic ruffian had promised to put into force when the holidays were over. He meant to spoil the vacation for the boys, if possible. In this he had not altogether succeeded; but he had at least put a little poison in the cup of their pleasures. Reyton at last, with its one long street, mostly gay with bunting and lively with the visitors who had come into the little town for the races. The horn tooted merrily as they bowled over the rough cobbles of the road. Mr. Ded- dington was a profound favorite in the dis- trict, quite apart from his love of horseflesh and his ownership of The Frog. Hats were lifted to the drag as the thing sped along to the course, which was rather more than a mile on the otber side of the town. Once inside the gates, every One was eager to learn if Smith, the jockey, had arrived. Ralph said he would be the first to find him out and rejoice the hearts of the Ded- dington guests. But instead of doing that, he had to play the part of wet blanket. He ran up to his father with a telegram given him by the secretary of the Reyton Race- course Company. Mr. Deddinygton’s lower lip drooped at the sight of the yellow envelope. ‘Looks bad!’’ he said. In effect, it was a wire to say that young Smith couldn't leave the house. ‘And there isn’t another lad handy or of the right weight either!’’ exclaimed Mr. Deddington, with the most positive signs of disappointment. Young Ralph heard these words, and with NEW S. Ralph whispered his request. ‘*You know I’m about Sinith’s weight, dad, and can stick on all righbt.’’ It was plain this idea had not entered Mr. Deddington’s head. He looke:l down at his son sharply; but the risk deterred him from entertaining the thought at first. ‘*You’ve only one neck, Ralph, and I can’t let you peril that.’’ ‘*T know jolly well The Frog can’t pitch me,’? protested Ralph; ‘‘and I’d do my level best to bring her in leading.’’ ‘*Yes, you ride well for a youngster, my boy. But——’’ ‘*And you'll not find any one else ina hurry who knows her old tricks like me, dad. Do let me. I?ll be awfully careful.”’ Mr. Deddington turned to his friends. ‘‘What do you think the boy wants?’’ he asked. Some one laughingly suggested: ‘*To take Smith’s place, perhaps!”’ ‘*That’s just it,’’ said Mr. Deddington. ‘*But 1 don’t like the notion.’?’ At this moment up stepped Colonel May- leigh, a weather-beaten old man, looking a sportsman every inch of him, ‘*Bravo, youngster!’’ he said, clapping Ralph on the shoulder. ‘‘There’s some good stuff in Kentucky for the next generation, after all. Take my advice, Deddington, and let hini win the cup for you.’’ Deddington, ‘*Ay, ay. Bless you, it’s nothing much for him to do on The Frog. What’s his weight??? ‘‘The same as Smitb’s within a pound or two.’? ‘*Good. You’re sure you don’t funk it in the least, lad?’’ to Ralph. ‘‘T don’t feel as if I did,’’ said Ralph. ‘‘Then take him off and put the silk on him, Deddington, and I'll tell you what I’ll do. I'll give him ten dollars for his pluck if he loses, and twenty-five if he gets The Frog in first.’? Bill Stapleton heard this talk and felt proud of his chum when, the next minute, ter, would like it. There was an hour before the Deddington Cup would be run; plenty of time in which to instruct Ralph about his duties as a jockey. The Frog looked in splendid shape, and it was a good omen that just after lashing out viciously at a stable lad, she consented to let Ralph come up to her and fondle her muzzle. ‘*You’ve got to win, old girl,’’ Ralph said in her ear. He was far less nervous than he ought to have been, considering the circum- stances; but the color in his cheeks and his ‘“Do be careful, Deddy,’’ Bill Stapleton entreated, when he had admired the black and old gold colors of his chum ’s jacket, ‘*“As careful and as smart as I know how,’’ replied Ralph. In due time the saddling was done, and The Frog. This Mr. Deddington did himself. ‘‘Remember, my dear boy, I shall never forgive myself if anything happens to you; nor will your mother,’’ he said. ‘Trust me, dad,’’ replied Ralph, as he moved The Frog out of the paddock. In the preliminary canter the boy’s mount did not show to advantage. There was no doubting that it would be a piece of luck if Ralph brought ber in first. She was now reckoned only an outsider. But the race itself was a different matter. From the very start Ralph plied his spurs in a most determined manner. He did not display much style, but his energy made up for that, The Frog darted ahead in the open- ing fifty yards, and, amid an extraordinary roar of voices, passed the judge’s box some ten lengths in advance of the second horse, who had been male favorite. ‘*Well done, old fellow!’ cried Bill from the course as soon as the race was decided, to meet the successful horse and jockey. Ralph was short of breath and very red in the face. But he smiled at Bill and also at his father, who, with a murmer of ‘‘Thank God it’s over!’’ clasped his band. There were also cries of ‘‘Well done, kid!’’ from the mob, who did not all know that the ‘‘kid”’ ‘*Will he do, do you think?’? asked Mr. | | he'saw him escorted into the dressing room. | | He wondered how Dr. Bond, the head mas- bright eyes showed that he felt his situation. | then nothing remained but to put Ralph on | the crowd of others who had run out onto | was Mr. DPeddington’s only son. Lastly | a sudden flash in his eyes gripped Bill Staple- | Colonel Mayleigh stumped manfully to the | ton by the arm and pulled him aside. He]! group and cried, ‘‘Splendidly done, my lad, | You’re a credit to the State, and ason I’d ‘*You? Never!’’ said Bill. like to callmy own, bang meif 1 wouldn’t!”’ ‘*Why not? I’m a pretty good hand at the| ‘‘Keep your head, Ralph,’’ said Mr, Ded- reins, and I know the old Frog down to her | dington, laughing. ‘‘You’ve got the ladies’ hocks.’’ congratulations yet to come.’’ ‘* But it’s a steeplechase, isn’t it?’’ ‘“Ay, and keep that twenty-five, too, my ‘No; only five furlongs on the straight. |lad,’’ said the Colonel, handing Ralph the I’m sure I could, if father would but let me.’’ | money.’ ‘‘It’s a long time since I had such Bill looked at bis chum with admiration, | pleasure in parting with that kind of paper.’’ mingled, perhaps, with a little envy. It was a memorable day in Ralph’s life. ‘*T wish,’* he said, somewhat inconsequent-| As his father had hinted, it was hard for ly, ‘‘that my father could afford me a| him to go throughit without becoming a lit- horse.”’ tle, or more than a little, conceited. Still, But Ralph paid no heed to this futile as-| he managed that also, though no thanks to piration on Bill’s part. Bill Stapleton, who was most loyal and en- ‘You just wait there,’’ he said; ‘‘T’ll see! thusiastic in his praises. hiin about it at once. It’s a good job mother| The worst of it was that the holidays were isn’t with the rest, else there’d be no!so nearly at an end. chance.”’ However, in compensation, when the fatal So saying, Ralph ran to bis father. day arrived, they set off in the train with ‘*Say dad, may I speak to you?’’ he ex-{ more pocket-money than they had ever yet claimed, interrupting an earnest discussion! possessed. Ralph insisted on Bill’s accepting about the dilemma. jten dollars of the money that the colonel ‘What is it, my boy? Be quick.’’ had given him. Not that that was the extent whispered something in Bill’s ear of his funds; for his father had given him fifteen dollars and a gold watch to boot. The latter was in memory of his achievement on The Frog. At Barnton they met three or four other fellows, schoolward botnd. Even in the train Bill Stapleton began about Ralph's fine doings. This was not altogether fair of Bill; for Ralph had conjured him to secrecy on the subject. But Bill argued that since so great au event had already got in the papers ; he might just as well as not give himself the pleasure of talking about it. The other fellows were for making a hero of Ralph on the spot. They were all Ken- tucky lads, and inherited the local affection |for horses. Nor were they to be dissuaded | from their hot, if short, fit of hero-worship by Ralph’s own attempts to make light of Sine whole affair. | However, as they neared the school that | other business of Farmer Markham recurred to them, and the talk drifted in execration | of the malignant old farmer. | This is what had happened to arouse Mr. Markham’s ire toward certain of Dr. Bond’s | boys, and Ralph Deddington in particular. | ‘The farm-yard adjomed the school play- | ground, and one of the farmer’s hens had ac- quired an abominable habit of trespassing on the boys’ gardens, where it ate seeds, young | plants, and anything else of the kind it fan- cied. At length the lads formed a conspiracy | against the fowl. They captured it, cut off its head, and actually began to roast it over 'a bonfire, made ostensibly to destroy a lot of vegetable refuse. The farmer chanced to | come upon them in the middle of this enter- | prise, while Ralph was calling him a number | of unpleasant names, and holding the trussed , hen to the flames. | This was the last week of the spring term. | ‘*You wait, my lads, until your holidays | are over, and then you’ll smart,’’ said Mr. | Markham, ‘‘and especially you, my fine Ded- |dington pullet. I’ve took down your lan- guage, and your master shall know every syllable of it.’’ No sooner were the boys back at the school than they made their way into the play- | ground to look about them; Ralpb with the rest. | ‘*Oh, you old pig!’’ he exclaimed, shaking 'Ing fist at the hedge which separated the | farmer’s land from the school premises. | But Bill Stapleton’s eyes were sharper than | Ralph’s. | ‘*Jjook out, Deddy,’’ he whispered; ‘‘he’s | there himself.’ | The next moment, in fact, the beet-colored , face of the farmer showed over the hedge. ; **Come here you boys,’’ he cried. ‘‘Not for you,’’ answered Ralph. ‘You | can tell the doctor whatever you like.’’ A smile broke out over the farmer’s coun- | tenance. | ‘*No, no,’’ hesaid; ‘‘I’ve forgive you that. | You’re the youngster that rode The Frog, | now, an’t you?’’ Ralpb didn’t reply, but some of the other | boys said ‘‘Yes’’ at once, | ‘Darn me if I didn’t guess it soon as I i heard. Now, look here, Master Deddington; if you d ask me, I'd give you every blessed fowl in my yard, and think nothing about ;it. I’m Kentuckian enough to know a fine thing when I see it, and that win o’ yourn on The Frog ineant a deal to me. Shake hands with me, Master Deddington, if ouly for the say of the thing, and there’s an end OL: 18:2? During this rather long speech, the boys looked at each other, some surprised, some laughing. ‘*Go it, Deddy: give him your flipper,’’ said one of them afterward, ‘‘It’s a good job we're let off so easily.’’ Ralph was not sg eager to shake hands with Mr. Markham as was the farmer to sbake hands with him. But of course he did it. ‘*Then it’s all over about the hen?’’ he asked. | ‘*My lad,JI’ve said so, and that’s enough,’’ | was the farmer’s reply. ‘‘Well,’’ said Ralph, when they had seen the old fellow retreat, | whistling, to bis yard, ‘‘I’ve had quite | : ‘ : |enough jaw about my bit of a ride, and I | don’t want to hear another word on the sub- ject.’ Nevertheless, he had to hear something more about it: this time from Dr. Bond. The head master had Ralph into the study that evening, and at once mentioned The ‘Frog. ‘“‘T do hope, Deddington,’’ he said, ‘‘that you won’t let this sort of thing occur again. But,’’ be added, with a smile, ‘‘all the same, you showed an excellent manly spirit, and— | ahem!—I couldn’t help wishing I had been in the saddle instead of you. That’s all, Ded- dington.’’ —_——_—_—- o-e————————_— * THE USUAL DISTINCTION. Teacher—‘‘What is the difference betwee? industry and luck?”? Boy—‘‘One door.”’ ‘‘Humph! How do you explain that?”’ ‘‘Industry is what you bas yourself. Luck is what your neighbor bas.’’ ~~ - 0» Somer of the screws in a watch are 8° small that, to the unaided eve, they appear like steel filings. It takes 303,000 of them to weigh a pound. aA @2h > et Se Om AR CO OPA 0 $0 ar m QUR STAMP -ALBUM. OW many collectors have the United States 3c. blue locomotive stamp, without embossing? ‘hose that have will do well to hold on to them, as they are one of the many rere varieties, and 4 2 have been constantly increasing in value. | There are other values of this issue that bring phenomenal prices compared to other United States stamps, and the same values with embossing. These stamps are the same as the grilled specimens of 1869, and area reprint of those made in 1875 by the Govern- ment. the old issues of its stamps reprinted, chiefly for the benefit of collectors. Shortly after a circular was issued with a list of stamps reprinted, stating that they | were on sale in Washington, and could be bought at face value. For some reason the circular also said that the 1847-51 issues could not be used as postage, all the other issues being receivable. This is where they differ from other reprints, and consequently their value was increased. In 1883 the sale of these reprints was stopped without pre- vious notice, thus making those purchased comparatively rare, as very few were used, We give below the catalogue value of the 1869 grilled issue, and the ungrilled of 1875, in unused condition: 1869. 1875. 1c. buff, $ .50 $ 1.00 2c. brown, .85 1.50 8c. blue, 15 10.00 6c. blue, 1.75 5.00 10¢c. yellow, 1.50 5.00 12¢c. green, 1.00 5.00 15c. brown and blue, 5.00 -- 15¢. brown and blue (picture framed), 2.50 8.50 24c. green and purple, 10.00 12.00 80c. blue and carmine, 10.00 15.00 90c. black and carmine, 17.50 20.00 * * * * The 5c. envelope of the present issue has been re-engraved. The embossed head -is | changed, and the lapel of the coat has no button on as formerly. Collectors would do well to procure a few of each. x * * * Die varieties means re-engraving or re- touching of the die from which the plate is made. * * * The current 5c. stamp has also been re- engraved, a fine thin line having been added around the oval containing the bust of Gen- eral Grant. ‘ * * * Look over your Hong Kong stamps and see if you have any perforated 1234. The de. and the 96c. are the only ones known to exist with this perforation. In a recent auction sale in London, an unused copy of the 4c. sold for nearly $10, the 96c. being even more valuable. * * * * We have already mentioned the Milbury stamp that sold for $6.15 at a recent auction sale hel in the East. The following prices were realized for other stamps. An 1851-56 24¢, brought $70; a 24c. 1870 sold for $37.50; an Athens, Ga., local, on original cover, realized but $60.25; a 5c. red Memphis en- velope, cut square, went for $20.25, but the 1 shilling 1857 scarlet-vermilion of New- foundland, used and cut loose, went for $93.12, over $3 more than the catalogue value. * * * One of the finest counterfeit stamps that has been circulated is the 1867 5 pid brown of Egypt. It passed the eyes of some of the best collectors, but was finally discovered by the New England Stamp Co., of Boston. After applying benzine to it, it was difficult to form an opinion. * * * * A new society has just been formed called the Society for the Suppression of Spesu- lative Stamps. Its first manifesto has ap- peared, and the following stamps are listed as uncollectable and unpurchasable: Portugal, ‘Santa Antonio’’ Centennial Stamps, Chinese locals, of all sorts issued after June 10, 1895, the 4, 10. 20, 30, and 40 cents surcharged on the one dollar stamp by North Borneo and Lubuan. * * * * _ The new newspaper stamps of the current issue issued by the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, comprises the following de- nominations: 1c., 2c., 5c., 10c., 25¢., 50c., $2, $5, $10, $25, $50 and $100. * . * * One of the greatest difficulties that a Studious philatelist finds is to distinguish the watermarks on certain stamps. Great Britain and ber colonies, and such countries Using watermarks in colored paper, are the hardest to find, and in some cases it is al- Most an impossibility to distinguish the Watermark in colored paper. Very often the | Stamp is heavily canceled, or the watermark very dim. In any of the above cases the Surest and best way to bring out the water- Mark is to fill a deep, dark colored vessel | With warm water, one that no light can enter, or one that you cannot readily dis- tinguish anything at the bottom). Place the Stamp face down on top of the water, and In 1875 the Government had all of | |allow it to become thoroughly saturated. The watermark, if there is one, will become as plain as a pencil mark. In case your stamp is one liable to lose its color, you can use cold water. * * * * We give below a complete list of the | prices, etc., that selectious of stamps sold for at seven auction sales held in New York | by one of the largest dealers. Lots | Average; Total | A verage Total Amount in Stamps | Number | price per oO Sale | each lot | ofstamps | lot | Sales 781 13 16, 162 $4. 54 $3,552.55 | 1026 12 12,603 8.31 8,529.75 | 865 25 8,076 5.36 1,956.07 | 603 14 8,394 7.94 4,789.58 | 689 7 4,908 8.78 6,052.79 1225 as 4,928 8.42 10,311.41 | 711 14 10,077 8.21 4,414.29 | 730 14 10,652 6.07 4,229.47 The total lots of stamps (69,790) brought $44,035.91. These sales were held in 1894- | 95, and if the prices that the sales of 1892-93 | averaged were added, it would amount to | $90,890.52. These sales (auction sales) do not include the firm’s every day business. * * * * The newly re-engraved 2c. stamps of the | present issue, on unwatermarked paper, bids fair to become somewhat scarce, its being in | use such a short time. It is very likely that {should the current series all appear ou watermarked paper, the higher values of the unwatermarked issue will rise up in prices rapidly. * * * * We have been somewhat surprised lately to learn of the unsettled condition of the stamp market. Few have any idea of the magnitude of the business, which numbers many wealthy firms and companies, some of them employing a large number of clerks, and doing an immense business. It certainly is not very encouraging to beginners, who by great exertion aud some expense have got together what they suppose to be a valuakle collection (being guided in their estimation by the price catalogues issued by these large firms), only to discover that many of the stamps rated at several hun- dred dollars, could not be sold to any dealer for over one-tenth to one-twentieth of that value given im these stamp catalogues, Some stamps bring from fifty to nearly seventy-five per cent. from the dealers, but stamps of this kind are in the minority. This state of affairs is the cause of much discouragement among amateur collectors, who as aresult sell their whole collection for a mere nominal sum, often parting with many rare aud valuable stamps on this account. . Now it is not our intention to belittle this branch of business, nor to discourage begin- ners in their work. Dealers should be more particular in re- gard to their catalogues. It is a duty they owe to their patrons, and any deviation from a straight, honorable course will react to their injury in the end. It has already done so in some cases. There is, however, one excuse for the dealers which the collector should under- stand, viz.: The constant finding of large quantities of stamps that were at first sup- posed to be rare. But this is a matter which the collector should endeavor to keep posted upon. There are plenty of rare stamps of the greatest value to make it an interesting and exciting business to try to find and obtain them. So do not get discouraged; it makes it all the more exciting to know that there are so many stamps of great value mixed in among alinost worthless stamps, and you are liable at any time, if you only keep watch and keep posted, to come into possession of a stamp worth many hundreds of dollars in- stead of cents. If stamps were al] of an equal value where would be the ‘‘fun’’ in collecting. It the dealers make mistakes, it is not your fault, and if a stamp is catalogued at an immense price, simply because the dealer has not seen many of them, just remember that there must be more of the same kind somewhere, and you are just as likely to get bold of such stanips. While the price is high, and if you are after money, and have good reason to believe there are many more of the same kind, you can sell‘them, and with the money (mind you, if you keep posted) purchase stamps which will not depreciate in value, but which in all probability will steadily gain. It is doubtful if our Columbians ever de- preciate in value. When you go into the country on vacation, hunt up all the old letters that either your relatives or the neighbors have, and compare them with the descriptions given in your stamp dictionary, if we may be allowed to call it such, and you may possibly find that you have spent a profitable vacation, as many valuable stamps are still to be found among old papers, let- ters, etc., which have been stored away in some old desk, or in soine old box or barrel in the attic, wood-shed, or some other part of the bouse. When you feel discouraged, just remember ‘the fact that the number of philateilsts is doubling every year, and that many of them have made fortunes, while you have been ‘thinking it over.’’ fora (i> NEWS. 4477 THE MONKEY’S VENGEANCE. —___ + -——_ BY J. L. ADAMS. EASON in monkeys? You’ve heard the West Indian negroes say,’’ began had served many years in India, ‘‘that monkeys arereally men, and only pre- tend to be dumb for fear of being obliged to work. Well, upon my word, I’ve seen them do such things as would almost make me be- lieve it. ‘*‘When I first joined the regiment, our | senior captain had a gray monkey chained up on the veranda of his bungalow (house), close to one of the front windows. ‘“*Now, just iuside this window, on a low stand, stood a fine French clock, of which | the captain was very proud. But apparently it didn’t please the monkey quite as well as his master; for, whether it was the ticking aunoyed him, or that he was excited by the glitter and the gilt ornaments round it, Mr. Monkey seemed to havea special spite against that clock, and to have quite made up his | mind to knock it down and break it. ‘*Luckily, bis chain was just a little too short to let him reach it with bis forepaws, clutch and Strain as he might. But if he didn’t reason upon these failures, he did something very like it; for one day, after stretching and straining to get hold of this clock until he almost choked himself, he stopped short all at once, and appeared to meditate. ‘‘Then he turned suddenly round, worked the ring of his chain (which was round the middle of his body) as far up as he could, and then, jerking out his left hind-leg to its full length, he just managed to hit the cor- ner of the stand, over went the poor clock onto the floor, smashing its glas. all to bits! This was pretty well for an ‘unreasoning’ animal; but a few years later, when I was down in Ceylon for a holiday, I witnessed another feat of monkey intelligence which was more surprising still. ‘*You remember the rocks at Trincomalee, I dare say; and of course you know what a place they are for big snakes. It used to be a saying with us there that, after a man had been a fortnight at. Trincomalee, the mere sight of a coil of rope would make him jump ten feet. ‘*] remember well how a young lady, who had strayed away from the rest at a picnic among the cliffs, suddenly slipped down a smooth face of rock, and found herself in the coils of a huge python. ‘*Luckily, the creature was so fully gorged already that it was too sluggish and sleepy to do her any harm, and her cries soon brought up half a dozen of the native servants, who fell upon his snakeship with their clubs, and made very short work of him. ‘*Now, [ bad always had a great hatred of serpents myself, and the four or five narrow escapes I had from them in Central India didn’t make me like them any better. So, directly I found out» that these rocks were such a favorite place of theirs, I took to go- ing there with my double-barrelled rifle every day, and blazed away at every creep- ing thing that I caught sight of, making such a slaughter that the Cingalese gave me some crack-jack native name. beginning with ‘Nag,’ which meant ‘Killer of Serpents.’ ‘*Well, one day I was out snake-hunting as usual amoung the cliffs, when al] at once I heard a terrible outcry, asif twenty or thirty children were all screaming at once: and coming rounda sharp corner, I saw what was wrong. **A gang of rock-monkeys, frolicking in a deep hollow, had been startled from their play by the sudden coming out of a mon- strous boa-constrictor right among them, from a narrow cleft in the rock. ‘*In a moment the whole band flew screech- ing up the sides of the hollow, out of his reach, except, one poor little fellow, who wasn’t quite quick enough in getting away. He bad only just time for one piteous cry be- fore the great coils closed around him, and the next instant be lay crushed and dead, while the serpent prepared to swallow him at leisure. ‘‘The whole thing seemed so like the kill- ing of a child, that it made me feel quite savage, and I was just going to let fly both barrels of my rifle into the great, ugly brute. But just as 1 brought the piece to my shoul- der, my servant Ayapah—an old shikar (na- tive hunter) from the mountains of Mysore, and by far the best man at that sort of work that I ever met in India—caught hold of my arm. ‘« ‘No shoot, sahib’ (master), said he, in a whisper. ‘no shoot! Suppose capitaun sahib wait little time: plenty, fine show see.’ ‘«The old fellow spoke so earnestly that I began to feel interested without knowing why, and sitting down in the shadow of the rock, watched to see what would happen next. ‘ ‘*Just at first nothing seemed to happen at all, except that the boa began to swallow the dead monkey. and seemed to be having rather a tough job of it. But presently I noticed a great stir among the monkeys who were still gathered on the brow of the cliff, just above the hollow in which the serpent was lying. ‘‘Several more seemed to have joined the band, and the others were screeching and a colonel in the English army who | : chattering and grimacing, and pointing with their long, black-tipped fingers, as if explain- | ing to the new-comers what had been going on. ‘“‘T saw a curious twinkle in Ayapah’s small black eye, and guessed at once that something queer was* coming, although for the life of me I could not tell what. | ‘*All at once the noise ceased as suddenly | as it had begun, and everything was so quiet | that if I hadn’t seen the monkeys still clus- tering along the top of the rock, I should never have known that they were there at all. ‘*But the cause of this was plain enough. The serpent had finished his dinner at last, and was getting ready to have a-nap after it, just as if’ he had been a city merchant; and the monkeys had a very good reason for be- | ing polite enough to avoid disturbing bim. | ‘*Presently the huge coils relaxed from | their strain, and lay limp along the ground. | The great, flat head sank down lazily, and in |a trice the snake was fast asleep. ‘‘Just then a monkey peeped over the edge |of the rock, and appeared to report to the others behind that al] was well. ‘*The next moment I saw an immense stone | on the brow of the cliff, just above where the | boa lay, begin to shake and totter, and I could see that the whole gang of monkeys | were pushing at it with all their might and | main. ‘*It shook again, then turned right over, and crash! down it came full upon the gorged snake! ‘«There was a hiss, like fifty kettles all boil- ing over at once, and the boa, crippled though he was, jerked up half his length into the air, wriggling and flapping like a speared eel ‘‘But instantly a big stone hit him on the head, and then another and another. In fact, the monkeys never stopped till they had fair- ly pelted him to death; and then they set up such a joyful hullabaloo that I was almost deafened by it. ‘*Now, if those monkeys had no power of reasoning, they had a pretty good imitation of it, anyhow—and that’s all 1 have tosay!’’ > +. YOUNG CLARK’S REVENGE. tial BY W. L. SUMMERS. a gp cia APTAIN ARMSTRONG was the most popular man in Baymouth. Popular with all parties. Any enter- tainment would have seemed incom- plete without his kindly familiar face and cheery voice. He himself, his garden, and finally his yacht, the Fire-fly, were the first objects of interest pointed out to a stranger. The Arm- strong prize in the regatta (for four-oared boats manned by lads under the age of eigh- teen) was the event of the year, and Bay- mouth folks thought themselves badly treated if one of their own crews failed in carrying it off. Perhaps the captain’s popularity was in some measure owing to \the following facts which had taken place some time ago, before he had made Baymouth his home: A schooner manned almost exclusively by Baymouth men had been missing for some months, and was at last-given up as lost. At this time, cruising about the South Pacific in his yacht, the captain wished, be- fore returning to America, to explore one of the least known islands. As his dingy neared the shore, he was surprised to see four white men come down to the water’s edge, and hear them address him in English. ‘“We were wrecked here, six months ago, and never a boat has put ashore but yours. There were ten of us, but five were drowned, and one has died since. We’re Baymouth men, sir, and will be truly thankful if you will take us to some port where\we can get a passage home again.’’ Captain Armstrong took them aboard, and having heard a detailed account of the ship- wreck and their subsequent sufferings, from the mate, Rogers, said: ‘“‘T am about to start for America myself, and will take you all the more willingly, as we are rather short of hands.’’ Tidings were sent from the first port they reached to those at home, acquainting them with the news of this happy rescue. It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight when at last they al] landed safely on Baymouth ‘sands. Fathers, mothers, sisters, wives, and brothers, in fact, the whole population was there to welcome those who were ‘‘lost and are found.”’ Rogers, as usual, the spokesman for the rest, with his wife clinging to her newly recovered husband, raised his heaven, and called down its blessings on their preserver’s head. * * * * * * * One fine day, seated in his usual place on the pier, Captain Armstrong said to Rogers (now the skipper of the Fire-fly) : ‘*We must have her all taut and trim by the holidays. My grandson is coming to spend them here.”’ He nodded in the direction of the yacht as he spoke; and Rogers replied, with a smile of satisfaction: ‘*Ay, cap’n, that’ll be just what you like. I remember Mr. Harold, a fine, fearless lad \~ 4€ ~S 2} hand to: Satie, iin Pollet, a ot Soiree - 4478 Car) 2D: : DEVS. is he, just cut out for a sailor’s life. Master Jack’ll be main glad to hear your news.’’ Master Jack Aubray alluded to was the minister’s son, and he here sauntered up, his fishing-tackle in one hand, and a pail of bait in the other. Seeing the captain, de put down the latter and prepared to chat while baiting the hooks. ‘‘Harold is coming to Baymouth for his holidays, Jack. I wish you would tell the Porters, and all of you come and spend next Thursday evening with him. We must devise some plans to amuse the lad.’ ‘“Thank you, captain, we’re sure to come. As for amusement, well—I don’t see how we can do better than fishing, boating and swimniing this fine weather, and there’s not much else to do at Baymouth.”’ ‘“There are the woods, and the—— ‘*Well, sir, the most enthusiastic person must admit them to be slightly tame at present; there are no nuts, and no—noth- ng.’’ While talking, Aubray had fixed two wriggling worms on his hooks, and having done so, was eager to be off and fishing, so bidding the captain ‘‘good-morning,’”* he went to the landing stage. Here was seated 7 on an iron chain, the most uncomfortable | seat imaginable, a youth with a most dole ful expression of countenance, probably caused by the empty basket at his side, for Tom Porter had been fishing exactly two hours, and as yet with no result. ‘‘What luck, old fellow?’’ -said Aubray, preparing to share the chain with his friend. Seeing the empty basket, he continued: ‘*What, not one? Well, 1’m jiggered!’’ Whatever this elegant expression may have meant, it had no effect on Porter, who sat ‘*Like Patience on a monument.’’ Aubray having settled the line to his satis- faction, began: ‘Captain Armstrong’s grandson is coming here for his holidays. {sn’t it jolly?’?’ ‘*Can’t say I find it so, not knowing him, and not particularly wanting to.’’ ‘Don’t be crusty, old fellow. Harold’s the best companion in the world: boating, swimming, it’s all one to him. He’s just cut out for what he is to be—a sailor.’’ ‘*Then, there’s luck for you! Some people would give their eyes to bea sailor, and fortune destines them to be a doctor, beastly profession, making disgusting pills all day long, and watching wretched sick folks take them all right.’? Aubray was tickled by this remark, and | laughed so immoderately that a very vigor- ous pull on his line would have passed un- noticed, had it not been for Tom recalling his wandering attention,.and then a ‘fish having obligingly hooked itself on to Por- ter’s line, restored his equanamity, and by the time all hooks were rebaited was him- self again, the cheery, good-tempered self Jack Aubray loved. ‘**T think we ought to ask him to row in our regatta four. His grandfather gives the prize, and it would be only just for him to have an opportunity of winning it.’? **So it would; but who do you propose turning off? Me?’? ‘“*You! fshould think not. I meant that young Clark. He’s as lazy as a pig, and never comes when he’s told. Every day last week he said his mother wanted him. / regular pack of lies, I don’t mind betting.’’ When Thursday arrived, Aubray,.the three Porter boys, and Harold sat out in Captain Armstrong’s garden, and Aubray mooted the subject. ‘*1 don’t like turning a fellow out of lis place like that,’’ said Harold; ‘‘it seems too cool.’? ‘*Especially when the fellow is such an ornament as Clark.’’ This came from Charley Porter, who dis- liked Clark, for the simple reason that he had taken off every prize he could in the athletic games, and left none but seconds for the rest. ‘‘Anyhow, we needn’t say anything to him till he turns up. I told him to be ready by ten o’clock, but it’s ten to one if he’ll be there.’’ ‘*Besides,’’ said the youngest Porter, a small boy intrusted with the nervous duties of coxswain in the coming race, ‘‘what if we (lo let Clark slide, we needn’t be so over particular about his feelings.’ ‘“Tf it comes to that, he ought to be hap- pier out of it. What with being called ‘blockhead’ by Aubray, and ‘lazy-bones’ by Tom, and various other polite epithets from us others——’’ ‘‘It seems to me,’’? put in Harold, ‘‘that this Mr, Clark well deserves all he gets, for every one has a knife into him, and doesn't fear for results; it argues in my mind some- what of a cowardly nature on the oppressed one’s part.’?’ Now it is all very well to calmly dispose of the services of another, when that other is absent, but it is a very different matter to tell him that you have so done to his face, : These five young gentlemen, standing in the boat at ten o’clock next morning, ready to shove off, felt rather taken aback when Clark, running down, shouted out: ‘“You’re a nice lot to be going without me.’’ Then seeing Harold in his place, he con- tinued ; ce Yi to take another asked.’ This was just the sort of Porter liked, so he sang out: ‘*Without being asked! J like that! Why, we asked him, to be sure. You didn’t seem week when ou’re a pretty cool chap, I must own, fellow’s seat without being cue Charley too eager to come last we wanted you, so——”’ ‘* You filled up my place?’’ ‘‘T’m sure——’’ began Harold, apologeti- cally. ‘*It’s no use arguing, Armstrong; he’s not to be relied on for one instant. I shouldn’t wonder if, when the race came on, he’d have said his mother wanted him, and he couldn’t come.’’ Here Charley, leaning his weight on the oar, the boat began to move a bit, so the others thinking this a favorable opportunity for closing this unprofitable debate, shoved off, leaving Clark on the shore, whom they soon forgot in practicing. All but Harold. He had been agreeably surprised in the boy. Expecting a milksop, he saw what inspired him with respect; a boy who could keep his temper under the most trying circumstances. In his place Armstrong would have fought a pitched battle with all five, to compel them to reinstate bim, and the result would, |in any case, have been eminently satisfac- tory; but here at least three had felt a prick from conscience, and one highly ashamed of himself. Harold determined to make it-up in some way; but day after after day passed, and yet it was not done. He felt the greatest offender, and would at first have given up his place in the boat, but as time went on the delight and charm of thé thing grew on | him; and when they did meet Clark, he was so cool and distant as not to invitea friendly | advance. One fine morning about a week before the rowing, coached .by the cap’n, fishing and such maritime pursuits, Tom Porter p gested a long ramble by the cliffs, which was immediately assented to. sug | regatta, tired of yachting, practicing their | | you and your ‘beauty. As they set off, who should they meet but | Clark; and Charley shouted out to him, ** Hallo!’ And was about to add some wititicism, when Armstrong stopped further talk by boxing his ears and telling him to shut up, at the same time calling: ‘*You’d better joinus. We’re going a jolly long walk.’’ ‘*T dare say you are; and hope you’ll en- joy it.’’ This was said sarcastically, for Clark could hardly be expected to believe in such sudden friendship. Now it happened that both parties were bound for the same place, but going to it by different paths. Clark, butterfly net in hand, was bound for the upper road, and the others by the lower road, which wound round the foot of the cliffs, They had prevailed on Rogers to join them, as he could spin long yarns of the time when smugglers abounded on _ that coast; and, moreover, show the very spots where struggles had taken place between them and the custom officer's. These stories were all the more interesting from the fact that Rogers’ grandfather had himself engaged in these nefarious pursuits, and had mixed up in many a fray. At certain points in the cliff above, Clark looking down, could see his former compan- ions, and note the interest they were taking in Rogers’ talk. He longed to be with them, and so at first did not take the usual delight in his pursuit of butterflies. , Sauntering on, the party below surround- ing Rogers was suddenly startled by hearing a voice apparently from the clouds call out: ‘‘Oh, do get him for me! he’s such a beauty !”’ They looked up, and Clark’s face was seen peering over, red with excitement and run- ning; and a little below, just out of reach of his net, was perched a magnificent ‘‘ Pur- ple Emperor,’’ ‘*Do try and get him for me! him all over the field here.’’ ‘*Well, I must confess you’re a pretty cool customer! You don’t suppose for one in- stant, we’re going to climb up there after your precious butterfly.’ Overhead, Clark still made frantic, but futile, dabs with his net. Armstrong would have given worlds to help him, and actually made a start, but Aubray pulled him back, saying: ‘*Wait a bit; it will soon fly away again; if up, Clark can get it; if in our direction, we'll have a try.”’ So they all stood awaiting the ‘‘em- peror’s’’ pleasure. A more vigorous flourish of the net than usual caused him to decide on selecting some other spot for a resting- place, and, spreading his beautiful wings, he rose; Clark, of course, in wild pursuit. Then, as if altering his mind, he went over the face of the cliff again, and slowly de- scended. Now the four boys started off after, scrambling, hat in hand, over the loose stony paths; at one minute having ‘‘his majesty’’ well within reach, at another hopelessly beyond them. Harold, always more daring than the rest, seeing it perch a good bit over his head, be- gan to climb, perfectly heedless of the fact I’ve chased that there was great danger in following a constantly shifting object over cliffs which offered little safe\ footing, even to one who cautiously considered every step. At last those below who had given up the chase, and stood with Rogers anxiously watching their companion, were delighted to see him clap his hat over the ‘‘emperor,’’ cover it carefully with his handkerchief, and then proceed to descend. He had nearly accomplished this, when a large stone on which he alighted, rolling over, brought him in rather an ignominous fashion to their feet. Aubray seized the disengaged hand to pull him up, when an agonized look passing over Harold’s face, and an almost involuntary groan escaping his lips, caused Tom Porter to exclaim: ‘‘Nothing wrong, I hope, old fellow?’’ ‘¢‘T—don’t—know. My wrist—I’m afraid— it’s—sprained.’’ To say the whole lot of them looked amazed would be to faintly describe the blank astonishment and vexation that | coursed over their various faces. One and | all thought of the forthcoming regatta a great deal more than of the pain their riend was suffering. ‘Why, it was nothing of a tumble,’’ said Charley; ‘‘I’ve gone over dozens of times just like that, and never had the slightest bruise or scratch, let alone sprains.’’ Rogers, meanwhile had been examining the wrist, which was swelling, and turning to the boys, he said: ‘*You may as well put all thoughts of rowing out of your heads, as far as the regatta goes, my lads. Master Harold won’t he able to handle an oar for some time yet.’’ Clark seeing the group below gathered around Harold, imagined they were admir- ing the ‘‘emperor,’’ and called out to know if if was not a beauty. ‘‘ Beauty? [ believe beauty !’? shouted Aubray. strong with a sprained wrist > 9) you. You’re a “*Here’s Arm- on account of ‘*What’s the matter?”’ ‘Matter? Come down and see for your- self.’’ In a few minutes he stood by their side, and was bailed with an amount of vitupera- tion that did them credit. Harold, putting himself at Clark’s side, | said: ‘*Look here, you fellows, it’s no use bully- ing him, he can’t help it.’’ ‘*Yes, he could, What did he want to ask us to bother about his blessed ‘emperor’ for??? ‘*He didn’t bother. I chose to go myself, and as for the race, well, I can’t say more than I’m sorry to give it up, and hope you’ll find a substitute.’ . ‘*A nice time of day to look for one. A week to-day it comes off.’’ ‘*Oh, Jerusalem! here’s a lark!”’ This very appropriate remark came from the youthful coxswain, who, sitting on the ground, mirthfully kicked his heels in the | air. A good sound cuffing from his elder brother reduced this mirth to a state verg- ing on tears. And turning to the others, Tom said: ‘*Tt’s no good shilly-shallying here; we’d better get home and let my father doctor you, Armstrong. Come. Quick march!’’ Rogers, who had been binding the wrist with a wet handkerchief, told them it was the best thing they could do. He had urged | the necessity of this several times, but none had heeded. So they all set off home, Charley in front, savagely kicking the stones in his path, to think that after all their joyful arrange- ments, Clark should bea witness to their disappointment, and that they might have to eat humble pie by asking him to rejoin them. Since Rogers told them that Harold could not hope fgr some time to handle an oar, Clark had thought over what seemed ‘to him a plain duty in this emergency; to offer himself in his stead. This kept running through his mind as he stepped out home by his newly-made friend’s side, with the xaptured ‘‘emperor’’ in one hand. He did not, however, say anything, but let it rest till the next morning, and then having made up his mind, went up to Cap- tain Armstrong’s, and said to Harold: ‘*T’ve come to tell you that if you like, I will take your place in the race, as the others seem so bothered at having to give it up.’? A You are a jolly’ good fellow,’’ said Harold, whose joy knew no bounds, for he felt keenly his friend’s disappointment, and Clark seemed the only one to keep them out of the present difficulties. Taking him right into his grandfather’s presence, Harold told, before the boy, whose face was suffused with blushes, how they had treated him, and how he was about to return good for evil, and sang his praises in such a hearty fashion, in spite of the occa- sional remonstrances from the victim, that Captain Armstrong resolved to express in a more substantial manner the pleasure he felt in such generous conduct. Needless to say, Clark’s services were ‘apturously accepted by the others, who tried to make amends for their past coolness | promises to be a good one. by present boisterous friendship. The regatta day arrived in due course, and Baymouth was delighted to see the crew in which the ‘‘cap’n’’ had taken such pleasure come first to the winning-post. They knew his grandson, who stood looking on with bis arm in a sling, was to have taken a part in it, so when the prizes were awarded, and the cheering for the victorious crew had somewhat subsided, Rogers called out: ‘‘And three times three, my hearties, for him, as you’d ha’ been cheering now, if it hadn’t been for an accident.’ Amid much laughter, the ‘‘hurrahs’’ were given. Captain Armstrong took the boys home with him; and after tea, Aubray, rising solemnly, looked around the table, and began: ‘I’ve just a few words tosay. Merely these: That I propose a vote of thanks to Clark—for what I need hardly specify.’’ ‘“*Agreed! agreed!’ *‘And I,’?* said the ‘‘cap’n,’’ rising and going up to the hero of the hour, ‘‘beg of him to,accept this book as a small mark of the respect I feel for him.’’ Clark attempted in vain to express his thanks. It was perfectly useless, so they all shouted ‘‘ Hear! hear!’’ and cheered him to the echo. And a happier, merrier party than that gathered around the ‘‘cap’n’s’’ dining-table could not have been found in Baymouth, and I doubt in all the United States. EWS iGLUBS. is for GOooD inserted NOTICE.—This column No notices will be {SPECIAL NEWs Clubs only. excepting such as are genuine GOOD NEWS Club notices, and nothing in the shape of an advertise- ment will be allowed. Every club notice should have the names of the president and secretary of the club attached. For information concerning GOOD Nrws Club Badge and Electrotypes see ad. vertisement on last page. | nana CLUB CHAT. new club is the Goop News Nutmeg Exchange Club, and it See notice below. The National Goop Nrws_ Club of the World, Rochester, N. Y., is about to start a stamp depart- ment in its paper and desires an editor for it. Arthur H. Wild, 167 Lewis street, Chicago, IIL, would like to hear from officers of clubs who are in favor of organizing a Goop NEws Officers’ Club. Chas. Trick, Chicago, would like to hear from all Chicago readers who are employed in the down-town district, and who would be interested in organizing a Goon Nrws Working Boys’ Club, admitting Chicago boys only who could afford to pay fifty cents a month dues, which would enable the club to rent a room in some down-town office building, and fit it up asa first-class club-room, where the winter evenings might be spent to the ‘mutual improvement of the members. Would be pleased to answer all letters ad- dressed to 71 Fowler street, Chicago, Ill. The last State Corresponding and Somes etieniestion CLUB NOTICKS. The collector who is waiting for some one to come along who will heip him increase the number of stamps in his collection will wait a long time. The only way to increase your collection is by your own efforts, and there are different modes of doing this. The true pleasure of collecting is what the word signi- fies; the next best thing is the old-time custom of barter, oras we Yankees call it, ‘‘swapping.” It is no doubt a good thing to fill out a want list, and send itto some dealer to obtain certain stamps to complete a prized set, but how much better it isshould you stumble over that very stamp by accidental ex- | change with a loss of a duplicate of equivalent value? That stamp is certainly worth more in your eyes than a stamp ordered from a dealer, partly that one is expected, and there is no more bistory abvut it than a void in your pocket-book, for nine times out of ten its full catalogued value had to be paid, Every col- lector has his duplicates, which he is glad to dispose of for stamps not in his collection, especially so when value against value is given. The Goop Nrws Phil- atelic Club not only does this, but as it can’t get around its by-laws any other way, refunds the initia- tion fee, which is a nominal 10 cents, silver or stamps, as convenient, by an agricultural stamp, worth triple thatamount. Not only our exchange department, which has 3,500 duplicates, will be of benefit to you, but also our counterfeit detector, and weekly auction, where you can send stamps to be sold with or without reserve. So join our live, energetic, up-to-date phila- telic club, which, if we do say so, we believe we are. John Henderson, president; Charles W. Heins, secre- tary, 517 East 70th street, New York city. Important notice! Read the following reasons why you should join the Goop Nrws Young People’s Union; 1. Because this club sends its members all the reading matter they can peruse. 2. Because we send you a list of members every month. 3..Because we publish a dandy twenty-four-column club paper, which we send free to all members for one year. 4. Because we have a large number of young lady mem- bers, who will correspond and exchange photos. 5. Because you can soon have your room decorated with the photographs of pretty young ladies. 6. Because we want a manager in every town and city, and if you are the first one joining from your town you will be appointed to that office. 7. Because if you join now you can join for a dime and six 1-cent stamps. 8. Be- cause there are no dues. 9. Because the admission fee just covers cost of mailing expenses. 10. Because we give away a camera and typewriter, free, to mem- bers every month. ‘11. Because ladies are admitted free. 12. Because all joining receive a valuable pres- ent, free. Now, reader, if you want to become one of a happy, merry organization, sit down and write @ letter, inclosing 16 cents, to W. E. Taliaferro, secre- tary, South Atlanta, Ga. Girls! Girls! Girls! How would you like to have @ good young gentleman correspondent? Boys, how would you like to have a nice sweet lady correspond- ent? We know what the answer to these questions would be from every up-to-date boy and girl. Well, you can be satisfied in this respect by joining the Goop Nrws Scraps and Patches Corresponding Clu of Tacoma, Wash. We offer good inducements. The first joining has his or her choice between a love story; or a story of African adventure. Both booksare neW and nicely cloth-bound. Every fifth joining receives a nice paper-covered book, valued at 50 cents; eveTy tenth receives a fine present; every one joining Te a smh Gutke Cos =e ewrmaes Te hw aa eo be eee Pe we ee ee Ne Control it as to make the curves useful. ae are in its course. [ _ Several sh GooD NEWS. ceives Scraps and Patches for one year, free, our cer- tificate of membership, and has ‘ printed in our mail and corresponding list. The initi- ation fee is 14 cents; dues, 2 cents per month. Address the secretary, George F. Linguist, 2534 J street, Ta- coma, Wash. The Golden Star of the Goop NEWS was organized July 10, 1895. ‘The following officers were elected: E. DeWitt Johnson, president; Clarence Carlton, vice- president; Charles F. Johnson, secretary and treas- urer. The objects are correspondence and the study of modern literature, For the three months, begin- ning with August 1, 1895, we study the life and writ- ings of Jules Verne. Cash prizes will be given for the best essays on his life and principal writings. The winning essay will be published in pamphlet form and sent to all members. ‘To all joining in August we will give, besides one book by the author which we are studying, membership list and membership card, one fine silk badge. The fee is 25 cents to join, and dues 25 cents every three months. Address all commuui- cations to C. F. Johnson, secretary, Box 95, Friend- ship, N. Y. Look, we want to enlarge our list of members, and in order to do so we have lowered the fee to 5 cents, silver. We publish a club paper called the Club Reporter, in which our readers can have exchange notices inserted free, and can write stories for it. — contains a stamp department, jokes, short stories, odds and ends, ete.. Come join, we have lots of fun. List of members is published in the Club Reporter. The National Goop News Club of the World is our name, what do you think of it? Ladies will be ad- mitted for three ic. stamps. The Club Reporter sent three months to all joining. If you wish to know any more about the club send a stamp, and we will send you a copy of our club paper, and a list of members. Address Allen C. Hatch, 211 Monroe avenue, Roches- ter, N. Y. Well, fellow readers, here we are! that you have been waiting to join. ‘‘Which is that?’’ yousay. Why, the Goop News Nutmeg State Cor- responding and Exchange Club, to be sure. If this Club is new, its officers are not young in experience, Therefore, knowing the ‘King of Boys’ Weeklies” to | be the rock upon which this club is built, do not hesitate, but join at once, while the initiation fee is so low. To the first and third joining we will give a fine novel. First one joining from each State is made representative of same. Initiation fee, 5 cents; no dues. Ladies and foreigners free. William J. Ma- lone, president; Joseph Dutton, secretary. Address the secretary, at Forestville, Conn. The Goop News Fidelity Corresponding Club is the organization to join. Read the name carefully. You ‘know what Goop NEws means? very well; and fidelity means faithfulness—we are, to our promises—corre- sponding means to write, and club means to join to- gether. So, since that is explained, we will tell you what we offer to all who join our corresponding club. We send a list of members to all, and a package of circulars and amateur papers. For the summer months the admission fee will be 6 cents; no dues. Ladies and foreignersadmitted for 3cents. Come and join, for we are a jolly lot. Address E. F, Molen, secretary, Sioux City, Iowa. The presidentis A. P. Molen. The Goop News Musigal Club of Anita, Iowa, is now in a position to be classed among the big clubs. We have pushed steadily upward until we now have a club of which any secretary might be proud. We even have imitators, and that means the most sincere flattery. We do not try to have the world by the heels, or, in other words, to try each new “scheme” that has anything to do with corresponding clubs; but you will always find our notice in the old re- liable Goop News. We have just issued a new list of members. Would you like one? Send in your initia- tion fee, 10 cents, and we'll make you a full-fledged Member. C. J. McKinley, secretary. Victor St. Clair, one of the popular authors of Goop News, is a member of the GooD News World Corre- sponding Club of Chicago, Ill. Join this club and correspond with him. ‘This is a good, old, and reli- able club, and the initiation fee is within the reach of you all. All our members are pleased with the way the club is conducted, and so will you be upon joining. We are notin this business to make money, but to bring the readers of the ‘King of Boys’ Weeklies” into closer fellowship with one another. fee, 15 cents; no dues, H. Wild, 167 Lewis street, Chicago, Il. If secretaries will forward list of officers and mem- bers of their philatelic clubs to Geo. C. Crowley, 1358 xington avenue, New York city, he will forward them a big bundle of philatelic papers free. Bundle of reading matter of all kinds, and application blanks to in the G. N. ©. of N. Y., for stamp to pay postage. 0 fees, no dues. Believing that a club for philatelists only is one of the heeds of the readers of Goop News, I am going to | ask all, who practice that pleasure, and desire to ex- Change stamps and information to write me. I will hot even ask you to inclose stamp. Address John arr, Jr., 177 S. Main street, Fall River, Mass. __ Join Decatur’s Goop News Corresponding Club: Initiation fee, 10 cents; no dues; ladies’free. Card of Membership by return mail. Address Percy Ewing, 50 W. Main street, Decatur, Il. ue Qur Mail Bag. ad nestions on subjects of general interest only are Sealt with in the “Mail Bay.” Medical or legal questions not answered. Goop NEWS goes to press. oO weeks in advance of date of publication, aud there- Ore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks titer we receive them. Conmuunications intended for Bis column should be addressed Goop News “Mail az,” P.O. Box 2734, New York City.) ao R. W. D., Wayne, Neb.—Curve pitching cannot be b ght by book or other directions. It must be learned ‘SY actual practice and experience. The principles of Making a ball curve, however, may be explained. Let the young aspirant grasp the ball firmly in his hand, giving the pressure with his forefinger and _jalddie finger. Theothertwo fingers should be drawn toward the palm. Next let him snap the ball first Ut of one side of the hand and next out of the other bh €. He will soon learn the effect these movements _J@ve on the ball. Then he must practice faithfully to Strange as an ney seem, it is much more difficult for the beginner throw or pitch a straight ball than one that describes This is so because of the natural Ndency of the player to throw the ball out of the side Pha hand. To pitch a straight ball, it is mecessary Bt a) the two fingers which grasp the ball should be Dla, ht uP and down, with their backs in front of the a mat ashe throws. Beyond these few hints it is al- Hates impossible to give any intelligible instructions. e abi! depend almost entirely on the young player’s il ty, inclination, and perseverance, how much of a ; fuccess he will make at curve pitching. He cannot Ye too much practice, but he should take care not to €r exert himself. It is not necessary to exert all his Breas He can practice curves without putting his test speed into the ball. le Jerry, Fdgemere, L. I.—Oliver Optic wrote _ ; 2 GP Goon News ‘‘Where He Got His Money,” “The On the Island,” ‘Nothing But a Boy,” and ort stories. Lieutenant Lounsberry has c his or her name | Just the club | Initiation | Address the secretary, Arthur / Luck,” “Captain Carey of the Gallant Seventh,’ “The Treasure of the Golden Crater,’ ‘‘Won at West Point,’ “The Pluck ofa Pilot,” “Friends or Foes,’? and “Center-Board Jim,”’ which will be begun in the next number. Edward Stratemeyer has written ‘The Tin Box Mystery,” “Jack the Inventor,’’ ‘Camera Bob,’ Tom,” “Joe the Surveyor,” ‘Larry the Wanderer,’ and ‘fhe Young Auctioneer.” Arthur M. Winfield has written ‘‘Missing Money,” “Stolen Gold,” “The Schooldays of Fred Harley.”’ W. #F., Chicago, Ill.—1. There is no premium on the dime of 1830. 2. Postage stamps in the form of stamped envelopes were first used by M. de Velayer, who owned a private post in the city of Paris in | the reign of Louis XIV. them now, were not put in use until 1840, “Lieutenant Carey’s ’ This was in by Rowland Hill. United States authorized the issue 3. We do not know the exact amount. 4. The initia- tion fees of the Goop NEwS clubs vary. See announce- ments in club column. 5. Time-pieces of one kind or another have been used since far back inantiquity. It of postage stamps. piece wasmade. 6. Your handwriting now is most ex- cellent. T. H. G., Halifax, N. S.—There are various water- ends, etc., of aquaria. The following is one of the best: Take of finely powdered litharge, fine, white, dry sand, and plaster of Paris, each three parts, by measure; finely pulverized resin, one part. Mix thoroughly and make into a paste with boiled linseed oil, to which dryer has been added. Beat the mixture well, and let it stand four or five hours before using it. After it has stood for 15 hours, however, it loses its strength. When well made, of good materials, this cement will unite glass and iron so firmly that the | glass will often split in its own substance rather than part from the cement. | Glass cemented into its frame with this cement is good for either salt or fresh water. Charilliam, New York city.—1. The copyright of a story lasts for twenty-eight years. It can then be re- newed for fourteen more. 2. Tocopyright a book send copy of title-page to the Librarian of Congress with 50 cents. Two copies of the book must be sent upon pub- book. This is all that is necessary. 3. No, no one can assume the authorship after expiration of copyright. 4. You don’t mean “retribution,’’ do you? Isn’t it “indemnification?” He can bring a suit, if necessary. 5. Yes. 6. Weare very much obliged to you for your information, and will give the matter our immediate attention. owes its uses to the power of magnetism. That invaluable instrument consists of magnetized needle to point always toward the north. To the upper side of the magnet is attached, so as to move round with it, a card with the four cardinal and twenty-eight inter- mediate pointg marked upon it. The magnet and card are inclosed in & circular brass box, covered above with glass, to prevent the card being thrown off its horizontal position by the motion of the ship. C. H. W., Washington, R. I.—1. Yes, you can learn ventriloquism from a book. Itissimply a matter of practice. Read articles in Nos. 232 and 233 of Goop Nerws, or send to Street & Smith for their catalogue. | 2. There has been considerable talk about selecting a | flower as a national emblem for the United States, but | nothing has been decided upon. The golden-rod seems | to be the general favorite. Peter Piper, Deckertown, N. J.—1. There is no pre- mium on the 1832 half-dollar. 2. We have no single | numbers of Vols. 2 and 3. 3: “Center-Board Jim,” | next week. a new story by Lieutenant Lounsberry, will be begun 4. We will consider the suggestion. 5. “Shorthand | and | written ‘Cadet Carey,’ ‘Midshipman Merrill,” STEAM ENGINE:—The Electrical Exchange | Club, 85 Beech street, Indianapolis, Ind., will give a steam engine in good order, for Scientijic American, after 1891, in good condition, and valued at not less than $10. Write for list of other things and get ours. READING MATTER.—T. F. Chesebrough, P. O. 30x 144, Northport, Long Island, N. Y., has boys’ novels and libraries to exchange for best offer; also would like to hear from any one who has Vol. 1 of Goop Nr¥ws, or the first partof Vol. 2to exchange. All letters answered. MISCELLANEOUS.—L. O. Lohr, Orange City, [owa, has ten bound books, twenty novels, ten comic | libraries, book on natural history, natural curiosities, 5 | scope, a watchmaker’s gut stamps, as we know | England, the Government adopting the system devised | March 3, 1847, the Congress of the | valuable foreign coins, a globular chemical micro- lens, ten piano solos, and mineral ore to exchange fora-good snare drum and sticks. All letters answered. READING MATTER.—JamesC. lin street, Milwaukee, Wis., has GoopD NEwS Nos. 221, 229, 230, No. 234 to 240, inclusive, No. 244 to 252, eral numbers of other boys’ papers, several paper- | | bound books: also a few novels, to exchange for best is impossible to say when and where the first time- | offer in reading matter. ferred. STAMPS.—N. R. Lowry, 3306 King street, Austin, | Texas, has a good stamp album to erychange for a proof cements which can be used for joining the sides, | lication, and notice of copyright must be printed in | |} exchange for not Nimble Jerry, Peoria, U1l.—The mariner’s compass | of steel, poised freely on its center, soas to enable it | 15c. Columbian; stamp album, 300 foreign stamps, and 500 stamp hinges for a 30c. Columbian; collection valued at $5; or a $1.50 stamp album fora $1 Colum- | bian. MISCELLANEOUS.—Edtnund B. Howe, Fitzwilliam Depot, N. H., will exchange 400 Ic., 2c., 3c., 4c., and 5e. stamps, and seven International Revy- enue 2 Goop News. AU letters and postals answered. TYPEWRITER, ETC.—Percy Ewing, 750 W. Main street, Decatur, Ill., has a good Odell typewriter, a lot of electrotypes, and printing material to exchange for best offer. ‘ MISCELLANEOUS.—Jacob Wagner, Jr., 1802 Broadway, Camden, N. J., has ten whole cakes of Newman water colors, one water and one oil color pad, one sketch book (5x7), two studies, $3 worth of | novels, 150 picture cards, 200 different stamps, to ex- | change for stamps, books on stamps, or best offer. READING MATTER.—John Roberts, Box 400, Ard- more, Ind. T., has the following 25 and 50-cent books: * Against Odds,” ‘‘Across Texas on a Mexican Mus- tang,’ and the Leather Stocking Tales, by Cooper— “The Deerslayer,” ‘The Last of the Mohicons,” ‘The Pioneers,” ‘The Pathfinder,” and ‘*The Prairie’’—to less than twenty-six numbers of boys’ papers in good condition, and in running order. MISCELLANEOUS.—Charlie Stahl, Gorham, N. H., would like to exchange cloth and paper bound books, novels, papers, water color paintings (size 18x 36), and a lot of other useful articles, valued at $6, for a bicyclist’s outing bag, cyclometer, or Columbian stamps. All letters answered. READING MATTER,—Chas. Hessler, 272 Hamil- ton street, New Haven, Conn., would like to exchange twenty-seven numbers of the Illustrated American, seven 25-cent novels, and Goop News from 245 to 266 inclusive. Exchange made in part orin full. Lettérs answered soon. Near- by offers preferred. MISCELLANEOUS.—William J. Malone, Fore ville, Conn., has about 175 boys’ papers, in the very best condition; a ‘‘History of England,” “Life of Daniel about twenty-five 5 and 10-cent novels, a “History of Rome,” about fifty Columbian stamps, a fife, ‘‘Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,” a magic lan- tern, and about fifteen other novels to exchange fora s00ne,” ' self-inking printing press (5x8, or larger), in good con- | Your handwriting is very good indeed. 6. If you will } send us your real name, we will forward you the cata- | logue with pleasure, E. S., Mattawan, N. Y.—1. Wecannot tell you what a 30-foot sloop would cost in Florida, 2. Yes. the per West Fiftieth street. 8. Yes, you can enlist at any time. 4, The physical examination is very strict, but, | if you are sound im other respects, we do not think what you mention would debar you. Constant Reader, Nashville, lenn.—l. There is no penny of 1885. 7 1 is uncommon. You might obtain a small sum for it from some coin dealer. P. M. A., Colorado Springs, Col.—l. The swallow is probably the fastest flying bird. 2, The next Presi- | dential election takes place in November, 1896, 3. Alix has the best mile record for trotting, 2.03 3-4. N. D. C. #H., Somerville, Mass.—We cannot answer medical questions in this column. But from what you say in your letter, we advise you to consult a doctor without delay. J. R., Chicago, Tll.—1, You can address the authors named, care of this office, and we will forward your letters to them. 2. No, we do not think it would be a good idea. Constant Reader, Louisville, Ky.—Write to the Sec” retary of Agriculture, Washington, D. C., and also to the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, L. B. Rodda.—You neglected to give any address in your exchange notice. Please supply omission and we shall be glad to publish. W. B., Meridian, Miss.—The Robert E. Lee. She made the passage from New Orleans to Natchez in 16h. 86m. and 47s. R. B.C, Rising Sun, Ind.—We do not know how many cents were coined in 1877. They are worth only their face value. FE. M., Marshall, Texas.—-Neither of the authors mentioned write for Goop NEws. 7. 8., Fordham, N. Y.—You write an excellent busi- ness hand. > [Several communications left over to be answered next aweek, | ; , XCHANGE EPARTMENT. \exv9 Biers ay {Imporranr.—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” advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-arnis, explosives, dangerons or worthless articles. If exchange notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it miay be understood that they were not accepted. Address al] communications for this coluinn to “Exchange De- partment.”] % GOLD WATCH — “VICTOR”. GUITAR. — E. B. Bachman, Kosciusko, Miss., would like to exchange a fine gold watch and new Victor guitar (inlaid), fora first-class pneumatic-tire bicycle, worth not less than 5. c READING MATTER.— Early Moorman, Mar- shall, Texas, has fifteen Goop Nrws, a large number of other boys’ papers, three 50-cent books, twelve 25- cent novels, two bound books, picture cards, and a lot of magazines to exchange for Goop News before 223, or other story papers. | | i | manent quarters of the Minnesota is at the foot of dition, or fortype. All letters answered. BOYS’ PAPERS.—John Cremer, 301 East Western avenue, Muskegon, Mich., has twenty-three boys’ papers to exchange for Goop Nrws, from 154 to 174; also twenty Goop News, from 110 to 130. STAMPS.—Ernest Lutz, 816 Second avenue, New York city, will give fifteen foreign stamps for every 3,4,5 and 10c. stamp of 1890 or 1894 issue, and fifty foreign for6or 8¢c.,and eighty foreign for all over }10c. of the same issue; also thirty foreign for every 3,4,5 and 10c.Columbian stamp, sixty-five for every |} 6and 8c., and 100 for all over 10c.; will give 150 for- premium on the copper cent of 1845, or on the English | 2. The Abraham Lincoln medal is not | eign for every 100 1 and 2c. Columbians. STAMPED ENVELOPES. — Edward Stern, 2250 Jefferson avenue, Fordham, New York city, will give three 4c. carmine envelopes, 1887, for any or every | orf of the following: 2c. brown 1869, 30c. black 1872, or 30c. black 1890; two for every 15c. 1890 or 1893 issue, or 10c. 1861. MISCELLANEOUS. — Henry Goetz, 106 Hester street, New York city, has twenty-two Goop NEws, twenty-five other boys’ papers, 300 picture cards, and asilver watch to exchange for best offer in bound volumes of Goop Nrws, except Vol. 2; also, eighty- five foreign stamps for best offer. All letters an- swered, * READING MATTER.—R. H. Sankey,. Box 454, Greenville, Pa., has fifty numbers of boys’ papers, in good condition, to exchange for twenty-five numbers of comic libraries, or best offer in Goop NEws. STAMPS.—D. H. Stiles, 243 East 44th street, New York city, will give fifteen foreign stamps for. every 3, 4, 5 and 10c. United States, 1890 or 1894 issue; thirty different foreign for every See States en- velope over 2c., present issue, or for 6 and 8c, 1890 and 1894 issue; twenty-five different for every 3, 4, 5, 8 and 10c. Columbians. GOOD NEWS.—Carl E. Moffatt, Winsted, Conn., has the first four volumes of Goop NEws, in binders, to exchange for best offer. No trash wanted. STAMPS.—Ira Thomas, Sugar Notch, Luzerne County, Pa., has eighty-one, all different, foreign and United States stamps, mounted in a globe album, to exchange for an 8 and 15c. Columbians, or 3c. Colum- bian; also twenty-one different foreign stamps to ex- change for an 8c. United States, 1894 issue; seventy common United States and Columbians to exchange for a 15c. United States 1894 issue. PICTURE CARDS.—Howard P. Skinner, 13 West Barre street, Baltimore, Md., will give a picture card for every Columbian stamp sent him over the 2c. stamp. Inclose stamp for reply. BIRDS’ EGGS.—W. E. Baltz, 1928 West Benton avenue, Springfield, Mo., has red shouldered hawks’, sparrow hawks’, crows’, redbirds’, Ben Martins’, bluebirds’, wrens’, English sparrows’, brown thrushs’, orchards’ and Baltimore orioles’ eggs to ex- change for foot-ball. READING MATTER,.—F. R. Patrick, St. Joseph County, Constantine, Mich., bas twenty story papers, eighteen 5 and 10-cent novels, two 25-cent novels, and two cloth-bound books, valued at 50 cents each, to exchange for best offer in anything. MISCELLANEOUS,—James Perkins, 630 Archer street, N. E., Washington, D. C., has boys’ papers, thirty 5-cent magazines, boys’ spy-glass, books, 400 por- traits of actresses, foot-ball and key, 100 different pos- tage stamps, and a Columbian Exposition medal, all worth $10, to.exchange for a banjo, guitar, or man- dolin. COLUMBIAN STAMPS.—Frank J. Massmann, Delphos, Ohio, bas high value Columbian stamps to exchange for best offer. STAMPS.—Philip Vogel, 910 Berryhill street, Nash- ville, Tenn., will give 1,000 red 2c. stamps for every twenty-five United States Revenues sent him. Reilly, 720 Frank- | ) Vol. 6 of Goop NEWS pre- | 30x 189, | 25c., 50. stamps, two 10-cent novels, one detect- | ive book, pant guards, watch chain, ete., for Vol. 3 of | Longfellows poems, for | ALTDS GOOD NEWS.—Ben. L. Morris, Bellaire, Ohio, has Goop News, from No. 228 to No. 260, bound in paper | covers, to exchange for best offer in philatelic papers. Send list. BOYS’ PAPERS.—Ed. Long, 1020 Clay street, Paducah, Ky., hasa volume of boys’ papers to ex- change for a printing press and type, ora good stem- winding watch. READING MATTER.—Bobert Riemsdijk, 1297 Mil- waukee avenue, care of J. Carney, Chicago, Ill., has Goop NrEws from 198 to 272, and thirty 5-cent novels, to exchange for steam engine, value notless than $4. All letters answered. READING MATTER.—Edwin F. Lufkin, 608 Saratoga street, East Boston, Mass., has the following named books to exchange for Needen or other toy steam engines: ‘‘Before and Behind the Curtain,” “The Rival Boat Clubs,’ “Boy Caribou Hunters; or, the Treasure Trove of Hudson Bay,” ‘“‘Burdett’s New Comic Recitations,’’ ‘‘The Mystery of Love Making Made Easy,” ““The Young American’s Letter Writer,” “The Secrets of Cleopatra’s Beauty,’ and twelve complete novelettes; also 5 and 10-cent hovels, for mechanical toys or banks. READING MATTER.—Walter Hoke, Kendallville, Ind., has Goop NEws and other papers, and some 5 and 10-cent novels to exchange for books by Ellis, | Alger, Optic, Graydon, or Otis, or for United States or | foreign stamps, or best offer. MISCELLANEOUS.—Ray Loomis, 942 N. Hazel | street, Danville, Ill., hasan $8 tenordrum, a Kombi camera, cost $3.50, only two films used in it, and 100 2x8 photo views of Mexico, ($10), to exchange for a camera that takes 4x5 views. All letters answered. CAMERA.—Frank Ternetz, Jr., care of H. A, Schmidt, Union Trust B’ld’g, St. Louis, Mo., would like to hear from persons having camera or Kodak to }exchange. Can make good offer. All letters an- | swered. READING MATTER.—Joe Goldsmith, 4434 N, | Market street, St. Louis, Mo., hasShakespeare’s plays, complete in one volume, books on the following: science, photography, ventriloquism, book-keeping manual; Goop Nrws from 273 to present number, and a few novels to exchange for best offer. Photog- raphers goods preferred. No stamps. | KODAK.—Ernest E. Grassly, 1246 S. Main street, Jacksonville, I1l., has a B ordinary Kodak, with out- fit, to exchange for a typewriter. Odell or Merritt | preferred. COLUMBIAN STAMPS.—Ed. Krebs, Jefferson, Wis., will give 500 canceled Columbian stamps, of the 1 and 2c. issue, for Nos. 63, 67, 68 of Goop NEws. POSTAL CARDS.—Edward Stern, 2250 Jefferson avenue, Fordham, New York city, will give one United States postal card worth 50c. forevery 5c., 12c., or 24c., of 1861 issue, 10c. or 12c. 1868, 1c. 1869, 7c., 12., or 90c., 1872, or for every two 30c., 1890 issue. Any | quantity taken. READING MATTER.—James Nuckols, Hartford . City, Ind., has sixty-nine boys’ papers, one magazine, | and two 5-cent novels to exchange for Goop NEws | from No. 90 to 155. All letters answered. | STAMPSJohn E. Baker, Box 184, Saint Paris, Ohio, has sheets of foreign stamps to exchange for stamps or old coins. All letters answered. PHOTOGRA PHIC SUPPLIES.—Kenneth Thomas, y. Y. Bayshore, Greenville, N. J., would like to hear from all persons having photographic supplies to ex- | change, such as dry plate holder, print trimer, 4x5 mounts, ete. Would like especially to have dry plate holder. Send stamp for answer. CONFEDERATE BILIS.—Elvin D. George, Staun- ton, Ill, will exchange Confederate bills for old curios, All letters, but no postals answered. AMATEUR PAPERS.—C. C. Crowley, 1358 Lex- ington avenue, New York city, has 100 amateur pa- pers to exchange for every volume of Goop NEWws later than Vol. 7 sent him. Volumes of papers to ex- change also. List for stamp. Correspondence in- vited, especially abroad. : STAMPS.—Wm. Nordquist, Camden Place, Minn., has United States stamps and envelopes to exchange for volumes of Goop NEws. TELEGRAPH KEY AND SOUNDER.— Chas. Hill, care of W. W. Browning, Trinidad, Col., has a good telegraph key and sounder, on board, ready for battery attachment, to exchange for best offer in stamps or a good fife. Fife preferred. BOOKS.—H. C. Gidman, Norfolk, Conn., has “Dorymates,” by Kirk Monroe, and ‘“‘The West from a Car.Window,” by R. Harding Davis, to exchange for a pair of opera-glasses or best offer. MISCELLANEOUS,.—Clarence Musselman, Falls City, Neb., has the following, all in good condition: books of all kinds, 5 and 10-cent novels, 2-lb. Indian clubs, 6x6ft. dip-net, fishing tackle, etc., to exchange for back volume of Good Nrws.* Only volumes wanted and must be in good condition. Prefer volume from 1 to 7 or 8. PUZZLE CARDS.—Bert Bromley, Sixth and Wal- nut streets, Des Moines, Iowa, will give one puzzle card with any one’s name and address on it for one 5- cent novel, or two cards for one 10-cent novel, and will also send key to puzzle. Send novel and he will send puzzle by return mail. STORY PAPERS.—Otto A. Hartmann, 2 Wilkin street, Rochester, N. Y., would like to hear from per- sons having coins (silver only), to exchange for story papers, etc. Send list and receive hls in return. MISCELLANEOUS.—Frank C. Knapp, 34 Dela- ware avenue, Albany, N. Y., bas Vols. 8, 9, 10 of Goop News to the latest number, an ebony one-keyed flute and accordion in good condition, to exchange for an A. or C. clarionet. a JOHNNY’S AMUSING ANSWER. As we all know, schoolmasters get con- siderable enjoyment out of the funny an- swers they receive from their pupils; but it would scarcely seem that arithmetic was a subject likely to produce much in the way of amusement. However, the following good story is told by a teacher in Chicago: ‘‘A few days ago I asked the question of my boys: ‘ “If eight men could do a job in a day, how many could be expected to do it ‘in three days?’ ‘‘T was surprised to find Johnny Edwards hold up bis hand. Johnny is generally dull at mental arithmetic, but this time he seemed bursting with eagerness. *¢ *Well, Johnny, you may answer.’ ‘¢ Two men and my brother Bill would just do,’ said the urchin. ‘* «Your brother Bill? What do you mean?’ ‘* ‘Well, sir, I think the right answer is two men and two-thirds, and my brother Bill is fourteen years old to-day. You know you told us that boys got to be men when they were twenty one, so Bill ’ud just do.’ a ~«) FINE STAMPS 5 CTS., 75 fine stamps and This cut is the exact opi 500 stamp mounts 10 cts., 100 fine stampa and 1 size and style of the sheet gummed paper stamp album 15 cts., or the en- Goop News Club Badge. tire lot for only 25 cts. Fine approval sheets at 50 per he badge is made of a cent. commission. I buy all kinds of stamps. Send high grade of German or describe what you have. CHAS. C. ROGERSS, 115 silver; artistic in design W. 15th St., N. Y. city. and something every Mention Good News. | reader will be proud to 3 Soar Seas | wear, Any reader send- | pate ing us 10 centsin stamps ; | | J Giving allof the ov silver will receive a [- Varsman$ ManwUal, most xawavre | baile hints for the} Electrotypes for print- | | practice of this sport. 30th amateur and pro- | | ing the badge on letter | | fessional. Written by a well-known expert. To 1} heads, cards, ete » will be a | | those about to learn and those already proficient sent post-paid on receipt aX Ys | | in the manly sport, this book will be found very ‘ of twenty-five cents. Uy SE HET , Ten cents is all that is required to secnre this Uj ity LitiTty Uy i | handsome badge. Address Goop NkErws Corre Uy tba - ’ ; sponding Club, 29 Rose street, New York. (ea eRe OU ea Ts Ri pp a ey ; Eas BOUND VOLUMES OF GOOD r. YEWS : BY “PETER.” z i We have issned volumes two, three, k badd’ four, five and six, boundin an attrac. Mae iy, dl AY : t Baw, tive heavy paper cover. ‘I'wenty-six CHAPTER IV. yo’ ll be all tight. Now den, attention! For numbers constitute a volume. ‘Ihe thee ane sas das ‘ ore peers, are cut and trimmed and 7RASTUS JOINS THE ZULU GUARDS. iveryboady moved put “hastus, - ound with as much care as an expensive cloth RASTU He remained as if glued to the spot. <= a binding, and the prices are TH HE way ’Rastus paid back Finnigan ‘‘Why didn’t yo’ step out?’’ cried Captain eee Benatar t= ok toes Late Vols. 2 and 8, $1 Each. ~ in his own coin, kept the Irishman | Guff. useful, It teaches Coaching, Reach, Finish, 4, straight for quite a while. | ‘*T took de position,’’ replied our coon. Beane Neate Seniitig: Bt Ot eho ta tee Vols. 4, 5 and 6, 85c. Each. se tna s at if saved any | ‘Wasn't dats ‘ ‘ay necessary??? Siic Seats, SC §, Ovo, 4 , ” He was afraid that if he played any | W asn t dat all dat war necessary? trated, and will be sent, postpaid, to any address These volumes contain serial stories by more jokes, old Latinass would get ontohim,| ‘‘No, if warn’t.”’ on receipt of 10 cents. Address, MANUAL|| pa yoigs. Ellis Horatio Al and fire him out : ‘*Yo’ said so afore.’’ LIBRARY, 29 Rose St., New York. 7 a ane oratio Alger, In the meanwhile ’Rastus found the time} ‘‘I didn’t.’? ; ome as, vee) Edward Stratemeyer, hang heavily on his hands. ‘Yo? did, wen I chased ’round wid de MILLS’ Harry Castlemon, Wm. Murray Graydon, a He was out, down at the poker club, and | bayneit.’? fe i ¥ Walter Morris, Oliver Optic, j pop Squinter, Mame’s father, objected “Dat war different. Now, march! W. B. Lawson, Lieut. Lounsberry, . strongly to his coming around every night And off Rastus Peat a cia Wi ; And others equally well known, and burning oil at his expense. _As he neared the end of the hall, Captain Address Subscription Department Goov News, ‘(Ise got. ter do sumfin’,’’ he observed to | Guff yelled to him to left face. 29 Rose street, New York. Cute Jones, a friendly coon, one day. ‘‘Ef I But ’Rastus kept right on. Wehauis One ut. weiuc. don’t, I’ll rust so I’ll drap ter pieces.’’ He ascended the’ platform, walked past the ee pai es Se ei PEL a aaa ‘*Why doan yer jine de guards?’’ asked desk, and run ker bunk into Major Sudge, co BOA S HOW TO MODEL, SAIL Cute. who was figuring up the expense of getting bik I s AND BUILD A BOAT. ¥ a Hie Sag t 1is boo i ‘“ Wot guards??? ' up a tug-of-wa é i Y over aie Ada Everything relating to boats is fully {llustrated \ ! “De Zulu Guards—finest in the town. The major was a stout man, weighing dred pages, v8 ae viet pale saree i avold- ° f We've got a uniform dat is de exact imita- | close on to three hundred. _ Contains com- | ters on modeling a boat, ship Salidiigs tion ob de Prince ob Wales, and de toniest He had been sitting on the very edge of | VET ery rigging of ship,etc. Amongtheillus- @ ° ¢ ‘ ack ek Ef ? > tags 4 v a trations will be found: model for lot oy ey ae State. ’” oe as a = rolled off on the platform, | branches of | deck of cutter, diagram of forma _ ry} ’ act , Fa : ot’s de admission? anc 16n to the noor, } correspon d- | of boat, form of stern, model ” M y ‘*Five dollahs an’ de cost ob de rig.’’ ‘*Wot yo’ do dat fo’?’’ he demanded, as he | 6 BS &;' to» Sere) sheer plan of 4 / TE r i 3 J iy re ar ; 18) readth pian qi . J ‘Dat goes. Ull jine.’’ got up slowly. } he : esainplee ot | body plan, the keel- ” LX a, ‘¢Yose got ter be lected fust.’’ ‘* ?Cuse me, sah, but it war de cap’t’s or- letters | #0;Planking, cat- ’ “All right, Cute. Wot will dat cost??? | ders, sah,” replied ’Rastus. ee on every | splices, step. alka won’'e i 79 Cent, ’ - 2 99 vApy ai . * i ————— + vari d v ‘¢A tenner ’1l make yo’ solid. ‘Capt'n Guff, . cried the major, rolling | o¢ subject — Penmanship, Spelling, ene ping a : 8 i So ’Rastus forked over the dust, and a his eyes and breathing hard. Punctuations Use of Capitals, Abbreviations | oe.” week later Cute informed him that he had ‘* Yes, sah.’? : a ig hy to those who write for the press, le been duly elected a member. Major Sudge yanked out his sword, and tion, vacouumendution: Soca ehemeceeeinn rer ’ 4 a x : Pilea Alen 7 : , ine ¢ A , ’ , i » Social, gratuls 76 z re ‘‘An’ ‘cum ’round ter night an’ get put| went for the captain, who was standing in| and courtship, etc.; thie art of secret whither ‘Gans, Water Line 7 7 fru,’’ he added. the middle of the ball, his mouth wide open, | ness laws and maxims, rules of conducting public i : **Fra wot?’’ ‘*Will, tell er man ter knock me orfer de | Meetings, and all forms of conveying thought from ht ' ‘Des sari? de 1.2? slatform.”? cried the major one mind to another through the medium of | Soh fectustistis i am co) Inches e steps an’ de manuel. piatiorm, At ajor. written language. This valuable book will be sent ee erat i 3 EN And he made a wild slash for the captain with his sword. postpaid to any address on receipt of ten cents. So ’Rastus came around as he had been ] Address MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose St., New This valuable book, entitled Boys’ Own Book, of Boats, will be told. Cute introduced him ali around, and he was soon on good terms with every one. He had his measure taken for a rig, and then joined the awkward squad. Sergeant Popgun was in charge. ‘* All in line,’’ he shouted. ‘‘Toe de mark. Feet out ou an angle——’’ ‘*Whar’s de angle?’’ asked ’Rastus. ‘¢Dar an’t none, ’ceptin’ in yo’ head.’’ ‘*Wot’s dat!’’ cried ’Rastus. ‘‘Tate dat back! Dar an’t no angles in my noddle, an’ I wants yo’ ter know it.’’ *‘Oh, shet up! It means ter turn out yo’ toes dis way. Now den, eyes front! Eyes fright!’’ ¢ “T’se only got one right eye, an’——’’ ‘‘Turn yo’ eyes to de right. Now, eyes left! Front!’ ‘‘Yo’ tink I’se gwine ter roll my eyes *yound like er babby?’’ questioned ’Rastus, with a sniff. ‘*Yo’ got too, ef yo’ wanter jine de guards. Now der, try agin. Ah, dat’s better! Now, we'll try de foot motion. Right face!’ ‘*My face is allers right, an’——’’ began ’Rastus. Then Sergeant Popgun got mad. ‘*Who’s runnin’ dis squad?’’ he growled. ‘‘Nobuddy’s a-runnin’ it, it’s standin’ still,’’ replied our coon. ‘*Yo’ got ter keep quiet, or I won’s teach yo’,’’ returned Popgun, shaking his head. ‘*T hain’t been teached much yet,’’ grum- bled ’Rastus. ‘¢Now den, right face! front! Left face! Front! Dat’s good. Right about face!’ ‘*Wot’s de use ob screwin’ ’round on yo’ heel like dat?’’ growled ’Rastus. ‘‘It’s got ter be did, dat’s de reason,’’ cried Popgun. ‘‘An’ ef yo’ wasn’t sech an alfired ignerant nigger, I’d——”’ ‘*What!’’ howled ’Rastus. ‘‘I doan allow dat frum any man.’’ And he made a motion to pull out his razor. But a half dozen coons stopped him short. Then the captain took the squad in charge. *Rastus was givena gun with a bayonet on it, and put through the movements. Here he did fairly well, until it came to the order to charge. Then he went for Sergeant Popgun bald- headed. . He’ chased Popgun dround the hall three times, and could hardly be made to stop. “ought I’d do him up while 1 had de chance,’’ he observed. ‘“Yo’ is fined tree dollahs,’’ cried the cap- tain. ‘*Wot for?’’? howled our coon. ‘‘Didn’t yo’ say charge?’’ ‘*T only meant fo’ yo’ ter take de posi- tion,’’ replied Captain Guff, ‘‘Dat manuel is a fraud,’’ observed ’Ras- tus, ‘Well, jest yo’ mind yo’ Ps an’ Qs, an’ and Guff had to jump about ten feet to clear himself. ‘*Hol’ on, hol’ on!’ cried Captain Guff. ‘to’? de law’s sake! wot’s de matter, major?”’ But Major Sudge was too mad to explain. He made another slash for the captain, **T didn‘t run dat coon inter yo’,’’ he cried. ‘‘He’s a stupid nigger wot an’t got sense ’nough ter know his head from er bucket ob mush,’’ ‘Taint so,’? put in ’Rastus. ‘‘ Yo’ said for- ward march, and I marched till I couldn’t go no mo’. Ef yo’ wanted me ter stop why didn’t yo’ say so? I an’t no mine reader, fo’ ter read what agoin’ fru yo’ head.’’ And he banged Guff one over the shoulder with his musket. Instantly there was a cry. Guff was quite a favorite. ‘Take dat gun away from him!’’ ‘¢Put him out!”’ ‘¢He knocked ober de majah.’’ The next moment ’Rastus found himself surrounded. ‘‘He’s no good fo’ a Zulu guard,’’ cried the captain. ‘‘Fire him down de stairs.’’ ‘*Two kin play at dat game,’’ replied ’ Ras- tus. And he went for the crowd fist and razor. Down went three men like ten pins. ‘*1’se de boss coon ob de ward,’’ he yelled. ‘*Clear de track wen I make a move.’’ Suddenly a weight like a ton of bricks hit him in the neck. He did not know what it was, but it made him see the greatest fireworks ever exhibited. When he came to he was lying across an ash-barrel in a near-by alley. ‘‘Dat’s de time I made a bad miss,’’ he moaned, and wandered sadly homeward. (TO BE CONTINUED.) OE ——— DOUBTFUL ABOUT HIS FUTURE, The boy was all right, notwithstanding his girly curls, and a fond mother who was deathly afraid he was going to become coarse and vulgar, and in other respects masculine. One day a gentleman calling at the house engaged him in conversation. ‘*Well, my boy,’’ he said, after some time, ‘“‘what are you going to do when you grow. up?”’ The boy studied the question a moment. ‘*Really,’? he replied, at last, ‘‘I don’t know. I suppose I ought to be a man, but from the way mamma is handling me, I’m almost afraid I’m going to be a lady.’’ WARRIAGE PAPER with 1,000 ads. and photos York, CAPT. WEBB’S Price fulsport, is also the most healthy. Anyone can learn the art by giving careful atten- tion to the rules laid down in this book. ‘Che following motions are fully described and illus- trated: Floating, Kick, Arm, Breast, Side and Racing Strokes, Swimming on the Back, Hand-Over-Hand, Swim- ming ‘lricks, Plunging and Diving; also Parlor Practice, Artificial Aids, Bath Swimming, Cautions, Sea Bathing and Direc- tions for Restoring Apparently Drowned. This book will be sent, postpaid, to any address on receipt of 10 cents. Address, MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose St., New York. mal sent postpaid to any ad- 10c Address MANUAL LIBRARY, dress on receipt of price, . 29 Rose St., New York, Swimming 10 Cents- j sama nstructor Swimming, 1 1 besides be- oe, ing a use- Containing all the practical swim- ming motions | necessary. Al- most every ani- swims naturally on finding itself in water A the first 2 time. Good News Binder Price 50 Cents. Answers the purpose of a bound volume. Holding fifty-two copies comfortably. It 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 Nrws for future reference, and from being lost, but keeps them clean, and iD 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 directions for inserting the paper accompany each binder. We will send the Goop News binder, and a pack- age of binder pins, postpaid, to any address on ré- ceipt of 50 cents. MOTHERS Be sure to use “Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup” for your childre® while Teething. 25 cents a bottle There will be no reprint editions. AFLOAT WITH A CIRCUS; OR, THE DIAMOND-SEEKERS OF NATAL. By Henry L, BLACK. BOY CARIBAU-HUNTERS ; OR, THE TREASURE-TROVE OF HUDSON BAY. By Cuas. B. Cross. WESTWARD HO; OR, THE CABIN IN THE CLEARING. By Henry L. BLACK. ARTHUR HELMUTH. BY EDWARD 8. ELLIs. of marriageable people, many rich, lists of rare books, ete., free. GUNNELS’ MONTHLY, Toledo, Ohio, Mention Good News. BOOKS BY POPULAR AUTHORS! We will send to any address, post-paid, the following books, on receipt of the low price of TEN CENTS EACH, OR THREE FOR TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. Early orders requested. WORKING HIS WAY; OR, THE BROOKVILLE BOY’S CLUB. By DWIGHT WELDEN. : ALL ABOARD; OR, THE RIVAL BOAT CLUBS. By WELDEN C. CoBB. CAMP AND CANOE; THE RED Sxhicute IN FLORIDA. By ST GEORGE RATHBORNE. THE RAJAH’S FORTRESS. BY WM. MURRAY GRAYDON. e You may never again have such a good opportunity to secure stories by these celebrated authors at the remarkably low price of TEN CENTS EACH, OR THREE FOR TWENTY-FIVE OENTS: ; address STREET & SMITH, 29 Rose Street, New York.