ROMANCE OF CALIFORNIA LIFE

Illustrated by Pacific Slope Stories, Thrilling, Pathetic and Humorous

by

JOHN HABBERTON

Author Of "Helen's Babies"

1880

[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE]

INTRODUCTION

Many of the sketches contained in "Some Folks" were written by me duringthe past five years, and some of them published by Mr. Leslie in his_Illustrated Newspaper_ and his _Chimney Corner_, from which journalsthey have been collected by friends who believe that in these stories isdisplayed better workmanship than I have since done. For myself, I canclaim for them only an unusual degree of that unliterary and unpopularquality called truthfulness. Although at present mildly tolerated in theEast, I was "brought up" in the West, and have written largely fromrecollection of "some folks" I have known, veritable men and women, scenes and incidents, and otherwise through the memories of Westernfriends of good eyesight and hearing powers. 

Should any one accuse me of having imitated Bret Harte's style, I shallaccept the accusation as a compliment, for I know of no other Americanstory writer so worthy to be taken as a teacher by men who acceptablytell the stories of new countries. For occasionally introducingcharacters and motives that would not be considered disgraceful invirtuous communities, I can only plead in excuse the fact that, even inthe New West, some folks will occasionally be uniformly thoughtful, respectable and honest, just as individuals sometimes are in the East. 

JOHN HABBERTON. 

NEW YORK, July 1st, 1877. 

To FRANK LESLIE, Who, while other publishers were advising the writer of these sketchesto write, supplied the author with encouragement in the shape of apublishing medium and the lucre which all literary men despise but longfor, this volume is respectfully dedicated by

THE AUTHOR. 

CONTENTS. 

THE SCHOOLTEACHER AT BOTTLE FLAT

JIM HOCKSON'S REVENGE

MAKING HIS MARK

CODAGO

THE LAST PIKE AT JAGGER'S BEND

FIRST PRAYER AT HANNEY'S

THE NEW SHERIFF OF BUNKER COUNTY

MAJOR MARTT'S FRIEND

BUFFLE

MATALETTE'S SECTION

A STORY OF TEN MILE GULCH

CAPTAIN SAM'S CHANGE

MISS FEWNE'S LAST CONQUEST

MARKSON'S HOUSE

GRUMP'S PET

WARDELOW'S BOY

TOM CHAFFLIN'S LUCK

OLD TWITCHETT'S TREASURE

BLIZZER'S WIFE

A BOARDING-HOUSE ROMANCE

RETIRING FROM BUSINESS

THE HARDHACK MISTAKE

THE CARMI CHUMS

LITTLE GUZZY

A ROMANCE OF HAPPY REST

TWO POWERFUL ARGUMENTS

MR. PUTCHETT'S LOVE

THE MEANEST MAN AT BLUGSEY'S

DEACON BARKER'S CONVERSION

JOE GATTER'S LIFE INSURANCE

THE TEMPERANCE MEETING AT BACKLEY

JUDE

A LOVE OF A COTTAGE

THE BLEIGHTON RIVALS

BUDGE AND TODDIE AT AUNT ALICE'S

SAILING UP STREAM

FREE SPEECH

ILLUSTRATIONS

FRONTISPIECE

TOLEDO AND THE COMMITTEE'S VISIT

"HE HELD IT UNDER THE LIGHT"

"THEY FOUND HIM SENSELESS, " ETC

FINDING THE BABY

THE GOLDEN HARVEST

PASSING THE HAT

EAST PATTEN

THE ROUGH GREETING

THE BABY'S NAME

THE DESERTED COTTAGE

THE PRAIRIE FARM

AN INVITATION TO WAIT

A LOVELY EXPERIENCE--"SPILED"

A STRANGE PROCEDURE

THE PLACARD ON THE DOOR

THE CIRCUIT PREACHER

KISSING SUNRISE

A DISCOVERY

THE LIKENESS

MOTHER AND SON MEET

COUNTRY INQUISITIVENESS

HUSBAND AND WIFE

IN PRISON

RUM VALLEY

NEAR HIS END

THE BONNEYS EMIGRATE

MR. PUTCHETT'S NEW FRIEND

"GOOD-BY, LITTLE ANGEL!"

COOL IN FACE OF DANGER

"THAT'S PET'S MOTHER"

THE RICH MAN'S CHURCH

TALKING OVER INSURANCE

THE MEETING

"GET HIM! GET JOHNNY!"

DOWN THE STREAM

THE WELCOME HOME

THE COTTAGE

"I CAME TO PLEAD FOR THE MAJOR"

PROCESS OF BEING LOCKED UP

BREAKFAST

SOME FOLKS. 

THE SCHOOLTEACHER AT BOTTLE FLAT. 

It certainly _was_ hard. What was the freedom of a country in which thevoice of the original founders was spent in vain? Had not they, the"Forty" miners of Bottle Flat, really started the place? Hadn't theylocated claims there? Hadn't they contributed three ounces each, ostensibly to set up in business a brother miner who unfortunately lostan arm, but really that a saloon might be opened, and the genuinenessand stability of the camp be assured? Hadn't they promptly killed orscared away every Chinaman who had ever trailed his celestial pig-tailinto the Flat? Hadn't they cut and beaten a trail to Placerville, sothat miners could take a run to that city when the Flat became tooquiet? Hadn't they framed the squarest betting code in the wholediggings? And when a 'Frisco man basely attempted to break up the campby starting a gorgeous saloon a few miles up the creek, hadn't they goneup in a body and cleared him out, giving him only ten minutes in whichto leave the creek for ever? All this they had done, actuated only by astern sense of duty, and in the patient anticipation of the reward whichtraditionally crowns virtuous action. But now--oh, ingratitude ofrepublics!--a schoolteacher was to be forced upon Bottle Flat in spiteof all the protest which they, the oldest inhabitants, had made!

Such had been their plaint for days, but the sad excitement had not beenproductive of any fights, for the few married men in the camp prudentlyabsented themselves at night from "The Nugget" saloon, where the matterwas fiercely discussed every evening. There was, therefore, such anutter absence of diversity of opinion, that the most quarrelsomesearched in vain for provocation. 

On the afternoon of the day on which the opening events of this storyoccurred, the boys, by agreement, stopped work two hours earlier thanusual, for the stage usually reached Bottle Flat about two hours beforesundown, and the one of that day was to bring the hated teacher. Theboys had wellnigh given up the idea of further resistance, yet curiosityhas a small place even in manly bosoms, and they could at least _look_hatred at the detested pedagogue. So about four o'clock they gathered atThe Nugget so suddenly, that several fathers; who were calmly drinkinginside, had barely time to escape through the back windows. 

The boys drank several times before composing themselves into theiraccustomed seats and leaning-places; but it was afterward asserted andSouthpaw--the one-armed bar-keeper--cited as evidence, that none of themtook sugar in their liquor. They subjected their sorrow to homeopathictreatment by drinking only the most raw and rasping fluids that the barafforded. 

The preliminary drinking over, they moodily whittled, chewed, andexpectorated; a stranger would have imagined them a batch of miserablecriminals awaiting transportation. 

The silence was finally broken by a decided-looking red-haired man, whohad been neatly beveling the door-post with his knife, and who spoke asif his words only by great difficulty escaped being bitten in two. 

"We ken burn down the schoolhouse right before his face and eyes, andthen mebbe the State Board'll git our idees about eddycation. "

"Twon't be no use, Mose, " said Judge Barber, whose legal title washonorary, and conferred because he had spent some time in a penitentiaryin the East. "Them State Board fellers is wrong, but they've got grit, ur they'd never hev got the schoolhouse done after we rode thecontractor out uv the Flat on one of his own boards. Besides, some uv'em might think we wuz rubbin' uv it in, an' next thing you know'dthey'd be buildin' us a jail. "

"Can't we buy off these young uns' folks?" queried an angular fellowfrom Southern Illinois. "They're a mizzable pack of shotes, an' Ib'leeve they'd all leave the camp fur a few ounces. "

"Ye--es, " drawled the judge, dubiously; "but thar's the WidderGinneys--_she'd_ pan out a pretty good schoolroom-full with her eightyoung uns, an' there ain't ounces enough in the diggin's to make _her_leave while Tom Ginneys's coffin's roostin' under the rocks. "

"Then, " said Mose, the first speaker, his words escaping with even moredifficulty than before, "throw around keards to see who's to marry thewidder, an' boss her young uns. The feller that gits the fust Jack's todo the job. "

"Meanin' no insult to this highly respectable crowd, " said the judge, ina very bland tone, and inviting it to walk up to the bar and specify itsconsolation, "I don't b'leeve there's one uv yer the widder'd hev. " Thejudge's eye glanced along the line at the bar, and he continued softly, but in decided accents--"Not a cussed one. But, " added the judge, passing his pouch to the barkeeper, "if anything's to be done, it mustbe done lively, fur the stage is pretty nigh here. Tell ye what's ezgood ez ennything. We'll crowd around the stage, fust throwin' keardsfor who's to put out his hoof to be accidently trod onto by the infernalteacher ez he gits out. Then satisfaction must be took out uv theteacher. It'll be a mean job, fur these teachers hevn't the spunk of acoyote, an' ten to one he won't hev no shootin' irons, so the job'll hevto be done with fists. "

"Good!" said Mose. "The crowd drinks with me to a square job, and nobackin'. Chuck the pasteboards, jedge--The--dickens!" For Mose had gotfirst Jack. 

"Square job, and no backin', " said the judge, with a grin. "There's thestage now--hurry up, fellers!"

The stage drew up with a crash in front of The Nugget, and thepassengers, outside and in, but none looking teacherish, hurried intothe saloon. The boys scarcely knew whether to swear from disappointmentor gratification, when a start from Mose drew their attention again tothe stage. On the top step appeared a small shoe, above which wasvisible a small section of stocking far whiter and smaller than is usualin the mines. In an instant a similar shoe appeared on the lower step, and the boys saw, successively, the edge of a dress, a waterproof cloak, a couple of small gloved hands, a bright muffler, and a pleasant facecovered with brown hair, and a bonnet. Then they heard a cheerful voicesay:

"I'm the teacher, gentlemen--can any one show me the schoolhouse?"

The miserable Mose looked ghastly, and tottered. A suspicion of a winkgraced the judge's eye, but he exclaimed in a stern, low tone: "Squarejob, an' no backin', " upon which Mose took to his heels and thePlacerville trail. 

The judge had been a married man, so he promptly answered:

"I'll take yer thar, mum, ez soon ez I git yer baggage. "

"Thank you, " said the teacher; "that valise under the seat is all. "

The judge extracted a small valise marked "Huldah Brown, " offered hisarm, and he and the teacher walked off before the astonished crowd asnaturally as if the appearance of a modest-looking young lady was anordinary occurrence at the Flat. 

The stage refilled, and rattled away from the dumb and staring crowd, and the judge returned. 

"Well, boys, " said he, "yer got to marry _two_ women, now, to stop thatschool, an' you'll find this un more particler than the widder. I justtell yer what it is about that school--it's a-goin' to go on, spite uvany jackasses that wants it broke up; an' any gentleman that's insultedken git satisfaction by--"

"Who wants it broke up, you old fool?" demanded Toledo, a man who hadbeen named after the city from which he had come, and who had been fromthe first one of the fiercest opponents of the school. "I move theappointment uv a committee of three to wait on the teacher, see if theschool wants anything money can buy, take up subscriptions to git it, an' lay out any feller that don't come down with the dust when he's wentfur. "

[Illustration: TOLEDO AND THE COMMITTEEMEN'S VISIT TO THESOHOOLTEACHER. ]

"Hurray!" "Bully!" "Good!" "Sound!" "Them's the talk!" and othersympathetic expressions, were heard from the members of the lateanti-school party. 

The judge, who, by virtue of age, was the master of ceremonies andgeneral moderator of the camp, very promptly appointed a committee, consisting of Toledo and two miners, whose attire appeared the mostrespectable in the place, and instructed them to wait on the schoolmarm, and tender her the cordial support of the miners. 

Early the next morning the committee called at the schoolhouse, attachedto which were two small rooms in which teachers were expected to keephouse. 

The committee found the teacher "putting to rights" the schoolroom. Herdress was tucked up, her sleeves rolled, her neck hidden by a brighthandkerchief, and her hair "a-blowin' all to glory, " as Toledo afterwardexpressed it. Between the exertion, the bracing air, and the excitementcaused by the newness of everything, Miss Brown's pleasant face wasalmost handsome. 

"Mornin', marm, " said Toledo, raising a most shocking hat, while theremaining committee-men expeditiously ranged themselves behind him, sothat the teacher might by no chance look into their eyes. 

"Good-morning, gentlemen, " said Miss Brown, with a cheerful smile, "please be seated. I suppose you wish to speak of your children?"

Toledo, who was a very young man, blushed, and the whole committee wasas uneasy on its feet as if its boots had been soled with fly-blisters. Finally, Toledo answered:

"Not much, marm, seein' we ain't got none. Me an' these gentlemen's acommittee from the boys. "

"From the boys?" echoed Miss Brown. She had heard so many wonderfulthings about the Golden State, that now she soberly wondered whetherbearded men called themselves boys, and went to school. 

"From the miners, washin' along the crick, marm--they want to know whatthey ken do fur yer, " continued Toledo. 

"I am very grateful, " said Miss Brown; "but I suppose the local schoolcommittee--"

"Don't count on them, marm, " interrupted Toledo; "they're livin' fivemiles away, and they're only the preacher, an' doctor, an' a fellerthat's j'ined the church lately. None uv 'em but the doctor ever showsthemselves at the saloon, an' _he_ only comes when there's a diffikilty, an' he's called in to officiate. But the boys--the boys hez got thedust, marm, an' they've got the will. One uv us'll be in often to seewhat can be done fur yer. Good-mornin', marm. "

Toledo raided his hat again, the other committee-men bowed profoundly toall the windows and seats, and then the whole retired, leaving MissBrown in the wondering possession of an entirely new experience. 

"Well?" inquired the crowd, as the committee approached the creek. 

"Well, " replied Toledo, "she's just a hundred an' thirty pound nugget, an' no mistake--hey, fellers?"

"You bet, " promptly responded the remainder of the committee. 

"Good!" said the judge. "What does she want?"

Toledo's countenance fell. 

"By thunder!" he replied, "we got out 'fore she had a chance to tellus!"

The judge stared sharply upon the young man, and hurriedly turned tohide a merry twitching of his lips. 

That afternoon the boys were considerably astonished and scared atseeing the schoolmistress walking quickly toward the creek. Thechairman of the new committee was fully equal to the occasion. Mountinga rock, he roared:

"You fellers without no sherts on, git. You with shoes off, put 'em on. Take your pants out uv yer boots. Hats off when the lady comes. Hurryup, now--no foolin'. "

The shirtless ones took a lively double-quick toward some friendlybushes, the boys rolled down their sleeves and pantaloons, and one ortwo took the extra precaution to wash the mud off their boots. 

Meanwhile Miss Brown approached, and Toledo stepped forward. 

"Anything wrong up at the schoolhouse?" said he. 

"Oh, no, " replied Miss Brown, "but I have always had a great curiosityto see how gold was obtained. It seems as if it must be very easy tohandle those little pans. Don't you--don't you suppose some miner wouldlend me his pan and let me try just _once?_"

"Certingly, marm; ev'ry galoot ov'em would be glad of the chance. Here, you fellers--who's got the cleanest pan?"

Half a dozen men washed out their pans, and hurried off with them. Toledo selected one, put in dirt and water, and handed it to Miss Brown. 

"Thar you are, marm, but I'm afeared you'll wet your dress. "

"Oh, that won't harm, " cried Miss Brown, with a laugh which caused oneenthusiastic miner to "cut the pigeon-wing. "

She got the miner's touch to a nicety, and in a moment had a spray ofdirty water flying from the edge of the pan, while all the boys stood ina respectful semicircle, and stared delightedly. The pan empty, Toledorefilled it several times; and, finally, picking out some pebbles andhard pieces of earth, pointed to the dirty, shiny deposit in the bottomof the pan, and briefly remarked:

"Thar 'tis, marm. "

"Oh!" screamed Miss Brown, with delight; "is that really gold-dust?"

"That's it, " said Toledo. "I'll jest put it up fur yer, so yer kenkerry it. "

"Oh, no, " said Miss Brown, "I couldn't think of it--it isn't mine. "

"You washed it out, marm, an' that makes a full title in these parts. "

All of the traditional honesty of New England came into Miss Brown'sface in an instant; and, although she, Yankee-like, estimated the valueof the dust, and sighingly thought how much easier it was to win gold inthat way than by forcing ideas into stupid little heads, she firmlydeclined the gold, and bade the crowd a smiling good-day. 

"Did yer see them little fingers uv hern a-holdin' out that pan?--didyer see her, fellers?" inquired an excited miner. 

"Yes, an' the way she made that dirt git, ez though she was useder towashin' than wallopin', " said another. 

"Wallopin'!" echoed a staid miner. "I'd gie my claim, an' throw in mypile to boot, to be a young 'un an' git walloped by them playthings ofhan's. "

"Jest see how she throwed dirt an' water on them boots, " said another, extending an enormous ugly boot. "Them boots ain't fur sale now--themain't. "

"Them be durned!" contemptuously exclaimed another. "She tramped righton my toes as she backed out uv the crowd. "

Every one looked jealously at the last speaker, and a grim old fellowsuggested that the aforesaid individual had obtained a trampled foot byfraud, and that each man in camp had, consequently, a right to demandsatisfaction of him. 

But the judge decided that he of the trampled foot was right, and thatany miner who wouldn't take such a chance, whether fraudulently orotherwise, hadn't the spirit of a man in him. 

Yankee Sam, the shortest man in camp, withdrew from the crowd, and pacedthe banks of the creek, lost in thought. Within half an hour Sam wasowner of the only store in the place, had doubled the prices of allarticles of clothing contained therein, and increased at least six-foldthe price of all the white shirts. 

Next day the sun rose on Bottle Flat in his usual conservative andimpassive manner. Had he respected the dramatic proprieties, he wouldhave appeared with astonished face and uplifted hands, for seldom had awhole community changed so completely in a single night. 

Uncle Hans, the only German in the camp, had spent the precedingafternoon in that patient investigation for which the Teutonic mind isso justly noted. The morning sun saw over Hans's door a sign, incharcoal, which read, "SHAVIN' DUN HIER"; and few men went to the creekthat morning without submitting themselves to Hans's hands. 

Then several men who had been absent from the saloon the night beforestraggled into camp, with jaded mules and new attire. Carondelet Joecame in, clad in a pair of pants, on which slender saffron-hued serpentsascended graceful gray Corinthian columns, while from under the collarof a new white shirt appeared a cravat, displaying most of the lines ofthe solar spectrum. 

Flush, the Flat champion at poker, came in late in the afternoon, with ahuge watch-chain, and an overpowering bosom-pin, and his horrid fingerssported at least one seal-ring each. 

Several stove-pipe hats were visible in camp, and even a pair of gloveswere reported in the pocket of a miner. 

Yankee Sam had sold out his entire stock, and prevented bloodshed overhis only bottle of hair-oil by putting it up at a raffle, in fortychances, at an ounce a chance. His stock of white shirts, seven innumber, were visible on manly forms; his pocket combs and glasses wereall gone; and there had been a steady run on needles and thread. Most ofthe miners were smoking new white clay pipes, while a few thoughtfulones, hoping for a repetition of the events of the previous day, hadscoured their pans to a dazzling brightness. 

As for the innocent cause of all this commotion, she was fully asexcited as the miners themselves. She had never been outside of MiddleBethany, until she started for California. Everything on the trip hadbeen strange, and her stopping-place and its people were stranger thanall. The male population of Middle Bethany, as is usual with small NewEngland villages, consisted almost entirely of very young boys and veryold men. But here at Bottle Flat were hosts of middle-aged men, and suchfunny ones! She was wild to see more of them, and hear them talk; yet, her wildness was no match for her prudence. She sighed to think howslightly Toledo had spoken of the minister on the local committee, andshe piously admitted to herself that Toledo and his friends wereundoubtedly on the brink of the bottomless pit, and yet--they certainlywere very kind. If she could only exert a good influence upon thesemen--but how?

Suddenly she bethought herself, of the grand social centre of MiddleBethany--the singing-school. Of course, she couldn't start asinging-school at Bottle Flat, but if she were to say the childrenneeded to be led in singing, would it be very hypocritical? She mightinvite such of the miners as were musically inclined to lead the schoolin singing in the morning, and thus she might, perhaps, remove some ofthe prejudice which, she had been informed, existed against the school. 

She broached the subject to Toledo, and that faithful official hadnearly every miner in camp at the schoolhouse that same evening. Thejudge brought a fiddle, Uncle Hans came with a cornet, and Yellow Petecame grinning in with his darling banjo. 

There was a little disappointment all around when the boys declaredtheir ignorance of "Greenville" and "Bonny Doon, " which airs Miss Browndecided were most easy for the children to begin with; but when it wasascertained that the former was the air to "Saw My Leg Off, " and thelatter was identical with the "Three Black Crows, " all friction wasremoved, and the melodious howling attracted the few remaining boys atthe saloon, and brought them up in a body, led by the barkeeper himself. 

The exact connection between melody and adoration is yet an unsolvedreligio-psychological problem. But we all know that everywhere in thehabitable globe the two intermingle, and stimulate each other, whetherthe adoration be offered to heavenly or earthly objects. And so it cameto pass that, at the Bottle Flat singing-school, the boys lookedstraight at the teacher while they raised their tuneful voices; thatthey came ridiculously early, so as to get front seats; and that theypurposely sung out of tune, once in a while, so as to be personallyaddressed by the teacher. 

And she--pure, modest, prudent, and refined--saw it all, and enjoyed itintensely. Of course, it could never go any further, for though therewas in Middle Bethany no moneyed aristocracy, the best families scornedalliances with any who were undegenerate, and would not be unequallyyoked with those who drank, swore, and gambled--let alone the fearfulsuspicion of murder, which Miss Brown's imagination affixed to every manat the Flat. 

But the boys themselves--considering the unspeakable contempt which hadbeen manifested in the camp for the profession of teaching, and for allwho practiced it--the boys exhibited a condescension truly Christian. They vied with each other in manifesting it, and though the means werenot always the most appropriate, the honesty of the sentiment could notbe doubted. 

One by one the greater part of the boys, after adoring and hoping, sawfor themselves that Miss Brown could never be expected to change hername at their solicitation. Sadder but better men, they retired from thecontest, and solaced themselves by betting on the chances of those still"on the track, " as an ex-jockey tersely expressed the situation. 

There was no talk of "false hearted" or "fair temptress, " such as menoften hear in society; for not only had all the tenderness emanated frommanly breasts alone, but it had never taken form of words. 

Soon the hopeful ones were reduced to half a dozen of these. Yankee Samwas the favorite among the betting men, for Sam, knowing the habits ofNew England damsels, went to Placerville one Friday, and returned nextday with a horse and buggy. On Sunday he triumphantly drove Miss Brownto the nearest church. Ten to one was offered on Sam that Sundayafternoon, as the boys saw the demure and contented look on Miss Brown'sface as she returned from church. But Samuel followed in the sadfootsteps of many another great man, for so industriously did he drinkto his own success that he speedily developed into a bad case of_delirium tremens_. 

Then Carondelet Joe, calmly confident in the influence of his wonderfulpants, led all odds in betting. But one evening, when Joe had managed toget himself in the front row and directly before the little teacher, that lady turned her head several times and showed signs of discomfort. When it finally struck the latter that the human breath might, perhaps, waft toward a lady perfumes more agreeable than those of mixed drinks, he abruptly quitted the school and the camp. 

Flush, the poker champion, carried with him to the singing-school thatastounding impudence which had long been the terror and admiration ofthe camp. But a quality which had always seemed exactly the thing whenapplied to poker seemed to the boys barely endurable when displayedtoward Miss Brown. 

One afternoon, Flush indiscreetly indulged in some triumphant and ratherslighting remarks about the little teacher. Within fifteen minutes, Flush's final earthly home had been excavated, and an amateur undertakerwas making his coffin. 

An untimely proposal by a good-looking young Mexican, and his promptrejection, left the race between Toledo and a Frenchman named Lecomte. It also left Miss Brown considerably frightened, for until now she hadimagined nothing more serious than the rude admiration which had sodelighted her at first. 

But now, who knew but some one else would be ridiculous? Poor littleMiss Brown suffered acutely at the thought of giving pain, anddetermined to be more demure than ever. 

But alas! even her agitation seemed to make her more charming to her tworemaining lovers. 

Had the boys at the saloon comprehended in the least the cause of MissBrown's uneasiness, they would have promptly put both Lecomte and Toledoout of the camp, or out of the world. But to their good-natured, conceited minds it meant only that she was confused, and unable todecide, and unlimited betting was done, to be settled upon theretirement of either of the contestants. 

And while patriotic feeling influenced the odds rather in Toledo'sfavor, it was fairly admitted that the Frenchman was a formidable rival. 

To all the grace of manner, and the knowledge of women that seems to runin Gallic blood, he was a man of tolerable education and excellenttaste. Besides, Miss Brown was so totally different from French women, that every development of her character afforded him an entirely newsensation, and doubled his devotion. 

Toledo stood his ground manfully, though the boys considered it a verybad sign when he stopped drinking, and spent hours in pacing the groundin front of his hut, with his hands behind him, and his eyes fixed onthe ground. 

Finally, when he was seen one day to throw away his faithful old pipe, heavy betters hastened to "hedge" as well as they might. 

Besides, as one of the boys truthfully observed, "He couldn't begin towag a jaw along with that Frenchman. "

But, like many other young men, he could talk quite eloquently with hiseyes, and as the language of the eyes is always direct, and purelygrammatical, Miss Brown understood everything they said, and, to hergreat horror, once or twice barely escaped talking back. 

The poor little teacher was about to make the whole matter a subject ofspecial prayer, when a knock at the door startled her. 

She answered it, and beheld the homely features of the judge. 

"I just come in to talk a little matter that's been botherin' me sometime. Ye'll pardon me ef I talk a little plain?" said he. 

"Certainly, " replied the teacher, wondering if he, too, had joined herpersecutors. 

"Thank ye, " said the judge, looking relieved. "It's all right. I've gotdarters to hum ez big ez you be, an' I want to talk to yer ez ef yer wasone uv 'em. "

The judge looked uncertain for a moment, and then proceeded:

"That feller Toledo's dead in love with yer--uv course you know it, though 'tain't likely he's told yer. ' All I want to say 'bout him is, drop him kindly. He's been took so bad sence you come, that he's stoppeddrinkin' an' chewin' an' smokin' an' cussin', an' he hasn't played agame at The Nugget sence the first singin'-school night. Mebbe this allain't much to you, but you've read 'bout that woman that was spoke welluv fur doin' what she could. He's the fust feller I've ever seen in thediggin's that went back on all the comforts uv life, an'--an' I've beena young man myself, an' know how big a claim it's been fur him to work. I ain't got the heart to see him spiled now; but he _will_ be ef, whenyer hev to drop him, yer don't do it kindly. An'--just one thingmore--the quicker he's out of his misery the better. "

The old jail-bird screwed a tear out of his eye with a dirty knuckle, and departed abruptly, leaving the little teacher just about ready tocry herself. 

But before she was quite ready, another knock startled her. 

She opened the door, and let in Toledo himself. 

"Good-evin', marm, " said he, gravely. "I just come in to make my last'fficial call, seein' I'm goin' away to-morrer. Ez there anything theschoolhouse wants I ken git an' send from 'Frisco?"

"Going away!" ejaculated the teacher, heedless of the remainder ofToledo's sentence. 

"Yes, marm; goin' away fur good. Fact is, I've been tryin' to behavemyself lately, an' I find I need more company at it than I git about thediggin's. I'm goin' some place whar I ken learn to be the gentleman Ifeel like bein'--to be decent an' honest, an' useful, an' there ain'tanybody here that keers to help a feller that way--nobody. "

The ancestor of the Browns of Middle Bethany was at Lexington on thatmemorable morning in '75, and all of his promptness and his courage, tentimes multiplied, swelled the heart of his trembling little descendant, as she faltered out:

"There's one. "

"Who?" asked Toledo, before he could raise his eyes. 

But though Miss Brown answered not a word, he did not repeat hisquestion, for such a rare crimson came into the little teacher's face, that he hid it away in his breast, and acted as if he would never let itout again. 

Another knock at the door. 

Toledo dropped into a chair, and Miss Brown, hastily smoothing back herhair, opened the door, and again saw the judge. 

"I jest dropped back to say--" commenced the judge, when his eye fellupon Toledo. 

He darted a quick glance at the teacher, comprehended the situation atonce, and with a loud shout of "Out of his misery, by thunder!" startedon a run to carry the news to the saloon. 

 * * * * *

Miss Brown completed her term, and then the minister, who was on thelocal Board, was called in to formally make her tutor for life to alarger pupil. Lecomte, with true French gallantry, insisted on beinggroomsman, and the judge gave away the bride. The groom, who gave a namevery different from any ever heard at the Flat, placed on his bride'sfinger a ring, inscribed within, "Made from gold washed by HuldahBrown. " The little teacher has increased the number of her pupils byseveral, and her latest one calls her grandma. 

[Illustration]

JIM HOCKSON'S REVENGE. 

I. 

"Ye don't say?"

"I do though. "

"Wa'al, I never. "

"Nuther did I--adzackly. "

"Don't be provokin', Ephr'm--what makes you talk in that dou'fle way?"

"Wa'al, ma, the world hain't all squeezed into this yere little town ofCrankett. I've been elsewheres, some, an' I've seed some funny things, and likewise some that wuzn't so funny ez they might be. "

"P'r'aps ye hev, but ye needn't allus be a-settin' other folks down. Mebbe Crankett ain't the whole world, but it's seed that awful case ofMolly Capins, and the shipwreck of thirty-four, when the awfulnor'easter wuz, an'--"

"Wa'al, wa'al, ma--don't let's fight 'bout it, " said Ephr'm, with asigh, as he tenderly scraped down a new ax-helve with a piece of glass, while his wife made the churn-dasher hurry up and down as if theinnocent cream was Ephr'm's back, and she was avenging thereon Ephr'm'sinsults to Crankett and its people. 

Deacon Ephraim Crankett was a descendant of the founder of the village, and although now a sixty-year old farmer, he had in his lifetime seenconsiderable of the world. He had been to the fishing-banks a dozentimes, been whaling twice, had carried a cargo of wheat up theMediterranean, and had been second officer of a ship which had pickedup a miscellaneous cargo in the heathen ports of Eastern Asia. 

[Illustration: JIM HOCKSON'S REVENGE. --"HE HELD IT UNDER THE LIGHT, ANDEXAMINED IT CLOSELY. "]

He had picked up a great many ideas, too, wherever he had been, and hiswife was immensely proud of him and them, whenever she could comparethem with the men and ideas which existed at Crankett; but when Ephr'mdisplayed his memories and knowledge to her alone--oh, that was a verydifferent thing. 

"Anyhow, " resumed Mrs. Crankett, raising the lid of the churn to see ifthere were any signs of butter, "it's an everlastin' shame. JimHockson's a young feller in good standin' in the Church, an' MillieBotayne's an unbeliever--they say her father's a reg'lar infidel. "

"Easy, ma, easy, " gently remonstrated Ephr'm. "When he seed you lookin'at his pet rose-bush on yer way to church las' Sunday, didn't he hurryan' pull two or three an' han' 'em to ye?"

"Yes, an' what did he hev' in t'other han'?--a Boasting paper, an' not aSunday one, nuther! Millicent ain't a Christian name, nohow ye can fixit--it amounts to jest 'bout's much ez she does, an' that's nothing. She's got a soft face, an' purty hair--ef it's all her own, which Ipowerfully doubt--an' after that ther's nothin' to her. She's never beento sewin' meetin', an' she's off a boatin' with that New York chap everySaturday afternoon, instead of goin' to the young people'sprayer-meetin's. "

"She's most supported Sam Ransom's wife an' young uns since Sam's smackwas lost, " suggested Ephr'm. 

"That's you, Deac'n Crankett, " replied his wife, "always stick up forsinners. P'r'aps you'd make better use of your time ef you'd examine yerown evidences. "

"Wa'al, wife, " said the deacon, "she's engaged to that New York feller, ez you call Mr. Brown, so there's no danger of Jim bein' onequally yokedwith an onbeliever. An' I wish her well, from the bottom of my heart. "

"_I_ don't, " cried Mrs. Crankett, giving the dasher a vicious push, which sent the cream flying frantically up to the top of the churn; "Ihope he'll turn out bad, an' her pride'll be tuk down ez--"

The deacon had been long enough at sea to know the signs of a longstorm, and to know that prudence suggested a prompt sailing out of thecourse of such a storm, when possible; so he started for the door, carrying the glass and ax-helve with him. Suddenly the door opened, anda female figure ran so violently against the ax-helve, that the saidfigure was instantly tumbled to the floor, and seemed an irregular massof faded pink calico, and subdued plaid shawl. 

"Miss Peekin!" exclaimed Mrs. Crankett, dropping the churn-dasher andopening her eyes. 

"Like to ha' not been, " whined the figure, slowly arising and giving theoffending ax-helve a glance which would have set it on fire had it notbeen of green hickory; "but--_hev_ you heerd?"

"What?" asked Mrs. Crankett, hastily setting a chair for the newcomer, while Ephr'm, deacon and sixty though he was, paused in his almostcompleted exit. 

"_He's_ gone!" exclaimed Miss Peekin. 

"Oh, I heerd Jim hed gone to Califor--"

"Pshaw!" said Miss Peekin, contemptuously; "that was days ago! I meanBrown--the New York chap--Millie Botayne's lover!"

"Ye don't?"

"But I do; an' what's more, he _had_ to. Ther wuz men come after him inthe nighttime, but he must hev heard 'em, fur they didn't find him inhis room, an' this mornin' they found that his sailboat was gone, too. An' what's more, ther's a printed notice up about him, an' he's adefaulter, and there's five thousand dollars for whoever catches him, an' he's stole _twenty-five_, an' he's all described in the notice, asp'ticular as if he was a full-blood Alderney cow. "

"Poor fellow, " sighed the deacon, for which interruption he received awithering glance from Miss Peekin. 

"They say Millie's a goin' on awful, and that she sez she'll marry himnow if he'll come back. But it ain't likely he'll be such a fool; nowhe's got so much money, he don't need hern. Reckon her an' her fatherwon't be so high an' mighty an' stuck up now. It's powerful discouragin'to the righteous to see the ungodly flourishin' so, an' a-rollin' inther wealth, when ther betters has to be on needles all year fur fearthe next mack'ril catch won't 'mount to much. The idee of her bein'willin' to marry a defaulter! I can't understand it. "

"Poor girl!" sighed Mrs. Crankett, wiping one eye with the corner of herapron. "I'd do it myself, ef I was her?"

The deacon dropped the ax-helve, and gave his wife a tender kiss on eacheye. 

II. 

Perhaps Mr. Darwin can tell inquirers why, out of very common origin, there occasionally spring beings who are very decided improvements ontheir progenitors; but we are only able to state that Jim Hockson wasone of these superior beings, and was himself fully aware of the fact. Not that he was conceited at all, for he was not, but he could not helpseeing what every one else saw and acknowledged. 

Every one liked him, for he was always kind in word and action, andevery one was glad to be Jim Hockson's friend; but somehow Jim seemed toconsider himself his best company. 

His mackerel lines were worked as briskly as any others when the fishwere biting; but when the fish were gone, he would lean idly on therail, and stare at the waves and clouds; he could work a cranberry-bogso beautifully that the people for miles around came to look on and takelessons; yet, when the sun tried to hide in the evening behind a raggedrow of trees on a ridge beyond Jim's cranberry-patch, he would lean onhis spade, and gaze until everything about him seemed yellow. 

He read the Bible incessantly, yet offended alike the pious saints andcritical sinners by never preaching or exhorting. And out of everythingJim Hockson seemed to extract what it contained of the ideal and thebeautiful; and when he saw Millicent Botayne, he straightway adored thefirst woman he had met who was alike beautiful, intelligent and refined. Miss Millie, being human, was pleased by the admiration of thehandsome, manly fellow who seemed so far the superior of the men of hisclass; but when, in his honest simplicity, he told her that he lovedher, she declined his further attentions in a manner which, though verydelicate and kind, opened Jim's blue eyes to some sad things he hadnever seen before. 

He neither got drunk, nor threatened to kill himself, nor married thefirst silly girl he met; but he sensibly left the place where he hadsuffered so greatly, and, in a sort of sad daze, he hurried off to hidehimself in the newly discovered gold-fields of California. Perhaps hehad suddenly learned certain properties of gold which were heretoforeunknown to him; at any rate, it was soon understood at Spanish Stake, where he had located himself, that Jim Hockson got out more gold perweek than any man in camp, and that it all went to San Francisco. 

"Kind of a mean cuss, I reckon, " remarked a newcomer, one day at thesaloon, when Jim alone, of the crowd present, declined to drink withhim. 

"Not any!" replied Colonel Two, so called because he had two eyes, whileanother colonel in the camp had but one. "An' it's good for _you_, stranger, " continued the colonel, "that you ain't been long in camp, else some of the boys 'ud put a hole through you for sayin' anything'gainst Jim; for we all swear by him, _we_ do. He don't carryshootin'-irons, but no feller in camp dares to tackle him; he don't cussnobody, but ev'rybody does just as he asks 'em to. As to drinkin', why, I'd swear off myself, ef 'twud make me hold a candle to him. Went to oldBermuda t'other day, when he was ravin' tight and layin' for ButcherPete with a shootin'-iron, an' he actilly talked Bermuda into soakin'his head an' turnin' in--ev'rybody else was afeared to go nigh oldBermuda that day. "

The newcomer seemed gratified to learn that Jim was so peaceable aman--that was the natural supposition, at least--for he forthwithcultivated Jim with considerable assiduity, and being, it was evident, aman of considerable taste and experience, Jim soon found hiscompanionship very agreeable and he lavished upon his new acquaintance, who had been nicknamed Tarpaulin, the many kind and thoughtfulattentions which had endeared Jim to the other miners. 

The two men lived in the same hut, staked claims adjoining each other, and Tarpaulin, who had been thin and nervous-looking when he first cameto camp, began to grow peaceable and plump under Jim's influence. 

One night, as Jim and Tarpaulin lay chatting before a fire in their hut, they heard a thin, wiry voice in the next hut inquiring:

"Anybody in this camp look like this?"

Tarpaulin started. 

"That's a funny question, " said he; "let's see who and what the fellowis. "

And then Tarpaulin started for the next hut. Jim waited some time, andhearing low voices in earnest conversation, went next door himself. 

Tarpaulin was not there, but two small, thin, sharp-eyed men were there, displaying an old-fashioned daguerreotype of a handsome-looking youngman, dressed in the latest New York style; and more than this Jim didnot notice. 

"Don't know him, mister, " said Colonel Two, who happened to be the ownerof the hut. "Besides ef, as is most likely, he's growed long hair an' abeard since he left the States, his own mother wouldn't know him fromGeorge Washington. Brother o' yourn?"

"No, " said one of the thin men; "he's--well, the fact is, we'll give athousand dollars to any one who'll find him for us in twenty-fourhours. "

"Deppity sheriffs?" asked the colonel, retiring somewhat hastily underhis blankets. 

"About the same thing, " said one of the thin men, with a sickly smile. 

"Git!" roared the colonel, suddenly springing from his bed, and cockinghis revolver. "I b'lieve in the Golden Rule, _I_ do!"

The detectives, with the fine instinct peculiar to their profession, rightly construed the colonel's action as a hint, and withdrew, and Jimretired to his own hut, and fell asleep while waiting for his partner. 

Morning came, but no Tarpaulin; dinner-time arrived, but Jim ate alone, and was rather blue. He loved a sociable chat, and of late Tarpaulin hadbeen almost his sole companion. 

Evening came, but Tarpaulin came not. 

Jim couldn't abide the saloon for a whole evening, so he lit a candle inhis own hut, and attempted to read. 

Tarpaulin was a lover of newspapers--it seemed to Jim he received morepapers than all the remaining miners put together. 

Jim thought he would read some of these same papers, and unrolledTarpaulin's blankets to find them, when out fell a picture-case, openingas it fell. Jim was about to close it again, when he suddenly started, and exclaimed:

"Millicent Botayne!"

He held it under the light, and examined it closely. 

There could be no doubt as to identity--there were the same exquisitefeatures which, a few months before, had opened to Jim Hockson a newworld of beauty, and had then, with a sweet yet sad smile, knocked downall his fair castles, and destroyed all his exquisite pictures. 

Strange that it should appear to him now, and so unexpectedly, butstranger did it seem to Jim that on the opposite side of the case shouldbe a portrait which was a duplicate of the one shown by the detectives!

"That rascal Brown!" exclaimed Jim. "So he succeeded in getting her, didhe? But I shouldn't call him names; he had as much right to make love toher as I. God grant he may make her happy! And he is probably a veryfine fellow--_must_ be, by his looks. "

Suddenly Jim started, as if shocked by an electric battery. Hiding allthe hair and beard of the portrait, he stared at it a moment, andexclaimed:

"_Tarpaulin_!"

III. 

"Both gone!" exclaimed Colonel Two, hurrying into the saloon, at noon. 

"_Both_ gone?" echoed two or three men. 

"Yes, " said the colonel; "and the queerest thing is, they leftev'rything behind--every darned thing! I never _did_ see such a stampedeafore--I didn't! Nobody's got any idee of whar they be, nor what it's'bout neither. "

"Don't be _too_ sartain, colonel!" piped Weasel, a self-contained miteof a fellow, who was still at work upon his glass, filled at the lastgeneral treat, although every one else had finished so long ago thatthey were growing thirsty again--"don't be _too_ sartain. Themdetectives bunked at my shanty last night. "

"The deuce they did!" cried the colonel. "Good the rest of us didn'tknow it. "

"Well, " said Weasel, moving his glass in graceful circles, to be surethat all the sugar dissolved, "I dunno. It's a respectable business, an'I wanted to have a good look at 'em. "

"What's that got to do with Jim and Tarpaulin?" demanded the colonel, fiercely. 

"Wait, and I'll tell you, " replied Weasel, provokingly, taking aleisurely sip at his glass. "Jim come down to see 'em--"

"What?" cried the colonel. 

"An' told 'em he knew their man, an' would help find him, " continuedWeasel. "They offered him the thousand dollars--"

"Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!" groaned the colonel; "who's a feller to trust inthis world! The idee of Jim goin' back on a pardner fur a thousand! Iwouldn't hev b'lieved he'd a-done it fur a million!"

"An' he told 'em he'd cram it down their throats if they mentioned itagain. "

"Bully! Hooray fur Jim!" shouted the colonel. "What'll yer take, fellers? Fill high! Here's to Jim! the feller that b'lieves his friend'sinnercent!"

The colonel looked thoughtfully into his glass, and remarked, as if tohis own reflection therein, "Ain't many such men here nur nowhars else!"after which he drank the toast himself. 

"But that don't explain what Tarpaulin went fur, " said the colonel, suddenly. 

"Yes, it does, " said the exasperating Weasel, shutting his thin lips sotightly that it was hard to see where his mouth was. 

"What?" cried the colonel. "'Twould take a four-horse corkscrew to getanything out o' you, you dried-up little scoundrel!"

"Why!" replied Weasel, greatly pleased by the colonel's compliment, "after what you said about hair and beard hidin' a man, one of themfellers cut a card an' held it over the picture, so as to hide hair an'chin. The forehead an' face an' nose an' ears wuz Tarpaulin's, an'nobody else's. "

"Lightning's blazes!" roared the colonel, "Ha, ha, ha! why, Tarpaulinhisself came into my shanty, an' looked at the pictur', an' talked tothem 'bout it! Trot out yer glassware, barkeeper--_got_ to drink to afeller that's ez cool ez all that!"

The boys drank with the colonel, but they were too severely astonishedto enjoy the liquor particularly. In fact, old Bermuda, who had nevertaken anything but plain rye, drank three fingers of claret that day, and did not know of it until told. 

The colonel's mind was unusually excited. It seemed to him there were anumber of probabilities upon which to hang bets. He walked outside, thathis meditation might be undisturbed, but in an instant he was back, crying:

"Lady comin'!"

Shirt-sleeves and trowsers-legs were hurriedly rolled down, shirt-collars were buttoned, hats were dusted, and then each man wentleisurely out, with the air of having merely happened to leave thesaloon--an air which imposed upon no disinterested observer. 

Coming up the trail beside the creek were a middle-aged gentleman and ayoung lady, both on horseback. 

The gentleman's dress and general style plainly indicated that he wasnot a miner, nor a storekeeper, nor a barkeeper; while it was equallyevident that the lady was neither a washerwoman, a cook, nor a member ofeither of the very few professions which were open to ladies on thePacific Coast in those days. 

This much every miner quickly decided for himself; but after sodeciding, each miner reached the uttermost extremity of his wits, anddevoted himself to staring. 

The couple reined up before the saloon, and the gentleman drew somethingsmall and black and square from his pocket. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, "we are looking for an old friend of ours, andhave traced him to this camp. We scarcely know whether it would be anyuse to give his name, but here is his picture. Can any one rememberhaving seen the person here?"

Every one looked toward Colonel Two, he being the man with the mostpractical tongue in camp. 

The colonel took the picture, and Weasel slipped up behind him andlooked over his shoulder. The colonel looked at the picture, abruptlyhanded it back, looked at the young lady, and then gazed vacantly intospace, and seemed very uncomfortable. 

"Been here, but gone, " said the colonel, at length. 

"Where did he go, do you know?" asked the gentleman, while the lady'seyes dropped wearily. 

"Nobody knows--only been gone a day or two, " replied the colonel. 

The colonel had a well-developed heart, and, relying on what heconsidered the correct idea of Jim Hockson's mission, ventured to say:

"He'll be back in a day or two--left all his things. "

Suddenly Weasel raised his diminutive voice, and said:

"The detec--"

The determined grip of the colonel's hand interrupted the communicationwhich Weasel attempted to make, and the colonel hastily remarked:

"Ther's a feller gone for him that's sure to fetch him back. "

"Who--who is it?" asked the young lady, hesitatingly. 

"Well, ma'am, " said the colonel, "as yer father--I s'pose, leastways--said, 'tain't much use to give names in this part of theworld, but the name he's goin' by is Jim Hockson. "

The young lady screamed and fell. 

IV. 

"Whether to do it or not, is what bothers me, " soliloquized Mr. Weasel, pacing meditatively in front of the saloon. "The old man offers me twothousand to get Tarpaulin away from them fellers, and let him know whereto meet him an' his daughter. Two thousand's a pretty penny, an' thebein' picked out by so smart a lookin' man is an honor big enough to setoff agin' a few hundred dollars more. But, on t'other hand, if theycatch him, they'll come back here, an' who knows but what they'll wantthe old man an' girl as bad as they wanted Tarpaulin? A bird in thehand's worth two in the bush--better keep near the ones I got, I reckon. Here they come now!"

As Mr. Weasel concluded his dialogue with himself, Mr. Botayne andMillicent approached, in company with the colonel. 

The colonel stopped just beyond the saloon, and said:

"Now, here's your best p'int--you can see the hill-trail fur better'nfive miles, an' the crick fur a mile an' a half. I'll jest hev a shedknocked together to keep the lady from the sun. An' keep a stiff upperlip, both of yer--trust Jim Hockson; nobody in the mines ever knowed himto fail. "

Millicent shivered at the mention of Jim's name, and the colonel, unhappily ignorant of the cause of her agitation, tried to divert hermind from the chances of harm to Tarpaulin by growing eloquent in praiseof Jim Hockson. 

Suddenly the colonel himself started and grew pale. He quickly recoveredhimself, however, and, with the delicacy of a gentleman, walked rapidlyaway, as Millicent and her father looked in the direction from which thecolonel's surprise came. 

There, handcuffed, with beard and hair singed close, clothes torn andface bleeding, walked Ethelbert Brown between the two detectives, whileJim Hockson, with head bowed and hands behind his back, followed a fewyards behind. 

Some one gave the word at the saloon, and the boys hurried out, but thecolonel pointed significantly toward the sorrowful couple, while withthe other hand he pointed an ugly pistol, cocked, toward the saloon. 

Millicent hurried from her father's side, and flung her arms about thesorry figure of her lover; and Jim Hockson, finding his pathway impeded, raised his eyes, and then blushed violently. 

"Sorry for you, sir, " said one of the detectives, touching his hat toMr. Botayne, "but can't help being glad we got a day ahead of you. "

"What amount of money will buy your prisoner?" demanded the unhappyfather. 

"Beg pardon, sir--very sorry, but--we'd be compounding felony in thatcase, you know, " replied one of the officers, gazing with genuine pityon the weeping girl. 

"Don't worry, " whispered the colonel in Mr. Botayne's ear; "we'll cleanout them two fellers, and let Tarpaulin loose again. _Ev'ry_ feller comehere for _somethin'_ darn it!" with which sympathizing expression thecolonel again retired. 

"I'll give you as much as the bank offers, " said Mr. Botayne. 

"Very sorry, sir; but can't, " replied the detective. "We'd be just asbad then in the eyes of the law as before. Reward, five thousand, banklose twenty-five thousand--thirty thousand, in odd figures, is least wecould take. Even _that_ wouldn't be reg'lar; but it would be a saferisk, seeing all the bank cares for's to get its money back. "

Mr. Botayne groaned. 

"We'll make it as pleasant as we can for you, sir, " continued thedetective, "if you and the lady'll go back on the ship with us. We'llgive him the liberty of the ship as soon as we're well away from land. We'd consider it our duty to watch him, of course; but we'd try to do itso's not to give offense--we've _got_ hearts, though we _are_ in thisbusiness. Hope you can buy him clear when you get home, sir?"

"I've sacrificed everything to get here--I can never clear him, " sighedMr Botayne. 

"_I_ can!" exclaimed a clear, manly voice. 

Millicent raised her eyes, and for the first time saw Jim Hockson. 

She gave him a look in which astonishment, gratitude and fear strove forthe mastery, and he gave her a straightforward, honest, respectful lookin return. 

The two detectives dropped their lower jaws alarmingly, and raised theireyebrows to their hat-rims. 

"The bank at San Francisco has an agent here, " said Jim. "Colonel, won'tyou fetch him?"

The colonel took a lively double-quick, and soon returned with abusiness-looking man. 

"Mr. Green, " said Jim, "please tell me how much I have in your bank?"

The clerk looked over a small book he extracted from his pocket, andreplied, briefly:

"Over two thousand ounces. "

"Please give these gentlemen a check, made whatever way they like it, for the equivalent of thirty thousand dollars. I'll sign it, " said Jim. 

The clerk and one of the detectives retired to an adjacent hut, and sooncalled Jim. Jim joined them, and immediately he and the officer returnedto the prisoner. 

"It's all right, Maxley, " said the officer; "let him go. "

The officer removed the handcuffs, and Ethelbert Brown was free. Hisfirst motion was to seize Jim's hand. 

"Hockson, tell me why you helped those detectives, " said he. 

"Revenge!" replied Jim. 

"For what?" cried Brown, changing color. 

"Gaining Millie Botayne's love, " replied Jim. 

Brown looked at Millicent, and read the story from her face. 

He turned toward Jim a wondering look, and asked, slowly:

"Then, why did you free me?"

"Because she loved you, " said Jim, and then he walked quietly away. 

V. 

"Why, Miss Peekin!"

"It's a fact: Eben Javash, that went out better'n a year ago, hez gotback, and he wuz at the next diggins an' heerd all about it. 'T seemsthe officers ketched Brown, an' Jim Hockson gave 'em thirty thousanddollars to pay them an' the bank too, and then they let him go. Might'swell ha kept his money, though, seein' Brown washed overboard on the wayback. 

"I ain't a bettin' man, " said the deacon, "but I'd risk our white-facedcow that them thirty thousand dollars preached the greatest sermon everheerd in Californy--ur in Crankett either. "

Miss Peekin threw a withering glance at the deacon; it was good he wasnot on trial for heresy, with Miss Peekin for judge and jury. Shecontinued:

"Eben says there was a fellow named Weasel that hid close by, an' heerdall 'twas said, and when he went to the rum-shop an' told the miners, they hooray'd for Jim ez ef they wuz mad. Just like them crazyfellers--they hain't no idee when money's wasted. "

"The Lord waste all the money in the world that way!" devoutlyexclaimed the deacon. 

"An' that feller Weasel, " continued Miss Peekin, giving the deacon's petcat a vicious kick, "though he'd always been economical, an' never set abad example before by persuadin' folk to be intemprit, actilly drored apistol, and fit with a feller they called Colonel Two--fit for thechance of askin' the crowd to drink to Jim Hockson, an' then went aroun'to all the diggins, tellin' about Jim, an' wastin' his money treatin'folks to drink good luck to Jim. Disgraceful!"

"It's what _I'd_ call a powerful conversion, " remarked the deacon. 

"But ther's more, " said Miss Peekin, with a sigh, and yet with an air ofimportance befitting the bearer of wonderful tidings. 

"What?" eagerly asked Mrs. Crankett. 

"Jim's back, " said Miss Peekin. 

"Mercy on us!" cried Mrs. Crankett. 

"The Lord bless and prosper him!" earnestly exclaimed the deacon. 

"Well, " said Miss Peekin, with a disgusted look, "I s'pose He will, fromthe looks o' things; fur Eben sez that when Weasel told the fellers howit all wuz, they went to work an' put gold dust in a box fur Jim tillther wus more than he giv fur Brown, an' fellers from all round's beensendin' him dust ever since. He's mighty sight the richest man anywherenear this town. "

"Good--bless the Lord!" said the deacon, with delight. 

"Ye hain't heerd all of it, though, " continued Miss Peekin, with afunereal countenance. "They're going to be married. "

"Sakes alive '" gasps Mrs. Crankett. 

"It's so, " said Miss Peekin; "an' they say she sent for him, by way ofthe Isthmus, an' he come back that way. Bad enough to marry him, whenpoor Brown hain't been dead six months, but to _send_ for him--"

"Wuz a real noble, big-hearted, womanly thing to do, " declared Mrs. Crankett, snatching off her spectacles; "an' I'd hev done it myself efI'd been her. "

The deacon gave his old wife an enthusiastic hug; upon seeing which MissPeekin hastily departed, with a severely shocked expression ofcountenance and a nose aspiring heavenward. 

MAKING HIS MARK. 

Black Hat was, in 1851, about as peaceful and well-regulated a villageas could be found in the United States. 

It was not on the road to any place, so it grew but little; the dirtpaid steadily and well, so but few of the original settlers went away. 

The march of civilization, with its churches and circuses, had not yetreached Black Hat; marriages never convulsed the settlement with the petexcitement of villages generally, and the inhabitants were never arrayedat swords' point by either religion, politics or newspapers. 

To be sure, the boys gambled every evening and all day Sunday; but afamous player, who once passed that way on a prospecting-trip, declaredthat even a preacher would get sick of such playing; for, as everybodyknew everybody else's game, and as all men who played other thansquarely had long since been required to leave, there was an utterabsence of pistols at the tables. 

Occasional disagreements took place, to be sure--they have been takingplace, even among the best people, since the days of Cain and Abel; butall difficulties at Black Hat which did not succumb to force of jaw werequietly locked in the bosoms of the disputants until the first Sunday. 

Sunday, at Black Hat, orthodoxically commenced at sunset on Saturday, and was piously extended through to working-time on Monday morning, andduring this period of thirty-six hours there was submitted toarbitrament, by knife or pistol, all unfinished rows of the week. 

On Sunday was also performed all of the hard drinking at Black Hat; butthrough the week the inhabitants worked as steadily and lived aspeacefully as if surrounded by church-steeples court-houses and jails. 

Whether owing to the inevitable visitations of the great disturber ofaffairs in the Garden of Eden, or only in the due course of thatdevelopement which affects communities as well as species, we know not, but certain it is that suddenly the city fathers at Black Hat began towear thoughtful faces and wrinkled brows, to indulge in unusual periodsof silence, and to drink and smoke as if these consoling occupationswere pursued more as matters of habit than of enjoyment. 

The prime cause of the uneasiness of these good men was a red-faced, red-haired, red-whiskered fellow, who had been nicknamed "Captain, " onaccount of the military cut of the whiskers mentioned above. 

The captain was quite a good fellow; but he was suffering severely from"the last infirmity of noble minds"--ambition. 

He had gone West to make a reputation, and so openly did he work for itthat no one doubted his object; and so untiring and convincing was he, that, in two short weeks, he had persuaded the weaker of the brethren atBlack Hat that things in general were considerably out of joint. And asa, little leaven leaveneth the whole lump, every man at Black Hat wassoon discussing the captain's criticisms, and was neglecting the morepeaceable matters of cards and drink, which had previously occupiedtheir leisure hours. 

The captain was always fully charged with opinions on every subject, andhis eloquent voice was heard at length on even the smallest matter thatinterested the camp. One day a disloyal miner remarked:

"Captain's jaw is a reg'lar air-trigger; reckon he'll run the camp whenWhitey leaves. "

Straightway a devout respecter of the "powers that be" carried theremark to Whitey, the chief of the camp. 

Now, it happened that Whitey, an immense but very peaceable and sensiblefellow, had just been discussing with some of his adherents the probabledesigns of the captain, and this new report seemed to arrive just intime, for Whitey instantly said:

"Thar he goes agin, d'ye see, pokin' his shovel in all aroun'. Now, efthe boys want me to leave, they kin say so, an' I'll go. 'Tain't theeasiest claim in the world to work, runnin' this camp ain't, an' I'llnever hanker to be chief nowhar else; but seein' I've stuck to the boys, an' seen 'em through from the fust, 'twouldn't be exactly gent'emanly, 'pears to me. "

And for a moment Whitey hid his emotions in a tin cup, from whichescaped perfumes suggesting the rye-fields of Kentucky. 

"Nobody wants you to go, Whitey, " said Wolverine, one of the chief'smost faithful supporters. "Didn't yer kick that New Hampshire feller outof camp when he kept a-sayin' the saloon wuz the gate o' hell?"

"Well, " said the chief, with a flush of modest pride, "I don't deny it;but _I_ wont remind the boys of it, ef they've forgot it. "

"An' didn't yer go to work, " said another, "when all the fellers wasa-askin' what was to be done with them Chinesers--didn't yer just orderthe boys to clean 'em out to wunst?"

"That ain't the best thing yer dun, neither!" exclaimed a third. "Iwonder does any of them galoots forgit how the saloon got a-fire whenev'rybody was asleep--how the chief turned out the camp, and after thebarkeeper got out the door, how the chief rushed in an' rolled out allthree of the barrels, and then went dead-bent fur the river with hisclothes all a-blazin'? Whar'd we hev been for a couple of weeks ef ithadn't bin fur them bar'ls?"

The remembrance of this gallant act so affected Wolverine, that heexclaimed:

"Whitey, we'll stick to yer like tar-an'-feather, an' ef cap'n an' hisfriends git troublesome we'll jes' show 'em the trail, an' seggestthey're big enough to git up a concern uv their own, instid of tryin' tosteal somebody else's. "

The chief felt that he was still dear to the hearts of his subjects, andso many took pains that day to renew their allegiance that he grewmagnanimous--in fact, when the chief that evening invited the boys todrink, he pushed his own particular bottle to the captain--an attentionas delicate as that displayed by a clergyman when he invites into hispulpit the minister of a different creed. 

Still the captain labored. So often did the latter stand treat that thebarkeeper suddenly ran short of liquor, and was compelled, for a week, to restrict general treats to three per diem until he could lay in afresh stock. 

The captain could hit corks and half-dollars in the air almost everytime, but no opportunity occurred in which he could exercise hismarkmanship for the benefit of the camp. 

He also told any number of good stories, at which the boys, Whiteyincluded, laughed heartily; he sang jolly songs, with a very fair tenorvoice, and all the boys joined in the chorus; and he played a banjo instyle, which always set the boys to capering as gracefully as a crowd ofbachelor bears. 

But still Whitey remained in camp and in office, and the captain, whowas as humane as he was ambitious, had no idea of attempting to removethe old chief by force. 

On Monday night the whole camp retired early, and slept soundly. Mondayhad at all times a very short evening at Black Hat, for the boys weregenerally weary after the duties and excitements of Sunday; but on thisparticular Monday a slide had threatened on the hillside, and the boyshad been hard at work cutting and carrying huge logs to make a break orbarricade. 

So, soon after supper they took a drink or two, and sprinkled to theirseveral huts, and Black Hat was at peace, There were no dogs or cats tomake night hideous--no uneasy roosters to be sounding alarm at unearthlyhours--no horrible policemen thumping the sidewalks with clubs--nofashionable or dissipated people rattling about in carriages. Exceptingan occasional cough, or sneeze, or over-loud snore, the most perfectpeace reigned at Black Hat. 

[Illustration: THEY FOUND HIM SENSELESS, AND CARRIED HIM TO THE SALOON, WHERE THE CANDLES WERE ALREADY LIGHTED. ONE OF THE MINERS, WHO HAD BEENA DOCTOR, PROMPTLY EXAMINED HIS BRUISES. ]

Suddenly a low but heavy rumble, and a trembling of the ground, rousedevery man in camp, and, rushing out of their huts, the miners saw a massof stones and earth had been loosened far up the hillside, and werebreaking over the barricade in one place, and coming down in a perfecttorrent. 

They were fortunately moving toward the river on a line obstructed by nohouses, though the hut of old Miller, who was very sick, was close tothe rocky torrent. 

But while they stared, a young pine-tree, perhaps a foot thick, whichhad been torn loose by the rocks and brought down by them, suddenlytumbled, root first, over a steep rock, a few feet in front of oldMiller's door. The leverage exerted by the lower portion of the stemthrew the whole tree into a vertical position for an instant; then itcaught the wind, tottered, and finally fell directly on the front of oldMiller's hut, crushing in the gable and a portion of the front door, andthreatening the hut and its unfortunate occupant with immediatedestruction. 

A deep groan and many terrible oaths burst from the boys, and then, withone impulse, they rushed to the tree and attempted to move it; but itlay at an angle of about forty-five degrees from the horizontal, itsroots heavy with dirt, on the ground in front of the door, and its tophigh in the air. 

The boys could only lift the lower portion; but should they do so, thenthe hut would be entirely crushed by the full weight of the tree. 

There was no window through which they could get Miller out, and therewas no knowing how long the frail hut could resist the weight of thetree. 

Suddenly a well-known voice was heard shouting;

"Keep your head level, Miller, old chap--we'll hev you out of that in notime. Hurry up, somebody, and borrow the barkeeper's ropes. While I'mcuttin', throw a rope over the top, and when she commences to go, haulall together and suddenly, then 'twill clear the hut. "

In an instant later the boys saw, by the bright moonlight, the captain, bareheaded, barefooted, with open shirt, standing on the tree directlyover the crushed gable, and chopping with frantic rapidity. 

"Hooray for cap'en!" shouted some one. 

"Hooray!" replied the crowd, and a feeble "hooray"' was heard frombetween the logs of old Miller's hut. 

Two or three men came hurrying back with the ropes, and one of them wasdexterously thrown across a branch of the tree. Then the boysdistributed themselves along both ends of the rope. 

"Easy!" screamed the captain. "Plenty of time. I'll give the word. WhenI say, 'Now, ' pull quick and all together. I won't be long. "

And big chips flew in undiminished quantity, while a commendatory murmurran along both lines of men, and Whitey, the chief, knelt with his lipsto one of the chinks of the hut, and assured old Miller that he wasperfectly safe. 

"Now!" shrieked the captain, suddenly. 

In his excitement, he stepped toward the top instead of the root of thetree; in an instant the top of the tree was snatched from the hut, butit tossed the unfortunate captain into the air as easily as a slingtosses a stone. 

Every one rushed to the spot where he had fallen. They found himsenseless, and carried him to the saloon, where the candles were alreadylighted. One of the miners, who had been a doctor, promptly examined hisbruises, and exclaimed:

"He's two or three broken ribs, that's all. It's a wonder he didn'tbreak every bone in his body. He'll be around all right inside of amonth. "

"Gentlemen, " said Whitey, "I resign. All in favor of the cap'en willplease say 'I. '"

"I, " replied every one. 

"I don't put the noes, " continued Whitey, "because I'm a peaceable man, and don't want to hev to kick any man mean enough to vote no. Cap'en, you'r boss of this camp, and I'm yourn obediently. "

The captain opened his eyes slowly, and replied:

"I'm much obliged, boys, but I won't give Whitey the trouble. Doctor'smistaken--there's someting broken inside, and I haven't got many minutesmore to live. "

"Do yer best, cap'en, " said the barkeeper, encouragingly. "Promise meyou'll stay alive, and I'll go straight down to 'Frisco, and get you allthe champagne you can drink. "

"You're very kind, " replied the captain, faintly; "but I'm sent for, andI've got to go. I've left the East to make my mark, but I didn't expectto make it in real estate. Whitey, I was a fool for wanting to be chiefof Black Hat, and you've forgiven me like a gentleman and a Christian. It's getting dark--I'm thirsty--I'm going--gone!"

The doctor felt the captain's wrist, and said:

"Fact, gentlemen, he's panned his last dirt. "

"Do the honors, boys, " said the barkeeper, placing glasses along thebar. 

Each man filled his glass, and all looked at Whitey. 

"Boys, " said Whitey, solemnly, "ef the cap'en hed struck a nugget, goodluck might hev spiled him; ef he'd been chief of Black Hat, or any otherplace, he might hev got shot. But he's made his mark, so nobodybegrudges him, an' nobody can rub it out. So here's to 'the cap'en'smark, a dead sure thing. ' Bottoms up. "

The glasses were emptied in silence, and turned bottoms uppermost on thebar. 

The boys were slowly dispersing, when one, who was strongly suspected ofhaving been a Church member remarked:

"He was took of a sudden, so he shouldn't be stuck up. "

Whitey turned to him, and replied, with some asperity:

"Young man, you'll be lucky ef _you're_ ever stuck up as high as thecaptain. "

And all the boys understood what Whitey meant. 

CODAGO. 

Two o'clock A. M. Is supposed to be a popular sleeping hour the worldover, and as Flatfoot Bar was a portion of the terrestrial sphere, itwas but natural to expect its denizens to be in bed at that hour. 

Yet, on a certain morning twenty years ago, when there was neithersickness nor a fashionable entertainment to excuse irregular hours incamp, a bright light streamed from the only window of Chagres Charley'sresidence at Flatfoot Bar, and inside of the walls of Chagres Charley'sdomicile were half a dozen miners engaged in earnest conversation. 

Flatfoot Bar had never formally elected a town committee, for thehalf-dozen men aforesaid had long ago modestly assumed the duties andresponsibilities of city fathers, and so judicious had been theirconduct, that no one had ever expressed a desire for a change in thegovernment. 

The six men, in half a dozen different positions, surrounded ChagresCharley's fire, and gazed into it as intently as if they werefire-worshipers awaiting the utterances of a salamanderish oracle. 

But the doughty Puritans of Cromwell's time, while they trusted in God, carefully protected their powder from moisture, and the devoutMohammedan, to this day, ties up his camel at night before committing itto the keeping of the higher powers; so it was but natural that theanxious ones at Flatfoot Bar vigorously ventilated their own ideas whilethey longed for light and knowledge. 

"They ain't ornaments to camp, no way you can fix it, them Greasersain't, " said a tall miner, bestowing an effective kick upon a stick offirewood, which had departed a short distance from his neighbors. 

"Mississip's right, fellers, " said the host. "They ain't got theslightest idee of the duties of citizens. They show themselves down tothe saloon, to be sure, an' I never seed one of 'em a-waterin. ' hisliquor; but when you've sed that, you've sed ev'rythin'. "

"Our distinguished friend, speaks truthfully, " remarked Nappy Boney, theonly Frenchman in camp, and possessing a nickname playfully contractedfrom the name of the first emperor. "_La gloire_ is nothing to them. Comprehends any one that they know not even of France's most illustriousson, _le petit caporal_?"

"That's bad, to be sure, " said Texas, cutting an enormous chew oftobacco, and passing both plug and knife; "but that might be overlooked;mebbe the schools down in Mexico ain't up with the times. What I'm downon is, they hain't got none of the eddication that comes nateral to agentleman, even, ef he never seed the outside of a schoolhouse. Who everheerd of one of 'em hevin' a difficulty with any gentleman, at thesaloon or on the crick? They drar a good deal of blood, but it's allersfrom some of their own kind, an' up there by 'emselves. Ef they hed agrain of public spirit, not to say liberality, they'd do some of theiramusements before the rest of us, instead of gougin' the camp out of_its_ constitutional amusements. Why, I've knowed the time when I'veheld in fur six hours on a stretch, till there could be fellers enougharound to git a good deal of enjoyment out of it. "

"They wash out a sight of dust!" growled Lynn Taps, from theMassachusetts shoe district; "but I never could git one of 'em to put upan ounce on a game--they jest play by 'emselves, an' keep all theirwashin's to home. "

"Blarst 'em hall! let's give 'em tickets-o'-leave, an' show em thetrail!" roared Bracelets, a stout Englishman, who had on each wrist ared scar, which had suggested his name and unpleasant situations. "Ibelieve in fair play, but I darsn't keep my eyes hoff of 'emsleepy-lookin' tops, when their flippers is anywheres near their knives, you know. "

"Well, what's to be done to 'em?" demanded Lynn Taps. "All this jawin'swell enough, but jaw never cleared out anybody 'xcep' that time Samsontried, an' _then_ it came from an individual that wasn't related to anyof _this_ crowd. "

"Let 'em alone till next time they git into a muss, an' then clean 'emall out of camp, " said Chagres Charley. "Let's hev it onderstood thatwhile this camp cheerfully recognizes the right of a gentleman to shootat sight an' lay out his man, that it considers stabbin' in the dark'sthe same thing as murder. Them's our principles, and folks might's wellknow 'em fust as last. Good Lord! what's that?"

All the men started to their feet at the sound of a long, loud yell. 

"That's one of 'em now!" ejaculated Mississip, with a huge oath. "Nobodybut a Greaser ken holler that way--sounds like the last despairin' cryof a dyin' mule. There's only eight or nine of 'em, an' each of us isgood fur two Greasers apiece--let's make 'em git this minnit. "

And Mississip dashed out of the door, followed by the other five, revolvers in hand. 

The Mexicans lived together, in a hut made of raw hides, one of whichconstituted the door. 

The devoted six reached the hut, Texas snatched aside the hide, and eachman presented his pistol at full cock. 

But no one fired; on the contrary, each man slowly dropped his pistol, and opened his eyes. 

There was no newly made corpse visible, nor did any Greasers savagelywave a bloody stiletto. 

But on the ground, insensible, lay a Mexican woman, and about her stoodseven or eight Greasers, each looking even more dumb, incapable, andsolemn than usual. 

The city fathers felt themselves in an awkward position, and Mississipfinally asked, in the meekest of tones:

"What's the matter?"

"She Codago's wife, " softly replied a Mexican. "They fight inChihuahua--he run away--she follow. She come here now--this minute--shefall on Codago--she say something, we know not--he scream an' run. "

"He's a low-lived scoundrel!" said Chagres Charley, between his teeth. "Ef _my_ wife thort enough of me to follow me to the diggin's, Iwouldn't do much runnin' away. He's a reg'lar black-hearted, white-livered--"

"Sh--h--h!" whispered Nappy, the Frenchman. "The lady is recovering, andshe may have a heart. "

"_Maria, Madre purissima_!" low wailed the woman. "_Mi nino--mi ninoperdido_!"

"What's she a-sayin'?" asked Lynn Taps, in a whisper. 

"She talk about little boy lost, " said the Mexican. 

"An' her husband gone, too, poor woman!" said Chagres Charley, in themost sympathizing tones ever heard at Flatfoot Bar. "But a doctor'd bemore good to her jes' now than forty sich husbands as her'n. Where's thenearest doctor, fellers?" continued Chagres Charley. 

"Up to Dutch Hill, " said Texas; "an' I'll see he's fetched inside of twohours. "

Saying which, Texas dropped the raw-hide door, and hurried off. 

The remaining five strolled slowly back to Chagres Charley's hut. 

"Them Greasers hain't never got nothin', " said Mississip, suddenly; "an'that woman'll lay thar on the bare ground all night 'fore they think ofmakin' her comfortable. Who's got an extra blanket?"

"I!" said each of the four others; and Nappy Boney expressed the feelingof the whole party by exclaiming:

"The blue sky is enough good to cover man when woman needs blankets. "

Hastily Mississip collected the four extra blankets and both of his own, and, as he sped toward the Mexican hut, he stopped several times by theway to dexterously snatch blankets from sleeping forms. 

"Here you be, " said he, suddenly entering the Mexican hut, andstartling the inmates into crossing themselves violently. "Make the poorthing a decent bed, an' we'll hev a doctor here pretty soon. "

[Illustration: SUDDENLY, BY THE GLARE OF A FRESH LIGHT, THE BOYS SAW THEFACE OF A RATHER DIRTY, LARGE-EYED, BROWN SKINNED MEXICAN BABY. ]

Mississip had barely vanished, when a light scratching was heard on thedoor. 

A Mexican opened it, and saw Nappy Boney, with extended hand and bottle. 

"It is the _eau-de-vie_ of _la belle France_, " he whispered. "TenderlyI have cherished, but it is at the lady's service. "

Chagres Charley, Lynn Taps and Bracelets were composing their nerveswith pipes about the fire they had surrounded early in the morning. LynnTaps had just declared his disbelief of a soul inside of the Mexicanframe, when the door was thrown open and an excited Mexican appeared. 

"Her tongue come back!" he cried. "She say she come over mountain--shebring little boy--she no eat, it was long time. Soon she must die, boymust die. What she do? She put round boy her cloak, an' leave him byrock, an' hurry to tell. Maybe coyote get him. What can do?"

"What can we do?" echoed Lynn Taps; "turn out every galoot in camp, andfoller her tracks till we find it. Souls or no souls, don't make nodiff'rence. I'll tramp my legs off, 'fore that child shall be left outin the snow in them mountains. "

Within five minutes every man in camp had been aroused. 

Each man swore frightfully at being prematurely turned out--each manhated the Greasers with all his heart and soul and strength; but eachman, as he learned what was the matter, made all possible haste, andfluently cursed all who were slower than himself. 

In fact, two or three irrepressible spirits, consuming with delay, started alone on independent lines of search. 

Chagres Charley appeared promptly, and assumed command. 

"Boys, " said he, "we'll sprinkle out into a line a couple of miles long, and march up the mountain till we reach the snow. When I think it'stime, I'll fire three times, an' then each feller'll face an' tramp tothe right, keepin' a keerful lookout for a woman's tracks p'intin't'ward camp. Ther can't be no mistakin' 'em, for them sennyritas hez thelittlest kind o' feet. When any feller finds her tracks, he'll fire, an'then we'll rally on him. I wish them other fellers, instid of goin' offhalf-cocked, hed tracked Codago, the low-lived skunk. To think of himrunnin' away from wife, an' young one, too! Forward, git!"

"They _hain't_ got no souls--that's what made him do it, Charley, " saidLynn Taps, as the men deployed. 

Steadily the miners ascended the rugged slope; rocks, trees, fallentrunks and treacherous holes impeded their progress, but did not stopthem. 

A steady wind cut them to the bone, and grew more keen and fierce asthey neared the snow. 

Suddenly Chagres Charley fired, and the boys faced to the right--amoment later another shot rallied the party; those nearest it foundNappy Boney in a high state of excitement, and leaning over afoot-print. 

"_Mon Dieu_!" he cried; "they have not the _esprit_, those Mexicans; buther footprints might have been made by the adorable feet of one of mycountrywomen, it is so small. "

"Yes, " said Mississip; "an' one of them fellers that started ahead hezfound it fust, fur here's a man's track a-goin' up. "

Rapidly the excited miners followed the tracks through the snow, andfound them gradually leading to the regular trail across the mountain, which trail few men ventured upon at that season. Suddenly the men inadvance stopped. 

"Here 'tis, I reckon!" cried Mississip, springing across a small cleftin the rocks, and running toward a dark object lying on the shelteredside of a small cliff. "Good God!" he continued, as he stooped down;"it's Codago! An' he's froze stiff. "

"Serve him right, cuss him, " growled Lynn Taps. "I almost wish he _had_a soul, so he could catch it good an' hot, now he's gone!"

"He's got his pack with him, " shouted Mississip, "and a huggin' it eztight ez ef he could take it to--to wherever he's gone to. ". 

"No man with a soul could hev ben cool enough to pack up his traps afterseein' that poor woman's face, " argued Lynn Taps. 

Mississip tore off a piece of his trowsers, struck fire with flint andsteel, poured on whisky, and blew it into a flame. 

Rapidly the miners straggled up the trail, and halted oppositeMississip. 

"Well, I'll be durned!" shouted the latter; "he ain't got no shirt on, an' there's an ugly cut in his arm. It beats anything I ever seed!"

One by one the miners leaped the cleft, and crowded about Mississip andstared. 

It was certainly Codago, and there was certainly his pack, made up inhis poncho, in the usual Greaser manner, and held tightly in his arms. 

But while they stared, there was a sudden movement of the pack itself. 

Lynn Taps gave a mighty tug at it, extricated it from the dead man'sgrasp, and rapidly undid it. 

Suddenly, by the glare of a fresh light, the boys saw the face of arather dirty, large-eyed, brown-skinned Mexican baby; and the baby, probably by way of recognition, raised high a voice such as the boysnever heard before on that side of the Rocky Mountains. 

"Here's what that cut in his arm means, " shouted a miner who had strucka light on the trail; "there's a finger-mark, done in blood on the snow, by the side of the trail, an' a-pintin' right to that ledge; an' here'shis shirt a-flappin' on a stick stuck in a snow-bank lookin' t'wardcamp. "

"There ain't no doubt 'bout what the woman said to him, or what made himyell an' git, boys, " said Chagres Charley, solemnly, as he took ablanket from his shoulders and spread it on the ground. 

Mississip took off his hat, and lifting the poor Mexican from the snow, laid him in the blanket. Lynn Taps hid the baby, rewrapped, under hisown blanket, and hurried down the mountain, while four men picked upCodago and followed. 

Lynn Taps scratched on the rawhide door; the doctor opened it. 

Lynn Tapps unrolled the bundle, and its occupant again raised itsvoice. 

The woman, who was lying motionless and with closed eyes, sprang to herfeet in an instant, and as Lynn Taps laid his burden on the blankets, the woman, her every dull feature softened and lighted with motherlytenderness, threw her arms about the astonished Yankee, and then fellsobbing at his feet. 

"You've brought her the only medicine that'll do her any good, " said thedoctor, giving the baby a gentle dig under the ribs as he picked up hissaddle-bags. 

Lynn Taps made a hasty escape, and reached the saloon, which had beenhurriedly opened as the crowd was heard approaching. 

The bearers of the body deposited it gently on the floor, and the crowdfiled in quietly. 

Lynn Taps walked up to the bar, and rapped upon it. 

"Walk up, boys, " said he; "fill high; hats off. Here's Codago. Maybe he_didn't_ have a soul, but if he _didn't_, souls ain't needed in thisworld. Buttoms up, every man. "

The toast was drunk quietly and reverently, and when it was suggestedthat the Greasers themselves should have participated, they were allsummoned, and the same toast was drank again. 

The next day, as the body of Codago was being carried to a newly duggrave, on the high ground overlooking the creek, and the Mexicans stoodabout, as if dumb staring and incessant smoking were the onlyproprieties to be observed on such occasions, Lynn Taps thoughtfullyoffered his arm to the weeping widow, and so sorrowful was shethroughout the performance of the sad rites, that Lynn Taps was heard toremark that, however it might be with the men, there could be no doubtabout Mexican women's possessing souls. As a few weeks later the widowbecame Mrs. Lynn Taps, there can be no doubt that her second husband'sfinal convictions were genuine. 

THE LAST PIKE AT JAGGER'S BEND

Where they came from no one knew. Among the farmers near the Bend therewas ample ability to conduct researches beset by far more difficultiesthan was that of the origin of the Pikes; but a charge of buckshot whicha good-natured Yankee received one evening, soon after putting questionsto a venerable Pike, exerted a depressing influence upon the spirit ofinvestigation. They were not bloodthirsty, these Pikes, but they hadgood reason to suspect all inquirers of being at least deputy sheriffs, if not worse; and a Pike's hatred of officers of the law is equaled inintensity only by his hatred for manual labor. 

But while there was doubt as to the fatherland of the little colony ofPikes at Jagger's Bend, their every neighbor would willingly makeaffidavit as to the cause of their locating and remaining at the Bend. When humanitarians and optimists argued that it was because the waterwas good and convenient, that the Bend itself caught enough drift-woodfor fuel, and that the dirt would yield a little gold when manipulatedby placer and pan, all farmers and stockowners would freely admit thevalidity of these reasons; but the admission was made with a countenancewhose indignation and sorrow indicated that the greater causes were yetunnamed. With eyes speaking emotions which words could not express, theywould point to sections of wheatfields minus the grain-bearing heads--tohides and hoofs of cattle unslaughtered by themselves--to mothers ofpromising calves, whose tender bleatings answered not the maternalcall--to the places which had once known fine horses, but had beenuntenanted since certain Pikes had gone across, the mountains for game. They would accuse no man wrongfully, but in a country where all farmershad wheat and cattle and horses, and where prowling Indians and Mexicanswere not, how could these disappearances occur?

But to people owning no property in the neighborhood--to tourists andartists--the Pike settlement at the Bend was as interesting and ugly asa skye-terrier. The architecture of the village was of original style, and no duplicate existed. Of the half-dozen residences, one was composedexclusively of sod; another of bark; yet another of poles, roofed with awagon-cover, and plastered on the outside with mud; the fourth was ofslabs, nicely split from logs which had drifted into the Bend; the fifthwas of hide stretched over a frame strictly gothic from foundation toridgepole; while the sixth, burrowed into the hillside, displayed onlythe barrel which formed its chimney. 

A more aristocratic community did not exist on the Pacific Coast. Visitthe Pikes when you would, you could never see any one working. Ofchurches, school-houses, stores and other plebeian institutions, therewere none; and no Pike demeaned himself by entering trade, or soiled hishands by agriculture. 

Yet unto this peaceful, contented neighborhood there found his way avisitor who had been everywhere in the world without once being madewelcome. He came to the house built of slabs, and threatened the wife ofSam Trotwine, owner of the house; and Sam, after sunning himselfuneasily for a day or two, mounted a pony, and rode off for a doctor todrive the intruder away. 

When he returned he found all the men in the camp seated on a log infront of his own door, and then he knew he must prepare for theworst--only one of the great influences of the world could force everyPike from his own door at exactly the same time. There they sat, yellow-faced, bearded, long-backed and bent, each looking like theother, find all like Sam; and, as he dismounted, they all looked at him. 

"How is she?" said Sam, tying his horse and the doctor's, while thelatter went in. 

"Well, " said the oldest man, with deliberation, "the wimmin's all tharef that's any sign. "

Each man on the log inclined his head slightly but positively to theleft, thus manifesting belief that Sam had been correctly andsufficiently answered. Sam himself seemed to regard his information inabout the same manner. 

Suddenly the raw hide which formed the door of Sam's house was pushedaside, and a woman came out and called Sam, and he disappeared from hislog. 

As he entered his hut, all the women lifted sorrowful faces and retired;no one even lingered, for the Pike has not the common human interest inother people's business; he lacks that, as well as certain similarvirtues of civilization. 

Sam dropped by the bedside, and was human; his heart was in the rightplace; and though heavily intrenched by years of laziness and whisky andtobacco, it _could_ be brought to the front, and it came now. 

The dying woman cast her eyes appealingly at the surgeon, and thatworthy stepped outside the door. Then the yellow-faced woman said:

"Sam, doctor says I ain't got much time left. "

"Mary, " said Sam, "I wish ter God I could die fur yer. The children--"

"It's them I want to talk about, Sam, " replied his wife. 'An' I wishthey could die with me, rather'n hev 'em liv ez I've hed to. Not thatyou ain't been a kind husband to me, for you hev. Whenever I wanted meatyev got it, somehow; an' when yev been ugly drunk, yev kep' away fromthe house. But I'm dyin', Sam, and it's cos you've killed me. "

"Good God, Mary!" cried the astonished Sam, jumping up; "yurecrazy--here, doctor!"

"Doctor can't do no good, Sam; keep still, and listen, ef yer love melike yer once said yer did; for I hevn't got much breath left, " gaspedthe woman. 

"Mary, " said the aggrieved Sam, "I swow to God I dunno what yer drivin'at. "

"It's jest this, Sam, " replied the woman: "Yer tuk me, tellin' me ye'dlove me an' honor me an' pertect me. You mean to say, now, yev done it?I'm a-dyin', Sam--I hain't got no favors to ask of nobody, an' I'mtellin' the truth, not knowin' what word'll be my last. "

"Then tell a feller where the killin' came in, Mary, for heaven's sake, "said the unhappy Sam. 

"It's come in all along, Sam, " said the woman; "there is women in theStates, so I've heerd, that marries fur a home, an' bread an' butter, but you promised more'n that, Sam. An' I've waited. An' it ain't come. An' there's somethin' in me that's all starved and cut to pieces. An'it's your fault, Sam. I tuk yer fur better or fur wuss, an' I've nevergrumbled. "

"I know yer hain't, Mary, " whispered the conscience-stricken Pike. "An'I know what yer mean. Ef God'll only let yer be fur a few years, I'llsee ef the thing can't be helped. Don't cuss me, Mary--I've never knowedhow I've been a-goin'. I wish there was somethin' I could do 'fore yougo, to pay yer all I owe yer. I'd go back on everything that makes lifeworth hevin'. "

"Pay it to the children, Sam, " said the sick woman, raising herself inher miserable bed. "I'll forgive yer everything if you'll do the rightthing fur them. Do--do--everything!" said the woman, throwing up herarms and falling backward. Her husband's arm caught her; his lipsbrought to her wan face a smile, which the grim visitor, who an instantlater stole her breath, pityingly left in full possession of therightful inheritance from which it had been so long excluded. 

Sam knelt for a moment with his face beside his wife--what he said ordid the Lord only knew, but the doctor, who was of a speculative mind, afterward said that when Sam appeared at the door he showed the firstPike face in which he had ever seen any signs of a soul. 

Sam went to the sod house, where lived the oldest woman in the camp, andbriefly announced the end of his wife. Then, after some consultationwith the old woman, Sam rode to town on one of his horses, leadinganother. He came back with but one horse and a large bundle; and soonthe women were making for Mrs. Trotwine her last earthly robe, and thefirst new one she had worn for years. The next day a wagon brought acoffin and a minister, and the whole camp silently and respectfullyfollowed Mrs. Trotwine to a home with which she could find no fault. 

For three days all the male Pikes in the camp sat on the log in front ofSam's door, and expressed their sympathy as did the three friends ofJob--that is, they held their peace. But on the fourth their tongueswere unloosed. As a conversationalist the Pike is not a success, butSam's actions were so unusual and utterly unheard of, that it seemed asif even the stones must have wondered and communed among themselves. 

"I never heard of such a thing, " said Brown Buck; "he's gone an' boughtnew clothes for each of the four young 'uns. "

"Yes, " said the patriarch of the camp, "an' this mornin', when I wentdown to the bank to soak my head, 'cos last night's liquor didn't agreewith it, I seed Sam with all his young 'uns as they wuz a washin' theirface an' hands with soap. They'll ketch their death an' be on the hillwith their mother 'fore long, if he don't look out; somebody ort toreason with him. "

"'Twon't do no good, " sighed Limping Jim. "He's lost his head, an'reason just goes into one ear and out at t'other. When he was scrapin'aroun' the front door t'other day, an' I asked him what he wuz a-layin'the ground all bare an' desolate for, he said he was done keepin'pig-pen. Now everybody but him knows he never had a pig. His head'sgone, just mark my words. "

On the morning of the fourth day Sam's friends had just secured a fullattendance on the log, and were at work upon their first pipes, whenthey were startled by seeing Sam harness his horse in the wagon and putall his children into it. 

"Whar yer bound fur, Sam?" asked the patriarch. 

Sam blushed as near as a Pike could, but answered with only a littlehesitation:

"Goin' to take 'em to school to Maxfield--goin' to do it ev'ry day. "

The incumbent of the log were too nearly paralyzed to remonstrate, butafter a few moments of silence the patriarch remarked, in tones offeeling, yet decision:

"He's hed a tough time of it, but he's no bizness to ruin thesettlement. I'm an old man myself, an' I need peace of mind, so I'mgoin' to pack up my traps and mosey. When the folks at Maxfield knowswhat he's doin', they'll make him a constable or a justice, an' I'm toomuch of a man to live nigh any sich. "

And next day the patriarch wheeled his family and property to partsunknown. 

A few days later Jim Merrick, a brisk farmer a few miles from the Bend, stood in front of his own house, and shaded his eyes in solemn wonder. It couldn't be--he'd never heard of such a thing before yet itwas--there was no doubt of it--there was a Pike riding right toward him, in open daylight. He could swear that Pike had often visited him--thatis, his wheatfield and corral--after dark, but a daylight visit from aPike was as unusual as a social call of a Samaritan upon a Jew. And whenSam--for it was he--approached Merrick and made his business known, thefarmer was more astonished and confused than he had ever been in hislife before. Sam wanted to know for how much money Merrick would plowand plant a hundred and sixty acres of wheat for him, and whether hewould take Sam's horse--a fine animal, brought from the States, and forwhich Sam could show a bill of sale--as security for the amount until hecould harvest and sell his crop. Merrick so well understood the Pikenature, that he made a very liberal offer, and afterward said he wouldhave paid handsomely for the chance. 

A few days later, and the remaining Pikes at the Bend experienced thegreatest scare that had ever visited their souls. A brisk man came intothe Bend with a tripod on his shoulder, and a wire chain, and some wirepins, and a queer machine under his arm, and before dark the Pikesunderstood that Sam had deliberately constituted himself a renegade byentering a quarter section of land. Next morning two more residenceswere empty, and the remaining fathers of the hamlet adorned not Sam'slog, but wandered about with faces vacant of all expression save theagony of the patriot who sees his home invaded by corrupting influencestoo powerful for him to resist. 

Then Merrick sent up a gang-plow and eight horses, and the tender greenof Sam's quarter section was rapidly changed to a dull-brown color, which is odious unto the eye of the Pike. Day by day the brown spot grewlarger, and one morning Sam arose to find all his neighbors departed, having wreaked their vengeance upon him by taking away his dogs. And inhis delight at their disappearance, Sam freely forgave them all. 

Regularly the children were carried to and from school, and even toSunday-school--regularly every evening Sam visited the grave on thehillside, and came back to lie by the hour looking at the sleepingdarlings--little by little farmers began to realize that their propertywas undisturbed--little by little Sam's wheat grew and waxed golden; andthen there came a day when a man from 'Frisco came and changed it into aheavier gold--more gold than Sam had ever seen before. And the farmersbegan to stop in to see Sam, and their children came to see his, andkind women were unusually kind to the orphans, and as day by day Samtook his solitary walk on the hillside, the load on his heart grewlighter, until he ceased to fear the day when he, too, should lie there. 

[Illustration]

FIRST PRAYER AT HANNEY'S

Hanney's Diggings certainly needed a missionary, if any place ever did;but, as one of the boys once remarked during a great lack of water, "Ithad to keep on a-needin'. " Zealous men came up by steamer _via_ theIsthmus, and seemed to consume with their fiery haste to get on boardthe vessel for China and Japan, and carry the glad tidings to theheathen. Self-sacrificing souls gave up home and friends, and hurriedacross, overland, to brave the Pacific and bury themselves among theAustralasian savages. But, though they all passed in sight of Hanney's, none of them paused to give any attention to the souls who had flockedthere. Men came out from 'Frisco and the East to labor with the Chineseminers, who were the only peaceable and well-behaved people in themines; but the white-faced, good-natured, hard-swearing, generous, heavy-drinking, enthusiastic, murderous Anglo-Saxons they let severelyalone. Perhaps they thought that hearts in which the good seed had oncebeen sown, but failed to come up into fruit, were barren soil; perhapsthey thought it preferable to be killed and eaten by cannibals than tobe tumbled into a gulch by a revolver-shot, while the shootist strolledcalmly off in company with his approving conscience, never thinking toascertain whether his bullet had completed the business, or whether awounded man might not have to fight death and coyotes together. 

At any rate, the missionaries let Hanney's alone. If any one with anunquenchable desire to carry the Word where it is utterly unknown, adigestion without fear, and a full-proof article of common sense (theselast two requisites are absolute), should be looking for an eligiblelocation, Hanney's is just the place for him, and he need give himselfno trouble for fear some one would step in before him. If he has severaldozens of similarly constituted friends, they can all find similarlocations by betaking themselves to any mining camp in the West. 

As Hanney's had no preacher, it will be readily imagined it had nochurch. With the first crowd who located there came an insolventrumseller from the East. He called himself Pentecost, which was as nearhis right name as is usual with miners, and the boys dubbed his shop"Pentecost Chapel" at once. The name, somehow, reached the East, forwithin a few months there reached the post-office at Hanney's a documentaddressed to "Preacher in charge of Pentecost Chapel. " The postmasterwent up and down the brook in high spirits, and told the boys; theyinstantly dropped shovel and pan, formed line, and escorted thepostmaster and document to the chapel. Pentecost acknowledged the joke, and stood treat for the crowd, after which he solemnly tore the wrapper, and disclosed the report of a certain missionary society. Modestlyexpressing his gratification at the honor, and his unworthiness of it, he moved that old Thompson, who had the loudest voice in the crowd, should read the report aloud, he, Pentecost, volunteering to furnishThompson all necessary spirituous aid during the continuance of histask. Thompson promptly signified his acquiescence, cleared his throatwith a glass of amber-colored liquid, and commenced, the boys meanwhilelistening attentively, and commenting critically. 

"Too much cussed heavenly twang, " observed one, disapprovingly, as oneletter largely composed of Scriptural extracts was read. 

"Why the deuce didn't he shoot?" indignantly demanded another, as a taleof escape from heathen pursuers was read. 

"Shot up wimmen in a derned dark room! Well, _I'll_ be durned!"soliloquized a yellow-haired Missourian, as Thompson read an account ofa Zenana. "Reckon they'd set an infernal sight higher by wimmen if theywuz in the diggins' six months--hey, fellers?"

"You bet!" emphatically responded a majority of those present. 

Before the boys became very restive, Thompson finished the pamphlet, including a few lines on the cover, which stated that the society wasgreatly in need of funds, and that contributions might be sent to thesociety's financial agent in Boston. Thompson gracefully concluded hisservice by passing the hat, with the following net result: Tworevolvers, one double-barreled pistol, three knives, one watch, tworings (both home-made, valuable and fearfully ugly), a pocket-inkstand, a silver tobacco-box, and forty or fifty ounces of dust and nuggets. Boston Bill, who was notoriously absent-minded, dropped in apocket-comb, but, on being sternly called to order by old Thompson, cursed himself most fluently, and redeemed his disgraceful contributionwith a gold double-eagle. "The Webfoot, " who was the most unlucky man incamp, had been so wrought upon by the tale of one missionary who hadlost his all many times in succession, sympathetically contributed hisonly shovel, for which act he was enthusiastically cursed and liberallytreated at the bar, while the shovel was promptly sold at auction to thehighest bidder, who presented it, with a staggering slap between theshoulders, to its original owner. The remaining non-legal tenders werethen converted into gold-dust, and the whole dispatched by express, witha grim note from Pentecost, to the society's treasurer at Boston. As thesociety was controlled by a denomination which does not understand howgood can come out of evil, no detail of this contribution ever appearedin print. But a few months thereafter there _did_ appear at Hanney's athin-chested, large-headed youth, with a heavily loaded mule, whoannounced himself as duly accredited by the aforementioned society topreach the Gospel among the miners. The boys received him cordially, and Pentecost offered him the nightly hospitality of curling up to sleepin front of the bar-room fireplace. His mule's load proved to consistlargely of tracts, which he vigorously distributed, and which the boysused to wrap up dust in. He nearly starved while trying to learn to cookhis own food, so some of the boys took him in and fed him. He tried topersuade the boys to stop drinking, and they good-naturedly laughed; butwhen he attempted to break up the "little game" which was the onlyamusement of the camp--the only _steady_ amusement, for fights wereshort and irregular--the camp rose in its wrath, and the young manhastily rose and went for his mule. 

But at the time of which this story treats a missionary would have faredeven worse, for the boys where wholly absorbed by a very unrighteous, but still very darling, pleasure. A pair of veteran knifeists, who hadfought each other at sight for almost ten years every time they met, hadagain found themselves in the same settlement, and Hanney's had thehonor to be that particular settlement. "Judge" Briggs, one of theheroes, had many years before discussed with his neighbor, Billy Bent, the merits of two opposing brands of mining shovels. In the course ofthe chat they drank considerable villainous whisky, and naturallyresorted to knives as final arguments. The matter might have ended here, had either gained a decided advantage over the other; but both wereskillful--each inflicted and received so near the same number of wounds, that the wisest men in camp were unable to decide which whipped. Now, toaverage Californians in the mines this is a most distressing state ofaffairs; the spectators and friends of the combatants waste a great dealof time, liquor, and blood on the subject, while the combatantsthemselves feel unspeakably uneasy on the neutral ground between victoryand defeat. At Sonora, where Billy and the Judge had their firstencounter, there was no verdict, so the Judge indignantly shook the dustfrom his feet and went elsewhere. Soon Billy happened in at the sameplace, and a set-to occurred at sight, in which the average was nodisarranged. Both men went about, for a month or two, in a patched-upcondition, and then Billy roamed off, to be soon met by the Judge withthe usual result. Both men were known by reputation all through the goldregions, and the advent of either at any "gulch, " or "washin', " was thebest advertisement the saloon-keepers could desire. In the East, hundreds of men would have tried to reason the men out of this feud, andsome few would have forcibly separated them while fighting; but in thediggings any interference in such matters is considered impertinent, anddeserving of punishment. 

[Illustration: 'THOMPSON GRACEFULLY CONCLUDED HIS SERVICE BY PASSING THEHAT. ']

Hanney's had been fairly excited for a week, for the Judge had arrivedthe week before, and his points had been carefully scrutinized andweighed, time and again, by every man in the camp. There seemed nothingunusual about him--he was of middle size, and long hair and beard, a notunpleasant expression, and very dirty clothes; he never jumped a claim, always took his whisky straight, played as fair a game of poker as theaverage of the boys, and never stole a mule from any one whiter than aMexican. The boys had just about ascertained all this, and made their"blind" bets on the result of the next fight, when the whole camp wasconvulsed with the intelligence that Billy Bent had also arrived. Workimmediately ceased, except in the immediate vicinity of the champions, and the boys stuck close to the chapel, that being the spot where theencounter should naturally take place. Miners thronged in from fiftymiles around, and nothing but a special mule express saved the camp fromthe horror of Pentecost's bar being inadequate to the demand. Between"straight bets" and "hedging" most of the gold dust in camp had been"put up, " for a bet is the only California backing of an opinion. As themen did not seem to seek each other, the boys had ample time to "grindthings down to a pint, " as the camp concisely expressed it, and thematter had given excuse for a dozen minor fights, when order wassuddenly restored one afternoon by the entrance of Billy and hisneighbors, just as the Judge and _his_ neighbors were finishing a drink. 

The boys immediately and silently formed a ring, on the outer edge ofwhich were massed all the men who had been outside, and who came pouringin like flies before a shower. No one squatted or hugged the wall, forit was understood that these two men fought only with knives, so thespectators were in a state of abject safety. 

The Judge, after settling for the drinks, turned, and saw for the firsttime his enemy. 

"Hello, Billy!" said he, pleasantly; "let's take a drink first. "

Billy, who was a red-haired man, with a snapping-turtle mouth, but not avicious-looking man for all that, briefly replied, "All right, " andthese two determined enemies clinked their glasses with the unconcern ofmere social drinkers. 

But, after this, they proceeded promptly to business; the Judge, who wasrather slow on his guard, was the owner of a badly cut arm within threeminutes by the bar-keeper's watch, but not until he had given Billy, whowas parrying a thrust, an ugly gash in his left temple. 

There was a busy hum during the adjustment of bets on "first blood, " andthe combatants very considerately refrained from doing serious injuryduring this temporary distraction; but within five minutes more they hadexchanged chest wounds, but too slight to be dangerous. 

Betting became furious--each man fought so splendidly, that the boyswere wild with delight and enthusiasm. Bets were roared back and forth, and when Pentecost, by virtue of his universally conceded authority, commanded silence, there was a great deal of finger-telegraphy acrossthe circle, and head-shaking in return. 

Such exquisite carving had never before been seen at Hanney's--that wasfreely admitted by all. Men pitied absent miners all over the State, andwondered why this delightful lingering, long-drawn-out system ofslaughter was not more popular than the brief and commonplace method ofthe revolver. The Webfoot rapturously and softly quoted the good DoctorWatt's:

 "My willing soul would stay In such a place as this, And--"

when suddenly his cup of bliss was clashed to the ground, for Billy, stumbling, fell upon his own knife, and received a severe cut in theabdomen. 

Wounds of this sort are generally fatal, and the boys had experienceenough in such matters to know it. In an instant the men who had beencalmly viewing a life-and-death conflict bestirred themselves to helpthe sufferer. Pentecost passed the bottle of brandy over the counter;half a dozen men ran to the spring for cold water; others hastily toreoff coats, and even shirts, with which to soften a bench for the woundedman. No one went for the Doctor, for that worthy had been viewing thefight professionally from the first, and had knelt beside the woundedman at exactly the right moment. After a brief examination, he gave hisopinion in the following professional style:

"No go, Billy; you're done for. "

"Good God!" exclaimed the Judge, who had watched the Doctor withbreathless interest; "ain't ther' no chance?"

"Nary, " replied the Doctor, decidedly. 

"I'm a ruined man--I'm a used-up cuss, " said the Judge, with a look ofbitter anguish. "I wish I'd gone under, too. "

"Easy, old hoss, " suggested one of the boys; "_you_ didn't do him, yerknow. "

"That's what's the matter!" roared the Judge, savagely; "nobody'll everknow which of us whipped. "

And the Judge sorrowfully took himself off, declining most resolutely todrink. 

Many hearts were full of sympathy for the Judge; but the poor fellow onthe bench seemed to need most just then. He had asked for some one whocould write, and was dictating, in whispers, a letter to some person. Then he drank some brandy, and then some water; then he freely acquittedthe Judge of having ever fought any way but fairly. But still his mindseemed burdened. Finally, in a very thin, weak voice, he stammered out:

"I don't want--to make--to make it uncomfortable--for--for any of--youfellers, but--is ther' a--a preacher in the camp?"

The boys looked at each other inquiringly; men from every calling usedto go to the mines, and no one would have been surprised if abacksliding priest, or even bishop, had stepped to the front. But noneappeared, and the wounded man, after looking despairingly from one toanother, gave a smothered cry. 

"Oh, God, hez a miserable wretch got to cut hisself open, and thenflicker out, without anybody to say a prayer for him?"

The boys looked sorrowful--if gold-dust could have bought prayers, Billywould have had a first-class assortment in an instant. 

"There's Deacon Adams over to Pattin's, " suggested a bystander; "an'they do say he's a reg'lar rip-roarer at prayin'! But 'twould take fourhours to go and fetch him. "

"Too long, " said the Doctor. 

"Down in Mexico, at the cathedral, " said another, "they pray for afeller after he's dead, when yer pay 'em fur it, an' they say it's jistthe thing--sure pop. I'll give yer my word, Billy, an' no go back, thatI'll see the job done up in style fur yer, ef that's any comfort. "

"I want to hear it myself, " groaned the sufferer; "I don't feel right;can't nobody pray--nobody in the crowd?"

Again the boys looked inquiringly at each other, but this time it was alittle shyly. If he had asked for some one to go out and steal a mule, or kill a bear, or gallop a buck-jumping mustang to 'Frisco, they wouldhave fought for the chance; but praying--praying was entirely out oftheir line. 

The silence became painful: soon slouched hats were hauled down overmoist eyes, and shirt-sleeves and bare arms seemed to find somethingunusual to attend to in the boys' faces. Big Brooks commenced to blubberaloud, and was led out by old Thompson, who wanted a chance to get outof doors so he might break down in private. Finally matters were broughtto a crisis by Mose--no one knew his other name. Mose uncovered a sandyhead, face and beard, and remarked:

"I don't want to put on airs in this here crowd, but ef nobody else kensay a word to the Lord about Billy Bent, I'm a-goin' to do it myself. It's a bizness I've never bin in, but ther's nothin' like tryin'. Thismeetin' 'll cum to order to wunst. "

"Hats off in church, gentlemen!" commanded Pentecost. 

Off came every hat, and some of the boys knelt down, as Mose kneltbeside the bench, and said:

"Oh, Lord, here's Billy Bent needs 'tendin' to! He's panned out his lastdust, an' he seems to hev a purty clear idee that this is his lastchance. He wants you to give him a lift, Lord, an' it's the opinion ofthis house thet he needs it. 'Tain't none of our bizness what he's done, an' ef it wuz, you'd know more about it than we cud tell yer; but it'smighty sartin that a cuss that's been in the digging fur years needs asight of mendin' up before he kicks the bucket. "

"That's so, " responded two or three, very emphatically. 

"Billy's down, Lord, an' no decent man b'lieves that the Lord 'ud hit aman when he's down, so there's one or two things got to be done--eitherhe's got to be let alone, or he's got to be helped. Lettin' him alonewon't do him or anybody else enny good, so helpin's the holt, an' asenny one uv us tough fellers would help ef we knew how to, it's onlyfair to suppose thet the Lord'll do it a mighty sight quicker. Now, whatBilly needs is to see the thing in thet light, an' you ken make him doit a good deal better than _we_ ken. It's, mighty little fur the Lord todo, but it's meat an' drink an' clothes to Billy just now. When we wuzboys, sum uv us read some promises ef you'rn in thet Book thet wes writa good spell ago by chaps in the Old Country, an' though Sunday-schoolteachers and preachers mixed the matter up in our minds, an' got us alltangle-footed, we know they're dar, an' you'll know what we mean. Now, Lord, Billy's jest the boy--he's a hard case, so you can't find nobetter stuff to work on--he's in a bad fix, thet we can't do nuthin'fur, so it's jest yer chance. He ain't exactly the chap to make an ANumber One Angel ef, but he ain't the man to forget a friend, so he'llbe a handy feller to hev aroun'. "

"Feel any better, Billy?" said Mose, stopping the prayer for a moment. 

"A little, " said Billy, feebly; "but you want to tell the whole yarn. I'm sorry for all the wrong I've done. "

"He's sorry for all his deviltry, Lord--"

"An' I ain't got nothin' agin the Judge, " continued the sufferer. 

"An' he don't bear no malice agin the Judge, which he shouldn't, seein'he generally gin as good as he took. An' the long an' short of it, Lord, is jest this--he's a dyin', an' he wants a chance to die with his mindeasy, an' nobody else can make it so, so we leave the whole job in yourhands, only puttin' in, fur Billy's comfort, thet we recollect hearinghow yer forgiv' a dyin' thief, an' thet it ain't likely yer a-goin' tobe harder on a chap thet's alwas paid fur what he got. Thet's the wholestory. Amen. "

Billy's hand, rapidly growing cold, reached for that of Mose, and hesaid, with considerable effort:

"Mose, yer came in ez handy as a nugget in a gone-up claim. God blessyer, Mose. I feel better inside. Ef I get through the clouds, an' hev alivin' chance to say a word to them as is the chiefs dar, thet word'llbe fur _you_, Mose. God bless yer, Mose, an' ef my blessin's no account, it can't cuss yer, ennyhow. This claim's washed out, fellers, an' heregoes the last shovelful, to see ef ther's enny gold in it er not. "

And Billy departed this life, and the boys drank to the repose of hissoul. 

THE NEW SHERIFF OF BUNKER COUNTY. 

He suited the natives exactly. What they would have done had he not beenavailable, they shuddered to contemplate. The county was so new a onethat but three men had occupied the sheriff's office before CharleyMansell was elected. Of the three, the first had not collected taxeswith proper vigor; the second was so steadily drunk that aggrievedfarmers had to take the law in their own hands regarding horse-thieves;the third was, while a terrible man on the chase or in a fight, sogood-natured and lazy at other times, that the county came to be overrunwith rascals. But Charley Mansell fulfilled every duty of his officewith promptness and thoroughness. He was not very well known, to besure, but neither was any one else among the four or five thousandinhabitants of the new county. He had arrived about a year beforeelection-day, and established himself as repairer of clocks andwatches--an occupation which was so unprofitable at Bunkerville, thecounty town, that Charley had an immense amount of leisure time at hisdisposal. He never hung about the stores or liquor-shop after dark; henever told doubtful stories, or displayed unusual ability with cards;neither did he, on the other hand, identify himself with either of theBunkerville churches, and yet every one liked him. Perhaps it wasbecause, although short, he was straight and plump, whereas the otherinhabitants were thin and bent from many discouraging tussles with ague;perhaps it was because he was always the first to see the actual meritsand demerits of any subject of conversation; perhaps it was because hewas more eloquent in defense of what he believed to be right than thevillage pastors were in defense of the holy truths to which they werecommitted; perhaps it was because he argued Squire Backett out offoreclosing a mortgage on the Widow Worth when every one else feared toapproach the squire on the subject; but, no matter what the reason was, Charley Mansell became every one's favorite, and gave no one an excuseto call him enemy. He took no interest in politics, but one day when abrutal ruffian, who had assaulted a lame native, escaped because theeasy-going sheriff was too slow in pursuing, Charley was heard toexclaim, "Oh, if I were sheriff!" The man who heard him was bothimpressionable and practical. He said that Charley's face, when he madethat remark, looked like Christ's might have looked when he was angry, but the hearer also remembered that the sheriff-incumbent's term ofoffice had nearly expired, and he quietly gathered a few leading spiritsof each political party, with the result that Charley was nominated andelected on a "fusion" ticket. When elected, Charley properly declined, on the ground that he could not file security bonds; but, within half anhour of the time the county clerk received the letter of declination, atleast a dozen of the most solid citizens of the county waited upon thesheriff-elect and volunteered to go upon his bond, so Charley becamesheriff in spite of himself. 

And he acquitted himself nobly. He arrested a murderer the very dayafter his sureties were accepted, and although Charley was by far thesmaller and paler of the two, the murderer submitted tamely, and darednot look into Charley's eye. Instead of scolding the delinquenttax-payers, the new sheriff sympathized with them, and the countytreasury filled rapidly. The self-appointed "regulators" caught ahorse-thief a week or two after Charley's installment into office, andwere about to quietly hang him, after the time-honored custom of Westernregulators, when Charley dashed into the crowd, pointed his pistol atthe head of Deacon Bent, the leader of the enraged citizens, remarkedthat _all_ sorts of murder were contrary to the law he had sworn tomaintain, and then led the thief off to jail. The regulators werespeechless with indignation for the space of five minutes--then theyhurried to the jail; and when Charley Mansell, with pale face but setteeth, again presented his pistol, they astonished him with threeroaring cheers, after which each man congratulated him on his courage. 

In short, Bunkerville became a quiet place. The new sheriff even went sofar as to arrest the disturbers of camp-meetings; yet the village boysindorsed him heartily, and would, at his command, go to jail in squadsof half a dozen with no escort but the sheriff himself. Had it not beenthat Charley occasionally went to prayer-meetings and church, not arowdy at Bunkerville could have found any fault with him. 

But not even in an out-of-the-way, malarious Missouri village, could amodel sheriff be for ever the topic of conversation. Civilization movedforward in that part of the world in very queer conveyances sometimes, and with considerable friction. Gamblers, murderers, horse-thieves, counterfeiters, and all sorts of swindlers, were numerous in lands sonear the border, and Bunkerville was not neglected by them. Neithergreenbacks nor national bank-notes were known at that time, and homeproductions, in the financial direction, being very unpopular, there wasa decided preference exhibited for the notes of Eastern banks. And nosooner would the issues of any particular bank grow very popular in theneighborhood of Bunkerville than merchants began to carefully examineevery note bearing the name of said bank, lest haply some counterfeiterhad endeavored to assist in supplying the demand. At one particular timethe suspicions had numerous and well-founded grounds; where they camefrom nobody knew, but the county was full of them, and full, too, ofwretched people who held the doubtful notes. It was the usual habit ofthe Bunkerville merchants to put the occasional counterfeits which theyreceived into the drawer with their good notes, and pass them whenunconscious of the fact; but at the time referred to the bad notes wereall on the same bank, and it was not easy work to persuade the nativesto accept even the genuine issues. The merchants sent for the sheriff, and the sheriff questioned hostlers, liquor-sellers, ferry-owners, tollgate-keepers, and other people in the habit of receiving money; butthe questions were to no effect. These people had all suffered, but atthe hands of respectable citizens, and no worse by one than by another. 

Suddenly the sheriff seemed to get some trace of the counterfeiters. Anold negro, who saw money so seldom that he accurately remembered thehistory of all the currency in his possession, had received a bad notefrom an emigrant in payment for some hams. A fortnight later, he soldsome feathers to a different emigrant, and got a note which neither thestore-keeper or liquor-seller would accept; the negro was sure the wagonand horses of the second emigrant were the same as those of the first. Then the sheriff mounted his horse and gave chase. He needed only to askthe natives along the road leading out of Bunkerville to show him anymoney they had received of late, to learn what route the wagon had takenon its second trip. 

About this time the natives of Bunkerville began to wonder whether theyoung sheriff was not more brave than prudent. He had started withoutassociates (for he had never appointed a deputy); he might have a longchase, and into counties where he was unknown, and might be dangerouslydelayed. The final decision--or the only one of any consequence--wasmade by four of the "regulators, " who decided to mount and hurry afterthe sheriff and volunteer their aid. By taking turns in riding ahead oftheir own party, these volunteers learned, at the end of the first day, that Charley could not be more than ten miles in advance. Theydetermined, therefore, to push on during the night, so long as theycould be sure they were on the right track. 

An hour more of riding brought them to a cabin where they receivedstartling intelligence. An emigrant wagon, drawn by very good horses, had driven by at a trot which was a gait previously unheard of in thecase of emigrant horses; then a young man on horseback had passed at alively gallop; a few moments later a shot had been heard in thedirection of the road the wagon had taken. Why hadn't the owner of thehouse hurried up the road to see what was the matter?--Because he mindedhis own business and staid in the house when he heard shooting, he said. 

"Come on, boys!" shouted Bill Braymer, giving his panting horse a touchwith his raw-hide whip; "perhaps, the sheriff's needin' help thisminute. An' there's generally rewards when counterfeiters arecaptured--mebbe sheriff'll give us a share. "

The whole quartet galloped rapidly off. It was growing dark, but therewas no danger of losing a road which was the only one in that part ofthe country. As they approached a clearing a short distance in front ofthem, they saw a dark mass in the centre of the road, its outlinesindicating an emigrant wagon of the usual type. 

"There they are!" shouted Bill Braymer; "but where's sheriff? Good Lord!The shot must have hit _him_!"

"Reckon it did, " said Pete Williamson, thrusting his head forward;"there's some kind of an animal hid behind that wagon, an' it don'tenjoy bein' led along, for it's kickin' mighty lively--shouldn't wonderif 'twas Mansell's own pony. "

"Hoss-thieves too, then?" inquired Braymer; "then mebbe there'll be_two_ rewards!"

"Yes, " said Williamson's younger brother, "an' mebbe we're leavin' poorCharley a-dyin' along behind us in the bushes somewhere. Who'll go backan' help hunt for him!"

The quartet unconsciously slackened speed, and the members thereof gazedrather sheepishly at each other through the gathering twilight. Atlength the younger Williamson abruptly turned, dismounted, and walkedslowly backward, peering in the bushes, and examining all indications inthe road. The other three resumed their rapid gallop, Pete Williamsonremarking:

"That boy alwus _was_ the saint of the family--look out for long shot, boys!--and if there's any money in this job, he's to have a fair shareof--that _is_ sheriff's horse, sure as shootin'--he shall have half ofwhat _I_ make out of it. How'll we take 'em, boys?--Bill right, Samleft, and me the rear? If I should get plugged, an' there's any moneyfor the crowd, I'll count on you two to see that brother Jim gets myshare--he's got more the mother in him than all four of us otherbrothers, and--why don't they shoot, do you s'pose?"

"P'r'aps ther ain't nobody but the driver, an' he's got his hands full, makin' them hosses travel along that lively, " suggested Bill Braymer. "Or mebbe he hain't got time to load. Like enough he's captured thesheriff, an' is a-takin him off. We've got to be keerful how _we_shoot. "

The men gained steadily on the wagon, and finally Bill Braymer felt sureenough to shout:

"Halt, or we'll fire!"

The only response was a sudden flash at the rear of the wagon; at thesame instant the challenger's horse fell dead. 

"_Hang_ keerfulness about firin'!" exclaimed Braymer. "_I'm_ a-goin' toblaze away. "

Another shot came from the wagon, and Williamson's horse uttered agenuine cry of anguish and stumbled. The indignant rider hastilydismounted, and exclaimed:

"It's mighty kind of 'em not to shoot _us_, but they know how to getaway all the same. "

"They know too much about shootin' for _me_ to foller 'em any more, "remarked the third man, running rapidly out of the road and in theshadow caused by a tree. 

"They can't keep up that gait for ever, " said Bill Braymer. "I'm goin'to foller 'em on foot, if it takes all night; I'll get even with em forthat hoss they've done me out of. "

"I'm with you, Bill, " remarked Pete Williamson, "an' mebbe we cansnatch _their_ hosses, just to show'em how it feels. "

The third man lifted up his voice. "I 'llow I've had enough of this herekind of thing, " said he, "an' I'll get back to the settlement whilethere's anything for me to get there on. I reckon you'll make a haul, but--I don't care--I'd rather be poor than spend a counterfeiter'smoney. "

And off he rode, just as the younger Williamson, with refreshed horse, dashed up, exclaiming:

"No signs of him back yonder, but there's blood-tracks beginnin' in themiddle of the road, an' leanin' along this way. Come on!"

And away he galloped, while his brother remarked to his companion:

"'Ef _he_ should have luck, an' get the reward, you be sure to tell himall the good things I've said about him, won't you?"

Jim Williamson rode rapidly in the direction of the wagon until, findinghimself alone, and remembering what had befallen his companions, hedismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and pursued rapidly on foot. Hesoon saw the wagon looming up in front of him again, and was puzzled toknow how to reach it and learn the truth, when the wagon turned abruptlyoff the road, and apparently into the forest. 

Following as closely as he could under cover of the timber, he foundthat, after picking its way among the trees for a mile, it stoppedbefore a small log cabin, of whose existence Jim had never known before. 

There were some groans plainly audible as Jim saw one man get out of thewagon and half carry and half drag another man into the hut. A momentlater, and a streak of light appeared under the door of the hut, andthere seemed to be no windows in the structure; if there were, they werecovered. 

Jim remained behind a sheltering tree for what seemed two hours, andthen stealthily approached the wagon. No one was in it. Then he removedhis boots and stole on tiptoe to the hut. At first he could find nochink or crevice through which to look, but finally, on one side of thelog chimney, he spied a ray of light. Approaching the hole and applyinghis eye to it, Jim beheld a picture that startled him into utterdumbness. 

On the floor of the hut, which was entirely bare, lay a middle-aged man, with one arm bandaged and bleeding. Seated on the floor, holding thehead of the wounded man, and raining kisses upon it, sat Bunker County'ssheriff!

Then Jim heard some conversation which did not in the least allay hisastonishment. 

"Don't cry, daughter, " said the wounded man, faintly, "I deserve to beshot by you--I haven't wronged any one else half so much as I have you. "

Again the wounded man received a shower of kisses, and hot tears fellrapidly upon his face. 

"Arrest me--take me back--send me to State's prison, " continued the man;"nobody has so good a right. Then I'll feel as if your mother washonestly avenged. I'll feel better if you'll promise to do it. "

"Father, dear, " said the sheriff, "I might have suspected it wasyou--oh! if I _had_ have done! But I thought--I hoped I had got awayfrom the roach of the cursed business for ever. I've enduredeverything--I've nearly died of loneliness, to avoid it, and then tothink that I should have hurt my own father. "

"You're your mother's own daughter, Nellie, " said the counterfeiter; "ittakes all the pain away to know that I haven't ruined _you_--that _some_member of my wretched family is honest. I'd be happy in a prisoner's boxif I could look at you and feel that you put me there. "

"You sha'n't be made happy in that way, " said the sheriff. I've got youagain, and I'm going to keep you to myself. I'll nurse you here--you saythat nobody ever found this hut but--but the gang, and when you'rebetter the wagon shall take us both to some place where we can live orstarve together. The county can get another sheriff easy enough. "

"And they'll suspect you of being in league with counterfeiters, " saidthe father. 

"They may suspect me of anything they like!" exclaimed the sheriff, "soyou love me and be--be your own best self and my good father. But thisbare hut--not a comfort that you need--no food--nothing--oh, if therewas only some one who had a heart, and could help us!"

"_There is_!" whispered Jim Williamson, with all his might. Bothoccupants started, and the wounded man's eyes glared like a wolf's. 

"Don't be frightened, " whispered Jim; "I'm yours, body and soul--thedevil himself would be, if he'd been standin' at this hole the last fiveminutes. I'm Jim Williamson. Let me help you miss--sheriff. "

The sheriff blew out the light, opened the door, called softly to Jim, led him into the hut, closed the door, relighted the candleand--blushed. Jim looked at the sheriff out of the top of his eyes, andthen blushed himself--then he looked at the wounded man. There was for amoment an awkward silence, which Jim broke by clearing his throatviolently, after which he said:

"Now, both of you make your minds easy. Nobody'll never find youhere--I've hunted through all these woods, but never saw _this_ cabinbefore. Arm broke?"

"No, " said the counterfeiter, "but--but it runs in the family to shootugly. "

Again the sheriff kissed the man repeatedly. 

"Then you can move in two or three days, " said Jim, "if you're takencare of rightly. Nobody'll suspect anything wrong about the sheriff, efhe don't turn up again right away. I'll go back to town, throw everybodyoff the track, and bring out a few things to make you comfortable. "

Jim looked at the sheriff again, blushed again, and started for thedoor. The wounded man sprang to his feet, and hoarsely whispered:

"Swear--ask God to send you to hell if you play false--swear byeverything you love and respect and hope for, that you won't let mydaughter be disgraced because she happened to have a rascal for herfather!"

Jim hesitated for a moment; then he seized the sheriff's hand. 

"I ain't used to swearin' except on somethin' I can see, " said he, "an'the bizness is only done in one way, " with this he kissed the littlehand in his own, and dashed out of the cabin with a very red face. 

Within ten minutes Jim met his brother and Braymer. 

"No use, boys, " said he, "might as well go back, There ain't no fearsbut what the sheriff'll be smart enough to do 'em yet, if he's alive, an' if he's dead we can't help _him_ any. "

"If he's dead, " remarked Bill Braymer, "an' there's any pay due him, Ihope part of it'll come for these horses. Mine's dead, an' Pete's mightas well be. "

"Well, " said Jim, "I'll go on to town. I want to be out early in themornin' an' see ef I can't get a deer, an' it's time I was in bed. " AndJim galloped off. 

The horse and man which might have been seen threading the woods atearly daybreak on the following morning, might have set for a picture ofone of Sherman's bummers. For a month afterward Jim's mother bemoanedthe unaccountable absence of a tin pail, a meal-bag, two or threeblankets, her only pair of scissors, and sundry other useful articles, while her sorrow was increased by the fact that she had to replenish herhousehold stores sooner than she had expected. 

The sheriff examined so eagerly the articles which Jim deposited inrapid succession on the cabin-floor, that Jim had nothing to do but lookat the sheriff, which he did industriously, though not exactly to hisheart's content. At last the sheriff looked up, and Jim saw two eyesfull of tears, and a pair of lips which parted and trembled in a mannervery unbecoming in a sheriff. 

"Don't, please, " said Jim, appealingly. "I wish I could have donebetter for _you_, but somehow I couldn't think of nothin' in the housethat was fit for a woman, except the scissors. "

"Don't think about me at all, " said the sheriff, quickly. 

"I care for nothing for myself. Forget that I'm alive. "

"I--I can't, " stammered Jim, looking as guilty as forty counterfeitersrolled into one. The sheriff turned away quickly, while the fathercalled Jim to his side. 

"Young man, " said he, "you've been as good as an angel could have been, but if you suspect _her_ a minute of being my accomplice, may heavenblast you! I taught her engraving, villain that I was, but when shefound out what the work really was, I thought she'd have died. Shebegged and begged that I'd give the business up, and I promised andpromised, but it isn't easy to get out of a crowd of your own kind, particularly when you're not so much of a man as you should be. At lastshe got sick of waiting, and ran away--then I grew desperate and worsethan ever. I've been searching everywhere for her; you don't suppose asmart--smart counterfeiter has to get rid of his money in the way I'vebeen doing, do you? I traced her to this part of the State, and I'vebeen going over the roads again and again trying to find her; but Inever saw her until she put this hole through my arm last night. "

"I hadn't any idea who you were, " interrupted the sheriff, with a faceso full of mingled indignation, pain and tenderness, that Jim couldn'tfor the life of him take his eyes from it. 

"Don't let any one suspect her, young man, " continued the father. "I'llstay within reach--deliver me up, if it should be necessary to clear_her_. "

"Trust to me, " said Jim. "I know a man when I see him, even if he _is_ awoman. "

Two days later the sheriff rode into town, leading behind him thecounterfeiter's horses, with the wagon and its contents, with thousandsof dollars in counterfeit money. The counterfeiter had escaped, hesaid, and he had wounded him. 

Bunkerville ran wild with enthusiasm, and when the sheriff insisted uponpaying out of his own pocket the value of Braymer's and Williamson'shorses, men of all parties agreed that Charley Mansell should be run forCongress on an independent ticket. 

But the sheriff declined the honor, and, declaring that he had heard ofthe serious illness of his father, insisted upon resigning and leavingthe country. Like an affectionate son, he purchased some dress-goods, which he said might please his mother, and then he departed, leaving thewhole town in sorrow. 

There was one man at Bunkerville who did not suffer so severely as hemight have done by the sheriff's departure, had not his mind been fullof strange thoughts. Pete Williamson began to regard his brother withsuspicion, and there seemed some ground for his feeling. Jim wasunnaturally quiet and abstracted; he had been a great deal with thesheriff before that official's departure, and yet did not seem to be onas free and pleasant terms with him as before. So Pete slowly gathered aconviction that the sheriff was on the track of a large reward from thebank injured by the counterfeiter; that Jim was to have a share for hisservices on the eventful night; that there was some disagreement betweenthem on the subject, and that Jim was trying the unbrotherly trick ofkeeping his luck a secret from the brother who had resolved tofraternally share anything he might have obtained by the chase. Finally, when Pete charged his brother with the unkindness alluded to, and Jimlooked dreadfully confused, Pete's suspicions were fully confirmed. 

The next morning Jim and his horse were absent, ascertaining which fact, the irate Peter started in pursuit. For several days he traced hisbrother, and finally learned that he was at a hotel on the Iowa border. The landlord said that he couldn't be seen; he, and a handsome youngfellow, with a big trunk, and a tall, thin man, and ex-Judge Bates, were busy together, and had left word they weren't to be disturbed for acouple of hours on any account. Could Pete hang about the door of theroom, so as to see him as soon as possible?--he was his brother. Well, yes; the landlord thought there wouldn't be any harm in that. 

The unscrupulous Peter put his eye to the keyhole; he saw the sheriffdaintily dressed, and as pretty a lady as ever was, in spite of hershort hair; he heard the judge say:

"By virtue of the authority in me vested by the State of Iowa, Ipronounce you man and wife;" and then, with vacant countenance, hesneaked slowly away, murmuring:

"_That's_ the sort of reward he got, is it? And, " continued Pete, aftera moment, which was apparently one of special inspiration, "I'll betthat's the kind of _deer_ he said he was goin' fur on the morning afterthe chase. "

[Illustration]

MAJOR MARTT'S FRIEND. 

East Patten was one of the quietest places in the world. Theindisposition of a family horse or cow was cause for animated generalconversation, and the displaying of a new poster or prospectus on thepost-office door was the signal for a spirited gathering of citizens. 

Why, therefore, Major Martt had spent the whole of three successiveleaves-of-absence at East Patten, where he hadn't a relative, and whereno other soldier lived, no one could imagine. Even professionalnewsmakers never assigned any reason for it, for although their vigorousand experienced imaginations were fully capable of forming someplausible theory on the subject of the major's fondness for East Patten, they shrank from making public the results of any such labors. 

It was perfectly safe to circulate some purely original story about anyordinary citizen, but there was no knowing how a military man mighttreat such a matter when it reached his ears, as it was morally sure todo. 

Live military men had not been seen in East Patten since theRevolutionary War, three-quarters of a century before the villagersfirst saw Major Martt; and such soldiers as had been revealed to EastPatten through the medium of print were as dangerously touchy as thehair-triggers of their favorite weapons. 

So East Patten let the major's private affairs alone, and was reallyglad to see the major in person. There was a scarcity of men at EastPatten--of interesting men, at least, for the undoubted sanctity ofthe old men lent no special graces to their features or manners; whilethe young men were merely the residuum of an active emigration which hadfor some years been setting westward from East Patten. 

[Illustration: EAST PATTEN WAS ONE OF THE QUIETEST PLACES IN THE WORLD. ]

When, therefore, the tall, straight, broad-shouldered, clear-eyed, much-whiskered major appeared on the street, looking (as he always did)as if he had just been shaved, brushed and polished, the sight was anextremely pleasing one, except to certain young men who feared for thevalidity of their titles to their respective sweethearts should themajor chance to be affectionate. 

But the major gave no cause for complaint. When he first came to thevillage he bought Rose Cottage, opposite the splendid Wittledayproperty, and he spent most of his time (his leave-of-absence alwaysoccurring in the Summer season) in his garden, trimming his shrubs, nursing his flowering-plants, growing magnificent roses, and in all waysacting utterly unlike a man of blood. Occasionally he played a game ofchess with Parson Fisher, the jolly ex-clergyman, or smoked a pipe withthe sadler-postmaster; he attended all the East Patten tea-parties, too, but he made himself so uniformly agreeable to all the ladies that themothers in Israel agreed with many sighs, that the major was not amarrying man. 

It may easily be imagined, then, that when one Summer the majorreappeared at East Patten with a brother officer who was young andreasonably good-looking, the major's popularity did not diminish. 

The young man was introduced as Lieutenant Doyson, who had once savedthe major's life by a lucky shot, as that chieftain, with empty pistols, was trying to escape from a well-mounted Indian; and all the youngladies in town declared they _knew_ the lieutenant _must_ have donesomething wonderful, he was _so_ splendid. 

But, with that fickleness which seems in some way communicable fromwicked cities to virtuous villages, East Patten suddenly ceased toexhibit unusual interest in the pair of warriors, for a new excitementhad convulsed the village mind to its very centre. 

It was whispered that Mrs. Wittleday, the sole and widowed owner of thegreat Wittleday property, had wearied of the mourning she wore for thehusband she had buried two years previously, and that she would soonpublicly announce the fact by laying aside her weeds and giving a greatentertainment, to which every one was to be invited. 

There was considerable high-toned deprecation of so early a cessation ofMrs. Wittleday's sorrowing, she being still young and handsome, andthere was some fault found on the economic ground that the widowcouldn't yet have half worn out her mourning-garments; but as to thepropriety of her giving an entertainment, the voices of East Patten wereas one in the affirmative. 

Such of the villagers as had chanced to sit at meat with the late ScottWittleday, had reported that dishes with unremembered foreign names wereas plenty as were the plainer viands on the tables of the oldinhabitants; such East Pattenites as had not been entertained at theWittleday board rejoiced in a prospect of believing by sight as well asby faith. 

The report proved to have unusually good foundation. Within a fortnighteach respectable householder received a note intimating that Mrs. Wittleday would be pleased to see self and family on the evening of thefollowing Thursday. 

The time was short, and the resources of the single store at East Pattenwere limited, but the natives did their best, and the eventful eveningbrought to Mrs. Wittleday's handsome parlors a few gentlemen and ladies, and a large number of good people, who, with all the heroism of aforlorn hope, were doing their best to appear at ease and happy. 

The major and lieutenant were there, of course, and both in uniform, byspecial request of the hostess. The major, who had met Mrs. Wittleday incity society before her husband's death, and who had maintained abowing-acquaintance with her during her widowhood, gravely presented thelieutenant to Mrs. Wittleday, made a gallant speech about the debtsociety owed to her for again condescending to smile upon it, and thenpresented his respects to the nearest of the several groups of ladieswho were gazing invitingly at him. 

Then he summoned the lieutenant (whose reluctance to leave Mrs. Wittleday's side was rendered no less by a bright smile which that ladygave him as he departed), and made him acquainted with ladies of allages, and of greatly varying personal appearance. The young warrior wentthrough the ordeal with only tolerable composure, and improved his firstopportunity to escape and regain the society of the hostess. Two orthree moments later, just as Mrs. Wittleday turned aside to speak tostately old Judge Bray, the lieutenant found himself being led rapidlytoward the veranda. The company had not yet found its way out of theparlors to any extent, so the major locked the lieutenant's arm in hisown, commenced a gentle promenade, and remarked:

"Fred, my boy, you're making an ass of yourself. "

"Oh, nonsense, major, " answered the young man, with considerableimpatience. "I don't want to know all these queer, old-fashioned people;they're worse than a lot of plebes at West Point. "

"I don't mean that, Fred, though, if you don't want to make talk, youmust make yourself agreeable. But you're too attentive to Mrs. Wittleday. "

"By George, " responded the lieutenant, eagerly, "how can I help it?She's divine!"

"A great many others think so, too, Fred--I do myself--but they don'tmake it so plagued evident on short acquaintance. Behave yourself, now--your eyesight is good--sit down and play the agreeable to some oldlady, and look at Mrs. Wittleday across the room, as often as you like. "

The lieutenant was young; his face was not under good control, and hehad no whiskers, and very little mustache to hide it, so, although heobeyed the order of his superior, it was with a visage so mournful thatthe major imagined, when once or twice he caught Mrs. Wittleday's eye, that that handsome lady was suffering from restrained laughter. 

Humorous as the affair had seemed to the major before, he could notendure to have his preserver's sorrow the cause of merriment in any oneelse; so, deputing Parson Fisher to make their excuse to the hostesswhen it became possible to penetrate the crowd which had slowlysurrounded her, the major took his friend's arm and returned to thecottage. 

"Major!" exclaimed the subaltern, "I--I half wish I'd let that Indiancatch you; then you wouldn't have spoiled the pleasantest evening I everhad--ever _began_ to have, I should say. "

"You wouldn't have had an evening at East Patten then, Fred, " said themajor, with a laugh, as he passed the cigars, and lit one himself. "Seriously, my boy, you must be more careful. You came here to spend apleasant three months with me, and the first time you're in society youact, to a lady you never saw before, too, in such a way, that if it hadbeen any one but a lady of experience, she would have imagined you inlove with her. "

"I _am_ in love with her, " declared the young man, with a look which wasintended to be defiant, but which was noticeably shamedfaced. "I'm goingto tell her so, too--that is, I'm going to write her about it. "

"Steady, Fred--steady!" urged the major, kindly. "She'd be more provokedthan pleased. Don't you suppose fifty men have worshiped her at firstsight? They have, and she knows it, too--but it hasn't troubled her mindat all: handsome women know they turn men's heads in that way, and theygenerally respect the men who are sensible enough to hold their tonguesabout it, at least until there's acquaintance enough between them tojustify a little confidence. "

"Major, " said poor Fred, very meekly, almost piteously, "don't--don'tyou suppose I _could_ make her care something for me?"

The major looked thoughtfully, and then tenderly, at the cigar he heldbetween his fingers. Finally he said, very gently:

"My dear boy, perhaps you could. Would it be fair, though? Love inearnest means marriage. Would you torment a poor woman, who's lost onehusband, into wondering three-quarters of the time whether the scalp ofanother isn't in the hands of some villainous Apache?"

The unhappy lieutenant hid his face in heavy clouds of tobacco smoke. 

"Well, " said he, springing to his feet, and pacing the floor like acaged animal, "I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll write her, and throw myheart at her feet. Of course she won't care. It's just as you say. Whyshould she? But I'll do it, and then I'll go back to the regiment. Ihate to spoil _your_ fun, major, if it's any fun to you to have such afool in your quarters; but the fact is, the enemy's too much for me. Iwouldn't feel worse if I was facing a division. I'll write her tomorrow. I'd rather be refused by her than loved by any other woman. "

"Put it off a fortnight, Fred, " suggested the major; "it's the politething to call within a week after this party; you'll have a chance thento become better acquainted with her. She's delightful company, I'mtold. Perhaps you'll make up your mind it's better to enjoy her society, during our leave, than to throw away everything in a forlorn hope. Waita fortnight, that's a sensible youth. "

"I can't, major!" cried the excited boy. "Hang it! you're an oldsoldier--don't you know how infernally uncomfortable it is to standstill and be shot at?"

"I _do_, my boy, " said the major, with considerable emphasis, and afar-away look at nothing in particular. 

"Well, that'll be my fix as long as I stay here and keep quiet, " repliedthe lieutenant. 

"Wait a week, then, " persisted the major. "You don't want to be 'guiltyof conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, ' eh? Don't spoil herfirst remembrances of the first freedom she's known for a couple ofyears. "

"Well, call it a week, then, " moodily replied the love-sick brave, lighting a candle, and moving toward his room. "I suppose it will takeme a week, anyway, to make up a letter fit to send to such an angel. "

The major sighed, put on an easy coat and slippers, and stepped into hisgarden. 

"Poor Fred!" he muttered to himself, as he paced the walk in front ofthe piazza; "can't wait a fortnight, eh? Wonder what he would say if heknew I'd been waiting for seven or eight years--if he knew I fell inlove with her as easily as he did, and that I've never recovered myself?Wonder what he'd do if some one were to marry her almost before his veryeyes, as poor Wittleday did while I was longing for her acquaintance?Wonder what sort of fool he'd call me if he knew that I came to EastPatten, time after time, just for a chance of looking at her--that Ibought Rose Cottage merely to be near her--that I'd kept it all tomyself, and for a couple of years had felt younger at the thought that Imight, perchance, win her after all? Poor Fred! And yet, why shouldn'tshe marry him?--women have done stranger things; and he's a great dealmore attractive-looking than an old campaigner like myself. Well, Godbless 'em both, and have mercy on an old coward!"

The major looked toward the Wittleday mansion. The door was open; thelast guests were evidently departing, and their beautiful entertainerwas standing in the doorway, a flood of light throwing into perfectrelief her graceful and tastefully dressed figure. She said somethinglaughingly to the departing guests; it seemed exquisite music to themajor. Then the door closed, and the major, with a groan, retired withinhis own door, and sorrowfully consumed many cigars. 

The week that followed was a very dismal one to the major. He petted hisgarden as usual, and whistled softly to himself, as was his constanthabit, but he insanely pinched the buds off the flowering plants, andhis whistling--sometimes plaintive, sometimes hopeless, sometimeswrathful, sometimes vindictive in expression--was restricted to theexecution of dead-marches alone. He jeopardized his queen so often atchess that Parson Fisher deemed it only honorable to call the major'sattention to his misplays, and to allow him to correct them. 

The saddler post-master noticed that the major--usually a mostaccomplished smoker--now consumed a great many matches in relightingeach pipe that he filled. Only once during the week did he chance tomeet Mrs. Wittleday, and then the look which accompanied his bow andraised hat was so solemn, that his fair neighbor was unusually soberherself for a few moments, while she wondered whether she could in anyway have given the major offense. 

As for the lieutenant, he sat at the major's desk for many sorrowfulhours each day, the general result being a large number of closelywritten and finely torn scraps in the waste-basket. Then coatless, collarless, with open vest and hair disarranged in the mannertraditional among love-sick youths, he would pour mournful airs from aflute. 

The major complained--rather frequently for a man who had spent years onthe Plains--of drafts from the front windows, which windows he finallykept closed most of the time, thus saving Mrs. Wittleday the annoyancewhich would certainly have resulted from the noise made by the earnestbut unskilled amateur. 

For the major himself, however, neither windows nor doors could affordrelief; and when, one day, the sergeant accidentally overturned a heavytable, which fell upon the flute and crushed it, the major enjoyed theonly happy moments that were his during the week. 

The week drew very near its close. The major had, with a heavy butdesperate heart, told stories, sung songs, brought up tactical pointsfor discussion--he even waxed enthusiastic in favor of a run throughEurope, he, of course, to bear all the expenses; but the subalternremained faithful and obdurate. 

Finally, the morning of the last day arrived, and the lieutenant, to themajor's surprise and delight, appeared at the table with a very resignedair. 

"Major, " said he, "I wouldn't mention it under any other circumstances, but--I saved your life once?"

"You did, my boy. God bless you!" responded the major, promptly. 

"Well, now I want to ask a favor on the strength of that act. I'll neverask another. It's no use for me to try to write to her--the harder I trythe more contemptible my words appear. Now, what I ask, is this: _you_write me a rough draft of what's fit to send to such an incomparablebeing, and I'll copy it and send it over. I don't expect any answer--allI want to do is to throw myself away on her, but I want to do ithandsomely, and--hang it, I don't know how. Write just as if you weredoing it for yourself. Will you do it?"

The major tried to wash his heart out of his throat with a sip ofcoffee, and succeeded but partially; yet the appealing look of hisfavorite, added to the unconscious pathos of his tone, restored to himhis self-command, and he replied:

"I'll do it, Fred, right away. "

"Don't spoil your breakfast for it; any time this morning will do, " saidthe lieutenant, as the major arose from the table. But the veteranneeded an excuse for leaving his breakfast untouched, and he ratherabruptly stepped upon, the piazza and indulged in a thoughtfulpromenade. 

"Write just as if you were doing it for yourself. "

The young man's words rang constantly in his ears, and before the majorhad thought many moments, he determined to do exactly what he was askedto do. 

This silly performance of the lieutenant's would, of course, put an endto the acquaintanceship of the major and Mrs. Wittleday, unless thatlady were most unusually gracious. Why should he not say to her, overthe subaltern's name, all that he had for years been hoping for anopportunity to say? No matter that she would not imagine who was thereal author of the letter--it would still be an unspeakable comfort towrite the words and know that her eyes would read them--that her heartwould perhaps--probably, in fact--pity the writer. 

The major seated himself, wrote, erased, interlined, rewrote, andfinally handed to the lieutenant a sheet of letter-paper, of whichnearly a page was covered with the major's very characteristicchirography. 

"By gracious, major!" exclaimed the lieutenant, his face havinglightened perceptibly during the perusal of the letter, "that'smagnificent! I declare, it puts hope into me; and yet, confound it, it'splaguy like marching under some one else's colors. "

"Never mind, my boy, copy it, sign it, and send it over, and don't hopetoo much. "

The romantic young brave copied the letter carefully, line for line; hespoilt several envelopes in addressing one to suit him, and thendispatched the missive by the major's servant, laying the rough draftaway for future (and probably sorrowful) perusal. 

The morning hours lagged dreadfully. Both warriors smoked innumerablecigars, but only to find fault with the flavor thereof. 

The lieutenant tried to keep his heart up by relating two or threestories, at the points of each of which the major forced a boisterouslaugh, but the mirth upon both sides was visibly hollow. Dinner was setat noon, the usual military dinner-hour, but little was consumed, excepta bottle of claret, which the major, who seldom drank, seemed toconsider it advisable to produce. 

The after-dinner cigar lasted only until one o'clock; newspapers by thenoon-day mail occupied their time for but a scant hour more, and anattempted game of cribbage speedily dropped by unspoken but mutualconsent. 

Suddenly the garden gate creaked. The lieutenant sprang to his feet, looked out of the window, and exclaimed:

"It's her darkey--he's got an answer--oh, major!"

"Steady, boy, steady!" said the major, arising hastily and laying hishand on the young man's shoulder, as that excited person was hasteningto the door. "'Officer and gentleman, ' you know. Let Sam open the door. "

The bell rang, the door was opened, a word or two passed between the twoservants, and Mrs. Wittleday's coachman appeared in the dining-room, holding the letter. The lieutenant eagerly reached for it, but the sablecarrier grinned politely, said:

"It's for de major, sar--wuz told to give it right into his han's, andnobody else, " fulfilled his instructions, and departed with many bowsand smiles, while the two soldiers dropped into their respective chairs. 

"Hurry up, major--do, please, " whispered the lieutenant. But the veteranseemed an interminably long time in opening the dainty envelope in hishand. Official communications he opened with a dexterity suggestingsleight-of-hand, but now he took a penknife from his pocket, opened itssmallest, brightest blade, and carefully cut Mrs. Wittleday's envelope. As he opened the letter his lower jaw fell, and his eyes opened wide. Heread the letter through, and re-read it, his countenance indicatingconsiderable satisfaction, which presently was lost in an expression ofpuzzled wonder. 

"Fred, " said he to the miserable lieutenant, who started to his feet asa prisoner expecting a severe sentence might do, "what in creation didyou write Mrs. Wittleday?"

"Just what you gave me to write, " replied the young man, evidentlyastonished. 

"Let me see my draft of it, " said the major. 

The lieutenant opened a drawer in the major's desk, took out a sheet ofpaper, looked at it, and cried:

"I sent her your draft! _This_ is my letter!"

"And she imagined _I_ wrote it, and has accepted _me_!" gasped themajor. 

The wretched Frederick turned pale, and tottered toward a chair. Themajor went over to him and spoke to him sympathizingly, but despite hisgenial sorrow for the poor boy, the major's heart was so full that hedid not dare to show his face for a moment; so he stood behind thelieutenant, and looked across his own shoulder out of the window. 

"Oh, major, " exclaimed Fred, "isn't it possible that you're mistaken?"

"Here's her letter, my boy, " said the major; "judge for yourself. "

The young man took the letter in a mechanical sort of way, and read asfollows:

"_July_ 23d, 185--. 

"DEAR MAJOR--I duly received your note of this morning, and you maythank womanly curiosity for my knowing from whom the missive (which youomitted to sign) came. I was accidentally looking out of my window, andrecognized the messenger. 

"I have made it an inflexible rule to laugh at declarations of 'love atfirst sight, ' but when I remembered how long ago it was when first wemet, the steadfastness of your regard, proved to me by a new fancy(which I pray you not to crush) that your astonishing fondness for EastPatten was partly on my account, forbade my indulging in any lightersentiment than that of honest gratitude. 

"You may call this evening for your answer, which I suppose you, withthe ready conceit of your sex and profession, will have alreadyanticipated. 

"Yours, very truly, HELEN WITTLEDAY. "

The lieutenant groaned. 

"It's all up, major! you'll _have_ to marry her. 'Twould be awfullyungentlemanly to let her know there was any mistake. "

"Do you think so, Fred?" asked the major, with a perceptible twitch atthe corners of his mouth. 

"Certainly, I do, " replied the sorrowful lover; "and I'm sure you canlearn to love her; she is simply an angel--a goddess. Confound it! youcan't help loving her. "

"You really believe so, do you, my boy?" asked the major, with fatherlygravity. "But how would _you_ feel about it?"

"As if no one else on earth was good enough for her--as if she was theluckiest woman alive, " quickly answered the young man, with a great dealof his natural spirit. "'Twould heal _my_ wound entirely. "

"Very well, my boy, " said the major; "I'll put you out of your misery assoon as possible. "

 * * * * *

Never had the major known an evening whose twilight was of suchinterminable duration. When, however, the darkness was sufficient toconceal his face, he walked quickly across the street, and to the doorof the Wittleday mansion. 

That his answer was what he supposed it would be is evinced by the factthat, a few months later, his resignation was accepted by theDepartment, and Mrs. Wittleday became Mrs. Martt. 

In so strategic a manner that she never suspected the truth, the majortold his _fiancee_ the story of the lieutenant's unfortunate love, andso great was the fair widow's sympathy, that she set herself the task ofseeing the young man happily engaged. This done, she offered him theposition of engineer of some mining work on her husband's estate, andthe major promised him Rose Cottage for a permanent residence as soon ashe would find a mistress for it. 

Naturally, the young man succombed to the influences exerted againsthim, and, after Mr. And Mrs. Doyson were fairly settled, the major toldhis own wife, to her intense amusement, the history of the letter whichinduced her to change her name. 

BUFFLE. 

How he came by his name, no one could tell. In the early days of thegold fever there came to California a great many men who did notvolunteer their names, and as those about them had been equally reticenton their own advent, they asked few questions of newcomers. 

The hotels of the mining regions never kept registers for theaccommodation of guests--they were considered well-appointed hotels ifthey kept water-tight roofs and well-stocked bars. 

Newcomers were usually designated at first by some peculiarity ofphysiognomy or dress, and were known by such names as "Broken Nose, ""Pink Shirt, " "Cross Bars, " "Gone Ears, " etc. ; if, afterward, any mandeveloped some peculiarity of character, an observing and original minerwould coin and apply a new name, which would afterward be accepted asirrevocably as a name conferred by the holy rite of baptism. 

No one wondered that Buffle never divulged his real name, or talked ofhis past life; for in the mines he had such an unhappy faculty ofwinning at cards, getting new horses without visible bills of sale, taking drinks beyond ordinary power of computation, stabbing andshooting, that it was only reasonable to suppose that he had acquiredthese abilities at the sacrifice of the peace of some other community. 

He was not vicious--even a strict theologian could hardly have accusedhim of malice; yet, wherever he went, he was promptly acknowledgedchief of that peculiar class which renders law and sheriffs necessaryevils. 

He was not exactly a beauty--miners seldom were--yet a connoisseur inmanliness could have justly wished there were a dash of the Buffle bloodin the well-regulated veins of many irreproachable characters in quieterneighborhoods than Fat Pocket Gulch, where the scene of this story waslocated. 

He was tall, active, prompt and generous, and only those who have thesequalities superadded to their own virtues are worthy to throw stones athis memory. 

He was brave, too. His bravery had been frequently recorded in lead inthe mining regions, and such records were transmitted from place toplace with an alacrity which put official zeal to the deepest blush. 

At the fashionable hour of two o'clock at night, Mr. Buffle wasentertaining some friends at his residence; or, to use the language ofthe mines, "there was a game up to Buffle's. " In a shanty of thecomposite order of architecture--it having a foundation of stone, succeeded by logs, a gable of coffin misfits and cracker-boxes, and aroof of bark and canvas--Buffle and three other miners were playing "oldsledge. "

The table was an empty pork-barrel; the seats were respectively, a blockof wood, a stone, and a raisin-box, with a well-stuffed knapsack for thetallest man. 

On one side of the shanty was a low platform of hewn logs, whichconstituted the proprietor's couch when he slept; on another was thedoor, on the third were confusedly piled Buffle's culinary utensils, andon the fourth was a fireplace, whose defective draft had been the agentof the fine frescoing of soot perceptible on the ceiling. A singlecandle hung on a wire over the barrel, and afforded light auxiliary tothat thrown out by the fireplace. 

The game had been going largely in Buffle's favor, as was usually thecase, when one of the opposition injudiciously played an ace which wasclearly from another pack of cards, inasmuch as Buffle, who haddealt, had the rightful ace in his own hand. As it was the ace oftrumps, Buffle's indignation arose, and so did his person and pistol. 

[Illustration: "COME IN, " ROARED BUFFLES'S PARTNER. "COME IN, HANG YER, IF YER LIFE'S INSURED!' THE DOOR OPENED SLOWLY, AND A WOMAN ENTERED. ]

"Hang yer, " said he, savagely; "yer don't come that game on me. I've gotthat ace myself. "

An ordinary man would have drawn pistol also, but Buffle's antagonistknew his only safety lay in keeping quiet, so he only stared vacantly atthe muzzle of the revolver, that was so precisely aimed at his own head. 

The two other players had risen to their feet, and were mentallycomposing epitaphs for the victim, when there was heard a decided knockon the door. 

"Come in!" roared Buffle's partner, who was naturally the least excitedof the four. "Come in, hang yer, if yer life's insured. "

The door opened slowly, and a woman entered. 

Now, while there were but few women in the camp, the sight of a singlewoman was not at all unusual. Yet, as she raised her vail, Buffle'srevolver fell from his hands, and the other players laid down theircards; the partner of the guilty man being so overcome as to lay downhis hand face upward. 

Then they all stared, but not one of them spoke; they wanted to, butnone knew how to do it. It was not usually difficult for any of them toaddress such specimens of the gentler sex as found their way to FatPocket Gulch, but they all understood at once that this was a differentsort of woman. They looked reprovingly and beseechingly at each other, but the woman, at last, broke the silence by saying:

"I am sorry to disturb you, gentlemen, but I was told I could probablyfind Mr. Buffle here. "

"Here he is, ma'am, and yours truly, " said Buffle, removing his hat. 

He could afford to. She was not beautiful, but she seemed to be introuble, and a troubled woman can command, to the death, even worse menthan free-and-easy miners. She had a refined, pure face, out of whichtwo great brown eyes looked so tenderly and anxiously, that these menforgot themselves at once. She seemed young, not more than twenty-threeor four; she was slightly built, and dressed in a suit of plain black. 

"Mr. Buffle, " said she, "I was going through by stage to San Francisco, when I overheard the driver say to a man seated by him that you knewmore miners than any man in California--that you had been through thewhole mining country. "

"Well, mum, " said Buffle, with a delighted but sheepish look, whichwould have become a missionary complimented on the number of converts hehad made, "I _hev_ been around a good deal, that's a fact. I reckon I'vestaked a claim purty much ev'rywhar in the diggins. "

"So I inferred from what the driver said, " she replied, "and I came downhere to ask you a question. "

Here she looked uneasily at the other players. The man who stole the acetranslated it at once, and said:

"We'll git out ef yer say so, mum; but yer needn't be afraid to sayennything before us. We know a lady when we see her, an' mebbe some onus ken give yer a lift; if we can't, I've only got to say thet ef yerlet out enny secrets, grizzlies couldn't tear 'em out uv enny man inthis crowd. Hey, fellers?"

"You bet, " was the firm response of the remaining two, and Bufflequickly passed a demijohn, to the ace-thief, as a sign of forgivenessand approbation. 

"Thank you, gentlemen--God bless you, " said the woman, earnestly. "Mystory is soon told. I am looking for my husband, and I _must_ find him. His name is Allan Berryn. "

Buffle gazed thoughtfully in the fire, and remarked:

"Names ain't much good in this country, mum--no man kerriesvisitin'-cards, an' mighty few gits letters. Besides, lots comes here'cos they're wanted elsewhere, an' they take names that ain't much likewhat their mothers giv 'em. Mebbe you could tell us somethin' else toput us on the trail of him?"

"Hez he got both of his eyes an' ears, mum?" inquired one of the men. 

"Uv course he hez, you fool!" replied Buffle, savagely. "The lady'shusband's a gentleman, an' 'tain't likely he's, been chawed or gouged. "

"I ax parding, mum, " said the offender, in the most abject manner. 

"He is of medium height, slightly built, has brown hair and eyes, andwears a plain gold ring on the third finger of his left hand, " continuedMrs. Berryn. 

"Got all his front teeth, mum?" asked the man Buffle had rebuked; thenhe turned quickly to Buffle, who was frowning suspiciously, and said, appeasingly, "Yer know, Buffle, that bein' a gentleman don't keep afeller from losin' his teeth in the nateral course of things. "

"He had all his front teeth a few months ago, " replied Mrs. Berryn. "Ido not know how to describe him further--he had no scars, moles, orother peculiarities which might identify him, except, " she continued, with a faint blush--a wife's blush, which strongly tempted Buffle tokneel and kiss the ground she stood on--"except a locket I once gavehim, with my portrait, and which he always wore over his heart. I can'tbelieve he would take it off, " said she, with a sob that was followed bya flood of tears. 

The men twisted on their seats, and showed every sign of uneasiness; onestepped outside to cough, another suddenly attacked the fire and pokedit savagely, Buffle impolitely turned his back to the company, while thefourth man lost himself in the contemplation of the king of spades, which card ever afterward showed in its centre a blotch which seemed theresult of a drop of water. Finally Buffle broke the silence by saying:

"I'd give my last ounce, and my shootin'-iron besides, mum, ef I couldput yer on his trail; but I can't remember no such man; ken you, fellers?"

Three melancholy nods replied in the negative. 

"I am very much obliged to you, gentlemen, " said Mrs. Berryn. "I willgo back to the crossing and take the next stage. Perhaps, Mr. Buffle, ifI send you my address when I reach San Francisco, you will let me knowif you ever find any traces of him?"

"Depend upon all of us for that, mum, " replied Buffle. 

"Thank you, " said she, and departed as suddenly as she had entered, leaving the men staring stupidly at each other. 

"Wonder how she got here from the crossin'?" finally remarked one. 

"Ef she came alone, she's got a black ride back, " said another. "It'snigh onto fourteen miles to that crossin'. "

"An' she orten't to be travelin' at all, " said little Muggy, thesmallest man of the party. "I'm a family man--or I wuz once--an' I tellyer she ort to be where she ken keep quiet, an' wait for what's comin'soon. "

The men glanced at each other significantly, but without any of thelevity which usually follows such an announcement in more culturedcircles. 

"This game's up, boys, " said Buffle, rising suddenly. "The stage don'treach the crossin' till noon, an' she is goin' to hev this shanty tostay in till daylight, anyhow. You fellers had better git, right away. "

Saying which, Buffle hurried out to look for Mrs. Berryn. He soonovertook her, and awkwardly said:

"Mum!"

She stopped. 

"Yer don't need to start till after daylight to reach that stage, mum, an' you'd better come back and rest yerself in my shanty till mornin'. "

"I am very much obliged, sir, " she replied, "but--"

"Don't be afeard, mum, " said Buffle, hastily. "We're rough, but a lady'sas safe here as she'd be among her family. Ye'll have the cabin all toyerself, an' I'll leave a revolver with yer to make yer feel better. "

"You are very kind, sir, but--it will take me some time to get back. "

"Horse lame, p'r'aps?"

"No, sir; the truth is, I walked. "

"Good God!" ejaculated Buffle; "I'll kill any scoundrel of astation-agent that'll let a woman take such a walk as this. I'll takeyou back on a good horse before noon to-morrow, and I'll put a holethrough that rascal right before your eyes, mum. "

Mrs. Berryn shuddered, at sight of which Buffle mentally consigned hiseyes to a locality boasting a superheated atmosphere, for talking soroughly to a lady. 

"Don't harm him, Mr. Buffle, " said she. "He knew nothing about it. Iasked him the road to Fat Pocket Gulch, and he pointed it out. He didnot know but what I had a horse or a carriage. Unfortunately, the stagewas robbed the day before yesterday, and all my money was taken, or Ishould not have walked here, I assure you. My passage is paid to SanFrancisco, and the driver told me that if I wished to come down here, the next stage would take me through to San Francisco. When I get there, I can soon obtain money from the East. "

"Madame, " said Buffle, unconsciously taking off his hat, "any ladythat'll make that walk by dark is clear gold all the way down tobed-rock. Ef yer husband's in California, I'll find him fur yer, inspite of man or devil--_I_ will, an' I'll be on the trail in half anhour. An' you'd better stay here till I come back, or send yer word. Idon't want to brag, but thar ain't a man in the Gulch that'll daremolest anythin' aroun' _my_ shanty, an' as thar's plenty of pervisionsthar--plain, but good--yer can't suffer. The spring is close by, an'you'll allers find firewood by the door. An' ef yer want help aboutanythin', ask the fust man yer see, and say I told yer to. "

Mrs. Berryn looked earnestly into his face for a moment, and thentrusted him. 

"Mr. Buffle, " she said, "he is the best man that ever lived. But we wereboth proud, and we quarrelled, and he left me in anger. I accidentallyheard he was in California, through an acquaintance who saw him leaveNew York on the California steamer. If you see him, tell him I waswrong, and that I will die if he does not come back. Tell him--tellhim--that. "

"Never mind, mum, " said Buffle, leading her hastily toward the shanty, and talking with unusual rapidity. "I'll bring him back all right ef Ifind him; an' find him I will, ef he's on top of the ground. "

They entered the cabin, and Buffle was rather astonished at theappearance of his own home. The men were gone, but on the bare logs, where Buffle usually reposed, they had spread their coats neatly, andcovered them with a blanket which little Muggy usually wore. 

The cards had disappeared, and in their place lay a very small fragmentof looking-glass; the demijohn stood in its accustomed place, butagainst it leaned a large chip, on which was scrawled, in charcoal, theword _Worter_. 

"Good, " said Buffle, approvingly. "Now, mum, keep up yer heart. I tellyer I'll fetch him, an' any man at the Gulch ken tell yer thet lyin'ain't my gait. "

Buffle slammed the door, called at two or three other shanties, and gaveorders in a style befitting a feudal lord, and in ten minutes was onhorseback, galloping furiously out on the trail to Green Flat. 

The Green Flatites wondered at finding the great man among them, andtreated him with the most painful civility. As he neither hung about thesaloon, "got up" a game, nor provoked a horse-trade, it was immediatelysurmised that he was looking for some one, and each man searchinglyquestioned his trembling memory whether he had ever done Buffle aninjury. 

All preserved a respectful silence as Buffle walked from claim to claim, carefully scrutinizing many, and all breathed freer as they saw him andhis horse disappear over the hill on the Sonora trail. 

At Sonora he considered it wise to stay over Sunday--not to enjoyreligious privileges, but because on Sunday sinners from all parts ofthe country round flocked into Sonora, to commune with the spirits, infernal rather than celestial, gathered there. 

He made the tour of all the saloons, dashed eagerly at two or three men, with plain gold rings on left fore-fingers, disgustedly found them thewrong men beyond doubt, cursed them, and invited them to drink. Then heclosely catechised all the barkeepers, who were the only reliabledirectories in that country; they were anxious to oblige him, but nonecould remember such a man. So Buffle took his horse, and sought his manelsewhere. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Berryn remained in camp, where she was cared for in amanner which called out her astonishment equally with her gratitude. Buffle was hardly well out of the Gulch when Mrs. Berryn heard a knockat the door; she opened it, and a man handed her a frying-pan, with theremark, "Buffle is cracked, " and hastily disappeared. 

In the morning she was awakened by a crash outside the door, and, onlooking out, discovered a quantity of firewood ready cut; each morningthereafter found in the same place a fresh supply, which was usuallydecorated with offerings of different degrees of appropriateness--piecesof fresh meat, strings of dried ditto, blankets enough for a largehotel, little packages of gold dust, case knives and forks, cans of saltbutter, and all sorts of provisions, in quantity. 

Each man in camp fondly believed his own particular revolver was betterthan any other, and, as a natural consequence, the camp became almostpeaceful, by reason of the number of pistols that were left in front ofMrs. Berryn's door. But she carefully left them alone, and when this wasdiscovered the boys sorrowfully removed them. 

Then old Griff, living up the Gulch, with a horrible bulldog forcompanion, brought his darling animal down late one dark night, and tiedhim near the lady's residence, where he discoursed sweet sounds for twohours, until, to Mrs. Berryn's delight, he broke his chain, and returnedto his old home. 

Then Sandytop, the ace-thief, suddenly left camp. Many were thesurmises and bets on the subject; and on the third day, when two men, one of whom believed he had gone to steal a mule, and the other believedhe had rolled into the creek while drunk, were about to refer the wholematter to pistols, they were surprised at seeing Sandytop stagger intocamp, under a large, unsightly bundle. The next day Mrs. Berryn ate fromcrockery instead of tin, and had a china wash-bowl and pitcher. 

Little Muggy, who sold out his claim the day after Buffle left, went toSan Francisco, but reappeared in camp in a few days, with a largebundle, a handsaw and a plane. Some light was thrown on the contents ofthe bundle by sundry scraps of linen, cotton, and very soft flannel, that the wind occasionally blew from the direction of Mrs. Berryn'sabode; but why Muggy suddenly needed a very large window in the onlyboarded side of his house; why he never staked another claim and went to"washing;" why his door always had to be unlocked from the inside beforeany one could get in, instead of being ajar, as was the usual customwith doors at Fat Pocket Gulch; why visitors always found the floorstrewn with shavings and blocks, but were told to mind their business ifthey asked what he was making; and why Uppercrust, an aristocratic youngreprobate, who had been a doctor in the States, had suddenly taken uphis abode with Muggy, were mysteries unsolvable by the united intellectsof Fat Pocket Gulch. 

It was finally suggested by some one, that, as Muggy had often andfluently cursed the "rockers" used to wash out dirt along the Gulch, itwas likely enough he was inventing a new one, and the ex-doctor, who, ofcourse, knew something about chemistry, was helping him to work anamalgamator into it; a careful comparison of bets showed this to be afairly accepted opinion, and so the matter rested. 

Meanwhile, Buffle had been untiring in his search, as his horse, couldhe have spoken, would have testified. Men wondered what Berryn had doneto Buffle, and odds of ten to one that some undertaker would soon havereason to bless Buffle were freely offered, but seldom taken. One nightBuffle's horse galloped into Deadlock Ridge, and the rider, hailing thefirst man he met, inquired the way to the saloon. 

"I don't know, " replied the man. 

"Come, no foolin' thar, " said Buffle, indignantly. 

"I don't know, I tell you--I don't drink. "

"Hang yer!" roared Buffle, in honest fury at what seemed to him the moststupendous lie ever told by a miner, "I'll teach yer to lie to me. " Andout came Buffle's pistol. 

The man saw his danger, and, springing at Buffle with the agility of acat, snatched the pistol and threw it on the ground; in an instantBuffle's hand had firmly grasped the man by his shirt-collar, and, thehorse taking fright, Buffle, a second later, found in his hand a tornpiece of red flannel, a chain, and a locket, while the man lay on theground. 

"At last!" exclaimed Buffle, convinced that he had found his man; buthis emotions were quickly cooled by the man in the road, who, jumpingfrom the ground, picked up Buffle's pistol, cocked and aimed it, andspoke in a grating voice, as if through set teeth:

"Give back that locket this second, or, as God lives, I'll take it outof a dead man's hand. "

The rapidity of human thought is never so beautifully illustrated aswhen the owner of a human mind is serving involuntarily as a target. 

"My friend, " said Buffle, "ef I've got anything uv yourn, yer ken hev iton provin' property. We'll go to whar that fust light is up above--I'llwalk the hoss slow an' yer ken keep me covered with the pistol; ain'tthat fair?"

"Be quick, then, " said the man, excitedly; "start!"

The trip was not more than two minutes in length, but it seemed a goodhour to Buffle, whose acquaintanceship the delicacy of the trigger ofhis beloved pistol caused his past life to pass in retrospect beforehim several times before they reached the light. The light proved to bein the saloon whose locality had provoked the quarrel. The saloon wasfull, the door was open, and there was a buzz of astonishment, whichculminated in a volley of ejaculations, in which strength predominatedover elegance, as a large man, followed closely by a small man with acocked pistol, marched up to the bar. 

"Gentlemen, " said Buffle, "this feller sez I've got some uv hisproperty, an' he's come here to prove it. Now, feller, wot's yer claim?"

"A chain and locket, " said the man; "hang you, I see them in your handnow. "

"Ennybody ken see a chain an' locket in my hand, " said Buffle, "but thatdon't make it yourn. "

"The locket contains the portrait of a lady, and the inscription'Frances to Allan'--look quick, or I'll shoot!" said the little man, savagely. 

Buffle opened it, and saw Mrs. Berryn's portrait. 

"Mister, yer right, " said he; "here's yer property, an' I'll apologize, er drink, er fight--er apologize, _an_' drink, _an'_ fight, whichever isyer style. Fust, however, ef ye'll drop that pistol, I'll drink myself, considerin'--never mind. Denominate yer pizen, gentlemen, " said he, asthe audience crowded to the bar. 

"Buffle, " whispered the barkeeper, who knew the great man by sight, "he's a littler man than you. "

"I know it, boss, " replied Buffle, most brazenly. "He sez he don'tdrink. "

"Never saw him _here_ before--there, he's goin' out now, " said thebarkeeper. 

Buffle turned and dashed through the crowd; all who held glasses quicklylaid them down and followed. 

"Stand back, the hull crowd uv yer, " said Buffle; "this ain't nofight--me an' the gentleman got private bizness. " And, laying his handon Berryn's shoulder, he said, "What are yer doin' here, when yer know alady like that?"

"Suffering hell for abusing heaven, '" replied Berryn, passionately. 

"Then why don't yer go back?" inquired Buffle. 

"Because I've got no money; all luck has failed me ever since I lefthome--shipwreck, hunger, poverty--"

"Come back a minute, " interrupted Buffle. "I forgot to come down withthe dust for the drinks. Now I tell yer what--I want yer to go back tomy camp--I've got plenty uv gold, an' it's no good to me, only furgamblin' an' drinkin'; yer welcome to enough uv it to git yerself home, an' git on yer feet when yer get thar. "

Berryn looked doubtingly at him as they entered the saloon. 

"P'r'aps somebody here ken tell this gentleman my name?" said Buffle. 

"Buffle!" said several voices in chorus. 

"Bully! Now, p'r'aps you same fellers ken tell him ef I'm a man uv myword?"

"You bet, " responded the same chorus. 

"An' now, p'r'aps some uv yer'll sell me a good hoss, pervidin' yerdon't want him stole mighty sudden?"

Several men invited attention to their respective animals, tied near thedoor. Promptly selecting one, paying for it, and settling with thebarkeeper, and mounting his own horse while Berryn mounted the new one, the two men galloped away, leaving the bystanders lost in astonishment, from which they only recovered after almost superhuman industry on thepart of the barkeeper. 

 * * * * *

One evening, when the daily labors and household cares of the Pat PocketGulchites had ended, the residents of that quiet village werecongregated, as usual, at the saloon. It was too early for gambling andfighting, and the boys chatted peacefully, pausing only a few times todrink "Here's her, " which had become the standard toast of the Gulch. Conversation turned on Muggy's invention, and a few bets wereexchanged, which showed the boys were not quite sure it was a rocker, after all. Suddenly Sandytop, who had been leaning against thedoor-frame, and, looking in the direction of Buffle's old cabin, ejaculated:

"'_Tis_ a rocker, boys--it's a rocker, but--but not that kind. "

The boys poured out the door, and saw an unusual procession approachingMrs. Berryn's cabin; first came Uppercrust, the young ex-doctor, then anIrishwoman from a neighboring settlement, and then Muggy, bearing ababy's cradle, neatly made of pine boards. The doctor and woman went in, and Muggy, dropping the cradle, ran at full speed to the saloon, and upto the bar, the crowd following. 

Muggy looked along the line, saw all the glasses were filled and inhand, and then, raising his own, exclaimed, "Here's her, boys!" and thenwent into a fully developed boo-hoo. And he was not alone; for once theboys watered their liquor, and purer water God never made. 

It was some moments before shirt-sleeves ceased to officiate ashandkerchiefs; but just as the boys commenced to look savagely at eachother, as if threatening cold lead if any one suspected unduetenderness, Sandytop, who had returned to his post at the door to giveease to the stream which his sleeve could not staunch, again startledthe crowd by staring earnestly toward the hill over which led the trail, and exclaiming, "Good God!"

There was another rush to the door, and there, galloping down the trail, was Buffle and another man. The boys stared at each other, but saidnothing--their gift of swearing was not equal to the occasion. 

Steadily they stared at the two men, until Buffle, reining back alittle, pointed his pistol threateningly. They took the hint, and afterthey were all inside, Sandytop closed the door and the shutters of theunglazed windows. 

"Thar's my shanty, " said Buffle, as they neared it from one side; "thatone with two bar'ls fur a chimley. You jest go right in. I'll be thar ezsoon ez I put up the hosses. "

As they reached the front, both men started at the sight of the cradle. 

"Why, I didn't know you were a married man, Buffle?" said his companion. 

"I--well--I--I--don't tell everything" stammered Buffle; and, catchingthe bridle of Berryn's horse the moment his rider had dismounted, Buffledashed off to the saloon, and took numerous solitary drinks, at which noone took offense. Then he turned, nodded significantly toward the oldshanty, and asked:

"How long since?"

"Not quite yit--yer got him here in time, Buffle, " said Muggy. 

"Thank the Lord!" said Buffle. His lips were very familiar with the nameof the Lord, but they had never before used it in this sense. 

Then, while several men were getting ready to ask Buffle where he foundhis man--Californians never ask questions in a hurry--there came fromthe direction of Buffle's shanty the sound of a subdued cry. 

"Gentlemen, " said the barkeeper, "there's no more drinking at this barto-night until--until I say so. "

No one murmured. No one swore. No one suggested a game. An old enemy ofBuffle's happened in, but that worthy, instead of feeling for hispistol, quietly left the leaning-post, and bowed his enemy into it. 

The boys stood and sat about, studied the cracks in the floor, thepattern of the shutters, contemplated the insides of their hats, andchewed tobacco as if their lives depended on it. 

Buffle made frequent trips to the door, and looked out. Suddenly heclosed the door, and had barely time to whisper, "No noise, now, or I'llshoot, " when the doctor walked in. The crowd arose. 

"It's all right, gentlemen, " said the doctor--"as fine a boy as I eversaw. "

"My treat for the rest of the evening, boys, " said the barkeeper, hurriedly crowding glasses and bottles on the bar. "Her, " "Him, " "Him, Junior, " "Buffle, " "Doc. , " and "Old Rockershop, " as some happilyinspired miner dubbed little Muggy, were drunk successively. 

The door opened again, and in walked Allan Berryn. Glancing quicklyabout, he soon distinguished Buffle. He grasped his hand, looked himsteadily in the eye, and exclaimed:

"Buffle, you--"

He was a Harvard graduate, and a fine talker, was Allan Berryn, but, when he had spoken two words, he somehow forgot the remainder of thespeech he had made up on his way over; his silence for two or threeseconds seemed of hours to every man who looked on his face, so that itwas a relief to all when he gave Buffle a mighty hug, and thenprecipitately retreated. 

Buffle looked sheepish, and shook himself. 

"That feller can outhug a grizzly, " said he. "Boys, " he continued, "thatchap's been buckin' agin luck sence he's been in the diggin's, an' isclean busted. But his luck begun to turn this evening, an' here's whatgoes for keepin' the ball a-rollin'. Here's my ante;" saying which, helaid his old hat on the bar, took out his buckskin bag of gold-dust, andemptied it into the hat. 

Bags came out of pockets all around, and were either entirely emptied, or had their contents largely diminished by knife-blades, which scoopedout the precious dust, and dropped it into the hat. 

"There, " said Buffle, looking into the hat, "I reckon that'll kerry 'emback to their folks. "

For a fortnight the saloon was as quiet as a well-orderedprayer-meeting, and it was solemnly decided that no fight with pistolsshould take place nearer than The Bend, which was, at least, a mile fromwhere the new resident's cradle was located. 

One pleasant, quiet evening, Buffle, who frequently passed an hour withBerryn on the latter's woodpile, was seen approaching the saloon with avery small bundle, which, nevertheless, occupied both his arms and allhis attention. 

"It, by thunder, " said one. So it was; a wee, pink-faced, blue-eyed, fuzzy-topped little thing, with one hand frantically clutching threehairs of Buflle's beard. 

"See the little thing pull, " said one. 

"Is that all the nose they hev at fust?" asked another, seriously. 

"Can't yer take them pipes out uv yer mouths when the baby's aroun'?"indignantly demanded another. 

Little Muggy edged his way through the crowd, threw away his quid oftobacco, took the baby from Buffle, and kissed it a dozen times. 

"I'm goin' home, fellers, " said Muggy, finally. "I'm wanted by thelawyers for cuttin' a man that sassed me while I was shoe-makin'. ButI'm a-goin' to see my young uns, even if all creation wants me. "

"An' I'm a-goin', too, " said Buffle. "I'm wanted pretty bad by somethat's East, but I reckon I'm well enough hid by the bar that's grow'dsence I wuz a boy, an' dug out from old Varmont. I've had a new taste uvdecency lately, an' I'm goin' to see ef I can't stan' it for a stiddydiet. The chap over to the shanty sez he ken git me somethin' to do, an'ennythin's better'n gamblin', drinkin', and fightin'. 

"It's agin the law to kerry shootin'-irons there, Buffle, " suggestedone. 

"Yes, an' they got a new kind uv a law there, to keep a man from takin'his bitters, " said another. 

"Yes, " said Buffle, "all that's mighty tough, but ef a feller's boundfur bed-rock, he might ez well git that all uv a sudden, ef he ken. "

Buffle started toward the door, stopped as if he had something else tosay, started again, hesitated, feigned indignation at the baby, flushedthe least bit, opened the door, partly closed it again, squeezed himselfout and displaying only the tip of his nose, roared:

"This baby's name is Allan Buffle Berryn--Allen _Buffle_ Berryn!" andthen rushed at full speed to leave the baby at home, while the boysclinked glasses melodiously. 

At the end of another fortnight there was a procession formed at FatPocket Gulch; two horses, one wearing a side-saddle, were brought to thedoor of Buffle's old house, and Mrs. Berryn and her husband mountedthem; they were soon joined by Buffle and Muggy. 

[Illustration: "THIS BABY'S NAME IS ALLAN BUFFLE BERRYN. "]

For months after there was mourning far and wide among owners of mulesand horses, for each Gulchite had been out stealing, that he might ridewith the escort which was to see the Berryns safely to the crossing. Anadvance-guard was sent ahead, and the party were about to start, whenBuffle suddenly dismounted and entered his old cabin; when hereappeared, a cloud of smoke followed him. 

"Thar, " said he, a moment later, as flames were seen bursting throughthe roof, "no galoot uv a miner don't live in that shanty after that. Git. "

Away galloped the party, the baby in the arms of its father. Thecrossing was safely reached, and the stage had room for the whole party, and, after a hearty hand-shaking all around, the stage started. Sandytopthrew one of his only two shoes after it for luck. 

As the stage was disappearing around a bend, a little way from thecrossing, the back curtain was suddenly thrown up, a baby, backed by awhite hat and yellow beard, was seen, and a familiar voice was heard toroar, "Allan _Buffle_ Berryn. "

[Illustration]

MATALETTE'S SECTION. 

"Nice place? I guess it is; ther hain't no such farm in _this_ part ofIllinoy, nor anywhere else that _I_ knows on. Two-story house, andpainted instead of being whitewashed; blinds on the winders; nothirty-dollar horses in the barn, an' no old, unpainted wagons around;no deadened trees standin' aroun' in the corn-lot or thewheat-field--not a one. Good cribs to hold his corn, instead of leavingit on the stalk, or tuckin' it away in holler sycamore logs, good pumpto h'ist his drinkin'-water with, good help to keep up with thework--why, ther hain't a man on Matalette's whole place that don't looksmart enough to run a farm all alone by himself. And money--well, hedon't ask no credit of no man: he just hauls out his money and pays up, as if he enjoyed gettin' rid of it. There's nobody like him in theseparts, you can just bet your life. "

The speaker was a Southern Illinoisan of twenty-five years ago, and hisonly auditor was a brother farmer. 

Both worked hard and shook often (with ague) between the seed time andharvest, but neither had succeeded in amassing such comfortable resultsas had seemed to reward the efforts of their neighbor Matalette. For thelistener had not heard half the story of Matalette's advantages. He wasas good-natured, smart and hospitable as he was lucky. He indulged inthe unusual extravagance of a hired cook; and the neighbors, thoughthey, on principle, disapproved of such expenditure, never failed toappreciate the results of the said cook's labors. 

Matalette had a sideboard, too, and the contents smelled and tastedvery unlike the liquor which was sold at the only store in BonpasBottoms. 

When young Lauquer, who was making a gallant fight against a stumpyquarter section, had his only horse lie down and die just as the secondcorn-plowing season came on, it was Matalette who supplied the moneywhich bought the new horse. 

When the inhabitants of the Bottoms wondered and talked and argued aboutthe advisability of trying some new seed-wheat, which had the reputationof being very heavy, Matalette settled the whole question by ordering alarge lot, and distributing it with his compliments. 

Lastly--though the statement has not, strictly speaking, anyagricultural bearing--Matalette had a daughter. There were plenty ofdaughters among the families in Bonpas Bottoms, and many of them werevery estimable girls; but Helen Matalette was very different from any ofthem. 

"Always knows just what to say and do, " remarked Syle-Conover, one day, at the store, where the male gossips of the neighborhood met to exchangeviews. "A fellow goes up to see Matalette--goes in his shirt-sleeves, not expectin' to see any women around--when who comes to the door but_her_. For a minute a fellow wishes he could fly, or sink; next minutehe feels as if he'd been acquainted with her for a year. Hanged if Iunderstand it, but she's the kind of gal I go in fur!"

The latter clause of Syle's speech fitly expressed the sentiments of allthe young men in Bonpas Bottoms, as well as of many gentlemen not soyoung. 

Old men--farmers with daughters of their own--would cheerfully foregothe delights of either a prayer-meeting or a circus, and suddenly findsome business to transact with Matalette, whenever there seemed areasonable chance of seeing Helen; and such of them as had sons of amarriageable age would express to those young men their entirewillingness to be promoted to the rank of fathers-in-law. 

There was just one unpleasant thing about the Matalettes, both fatherand daughter, and that was, the ease with which one could startle them. 

It was rather chilling, until one knew Matalette well, to see himtremble and start violently on being merely slapped on the shoulder bysome one whose approach he had not noticed; it was equally unpleasantfor a newcomer, on suddenly confronting Helen, to see her turn pale, andlook quickly and furtively about, as if preparing to run. 

The editor of the _Bonpas Cornblade_, in a sonnet addressed to "H. M. , "compared this action to that of a startled fawn; but the public wonderedwhether Helen's father could possibly be excused in like manner, andwhether the comparison could, with propriety, be extended so as toinclude the three hired men, who, curiously enough, were equallytimorous at first acquaintance. 

But this single fault of the Matalettes and their adherents was soonforgotten, for it did not require a long residence in Bonpas Bottoms tomake the acquaintance of every person living in that favored section, and strangers--except such passengers as occasionally strolled ashorewhile the steamboat landed supplies for the store, or shipped the grainwhich Matalette was continually buying and sending to NewOrleans--seldom found their way to Bonpas Bottoms. 

The Matalettes sat at supper one evening, when there was heard a knockat the door. There was in an instant an unusual commotion about thetable, at which sat the three hired men, with the host and hisdaughter--a commotion most extraordinary for a land in which neitherIndians nor burglars were known. 

Each of the hired men hastily clicked something under the table, whileHelen turned pale, but quickly drew a small stiletto from a fold of herdress. 

"Ready?" asked Matalette, in a low tone, as he took a candle from thetable, and placed his unoccupied hand in his pocket. 

"Yes, " whispered each of the men, while Helen nodded. 

"Who's there?" shouted Matalette, approaching the outer door. 

"I--Asbury Crewne--the new circuit preacher, " replied a voice. "I'm wet, cold and hungry--can you give me shelter, in the name of my Master?"

"Certainly!" cried Matalette, hastening to open the door, while thethree hired men rapidly repocketed their pistols, and Helen gave vent toa sigh of relief. 

They heard a heavy pack thrown on the floor, a hearty greeting fromMatalette, and then they saw in the doorway a tall, straight young man, whose blue eyes, heavy, closely curling yellow hair and finely cutfeatures made him extremely handsome, despite a solemn, puritanical lookwhich not even a driving rain and a cold wind had been able to banishfrom his face. 

There were many worthy young men in the Bonpas Bottoms, but none of themwere at all so fine-looking as Asbury Crewne; so, at least, Helen seemedto think, for she looked at him steadily, except when he was looking ather. Of course, Crewne, being a preacher, took none but a spiritualinterest in young ladies; but where a person's face seems to show forththe owner's whole soul, as was the case with Helen Matalette's, aminister of the Gospel is certainly justifiable in looking oft and longat it--nay, is even grossly culpable if he does not regard it with alively and tender interest. 

Such seemed to be the young divine's train of reasoning, and hisconsequent conclusion, for, from the time he exchanged his drippingclothing for a suit of Matalette's own, he addressed his conversationalmost entirely to Helen. And Helen, who very seldom met, in the BonpasBottoms, gentlemen of taste and intelligence, seemed to be spending anunusually agreeable evening, if her radiant and expressive countenancemight be trusted to tell the truth. 

When the young preacher, according to the custom of his class anddenomination, at that day, finally turned the course of conversationtoward the one reputed object of his life, it was with a sigh whichindicated, perhaps, how earnestly he regretted that the dominion ofSatan in the world compelled him to withdraw his soul from such pure andunusual delights as had been his during that evening. And when, afteroffering a prayer with the family, Crewne followed Matalette to achamber to rest, Helen bade him good-night with a bright smile whichmixed itself up inextricably with his private devotions, his thoughtsand his plans for forthcoming sermons, and seriously curtailed hisnight's rest in addition. 

In the morning it was found that his clothing was still wet, so, as itwas absolutely necessary that he should go to fulfil an appointment, itwas arranged that he should retain Matalette's clothing, and returnwithin a few days for his own. 

Then Matalette, learning that the young man was traveling his circuit onfoot, insisted on lending him a horse, and on giving him money withwhich to purchase one. 

It was a great sum of money--more than his salary for a year amountedto--and the young man's feelings almost overcame him as he tried toutter his thanks; but just then Helen made her first appearance duringthe morning, and from the instant she greeted Crewne all thoughts ofgratitude seemed to escape his mind, unless, indeed, he suddenlydetermined to express his thanks through a third party. Such asupposition would have been fully warranted by the expressive looks hecast upon Helen's handsome face. 

Had any member of the flock at Mount Pisgah Station seen these two youngpeople during the moment or two which followed Helen's appearance, hewould have sorrowfully but promptly dismissed from his mind anyexpectation of hearing the sermon which Crewne had promised to preach atMount Pisgah that morning. But the young preacher was of no ordinaryhuman pattern: with sorrow, yet determination, he bade Helen good-by, and though, as he rode away, he frequently turned his head, he neverstopped his horse. 

Down the road through the dense forest he went, trying, by reading hisBible as he rode, to get his mind in proper condition for a mightyeffort at Mount Pisgah. He wasn't conscious of doing such a thing--hecould honestly lay his hand on his heart and say he hadn't the slightestintention of doing anything of the kind, yet somehow his Bible opened atthe Song of Solomon. For a moment he read, but for a moment only; thenhe shut his lips tightly, and deliberately commenced reading the Book ofPsalms. 

He had fairly restored his mind to working shape, and was justwhispering fervent thanks to the Lord, when a couple of horsemengalloped up to him. As he turned his head to see who they might be, heobserved that each of them held a pistol in a very threatening manner. As he looked, however, the pistols dropped, and one of the ridersindulged in a profane expression of disappointment. 

"It's Matalette's clothes and horse, Jim, " he said to his companion, "but it's the preacher's face. 

"And you have been providentially deferred from committing a greatcrime!" exclaimed Crewne, with a reproving look. "Mr. Matalette took mein last night, wet, cold, and footsore; this morning I departed, refreshed, clothed and mounted. To rob a man who is so lavish of--"

"Beg your pardon, parson, " interrupted one of the men, "but you haven'tgot the right pig by the ear. We're not highwaymen. I'm the sheriff ofthis county, and Jim's a constable. And as for Matalette, he's acounterfeiter, and we're after him. "

Crewne dropped his bridle-rein, and his lower jaw, as he exclaimed:

"Impossible!"

"'Tis, eh?" said the sheriff. "Well, we've examined several lots ofmoney he's paid out lately, and there isn't a good bill among 'em. "

Crewne mechanically put his hands in his pocket and drew forth the moneyMatalette had given him to buy a horse with. The sheriff snatched it. 

"That's some of his stock?" said he, looking it rapidly over. _That_seems good enough. "

"What will become of his poor daughter?" ejaculated the young preacher, with a vacant look. 

"What, Helen?" queried the sheriff. "She's the best engraver ofcounterfeits there is in the whole West. "

"Dreadful--dreadful!" exclaimed the young preacher, putting his handover his eyes. 

"Fact, " replied the sheriff. "You parsons have got a big job to do 'forethis world's in the right shape, an' sheriffs and constables ain'tneeded. Wish you good luck at it, though 'twill be bad for trade. You'llkeep mum 'bout this case, of course. We'll catch 'em in the act finally;then there won't be any danger about not getting a conviction, an' ourreward, that's offered by the banks. "

The sheriff and his assistant galloped on to the village they had beenapproaching when they overtook Crewne; but the young minister did notaccompany them, although the village toward which they rode was the onein which he was to preach that morning. 

Perhaps he needed more time and quietness in which to compose hissermon. If this supposition is correct, it may account for the fact thatthe members of the Mount Pisgah congregation pronounced his sermon thatday, from the text, "All is vanity, " one of his most powerful efforts. 

In fact, old Mrs. Reets, who had for time immemorial entertained theprobable angels who appeared at Mount Pisgah in ministerial guise, remarked that "preacher seemed all tuckered out by that talk; tuk hiscritter, an' left town 'fore the puddin' was done. "

That same evening, the sheriff and his deputy, with several specialassistants, rode from Mount Pisgah toward Matalette's section. 

The night was dark, rainy and cloudy; the horses stumbled over roots andlogs in the imperfectly made road; the low-hanging branches spitefullycut the faces of the riders, and brought several hats to grief, andsnatched the sheriff's pipe out of his mouth. 

And yet the sheriff seemed in excellent spirits. To be sure, he softlywhistled the air of, "Jordan is a hard road to travel, " which was thepopular air twenty-five years ago, but there was a merry tone to hiswhistle. He stopped whistling suddenly, and remarked to the constable:

"Got notice to-day of another new counterfeit. Five hundred offered forarrest and conviction on _that_. Hope we can prove _that_ on Matalette'sgang. We can go out of politics, and run handsome farms of our own, ifthings go all right to-night. Don't know but I'd give my whole share, though, to whoever would arrest Helen. It's a dog's life, anyhow, thisbein' a sheriff. I won't complain, however, if we get that gangto-night. "

The party rode on until they were within a mile of Matalette's section, when they reined their horses into the woods, dismounted, left a man onwatch, and approached the dwelling on foot. 

Reaching the fence, the party halted, whispered together for a moment, and silently surrounded the house in different directions. 

The sheriff removed his boots, walked noiselessly around the house, sawthat he had a man at each door and window, and posted one at thecellar-door. Then the sheriff put on his boots, approached the frontdoor, and knocked loudly. 

There was no response. The light was streaming brightly from one of thewindows, and the sheriff tried to look in, but the thick curtainprevented him. He knocked again, and louder, but still there was noresponse. Then he became uneasy. He was a brave man when he knew whatwas to be met, but now all sorts of uncomfortable suspicions crossed hismind; the rascals might be up-stairs waiting for a quiet opportunity toshoot down at him, or they might be under the small stoop on which hestood, and preparing to fire up at him. They might be quietly burningtheir spurious money up-stairs, so as to destroy the evidence againstthem; they might be in the cellar burying the plates. 

The sheriff could endure the suspense no longer. Signaling to him two ofhis men, he, with a blow of a stick of wood, broke in the window-sash. As, immediately afterward, he tore aside the curtain, he and hisassistance presented pistols and shouted:

"Surrender!"

No one was visible, and the sheriff only concealed his sheepish feelingsby jumping into the room. His assistants followed him, and they searchedthe entire house without finding any one. 

They searched the cellar, the outhouses, and the barn, but encounteredonly the inquiring glances of the horses and cattle. Then they searchedthe house anew, hoping to find proof of the guilt of Matalette and hisfamily; but, excepting holes in the floor of a vacant room, they foundnothing which might not be expected in a comfortable home. 

Suddenly some one thought of the boats which Matalette kept at the mouthof the creek, and a detachment, headed by the sheriff, went hastily downto examine them. 

The boats were gone--not even the tiniest canoe or most dilapidatedskiff remained. It is grievous to relate--but truth is truth--that thesheriff, who was on Sundays a Sabbath-school superintendent, now losthis temper and swore frightfully. But no boats were conjured up by thesheriff's language, nor did his assistance succeed in finding any up thecreek; so the party returned to the house, and resorted to the illegalmeasure of helping themselves liberally to the contents of Matalette'ssideboard. 

Meanwhile a black mass, floating down the Wabash, about a dozen milesbelow the Bonpas's mouth, seemed the cause of some mysterious plungingand splashing in the river. Finally an aperture appeared in the blackmass, and the light streamed out. Then the figure of a man appeared inthe aperture, and all was dark again. 

As the figure disappeared within the mass, three bearded men, dressedlike emigrants, looked up furtively, one yellow-haired man staredvacantly and sadly into the fire which illumed the cabin of the littletrading boat, while Helen Matalette sprang forward and threw her armsabout the figure's neck. 

"It's all gone, Nell, " said the man. "Presses and plates are wherenobody will be likely to find them. The Wabash won't tell secrets. "

"I'm so glad--_oh_, so glad!" cried the girl. 

"It's a fortune thrown away, " said one of the men, moodily. 

"Yes, and a bad name, too, " said she, with flashing eyes. 

"We're beggars for life, anyhow, " growled another of the men. 

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Matalette. "Nell's right--if we're not tracked andcaught, I'll never be sorry that we sunk the accursed business for ever. And, considering our narrow escape, and how it happened, I don't thinkwe're very gentlemanly to sit here bemoaning our luck. Mr. Crewne, "continued Matalette, crossing to the yellow-haired figure in front ofthe fire, "you've saved me--what can I give you?"

The young preacher recovered himself, and replied, briefly:

"Your soul. "

Matalette winced, and, in a weak voice, asked:

"Anything else?"

Crewne looked toward Helen; Helen blushed, and looked a littlefrightened; Crewne blushed, too, and seemed to be clearing his throat;then, with a mighty effort, he said:

"Yes--Helen. "

The counterfeiter looked at his daughter for an instant, and then failedto see her partly because something marred the clearness of his visionjust then, and partly because Crewne, interpreting the father's silenceas consent, took possession of the reward he had named, and almost hidher from her father's view. 

Matalette's section was finally sold for taxes, and was never reclaimed, but the excitement relating to its former occupants was for years sogreat that the purchasers of the estate found it worldly wisdom todispense refreshments on the ground. 

As for Crewne--a few months after the occurrences mentioned above thereappeared, in the wilds of Missouri, a young preacher with unusual zeal, and a handsome wife. And about the same time four men entered aquarter-section of prairie-land near the young preacher's station, andappeared then and evermore to be the most ardent and faithful of theyoung man's admirers. 

[Illustration]

A STORY OF TEN MILE GULCH. 

I. 

The horse which Mr. Tom Ruger rode kept the path, steep and ruggedthough it was, without any guidance from him, and its mate followeddemurely. They were accustomed to it; and many a mile had they traversedin this way, taking turns at carrying their owner and master. Indeed, the trio seemed inseparable, and "as happy as Tom Ruger and his horses"was a phrase that was very often heard in every mining camp andsettlement. 

As for Mr. Tom Ruger himself, very little was known of him save what hadbeen learned during the two years that he had sojourned among them. Where he came from never was known, nor asked but once by the sameperson. All that could be said of him might be summed up in thefollowing statement:

"The finest-looking, the best-dressed, and the best-mannered man on thePacific coast, and the best horseman. "

These were the words of "mine host" at the Ten Mile House, and, as hewas a gentleman whose word was as good as his paper, we will accept themas truth. 

As Mr. Ruger rode down the mountain-side that beautiful Autumn day, dressed in the finest of broadcloth, with linen of the most immaculatewhiteness, smoking what appeared to be a very good cigar, and humming tohimself a fragment of some old song, he looked strangely out of place. 

So thought Miss Fanny Borlan as she looked out of the stage-window, andcaught her first glimpse of him just where his path intersected thestage-road; and she would have asked the driver about him, had he notbeen so near. 

Mr. Ruger caught sight of her face about that time, and tossing away thecigar, he lifted his hat to her in the most approved style. 

She acknowledged the salute by a bow, and when he rode up to the side ofthe stage, and made some casual remark about the fine weather, she didnot choose to consider it out of the way to receive this advance towarda traveling acquaintance with seeming cordiality. 

"Have you traveled far?" he asked. 

"From the Atlantic coast, sir. "

"The same journey that I intend to take some of these days, only that Ihope to substitute the word Pacific at its termination. I hope you arenear the end of your journey in this direction?"

"My destination is Ten Mile Gulch, I believe; but you have such horridnames out here. "

"I presume they do appear somewhat queer to a stranger, but they nearlyall have the merit of being appropriate. You stop at the settlement?"

"I do not know. My brother wrote to me to come to Ten Mile Gulch. Is itthe name of a town?"

"Both of a village and a mining district, from which the village takesits name. Is your brother a miner?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I presume he intended to meet you at the settlement You will no doubtfind him at the tavern; if not, I will tell him of your arrival, for myway leads through the mines. "

"Thank you, sir. My brother's name is John Borlan. "

"I am somewhat acquainted with him, " said Mr. Kuger, "though in thisregion of strange names we call him Jack. My name is Thomas Ruger. "

"Tom, in California style?" she asked, with a merry twinkle in her eye. 

"Yes, Miss Borlan, " he said, also smiling. "Tom Ruger is well knownwhere Thomas Ruger never was heard of. And now I will bid you good-day, Miss Borlan, for I am in something of a hurry to reach the settlement. If I do not find Jack there, I will go on to the mines and tell him. "

"Ah, Miss, you don't have such men as Tom Ruger out where you comefrom, " said the driver, as Tom disappeared up the road. "And them nagsof his'n can't be beat this side of the mountains. He makes a heap o'money with 'em. "

"What! a horse-jockey?" exclaimed Miss Borlan. 

"We don't call him that, miss. Some says he's a sportin' man, whichain't nothin' ag'in him, for the country's new, ye see. He's got heapso' money anyway, and there ain't a camp nor a town on the coast thatdon't know Tom Ruger. Ah, ye don't have such men as Tommy. He'd be athome in a palace, now wouldn't he? And it's jest the same in a miner'sshanty. Ye don't have such men as he. If he takes a likin' to anybody, he sticks to 'em through thick and thin; but if he gits ag'in ye once, he's--the--very--deuce. Ah, ye don't have no such man out where you comefrom. "

She did not care to dispute this point. In fact, after what she had seenand heard, she was inclined to believe that there was no such men as TomRuger out where she had come from; so she made no reply; and the driver, following out his train of thought, rattled on about Tom Ruger untilthey came in sight of Ten Mile Gulch, winding up his narrative with thesage, but rather unexpected, remark, that there weren't no such men asTom Ruger out where she had come from. 

II. 

The barroom at the Miners' Home might have been more crowded at someformer period of its existence, but to have duplicated the two dozenfaces and forms of the two dozen Ten Milers who were congregated therethat beautiful Autumn afternoon would have been a hopeless task. 

Ten Mile Gulch had turned out _en masse_, and those same Ten Milerswere distinguished neither for their good looks, nor taste in dress, norsoftness of heart or language, nor elegance of manners. Further thanthat we do not care to go at present. 

But there was one face and one form absent. No more would the genialatmosphere of that barroom respond to the heavings of his broad chest, no more would the dignified concoctor of rare and villainous drinks passhim the whisky-straight. Alas! Bill Foster had passed in his checks, andgone the way of all Ten Milers. 

And it was this fact that brought these diligent delvers after hiddentreasure from their work, for Bill had not gone in the ordinary way. Atnight he was in the full enjoyment of health and a game of poker; in themorning they found him just outside the domicile of Jack Borlan, with asmall puncture near the heart to tell how it was done. Such was life atTen Mile Gulch. 

Who made the puncture?

Circumstances pointed to Jack Borlan, and they escorted him down to thesettlement. He stood by the bar conversing with the dispenser of liquidlightning. Two very calm-looking Ten Milers were within easy reach ofMr. Borlan; two more at the door, which was left temptingly open; twomore at each window, and the remainder scattered about the room to suitthemselves. 

Mr. Bob Watson was the only one calm enough to enjoy a seat, and he waswhittling away at the pine bench with such energy that a stranger mighthave concluded that whittling was his best hold. Not so, however; hewhittled until he found a nail with the edge of his knife, and thenvaried his diversion by grasping the point of the blade between thethumb and first finger of his right hand, and throwing it at the lefteye of a very flattering representation of Yankee Sullivan which gracedthe wall. 

By a slight miscalculation of distance and elevation, the eye wasunharmed, but the well-developed nose was more effectually ruined thanits original ever was by the most scientific pugilist. 

"Well, gentlemen, what shall we do with the prisoner?" asks Watson. 

"We're waiting for _you_, " said a tall Ten Miler, who had been a pleasedwitness of the knife-throwing and its results. 

"Well, you need not, " retorted Mr. Watson, as he made a fling atYankee's other eye, and with very good success. "You know my sentiments, gentlemen. I was opposed to bringing the prisoner here. We might havefixed up the matter all at one time, and saved a heap of diggin'. "

"It--might--have--done, " said the tall Miler, doubtfully; "but Iwouldn't like to see the two together. It would spoil all my enjoymentof the occasion. "

"Bet yer ten to one ye don't swing him!" cried Watson, springing to hisfeet with sudden inspiration, and mounting the bench he had beenwhittling. "Twenty to one Jack Borlan don't choke this heat! Who takesme? who? who?"

No one seemed disposed to take him. 

"Bosh! you Ten Milers are all babies. Now, if this had happened up atQuit Claim, Borlan would have had a beautiful tombstone over him longago. What do _you_ say, Borlan?"

The prisoner, thus addressed, cut short some remark he was making, andturned to Watson. "There have been cases where the prisoner had thebenefit of a trial, Mr. Watson. "

"Which is so, Mr. Borlan. Obliged to you fur reminding me. Let's haveone, gentlemen. I'll be prosecuting attorney, if no one objects; now, who'll defend the prisoner at the bar?"

"I'll make a feeble attempt that way, " was the reply that came from thedoorway. All eyes turned, and recognized Tom Ruger. 

"This is betwixt us Ten Milers, " said Watson. "Borlan is guilty, andwe're bound to hang him before sundown; but we want to do the fairthing, and give him the benefit of a trial. Who of you Ten Milers willdefend him?"

"I told you _I_ would defend Mr. Borlan, " said Tom Ruger, as he removedhis silk hat and wiped his broad forehead with the finest of silkhandkerchiefs. 

"I tell you we won't have any outsiders in this game, " said Watson. 

"I really dislike to contradict you, Mr. Watson, " remarked Tom Ruger, ashe very carefully readjusted his hat. "Very sorry, Mr. Watson, and I dohope you'll pardon me when I repeat that I will defend Mr. Borlan--_with--my--life_!"

This remark surprised no one more than Jack Borlan. He had never spokento Mr. Ruger a dozen times in his life, and he could not account forsuch disinterestedness. However, there was not much time for conjecture, for Mr. Watson had taken offense. 

"With your death, Tom Ruger, if you interfere!" cried Watson, jumpingdown from his elevation. 

It did look that way; but Mr. Ruger had not strolled up and down thatauriferous coast without acquiring some knowledge of the usual means ofdefense in that sunny clime, as well as some practice. It was quite warmfor a moment; then Mr. Borlan, believing it to be his duty, as client, to aid his counsel in the defense, went in gladly. 

Still it was quite warm; also somewhat smoky from the powder that hadbeen burned; likewise noisy. Not so noisy, however, that Mr. Borlancould not hear his counsel say:

"Clear yourself, Borlan! My horses are down at the ford!"

Mr. Borlan followed the advice of his counsel, and Mr. Ruger followedMr. Borlan. The Ten Milers--some of them--followed both counsel andclient. 

It was neck and heels until the horses were reached. After that thepursuers were left at a great disadvantage. 

"I'll have his heart!" ejaculated Watson. Which heart he meant we haveno means of knowing. "Give me a horse! quick!"

They brought a mule. 

"Wait here, every man of you!" Watson shouted back over the shaved tailof his substitute for a horse. "I'll bring him back, dead or alive, ormy name ain't Watson!"

And over the way the stage had stopped, and Fanny Borlan had reached TenMile Gulch at last. 

III. 

A little after sunrise, the next morning, Mr. Tom Ruger might have beenseen leisurely riding along the bridle-path between the mines and thesettlement of Ten Mile Gulch. He was headed toward the village, and wasnine and three-quarter miles nearer to it than the mines. He had foundanother good cigar somewhere, and was humming the selfsame tune as onthe previous afternoon; but the riderless horse was not with him. 

As Mr. Ruger rode into the only street in the village, his approach washeralded, and the Ten Milers, who were waiting for Watson's return, filed out of the Miners' Home, and took stations in the street. 

Mr. Ruger took note of this demonstration, and, with a verybusiness-like air, examined the contents of his holsters. He alsonoticed that patched noses and heads, and canes and crutches, were thepredominating features in the group of Ten Milers, with an occasionalclosed eye and a bandaged hand to vary the monotony. 

Miss Fanny Borlan, from her window at the Ten Mile House, also noticedthe dilapidated looks of the frequenters of the Miners' Home, andwondered if they kept a hospital there. Then she saw Mr. Ruger, andbowed and smiled as he drew up at her window. 

"So you arrived all safe, Miss Borlan? How do you like the place?"

"Better than the inhabitants, " she answered, with a glance over theway. "Than those, I mean. Is it a hospital?"

"For the present I believe it is. "

"And will be for some time to come, if they all stay till they're cured. But have you seen Jack?"

"Yes--last evening. He was very sorry that he could not wait for you, but it may be as well, however. He has gone down to San Francisco, andhe will wait for you there. The stage leaves here in about two hours, and I advise you to take passage in it, if you are not too muchfatigued. "

"I'm not tired a bit, Mr. Kuger. I will go back. Thank you for thetrouble you have taken. "

"No trouble, Miss Borlan. Give my respects to Jack, and tell him I willbe down in a week or two. Good-morning. "

While talking, Mr. Ruger had about evenly divided his glances betweenthe very beautiful face of Fanny Borlan and the somewhat expressivecountenances of the Ten Milers. Not that he found anything to admire intheir damaged physiognomies, but he never wholly ignored the presence ofany one. 

"Good-morning, gentlemen, " he said, as he rode up in front of them. 

"Not to _you_, Tom Ruger, " spoke a tall Ten Miler--the only one, by-the-way, who had come out of the previous day's trial unscathed. "Notto you, Tom Ruger! Where's Borlan?"

"He's gone down the coast on business, " said Ruger, "and may not be backfor several months. "

"We'll not wait for _him_" was the miner's reply. 

At the same time he drew a revolver. 

"You had _better_ wait, " said Ruger, also producing a revolver. 

The Ten Miler paused, and looked around at his companions. They did notpresent a formidable array of fighting stock. In fact, they were thesorest-looking men that Ten Mile Gulch ever saw; and as the unscathedsurveyed them, he seemed to think he _had_ better wait. 

[Illustration: "YOU HAD BETTER WAIT, " SAID RUGER, ALSO PRODUCING AREVOLVER. ]

"You'll wait for Mr. Borlan?" queried Ruger. 

"I reckon we'd better, " answered the unscathed. 

"And while you are waiting, you had better take a cursory glance at Mr. Watson, " suggested Ruger. "At the present time he is reposing in theshade of an acacia-bush, just back of the late lamented William Foster'srural habitation. Good-morning, gentlemen; and don't get impatient. "

If Mr. Ruger had any fear of treachery, he did not exhibit it, for henever turned his head as he rode off toward the valley. Nor was thereany danger; for beneath his suggestions about Mr. Watson the unscathedhad detected a thing or two. 

"I'm glad we waited, " he said. "I begin to see a thing or two. Them asis able will follow me up the Gulch. "

About half a score went with him. Mr. Watson was still enjoying theshade of the acacia-bush. In fact, he couldn't get away, which Mr. Rugerwell knew. 

"It's all up with me, Gulchers, " whispered Watson. "Ruger was too manyfor me, and I ought to have known it. You'll find Bill Foster's dust ina flour-sack, in my cabin. My respects to Borlan when you see him, andtell him I beg his pardon for discommoding him. Give what dust ishonestly mine to him. It's all I can do now. Good-by, boys. I'm jestplayed out; but take my advice and never buck against Tom Ruger. He'stoo many for any dozen chaps on the coast. I knew 'twas all up with methe minute Tom came in, for he can look right through a feller's heart. But never mind! It's too late to help it now. I staked everything I hadagainst Foster's pile, and I'm beat, beat, beat!"

These were the last words Mr. Bob Watson ever spoke, as many a survivingTen Miler will tell you, and they buried him in the spot where he died, without any beautiful stone to mark the place. 

IV. 

Miss Fanny Borlan found Jack awaiting her at San Francisco. 

"What made you run away?"

"Why, Fanny, didn't Tom tell you about it?" queried Jack. 

"Tom? Oh, you mean Mr. Ruger. He only sent me down here. "

"Just like him, Fan; very few words he ever wastes. Ah, sister, we don'thave such men out East. "

"So the stage-driver told me, " said Fanny, demurely. 

"There, Fan, you're poking fun now. Wait till I get through. Only forTom, you would have found me at Ten Mile Gulch, hanging by the neck tothe limb of that tree just in front of the Home. "

"Hanging, Jack?"

"Hanging, Fan--lynched for a murder I never committed. Tom came alongjust in the nick of time, and--Well, Fan, perhaps you saw some of theTen Milers before you came away?"

"Yes, Jack; and there was only one whole nose in the lot, and I dobelieve that was out of joint. But, oh, Jack! if they had taken yourlife!"

"Never mind now, sis. Tom was too many for 'em; and here I am safe. We'll wait here till Tom comes down, for I've got one of his horses, which he thinks more of than he does of himself; then for home, sis. "

Mr. Tom Ruger went down, as he said he would, and remained with themseveral days. On the morning that they were to sail, Fanny said to Tom:

"I wish you were going with us, Mr. Ruger. We shall miss you very much. Won't you go?"

Mr. Ruger was talking with Jack at the time, but he heard Fanny--healways heard what _she_ said. 

He did not reply at once, however, but said to Jack, in a low tone:

"Jack, you know what I _have_ been--can I ever become worthy of her?"

And Jack answered, promptly:

"God bless you, Tom, you are worthy now!"

"Thank you, Jack--if you believe!"

Then he went over to Fanny. 

"I will go, " was all he said. 

It was a great wonder to both Jack and his sister how Tom could have gotready for the journey on so short a notice; but one day, more than ayear afterward, Tom said to Jack:

"Old friend, I'm not what I was, I hope. Ever since I first saw Fanny onthe road to Ten Mile Gulch, I have tried to live differently. I hope Iam better, for she said last night that she would take me for better orworse. "

And Jack wondered no more. 

[Illustration]

CAPTAIN SAM'S CHANGE. 

"Well, there's nothin' to do, but to hev faith, an' keep a-tryin'. "

The speaker was old Mrs. Simmons, boarding-house keeper, and resident ofa certain town on the Ohio River. The prime cause of her remark wasCaptain Sam Toppie, of the steamboat Queen Ann. 

Captain Sam had stopped with Mrs. Simmons every time the Queen Ann laidup for repairs, and he was so genial, frank and manly, that he had founda warm spot in the good old lady's heart. 

But one thing marred the otherwise perfect happiness of Mrs. Simmonswhen in Captain Sam's society, and that was what she styled his "lostcondition. " For Mrs. Simmons was a consistent, conscientious Methodist, while Captain Sam was--well, he was a Western steamboat captain. 

This useful class of gentlemen are in high repute among shippers andbarkeepers, and receive many handsome compliments from the daily papersalong the line of the Western rivers; but, somehow, the religious Pressis entirely silent about them, nor have we ever seen of any specialmission having been sent to them. 

Captain Sam was a good specimen of the fraternity--good-looking, good-natured, quick-witted, prompt, and faithful, as well asquick-tempered, profane, and perpetually thirsty. To carry a full load, put his boat through in time, and always drink up to his peg, were hiscardinal principles, and he faithfully lived up to them. 

Of the fair sex he was a most devoted admirer, and if he had notpossessed a great deal of modesty, for a steamboat captain, he couldhave named two or three score of young women who thought almost as muchof him as the worthy boarding-house keeper did. 

Good Mrs. Simmons had, to use her own language, "kerried him before theLord, and wrastled for him;" but it was very evident, from Sam's walkand conversation, that his case had not yet been adjudicated accordingto Mrs. Simmons's liking. 

He still had occasional difficulties with the hat-stand and stairwayafter coming home late at night; his breath, though generally odorous, seemed to grieve Mrs. Simmons's olfactories, and his conversation, asheard through his open door in Summer, was thickly seasoned withexpressions far more Scriptural than reverential. 

One Christmas, the old lady presented to the captain a handsome Bible, with his name stamped in large gilt letters on the cover. He was sodelighted and so proud of his present, that he straightway wrapped it inmany folds of paper to prevent its being soiled, and then stowed itneatly away in the Queen Ann's safe, for secure keeping. 

When he told Mrs. Simmons what he had done, she sighed deeply; but fullyalive to the importance of the case, promised him a common one, not toogood to read daily. 

"Daily! Bless you, Mrs. Simmons! Why, I hardly have time to look in thepaper, and see who's gone up, and who's gone down, and who's been beat. "

"But your better part, cap'en?" pleaded the old lady. 

"I--I don't know, my good woman--hard to find it, I guess--the hull lotaverages purty low. "

"But, cap'en, " she continued, "don't you feel your need of a change?"

"Not from the Queen Ann, ma'am--she only needs bigger engines--"

"Change of heart, I mean, cap'en, " interrupted Mrs. Simmons. "Don't youfeel your need of religion?"

"Ha! ha!" roared Captain Sam; "the idea of a steamboat captain withreligion! Why, bless your dear, innocent, old soul, the fust time hewanted to wood up in a hurry, his religion would git, quicker'nlightnin'. The only steamboatman I ever knowed in the meetin'-house linewent up for seven year for settin' fire to his own boat to git theinsurance. "

Mrs. Simmons could not recall at the moment the remembrance of any piouscaptain, so she ceased laboring with Captain Sam. But when he went out, she placed on his table a tract, entitled "The Furnace Seven TimesHeated, " which tract the captain considerately handed to his engineer, supposing it to be a circular on intensified caloric. 

Year after year the captain laid up for repairs, and put up with Mrs. Simmons. Year after year he was jolly, genial, chivalrous, generous, but--not what good Mrs. Simmons earnestly wanted him to be. 

He would buy tickets to all the church fairs, give free passages to allpreachers recommended by Mrs. Simmons, and on Sunday morning he wouldrespectfully escort the old lady as far as the church-door. 

On one occasion, when Mrs. Simmons's church building was struck bylightning, a deacon dropped in with a subscription-paper, while thecaptain was in. The generous steamboatman immediately put himself downfor fifty dollars; and although he improved the occasion to condemnseverely the meanness of certain holy people, and though his languageseemed to create an atmosphere which must certainly melt the money--forthose were specie days--Mrs. Simmons declared to herself that "hecouldn't be fur from the kingdom when his heart was so little set onMammon as that. "

"He's too good for Satan--the Lord _must_ hev him, " thought the good oldlady. 

Once again the Queen Ann needed repairing, and again the captain foundhimself at his old boarding-place. 

Good Mrs. Simmons surveyed him tenderly through her glasses, andinstantly saw there had something unusual happened. Could it be--oh! ifit only _could_ be--that he had put off the old man, which is sin! Shelonged to ask him, yet, with a woman's natural delicacy, she determinedto find out without direct questioning. 

"Good season, cap'en?" she inquired. 

"A No. 1, ma'am--positively first-class, " replied the captain. 

"Hed good health--no ager?" she continued. 

"Never was better, my dear woman--healthy right to the top notch, " heanswered. 

"It must be, " said good Mrs. Simmons, to herself--"it can't be nothin'else. Bless the Lord!"

This pious sentiment she followed up by a hymn, whose irregularities oftime and tune were fully atoned for by the spirit with which she sung. Aknock at the door interrupted her. 

"Come in!" she cried. 

Captain Sam entered, and laid a good-sized, flat flask on the table, saying:

"I've just been unpackin', an' I found this; p'r'aps you ken use it furcookin'. It's no use to me; I've sworn off drinkin'. "

And before the astonished lady could say a word, he was gone. 

But the good soul could endure the suspense no longer. She hurried tothe door, and cried:

"Cap'en!"

"That's me, " answered Captain Sam, returning. 

"Cap'en, " said Mrs. Simmons, in a voice in which solemnity andexcitement struggled for the mastery, "hez the Lord sent His angel untoyou?"

"He hez, " replied the captain, in a very decided tone, and abruptlyturned, and hurried to his own room. 

"Bless the Lord, O my soul!" almost shouted Mrs. Simmons, in herecstacy. "We musn't worry them that's weak in the faith, but I sha'n'tbe satisfied till I hear him tell his experience. Oh, _what_ a blessedthing to relate at prayer-meetin' to-night!"

There was, indeed, a rattling of dry bones at the prayer-meeting thatnight, for it was the first time in the history of the church that theconversion of a steamboat captain had been reported. 

On returning home from the meeting, additional proof awaited the happyold saint. The captain was in his room--in his room at nine o'clock inthe evening! She had known the captain for years, but he had neverbefore got in so early. There could be no doubt about it, though--therehe was, softly whistling. 

"I'd rather hear him whistlin' Windham or Boylston, " thought Mrs. Simmons; "that tune don't fit any hymn _I_ know. P'r'aps, though, theysing it in some of them churches up to Cincinnaty, " she charitablycontinued. 

"Cap'en, " said she, at breakfast, next morning, when the other guestshad departed, "is your mind at peace?"

"Peace?" echoed the captain--"peaceful as the Ohio at low water. "

The captain's simile was not so Scriptural as the old lady could havedesired, but she remembered that he was but a young convert, and thatholy conversation was a matter of gradual attainment. So, simply andpiously making the best of it, she fervently exclaimed:

"That it may ever be thus is my earnest prayer, cap'en. "

"Amen to that, " said Captain Sam, very heartily, upsetting the chair inhis haste to get out of the room. 

For several days Mrs. Simmons lived in a state of bliss unknown toboarding-house keepers, whose joys come only from a sense of provisionspurchased cheaply and paying boarders secured. 

From the kitchen, the dining-room, or wherever she was, issued sounds ofpraise and devotion, intoned to some familiar church melody. Scrubbingthe kitchen-floor dampened not her ardor, and even the fatefulwashing-day produced no visible effects on her spirits. From over thebread-pan she sent exultant strains to echo through the house, and herfists vigorously marked time in the yielding dough. From the third-storywindow, as she hung out the bed-linen to air, her holy notes fell on theears of passing teamsters, and caused them to cast wondering glancesupward. What was the heat of the kitchen-stove to her, now that CaptainSam was insured against flames eternal? What, now, was even money, sinceCaptain Sam had laid up his treasures above?

And the captain's presence, which had always comforted her, was now aperpetual blessing. Always pleasant, kind, and courteous, as of old, butoh, so different!

All the coal-scuttles and water-pails in the house might occupy thestairway at night, but the captain could safely thread his way amongthem. 

No longer did she hurry past his door, with her fingers ready, at theslightest alarm, to act as compressors to her ears; no, the captain'slanguage, though not exactly religious, was eminently proper. 

He was at home so much evenings, that his lamp consumed more oil in aweek than it used to in months; but the old lady cheerfully refilled it, and complained not that the captain's goodness was costly. 

The captain brought home a book or two daily, and left them in his room, seeing which, his self-denying hostess carried up the two flights ofstairs her own copies of "Clarke's Commentaries, " "The Saints' Best, ""Joy's Exercises, " and "Morning and Night Watches, " and arranged themneatly on his table. 

Finally, after a few days, Captain Sam seemed to have something tosay--something which his usual power of speech was scarcely equal to. Mrs. Simmons gave him every opportunity. 

At last, when he ejaculated, "Mrs. Simmons, " just as she was carryingher beloved glass preserve-dish to its place in the parlor-closet, shewas so excited that she dropped the brittle treasure, and uttered not amoan over the fragments. 

"Mrs. Simmons, I've made up my mind to lead an entirely new life, " saidthe captain, gravely. 

"It's what I've been hopin' fur years an' years, cap'en, " responded thehappy old lady. 

"Hev you, though? God bless your motherly old soul, " said the captain, warmly. "Well, I've turned over a new leaf, and it don't git turned backagain. "

"That's right, " said Mrs. Simmons, with a happy tear under eachspectacle-glass. "Fight the good fight, cap'en. "

"Just my little game, " continued the captain. "'Tain't ev'ry day that aman ken find an angel willin' to look out fur him, Mrs. Simmons. "

"An angel! Oh, cap'en, how richly blessed you hev been!" sobbed Mrs. Simmons. "Many's the one that hez prayed all their lives long for thecomin' of a good sperrit to guide 'em. "

"Well, _I've_ got one, sure pop, " continued Captain Sam; "and happyain't any kind of a name fur what I be all the time now. "

"Bless you!" said the good woman, wringing the captain's hand fervidly. "But you'll hev times of trouble an' doubt, off an' on. "

"Is that so?" asked the captain, thoughtfully. 

"Yes, " continued Mrs. Simmons; "but don't be afeard; ev'ry thing'll comeright in the end. I know--I've been through it all. "

"That's so, " said the captain, "you hev that. Well, now, would you mindinterdoosin' me to your minister?"

"Mind!" said the good old lady. "I've been a-dyin' to do it ever sinceyou come. I've told him about it, and he's ez glad fur you ez I am. "

"Oh!" said the captain, looking a little confused, "you suspected it, did you?"

"From the very minute you fust kem, " replied Mrs. Simmons; "I know thesigns. "

"Well, " said the captain, "might ez well see him fust as last then, Ireckon. "

"I'll get ready right away, " said Mrs. Simmons. And away she hurried, leaving the captain greatly puzzled. 

The old lady put on her newest bombazine dress--all this happened tenyears ago, ladies--and a hat to match. 

Never before had these articles of dress been seen by the irreligiouslight of a weekday; the day seemed fully as holy as an ordinary Sabbath. 

They attracted considerable attention, in their good clothes and solemnfaces, and finally, as they stood on the parson's doorstep, two of thecaptain's own deckhands saw him, and straightway drank themselves into astate of beastly intoxication in trying to decide what the captain couldwant of a preacher. 

The minister entered, cordially greeted Mrs. Simmons, and expressed hispleasure at forming the captain's acquaintance. 

"Parson, " said the captain, in trembling accents--"don't go away, Mrs. Simmons--parson, my good friend here tells me you know all about mycase; now the question is, how soon can you do the business?"

The reverend gentleman shivered a little at hearing the word "business"applied to holy things, but replied, in excellent temper:

"The next opportunity will occur on the first Sabbath of the comingmonth, and I shall be truly delighted to gather into our fold one whosemany worthy qualities have been made known to us by our dearly belovedsister Simmons. And let me further remind you that there is joy inheaven over one sinner that repenteth, and that therefore--"

"Just so, parson, " interrupted the captain, wincing a little, andlooking exceedingly puzzled--"just so; but ain't thar no day but Sundayfor a man to be married--"

"Married!" ejaculated the minister, looking inquiringly at Mrs. Simmons. 

"Married!" screamed the old lady, staring wildly at thecaptain--"married! Oh, what shall I do? I thought you'd experienced achange! And I've told everybody about it!"

The captain burst into a laugh, which made the minister's chandeliersrattle, and the holy man himself, seeing through the mistake, heartilyjoined the captain. 

But poor Mrs. Simmons burst into an agony of tears. 

"My dear, good old friend, " said the captain, tenderly putting his armabout her, "I'm very sorry you have been disappointed; but one thing ata time, you know. When you see my angel, you'll think I'm in a fair wayto be an angel myself some day, I guess. Annie's her name--AnnieMay--an' I've named the boat after her. Don't take on so, an' I'll showyou the old boat, new painted, an' the name Annie May stuck on whereverthere's a chance. "

But the good old woman only wrung her hands, and exclaimed:

"Thar's a lovely experience completely spiled--completely spiled!"

At length she was quieted and escorted home, and a few days afterwardappeared, in smiles and the new bombazine, at the captain's wedding. 

The bride, a motherless girl, speedily adopted Mrs. Simmons as mother, and made many happy hours for the old lady; but that venerable and piousperson is frequently heard to say to herself, in periods ofthoughtfulness:

"A lovely experience completely spiled!"

[Illustration: THE CAPTAIN BURST INTO A LAUGH, WHICH MADE THEMINISTER'S CHANDELIERS RATTLE. ]

MISS FEWNE'S LAST CONQUEST. 

How many conquests Mabel Fewne had made since she had entered society noone was able to tell. Perhaps the conqueror herself kept some record ofthe havoc she had worked, but if she did, no one but herself ever sawit. Even such of her rivals as were envious admitted that Miss Fewne'svictims could be counted by dozens, while the men who came under theinfluence of that charming young lady were wont to compute theirfellow-sufferers by the hundred. It mattered not where Miss Fewne spenther time: whether she enjoyed the season in New York or Washington, Baltimore or Boston, she found that climatic surroundings did not in theleast change the conduct of men toward her. In what her attractionsespecially consisted, her critics and admirers were not all agreed. Palette, the artist, who was among her earliest victims, said she wasthe embodiment of all ideal harmonies; while old Coupon, who at sixtyoffered her himself and his property, declared in confidence to anotherunfortunate that what took him was her solid sense. At least one youngman, who thought himself a poet, fell in love with her for what hecalled the golden foam of her hair; a theological student went intopious ecstasy (and subsequent dejection) over the spiritual light of hereyes. The habitual pose of her pretty fingers accounted for the awkwardattentions of at least a score of young men, and the piquancy of hermanner attracted, to their certain detriment, all the professional beauswho met her. And yet, a clear-headed literary Bostonian declared thatshe was better read than some of his distinguished _confreres_; while amember of Congress excused himself for monopolizing her for an entirehalf-hour, at an evening party, by saying that Miss Fewne talkedpolitics so sensibly, that for the first time in his life he had learnedhow much he himself knew. As for the ladies, some said any one could getas much admiration as Mabel Fewne if they could dress as expensively;others said she was so skillful a flirt that no man could see throughher wily ways; two or three inclined to the theory of personalmagnetism; while a few brave women said that Mabel was so pretty andtasteful, and modest and sensible and sweet, that men would be idiots ifthey didn't fall in love with her at sight. 

But one season came in which those who envied and feared Mabel were leftin peace, for that young lady determined to spend the Winter with hersister, who was the wife of a military officer stationed at Smithton, inthe Far West. Smithton was a small town, but a pleasant one; it had arailroad and mines; a government land office was established there, aswas the State Government also; trading was incessant, money was plenty, so men of wit and culture came there to pay their respects to thealmighty dollar; and as there were nearly two-score of refined ladies inthe town, society was delightful to the fullest extent of its existence. And Mabel Fewne enjoyed it intensely; the change of air and of scenegave stimulus to her spirits and new grace to her form and features, sothat she soon had at her feet all the unmarried men in Smithton, whilemany sober Benedicts admired as much as they could safely do withouttransferring their allegiance. 

Smithton was not inhabited exclusively by people of energy and culture. New settlements, like all other things new, powerfully attractincapables, and Smithton was no excuse to the rule. In one portion ofit, yclept "the End, " were gathered many characters more odd thaninteresting. Their local habitations seemed to be the liquor-shops whichfairly filled that portion of the town. About the doors of these shopsthe "Enders" were most frequently seen. If one of them chanced to strayinto the business street of the town, he seemed as greatly confused andtroubled as a lost boy. In his own quarter, however, and among his ownkind, the Ender displayed a composure which was simply superb. No onecould pass through the End by daylight without seeing many of theinhabitants thereof leaning against fences, trees, buildings, and suchother objects as could sustain without assistance the weight of thehuman frame. From these points of support the Enders would contemplatewhatever was transpiring about them, with that immobility of countenancewhich characterizes the finished tourist and the North American Indian. There were occasions when these self-possessed beings assumed erectpositions and manifested ordinary human interest. One of these was thebreaking out of a fight between either men or animals; another was thepassing of a lady of either handsome face or showy dress. So it happenedthat, when pretty, well-dressed Mabel Fewne was enjoying a drive withone of her admirers, there was quite a stir among such Enders as chancedto see her. The venders of the beverages for which the Enders spent mostof their money noticed that, upon that particular afternoon, an unusualproportion of their customers stood at the bar with no assistance fromthe bar itself, that some spirit was manifest in their walk andconversation, and yet they were less than usual inclined to bequarrelsome. So great was the excitement caused by Miss Fewne'sappearance, that one Ender was heard to ask another who she was--anexhibition of curiosity very unusual in that part of the town. Evenmore: One member of that apparently hopeless gang was known to wash hisface and hands, purchase a suit of cheap--but new and clean--clothing, and take an eastern-bound train, presumably to appear among respectablepeople he had known during some earlier period of his existence. 

On the evening of the next day a delightful little party was enjoyed bythe well-to-do inhabitants of Smithton. New as was the town, theparlors of Mrs. General Wader (her husband was something for the railwaycompany) were handsomely furnished, the ladies were elaborately dressed, the gentlemen lacked not one of the funereal garments which menelsewhere wear to evening parties, and stupid people were noticeablyrarer than, in similar social gatherings, in older communities. MabelFewne was there, and as human nature is the same at Smithton as in theEast, she was the belle of the evening. She entered the room on the armof her brother-in-law, and that warrior's height, breadth, bronzedcountenance and severe uniform, made all the more striking the figurewhich, clad apparently in a pale blue cloud, edged with silver andcrowned with gold, floated beside him. Men crowded about her at once, and the other ladies present had almost undisturbed opportunity in whichto converse with each other. 

At the End there was likewise a social gathering. The place was Drake'ssaloon, and the guests were self-invited. Their toilets, though unusual, scarcely require description, and a list of their diversions would notinterest people of taste Refreshments were as plentiful as at Mrs. Wader's, and, after the manner of refreshments everywhere, they caused ageneral unbending of spirits. Not all the effects were pleasing tocontemplate. One of them was a pistol-shot, which, missing the man forwhom it was intended, struck a person called Baggs, and remarkable onlyfor general worthlessness. Baggs had a physical system of theconventional type, however, and the bullet caused some disarrangement soradical in its nature, that Baggs was soon stretched upon the floor ofthe saloon, with a face much whiter than he usually wore. The barkeeperpoured out a glass of brandy, and passed it over the bar, but thewounded man declined it; he also rejected a box of pills which wasproffered. An Ender, who claimed to have been a physician, stooped overthe victim, felt his pulse, and remarked:

"Baggs, you're a goner. "

"I know it, " said Baggs; "and I want to be prayed for. "

The barkeeper looked puzzled. He was a public-spirited man, whose heartand pocket were open to people in real trouble, but for prayers he hadnever been asked before, and, was entirely destitute of them. He feltrelieved when one of his customers--a leaden-visaged man, with bulbousnose and a bad temper--advanced toward the wounded man, raised one hand, threw his head back a trifle, and exclaimed:

"Once in grace, always in grace. I've _been_ there, I know. Let uspray. "

The victim waived his hand impatiently, and faintly exclaimed:

"_You_ won't do; somebody that's better acquainted with God than _you_are must do it. "

"But, Baggs, " reasoned the barkeeper, "perhaps he's been apreacher--you'd better not throw away a chance. "

"Don't care if he has, " whispered Baggs; "he don't look like any of theprayin' people mother used to know. "

The would-be petitioner took his rebuff considerably to heart, andbegan, in a low and rapid voice, an argument with himself upon theduration of the state of grace. The Enders listened but indifferently, however; the dying man was more interesting to them than livingquestions, for he had no capacity for annoyance. The barkeeper scratchedhis head and pinched his brow, but, gaining no idea thereby, he asked:

"Do _you_ know the right man, Baggs?"

"Not here, I don't, " gasped the sufferer; "not the right _man_. "

The emphasis on the last word was not unheeded by the bystanders; theylooked at each other with as much astonishment as Enders were capable ofdisplaying, and thrust their hands deep into the pockets of theirpantaloons, in token of their inability to handle the case. Baggs spokeagain. 

"I wish mother was here!" he said. "_She'd_ know just to say and how tosay it. "

"She's too far away; leastways, I suppose she is, " said the barkeeper. 

"I know it, " whispered the wounded man; "an' yet a woman--"

Baggs looked inquiringly, appealingly about him, but seemed unable tofinish his sentence. His glance finally rested upon Brownie, a man ascharacteristic as himself, but at times displaying rather more heartthan was common among Enders. Brownie obeyed the summons, and stoopedbeside Baggs. The bystanders noticed that there followed somewhispering, at times shame-faced, and then in the agony of earnestnesson the part of Baggs, and replied to by Brownie with averted face andeyes gazing into nowhere. 

Finally Brownie arose with an un-Ender-like decision, and left thesaloon. No one else said much, but there seemed to circulate animpression that Baggs was consuming more time than was customary at theEnd. 

Very different was the scene in Mrs. Wader's parlor; instead of a dyingman surrounded by uncouth beings, there stood a beautiful woman, radiantwith health and animation; while about her stood a throng ofwell-dressed gentlemen, some of them handsome, all of them smart, andeach one craving a smile, a word, or a look. Suddenly the pompous voiceof General Wader arose:

"Most astonishing thing I ever heard of, " said he. "An Ender has theimpudence to ask to see Miss Fewne!"

"An Ender?" exclaimed the lady, her pretty lips parting with surprise. 

"Yes, and he declares you could not have the heart to say no, if youknew his story. "

"Is it possible, Miss Fewne, " asked one admirer, "that your cruelty canhave driven any one to have become an Ender?"

Mabel's eyes seemed to glance inward, and she made no reply. Shehonestly believed she had never knowingly encouraged a man to become hervictim; yet she had heard of men doing very silly things when theythought themselves disappointed in love. She cast a look of timidinquiry at her host. 

"Oh, perfectly safe, if you like, " said the general. "The fellow is atthe door, and several of our guests are in the hall. "

Miss Fewne looked serious, and hurried to the door. She saw a man inshabby clothing and with unkempt beard and hair, yet with a notunpleasing expression. 

"Madame, " said he, "I'm a loafer, but I've been a gentleman, and I knowbetter than to intrude without a good cause. The cause is a dying man. He's as rough and worthless as I am, but all the roughness has gone outof him, just now, and he's thinking about his mother and a sweetheart heused to have. He wants some one to pray for him--some one as unlikehimself and his associates as possible. He cried for his mother--then hewhispered to me that he had seen, here in Smithton, a lady that lookedlike an angel--seen her driving only to-day. He meant you. He isn'tpretty; but, when a _dying_ man says a lady is an angel, he means whathe says. "

Two or three moments later Miss Fewne, with a very pale face, and withher brother-in-law as escort, was following Brownie. The door of thesaloon was thrown open, and when the Enders saw who was followingBrownie they cowered and fell back as if a sheriff with his _posse_ hadappeared. The lady looked quickly about her, until her eye rested uponthe figure of the wounded man; him she approached, and as she lookeddown her lip began to tremble. 

"I didn't mean it, " whispered Baggs, self-depreciation and pain strivingfor the possession of his face. "If I hadn't have been a-goin', Ishouldn't have thought of such a thing, but dyin' takes away one'sreg'lar senses. It's not my fault, ma'am, but when I thought about whatmother used to say about heaven, _you_ came into my mind. I felt as if Iwas insultin' you just by thinkin' about you--a feller such as me to bethinking about such a lady. I tried to see mother an' Liz, mysweetheart that was, just as I've seen 'em when my eyes was shut, but Icouldn't see nothin' but you, the way you looked goin' along that roadand makin' the End look bright. I'd shoot myself for the imperdence ofthe thing if I was goin' to get well again, but I ain't. Ther needs tobe a word said for me by somebody--somebody that don't chaw, nor drink, nor swear--somebody that'll catch God's eye if He happens to be lookin'down--and I never saw that kind of a person in Smithton till to-day. "

Mabel stood speechless, with a tear in each eye. 

"Don't, if you don't think best, " continued Baggs. "I'd rather go to--tot'other place than bother a lady. Don't speak a word, if you don't wantto; but mebbe you'll _think_ the least thing? God _can't_ refuse _you_. But if you think t'other place is best for me, all right. "

The fright, the sense of strangeness, were slowly departing from Mabel, and as she recovered herself her heart seemed to come into her face andeyes. 

"Ev'rybody about here is rough, or dirty, or mean, or rich, or proud, orsomethin', " continued the dying man, in a thin yet earnest voice. "It'sall as good as I deserve; but my heart's ached sometimes to look atsomebody that would keep me from b'leevin' that ev'rything was black an'awful. And I've seen her. Can I just touch my finger to your dress? I'veheard mother read how that somebody in the Old Country was once made allright by just touchin' the clothes Christ had on. "

In his earnestness, the wretched man had raised himself upon one elbow, and out of his face had departed every expression but one of pitifulpleading. Still Mabel could not speak; but, bending slightly forward, she extended one of her slender, dainty hands toward the one which Baggshad raised in his appeal. 

"White--shining--good--all right, " he murmured. Then all of Baggs whichfell back upon the floor was clay. 

 * * * * *

With the prudence of a conqueror, who knows when the full extent of hispowers has been reached, Mabel Fewne married within six months. Thehappy man was not a new conquest, but an old victim, who was willfullypardoned with such skill, that he never doubted that his acceptance tofavor was the result of the renewal of his homage. 

[Illustration]

MARKSON'S HOUSE. 

Raines is my name--Joseph Raines. I am a house-builder by profession, and as I do not often see my writings in print, except as prepaidadvertisements, I consider this a good opportunity to say to the publicin general that I can build as good a house for a given sum of money asany other builder, and that I am a square man to deal with. I am awareof the fact that both of these assertions have been made by many otherpersons about themselves; but to prove their trustworthiness whenuttered by me, the public needs only to give me a trial. (In justice toother builders, I must admit they can use even this last statement ofmine with perfect safety for the present, and with prospective profit ifthey get a contract to build a house. )

I suppose it will be considered very presumptuous in me to attempt towrite a story, for, while some professions seem relatives of literature, I freely admit that there is no carpenter's tool which prepares one tohandle a pen. To be sure, I have read some stories which, it seemed tome, could have been improved by the judicious use of a handsaw, had thatextremely radical tool been able to work aesthetically as it doespractically; and while I have read certain other stories, and essays, and poems, I have been tormented by an intense desire to apply to them asmoothing-plane, a pair of compasses, or a square, or even to so farinterfere with their arrangement as to cut a window-hole or two, and anoccasional ventilator. Still, admitting that the carpenter should stickto his bench--or to his office or carriage, if he is a master builder, as I am--I must yet insist that there are occasions when a man isabsolutely compelled to handle tools to which he is not accustomed. Doctor Buzzle, my own revered pastor, established this principle firmlyin my mind one day by means of a mild rebuke, administered on theoccasion of my volunteering to repair some old chairs which had comedown to him through several generations. The doctor was at work uponthem himself, and although he seemed to regard the very chips andsawdust--even such as found a way into his eyes--with a reverentaffection, he was certainly ruining good material in a shocking manner. But when I proffered my assistance, he replied:

"Thank you, Joseph; but--they wouldn't be the same chairs if any oneelse touched them. "

I feel similarly about the matter of my story--perhaps you willunderstand why as you read it. 

When I had finished my apprenticeship, people seemed to like me, andsome of our principal men advised me to stay at Bartley, my nativevillage--it was so near the city, they said, and would soon fill up withcity people, who would want villas and cottages built. So I staid, andbetween small jobs of repairing, and contracts to build fences, stablesand carriage-houses, I managed to keep myself busy, and to save a littlemoney after I had paid my bills. 

One day it was understood that a gentleman from the city had bought avilla site overlooking the town, and intended to build very soon. Iimmediately wrote him a note, saying I would be glad to see his plansand make an estimate; and in the course of time the plans were sent me, and I am happy to say that I under-estimated every one, even my own oldemployer. 

Then the gentleman--Markson his name was--drove out to see me, and heput me through a severe course of questions, until I wondered if he wasnot some distinguished architect. But he wasn't--he was ashipping-merchant. It's certainly astonishing how smart some of thosecity fellows are about everything. 

The upshot was, he gave me the contract, and a very pretty one it was:ten thousand three hundred and forty dollars. To be sure, he made mealter the specifications so that the sills should be of stuff ten inchessquare, instead of the thin stuff we usually use for the sills ofballoon-frame houses, such as his was to be; and though the alterationwould add quite a few dollars to the cost of materials, I did not dareto add a cent to my estimate, for fear of losing the contract. Besides--though, of course, I did not intend to do so dishonorable athing--I knew that I could easily make up the difference by using cheappaint instead of good English lead for priming, or in either one of adozen other ways; builders have such tricks, just as ministers andmanufacturers and railroadmen do. 

I felt considerably stuck up at getting Markson's house to build, and myfriends said I had a perfect right to feel so, for no house so costlyhad been built at Bartley for several years. 

So anxious were my friends that I should make a first-class job of it, that they all dropped in to discuss the plan with me, and to give mesome advice, until--thanks to their thoughtful kindness--my head wouldhave been in a muddle had the contemplated structure been a cheap barninstead of a costly villa. 

But, by a careful review of the original plan every night after myfriends departed, and a thoughtful study of it each morning before goingto work, I succeeded in completing it according to the ideas of the onlytwo persons really concerned--I refer to Mr. Markson and myself. 

Admitting in advance that there is in the house-building business verylittle that teaches a man to be a literary critic, I must neverthelesssay that many poets of ancient and modern times might have found thebuilding of a house a far more inspiring theme than some upon which theyhave written, and even a more respectable one than certain others whichsome distinguished rhymers have unfortunately selected. 

I have always wondered why, after Mr. Longfellow wrote "The Building ofa Ship, " some one did not exercise his muse upon a house. I neverattempted poetry myself, except upon my first baby, and even _those_verses I transcribed with my left hand, so they might not betray me tothe editor of the Bartley _Conservator_, to whom I sent them, and bywhom they were published. 

I say I never attempted poetry-writing save once; but sometimes when Iam working on a house, and think of all that must transpire withinit--of the precious ones who will escape, no matter how strongly I buildthe walls; of the destroyer who will get in, in spite of the improvedlocks I put on all my houses; of the darkness which cannot at times bedispelled, no matter how large the windows, nor how perfect the glassmay be (I am very particular about the glass I put in); of theoccasional joys which seem meet for heavenly mansions not built bycontract; of the unseen heroisms greater than any that men have evercheered, and the conquests in comparison with which the achievements ofmighty kings are only as splintery hemlock to Georgia pine--when I thinkof all this, I am so lifted above all that is prosaic andmatter-of-fact, that I am likely even to forget that I am working bycontract instead of by the day. 

Besides, Markson's house was my first job on a residence, and it was alarge one, and I was young, and full of what I fancied were originalideas of taste and effect; and as I was unmarried, and without anyspecial lady friend, I was completely absorbed in Markson's house. 

How it would look when it was finished; what views it would command;whether its architectural style was not rather subdued, considering thepicturesque old hemlocks which stood near by; what particular shade ofcolor would be effective alike to the distant observer and to those whostood close by when the light reached it only through the green of thehemlock; just what color and blending of slate to select, so thesteep-pitched roof should not impart a sombre effect to the whole house;how much money I would make on it (for this is a matter of utteruncertainty until your work is done, and you know what you've paid outand what you get); whether Markson could influence his friends in myfavor; what sort of a family he had, and whether they were worthy of theextra pains I was taking on their house--these and a thousand otherwonderings and reveries kept possession of my mind; while the naturalpride and hope and confidence of a young man turned to sweet music thesound of saw and hammer and trowel, and even translated the rustling ofpine shavings with hopeful whispers. 

The foundations had been laid, and the sills placed in position, and Iwas expecting to go on with the work as soon as Markson himself hadinspected the sills--this, he said, he wished to do before anythingfurther was done; and, so that he might not have any fault to find withthem, I had them sawn to order, and made half an inch larger each way, so they couldn't possibly shrink before he could measure them. 

The night before he was to come up and examine them, I was struck at thesupper-table by the idea that perhaps, from one of the westernchamber-windows, there might be seen the river which lay, between thehills, a couple of miles beyond. As the moon was up and full, I couldnot rest until I had ascertained whether I was right or wrong; so I puta twenty-foot tapeline in my pocket, and hurried off to the hill wherethe house was to stand. 

Foundation three feet, height of parlor ceilings twelve feet, allow forfloors two feet more, made the chamber-floor seventeen feet above thelevel of the ground. 

Climbing one of the hemlocks which I thought must be in line with theriver and the window, I dropped my line until I had unrolled seventeenfeet, and then ascended until the end of the line just touched theground. I found I was right in my supposition; and in the clear, mellowlight of the moon the river, the hills and valleys, woods, fields, orchards, houses and rocks (the latter ugly enough by daylight, andutterly useless for building purposes) made a picture which set methinking of a great many exquisite things entirely out of thehousebuilding line. 

I might have stared till the moon went down, for when I've nothing elseto do I dearly enjoy dreaming with my eyes open; but I heard a rustlingin the leaves a little way off, and then I heard footsteps, and then, looking downward, I saw a man come up the path, and stop under the treein which I was. 

Of course I wondered what he wanted; I should have done so, even if Ihad had no business there myself; but under the circumstances, I becamevery much excited. 

Who could it be? Perhaps some rival builder, come to take revenge bysetting my lumber afire! I would go down and reason with him. But, waita moment; if he _has_ come for that purpose, he may make thingsuncomfortable for me before I reach the ground. And if he sets thelumber afire, and it catches the tree I am in, as it will certainly do, I will be--

There is no knowing what sort of a quandary I might not have got into ifthe man had not stepped out into the moonlight, and up on the sills, andshown himself to be--Mr. Markson. 

"Well, " I thought, "you _are_ the most particular man I ever knew--andthe most anxious! I don't know, though--it's natural enough; if _I_can't keep away from this house, it's not strange that _he_ should wantto see all of it he can. It's natural enough, and it does him credit. "

But Mr. Markson's next action was neither natural nor to his credit. Hetook off his traveling shawl, and disclosed a carpenter's brace; thisand the shawl he laid on the ground, and then he examined the sills atthe corners, where they were joined. 

They were only half joined, as we say in the trade--that is, the ends ofeach piece of timber were sawn half through and the partially detachedportions cut out, so that the ends lapped over each other. 

Well, Mr. Markson hastily stacked up bricks and boards to the height ofthe foundation, and then made a similar stack at the other end of thefoundation-wall, and then he rolled one of the sills over on these twosupports, so it was bottom side up. Then he fitted a bit--a good wideone, an inch and a quarter, at least, I should say--to the brace, andthen commenced boring a hole in the sill. 

I was astonished, but not too much so to be angry. That piece of timberwas mine; Mr. Markson had not paid me a cent yet, and was not to do sountil the next morning, after examining the foundations and sills. 

I had heard of such tricks before; my old employer had had men secretlyinjure a building, so as to claim it was not built according to contractwhen the money came due, but none of them did it so early in the courseof the business. 

Within a few seconds my opinion of Mr. Markson's smartness alteredgreatly, and so did my opinion of human nature in general. I would havesadly, but promptly sold out my contract with Mr. Markson for the priceof a ticket for the West, and I should have taken the first train. 

As he bored that hole I could see just how all the other builders intown would look when I had to take the law on Markson, and how all myfriends would come and tell me I ought to have insisted on a payment inadvance. 

But, after several sorrowful moments had elapsed, I commenced to think, and I soon made up my mind what I would do. I would _not_ descend fromthe tree while he was there--I have too much respect for my person toput it at the mercy of an ill-disposed individual. But as soon as heleft the place, I would hasten to the ground, follow him, and demand anexplanation. He might be armed, but I was, too--there were hardcharacters at Bartley, and they knew my pocket-book was sometimes full. 

Hole after hole that man bored; he made one join another until he had astring of them ten inches long, or thereabouts; then he began anotherstring, right beside the first, and then another. 

I saw that his bit went but six or seven inches deep, so that it didnot pierce the sill, and I could almost believe him in league with somerival builder to ruin my reputation by turning over, next morning, a logapparently sound, and showing it to be full of holes. 

I didn't feel any better-natured, either, when I noticed that he hadcarefully put a newspaper under where he was boring to catch all thechips, and destroy any idea of the mischief having been done wilfullyand on the spot; but I determined I would follow him, and secure thatpaper of chips as evidence. 

Suddenly he stopped boring, and took a chisel from somewhere about hisclothes, and he soon chiseled that honeycombed spot into a single hole, about five inches by ten, and six or seven inches deep. 

It slowly dawned over me that perhaps his purpose wasn't malicious, after all; and by the time I had reasoned the matter he helped me to aconclusion by taking from his pocket a little flat package, which he putinto the hole. 

It looked as if it might be papers, or something the size of foldedpapers; but it was wrapped in something yellow and shiny--oil skin, probably, to keep it from the damp. Then he drove a few little nailsinside the holes to keep the package from falling out when the sill wasturned over; and then he did something which I never saw mixed withcarpenter-work in my life--he stooped and kissed the package as it layin the hole, and then he knelt on the ground beside the sill, and Icould see by his face upturned in the moonlight, showing his closed eyesand moving lips, that he was praying. 

[Illustration: HE KNELT ON THE GROUND BESIDES THE SILL, AND I COULD SEETHAT HE WAS PRAYING. ]

Up to that moment I had been curious to know what was in that package;but after what I saw then, I never thought of it without wanting toutter a small prayer myself, though I never could decide what would bethe appropriate thing to say, seeing I knew none of the circumstances. Iam very particular not to give recommendations except where I am verysure the person I recommend is all right. 

Well, Markson disappeared a moment or two after, first carefullyreplacing the sill, and carrying away the chips, and I got out of mytree, forgetting all about the view I had discovered; and the unexpectedscene I had looked at ran in my mind so constantly that, during thenight, I dreamed that Markson stood in the hemlock-tree, with a giganticbrace and bit, and bored holes in the hills beside the river, while Ikneeled in the second story window-frame, and kissed my contract withMarkson, and prayed that I might make a hundred thousand dollars out ofit. It is perfectly astonishing what things a sensible man willsometimes dream. 

Next morning I arrived at the building a few minutes before seven, andfound Markson there before me. He expressed himself satisfied witheverything, and paid me then and there a thousand dollars, which was dueon acceptance of the work as far as then completed. 

He hung around all day while we put up the post and studding--probablyto see that the sill was not turned over and his secret disclosed; andit was with this idea that I set the studding first on his particularsill. By night we had the frame so near up, that there was nopossibility of the sill being moved; and then Markson went away. 

He came up often, after that, to see how his house was getting along. Each time he came he would saunter around to that particular sill, andwhen I noticed that he did this, I made some excuse to call the men awayfrom that side of the house. 

Sometimes he brought his family with him, and I scarcely knew whether tobe glad or sorry; for, while his daughter, a handsome, strong, bright, honest, golden-haired girl of fifteen or sixteen, always affected me asif she was a streak of sunshine, and made me hope I should some day havea daughter like her, his wife always affected me unpleasantly. 

I am not a good physiognomist, but I notice most people resemble animalsof some sort, and when I decide on what animal it is, in any particularcase, I judge the person accordingly. 

Now, Mrs. Markson--who was evidently her husband's second wife, for shewas too young to be Helen's mother--was rather handsome and extremelyelegant, but neither manners nor dress could hide a certain tigerishexpression which was always in her face. It was generally inactive, butit was never absent, and the rapidity with which it awoke once or twicewhen she disapproved something which was done or said, made meunderstand why Mr. Markson, who always seemed pleasant and genial withany one else, was quite silent and guarded when his wife was with him. 

Pretty soon the people of Bartley knew all about the Marksons. Howpeople learn all about other people is more than I can explain. _I_never have a chance to know all about my neighbors, for I am kept busyin looking to myself; but if all the energy that is devoted to otherpeople's business in Bartley were expended on house-building, tradewould soon be so dull that I should be longing for a mansion in theskies. 

Everybody in Bartley knew that Helen Markson's mother, who was verybeautiful and lovable, had died years before, and that her stepmotherhad been Mrs. Markson only two or three years; that the second Mrs. Markson had married for money, and that her husband was afraid of her, and would run away from her if it wasn't for Helen; that Mrs. Marksonsometimes got angry, and then she raved like mad, and that it waswearing Mr. Markson's life away; for he was a tender-hearted man, inspite of his smartness. Some even declared that Markson had willed herall his property, and insured his life heavily for her besides, and thatif he died before Helen was married, Helen would be a beggar. 

But none of these things had anything to do with my contract. I workedaway and had good weather, so I lost no time, and at the end of fivemonths I had finished the house, been paid for it, had paid my bills, and made a clear two thousand dollars on the job. I could have made athousand more, without any one being the wiser for it, but I don'tbuild houses in that way--the public will greatly oblige me by cuttingthis out. This money gave me a handsome business start, and having hadno serious losses, nor any houses thrown back upon my hands--(for Ialways make it a point to do a little better than I promise, so folkscan't find fault)--I am now quite well off, and building houses on myown account, to sell; while some of my competitors, who started before Idid, have been through bankruptcy, while some have been too poor to doeven that. 

A few years after building Markson's house, I went with a Southernfriend into a black-walnut speculation. We bought land in the Southwest, cut the timber, got it to market, and made a handsome profit, I am gladto say. This business took me away from home, and kept me for months, but, as I was still without family ties, I did not suffer much during myabsence. Still the old village seemed to take on a kind of motherly airas the stage, with me in it, rattled into town, and I was just droppinginto a pleasant little reverie, when a carriage, which I recognized asMarkson's, dashed down the road, met us, and stopped, while the coachmanshouted:

"Raines's foreman says the old man's coming home to-day. "

He meant me. 

"Reckon his head was purty level, " replied the stage-driver, tossing hishead backward toward me. 

"Mr. Raines, " said the coachman, recognizing me, "Mr. Markson is awfulsick--like to die any minute--an' he wants to see you right away--wishesyou wouldn't wait for anything. "

What to make of it I didn't know, and said so, upon which thestage-driver rather pettishly suggested that 'twouldn't take long tofind out if I got behind Markson's team; and, as I agreed with him, Ichanged conveyances, and was soon at Markson's house. 

Helen met me at the door, and led me immediately to Markson's chamber. The distance from the door of his room to the side of his bed couldn'thave been more than twenty feet, yet, in passing over it, it seemed tome that I imagined at least fifty reasons why the sick man had sent forme, but not one of the fifty was either sensible or satisfactory. 

I was even foolish enough to imagine Markson's conscience was troubled, and that he was going to pay me some money which he justly owed me, whereas he had paid me every cent, according to contract. 

We reached his bedside before I had determined what it could be. Helentook his hand, and said:

"Father, here is Mr. Raines. "

Markson, who was lying motionless, with his face to the wall, turnedquickly over and grasped my hand and beckoned me closer. I put my headdown, and he whispered:

"I'm glad you've come; I want to ask you a favor--a dying man's lastrequest. You're an honest man (N. B. --People intending to build willplease make a note of this. --J. R. ), I am sure, and I want you to help medo justice. You have seen my wife; she can be a tiger when she wants to. She married me for money; she thinks the will I made some time ago, leaving everything to her, is my last. But it is not. I've deceived her, for the sake of peace. I made one since, leaving the bulk of my propertyto Helen; it came to me through her dear mother. I know nobody to trustit with. Mrs. Markson can wrap almost any one around her finger when shetries, and--"

His breath began to fail, and the entrance of his wife did not seem tostrengthen him any; but he finally regained it, and continued:

"She will try it with _you_; but you are cool as well as honest, Ibelieve. I meant to tell Helen where the will was the day after I put itthere; but she was so young--it seemed dreadful to let her know howcowardly her father was--how he feared her. Get it--get a goodlawyer--see she has her rights. I put it--no one could suspect where--Iput it--in--the--"

His breath failed him entirely, and he fixed his eyes on mine with anagonized expression which makes me shiver whenever I think of it. Suddenly his strange operation with that sill, of which I had notthought for a long time, came into my mind, and I whispered, quickly:

"In the sill of the house?"

His expression instantly changed to a very happy one, and yet he lookedwonderstruck, which was natural enough. 

"I saw you put it there, " said I. "But, " I continued, fearing the dyingman might suspect me of spying, and so fear he had mistaken mycharacter--"but I did not mean to--I was on the ground when you camethere that evening; and when I saw what you were doing, I could not movefor fear of disturbing you. I know where to find it, and I can swear youput it there. "

Markson closed his eyes, and never opened them again; and his last act, before going out of the world, was to give my hand a squeeze, which, under the circumstances, I could not help believing was an honest one. 

As his hand relaxed, I felt that I had better give place to those whohad a right to it, so I quietly retired. Helen fell on her knees by hisbedside, but Mrs. Markson followed me out of the room. 

"Mr. Raines, " said she, with a very pleasant smile for a woman widowedbut a moment before, "what did my dear husband want?"

Now, I am an honest man and a Church-member--and I was one then, andbelieved in truth and straightforwardness just as much as I do now--but, somehow, when such a person speaks to me, I feel as if I were all of asudden a velvet-pawed cat myself. So I answered, with the straightest offaces:

"Only to see to one of the sills of the house, ma'am, and he made mesolemnly swear to do it right away. He was an extraordinary man, ma'am, to think of the good of his family up to the last moment. "

"Ah, yes, dear man!" said she, with a sigh which her face plainlyshowed came from nowhere deeper than her lips. "I hope it won't takelong, though, " she continued, "for I can't endure noise in the house. "

"Not more than an hour, " I replied. 

"Oh, I'm glad to hear it!" said she. "Perhaps, then, you might do itwhile we are at the funeral, day after to-morrow? We will be gone atleast two hours. "

"Easily, ma'am, " said I, with my heart in my mouth at the idea ofmanaging the matter so soon, and having the papers for Helen as soon as, in any sort of decency, Mrs. Markson would be likely to have the oldwill read. 

For the rest of the day I was so absent-minded to everything except thisbusiness of Markson's that my acquaintances remarked that, consideringhow long I had been gone, I didn't seem very glad to see any one. 

Finally I went to old Judge Bardlow, who was as true as steel, and toldhim the whole story, and he advised me to get the papers, and give themto him to examine. So, on the day of the funeral, I entered the housewith a mallet and a mortizing chisel, and within fifteen minutes I hadin my pocket the package Markson had put in the sill years before, andwas hurrying to the judge's office. 

He informed me that Mrs. Markson's lawyer, from the city, had called onhim that very morning, and invited him to be present at the reading ofthe will in the afternoon, so he would be able to put things in propershape at once. 

I was more nervous all that day than I ever was in waiting to hear froman estimate. It was none of my business, to be sure; but I longed to seeMrs. Markson punished for the mischief which I and every one elsebelieved she had done her husband; and I longed to see Helen, whom everyone liked, triumph over her stepmother, who, still young and gay, wasawfully jealous of Helen's beauty and general attractiveness. 

Finally the long day wore away, and an hour or two after the carriagesreturned from the funeral, the city lawyer called the judge, and, at thejudge's suggestion, they both called for me. 

We found Mrs. Markson and Helen, with some of Mrs. Markson'srelatives--Helen had not one in the world--in the parlor, Mrs. Marksonlooking extremely pretty in her neat-fitting suit of black, and Helenlooking extremely disconsolate. 

The judge, in a courtly, old-fashioned way, but with a good deal ofheart for all that, expressed his sympathy for Helen, and I tried to saya kind word to her myself. To be sure, it was all praise of her father, whom I really respected very highly (aside from my having had my firstcontract from him), but she was large-hearted enough to like it all thebetter for that. I was still speaking to her when Mrs. Markson's lawyerannounced that he would read the last will and testament of thedeceased; so, when she sat down on a sofa, I took a seat beside her. 

The document was very brief. He left Helen the interest of twentythousand dollars a year, the same to cease if she married; all the restof the property he left to his wife. As the lawyer concluded, Helen'sface put on an expression of wonder and grief, succeeded by one of utterloneliness; while from Mrs. Markson's eyes there flashed an exultantlook that had so much of malignity in it that it made me understand thenature of Satan a great deal more clearly than any sermon ever made medo. Poor Helen tried to meet it with fearlessness and dignity, but sheseemed to feel as if even her father had abandoned her, and she droppedher head and burst into tears. 

I know it wasn't the thing to do before company, but I took her hand andcalled her a poor girl, and begged her to keep a good heart, and trustthat her father loved her truly, and that her wrongs would be righted atthe proper time. 

Being kind to my fellow-creatures is the biggest part of my religion, for it's the part of religion I understand best; but even if I had beena heathen, I couldn't have helped wishing well to a noble, handsomewoman like Helen Markson. I tried to speak in a very low tone, but Mrs. Markson seemed to understand what I said, for she favored me with a lookmore malevolent than any I had ever received from my most impecuniousdebtor; the natural effect was to wake up all the old Adam there was inme, and to make me long for what was coming. 

"May I ask the date of that will?" asked Judge Bardlow. 

"Certainly, sir, " replied Mrs. Markson's lawyer, handing the document tothe judge. The judge looked at the date, handed the will back to thelawyer, and drew from his pocket an envelope. 

"Here is a will made by Mr. Markson, " said the judge, "and dated threemonths later. "

Mrs. Markson started; her eyes flashed with a sort of fire which I hopeI may never see again, and she caught her lower lip up between herteeth. The judge read the document as calmly as if it had been a meresupervisor's notice, whereas it was different to the first will in everyrespect, for it gave to Helen all of his property, of every description, on condition that she paid to Mrs. Markson yearly the interest of twentythousand dollars until death or marriage, "this being the amount, " asthe will said, "that she assured me would be amply sufficient for mydaughter under like circumstances. "

As the judge ceased reading, and folded the document, Mrs. Marksonsprang at him as if she were a wild beast. 

"Give it to me!" she screamed--hissed, rather; "'tis a vile, hatefulforgery!"

"Madame, " said the judge, hastily putting the will in his pocket, andtaking off his glasses, "that is a matter which the law wisely providesshall not be decided by interested parties. When I present it forprobate--"

"I'll _break_ it!" interrupted Mrs. Markson, glaring, as my family catdoes when a mouse is too quick for her. 

Mrs. Markson's lawyer asked permission to look at the newer will, whichthe judge granted. He looked carefully at the signature of Markson andthe witnesses, and returned the document with a sigh. 

"Don't attempt it, madame--no use, " said he. "I know all the signatures;seen them a hundred times. I'm sorry, very--affects _my_ pocket some, for it cuts some of my prospective fees, but--_that_ will can't bebroken. "

Mrs. Markson turned, looked at Helen a second, and then dashed at her, as if "to scatter, tear and slay, " as the old funeral hymn says. Helenstumbled and cowered a little toward me, seeing which I--how on earth Icame to do it I don't know--put my arm around her, and lookedindignantly at Mrs. Markson. 

"You treacherous hussy!" said Mrs. Markson, stamping her foot--"youscheming little minx! I could kill you! I could tear you to pieces! Icould drink your very heart's blood--I could--"

What else she could do she was prevented from telling, for she fell intoa fit, and was carried out rigid and foaming at the mouth. 

I am generally sorry to see even wicked people suffer, but I wasn't abit sorry to see Mrs. Markson; for, while she was talking, poor Helentrembled so violently that it seemed to me she would be scared to deathif her cruel stepmother talked much longer. 

Two hours later Mrs. Markson, with all her relatives and personaleffects, left the house, and six months afterward Mrs. Markson entrappedsome other rich man into marrying her. She never tried to breakMarston's will. 

As Helen was utterly ignorant of the existence of this new will untilshe heard it read, the judge explained to her where it came from; and asshe was naturally anxious for all the particulars of its discovery, thejudge sent me to her to tell her the whole story. So I dressed myselfand drove down--for, though still under thirty, I was well off, anddrove my own span--and told her of my interview with her father, on hisdeathbed, as well as of the scene on the night he hid the will. 

As I told the latter part of the story a reverent, loving, self-forgetful look came into her face, and made her seem to me like anangel. As for myself, the recalling of the incident, now that I knew itssequel, prevented my keeping my eyes dry. I felt a little ashamed ofmyself and hurried away, but her look while I spoke of her father, andher trembling form in my arms while Mrs. Markson raved at her, wereconstantly in my mind, and muddled a great many important estimates. They finally troubled me so that I drove down again and had a long andserious talk with Helen. 

What we said, though perfectly proper and sensible, might not beinteresting in print, so I omit it. I will say, however, that mylonging--when I first saw Helen as a little girl--for a daughter justlike her, has been fulfilled so exactly, that I have named her HelenMarkson Raines, after her mother; and if she is not as much comfort tome as I supposed she would be, it is no fault of hers, but ratherbecause the love of her mother makes me, twenty years after theincidents of this story occurred, so constantly happy, that I need theaffection of no one else. 

[Illustration]

GRUMP'S PET. 

On a certain day in November, 1850, there meandered into the new miningcamp of Painter Bar, State of California, an individual who wasinstantly pronounced, all voices concurring, the ugliest man in thecamp. The adjective ugly was applied to the man's physiognomy alone; buttime soon gave the word, as applied to him, a far wider significance. Infact, the word was not at all equal to the requirements made of it, andthis was probably what influenced the prefixing of numerous adjectives, sacred and profane, to this little word of four letters. 

The individual in question stated that he came from "no whar inpu'tiklar, " and the savage, furtive glance that shot from his hyena-likeeyes seemed to plainly indicate why the land of his origin was soindefinitely located. A badly broken nose failed to soften theexpression of his eyes, a long, prominent, dull-red scar divided one ofhis cheeks, his mustache was not heavy enough to hide a hideoushare-lip; while a ragged beard, and a head of stiff, bristly red hair, formed a setting which intensified rather than embellished thepeculiarities we have noted. 

The first settlers, who seemed quite venerable and dignified, now thatthe camp was nearly a fortnight old, were in the habit of extendinghospitality to all newcomers until these latter could build huts forthemselves; but no one hastened to invite this beauty to partake ofcracker, pork and lodging-place, and he finally betook himself to thesoutherly side of a large rock, against which he placed a few boughs tobreak the wind. 

The morning after his arrival, certain men missed provisions, and theugly man was suspected; but so depressing, as one miner mildly put it, was his aspect when even looked at inquiringly, that the bravest of theboys found excuse for not asking questions of the suspected man. 

"Ain't got no chum, " suggested Bozen, an ex-sailor, one day, after thecrowd had done considerable staring at this unpleasant object; "ain'tgot no chum, and's lonesome--needs cheerin' up. " So Bozenphilanthropically staked a new claim near the stranger, apart from themain party. The next morning found him back on his old claim, andvolunteering to every one the information that "stranger's a grump--areg'lar grump. " From that time forth "Grump" was the only name by whichthe man was known. 

Time rolled on, and in the course of a month Painter Bar was mentionedas an old camp. It had its mining rules, its saloon, blacksmith-shop, and faro-bank, like the proudest camp on the Run, and one could findthere colonels, judges, doctors, and squires by the dozen, besides onedeacon and a dominie or two. 

Still, the old inhabitants kept an open eye for newcomers, and displayedan open-hearted friendliness from whose example certain Eastern citiesmight profit. 

But on one particular afternoon, the estimable reception committee wereput to their wit's end. They were enjoying their _otium cum dignitale_on a rude bench in front of the saloon, when some one called attentionto an unfamiliar form which leaned against a stunted tree a few rodsoff. 

It was of a short, loose-jointed young man, who seemed so thin and lean, that Black Tom ventured the opinion that "that feller had better holdtight to the groun', ter keep from fallen' upards. " His eyes werecolorless, his nose was enormous, his mouth hung wide open and then shutwith a twitch, as if its owner were eating flies, his chin seemed tohave been entirely forgotten, and his thin hair was in color somewherebetween sand and mud. 

As he leaned against the tree he afforded a fine opportunity for thestudy of acute and obtuse angles. His neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, back, knees and feet all described angles, and even the toes of hisshocking boots deflected from the horizontal in a most decided manner. 

"Somebody ort to go say somethin' to him, " said the colonel, who wasrecognized as leader by the miners. 

"Fact, colonel, " replied one of the men; "but what's a feller to say tosich a meanderin' bone-yard ez that? Might ask him, fur perlitenesssake, to take fust pick uv lots in a new buryin' ground; but thenPerkins died last week, yur know. "

"Say _somethin'_, somebody, " commanded the colonel, and as he spoke hiseyes alighted on Slim Sam, who obediently stepped out to greet thenewcomer. 

"Mister, " said Sam, producing a plug of tobacco, "hev a chaw?"

"I don't use tobacco, " languidly replied the man, and his answer was sounexpected that Sam precipitately retired. 

Then Black Tom advanced, and pleasantly asked:

"What's yer fav'rit game, stranger?"

"Blind man's buff, " replied the stranger. 

"What's that?" inquired Tom, blushing with shame at being compelled todisplay ignorance about games; "anything like going it blind at poker?"

"Poker?--I don't know what that is, " replied the youth. 

"He's from the country, " said the colonel, compassionately, "an' hesn'thed the right schoolin'. P'r'aps, " continued the colonel, "he'd enjoythe cockfight at the saloon to-night--these country boys are pretty wellup on roosters. Ask him, Tom. "

Tom put the question, and the party, in deep disgust, heard the manreply:

"No, thank you; I think it's cruel to make the poor birds hurt eachother. "

"Look here, " said the good-natured Bozen, "the poor lubber's all gone inamidships--see how flat his breadbasket is. I say, messmate, " continuedBozen, with a roar, and a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, "come andsplice the main-brace. "

"No, thank you, " answered the unreasonable stranger; "I don't drink. "

The boys looked incredulously at each other, while the colonel arose andpaced the front of the saloon two or three times, looking greatlypuzzled. He finally stopped and said:

"The mizzable rat isn't fit to be out uv doors, an' needs takin' keerov. Come here, feller, " called the colonel; "be kinder sociable--don'tstand there a gawpin' at us ez ef we wuz a menagerie. "

The youth approached slowly, stared through the crowd, and finallyasked:

"Is there any one here from Pawkin Centre?"

No one responded. 

"Some men went out to Californy from Pawkin Centre, and I didn't knowbut some of 'em was here. I come from ther' myself--my name's Mix, " theyouth continued. . 

"Meanin' no disrespect to your dad, " said the colonel, "Mr. Mix, Senior, ortn't to hev let you come out here--you ain't strong enough--you'll gitfever 'n ager 'fore you've washed dirt half a day. "

"I ain't got no dad, " replied the stranger; "leastways he ran away tenyears ago, an' mother had a powerful hard time since, a-bringin' up theyoung uns, an' we thought I might help along a big sight if I was outhere. "

The colonel was not what in the States would be called a prayer-meetingman, but he looked steadily at the young man, and inwardly breathed avery earnest "God have mercy on you all. " Then he came back to the moreimmediate present, and, looking about, asked:

"Who's got sleepin'-room for this young man?"

"I hev, " quickly answered Grump, who had approached, unnoticed, whilethe newcomer was being interviewed. 

Every one started, and Grump's countenance did not gather amiability ashe sneakingly noticed the general distrust. 

"Yer needn't glare like that, " said he, savagely; "I sed it, an' I meanit. Come along, youngster--it's about the time I generally fry my pork. "

And the two beauties walked away together, while the crowd stared inspeechless astonishment. 

"He won't make much out uv that boy, that's one comfort, " said BlackTom, who had partially recovered from his wonder. "You ken bet yereye-teeth that his pockets wouldn't pan out five dollars. "

"Then what does he want uv him?" queried Slim Sam. 

"Somethin' mean an' underhand, for certain, " said the colonel, "and theboy must be purtected. And I hereby app'int this whole crowd to keep aneye on Grump, an' see he don't make a slave of the boy, an' don't robhim of dust. An' I reckon I'll take one of yer with me, an' keep watchof the old rascal to-night. I don't trust him wuth a durn. "

That night the boys at the saloon wrinkled their brows like unto animpecunious Committee of Ways and Means, as they vainly endeavored tosurmise why Grump could want that young man as a lodger. Men who pursuedwittling as an aid to reason made pecks of chips and shavings, and wereno nearer a solution than when they began. 

There were a number of games played, but so great was theabsentmindedness of the players, that several hardened scamps indulgedin some most unscrupulous "stocking" of the cards without detection. Buteven one of these, after having dealt himself both bowers and the king, besides two aces, suddenly imagined he had discovered Grump's motive, and so earnest was he in exposing that nefarious wretch, that one of hisopponents changed hands with him. Even the barkeeper mixed the bottlesbadly, and on one occasion, just as the boys were raising their glasses, he metaphorically dashed the cup from their lips by a violent, "I tellyou what" and an unsatisfactory theory. Finally the colonel arose. 

"Boys, " said he, in the tone of a man whose mind is settled, "'tain't'cos the youngster looked like lively comp'ny, fur he didn't. 'Taint'cos Grump wanted to do him a good turn, fur 'tain't his style. Cons'kently, thar's sumthin' wrong. Tom, I reckon I take _you_ along. "

And Tom and the colonel departed. 

During the month which had elapsed since his advent, Grump had managedto build him a hut of the usual mining pattern, and the colonel and Tomstealthily examined its walls, front and rear, until they found creviceswhich would admit the muzzle of a revolver, should it be necessary. Thenthey applied their eyes to the same cracks, and saw the youth asleep ona pile of dead grass, with Grump's knapsack for a pillow, and one ofGrump's blankets over him. Grump himself was sitting on a fragment ofstone, staring into the fire, with his face in his hands. 

He sat so long that the worthy colonel began to feel indignant; to sitin a cramped position on the outside of a house, for the sake of abusedhuman nature, was an action more praiseworthy than comfortable, and thecolonel began to feel personally aggrieved at Grump's delay. Besides, the colonel was growing thirsty. 

Suddenly Grump arose, looked down at the sleeping youth, and then kneltbeside him. The colonel briskly brought his pistol to bear on him, andwith great satisfaction noted that Tom's muzzle occupied a crack in thefront walls, and that he himself was out of range. 

A slight tremor seemed to run through the sleeper; "and no wonder, " saidthe colonel, when he recounted the adventure to the boys; "anybody'dshiver to hev _that_ catamount glarin' at him. "

Grump arose, and softly went to a corner which was hidden by thechimney. 

"Gone for his knife, I'll bet, " whispered the colonel to himself. "Ihope Tom don't spile my mad by firin' fust. "

Grump returned to view; but instead of a knife, he bore another blanket, which he gently spread over his sleeping guest, then he lay down besideMix with a log of wood for a pillow. 

The colonel withdrew his pistol, and softly muttered to himself a dozenor two enormous oaths; then he arose, straightened out his cramped legs, and started to find Tom. That worthy had started on a similar errand, and on meeting, the two stared at each other in the moonlight as blanklyas a couple of well-preserved mummies. 

"S'pose the boys'll believe us?" whispered the colonel. 

"We ken bring 'em down to see the show themselves, ef they don't, "replied Tom. 

The colonel's report was productive of the choicest assortment ofejaculations that had been heard in camp since Natchez, the leader ofthe Vinegar Gulch Boys, joined the Church and commenced preaching. 

The good-natured Bozen was for drinking Grump's health at once, but thecolonel demurred. So did Slim Sam. 

"He's goin' to make him work on sheers, or some hocus-pocusin'arrangement, an' he can't afford to hev him git sick. That's what hiskindness amounts to, " said Sam. 

"Ur go fur his gratitude--and dust, when he gets any, " suggestedanother, and no one repelled the insinuation. 

It was evident, however, that there was but little chance of eitherinquest or funeral from Grump's, and the crowd finally dispersed withthe confirmed assurance that there would be one steady cause ofexcitement for some time to come. 

Next morning young Mix staked a claim adjoining Grump. The colonel ledhim aside, bound him to secrecy and told him that there was a farricher dirt further down the stream. The young man pointed toward thehut, and replied:

"He sed 'twas payin' dirt, an' I ort to take his advice, seein' he givme a pick an' shovel an' pan--sed he'd hev to git new ones anyhow. "

"Thunder!" ejaculated the colonel, more puzzled than ever knowing wellhow a miner will cling as long as possible to tools with which he isacquainted. 

"Jest wait till that boy gets a bag of dust, " said a miner, when thecolonel had narrated the second wonder. "The express agent'll be herenext week to git what fellers wants to send to their folks--the boy'llwant to send some to his'n--his bag'll be missin' 'bout then--jist wait, and ef my words don't come true, call me greaser. "

The colonel pondered over the prophecy, and finally determined onanother vigil outside Grump's hut. 

Meanwhile, Grump's Pet, as Mix had been nicknamed, afforded the camp agreat deal of amusement. He was not at all reserved, and was easilydrawn out on the subject of his protector, of whom he spoke in terms ofunmeasured praise. 

"By the piper that played before Moses, " said one of the boys one day, "ef half that boy sez is true, some day Grump'll hev wings sproutthrough his shirt, an' 'll be sittin' on the sharp edge uv a cloud an'playin' onto a harp, jist like the other angels. "

As for Grump himself, he improved so much that suspicion was halfdisarmed when one looked at him; nevertheless the colonel deemed itprudent to watch the Pet's landlord on the night preceding the expressday. 

The colonel timed himself by counting the games of old sledge that wereplayed. At the end of the sixth game after dark he made his way toGrump's hut and quietly located himself at the same crack as before. 

The Pet and his friend were both lying down, but by the light of thefire the colonel could see the eyes of the former were closed, whilethose of the latter were wide open. The moments flew by, and still thetwo men remained in the same positions, the Pet apparently fast asleep, and Grump wide awake. 

The interior of a miner's hut, though displaying great originality ofdesign, and ingenious artistic effects, becomes after a time rather atiresome object of contemplation. The colonel found it so, and herelieved his strained eyes by an occasional amateur astronomicalobservation. On turning his head, with a yawn, from one of these, he sawinside the hut a state of affairs which caused him to feel hurriedly forhis pistol. 

Grump had risen upon one elbow, and was stealthily feeling with hisother hand under the Pet's head. 

"Ha!" thought the colonel; "right at last. "

Slowly Grump's hand emerged from beneath the Pet's head, and with itcame a leather bag containing gold dust. 

The colonel drew a perfect bead on Grump's temple. 

"I'll jest wait till you're stowin' that away, my golden-haired beauty, "said the colonel, within himself, "an' then we'll see what cold lead'sgot to say about it. "

Grump untied the bag, set it upon his own pillow, drew forth his ownpouch, and untied it; the colonel's aim remained true to its unconsciousmark. 

"Ef that's the game, " continued the colonel, to himself, "I reckon theproper time to play my trump is just when you're a-pourin' from his baginto your'n. It'll be ez good's a theatre, to bring the boys up to seehow 'twas done. Lord! I wish he'd hurry up!"

Grump placed a hand upon each bag, and the colonel felt for his trigger. Grump's left hand opened wide the mouth of Pet's bag, and his right handraised his own; in a moment he had poured out all his own gold intoPet's bag, tied it, and replaced it under Pet's head. 

The colonel retired quietly for a hundred yards, or more, then hestarted for the saloon like a man inspired by a three-days' thirst. Ashe entered the saloon the crowd arose. 

"Any feller ken say I lie, " meekly spoke the colonel, "an' I won'tshoot, _I_ wouldn't believe it ef I hedn't seen it with my own eyes. Grump's poured all his gold into the Pet's pouch!"

The whole party, in chorus, condemned their optical organs tosupernatural warmth; some, more energetic than the rest, signified thatthe operation should extend to their lungs and lives. But the doubter ofthe party again spoke:

"Mind yer, " said he, "to-morrow he'll be complainin' that the Pet stoleit, an' then he'll claim all in the Pet's pouch. "

The colonel looked doubtful; several voices expressed dissent; Bozen, reviving his proposition to drink to Grump, found opinion about equallybalanced, but conservative. It was agreed, however, that all the boysshould "hang around" the express agent next day, and should, if Grumpmade the Pet any trouble, dispose of him promptly, and give the Pet aclear title to all of Grump's rights and properties. 

The agent came, and one by one the boys deposited their dust, saw itweighed, and took their receipts. Presently there was a stir near thedoor, and Grump and Pet entered. Pet's gold was weighed, his mother'sname given, and a receipt tendered. 

"Thinks he's goin' to hev conviction in writin', " whispered the doubterto the colonel. 

But the agent finished his business, took the stage, and departed. Grumpstarted to the door to see the last of it. The doubter was there beforehim, and saw a big tear in the corner of each of Grump's eyes. 

 * * * * *

A few days after Grump went to Placerville for a new pick for thePet--the old one was too heavy for a light man, Grump said. Pet himselffelt rather lonesome working on his neighbor's claim, so he sauntereddown the creek, and got a kind word from almost every man. Hisridiculous anatomy had escaped the grave so long, he was so industriousand so inoffensive, that the boys began to have a sort of affection forthe boy who had come so far to "help the folks. "

Finally, some weak miner, unable to hold the open secret any longer, told the Pet about Grump's operation in dust. Great was the astonishmentof the young man, and puzzling miners gained sympathy from the weak eyesand open mouth of the Pet as he meandered homeward, evidently as muchat a loss as themselves. 

Unlucky was the spirit which prompted Grump in the selection of hisclaim! It was just beyond a small bend which the Run made, and was, therefore, out of sight of the claims of the other men belonging to thecamp. And it came to pass that while Pet was standing on his own claim, leaning on his spade, and puzzling his feeble brain, there came down theRun the great Broady, chief of the Jolly Grasshoppers, who were workingseveral miles above. 

Mr. Broady had found a nugget a few days before, and, in his exultation, had ceased work and become a regular member of the bar. A week'sindustrious drinking developed in him that peculiar amiability andhumanity which is characteristic of cheap whisky, and as Pet was small, ugly and alone, Broady commenced working off on him his own superfluousenergy. 

Poor Pet's resistance only increased the fury of Broady, and the familyat Pawkin Centre seemed in imminent danger of being supported by thetown, when suddenly a pair of enormous stubby hands seized Broady by thethroat, and a harsh voice, which Pet joyfully recognized as Grump's, exclaimed:

"Let him go, or I'll tear yer into mince-meat, curse yer!"

The chief of the Jolly Grasshoppers was not in the habit of obeyingorders, but Grump's hands imparted to his command considerable moralforce. 

No sooner, however, had Broady extricated himself from Grump's graspthan he drew his revolver and fired. Grump fell, and the chief of theJolly Grasshoppers, his injured dignity made whole, walked peacefullyaway. 

The sound of the shot brought up all the boys from below. 

"They've fit!" gasped the doubter, catching his breath as he ran, "an'the boy--boy's hed to--lay him out. "

It seemed as if the doubter might be right, for the boys found Grumplying on the ground bleeding badly, and the Pet on his hands and knees. 

"How did it come 'bout?" asked the colonel of Pet. 

"Broady done it, " replied Grump, in a hoarse whisper; "he pounded theboy, and I tackled him--then he fired. "

The doubter went around and raised the dying man's head. Pet seemedcollecting all his energies for some great effort; finally he asked:

"What made you pour your dust into my pouch?"

"'Cause, " whispered the dying man, putting one arm about Pet's neck, anddrawing him closer, "_'cause I'm yer dad_; give this to yer mar, " and onPet's homely face the ugliest man at Painter Bar put the first token ofhuman affection ever displayed in that neighborhood. 

The arm relaxed its grasp and fell loosely, and the red eyes closed. Theexperienced colonel gazed into the upturned face, and gently said:

"Pet, yer an orphan. "

Reverently the boys carried the dead man into his own hut. Several mendug a grave beside that of Perkins, while the colonel and doubter actedas undertakers, the latter donating his only white shirt for a shroud. 

This duty done, they went to the saloon, and the doubter called up thecrowd. The glasses filled, the doubter raised his own, and exclaimed:

"Boys, here's corpse--corpse is the best-looking man in camp. "

And so he was. For the first time in his wretched life his soul hadreached his face, and the Judge mercifully took him while he was yet inHis own image. 

The body was placed in a rude coffin, and borne to the grave on a litterof spades, followed by every man in camp, the colonel supporting theonly family mourner. Each man threw a shovelful of dirt upon the coffinbefore the filling began. As the last of the surface of the coffindisappeared from view, Pet raised a loud cry and wept bitterly, at whichoperation he was joined by the whole party. 

WARDELOW'S BOY. 

New Boston has once been the most promising of the growing cities of theWest, according to some New York gentleman who constituted a landimprovement company, distributed handsome maps gratis, and courtedsusceptible Eastern editors. Its water-power was unrivaled; ground forall desirable public buildings, and for a handsome park with ready-growntrees and a natural lake, had been securely provided for by the terms ofthe company's charter; building material abounded; the water was good;the soil of unequaled fertility; while the company, with admirableforethought, had a well-stocked store on the ground, and had madearrangements to send to the town a skillful physician and a popularpreacher. 

A reasonable number of colonists found their way to the ground in thepleasant Spring time, and, in spite of sundry local peculiarities notmentioned in the company's circular, they might have remained, had not amighty freshet, in June, driven them away, and even saved some of themthe trouble of moving their houses. 

When, however, most of the residences floated down the river, some ofthem bearing their owners on their roofs, such of the inhabitants as hadmoney left the promised land for ever; while the others made themselvessuch homes as they could in the nearest settlements which were abovewater, and fraternized with the natives through the medium of thatcommon bond of sympathy in the Western lowlands, the ague. 

Only a single one of the original inhabitants remained, and he, although he might have chosen the best of the abandoned houses for hisresidence, or even the elegant but deserted "company's store, " continuedto inhabit the cabin he had built upon his arrival. The solid businessmen of the neighboring town of Mount Pisgah, situated upon a bluff, voted him a fool whenever his name was mentioned; but the wives of thesesame men, when they chanced to see old Wardelow passing by, with thewistful face he always wore, looked after him tenderly, and never lostan opportunity to speak to him kindly. When they met at tea-parties, orquilting-bees, or sewing-societies, or in other gatherings exclusivelyfeminine, there were not a few of them who had the courage to say thatthe world would be better if more men were like old Wardelow. 

For love seemed the sole motive of old Wardelow's life. The cemeterywhich the thoughtful projectors of New Boston had presented to theinhabitants had for its only occupant the wife of old Wardelow; and shehad been conveyed thereto by a husband who was both young and handsome. The freshet which had, soon afterward, swept the town, had carried withit Wardelow's only child, a boy of seven years, who had been playing ina boat which he, in some way, unloosed. 

From that day the father had found no trace of his child, yet he neverceased hoping for his return. Every steamboat captain on the river knewthe old man, and the roughest of them had cheerfuly replied in theaffirmative when asked if they wouldn't bring up a small boy who mightsome day come on board, report himself as Stevie Wardelow, and ask to betaken to New Boston. 

Almost every steamboat man, from captain and pilot down to fireman androustabout, carried and posted Wardelow's circulars wherever theywent--up Red River, the Yazoo, the White, the Arkansas, the Missouri, and all the smaller tributaries of the Mississippi. 

New Boston had long been dropped from the list of post-towns, but everycross-road for miles around had a fingerboard showing the direction andtelling the distance to New Boston. Upon a tall cottonwood-tree on theriver-bank, and nearly in front of Wardelow's residence, was an immensesignboard bearing the name of "New Boston Landing, " and on the otherside of the river, at a ferry-staging belonging to a crossing whoseother terminus was a mile further down the river, was a sign whichinformed travelers that persons wishing to go to New Boston would find askiff marked "Wardelow" tied near the staging. 

The old man never went to Mount Pisgah for stores, or up the river tofish, or even into his own cornfield and garden, without affixing to hisdoor a placard telling where he had gone and when he would return. 

When he went to the cemetery, which he frequently did, a statement tothat effect, and a plan showing the route to and through the cemetery, was always appended to his door, and, as he could never clearly imaginehis boy as having passed the childhood in which he had last seen him, all the signboards, placards, and circulars were in large capitalletters. 

Even when the river overflowed its banks, which it did nearly everySpring, the old man did not leave his house. He would not have anotherstory built upon it, as he was advised to do, lest Stevie might fail torecognize it on his return; but, after careful study, he had the houseraised until the foundation was above high-water mark, and then had theground made higher, but sloped so gradually that the boy could notnotice the change. 

When one after another of the city's "plots, " upon which deserted housesstood, were sold for default in payment of taxes, old Wardelow boughtthem himself--they always went for a song, and the old man preferred toown them, lest some one else might destroy the ruins, and thus make theplace unfamiliar to the returning wanderer. 

Of friends he had almost none. Although he was intelligent, industrious, ingenious, and owned a library which passed for quite a large one inthose days and in the new West, he cared to talk on only one subject, and as that was of no particular interest to other people, andbecame, in the course of time, extremely stale to those who did not likeit, the people of Mount Pisgah and the adjoining country did not spendmore time upon old Wardelow than was required by the necessities ofbusiness. 

[Illustration: THE OLD MAN NEVER LEFT HIS HOUSE WITHOUT AFFIXING TO HISDOOR A PLACARD TELLING WHERE HE HAD GONE AND WHEN HE WOULD RETURN. ]

There were a few exceptions to this rule. Old Mrs. Perry, who passed fora saint, and whose life did not belie her reputation, used to drive herold pony up to New Boston about once a month, carrying some home-madedelicacy with her, and chatting sympathetically for an hour or two. 

Among the Mount Pisgah merchants there was one--who had never had achild of his own--who always pressed the old man's hand warmly, andadmitted the possibility of whatever new hope Wardelow might express. 

The pastors of the several churches at Mount Pisgah, however much theydisagreed on doctrinal points, were in perfect accord as to the beautyof a character which was so completely under the control of a nobleprinciple that had no promise of money in it; most of them, therefore, paid the old man professional visits, from which they generally returnedwith more benefit than they had conferred. 

Time had rolled on as usual, in spite of Wardelow's great sorrow. TheMexican war was just breaking out when New Boston was settled, andWardelow's hair was black, and Mount Pisgah was a little cluster of loghuts; but when Lincoln was elected, Wardelow had been gray and calledold for nearly ten years, and Mount Pisgah had quite a number oftwo-story residences and brick stores, and was a county town, withcourt-house and jail all complete. 

None of the railway lines projected toward and through Mount Pisgah hadbeen completed, however, nor had the town telegraphic communication withanywhere; so, compared with localities enjoying the higher benefits ofcivilization, Mount Pisgah and its surroundings constituted quite aparadise for horse-thieves. 

There were still sparsely settled places, too, which needed theministrations of the Methodist circuit-rider. 

The young man who had been sent by the Southern Illinois Conference topreach the Word on the Mount Pisgah circuit was great-hearted andimpetuous, and tremendously in earnest in all that he did or said; but, like all such men, he paid the penalty of being in advance of his dayand generation by suffering some terrible fits of depression over thesmall results of his labor. 

And so, following the example of most of his predecessors on the MountPisgah circuit, he paid many a visit to old Wardelow, to learn strengthfrom this perfect example of patient faith. 

As the circuit-rider left the old man one evening, and sought hisfaithful horse in the deserted barn in which he had tied him, he wassomewhat astonished to find the horse unloosed, and another man quietlyleading him away. 

Courage and decision being among the qualities which are natural to thesuccessful circuit-rider, he sprang at the thief and knocked him down. The operator in horse-flesh speedily regained his feet, however, and ashe closed with the preacher the latter saw, under the starlight, thegleam of a knife. 

Commending himself to the Lord, he made such vigorous efforts for thesafety of his body that, within two or three moments, he had the thiefface downward on the ground, his own knee on the thief's back, one handupon the thief's neck, and in his other hand the thief's knife. Then thecircuit-rider delivered a short address. 

"My sinful friend, " said he, "when two men get into such a scrape asthis, and one of them is in your line of business, one or the other willhave to die, and I don't propose to be the one. I haven't finished thework which the Master has given me to do. If you've any dying messagesto send to anybody, I give you my word as a preacher that they shall bedelivered, but you must speak quick. What's your name?"

"I'll give you five hundred dollars to let me off--you may holler forhelp and tie my hand, and--"

"No use--speak quick, " hissed the preacher--"what's your name?"

"Stephen Wardelow, " gasped the thief. 

"What!" roared the preacher, loosening his grasp, but instantlytightening it again. 

"Stephen Wardelow, " replied the thief. "But I haven't got any messagesto send to anybody. I haven't a relative in the world, and nobody wouldcare if I was dead. I might as well go now as any time. Hit square whenyo _do_ let me have it--that's all!"

"Where's your parents?" asked the preacher. 

"Dead, I reckon, " the thief answered. "Leastways, I know mother is, anddad lived in a fever an' aguerish place, an' I s'pose he's gone, too, before this. "

"Where did he live?"

"I don't know--some new settlement somewheres in Illinois. I got lost inthe river when I was a little boy, an' was picked up by a tradin'-boatan' sold for a nearly-white nigger--I s'pose I _was_ pretty dark. "

There was a silence; the captive lay perfectly quiet, as if expectingthe fatal blow. Suddenly a voice was heard:

"Not wishin' to interfere in a fair fight--it's me, parson, SheriffPeters--not wishin' to interfere in a fair fight, I've been a-lookin' onhere, where I'd tracked the thief myself, and would have grabbed him ifyou hadn't been about half a minute ahead of me. And if you want to knowmy honest opinion--my professional opinion--it's just this: There wasstuff for a splendid sheriff spiled when you went a-preachin'. How you'dget along when it come to collectin' taxes, I don't know, never havin'been at any meetin' where you took up a collection; but when it come toan arrest, you'd be just chain-lightning ground down to a pint. Thepris'ner's yours, and so's all the rewards that's offered for him, though they're not offered for a man of the name _he_ gives. But, honest, now, don't you think there's a chance of mitigatin'circumstances in his case? Let's talk it over--I'll help you tie him sohe can't slip you. "

The sheriff lighted a pocket-lantern and placed it in a window-framebehind him, then he tied the prisoner's feet and legs in several places, tied his hands behind his back, sat him upon the ground with his facetoward the door, cocked a pistol, and then beckoned the preacher towarda corner. The sheriff opened his pocketbook and took out a paper, whispering as he did so:

"I've carried this as a sort of a curiosity, but it may come in handynow. Let's see--confound it!--the poor old fellow is describing thechild just as it was fifteen years ago. Oh, here's a point ortwo!--'brown eyes, black hair'--oh, bully! here's the best thingyet!--'first joint of the left fore-finger gone. '"

The sheriff snatched the light, and both men hastened to examine theprisoner's hand. After a single glance their eyes met and each set ofoptics inquired of the other. 

At length the sheriff remarked: "He's _your_ pris'ner. "

The circuit-rider flushed and then turned pale. He took the lantern fromthe sheriff, turned the light full on the prisoner's face, and said:

"Prisoner, suppose you were to find that your father was alive?"

The horse-thief replied with a piercing glance, which was full ofwonder, but said not a word. A moment or two passed, and the preachersaid:

"Suppose you were to find that your father was alive, and had searchedeverywhere for _you_, and that he thought of nothing but you, and wasall the time hoping for your return--that he had grown old before histime, all because of his longing and sorrow for you?" The thief droppedhis eyes, then his face twitched; at last he burst out crying. "Yourfather _is_ alive; he isn't far from this cabin; he's very sick; I'vejust left him. Nothing but the sight of you will do him any good; but Ithink so much of him that I'd rather kill you this instant than let himknow what business you've been in. "

"Them's my sentiments, too, " remarked the sheriff. 

"Let me see him!" exclaimed the prisoner, clasping and raising hismanacled hands, while his face filled with an earnestness which wasliterally terrible--"let me see him, if it's only for a few minutes! Youneedn't be afraid that _I'll_ tell him what I am, and _you_ won't bemean enough to do it, if I don't try to run away. Have mercy on me! Youdon't know what it is to never have had anybody to love you, and thensuddenly to find that there _is_ some one that wants you!"

The preacher turned to the officer and said:

"I'm a law-abiding citizen, sheriff. "

And the sheriff replied:

"He's _your_ pris'ner. "

"Then suppose I let him go, on his promise to stick to his father forthe rest of his life!"

"He's your pris'ner, " repeated the sheriff. 

"Suppose, then, I were to insist upon your taking him into custody. "

"Why, then, " said the sheriff, speaking like a man in the depths ofmeditation, "I would let him go myself, and--and I'd have to shoot _you_to save my reputation as a faithful officer. "

The preacher made a peculiar face. The prisoner exclaimed:

"Hurry, you brutes!"

The preacher said, at last:

"Let him loose. "

The sheriff removed the handcuffs, dived into his own pocket, broughtout a pocket-comb and glass, and handed them to the thief; then heplaced the lantern in front of him, and said:

"Fix yourself up a little. Your hat's a miz'able one--I'll swap withyou. You've got to make up some cock-and-bull story now, for the oldman'll want to know everything. You might say you'd been a sheriff downSouth somewhere since you got away from the feller that owned you. "

The preacher paused over a knot in one of the cords on the prisoner'slegs, and said:

"Say you were a circuit-rider--that's more near the literal truth. "

The sheriff seemed to demur somewhat, and he said, at length:

"Without meanin' any disrespect, parson, don't you think 'twould ticklethe old man and the citizens more to think he'd been a sheriff? Theywouldn't dare to ask him so many questions then, either. And it might beonhandy for him if he was asked to preach, while a smart horse-thief hasnaturally got some of the p'ints of a real sheriff about him. "

"You insist upon it that he's my prisoner, " said the preacher, tuggingaway at his knot, "and I insist upon the circuit-rider story. And, "continued the young man, with one mighty pull at the knot, "he's _got_to be a circuit-rider, and I'm going to make one of him. Do you hearthat, young man? I'm the man that's setting you free and giving you toyour father!"

"You can make anything you please out of me, " said the prisoner. "Onlyhurry!"

"As you say, parson, " remarked the sheriff, with admirable meekness;"he's _your_ prisoner, but I _could_ make a splendid deputy out of himif you'd let him take my advice. And I'd agree to work for hisnomination for my place when my term runs out. Think of what he mightget to be!--there _has_ sheriffs gone to the Legislature, and I've heardof one that went to Congress. "

"Circuit-riders get higher than that, sometimes, " said the preacher, leading his prisoner toward old Wardelow's cabin; "they get as high asheaven!"

"Oh!" remarked the sheriff, and gave up the contest. 

Both men accompanied the prisoner toward his father's house. Thepreacher began to deliver some cautionary remarks, but the young manburst from him, threw open the door, and shouted:

"Father!"

The old man started from his bed, shaded his eyes, and exclaimed:

"Stevie!"

The father and son embraced, seeing which the sheriff proved that evensheriffs are human by snatching the circuit-rider in his arms and givinghim a mighty hug. 

 * * * * *

The father recovered and lived happily. The son and the preacherfulfilled their respective promises, and the sheriff, always, on meetingeither of them, so abounded in genial winks and effusive handshakings, that he nearly lost his next election by being suspected of havingbecome religious himself. 

[Illustration]

TOM CHAFFLIN'S LUCK. 

"Luck? Why, I never seed anything like it! Yer might give him thesweepin's of a saloon to wash, an' he'd pan out a nugget ev'ry time--doit ez shure as shootin'!"

This rather emphatic speech proceeded one day from the lips of CairoJake, an industrious washer of the golden sands of California; but itwas evident to all intelligent observers that even language so strong asto seem almost figurative did not fully express Cairo Jake's conviction, for he shook his head so positively that his hat fell off into thestream, which found a level only an inch or two below Jacob's boottops, and he stamped his right foot so vigorously as to endanger hisequilibrium. 

"Well, " sighed a discontented miner from New Jersey, "Providence knowsHis own bizness best, I s'pose; but I could have found him a feller thatcould have made a darn sight better use of his good luck--ef he'd hadany--than Tom Chafflin. _He_ don't know nothin' 'bout the worth ofmoney--never seed him drunk in my life, an' he don't seem to get no funout of keerds. "

"Providence'll hev a season's job a-satisfyin' _you_, old Redbank, "replied Cairo Jake; "but it's all-fired queer, for all that. Ef a fellercould only learn how he done it, 'twouldn't seem so funny; but he don'tseem to have no way in p'tickler about him that a feller ken find out. "

"Fact, " said Redbank, with a solemn groan. "I've studied his face--why, ef I'd studied half ez hard at school I'd be a president, ormissionary, or somethin' now--but I don't make it out. Once I 'llowed'twas cos he didn't keer, an' was kind o' reckless--sort o' went itblind. So I tried it on a-playin' monte. "

"Well, how did it work?" asked the gentleman from Cairo. 

"Work?" echoed the Jerseyman, with the air of an unsuccessful candidatemusing over the "saddest words of thought or pen;" "I started withthirteen ounces, an' in twenty minutes I was borryin' the price of adrink from the dealer. _That's_ how it worked. "

Certain other miners looked sorrowful; it was evident that they, too, had been reckless, and had trusted to luck, and that in a place wheregold-digging and gambling were the only two means of proving thecorrectness of their theory, it was not difficult to imagine by whichone they were disappointed. 

"Long an' short of it's jest this, " resumed Cairo Jake, straighteninghimself for a moment, and picking some coarse gravel from his pan, "TomChafflin's always in luck. His claim pays better'n anybody else's; healways gets the lucky number at a raffle, his shovel don't never break, an' his chimbly ain't always catchin' a-fire. He's gone down to 'Frisconow, an' I'll bet a dozen ounces that jest cos he's aboard, the oldboat'll go down an' back without runnin' aground a solitary durnedtime. "

No one took up Cairo Jake's bet, so that it was evident he uttered thegeneral sentiment of the mining camp of Quicksilver Bar. 

Every man, in the temporary silence which followed Jake's summary, againbent industriously over his pan, until the scene suggested an amateurwater-cure establishment returning thanks for basins of gruel, whensuddenly the whole line was startled into suspension of labor by theappearance of London George, who was waving his hat with one hand and ared silk handkerchief with the other, while with his left foot he wasperforming certain _pas_ not necessary to successful pedestrianism. 

"Quicksilver Bar hain't up to snuff--oh, no! Ain't a-catchin' up withFrisco--not at all! Little Chestnut don't know how to run a saloon, an'make other shops weep--not in the least--not at all--oh, no!"

"Eh?" inquired half a dozen. 

"Don't b'leeve me if you don't want to, but just bet against it 'foreyou go to see--that's all!" continued London George, fanning himselfwith his hat. 

"George, " said Judge Baggs, with considerable asperity, "ef you _are_ anEnglishman, try to speak your native tongue, an' explain what you meanby actin' ez ef you'd jes' broke out of a lunatic 'sylum. Speak quick, or I'll fine you drinks for the crowd. "

"Just as lieve you would, " said the unabashed Briton, "seein'--seein'Chestnut's got a female--a woman--a lady cashier--there! Guess them SanFrancisco saloons ain't the only ones that knows what's what--not any!"

"I don't b'leeve a word of it, " said the judge, washing his hands ratherhastily; "but I'll jest see for myself. "

Cairo Jake looked thoughtfully on the retreating form of the judge, andremarked:

"He'll feel ashamed of hisself when he gits thar an' finds he'll hev todrink alone. Reckon I'll go up, jest to keep him from feelin' bad. "

Several others seemed impressed by the same idea, and moved quitebriskly in the direction of Chestnut's saloon. 

The judge, protected by his age and a pair of green spectacles, boldlyentered, while his followers dispersed themselves sheepishly justoutside the open door, past which they marched and re-marched asindustriously as a lot of special sentries. 

There was no doubt about it. Chestnut had installed a lady at the end ofthe bar, and as, between breakfast and dinner, there was but littlebusiness done at the saloon, the lady was amusing herself by weighingcorks and pebbles in the tiny scales which were to weigh the metallicequivalent for refreshments. 

The judge contemplated the arrangements with considerable satisfaction, and immediately called up all thirsty souls present. 

Those outside the door entered with the caution of veterans in anenemy's country, and with a bashfulness that was painful to contemplate. They stood before the bar, they glanced cautiously to the right, andgently inclined their heads backward, until only a line of eyes andnoses were visible from the cashier's desk. 

Then the judge raised his green glasses a moment, and smiled benignantlyon the new cashier as he raised his liquor aloft; then he turned to hisparty, and they drank the toast as solemnly as if they were the soldiersof Miles Standish fortifying the inner man against fear of the Pequods. Then they separated into small groups, and conversed gravely on subjectsin which they had not the slightest interest, while each one pretendednot to look toward the cashier, and each one saw what the others wereearnestly striving to do. 

But when the judge settled the score, and chatted for several minuteswith the receiver of treasure, and the lady--young, and rather pretty, and quite pleasant and modest and business-like--laughed merrily atsomething the judge said, an idea gradually dawned upon the bystanders, and within a few moments the boys feverishly awaited their chances totreat the crowd, for the sole purpose of having an excuse to speak tothe new cashier, and to stand within three feet of her for about thespace of a minute. 

Great was the excitement on the Creek when the party returned, andtestified to the entire accuracy of London George's report. 

Every one went to the saloon that night--there _had_ been some gamesarranged to take place at certain huts, but they were postponed bymutual consent. 

Even the Dominie--an ex-preacher, who had never yet set foot upon theprofane floor of the saloon--appeared there that evening in search ofsome one so exceeding hard to find that the Dominie was compelled tomake several tours of all the tables and benches in the room. 

Chestnut himself, when questioned, said she had come by the way of theIsthmus with her father and mother, who had both died of the Chagresfever before reaching San Francisco--that some friends of her family andhis had been trying to get her something to do in 'Frisco, and that hehad engaged her at an ounce a day; and, furthermore, that he would begreatly obliged if the boys at Quicksilver wouldn't marry her before shehad worked out her passage-money from 'Frisco, which he had advanced. But the boys at Quicksilver were not so thoughtful of Chestnut'sinterests as they might have been. They began to buy blacking andneckties and white shirts, and to patronize the barber. 

No one had any opportunity for love-making, for the lady's working hourswere all spent in public, and in a business which caused frequentinterruptions of even the most agreeable conversation. 

It soon became understood that certain men had proposed and beendeclined, and betting on who would finally capture the lady was the mostpopular excitement in camp. 

Cool-headed betting men watched closely the countenance of Sunrise (assome effusive miner had named the new cashier) as each man approached topay in his coin or dust, and though they were intensely disgusted by itsrevelations, they unhesitatingly offered two to one that Dominie wouldbe the fortunate man. 

To be sure, she saw less of the Dominie than of any one else, for, though he did not drink, or pay for the liquor consumed by any one else, he occasionally came in to get a large coin changed, and then it wasnoticed that Sunrise regarded him with a sort of earnestness which shenever exhibited toward any one else. 

"Too bad!" sighed Cairo Jake. "Somebody ort to tell her that he's only apreacher, an' she'll only throw herself away ef she takes him. Ef anystranger wuz to insult her, Dominie wouldn't be man 'nuff to draw onhim. "

"Beats thunder, though!" sighed Redbank, "how them preachers kin takefolks in. Thar's Chestnut himself, _he's_ took with Dominie--'stead oforderin' him out, he talks with him an' her just ez ef he'd as lieve getrid of her as not. "

[Illustration: TOM WALKED RAPIDLY TO THE CASHIER'S DESK, AND GAVESUNRISE SEVERAL HEARTY KISSES. ]

"Boat's a-comin'!" shouted Cairo Jake, looking toward the place, half amile below, where the creek emptied into the river. "See her smoke? Like'nuff Tom Chafflin's on board. He wuz a-goin' to try to come back by thefirst boat, an' of course he's done it--jest his luck. Ef he'd only comesooner, somebody besides the preacher would hev got her--you kin justbet your bottom ounce on it. Let's go down an' see ef he's got anynews. "

Several miners dropped tools and pans, and followed Jake to the landing, and gave a hearty welcome to Tom Chafflin. 

He certainly looked like anything but a lucky man; he was good-looking, and seemed smart, but his face wore a dismal expression, which seemeddecidedly out of place on the countenance of a habitually lucky man. 

"Things hain't gone right, Tom?" asked Cairo Jake. 

"Never went worse, " declared Tom, gloomily. "Guess I'll sell out, an'try my luck somewheres else. "

"_Ef_ you'd only come a little sooner!" sighed Jake, "you'd hev hed achance that would hev made ev'rything seem to go right till JudgmentDay. I'll show yer. "

Jake opened the saloon-door, and there sat Sunrise, as bright, modest, and pleasant-looking as ever. 

With the air of a man who has conferred a great benefit, and is calmlyawaiting his rightful reward, Jake turned to Tom; but his expressionspeedily changed to one of hopeless wonder, and then to one of delight, as Tom Chafflin walked rapidly up to the cashier's desk, pushed theDominie one side and the little scales the other, and gave Sunriseseveral very hearty kisses, to which the lady didn't make the slightestobjection--in fact, she blushed deeply, and seemed very happy. 

"That's what I went to 'Frisco to look for, " explained Tom, to thestaring bystander, "but I couldn't find out a word about her. "

"Don't wonder yer looked glum, then, " said Cairo Jake; "but--but it'sjest your luck!"

"Dominie here was going down to hurry you back, " said Sunrise; "but--"

"But we'll give him a different job now, my dear, " said Tom, completingthe sentence. 

And they did. 

OLD TWITCHETT'S TREASURE. 

Old Twitchett was in a very bad way. He must have been in a bad way, forCrockey, the extremely mean storekeeper at Bender, had given up his ownbed to Twitchett, and when Crockey was moved with sympathy for any one, it was a sure sign that the object of his commiseration was going tosoon stake a perpetual claim in a distant land, whose very streets, weare told, are of precious metal, and whose walls and gates are of rareand beautiful stones. 

It was Twitchett's own fault, the boys said, with much sorrowfulprofanity. When they abandoned Black Peter Gulch to the Chinese, andlocated at Bender, Twitchett should have come along with the crowd, instead of staying there by himself, in such an unsociable way. Perhapshe preferred the society of rattlesnakes and horned toads to that ofhigh-toned, civilized beings--there was no accounting for tastes--butthen he should have remembered that all the rattlesnakes in the valleycouldn't have raised a single dose of quinine between them, and that themost sociable horned toad in the world, and the most obliging one, couldn't fry a sick man's pork, or make his coffee. 

But, then, Twitchett was queer, they agreed--he always was queer. Hekept himself so much apart from the crowd, that until to-night, when theboys were excited about him, few had ever noticed that he was awhite-haired, delicate young man, instead of a decrepit old one, andthat the twitching of his lips was rather touching than comical. 

At any rate it was good for Twitchett that two old residents of BlackPeter Gulch had, ignorant of the abandonment of the camp, revisited it, and accidentally found him insensible, yet alive, on the floor of hishut. They had taken turns in carrying him--for he was wasted andlight--until they reached Crockey's store, and when they laid him down, while they should drink, the proprietor of the establishment (so said apessimist in the camp), seeing that his presence, while he lived, anduntil he was buried, would attract trade and increase the demand fordrinks, insisted on putting Twitchett between the proprietary blankets. 

Twitchett had rallied a little, thanks to some of Crockey's best brandy, but it was evident to those who saw him that when he left Crockey's hewould be entirely unconscious of the fact. Suddenly Twitchett seemed torealize as much himself, and to imagine that his exit might be made verysoon, for he asked for the men who brought him in, and motioned to themto kneel beside him. 

"I'm very grateful, boys, for your kindness--I wish I could reward you;but haven't got anything--I've got nothing at all. The only treasure Ihad I buried--buried it in the hut, when I thought I was going to diealone--I didn't wan't those heathens to touch it. I put it in a can--Iwish you'd git it, and--it's a dying man's last request--take it--and--"

If Twitchett finished his remark, it was heard only by auditors in somelocality yet unvisited by Sam Baker and Boylston Smith, who still kneltbeside the dead man's face, and with averted eyes listened for theremainder of Twitchett's last sentence. 

Slowly they comprehended that Twitchett was in a condition which, according to a faithful proverb, effectually precluded the telling oftales; then they gazed solemnly into each other's faces, and each manplaced his dexter fore-finger upon his lips. Then Boylston Smithwhispered:

"Virtue is its own reward--hey, Sam?"

"You bet, " whispered Mr. Baker, in reply. "It's on the square now, between us?"

"Square as a die, " whispered Boylston. 

"When'll we go for it?" asked Sam Baker. 

"Can't go till after the fun'ril, " virtuously whispered Boylston. "'Twould be mighty ungrateful to go back on the corpse that's made ourfortunes. "

"Fact, " remarked Mr. Baker, holding near the nostrils of Old Twitchett apocket-mirror he had been polishing on his sleeve. After a few secondshe examined the mirror, and whispered:

"Nary a sign--might's well tell the boys. "

The announcement of Twitchett's death was the signal for an animateddiscussion and considerable betting. How much dust he had washed, andwhat he had done with it, seeing that he neither drank nor gambled, wasthe sole theme of discussion. There was no debate on the deceased'sreligious evidences--no distribution of black crape--no tearful beatingdown of the undertaker; these accessories of a civilized deathbed wereall scornfully disregarded by the bearded men who had feelingly drank toTwitchett's good luck in whatever world he had gone to. But when it cameto deceased's gold--his money--the bystanders exhibited an interestwhich was one of those touches of nature which certifies the universalkinship. 

Each man knew all about Twitchett's money, though no two agreed. He hadhid it--he had been unlucky, and had not found much--he had slyly sentit home--he had wasted it by sending it East for lottery tickets whichalways drew blanks--he had been supporting a benevolent institution. OldDeacon Baggs mildly suggested that perhaps he only washed out such goldas he actually needed to purchase eatables with, but the boys smiledderisively--they didn't like to laugh at the deacon's gray hairs, but he_was_ queer. 

Old Twitchett was buried, and Sam Baker and Boylston Smith reverentlyuncovered with the rest of the boys, while Deacon Baggs made anextempore prayer. But for the remainder of the day Old Twitchett'sadministrators foamed restlessly about, and watched each other narrowly, and listened to the conversation of every group of men who seemed to betalking with any spirit; they kept a sharp eye on the trail to BlackPeter Gulch, lest some unscrupulous miner should suspect the truth andconstitute himself sole legatee. 

But when the shades of evening had gathered, and a few round drinks hadstimulated the citizens to more spirited discussion, Sam and Boylstonstrode rapidly out on the Black Peter Gulch trail, to obtain the rewardof virtue. 

"He didn't say what kind of a can it was, " remarked Mr. Baker, after theoutskirts of Bender had been left behind. 

"Just what I thought, " replied Boylston; "pity he couldn't hev lastedlong enough for us to hev asked him. But I've been a-workin' some sumsabout different kinds of cans--I learned how from Phipps, thisafternoon--he's been to college, an' his head's cram-full of sechpuzzlin' things. It took multiplyin' with four figures to git theanswer, but I couldn't take a peaceful drink till I knowed somethin''bout how the find would pan out. "

"Well?" inquired Mr. Baker, anathematizing a stone over which he hadjust stumbled. 

"Well, " replied Boylston, stopping in an exasperating manner to lighthis pipe, "the smallest can a-goin' is a half-pound powder-can, andthat'll hold over two thousand dollars worth--even _that_ wouldn't bebad for a single night's work--eh?"

"Just so, " responded Mr. Baker; "then there's oyster-cans an'meat-cans. "

"Yes, " said Boylston, "an' the smallest of 'em's good fur ten thousand, ef it's full. An' when yer come to five-pound powders--why, one of themwould make two fellers rich!"

They passed quickly and quietly through Greenhorn's Bar. The diggingsat the Bar were very rich, and experienced poker-players, such as wereTwitchett's executors, had made snug little sums in a single night outof the innocent countrymen who had located at the Bar; but what were thechances of the most brilliant game to the splendid certainty which laybefore them?

They reached Black Peter Gulch and found Twitchett's hut stillunoccupied, save by a solitary rattlesnake, whose warning scared themnot. Mr. Baker carefully covered the single window with his coat, andthen Boylston lit a candle and examined the clay floor. There wereseveral little depressions in its surface, and in each of these Boylstonvigorously drove his pick, while Mr. Baker stood outside alternatelylooking out for would-be disturbers, and looking in through a crack inthe door to see that his partner should not, in case he found the can, absentmindedly spill some of the contents into his own pocket before hemade a formal division. 

Boylston stopped a moment for breath, leaned on his pick, stroked hisyellow beard thoughtfully, and offered to bet that it would be anoyster-can. Mr. Baker whispered through the crack that he would takethat bet, and make it an ounce. 

Boylston again bent to the labor, which, while it wearied his body, seemed to excite his imagination, for he paused long enough to bet thatit would be a five-pound powder-can, and Mr. Baker, again willing tofortify himself against possible loss, accepted the bet in ounces. 

Suddenly Boylston's pick brought to light something yellow andround--something the size of an oyster-can, and wrapped in a piece ofoilskin. 

"You've won _one_, bet, " whispered Mr. Baker, who was inside before theyellow package had ceased rolling across the floor. 

"Not ef _this_ is it, " growled Boylston; "it don't weigh more'n ouncecan, wrapper and all. Might's well see what 'tis, though. "

The two men approached the candle, hastily tore off the oilskin, andcarefully shook the contents from the can. The contents proved to be asmall package, labeled: "_My only treasures_. "

Boylston mentioned the name of the arch-adversary of souls, while Mr. Baker, with a well-directed blow of his heel, reduced the can from acylindrical form to one not easily described by any geometric term. 

Unwrapping the package, Mr. Baker discovered a picture-case, which, whenopened, disclosed the features of a handsome young lady; while from thewrappings fell a small envelope, which seemed distended in the middle. 

"Gold in that, mebbe, " suggested Boylston, picking it up and opening it. It _was_ gold; fine, yellow, and brilliant, but not the sort of gold thedead man's friends were seeking, for it was a ringlet of hair. 

Sadly Mr. Baker put on his coat, careless of the light which streamedthrough the window; slowly and sorely they wended their way homeward;wrathfully they bemoaned their wasted time, as they passed by theauriferous slumberers of Greenhorn's Bar; depressing was the generalnature of their conversation. Yet they were human in spite of theirdisappointment, for, as old Deacon Baggs, who was an early riser, strolled out in the gray dawn for a quiet season of meditation, he sawBoylston Smith filling up a little hole he had made on top of OldTwitchett's grave, and putting the dirt down very tenderly with hishands. 

BLIZZER'S WIFE. 

The mining-camp of Tough Case, though small, had its excitements, aswell as did many camps of half a dozen saloon-power; and on the firstday of November, 1850, it was convulsed by the crisis of by far thegreatest excitement it had ever enjoyed. 

It was not a lucky "find, " for some of the largest nuggets in the Statehad been taken out at Tough Case. It was not a grand spree, for _all_sprees at Tough Case were grand, and they took place every Sunday. Itwas not a fight, for when the average of fully-developed fights fellbelow one a fortnight, some patriotic citizen would improvise one, thatthe honor of his village should not suffer. 

No; all these promoters of delicious and refreshing Tumult were asnothing to the agitation which, commencing three months before, hadincreased and taken firmer hold of all hearts at Tough Case, untilto-day it had reached its culmination. 

Blizzer's wife had come out, and was to reach camp by that day's boat. 

Since Blizzer had first announced his expectation, every man in camp hadbeen secretly preparing for the event; but to-day all secrecy was at anend, and white shirts, standing collars, new pants, black hats, polishedboots, combs, brushes and razors, and even hair-oil and whitehandkerchiefs, so transformed the tremulous miners, that a smartdetective would have been puzzled in looking for any particular citizenof Tough Case. 

Even old Hatchetjaw, whose nickname correctly indicated the moralimport of his countenance, sheepishly gave Moosoo, the old Frenchman, anounce of gold-dust for an hour's labor bestowed on Hatchetjaw'sself-asserting red hair. 

Bets as to what she looked like were numerous; and, as no one had theslightest knowledge on the subject, experienced bettists made handsomefortunes in betting against every description which was backed by money. For each man had so long pondered over the subject, that his idealportrait seemed to him absolutely correct; and an amateur phrenologist, who had carefully studied Blizzer's cranium and the usually acceptedlaws of affinity, consistently bet his last ounce, his pistol, hut, frying-pan, blankets, and even a pack of cards in a tolerable state ofpreservation. 

Sailors, collegemen, Pikes, farmers, clerks, loafers, andsentimentalists, stood in front of Sim Ripson's store, and stared theireyes into watery redness in vain attempts to hurry the boat. 

A bet of drinks for the crowd, lost by the non-arrival of the boat ontime, was just being paid, when Sim Ripson, whose bar-window commandedthe river, exclaimed:

"She's comin'!"

Many were the heeltaps left in glasses as the crowd hurried to the door;numerous were the stealthy glances bestowed on shirt-cuffs andfinger-nails and boot-legs. Crosstree, a dandyish young sailor, hungback to regard himself in a small fragment of looking-glass he carriedin his pocket, but was rebuked for his vanity by stumbling over thedoor-sill--an operation which finally resulted in his nose being laid upin ordinary. 

The little steamer neared the landing, whistled shrilly, snorteddefiantly, buried her nose in the muddy bank in front of the store, andshoved out a plank. 

Several red-shirted strangers got off, but no one noticed them; at anyother time, so large an addition to the population of Tough Case wouldhave justified an extra spree. 

Sundry barrels were rolled out, but not even old Guzzle inspected thebrand; barrels and bags of onions and potatoes were stacked on the bank, but though the camp was sadly in need of vegetables, no one expressedbecoming exultation. 

All eyes were fixed on the steamer-end of the gang-plank, and everyheart beat wildly as Blizzer appeared, leading a figure displaying onlythe top of a big bonnet and a blanket-shawl hanging on one arm. 

They stepped on the gang-plank, they reached the shore, and then thefigure raised its head and dropped the shawl. 

"Thunder!" ejaculated Fourteenth Street, and immediately retired anddrank himself into a deplorable condition. 

The remaining observers dispersed respectfully; but the reckless mannerin which they wandered through mud-puddles and climbed over barrels andpotato-sacks, indicated plainly that their disappointment had beensevere. 

After another liquid bet had been paid, and while sleeves but latelytenderly protected were carelessly drying damp mustaches, an old minerremarked:

"Reckon that's why he left the States;" and the emphatic "You bet!"which followed his words showed that the Tough Caseites were unanimouson the subject of Mrs. Blizzer. 

For she was short and fat, and had a pug nose, and a cast in one eye;her forehead was low and square, and her hair was of a color whichseemed "fugitive, " as the paper-makers say. Her hands were large andpudgy, her feet afforded broad foundations for the structure above them, and her gait was not suggestive of any popular style. Besides, sheseemed ten years older than her husband, who was not yet thirty. 

For several days boots were allowed to grow rusty and chins unshaven, asthe boys gradually drank and worked themselves into a dumb forgetfulnessof their lately cherished ideals. 

But one evening, during a temporary lull in the conversation at SimRipson's, old Uncle Ben, ex-deacon of a New Hampshire church, lifted uphis voice, and remarked:

"'Pears to me Blizzer's beginnin' to look scrumptious. He used to be theshabbiest man in camp. "

Through the open door the boys saw Blizzer carrying a pail of water; andthough water-carrying in the American manner is not an especiallygraceful performance, Blizzer certainly looked unusually neat. 

Palette, who had spoiled many canvases and paintbrushes in the East, attentively studied Blizzer in detail, and found his hair was combed, his shirt buttoned at the collar, and his trowsers lacking theCalifornia soil which always adorns the seat and knees of orthodoxmining pantaloons. 

"It's her as did it, " said Pat Fadden; "an' 'tain't all she's done. Fhatd'ye tink she did dhis mornin'? I was a-fixin' me pork, jist as iveryother bye in camp allers does it, an' jist then who should come alongbut hersilf. I tuk off me pork, and comminced me breakfast, when sez sheto me, sez she, 'Ye don't ate it widout gravy, do ye?' 'Gravy, is it?'sez I. 'Nobody iver heard of gravy here, ' sez I. 'Thin it's toime, ' sezshe, an' she poured off the fat, an' crumbled a bit of cracker in thepan, an' put in some wather, an' whin I thought the ould thing 'ud blowup for the shteam it made, she poured the gravy on me plate--yes, shedid. "

There were but a few men at Tough Case who were not willing to havetheir daily fare improved, and as Mrs. Blizzer did not make a tour ofinstruction, the boys made it convenient to stand near Mrs. Blizzer'sown fire, and see the mysteries of cooking. 

As a natural consequence, Sim Ripson began to have inquiries forarticles which he had never heard of, much less sold, and he found ahurried trip to 'Frisco was an actual business necessity. 

As several miners took their departure, after one of these culinarylessons, Arkansas Bill, with a mysterious air, took Fourteenth Streetaside. 

"Forty, " said he, in a most appealing tone, "ken _you_ see what 'twasabout? She kep' a-lookin' at my left han' all the time, ez ef she thortthere wuz somethin' the matter with it. Mebbe she thort I was tuckin'biscuits up my sleeves, like keerds in a live game. _Ken_ you see anythin' the matter with that paw?"

The aristocratic young reprobate gave the hand a critical glance, andreplied:

"Perhaps she thought you didn't know what buttons and buttonholes weremade for. "

"Thunder!" exclaimed the miner, with an expression of countenance whichArchimedes might have worn when he made his famous discovery. 

From that day forward the gentleman from Arkansas instituted a rigidbuttonhole inspection before venturing from his hut, besides purchasinga share in a new clothesbroom. 

"'Pears to me I don't see Blizzer playin' keerds with you fellers ezmuch ez he wuz, " remarked Uncle Ben one evening at the store. 

"No, " said Flipp, the champion euchre-player, with a sad face and astrong oath. "He used to lose his ounces like a man. But t'other night Iknocked at his door, and asked him to come down an' hev a han'. Hedidn't say nothin', but _she_ up an' sed he'd stopped playin'. I reelytuk it to be my duty to argy with her, an' show her how tough it wuz tocut off a feller's enjoyment; but she sed 'twas too high-priced fur thefun it fetched. "

"That ain't the wust, nuther, " said Topjack Flipp's usual partner. "There wuz Arkansas Bill an' Jerry Miller, thet used to be ez fond ofther little game ez anybody. Now, ev'ry night they go up thar toBlizzer's, an' jest do nothin' but sit aroun' an' talk. It's enough tomake a marble statoo cuss to see good men spiled that way. "

"Somethin' 'stonishin' 'bout what comes of it, though, " resumed thedeacon. "'Twas only yestiddy thet Bill was kerryin' a bucket of dirt tothe crick, an' jest ez he got there his foot slipped in, an' he wentkerslosh. Knowin' Bill's language on sech occasions ain't what achurch-member ort to hear, I was makin' it convenient to leave, whenalong come _her_, an' he choked off ez suddin ez a feller on thegallers. "

Day by day the boys dug dirt, and carried it to the creek, and washedout the precious gold; day by day the denizens of Tough Case worked asmany hours and as industriously as men anywhere. But no Tough Caseitewas so wicked as to work on Sunday. 

Sunday at Tough Case commenced at sunset on Saturday, after the good oldPuritan fashion, and lasted through until working-time on Mondaymorning. But beyond this matter of time the Puritan parallel could notbe pursued, for on Sunday was transacted all the irregular business ofthe week; on Sunday was done all the hard drinking and heavy gambling;and on Sunday were settled such personal difficulties as were superiorto the limited time and low liquor-pressure of the week. 

The evening sun of the first Saturday of Mrs. Blizzer's residence atTough Case considered his day's work done, and retired under the snowycoverlets the Sierras lent him. The tired miners gladly dropped pick, shovel, and pan, but bedclothing was an article which at that momentthey scorned to consider; there was important business andentertainment, which would postpone sleep for many hours. 

The express would be along in the morning, and no prudent man couldsleep peaceably until he had deposited his gold dust in the company'sstrong box. Then there were two or three old feuds which _might_ come toa head--they always _did_ on Sunday. And above all, Redwing, a man withenormous red whiskers, had been threatening all week to have back themoney Flipp had won from him on the preceding Sunday, and Redwing hadbeen very lucky in his claim all week, and the two men were very nearlymatched, and were magnificent players, so the game promised to last manyhours, and afford handsome opportunities for outside betting. 

Sim Ripson understood his business. By sunset he had all his bottlesfreshly filled, and all his empty boxes distributed about the room forseats, and twice as many candles lighted as usual, and the card-tablesreinforced by some upturned barrels. He also had a neat little woodpileunder the bar to serve as a barricade against stray shots. 

The boys dropped in pleasantly, two or three at a time, and drankmerrily with each other; and the two or three who were not drinking mensauntered in to compare notes with the others. 

There were no aristocrats or paupers at Tough Case, nor any cliques;whatever the men were at home, here they were equal, and Sim Ripson'swas the general gathering-place for everybody. 

But in the course of two or three hours there was a perceptible changeof the general tone at Sim Ripson's--it was so every Saturday night, orSunday morning. Old Hatchetjaw said it was because Sim Ripson's liquorwasn't good; Moosoo, the Frenchman, maintained it was due to the absenceof chivalrous spirit; Crosstree, the sailor, said it was always so withlandsmen; Fourteenth Street privately confided to several that 'twasbecause there was no good blood in camp; the amateur phrenologistascribed it to an undue cerebral circulation; and Uncle Ben, the deacon, insisted upon it that the fiend, personally, was the disturbing element. 

Probably all of them were right, for it seemed impossible that theSunday excitements at Sim Ripson's could proceed from any singlecause--their proportions were too magnificent. 

Drinking, singing, swearing, gambling, and fighting, the Tough Caseitesmade night so hideous that Uncle Ben spent half the night in earnestprayer for these misguided men, and the remainder of it in trying tomake up his mind to start for home. 

But by far the greater number of the boys, on that particular night, surrounded the table at which sat Redwing and Flip. Both were playingtheir best, and as honestly as each was compelled to do by hisadversary's watchfulness. 

Each had several times accused the other of cheating; each had hisrevolver at his right hand; and the crowd about them had the doublepleasure of betting on the game and on which would shoot first. 

Suddenly Redwing arose, as Flipp played an ace on his adversary's lastcard, and raked the dust toward himself. 

"Yer tuk that ace out of yer sleeve--I seed yer do it. Give me back myounces, " said Redwing. 

"It's a lie!" roared the great Flipp, springing to his feet, and seizingRedwing's pistol-arm. 

The weapon fell, and both men clutched like tigers. Sim Ripson leapedover the bar and separated them. 

"No rasslin' here!" said he. "When gentlemen gits too mad to hold in, an' shoots at sight, I hev to stan' it, but rasslin's vulgar--you'll hevto go out o' doors to do it. "

"I'll hev it out with him with pistols, then!" cried Redwing, picking uphis weapon. 

"'Greed!" roared Flip, whose pistol lay on the table. "We'll do it crossthe crick, at daylight. 

"It's daylight now, " said Sim Ripson, hurriedly, after looking out ofhis window at the end of the bar. 

He was a good storekeeper, was Sam Ripson, and he knew how to mixdrinks, but he had an unconquerable aversion to washing blood stains outof the floor. 

The two gamblers rushed out of the door, pistols in hand, and the crowdfollowed, each man talking at the top of his voice, and betting on thechances of the combatants. 

Suddenly, above all the noise, they heard a cracked soprano voicesinging with some unauthorized flatting and sharping:

 "Another six days' work is done, Another Sabbath is begun. Return, my soul, enjoy thy rest, Improve the day thy God has blessed. "

Redwing stopped, and dropped his head to one side, as if expectingmore; Flipp stopped; everybody did. Arkansas Bill, whose good habits hadbeen laid aside late Saturday afternoon, exclaimed:

"Well, I'll be blowed!"

Bill didn't mean anything of the sort, but the tone in which he said itexpressed precisely the feeling of the crowd. The voice was again heard:

 "Oh, that our thoughts and thanks may rise, As grateful incense to the skies; And draw from heaven that sweet repose Which none but he that feels it knows. "

Redwing turned abruptly on his heel. 

"Keep the ounces, " said he. "Ther's an old woman to hum that thinks asight o' me--I reckon, myself, I'm good fur somethin' besides fillin' ahole in the ground. "

That night Sim Ripson complained that it had been the poorest Sunday hehad ever had at Tough Case; the boys drank, but it was a sort ofnerveless, unbusinesslike way that Sim Ripson greatly regretted; andvery few bets were settled in Sim Ripson's principal stock in trade. 

When Sim finally learned the cause of his trouble, he promptly announcedhis intention of converting Mrs. Blizzer to common sense, and as he hadargued Uncle Ben, first into a perfect frenzy and then into silence, thecrowd considered Mrs. Blizzer's faith doomed. 

Monday morning, bright and early, as men with aching heads were takingtheir morning bitters, Mrs. Blizzer appeared at Sim Ripson's store, andpurchased a bar of soap. 

"Boys heard ye singin' yesterday, " said Sim. 

"Yes?" inquired Mrs. Blizzer. 

"Yes--all of 'em delighted, " said Sim, gallantly. "But ye don't believein no sich stuff, I s'pose, do ye?"

"What stuff?" asked Mrs. Blizzer. 

"Why, 'bout heaven an' hell, an' the Bible, an' all them things. Do yeknow what the Greek fur hell meant? An' do ye know the Bible's all thetime contradictin' itself?" I can show ye--"

"I tell you what I _do_ know, Mr. Ripson, " said the woman; "I know somethings in my heart that no mortal bein' never told me, an' they couldn'tbe skeered out by all the dictionaries an' commentators a-goin; that'swhat I know. "

And Mrs. Blizzer departed, while the astonished theologian sheepishlyadmitted that he owed drinks to the crowd. 

While the ex-deacon, Uncle Ben, was trying to determine to go home, hefound quite a pretty nugget that settled his mind, and he announced thatsame night, at the store, that all his mining property was for sale, ashe was going back East. 

"I'll go with you, Uncle Ben, " said Fourteenth Street. 

The crowd was astounded; men of Fourteenth Street's calibre seldom hadpluck enough to go to the mines, and their getting away, or their doing_any_ thing that required manliness, was of still more unfrequentoccurrence. 

"I know it, " said the young man, translating the glances which met hiseye. "You fellows think I don't amount to much, anyway. Perhaps I don't. I came out here because I fell out with a girl I thought I loved. Sheacted like a fool, and I made up my mind _all_ women were fools. Butthat wife of Blizzer's has shown me more about true womanliness than allthe girls I ever knew, and I'm going back to try it over again. "

One morning a small crowd of early drinkers at Sim Ripson's droppedtheir glasses, yet did not go briskly out to work as usual. In fact, they even hung aloof, in a most ungentlemanly manner, from Jerry Miller, who had just stood treat, and both these departures from the usualcustom indicated that something unusual was the matter. Finally, Topjackremarked:

"He's a stranger, an' typhus is a bad thing to hev aroun', but_somethin'_ 'ort to be done for him. 'Taint the thing to ax furvolunteers, fur it's danger without no chance of pleasin' excitement. Wemight throw keerds aroun', one to each feller in the camp, and him asgets ace of spades is to tend to the poor cuss. "

"I think Jerry ought to go himself, " argued Flipp. 

"He's been exposed already, by lookin' in to the feller's shanty, an'sprob'bly hurt ez bad as he's goin' to be. "

"I might go, " said Sim Ripson, who, in his character of barkeeper, hadto sustain a reputation for bravery and public spirit, "but 'twouldn'tdo to shut up the store, ye know, an' specially the bar--nobody'd stan'it. "

"Needn't trouble yerselves, " said Arkansas Bill, who had entered duringthe conversation; "_she's_ thar. "

"Thunder!" exclaimed Topjack, frowning, and then looking sheepish. 

"Yes, " continued Bill; "she stopped me ez I wuz comin' along, an' sedshe'd jist heerd of it, an' was a-goin'. I tol' her ther' wuz men enoughin camp to look out fur him, but she said she reckoned she could do itbest. Wants some things from 'Frisco, though, an' I'm a-goin' for 'em. "

And Arkansas Bill departed, while the men at Sim Ripson's sneakedguiltily down to the creek. 

For many days the boys hung about the camp's single street everymorning, unwilling to go to work until they had seen Mrs. Blizzer appearin front of the sick man's hut. The boys took turns at carrying water, making fires, and serving Mrs. Blizzer generally, and even paidhandsomely for the chance. 

One morning Mrs. Blizzer failed to appear at the usual hour. The boyswalked about nervously--they smoked many pipes, and took hurried drinks, and yet she did not appear. The boys looked suggestingly at her husband, and he himself appeared to be anxious; but being one of the shiftlesskind, he found anxiety far easier than action. 

Suddenly Arkansas Bill remarked, "I can't stan' it any longer, " andwalked rapidly toward the sick man's hut, and knocked lightly on thedoor, and looked in. There lay the sick man, his eyes partly open, andon the ground, apparently asleep, and with a very purple face, lay Mrs. Blizzer. 

"Do somethin' for her, " gasped the sick man; "give her a chance, forGod's sake. I don't know how long I've been here, but I kind o' woke uplas' night ez ef I'd been asleep; she wuz a-standin' lookin' in myeyes, an' hed a han' on my cheek. 'I b'lieve it's turned, ' sez she, still a-lookin'. After a bit she sez: 'It's turned sure, ' an' all of asudden she tumbled. I couldn't holler--I wish to God I could. "

[Illustration: ARKANSAS BILL KNOCKED LIGHTLY ON THE DOOR, AND LOOKED IN. THERE LAY THE SICK MAN, HIS EYES PARTLY OPEN. AND ON THE GROUND, APPARENTLY ASLEEP, AND WITH PURPLE FACE, LAY MRS. BLIZZER. ]

Arkansas Bill opened the door, and called Blizzer, and the crowdfollowed Blizzer, though at a respectful distance. In a moment Blizzerreappeared with his wife, no longer fat, in his arms, and Arkansas Billhurried on to open Blizzer's door. The crowd halted, and didn't knowwhat to do, until Moosoo, the little Frenchman, lifted his hat, upon, which every man promptly uncovered his head. 

A moment later Arkansas Bill was on Sim Ripson's horse, and gallopingoff for a doctor, and Sim Ripson, who had always threatened sudden deathto any one touching his beloved animal, saw him, and refrained even fromprofanity. The doctor came, and the boys crowded the door to hear whathe had to say. 

"Hum!" said the doctor, a rough miner himself, "new arrival--beenfat--worn out--rainy season just coming on--not much chance. No businessto come to California--ought to have had sense enough to stay home. "

"Look a' here, doctor, " said Arkansas Bill, indignantly; "she's got thisway a-nussin' a feller--stranger, too--that ev'ry _man_ in camp wuzafeard to go nigh. "

"Is that so?" asked the doctor, in a tone considerably softened; "thenshe shall get well, if my whole time and attention can bring it about. "

The sick woman lay in a burning fever for days, and the boysindustriously drank her health, and bet heavy odds on her recovery. Nosinging was 'allowed anywhere in camp, and when an old feud broke outafresh between two miners, and they drew their pistols, a committee wasappointed to conduct them at least two miles from camp, before allowingthem to shoot. 

The Sundays were allowed to pass in the commonplace quietness peculiarto the rest of the week, and men who were unable to forego their regularweekly spree were compelled to emigrate. Sim Ripson, though admittingthat the change was decidedly injurious to his business, declared thathe would cheerfully be ruined in business rather than have that womandisturbed; he was ever heard to say that, though of course there was nosuch place as heaven, there _ought_ to be, for such woman. 

One evening, as the crowd were quietly drinking and betting, ArkansasBill suddenly opened the door of the store, and cried: "She's mendin'!The fever's broke--'sh-h!"

"My treat, boys, " said Sim Ripson, hurrying glasses and favorite bottleson the bar. 

The boys were just clinking glasses with Blizzer himself, who, duringhis wife's absence and illness, had drifted back to the store, whenArkansas Bill again opened the door. 

"She's a-sinkin', all of a sudden!" he gasped. "Blizzer, yer wanted. "

The two men hurried away, and the crowd poured out of the store. By thelight of a fire in front of the hut in which the sick woman lay, theysaw Blizzer enter, and Arkansas Bill remain outside the hut, near thedoor. 

The boys stood on one foot, put their hands into their pockets and tookthem out again, snapped their fingers, and looked at each other, as ifthey wanted to talk about something that they couldn't. Suddenly thedoctor emerged from the hut, and said something to Arkansas Bill, andthe boys saw Arkansas Bill put both hands up to his face. Then the boysknew that their sympathy could help Blizzer's wife no longer. 

Slowly the crowd re-entered the store, and mechanically picked up theyet untasted glasses. Sim Ripson filled a glass for himself, looked asecond at the crowd, and dropping his eyes, raised them again, looked asif he had something to say, looked intently into his glass, as ifespying some irregularity, looked up again, and exclaimed:

"Boys, it's no use--mebbe ther's no hell--mebbe the Bible contradictsitself, but--but ther _is_ a heaven, or such folks would never git theirjust dues. Here's to Blizzer's wife, the best man in camp, an' may theLord send us somebody like her!"

In silence, and with uncovered heads, was the toast drank; and for manydays did the boys mourn for her whose advent brought them suchdisappointment. 

A BOARDING HOUSE ROMANCE. 

I keep a boarding-house. 

If any fair proportion of my readers were likely to be members of my ownprofession, I should expect the above announcement to call forth moresympathetic handkerchiefs than have waved in unison for many a day. ButI don't expect anything of the sort; I know my business too well tosuppose for a moment that any boarding-house proprietor, no matter howfull her rooms, or how good pay her boarders are, ever finds time toread a story. Even if they did, they'd be so lost in wonder at one ofthemselves finding time to _write_ a story, that they'd forget the wholeplot and point of the thing. 

I can't help it, though--I _must_ tell about poor dear Mrs. Perry, evenif I run the risk of cook's overdoing the beef, so that Mr. Bluff, whois English, and the best of pay, can't get the rare cut he loves sowell. Mrs. Perry's story has run in my head so long, that it has made meforget to take change from the grocer at least once to my knowledge, andeven made me lose a good boarder, by showing a room before the bed wasmade up. They say that poets get things out of their heads by writingthem down, and I don't know why boarding-house keepers can't do the samething. 

It's about three months since Mrs. Perry came here to board. I'm verysure about the time, and it was the day I was to pay my quarter's rent, and to-morrow will be quarter-day again; thank the Lord I've got themoney ready. 

I _didn't_ have the money ready then, though, and the landlord left histemper behind him, instead of a receipt, and I was just having a littlecry in my apron, and asking the Lord _why_ it was that a poor lone womanwho was working her finger-ends off should have such a hard time, whenthe door-bell rang. 

"That's the landlord again. _I_ know his ways, the mean wretch!" said Ito myself, hastily rubbing my eyes dry, and making up before the mirrorin the hat-tree as fierce a face as I could. Then I snatched open thedoor, and tried to make believe my heart _wasn't_ in my mouth. 

But the landlord wasn't there, and I've always been a little sorry, forI was looking so savage, that a wee little woman, who _was_ at the door, trembled all over, and started to go down the steps. 

"Don't go, ma'am, " I said, very quickly, with the best smile I could puton (and I think I've been long enough in the business to give the rightkind of a smile to a person that looks like a new boarder). "Don't go--Ithought it was--I thought it was--somebody else that rang. Come in, do. "

She looked as if I was doing her a great honor, and I thought thatlooked like poor pay, but I was too glad at not seeing the landlord justthen to care if I did lose _one_ week's board; besides, she didn't lookas if she _could_ eat much. 

"I see you advertise a small bedroom to let, " said she, lookingappealing-like, as if she was going to beat me down on the strength ofbeing poor. "How much is it a week?"

"Eight dollars, " said I, rather shortly. Seven dollars was all Iexpected to get, but I put on one, so as to be beaten down withoutlosing anything. "I can get eight from a single gentleman, the onlyobjection being that he wants to keep a dog in the back yard. "

"Oh, I'll pay it, " said she, quickly taking out her pocketbook. "I'lltake it for six weeks, anyhow. "

I never felt so ashamed of myself in my life. I made up my mind to reada penitential passage of Scripture as soon as I closed the bargain withher, but, remembering the Book says to be reconciled to your brotherbefore laying your gift on the altar, I says, quick as I could, forfear that if I thought over it again I couldn't be honest:

"You shall have it for seven, my dear madame, if you're going to stay solong, and I'll do your washing without extra charge. "

This last I said to punish myself for suspecting an innocent littlelady. 

"Oh, thank you--thank you _very_ much, " said she, and then she began tocry. 

I knew _that_ wasn't for effect, for we were already agreed on terms, and she had her pocketbook open showing more money that _I_ ever have ata time, unless it's rent-day. 

She tried to stop crying by burying her face in her hands, and it madeher look so much smaller and so pitiful that I picked her right up, asif she was a baby, and kissed her. Then she cried harder, and I--a womanover forty, too--couldn't find anything better to do than to cry withher. 

I knew her whole story within five minutes--knew it perfectly wellbefore I'd fairly shown her the room and got it aired. 

They were from the West, and had been married about a year. She hadn't arelative in the world, but _his_ folks had friends in Philadelphia, sohe'd got a place as clerk in a big clothing factory, at twelve hundreddollars a year. They'd been keeping house, just as cozy as could be infour rooms, and were as happy as anybody in the world, when one night hedidn't come home. 

She was almost frantic about him all night long, and first thing in themorning she was at the factory. She waited until all the clerks gotthere, but George--his name was George Perry--didn't come. Theproprietor was a good-hearted man, and went with her to thepolice-office, and they telegraphed all over the city; but there didn'tseem to be any such man found dead or drunk, or arrested for anything. 

She hadn't heard a word from him since. Her husband's family's friendswere rich--the stuck up brutes!--but they seemed to be annoyed by hercoming so often to ask if there wasn't any other way of looking for him, so she, like the modest, frightened little thing she was, staid awayfrom them. Then somebody told her that New York was the place everybodywent to, so she sold all her furniture and pawned almost all herclothes, and came to New York with about fifty dollars in her pocket. 

"What I'll do when that's gone I don't know, " said she, commencing tocry again, "unless I find George. I won't live on _you_, though, ma'am, "she said, lifting her face up quickly out of her handkerchief; "I won't, indeed. I'll go to the poorhouse first. But--"

Then she cried worse than before, and I cried, too, and took her in myarms, and called her a poor little thing, and told her she shouldn't goto any poorhouse, but should stay with me and be my daughter. 

I don't know how I came to say it, for, goodness knows, I find it hardenough to keep out of the poorhouse myself, but I did say it, and Imeant it, too. 

Her things were all in a little valise, and she soon had the room torights, and when I went up again in a few minutes to carry her a cup oftea, she pointed to her husband's picture which she had hung on thewall, and asked me if I didn't think he was very handsome. 

I said yes, but I'm glad she looked at the tea instead of me, for Ibelieve she'd seen by my face that I didn't like her George. The factis, men look very differently to their wives or sweethearts than they doto older people and to boarding-house keepers. There was nothing viciousabout George Perry's face, but if he'd been a boarder of mine, I'd haveinsisted on my board promptly--not for fear of his trying to cheat me, but because if he saw anything else he wanted, he'd spend his moneywithout thinking of what he owed. 

I felt so certain that he'd got into some mischief or trouble, and wasafraid or ashamed to come back to his wife, that I risked the price ofthree ribs of prime roasting beef in the following "Personal"advertisement:

"GEORGE P. --Your wife don't know anything about it, and is dying to seeyou. Answer through Personals. "

But no answer came, and his wife grew more and more poorly, and Icouldn't help seeing what was the matter with her. Then her money ranout, and she talked of going away, but I wouldn't hear of it. I justtook her to my own room, which was the back parlor, and told her shewasn't to think again of going away; that she was to be my daughter, andI would be her mother, until she found George again. 

I was afraid, for _her_ sake, that it meant we were to be with eachother for ever, for there was no sign of George. 

She wrote to his family in the West, but _they_ hadn't heard anythingfrom him or about him, and they took pains not to invite her there, oreven to say anything about giving her a helping hand. 

There was only one thing left to do, and that was to pray, and pray I_did_, more constantly and earnestly than I ever did before, although, the good Lord knows there _have_ been times, about quarter-day, when Ihaven't kept much peace before the Throne. 

Finally, one day Mrs. Perry was taken unusually bad, and the doctor hadto be sent for in a hurry. We were in her room--the doctor and Mrs. Perry and I--I was endeavoring to comfort and strengthen the poor thing, when the servant knocked, and said a lady and gentleman had come to lookat rooms. 

I didn't _dare_ to lose boarders, for I'd had three empty rooms for amonth, so I hurried into the parlor. I was almost knocked down for asecond, for the gentleman was George Perry, and no mistake, if thepicture his wife had was to be trusted. 

In a second more I was cooler and clearer-headed than I ever was in mylife before. I felt more like an angel of the Lord than a boarding-housekeeper. 

"Kate, " said I, to the servant "show the lady all the rooms. "

Kate stared, for I'd never trusted her, or any other girl, with suchimportant work, and she knew it. She went though, followed by the lady, who, though she seemed a weak, silly sort of thing, I _hated_ with allmy might. Then I turned quickly, and said:

"Don't you want a room for your wife, too, George Perry?"

He stared at me a moment, and then turned pale and looked confused. Thenhe tried to rally himself, and he said:

"You seem to know me, ma'am. "

"Yes, " said I; "and I know Mrs. Perry, too; and if ever a woman neededher husband she does _now_, even if her husband _is_ a rascal. "

He tried to be angry, but he couldn't. He walked up and down the roomonce or twice, his face twitching all the time, and then he said, a wordor two at a time:

"I wish I could--poor girl!--God forgive me!--what _can_ I do?--I wish Iwas dead!"

"You wouldn't be any use to _any_body then but the Evil One, GeorgePerry, and you're not ready to see _him_ just yet, " said I. 

Just then there came a low, long groan from the backroom, and at thesame time some one came into the parlor. I was too excited to notice whoit was; and George Perry, when he heard the groan, stopped short andexclaimed:

"Good God! who's that?"

"Your wife, " said I, almost ready to scream, I was so wrought up. 

He hid his face in his hands, and trembled all over. 

There was half a minute's silence--it seemed half an hour--and then weheard a long, thin wail from a voice that hadn't ever been heard onearth before. 

"What's that?" said Perry, in a hoarse whisper, his eyes starting out ofhis head, and hands thrown up. 

"Your baby--just born, " said I. "Will you take rooms for your family_now_, George Perry?" I asked. 

"_I_ sha'n't stand in the way, " said a voice behind me. 

I turned around quickly, just in time to see, with her eyes full oftears, the woman who had come with George go out the door and shut thehall-door behind her. 

"Thank God!" said George, dropping on his knees. 

"Amen!" said I, hurrying out of the parlor and locking the door behindme. 

I thought if he wanted to pray while on his knees he shouldn't bedisturbed, while if he should suddenly be tempted to follow his latecompanion, _I_ shouldn't be held at the Judgment day for any share ofthe guilt. 

I found the doctor bustling about, getting ready to go, and Mrs. Perrylooking very peaceful and happy, with a little bundle hugged up close toher. 

"I guess the Lord will bring him _now_, " said Mrs. Perry, "if it's onlyto see his little boy. "

"Like enough, my dear, " said I, thanking the Lord for opening thequestion, for my wits were all gone by this time, and I hadn't any moreidea of what to do than the man in the moon; "but, " said I, "He won'tbring him till you're well, and able to bear the excitement. "

"Oh, I could bear it any time now, " said she, very calmly, "It wouldseem just as natural as could be to have him come in and kiss me, andsee his baby and bless it. "

"Would it?" I asked, with my heart all in a dance. "Well, trust the Lordto do just what's right. "

I hurried out and opened the parlor-door. There stood George Perry, changed so I hardly knew him. He seemed years older; his thick lipsseemed to have suddenly grown thin, and were pressed tightly together, and there was such an appealing look from his eyes. 

"Be very careful now, " I whispered, "and you may see them. She expectsyou, and don't imagine anything has gone wrong. "

I took him into the room, and she looked up with a face like what Ihope the angels have. I didn't see anything more, for my eyes filled upall of a sudden, so I hurried up-stairs into an empty room, and spenthalf an hour crying and thanking the Lord. 

There was a pretty to-do at the dinner table that day. I'd intended tohave _souffle_ for desert, and I always make my own _souffles_; but Iforgot everything but the Perrys, and the boarders grumbled awfully. Ididn't care, though; I was too happy to feel abused. 

I don't know how George Perry explained his absence to his wife; perhapshe hasn't done it at all. But I know she seems to be the happiest womanalive, and that _he_ don't seem to care for anything in the world buthis wife and baby. 

As to the woman who came with him to look at a room, I haven't seen hersince; but if she happens to read this story, she may have theconsolation of knowing that there's an old woman who remembers her onegood deed, and prays for her often and earnestly. 

RETIRING FROM BUSINESS. 

What the colonel's business was nobody knew, nor did any one care, particularly. He purchased for cash only, and he never grumbled at theprice of anything that he wanted; who could ask more than that?

Curious people occasionally wondered how, when it had been fully twoyears since the colonel, with every one else, abandoned Duck Creek tothe Chinese, he managed to spend money freely, and to lose considerableat cards and horse-races. In fact, the keeper of that one of the twoChallenge Hill saloons which the colonel did not patronize was onceheard to absentmindedly wonder whether the colonel hadn't a money-millsomewhere, where he turned out double-eagles and "slugs" (the Coast namefor fifty-dollar gold-pieces). 

When so important a personage as a barkeeper indulged publicly in anidea, the inhabitants of Challenge Hill, like good Californianseverywhere, considered themselves in duty bound to give it graveconsideration; so, for a few days, certain industrious professionalgentlemen, who won money of the colonel, carefully weighed some of thebrightest pieces and tested them with acids, and tasted them and sawedthem in two, and retried them and melted them up, and had the lumpsassayed. 

The result was a complete vindication of the colonel, and a loss ofconsiderable custom to the indiscreet barkeeper. 

The colonel was as good-natured a man as had ever been known atChallenge Hill, but, being mortal, the colonel had his occasional timesof despondency, and one of them occurred after a series of races, inwhich he had staked his all on his own bay mare Tipsie, and had lost. 

Looking reproachfully at his beloved animal failed to heal the achingvoid of his pockets, and drinking deeply, swearing eloquently andglaring defiantly at all mankind, were equally unproductive of coin. 

The boys at the saloon sympathized most feelingly with the colonel; theywere unceasing in their invitations to drink, and they even exhibitedconsiderable Christian forbearance when the colonel savagely dissentedwith every one who advanced any proposition, no matter howincontrovertible. 

But unappreciated sympathy grows decidedly tiresome to the giver, and itwas with a feeling of relief that the boys saw the colonel stride out ofthe saloon, mount Tipsie, and gallop furiously away. 

Riding on horseback has always been considered an excellent sort ofexercise, and fast riding is universally admitted to be one of the mosthealthful and delightful means of exhilaration in the world. 

But when a man is so absorbed in his exercise that he will not stop tospeak to a friend; and when his exhilaration is so complete that heturns his eyes from well-meaning thumbs pointing significantly intodoorways through which a man has often passed while seeking bracinginfluences, it is but natural that people should express some wonder. 

The colonel was well known at Toddy Flat, Lone Hand, Blazers, Murderer'sBar, and several other villages through which he passed, and as no onehad been seen to precede him, betting men were soon offering odds thatthe colonel was running away from somebody. 

Strictly speaking they were wrong, but they won all the money that hadbeen staked against them; for within half an hour's time there passedover the same road an anxious-looking individual, who reined up in frontof the principal saloon of each place, and asked if the colonel hadpassed. 

Had the gallant colonel known that he was followed, and by whom, therewould have been an extra election held at the latter place very shortlyafter, for the colonel's pursuer was no other than the constable ofChallenge Hill, and for constables and all other officers of the law thecolonel possessed hatred of unspeakable intensity. 

On galloped the colonel, following the stage-road, which threaded theold mining camps on Duck Creek; but suddenly he turned abruptly out ofthe road, and urged his horse through the young pines and bushes, whichgrew thickly by the road, while the constable galloped rapidly on to thenext camp. 

There seemed to be no path through the thicket into which the colonelhad turned, but Tipsie walked between trees and bushes as if they werebut the familiar objects of her own stable-yard. 

Suddenly a voice from the bushes shouted:

"What's up?"

"Business--_that's_ what, " replied the colonel. 

"It's time, " replied the voice, and its owner--a beardedsix-footer--emerged from the bushes, and stroked Tipsie's nose with thefreedom of an old acquaintance. "We hain't had a nip sence last night, an' thar' ain't a cracker or a handful of flour in the shanty. The oldgal go back on yer?"

"Yes, " replied the colonel, ruefully--lost ev'ry blasted race. 'Twasn't_her_ fault, bless her--she done her level best. Ev'rybody to home?"

"You bet, " said the man. "All ben a-prayin' for yer to turn up with therocks, an' somethin' with more color than spring water. Come on. "

The man led the way, and Tipsie and the colonel followed, and the triosuddenly found themselves before a small log hut, in front of which satthree solemn, disconsolate-looking individuals, who looked appealinglyat the colonel. 

"Mac'll tell yer how 'twas, fellers, " said the colonel, meekly, "whileI picket the mare. "

The colonel was absent but a very few moments, but when he returned eachof the four men was attired in pistols and knives, while Mac wasdistributing some dominoes, made from a rather dirty flour-bag. 

"'Tain't so late as all that, is it?" inquired the colonel. 

"Better be an hour ahead than miss it this _'ere_ night, " said one ofthe four. "I ain't been so thirsty sence I come round the Horn, in '50, an' we run short of water. _Somebody_'ll get hurt ef thar' ain't nobitters on the old concern--they will, or my name ain't Perkins. "

"Don't count yer chickings 'fore they're hetched, Perky, " said one ofthe party, as he adjusted his domino under the rim of his hat. "'S'posin' ther' shud be too many for us?"

"Stiddy, Cranks!" remonstrated the colonel. "Nobody ever gets along efthey 'low 'emselves to be skeered. "

"Fact, " chimed in the smallest and thinnest man of the party. "The Biblesays somethin' mighty hot 'bout that. I disremember dzackly how it goes;but I've heerd Parson Buzzy, down in Maine, preach a rippin' old sermonfrom that text many a time. The old man never thort what a comfort themsermons wus a-goin' to be to a road-agent, though. That time we stoppedSlim Mike's stage, an' he didn't hev no more manners than to draw on me, them sermons wus a perfec' blessin' to me--the thought uv 'em cleared myhead ez quick ez a cocktail. An'--"

"I don't want to disturb Logroller's pious yarn, " interrupted thecolonel; "but ez it's Old Black that's drivin' to-day instid of SlimMike, an' ez Old Black ollers makes his time, hedn't we better vamose?"

The door of the shanty was hastily closed, and the men filed through thethicket until near the road, when they marched rapidly on parallel lineswith it. After about half an hour, Perkins, who was leading, halted, andwiped his perspiring brow with his shirt-sleeve. 

"Far enough from home now, " said he. "'Tain't no use bein' a gentlemanef yer hev to work _too_ hard. "

"Safe enough, I reckon, " replied the colonel. "We'll do the usual; I'llhalt 'em, Logroller'll tend to the driver, Cranks takes the boot, an'Mac an' Perk takes right an' left. An'--I know it's tough--butconsid'rin' how everlastin' eternally hard up we are, I reckon we'llhave to ask contributions from the ladies, too, ef ther's anyaboard--eh, boy?"

"Reckon so, " replied Logroller, with a chuckle that seemed to inspireeven his black domino with a merry wrinkle or two. "What's the use ofwomen's rights ef they don't ever hev a chance of exercisin' 'em? Hevin'ther purses borrowed 'ud show 'em the hull doctrine in a bran-newlight. "

"They're treacherous critters, women is, " remarked Cranks; "some of 'emmight put a knife into a feller while he was 'pologizin'. "

"Ef _you're_ afeard of 'em, " said Perkins, "you ken go back an' clean upthe shanty. "

"Reminds me of what the Bible sez, " said Logroller; "'there's a lion onthe trail; I'll be chawed up, sez the lazy galoot, ' ur words to thateffect. "

"Come, come boys, " interposed the colonel; "don't mix religion an'bizness. They don't mix no more than--Hello, thar's the crack of OldBlack's whip! Pick yer bushes--quick! All jump when I whistle!"

Each man secreted himself near the roadside. The stage came swingingalong handsomely; the inside passengers were laughing heartily aboutsomething, and Old Black was just giving a delicate touch to the flankof the off leader, when the colonel gave a shrill, quick whistle, andthe five men sprang into the road. 

The horses stopped as suddenly as if it was a matter of commonoccurrence, Old Black dropped his reins, crossed his legs, and staredinto the sky, and the passengers all put out their heads with a rapidityequaled only by that with which they withdrew them as they saw thedominoes and revolvers of the road-agents. 

"Seems to be something the matter, gentlemen, " said the colonel, blandly, as he opened the door. "Won't you please git out? Don't troubleyourselves to draw, cos my friend here's got his weapon cocked, an' hisfingers is rather nervous. Ain't got a han'kercher, hev yer?" asked thecolonel of the first passenger who descended from the stage. "Hev? Well, now, that's lucky. Jest put yer hands behind yer, please--so--that'sit. " And the unfortunate man was securely bound in an instant. 

The remaining passengers were treated with similar courtesy, and thenthe colonel and his friends examined the pockets of the captives. OldBlack remained unmolested, for who ever heard of a stage-driver havingmoney?

"Boys, " said the colonel, calling his brother agents aside, andcomparing receipts, "'tain't much of a haul; but there's only one woman, an' she's old enough to be a feller's grandmother. Better let her alone, eh?"

"Like enough she'll pan out more'n all the rest of the stage puttogether, " growled Cranks, carefully testing the thickness of case of agold watch. "Jest like the low-lived deceitfulness of some folks, tohire an old woman to kerry ther money so it 'ud go safe. Mebbe whatshe's got hain't nothin' to some folks thet's got hosses thet ken win'em money at races, but--"

The colonel abruptly ended the conversation, and approached the stage. The colonel was very chivalrous, but Cranks's sarcastic reference toTipsie needed avenging, and as he could not consistently with businessarrangements put an end to Cranks, the old lady would have to suffer. 

"I beg your parding, ma'am, " said the colonel, raising his hat politelywith one hand, while he reopened the coach-door with the other, "butwe're a-takin' up a collection fur some very deservin' object. We _wuz_a-goin' to make the gentlemen fork over the hull amount, but ez theyhain't got enough, we'll hev to bother _you_. "

The old lady trembled, and felt for her pocketbook, and raised hervail. The colonel looked into her face, slammed the stage-door, and, sitting down on the hub of one of the wheels, stared vacantly intospace. 

"Nothin'?" queried Perkins, in a whisper, and with a face full ofgenuine sympathy. 

"No--yes, " said the colonel, dreamily. "That is, untie em and let thestage go ahead, " he continued, springing to his feet. "_I'll_ hurry backto the cabin. "

[Illustration]

And the colonel dashed into the bushes, and left his followers soparalyzed with astonishment, that Old Black afterward remarked that, "efther'd ben anybody to hold the hosses, he could hev cleaned out the hullcrowd with his whip. "

The passengers, now relieved of their weapons, were unbound, andallowed to re-enter the stage, and the door was slammed, upon which OldBlack picked up his reins as coolly as if he had merely laid them downat the station while horses were being changed; then he cracked hiswhip, and the stage rolled off, while the colonel's party hastened backto their hut, fondly inspecting as they went certain flasks they hadobtained while transacting their business with the occupants of thestage. 

Great was the surprise of the road-agents as they entered their hut, forthere stood the colonel in a clean white shirt, and in a suit ofclothing made up from the limited spare wardrobes of the other membersof the gang. 

But the suspicious Cranks speedily subordinated his wonder to hisprudence, as, laying on the table a watch, two pistols, a pocket-book, and a heavy purse, he exclaimed:

"Come, colonel, bizness before pleasure; let's divide an' scatter. Efanybody should hear 'bout it, an' find our trail, an' ketch us with thetraps in our possession, they might--"

"Divide yerselves!" said the colonel, with abruptness and a great oath. "_I_ don't want none of it. "

"Colonel, " said Perkins, removing his own domino, and looking anxiouslyinto the leader's face, "be you sick? Here's some bully brandy I foundin one of the passengers' pockets. "

"I hain't nothin', " replied the colonel. "I'm a-goin', an' I'ma-retirin' from _this_ bizness for ever. "

"Ain't a-goin' to turn evidence?" cried Cranks, grasping the pistol onthe table. 

"I'm a-goin' to make a lead-mine of _you_ ef you don't take that back!"roared the colonel, with a bound, which caused Cranks to drop hispistol, and retire precipitately backward, apologizing as he went. "I'mgoin' to tend to my own bizness, and that's enough to keep _any_ manbusy. Somebody lend me fifty, till I see him again?"

Perkins pressed the money into the colonel's hand, and within twominutes the colonel was on Tipsie's back, and galloping on in thedirection the stage had taken. 

He overtook it, he passed it, and still he galloped on. 

The people at Mud Gulch knew the colonel well, and made it a rule neverto be astonished at anything he did; but they made an exception to therule when the colonel canvassed the principal bar-rooms for men whowished to purchase a horse; and when a gambler, who was flush, obtainedTipsie in exchange for twenty slugs--only a thousand dollars, when thecolonel had always said that there wasn't gold enough on top of theground to buy her--Mud Gulch experienced a decided sensation. 

One or two enterprising persons speedily discovered that the colonel wasnot in a communicative mood, so every one retired to his favoritesaloon, and bet according to his own opinion of the colonel's motivesand actions. 

But when the colonel, after remaining in a barber-shop for half an hour, emerged with his face clean shaven and his hair neatly trimmed andparted, betting was so wild that a cool-headed sporting man speedilymade a fortune by betting against every theory that was advanced. 

Then the colonel made a tour of the stores, and fitted himself to a newsuit of clothes, carefully eschewing all of the generous patterns andpronounced colors so dear to the average miner. He bought a new hat, puton a pair of boots, and pruned his finger-nails, and, stranger than all, he mildly but firmly declined all invitations to drink. 

As the colonel stood in the door of the principal saloon, where thestage always stopped, the Challenge Hill constable was seen to approachthe colonel, and tap him on the shoulder, upon which all men who had betthat the colonel was dodging somebody claimed the stakes. But those whostood near the colonel heard the constable say:

"Colonel, I take it all back, an' I own up fair an' square. When I seedyou git out of Challenge Hill, it come to me all of a sudden that youmight be in the road-agent business, so I followed you--duty, you know. But after I seed you sell Tipsie, I knowed I was on the wrong trail. Iwouldn't suspect you now if all the stages in the State was robbed; an'I'll give you satisfaction any way you want it. "

"It's all right, " said the colonel, with a smile. The constableafterward said that nobody had any idea of how curiously the colonelsmiled when his beard was off. "Give this fifty to Jim Perkins fust timeyer see him? I'm leavin' the State. "

Suddenly the stage pulled up at the door with a crash, and the malepassengers hurried into the saloon, in a state of utter indignation andimpecuniosity. 

The story of the robbery attracted everybody, and during the excitementthe colonel slipped quietly out, and opened the door of the stage. Theold lady started, and cried:

"George!"

And the colonel, jumping into the stage, and putting his arms tenderlyabout the trembling form of the old lady, exclaimed:

"Mother!"

[Illustration: THE OLD LADY CRIED, "GEORGE!" AND THE COLONEL EXCLAIMED, "MOTHER!"]

THE HARDHACK MISTAKE. 

Excitement? The venerable Deacon Twinkham, the oldest inhabitant, saidthere had not been such an excitement at Hardhack since themeeting-house steeple blew down in a terrible equinoctial, forty-sevenyears before. 

And who could wonder?

Even a larger town than Hardhack would have experienced unusualagitation at seeing one of its own boys, who had a few years before goneaway poor, slender and twenty, come back with broad shoulders, a fullbeard, and a pocketful of money, dug out of the ugly hills of Nevada. 

But even the return of Nathan Brown, in so unusual a condition for aHardhackian to be found in, was not the fullness of Hardhack'sexcitement, for Nathan had brought with him Tom Crewne and Harry Faxton, two friends he had made during his absence, and both of thembroad-shouldered, full-bearded, and auriferous as Nathan himself. 

No wonder the store at Hardhack was all the while crowded with those whoknew all about Nathan, or wanted to--no wonder that "Seen 'm?" was thepassing form of salutation for days. 

The news spread like wildfire, and industrious farmers deliberately tooka day, drove to town, and stood patiently on the door-steps of the storeuntil they had seen one or more of the wonderful men. 

The good Deacon Twinkham himself, who had, at a late prayer-meeting, stated that "his feet already felt the splashin' of Jordan's waves, "temporarily withdrew his aged limbs from the rugged banks famed in song, and caused them to bear him industriously up and down the Ridge Road, past Nathan's mother's house, until he saw all three of the beardedCroesuses seat themselves on the piazza to smoke. Then he departed, hisgood face affording an excellent study for a "Simeon in the Temple. "

Even the peaceful influences of the Sabbath were unable to restoretranquillity to Hardhack. 

On Sunday morning the meeting-house was fuller than it had been sincethe funeral services of the last pastor. At each squeak of the door, every head was quickly turned; and when, in the middle of the firsthymn, the three ex-miners filed decorously in, the staring organist heldone chord of "Windham" so long that the breath of the congregation wasentirely exhausted. 

The very pulpit itself succombed to the popular excitement; and theReverend Abednego Choker, after reading of the treasures of Solomon'sTemple, and of the glories of the New Testament, for the first andsecond lessons, preached from Isaiah xlvi. 6: "They lavish gold out ofthe bag and weigh silver in the balance. "

But all this excitement was as nothing compared with the tumult whichagitated the tender hearts of the maidens at Hardhack. 

Young, old, handsome, plain, smart and stupid, until now few of them haddared to hope for a change of name; for, while they possessed as manymental and personal charms as girls in general, all the enterprisingboys of Hardhack had departed from their birthplace in search of thelucre which Hardback's barren hills and lean meadows failed to supply, and the cause of their going was equally a preventive of the coming ofothers to fill their places. 

But now--oh, hope!--here were three young men, good-looking, rich, and--if the other two were fit companions for the well-born and bredNathan--all safe custodians for tender hearts. 

Few girls were there in Hardhack who did not determine, in theirinnermost hearts, to strive as hard as Yankee wit and maiden modestywould allow for one of those tempting prizes. 

Nor were they unaided. Rich and respectable sons-in-law are scarceenough the world over, so it was no wonder that all the parents ofmarriageable daughters strove to make Hardhack pleasant for the youngmen. 

Fathers read up on Nevada, and cultivated the three ex-miners; mothersransacked cook-books and old trunks; Ladies' Companions wereindustriously searched for pleasing patterns; crimping-irons andcurling-tongs were extemporized, and the demand for ribbons andtrimmings became so great that the storekeeper hurried to the city for afresh supply. 

Then began that season of mad hilarity and reckless dissipation, whichseemed almost a dream to the actors themselves, and to which patrioticHardhackians have since referred to with feelings like those of thedevout Jew as he recalls the glorious deeds of his forefathers, or ofthe modern Roman as, from the crumbling arches of the Coliseum, heconjures up the mighty shade of the Cæsarian period. 

The fragrant bohea flowed as freely as champagne would have done in aless pious locality; ethereal sponge-cakes and transparentcurrant-jellies became too common to excite comment; the surroundingcountry was heavily drawn upon for fatted calves, chickens and turkeys, and mince-pies were so plenty, that observing children wondered if theGovernor had not decreed a whole year of special Thanksgiving. 

Bravely the three great catches accepted every invitation, and, thoughit was a very unusual addition to his regular duties, the ReverendAbednego Choker faithfully attended all the evening festivities, to theend that they might be decorously closed with prayer, as had from timeimmemorial been the custom of Hardhack. 

And the causes of all these efforts on the part of Hardhack societyenjoyed themselves intensely. Young men of respectable inclinations, whohave lived for several years in a society composed principally ofscoundrels, and modified only by the occasional presence of an honestminer or a respectable mule-driver, would have considered as Elysium aplace far less proper and agreeable than Hardhack. In fact, the trio wasso delighted, that its eligibility soon became diminished in quantity. 

Faxton, at one of the first parties, made an unconditional surrender toa queenly damsel, while Nathan, having found his old schooldaysweetheart still unmarried, whispered something in her ear (probably thesecret of some rare cosmetic), which filled her cheeks with roses fromthat time forth. 

But Crewne, the handsomest and most brilliant of the three, stillremained, and over him the fight was far more intense than in theopening of the campaign, when weapons were either rusty or untried, andthe chances of success were seemingly more numerous. 

But to designate any particular lady as surest of success seemedimpossible. Even Nathan and Faxton, when besought for an opinion by thetwo ladies who now claimed their innermost thoughts, could only say thatno one but Crewne knew, and perhaps even _he_ didn't. 

Crewne was a very odd boy, they said--excellent company, the best ofgood fellows, the staunchest of friends, and the very soul of honor; butthere were some things about him they never _could_ understand. In fact, he was something like that sum of all impossibilities, a schoolgirl'shero. 

"But, Harry, " said the prospective Mrs. Faxton, with rather an angrypout for a Church-member in full communion, "just see what splendidgirls are dying for him! I'm sure there are no nicer girls anywhere thanin Hardhack, and he needn't be so stuck up--"

"My dear, " interrupted Faxton, "I say it with fear and trembling, butperhaps Crewne don't want to be in love at all. "

An indignant flash of doubt went over the lady's face. 

"Just notice him at a party, " continued Faxton. "He seems to distributehis attentions with exact equality among all the ladies present, as ifhe were trying to discourage the idea that he was a marrying man. "

"Well, " said the lady, still indignant, "I think you might ask him andsettle the matter. "

"Excuse me, my dear, " replied Faxton. "I have seen others manifest aninterest in Crewne's affairs, and the result was discouraging. I'drather not try the experiment. "

A few mornings later Mrs. Leekins, who took the place of a newspaper atHardhack, was seen hurrying from house to house on her own street, andsuch housekeepers as saw her instantly discovered that errands must bemade to houses directly in Mrs. Leekins's route. 

Mrs. Leekins's story was soon told. Crewne had suddenly gone to thecity, first purchasing the cottage which Deacon Twinkham had builtseveral years before for a son who had never come back from sea. 

Crewne had hired old Mrs. Bruff to put the cottage to rights, and toarrange the carpets and furniture, which he was to forward immediately. But who was to be mistress of the cottage Mrs. Leekins was unable totell, or even to guess. 

The clerks at the store had been thoroughly pumped; but while theyadmitted that one young lady had purchased an unusual quantity ofinserting, another had ordered a dress pattern of gray empress cloth, which was that year the fashionable material and color for travelingdresses. 

Old Mrs. Bruff had received unusual consideration and unlimited tea, buteven the most systematic question failed to elicit from her anythingsatisfactory. 

At any rate, it was certain that Crewne was absent from Hardhack, and itwas evident that _he_ had decided who was to be the lady of the cottage, so the season of festivity was brought to an abrupt close, and thedigestions of Hardhack were snatched from ruin. 

From kitchen-windows were now wafted odors of boiled corned beef andstewed apples, instead of the fragrance of delicate preserves anddelicious turkey. 

Young ladies, when they met in the street, greeted each, other with ashade less of cordiality than usual, and fathers and mothers in Israelcast into each other's eyes searching and suspicious glances. 

One afternoon, when the pious matrons of Hardhack were gathering at thepastor's residence to take part in the regular weekly mothers'prayer-meeting, the mail-coach rolled into town, and Mrs. Leekins, whowas sitting by the window, as she always did, exclaimed:

"He's come back--there he is--on the seat with the driver!"

Every one hurried to the window, and saw that Mrs. Leekins had spokentruly, for there sat Crewne with a pleasant smile on his face, while ontop of the stage were several large trunks marked C. 

[Illustration: THE SISTERS HASTENED TO THE WINDOW. ]

"Must have got a handsome fit-out, " suggested Mrs. Leekins. 

The stage stopped at the door of Crewne's new cottage, and Crewne gotout. The pastor entered the parlor to open the meeting, and wasselecting a hymn, when Mrs. Leekins startled the meeting by ejaculating:

"Lands alive!"

The meeting was demoralized; the sisters hastened to the window, and thegood pastor, laying down his hymn-book, followed in time to see Crewnehelping out a well-dressed and apparently young and handsome lady. 

"Hardhack girls not good 'nough for him, it seems!" sneered Mrs. Leekins. 

A resigned and sympathetic sigh broke from the motherly lips present, then Mrs. Leekins cried:

"Gracious sakes! married a widder with children!"

It certainly seemed that she told the truth, for Crewne lifted outtwo children, the youngest of whom seemed not more than three years old. 

The gazers abruptly left the window, and the general tone of the meetingwas that of melancholy resignation. 

 * * * * *

"Why didn't he ever say he was a married man?" asked the prospectiveMrs. Faxton, of her lover, that evening. 

"Partly because he is too much of a gentleman to talk of his ownaffairs, " replied Faxton; "but principally because there had been, as hetold me this afternoon, an unfortunate quarrel between them, which drovehim to the mines. A few days ago he heard from her, for the first timein three years, and they've patched up matters, and are very happy. "

"Well, " said the lady, with considerable decision, "Hardhack will neverforgive him. "

Hardhack did, however, for Crewne and his two friends drew about them afew of their old comrades, who took unto themselves wives from thepeople about them, and made of Hardhack one of the pleasantest villagesin the State. 

THE CARMI CHUMS. 

The Carmi Chums was the name they went by all along the river. Mostother roustabouts had each a name of his own; so had the Carmi Chums forthat matter, but the men themselves were never mentionedindividually--always collectively. 

No steamboat captain who wanted only a single man ever attempted to hirehalf of the Carmi Chums at a time--as easy would it have been to havehired half of the Siamese Twins. No steamboat mate who knew them everattempted to "tell off" the Chums into different watches, and any matewho, not knowing them, committed this blunder, and adhered to it afterexplanation was made, was sure to be two men short immediately afterleaving the steamer's next landing. 

There seemed no possible way of separating them; they never fell outwith each other in the natural course of events; they never fought whendrunk, as other friendly roustabouts sometimes did, for the Carmi Chumsnever got drunk; there never sprang up any coolness between them becauseof love for the same lady, for they did not seem to care at all forfemale society, unless they happened to meet some old lady whom onemight love as a mother rather than as a sweetheart. 

Even professional busybodies, from whose presence roustabouts are nofreer than Church-members, were unable to provoke the Carmi Chums evento suspicion, and those of them who attempted it too persistently werelikely to have a difficulty with the slighter of the Chums. 

This man, who was called Black, because of the color of his hair, wasapparently forty years of age, and of very ordinary appearance, exceptwhen an occasional furtive, frightened look came into his face andattracted attention. 

His companion, called Red, because his hair was of the hue of thecarrots, and because it was occasionally necessary to distinguish himfrom his friend, seemed of about the same age and degree of ordinariesas Black, but was rather stouter, more cheery, and, to use the favoriteroustabout simile, held his head closer to the current. 

He seemed, when Black was absent-minded (as he generally was while offduty), to be the leading spirit of the couple, and to be tenderly aliveto all of his partner's needs; but observing roustabouts noticed thatwhen freight was being moved, or wood taken on board, Black was alwayswhere he could keep an eye on his chum, and where he could demandinstant reparation from any wretch who trod upon Red's toes, or who, with a shoulder-load of wood, grazed Red's head, or touched Red with abox or barrel. 

Next to neighborly wonder as to the existence of the friendship betweenthe Chums, roustabouts with whom the couple sailed concerned themselvesmost with the cause of the bond between them. Their searches after firstcauses were no more successful, however, than those of the naturalistswho are endeavoring to ascertain who laid the cosmic egg. 

They gave out that they came from Carmi, so, once or twice, whencaptains with whom the Chums were engaged determined to seek a cargo upthe Wabash, upon which river Carmi was located, inquisitive roustaboutsbecame light-hearted. But, alas, for the vanity of human hopes! when theboat reached Carmi the Chums could not be found, nor could anyinhabitant of Carmi identify them by the descriptions which were givenby inquiring friends. 

At length they became known, in their collective capacity, as one ofthe institutions of the river. Captains knew them as well as they knewNatchez or Piankishaw Bend, and showed them to distinguished passengersas regularly as they showed General Zach. Taylor's plantation, or thescene of the Grand Gulf "cave, " where a square mile of Louisiana droppedinto the river one night. Captains rather cultivated them, in fact, although it was a difficult bit of business, for roustabouts whowouldn't say "thank you" for a glass of French brandy, or a genuine, old-fashioned "plantation cigar, " seemed destitute of ordinary handlesof which a steamboat captain, could take hold. 

Lady passengers took considerable notice of them, and were moresuccessful than any one else at drawing them into conversation. Thelinguistic accomplishments of the Chums were not numerous, but it didone good to see Black lose his scared, furtive look when a ladyaddressed him, and to see the affectionate deference with which heappealed to Red, until that worthy was drawn into the conversation. WhenBlack succeeded in this latter-named operation, he would, by insensiblestages, draw himself away, and give himself up to enthusiasticadmiration of his partner, or, apparently, of his conversationalability. 

The Spring of 1869 found the Chums in the crew of the _Bennett_, "thepeerless floating palace of the Mississippi, " as she was called by thosenewspapers whose reporters had the freedom of the _Bennett's_ bar; andthe same season saw the _Bennett_ staggering down the Mississippi withso heavy a load of sacked corn, that the gunwales amidships were fairlyunder water. 

The river was very low, so the _Bennett_ kept carefully in the channel;but the channel of the great muddy ditch which drains half the Union isas fickle as disappointed lovers declare women to be, and it has no morerespect for great steamer-loads of corn than Goliath had for David. 

A little Ohio river-boat, bound upward, had reported the suddendisappearance of a woodyard a little way above Milliken's Bend, wherethe channel hugged the shore, and with the woodyard there haddisappeared an enormous sycamore-tree, which had for years served as atying-post for steamers. 

As live sycamores are about as disinclined to float as bars of lead are, the captain and pilot of the _Bennett_ were somewhat concerned--for thesake of the corn--to know the exact location of the tree. 

Half a mile from the spot it became evident, even to the passengersclustered forward on the cabin-deck, that the sycamore had remainedquite near to its old home, for a long, rough ripple was seen directlyacross the line of the channel. 

Then arose the question as to how much water was on top of the tree, andwhether any bar had had time to accumulate. 

The steamer was stopped, the engines were reversed and worked by hand tokeep the _Bennett_ from drifting down-stream, a boat was lowered andmanned, the Chums forming part of her crew, and the second officer wentdown to take soundings; while the passengers, to whom even so small acause for excitement was a godsend, crowded the rail and stared. 

The boat shot rapidly down stream, headed for the shore-end of theripple. She seemed almost into the boiling mud in front of her when thepassengers on the steamer heard the mate in the boat shout: "Back all!"

The motion of the oars changed in an instant, but a little too late, for, a heavy root of the fallen giant, just covered by the water, caughtthe little craft, and caused it to careen so violently that one man wasthrown into the water. As she righted, another man went in. 

"Confound it!" growled the captain, who was leaning out of thepilot-house window. "I hope they can swim, still, 'tain't as bad as itwould be if we had any more cargo to take aboard. "

"It's the Chums, " remarked the pilot, who had brought a glass to bearupon the boat. 

"Thunder!" exclaimed the captain, striking a bell. "Below there! Loweraway another boat--lively!" Then, turning to the passengers, heexclaimed: "Nobody on the river'd forgive me if I lost the Chums. 'Twould be as bad as Barnum losing the giraffe. "

The occupants of the first boat were evidently of the captain's ownmind, for they were eagerly peering over her side, and into the water. 

Suddenly the pilot dropped his glass, extemporized a. Trumpet with bothhands, and shouted:

"Forrard--forrard! One of 'em's up!" Then he put, his mouth to thespeaking-tube, and screamed to the engineer: "Let her drop down alittle, Billy!"

The sounding party headed toward a black speck, apparently a hundredyards below them, and the great steamer slowly drifted down-stream. Thespeck moved toward shore, and the boat, rapidly shortening distance, seemed to scrape the bank with her port oars. 

"Safe enough now, I guess!" exclaimed Judge Turner, of one of theSouthern Illinois circuits. 

The Judge had been interrupted in telling a story when the accidentoccurred, and was in a hurry to resume. 

"As I was saying, " said he, "he hardly looked like a professionalhorse-thief. He was little and quiet, and had always worked awaysteadily at his trade. I believed him when he said 'twas his firstoffense, and that he did it to raise money to bury his child; and I wasgoing to give him an easy sentence, and ask the Governor to pardon him. The laws have to be executed, you know, but there's no law against mercybeing practiced afterward. Well, the sheriff was bringing him from jailto hear the verdict and the sentence, when the short man, with red hair, knocked the sheriff down, and off galloped that precious couple for theWabash. I saw the entire--"

"The deuce!" interrupted the pilot, again dropping his glass. 

The Judge glared angrily; the passengers saw, across the shorteneddistance, one of the Chums holding by a root to the bank, and trying tosupport the other, whose shirt hung in rags, and who seemed exhausted. 

"Which one's hurt?" asked the captain. "Give me the glass. "

But the pilot had left the house and taken the glass with him. 

The Judge continued:

"I saw the whole transaction through the window. I was so close that Isaw the sheriff's assailant's very eyes. I'd know that fellow's face ifI saw it in Africa. "

"Why, they're _both_ hurt!" exclaimed the captain. "They've thrown acoat over one, and they're crowdin' around the other. What the--They'recomin' back without 'em--need whisky to bring 'em to, I suppose. Whydidn't I send whisky down by the other boat? There's an awful amount oftime being wasted here. What's the matter, Mr. Bell?" shouted thecaptain, as the boat approached the steamer. 

"Both dead!" replied the officer. 

"Both? Now, ladies and gentlemen, " exclaimed the captain, turning towardthe passengers, who were crowded forward just below him, "I want to knowif that isn't a streak of the meanest kind of luck? Both the Chums gone!Why, I won't be able to hold up my head in New Orleans. How came it thatjust those two fellows were knocked out?"

"Red tumbled out, and Black jumped in after him, " replied the officer. "Red must have been caught in an eddy and tangled in the old tree'sroots--clothes torn almost off--head caved in. Black must have burst ablood-vessel--his face looked like a copper pan when he reached shore, and he just groaned and dropped. "

The captain was sorry, so sorry that he sent a waiter for brandy. Butthe captain was human--business was business--the rain was falling, anda big log was across the boat's bow; so he shouted:

"Hurry up and bury 'em, then. You ought to have let the second boat'screw gone on with that, and you have gone back to your soundings. They_was_ the Chums, to be sure, but now they're only dead roustabouts. Below there! Pass out a couple of shovels!"

"Perhaps some ladies would go down with the boat, captain--and apreacher, too, if there's one aboard, " remarked the mate, with anearnest but very mysterious expression. 

"Why, what in thunder does the fellow mean?" soliloquized the captain, audibly. "Women--and a preacher--for dead roustabouts? What do you mean, Mr. Bell?"

"Red's a woman, " briefly responded the mate. 

The passengers all started--the captain brought his hands together witha tremendous clap, and exclaimed:

"Murder will out! But who'd have thought _I_ was to be the man to findout the secret of the Carmi Chums? Guess I'll be the biggest man on theNew Orleans levee, after all. Yes, certainly--of course some ladies'llgo--and a preacher, too, if there's such a man aboard. Hold up, though--we'll _all_ go. Take your soundings, quick, and we'll drop thesteamer just below the point, and tie up. I wonder if there's a preacheraboard?"

No one responded for the moment; then the Judge spoke. 

"Before I went into the law I was the regularly settled pastor of aPresbyterian Church, " said he. "I'm decidedly rusty now, but a littletime will enable me to prepare myself properly. Excuse me, ladies andgentlemen. "

The sounding-boat pulled away, and the Judge retired to his stateroom. The ladies, with very pale faces, gathered in a group and whisperedearnestly with each other; then ensued visits to each other'sstaterooms, and the final regathering of the ladies with two or threebundles. The soundings were taken, and, as the steamer droppeddown-stream, men were seen cutting a path down the rather steep claybank. The captain put his hands to his mouth and shouted:

"Dig only _one_ grave--make it wide enough for two. "

And all the passengers nodded assent and satisfaction. 

Time had been short since the news reached the steamer, but the_Bennett's_ carpenter, who was himself a married man, had made a plaincoffin by the time the boat tied up, and another by the time the gravewas dug. The first one was put upon a long handbarrow, over which thecaptain had previously spread a tablecloth, and, followed by the ladies, was deposited by the side of the body of Red. Half an hour later, themen placed Black in the other coffin, removed both to the side of thegrave, and signalled the boat. 

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, " said the captain. 

The Judge appeared with a very solemn face, his coat buttoned tight tohis throat, and the party started. Colonel May, of Missouri, who readVoltaire and didn't believe in anything, maliciously took the Judge'sarm, and remarked:

"You didn't finish your story, Judge. "

The Judge frowned reprovingly. 

"But, really, " persisted the colonel, "I don't want curiosity to divertmy mind from the solemn services about to take place. Do tell me if theyever caught the rascals. "

"They never did, " replied the Judge. "The sheriff hunted and advertised, but he could never hear a word of either of them. But I'd know eitherone of them at sight. Sh--h--here we are at the grave. "

The passengers, officers, and crew gathered about the grave. The Judgeremoved his hat, and, as the captain uncovered the faces of the dead, commenced:

"'I am the resurrection and the life'--Why, there's the horse-thief now, colonel! I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen. 'He that believethin--'"

Just then the Judge's eye fell upon the dead woman's face, and hescreamed:

"And there's the sheriff's assailant!"

LITTLE GUZZY. 

Bowerton was a very quiet place. It had no factories, mills, or mines, or other special inducements to offer people looking for new localities;and as it was not on a railroad line, nor even on an importantpost-road, it gained but few new inhabitants. 

Even of travelers Bowerton saw very few. An occasional enterprisingpeddler or venturesome thief found his way to the town, and took awaysuch cash as came in their way while pursuing their respective callings;but peddlers were not considered exactly trustworthy as news-bearers, while house-breakers, when detained long enough to be questioned, werenot in that communicative frame of mind which is essential to one whowould interest the general public. 

When, therefore, the mail-coach one day brought to Bowerton an old ladyand a young one, who appeared to be mother and daughter, excitement ranhigh. 

The proprietor of the Bowerton House, who was his own clerk, hostler, and table-waiter, was for a day or two the most popular man in town;even the three pastors of the trio of churches of Bowerton did notconsider it beneath their dignity to join the little groups which werecontinually to be seen about the person of the landlord, and listeningto the meagre intelligence he was able to give. 

The old lady was quite feeble, he said, and the daughter was veryaffectionate and very handsome. He didn't know where they were going, but they registered themselves from Boston. Name was Wyett--young lady'sname was Helen. He hoped they wouldn't leave for a long time--travelersweren't any too plenty at Bowerton, and landlords found it hard work toscratch along. Talked about locating at Bowerton if they could find asuitable cottage. Wished 'em well, but hoped they'd take their time, andnot be in a hurry to leave the Bowerton House, where--if _he_ did say itas shouldn't--they found good rooms and good board at the lowest livingprice. 

The Wyetts finally found a suitable cottage, and soon afterward theybegan to receive heavy packages and boxes from the nearest railwaystation. 

Then it was that the responsible gossips of Bowerton were worked nearlyto death, but each one was sustained by a fine professional pride whichenabled them to pass creditably through the most exciting period. 

For years they had skillfully pried into each other's private affairs, but then they had some starting-place, some clue; now, alas! there wasnot in all Bowerton a single person who had emigrated from Boston, wherethe Wyetts had lived. Worse still, there was not a single Bowertonianwho had a Boston correspondent. 

To be sure, one of the Bowerton pastors had occasional letters from amissionary board, whose headquarters were at the Hub, but not even themost touching appeals from members of his flock could induce him towrite the board concerning the newcomers. 

But Bowerton was not to be balked in its striving after accurateintelligence. 

From Squire Brown, who leased Mrs. Wyett a cottage, it learned that Mrs. Wyett had made payment by check on an excellent Boston bank. The poorbut respectable female who washed the floors of the cottage informed thepublic that the whole first floor was to be carpeted with Brussels. 

The postmaster's clerk ascertained and stated that Mrs. Wyett received_two_ religious papers per week, whereas no else in Bowerton took morethan one. 

The grocer said that Mrs. Wyett was, by jingo, the sort of person _he_liked to trade with--wouldn't have anything that wasn't the very best. 

The man who helped to do the unpacking was willing to take oath thatamong the books were a full set of Barnes, Notes, and two sets ofcommentaries, while Mrs. Battle, who lived in the house next to thecottage, and who was suddenly, on hearing the crashing of crockery nextdoor, moved to neighborly kindness to the extent of carrying in a nicehot pie to the newcomers, declared that, as she hoped to be saved, therewasn't a bit of crockery in that house which wasn't pure china. 

Bowerton asked no more. Brussels carpets, religious tendencies, a bankaccount, the ability to live on the best that the market afforded, andto eat it from china, and china only--why, either one of thesequalifications was a voucher of respectability, and any two of themconstituted a patent of aristocracy of the Bowerton standard. 

Bowerton opened its doors, and heartily welcomed Mrs. And Miss Wyett. 

It is grievous to relate, but the coming of the estimable people was thecause of considerable trouble in Bowerton. 

Bowerton, like all other places, contained lovers, and some of the youngmen were not so blinded by the charms of their own particular ladyfriends as to be oblivious to the beauty of Miss Wyett. 

She was extremely modest and retiring, but she was also unusuallyhandsome and graceful, and she had an expression which the young men ofBowerton could not understand, but which they greatly admired. 

It was useless for plain girls to say that they couldn't see anythingremarkable about Miss Wyett; it was equally unavailing for good-lookinggirls to caution their gallants against too much of friendly regard evenfor a person of whose antecedents they really knew scarcely anything. 

Even casting chilling looks at Miss Wyett when they met her failed tomake that unoffending young lady any less attractive to the young menof Bowerton, and critical analysis of Miss Wyett's style of dressingonly provoked manly comparisons, which were as exasperating as they wereunartistic. 

Finally Jack Whiffer, who was of a first family, and was a store-clerkbesides, proposed to Miss Wyett and was declined; then the young ladiesof Bowerton thought that perhaps Helen Wyett had some sense after all. 

Then young Baggs, son of a deceased Congressman, wished to make MissWyett mistress of the Baggs mansion and sharer of the Baggs money, buthis offer was rejected. 

Upon learning this fact, the maidens of Bowerton pronounced Helen anoble-spirited girl to refuse to take Baggs away from the dear, abusedwoman who had been engaged to him for a long time. 

Several other young men had been seen approaching the Wyett cottage inthe full glory of broadcloth and hair-oil, and were noticeably depressedin spirits for days afterward, and the native ladies of marriageable agewere correspondingly elated when they heard of it. 

When at last the one unmarried minister of Bowerton, who had been thedesire of many hearts, manfully admitted that he had proposed and beenrejected, and that Miss Wyett had informed him that she was alreadyengaged, all the Bowerton girls declared that Helen Wyett was a darlingold thing, and that it was perfectly shameful that she couldn't be letalone. 

After thus proving that their own hearts were in the right place, allthe Bowerton girls asked each other who the lucky man could be. 

Of course he couldn't be a Bowerton man, for Miss Wyett was seldom seenin company with _any_ gentleman. He must he a Boston man--he wasprobably very literary--Boston men always were. 

Besides, if he was at all fit for her, he must certainly be veryhandsome. 

Suddenly Miss Wyett became the rage among the Bowerton girls. Blushingly and gushingly they told her of their own loves, and theyshowed her their lovers, or pictures of those gentlemen. 

Miss Wyett listened, smiled and sympathized, but when they sat silentlyexpectant of similar confidences, they were disappointed, and when theyendeavored to learn even the slightest particular of Helen Wyett's love, she changed the subject of conversation so quickly and decidedly thatthey had not the courage to renew the attempt. 

But while most Bowertonians despaired of learning much more about theWyetts, and especially about Helen's lover, there was one who hadresolved not only to know the favored man, but to do him some frightfulinjury, and that was little Guzzy. 

Though Guzzy's frame was small, his soul was immense, and Helen'sfailure to comprehend Guzzy's greatness when he laid it all at her feethad made Guzzy extremely bilious and gloomy. 

Many a night, when Guzzy's soul and body should have been taking theirrest, they roamed in company up and down the quiet street on which theWyetts' cottage was located, and Guzzy's eyes, instead of being fixed onsweet pictures in dreamland, gazed vigilantly in the direction of Mrs. Wyett's gate. 

He did not meditate inflicting personal violence on the hated wretch whohad snatched away Helen from his hopes--no, personal violence couldproduce suffering but feeble compared with that under which the victimwould writhe as Guzzy poured forth the torrent of scornful invectivewhich he had compiled from the memories of his bilious brain and thepages of his "Webster Unabridged. "

At length there came a time when most men would have despaired. 

Love is warm, but what warmth is proof against the chilling blasts andpelting rains of the equinoctial storm?

But then it was that the fervor of little Guzzy's soul showed itself;for, wrapped in the folds of a waterproof overcoat, he paced hisaccustomed beat with the calmness of a faithful policeman. 

And he had his reward. 

As one night he stood unseen against the black background of a highwall, opposite the residence of Mrs. Wyett, he heard the gate--_her_gate--creak on its hinges. 

It could be no ordinary visitor, for it was after nine o'clock--it mustbe _he_. 

Ha! the lights were out! He would be disappointed, the villain! Now wasthe time, while his heart would be bleeding with sorrow, to wither himwith reproaches. To be sure, he seemed a large man, while Guzzy was verysmall, but Guzzy believed his own thin legs to be faithful in anemergency. 

The unknown man knocked softly at the front-door, then he seemed to tapat several of the windows. 

Suddenly he raised one of the windows, and Guzzy, who had not until thensuspected that he had been watching a house-breaker, sped away like thewind and alarmed the solitary constable of Bowerton. 

That functionary requested Guzzy to notify Squire Jones, justice of thepeace, that there was business ahead, and then hastened away himself. 

Guzzy labored industriously for some moments, for Squire Jones was veryold, and very cautious, and very stupid; but he was at last fullyaroused, and then Guzzy had an opportunity to reflect on the greatnesswhich would be his when Bowerton knew of his meritorious action. 

And Helen Wyett--what would be her shame and contrition when she learnedthat the man whose love she had rejected had become the preserver of herpeace of mind and her portable personal property?

He could not exult over _her_, for that would be unchivalrous; but wouldnot her own conscience reproach her bitterly?

Perhaps she would burst into tears in the court-room, and thank himeffusively and publicly! Guzzy's soul swelled at the thought, and herapidly composed a reply appropriate to such an occasion. Suddenly Guzzyheard footsteps approaching, and voices in earnest altercation. 

Guzzy hastened into the squire's office, and struck an attitudebefitting the importance of a principal witness. 

An instant later the constable entered, followed by two smart-lookingmen, who had between them a third man, securely handcuffed. 

The prisoner was a very handsome, intelligent-looking young man, exceptfor a pair of restless, over-bright eyes. 

"There's a difference of opinion 'bout who the prisoner belongs to, "said the constable, addressing the squire; "and we agreed to leave thematter to you. When I reached the house, these gentlemen already had himin hand, and they claim he's an escaped convict, and that they'vetracked him from the prison right straight to Bowerton. "

The prisoner gave the officers a very wicked look, while these officialsproduced their warrants and handed them to the justice for inspection. 

Guzzy seemed to himself to grow big with accumulating importance. 

"The officers seem to be duly authorized, " said the squire, after a longand minute examination of their papers; "but they should identify theprisoner as the escaped convict for whom they are searching. "

"Here's a description, " said one of the officers, "in an advertisement:'Escaped from the Penitentiary, on the ----th instant, William Beigh, _alias_ Bay Billy, _alias_ Handsome; age, twenty-eight; height, fivefeet ten; complexion dark, hair black, eyes dark brown, mole on leftcheek; general appearance handsome, manly, and intelligent. A skillfuland dangerous burglar. Sentenced in 1866 to five years'imprisonment--two years yet to serve. ' That, " continued the officer, "describes him to a dot; and, if there's any further doubt, look here!"

As he spoke, he unclasped a cloak which the prisoner wore, and disclosedthe striped uniform of the prison. 

"There seems no reasonable doubt in this case, and the prisoner willhave to go back to prison, " said the justice. "But I must detain himuntil I ascertain whether he has stolen anything from Mrs. Wyett'sresidence. In case he has done so, we can prosecute at the expiration ofhis term. "

The prisoner seemed almost convulsed with rage, though of a sort whichone of the officers whispered to the other, he did not exactlyunderstand. 

Guzzy eyed him resentfully, and glared at the officers with considerabledisfavor. 

Guzzy was a law-abiding man, but to have an expected triumph belittledand postponed because of foreign interference was enough to blind almost_any_ man's judicial eyesight. 

"Well, " said one of the officers, "put him in the lock-up' andinvestigate in the morning; we won't want to start until then, after thetramp he's given us. Oh, Bay Billy, you're a smart one--no mistake aboutthat. Why in thunder don't you use your smartness in the rightway?--there's more money in business than in cracking cribs. "

"Besides the moral advantage, " added the squire, who was deacon as well, and who, now that he had concluded his official duties, was not adverseto laying down the higher law. 

"Just so, " exclaimed the officer; "and for his family's sake, too. Why, would you believe it, judge? They say Billy has one of the finest wivesin the commonwealth--handsome, well-educated, religious, rich, and ofgood family. Of course she didn't know what his profession was when shemarried him. "

Again the prisoner seemed convulsed with that strange rage which theofficer did not understand. But the officers were tired, and they weretoo familiar with the disapprobation of prisoners to be seriouslyaffected by it; so, after an appointment by the squire, and a finalglare of indignation from little Guzzy, they started, under theconstable's guidance, to the lock-up. 

Suddenly the door was thrown open, and there appeared, with uncoveredhead, streaming hair, weeping yet eager eyes, and mud-splashed garments, Helen Wyett. 

[Illustration: "WE MAY AS WELL FINISH THIS CASE TO-NIGHT, IF MISS WYETTIS PREPARED TO TESTIFY, " SAID THE JUDGE. ]

Every one started, the officers stared, the squire looked a degree ortwo less stupid, and hastened to button his dressing-gown; the restlesseyes of the convict fell on Helen's beautiful face, and were restlessno longer; while little Guzzy assumed a dignified pose, which did notseem at all consistent with his confused and shamefaced countenance. 

"We may as well finish this case to-night, if Miss Wyett is prepared totestify, " said the squire, at length. "Have you lost anything, MissWyett?"

"No, " said Helen; "but I have found my dearest treasure--my ownhusband!"

And putting her arms around the convict's neck, she kissed him, andthen, dropping her head upon his shoulder, she sobbed violently. 

The squire was startled into complete wakefulness, and as the moralaspect of the scene presented itself to him, he groaned:

"Onequally yoked with an onbeliever. "

The officers looked as if they were depraved yet remorseful convictsthemselves, while little Guzzy's diminutive dimensions seemed tocontract perceptibly. 

At length the convict quieted his wife, and persuaded her to return toher home, with a promise from the officers that she should see him inthe morning. 

Then the officers escorted the prisoner to the jail, and Guzzy sneakedquietly out, while the squire retired to his slumbers, with the firmconviction that if Solomon had been a justice of the peace at Bowerton, his denial of the newness of anything under the sun would never havebeen made. 

Now, the jail at Bowerton, like everything else in the town, wasdecidedly antiquated, and consisted simply of a thickly-walled room in abuilding which contained several offices and living apartments. 

It was as extensive a jail as Bowerton needed, and was fully strongenough to hold the few drunken and quarrelsome people who wereoccasionally lodged in it. 

But Beigh, _alias_ Bay Billy, _alias_ Handsome, was no ordinary andvulgar jail-bird, the officers told him, and, that he and they mightsleep securely, they considered it advisable to carefully iron hishands. 

A couple of hours rolled away, and left Beigh still sitting moody andsilent on the single bedstead in the Bowerton jail. 

Suddenly the train of his thoughts was interrupted by a low "stt--stt"from the one little, high, grated window of the jail. 

The prisoner looked up quickly, and saw the shadow of a man's headoutside the grating. 

"Hello!" whispered Beigh, hurrying under the window. 

"Are you alone?" inquired the shadow. 

"Yes, " replied the prisoner. 

"All right, then, " whispered the voice. "There _are_ secrets which novulgar ears should hear. My name is Guzzy. I have been in love with yourwife. I hadn't any idea she was married; but I've brought you myapology. "

"I'll forgive you, " whispered the criminal; "but--"

"'Tain't that kind of apology, " whispered Guzzy. "It's a steel one--atool--one of those things that gunsmiths shorten gun-barrels with. Ifthey can saw a rifle-barrel in two in five minutes, you ought to get outof here inside of an hour. "

"Not quite, " whispered Beigh. "My hands and feet are ironed. "

"Then I'll do the job myself, " whispered Guzzy, as he applied the toolto one of the bars; "for it will be daylight within two hours. "

The unaccustomed labor--for Guzzy was a bookkeeper--made his arms acheseverely, but still he sawed away. 

He wondered what his employer would say should he be found out, butstill he sawed. 

Visions of the uplifted hands and horror-struck countenances of hisbrother Church-members came before his eyes, and the effect of hisexample upon his Sunday-school class, should he be discovered, tormentedhis soul; but neither of these influences affected his saw. 

Bar after bar disappeared, and when Guzzy finally stopped to rest, Beighsaw a small square of black sky, unobstructed by any bars whatever. 

"Now, " whispered Guzzy, "I'll drop in a small box you can stand on, soyou can put your hands out and let me file off your irons. I brought afile or two, thinking they might come handy. "

Five minutes later the convict, his hands unbound, crawled through thewindow, and was helped to the ground by Guzzy. 

[Illustration]

Seizing the file from the little bookkeeper, Beigh commenced freeing hisfeet. Suddenly he stopped and whispered:

"You'd better go now. I can take care of myself, but if those cursedofficers should take a notion to look around, it would go hard with_you_. Run, God bless you, run!"

But little Guzzy straightened himself and folded his arms. 

The convict rasped away rapidly, and finally dropped the file and thefragments of the last fetter. Then he seized little Guzzy's hand. 

"My friend, " said he, "criminal though I am, I am man enough toappreciate your manliness and honor. I think I am smart enough to keepmyself free, now I am out of jail. But, if ever you want a friend, tellHelen, _she_ will know where I am, and I will serve you, no matter whatthe risk and pain. "

"Thank you, " said Guzzy; "but the only favor I'll ever ask of you mightas well be named now, and you ought to be able to do it without risk orpain either. It's only this; be an honest man, for Helen's sake. "

Beigh dropped his head. 

"There _are_ men who would die daily for the sake of making her happy, but you've put it out of their power, seeing you've married her, "continued Guzzy. "_I'm_ nothing to her, and can't be, but for her saketo-night I've broken open the gunsmith's shop, broken a jail, and"--herehe stooped, and picked up a bundle--"robbed my own employer's store of asuit of clothes for you, so you mayn't be caught again in those prisonstripes. If I've made myself a criminal for her sake: can't her husbandbe an honest man for the same reason?"

The convict wrung the hand of his preserver. He seemed to be trying tospeak, but to have some great obstruction in his throat. 

Suddenly a bright light shone on the two men, and a voice was heardexclaiming, in low but very ferocious tones:

"Do it, you scoundrel, or I'll put a bullet through your head!"

Both men looked up to the window of the cell, and saw a bull's-eyelantern, the muzzle of a pistol, and the face of the Bowerton constable. 

The constable's right eye, the sights of his pistol and the breast ofthe convict were on the same visual line. 

Without altering his position or that of his weapon, the constablewhispered:

"I've had you covered for the last ten minutes. I only held in to findout who was helping you; but I heard too much for _my_ credit as afaithful officer. Now, what are you going to do?"

"Turn over a new leaf, " said the convict, bursting into tears. 

"Then get out, " whispered the officer, "and be lively, too--it's almostdaybreak. "

"I'll tell you what to do, " said little Guzzy, when the constablehurriedly whispered:

"Wait until _I_ get out of hearing. "

 * * * * *

The excitement which possessed Bowerton the next morning, when theevents of the previous night were made public, was beyond thedescriptive powers of the best linguists in the village. 

Helen Wyett a burglar's wife!

At first the Bowertonians scarcely knew whether it would be proper torecognize her at all, and before they were able to arrive at aconclusion the intelligence of the convict's escape, the breaking openof the gunsmith's shop, the finding of the front door of Cashing's storeajar, and the discovery by Cashing that at least one suit of valuableclothing had been taken, came upon the astonished villagers and renderedthem incapable of reason, and of every other mental attribute exceptwonder. 

That the prisoner had an accomplice seemed certain, and some suspicioussouls suggested that the prisoner's wife _might_ have been the person;but as one of the officers declared he had watched her house all nightfor fear of some such attempt, that theory was abandoned. 

Under the guidance of the constable, who zealously assisted them inevery possible manner, the officers searched every house in Bowertonthat might seem likely to afford a hiding-place, and then departed onwhat they considered the prisoner's most likely route. 

For some days Helen Wyett gave the Bowertonians no occasion to modifytheir conduct toward her, for she kept herself constantly out of sight. 

When, however, she did appear in the street again, she met only thekindest looks and salutations, for the venerable Squire Jones had talkedincessantly in praise of her courage and affection, and the Squire'sfellow-townsmen knew that when their principal magistrate was affectedto tenderness and mercy, it was from causes which would have simplyoverwhelmed any ordinary mortal. 

It was months before Bowerton gossip descended again to its normallevel; for a few weeks after the escape of Beigh, little Guzzy, who hadnever been supposed to have unusual credit, and whose family certainlyhadn't any money, left his employer and started an opposition store. 

Next to small scandal, finance was the favorite burden of conversationat Bowerton, so the source of Guzzy's sudden prosperity was soindustriously sought and surmised that the gossips were soon at needles'points about it. 

Then it was suddenly noised abroad that Mrs. Baggs, Sr. , who kneweverybody, had given Guzzy a letter of introduction to the Governor ofthe State. 

Bowerton was simply confounded. What _could_ he want? The Governor hadvery few appointments at his disposal, and none of them were fit forGuzzy, except those for which Guzzy was not fit. 

Even the local politicians became excited, and both sides consultedGuzzy. 

Finally, when Guzzy started for the State capital, and Helen Wyett, aspeople still called her, accompanied him, the people of Bowerton put oncountenances of hopeless resignation, and of a mute expectation whichnothing could astonish. 

It might be an elopement--it might be that they were going asmissionaries; but no one expressed a positive opinion, and every oneexpressed a perfect willingness to believe anything that was supportedby even a shadow of proof. 

Their mute agony was suddenly ended, for within forty-eight hours Guzzyand his traveling companion returned. 

The latter seemed unusually happy for the wife of a convict, while theformer went straight to Squire Jones and the constable's. 

Half an hour later all Bowerton knew that William Beigh, _alias_ BayBilly, _alias_ Handsome, had received a full and free pardon from theGovernor. 

The next day Bowerton saw a tall, handsome stranger, with downcast eyes, walk rapidly through the principal street and disappear behind Mrs. Wyett's gate. 

A day later, and Bowerton was electrified by the intelligence that theex-burglar had been installed as a clerk in Guzzy's store. 

People said that it was a shame--that nobody knew how soon Beigh mighttake to his old tricks again. Nevertheless, they crowded to Guzzy'sstore, to look at him, until shrewd people began to wonder whether Guzzyhadn't really taken Beigh as a sort of advertisement to draw trade. 

A few months later, however, they changed their opinions, for theconstable, after the expiration of his term of office, and while underthe influence of a glass too much, related the whole history of thenight of Beigh's first arrival at Bowerton. 

The Bowertonians were law-abiding people; but, somehow, Guzzy'scustomers increased from that very day, and his prosperity did notdecline even after "Guzzy & Beigh" was the sign over the door of thestore which had been built and stocked with Mrs. Wyett's money. 

A ROMANCE OF HAPPY REST. 

Happy Rest is a village whose name has never appeared in gazetteer orcensus report. This remark should not cause any depreciation of thefaithfulness of public and private statisticians, for Happy Restbelonged to a class of settlements which sprang up about as suddenly asdid Jonah's Gourd, and, after a short existence, disappeared so quicklythat the last inhabitant generally found himself alone before he knewthat anything unusual was going on. 

When the soil of Happy Rest supported nothing more artificial than abroken wagon wheel, left behind by some emigrants going overland toCalifornia, a deserter from a fort near by discovered that the soil wasauriferous. 

His statement to that effect, made in a bar-room in the first town hereached thereafter, led to his being invited to drink, which operationresulted in certain supplementary statements and drinks. 

Within three hours every man within five miles of that barroom knew thatthe most paying dirt on the continent had been discovered not far away, and three hours later a large body of gold-hunters, guided by thedeserter, were _en route_ for the auriferous locality; while astorekeeper and a liquor-dealer, with their respective stocks-in-trade, followed closely after. 

The ground was found; it proved to be tolerably rich; tents went up, underground residences were burrowed, and the grateful miners orderedthe barkeeper to give unlimited credit to the locality's discoverer. Thebarkeeper obeyed the order, and the ex-warrior speedily met his deathin a short but glorious contest with John Barleycorn. 

There was no available lumber from which to construct a coffin, and thestorekeeper had no large boxes; but as the liquor-seller had alreadyemptied two barrels, these were taken, neatly joined in the centre, andmade to contain the remains of the founder of the hamlet. The method ofhis death and origin of his coffin led a spirituous miner to suggestthat he rested happily, and from this remark the name of the town waselaborated. 

Of course, no ladies accompanied the expedition. Men who went West forgold did not take their families with them, as a rule, and the settlersof new mining towns were all of the masculine gender. 

When a town had attained to the dignity of a hotel, members of thegentler sex occasionally appeared, but--with the exception of anoccasional washerwoman--their influence was decidedly the reverse ofthat usually attributed to woman's society. 

For the privileges of their society, men fought with pistols and knives, and bought of them disgrace and sorrow for gold. But at first Happy Restwas unblessed and uncursed by the presence of any one who did not wearpantaloons. 

On the fifth day of its existence, however, when the arrival of anexpress agent indicated that Capital had formally acknowledged theexistence of Happy Rest, there was an unusual commotion in thenever-quiet village. 

An important rumor had spread among the tents and gopher-holes, and, oneafter another, the citizens visited the saloon, took the barkeepermysteriously aside, and, with faces denoting the greatest concern, whispered earnestly to him. The barkeeper felt his importance as thesole custodian of all the village news, but he replied with affabilityto all questions:

"Well, yes; there _had_ a lady come; come by the same stage as theexpress agent. What kind?--Well, he really couldn't say--some mightthink one way, an' some another. _He_ thought she was a real lady, though she wouldn't 'low anything to be sent her from the bar, and shehedn't brought no baggage. Thought so--_knowed_ she was a lady--in fact, would bet drinks for the crowd on it. 'Cos why?--'Cos nobody heerd hercuss or seed her laugh. H'd bet three to two she was a lady--_might_ bettwo to one, ef he got his dander up on the subject. Then, on t'otherhand, she'd axed for Major Axel, and the major, ez everybody know'd, was--well, he wasn't 'xactly a saint. Besides, as the major hedn't cometo Happy Rest, nohow, it looked ez if he was dodgin' her for somethin'. Where was she stopping?--up to Old Psalmsinger's. Old Psalm bed turnedhimself out of house an' home, and bought her a new tea-kettle to boot. If anybody know'd anybody that wanted to take three to two, send himalong. "

A few men called to bet, and bets were exchanged all over the camp, butmost of the excitement centred about the storekeeper's. 

Argonauts, pioneers, heroes, or whatever else the early gold-seekerswere, they were likewise mortal men, so they competed vigorously for thefew blacking-brushes, boxes of blacking, looking-glasses, pocket-combsand neckties which the store contained. They bought toilet-soap, andborrowed razors; and when they had improved their personal appearance tothe fullest possible extent, they stood aimlessly about, like unemployedworkmen in the market-place. Each one, however, took up a position whichshould rake the only entrance to old Psalmsinger's tent. 

Suddenly, two or three scores of men struck various attitudes, as if tobe photographed, and exclaimed in unison:

"There she is!"

From the tent of old Psalmsinger there had emerged the only member ofthe gentler sex who had reached Happy Rest. 

For only a moment she stood still and looked about her, as if uncertainwhich way to go; but before she had taken a step, old Psalmsinger raisedhis voice, and said:

"I thort it last night, when I only seed her in the moonlight, but I_know_ it now--she's a lady, an' no mistake. Ef I was a bettin' man, I'dbet all my dust on it, an' my farm to hum besides!"

A number of men immediately announced that they would bet, in thespeaker's place, to any amount, and in almost any odds. For, though oldPsalm, by reason of non-participation in any of the drinks, fights, orgames with which the camp refreshed itself, was considered a merenonentity, it was generally admitted that men of his style could tell alady or a preacher at sight. 

The gentle unknown finally started toward the largest group of men, seeing which, several smaller groups massed themselves on the largerwith alacrity. 

As she neared them, the men could see that she was plainly dressed, butthat every article of attire was not only neat but tasteful, and thatshe had enough grace of form and carriage to display everything toadvantage. A few steps nearer, and she displayed a set of sad butrefined features, marred only by an irresolute, purposeless mouth. 

Then an ex-reporter from New York turned suddenly to a graceless youngscamp who had once been a regular ornament to Broadway, and exclaimed:

"Louise Mattray, isn't it?"

"'Tis, by thunder!" replied the young man. "I knew I'd seen hersomewhere. Wonder what she's doing here?"

The reporter shrugged his shoulders. 

"Some wild-goose speculation, I suppose. Smart and gritty--if _I_ hadher stick I shouldn't be here--but she always slips up--can't keep allher wires well in hand. Was an advertising agent when I left theEast--picked up a good many ads, too, and made folks treat herrespectfully, when they'd have kicked a man out of doors if he'd come onthe same errand. "

"Say she's been asking for Axel, " remarked the young man. 

"That so!" queried the reporter, wrinkling his brow, and hurryingthrough his mental notebook. "Oh, yes--there was some talk about them atone time. Some said they were married--_she_ said so, but she never tookhis name. She had a handsome son, that looked like her and the major, but she didn't know how to manage him--went to the dogs, or worse, before he was eighteen. "

"Axell here?" asked the young man. 

"No, " replied the reporter; "and 'twouldn't do her any good if he was. The major's stylish and good-looking, and plays a brilliant game, but hehasn't any more heart than is absolutely necessary to his circulation. Besides, his--"

The reporter was interrupted by a heavy hand falling on his shoulder, and found, on turning, that the hand belonged to "The General. "

The general was not a military man, but his title had been conferred inrecognition of the fact that he was a born leader. Wherever he went thegeneral assumed the reins of government, and his administration hadalways been popular as well as judicious. 

But at this particular moment the general seemed to feel unequal to whatwas evidently his duty, and he, like a skillful general, sought aproperly qualified assistant, and the reporter seemed to him to be justthe man he wanted. 

"Spidertracks, " said the general, with an air in which authority andsupplication were equally prominent, "you've told an awful sight of liesin your time. Don't deny it, now--nobody that ever reads the papers willb'leeve you. Now's yer chance to put yer gift of gab to a respectableuse. The lady's bothered, and wants to say somethin' or ask somethin', and she'll understand your lingo better'n mine. Fire away now, lively!"

The ex-shorthand-writer seemed complimented by the general's address, and stepping forward and raising the remains of what had once been ahat, said:

"Can I serve you in any way, madame?"

The lady glanced at him quickly and searchingly, and then, seemingassured of the reporter's honesty, replied:

"I am looking for an old acquaintance of mine--one Major Axell. "

"He is not in camp, ma'am, " said Spidertracks. "He was at Rum Valley afew days ago, when our party was organized to come here. "

"I was there yesterday, " said the lady, looking greatly disappointed, "and was told he started for here a day or two before. "

"Some mistake, ma'am, I assure you, " replied Spidertracks. "I shouldhave known of his arrival if he had come. I'm an old newspaper man, ma'am, and can't get out of the habit of getting the news. "

The lady turned away, but seemed irresolute. The reporter followed her. 

"If you will return to Rum Yalley, ma'am, I'll find the major for you, if he is hereabouts, " said he. "You will be more comfortable there, andI will be more likely than you to find him. "

The lady hesitated for a moment longer; then she drew from her pocket adiary, wrote a line or two on one of its leaves, tore it out and handedit to the reporter. 

"I will accept your offer, and be very grateful for it, for I do notbear this mountain traveling very well. If you find him, give him thisscrawl and tell him where I am--that will be sufficient. "

"Trust me to find him, ma'am, " replied Spidertracks. "And as the stageis just starting, and there won't be another for a week, allow me to seeyou into it. Any baggage?"

"Only a small hand-bag in the tent, " said she. 

They hurried off together, Spidertracks found the bag, and five minuteslater was bowing and waving his old hat to the cloud of dust which thedeparting stage left behind it. But when even the dust itself haddisappeared, he drew from his pocket the paper the fair passenger hadgiven him. 

"'Tain't sealed, " said he, reasoning with himself, "so there can't beany secrets in it. Let's see--hello! 'Ernest is somewhere in thiscountry; I wish to see you about _him_--and about nothing else. 'Whew-w-w! What splendid material for a column, if there was only a livepaper in this infernal country! Looking for that young scamp, eh? There_is_ something to her, and I'll help her if I can. Wonder if I'drecognize him if I saw him again? I _ought_ to, if he looks as much likehis parents as he used to do. 'Twould do my soul good to make the poorwoman smile once; but it's an outrageous shame there's no good dailypaper here to work the whole thing up in. With the chase, and fighting, and murder that _may_ come of it, 'twould make the leading sensation fora week!"

The agonized reporter clasped his hands behind him and walked slowlyback to where he had left the crowd. Most of the citizens had, on seeingthe lady depart, taken a drink as a partial antidote to dejection, andstrolled away to their respective claims, regardless of the occasionalmud which threatened the polish on their boots; but two or threegentlemen of irascible tempers and judicial minds lingered, to decidewhether Spidertracks had not, by the act of seeing the lady to thestage, made himself an accessory to her departure, and consequently afit subject for challenge by every disappointed man in camp. 

The reporter was in the midst of a very able and voluble defense, whenthe attention of his hearers seemed distracted by something on the trailby which the original settlers had entered the village. 

Spidertracks himself looked, shaded his eyes, indulged in certaindisconnected fragments of profanity, and finally exclaimed:

"Axell himself, by the white coat of Horace Greeley! Wonder who he's gotwith him! They seem to be having a difficulty about something!"

The gentlemen who had arraigned Spidertracks allowed him to be acquittedby default. Far better to them was a fight near by than the mostinteresting lady afar off. 

They stuck their hands into their pockets, and stared intently. Finallyone of them, in a tone of disgusted resignation, remarked:

"Axell ought to be ashamed of hisself; he's draggin' along a littlefeller not half the size _he_ is. Blamed if he ain't got his match, though; the little feller's jest doin' some gellorious chawin' an'diggin'. "

The excitement finally overcame the inertia of the party, and each manstarted deliberately to meet the major and his captive. Spidertracks, faithful to his profession, kept well in advance of the others. Suddenlyhe exclaimed to himself:

"Good Lord! don't they know each other? The major didn't wear that beardwhen in New York; but the boy--he's just the same scamp, in spite of hisdirt and rags. If _she_ were to see them now--but, pshaw! 'twould allfall flat--no live paper to take hold of the matter and work it up. "

"There, curse your treacherous heart!" roared the major, as he gave hisprisoner a push which threw him into the reporter's arms. "Now we're ina civilized community, and you'll have a chance of learning the opinionsof gentlemen on such irregularities. Tried to kill me, gentlemen, uponmy honor!--did it after I had shared my eatables and pocket-pistol withhim, too. Did it to get my dust. Got me at a disadvantage for a moment, and made a formal demand for the dust, and backed his request with apistol--my own pistol, gentlemen! I've only just reached here; I don'tyet know who's here, but I imagine there's public spirit enough todiscourage treachery. Will some one see to him while I take something?"

Spidertracks drew his revolver, mildly touched the young man on theshoulder, and remarked:

"Come on. "

The ex-knight of the pencil bowed his prisoner into an abandonedgopher-hole (_i. E. _, an artificial cave, ) cocked his revolver, and thenstretched himself on the ground and devoted himself to staring at theunfortunate youth. To a student of human nature Ernest Mattray wascurious, fascinating, and repulsive. Short, slight, handsome, delicate, nervous, unscrupulous, selfish, effeminate, dishonest, and cruel, he wasan excellent specimen of what city life could make of a boy with nofather and an irresolute mother. 

The reporter, who had many a time studied faces in the Tombs, feltalmost as if at his old vocation again as he gazed into the restlesseyes and sullen features of the prisoner. 

Meanwhile Happy Rest was becoming excited. There had been some littlefighting done since the settlement of the place, but as there had beenno previous attempt at highway robbery and murder made in the vicinity, the prisoner was an object of considerable interest. 

In fact, the major told so spirited a story, that most of theinhabitants strolled up, one after another, to look at the innovator, while that individual himself, with the modesty which seems inseparablefrom true greatness, retired to the most secluded of the threeapartments into which the cave was divided, and declined all theattentions which were thrust upon him. 

The afternoon had faded almost into evening, when a decrepit figure, ina black dress and bonnet, approached the cave, and gave Spidertracks anew element for the thrilling report he had composed and mentallyrearranged during his few hours of duty as jailer. 

"Beats the dickens, " muttered the reporter to himself, "how theseSisters of Charity always know when a tough case has been caught. Natural enough in New York. But where did _she_ come from? Who told her?Cross, beads, and all. Hello! Oh, Louise Mattray, you're a deep one; butit's a pity your black robe isn't quite long enough to hide the verytasty dress you wore this morning? Queer dodge, too--wonder what itmeans? Wonder if she's caught sight of the major, and don't want to berecognized?"

The figure approached. 

"May I see the prisoner?" she asked. 

"No one has a better right, Mrs. Mattray, " said the guardian of thecave, with a triumphant smile, while the poor woman started andtrembled. "Don't be frightened--no one is going to hurt you. Heard allabout it, I suppose?--know who just missed being the victim?"

"Yes, " said the unhappy woman, entering the cave. 

When she emerged it was growing quite dark. She passed the reporter withhead and vail down, and whispered:

"Thank you. "

"Don't mention it, " said the reporter, quickly. "Going to stay until yousee how things go with him?"

She shook her head and passed on. 

The sky grew darker. The reporter almost wished it might grow so darkthat the prisoner could escape unperceived, or so quickly that a randomshot could not find him. There were strange noises in camp. 

The storekeeper, who never traveled except by daylight, was apparentlyharnessing his mules to the wagon--he was moving the wagon itself to theextreme left of the camp, where there was nothing to haul but wood, andeven that was still standing in the shape of fine old trees. 

There seemed to be an unusual clearness in the air, for Spidertracksdistinctly heard the buzz of some earnest conversation. There seemedstrange shadows floating in the air--a strange sense of something movingtoward him--something almost shapeless, yet tangible--something thatapproached him--that gave him a sense of insecurity and then of alarm. Suddenly the indefinable something uttered a yell, and resolved itselfinto a party of miners, led by the gallant and aggrieved major himself, who shouted:

"Lynch the scoundrel, boys--that's the only thing to do!"

The excited reporter sprang to his feet in an agony of genuine humanityand suppressed itemizing, and screamed:

"Major, wait a minute--you'll be sorry if you don't!"

But the gallant major had been at the bar for two or three hours, preparing himself for this valorous deed, and the courage he had thereimbibed knew not how to brook delay--not until the crowd had reached themouth of the cave and found it dark, and had heard one unduly prudentminer suggest that it might be well to have a light, so as to dodgebeing sliced in the dark. 

"Bring a light quick, then, " shouted the major. "_I'll_ drag him outwhen it comes; he knows _my_ grip, curse him!"

A bunch of dried grass was hastily lighted and thrown into the cave, andthe major rapidly followed it, while as many miners as could crowd inafter him hastened to do so. They found the major, with white face andtrembling limbs, standing in front of the lady for whose sake they haddone so much elaborate dressing in the morning, and who they hadafterwards wrathfully seen departing in the stage. 

The major rallied, turned around, and said:

"There's some mistake here, gentlemen. Won't you have the kindness toleave us alone?"

Slowly--very slowly--the crowd withdrew. It seemed to them that, in thenature of things, the lady ought to have it out with the major withpistols or knives for disturbing her, and that they, who were in all thesadness of disappointment at failure of a well-planned independentexecution, ought to see the end of the whole affair. But a beseechinglook from the lady herself finally cleared the cave, and the majorexclaimed:

"Louise, what does this mean?"

"It means, " said the lady, with most perfect composure, "that, thanks toa worthless father and a bad bringing-up by an incapable mother, Ernesthas found his way into this country. I came to find him, and I found himin this hole, to which his affectionate father brought him to-day. It isabout as well, I imagine, that I helped him to escape, seeing to whatfurther kind attentions you had reserved him. "

"Please don't be so icy, Louise, " begged the major. "He attempted to roband kill me, the young rascal; besides, I had not the faintest idea ofwho he was. "

"Perhaps, " said the lady, still very calm, "you will tell me from whomhe inherited the virtues which prompted his peculiar actions towardsyou? His _mother_ has always earned her livelihood honorably. "

"Louise, " said the major, with a humility which would have astonishedhis acquaintance, "won't you have the kindness to reserve your sarcasmuntil I am better able to bear it? You probably think I have no heart--Iacknowledge I have thought as much myself--but _something_ is making mefeel very weak and tender just now. "

The lady looked critically at him for a moment, and then burst intotears. 

"Oh, God!" she sobbed, "what else is there in store for this poor, miserable, injured life of mine?"

"Restitution, " whispered the major softly--"if you will let me make it, or try to make it. "

The weeping woman looked up inquiringly, and said only the words:

"And she?"

"My first wife?" answered the major. "Dead--_really_ dead, Louise, as Ihope to be saved. She died several years ago, and I longed to do youjustice then, but the memory of our parting was too much for my cowardlysoul. If you will take me as I am, Louise, I will, as long as I live, remember the past, and try to atone for it. "

She put her hand in his, and they left the gopher-hole together. As theydisappeared in the outer darkness, there emerged from one of thecompartments of the cave an individual whose features wereindistinguishable in the darkness, but who was heard to emphaticallyexclaim:

"If I had the dust, I'd start a live daily here, just to tell the wholestory; though the way he got out didn't do _me_ any particular credit. "

 * * * * *

For days the residents of Happy Rest used all available mentalstimulants to aid them in solving the mystery of the major and thewonderful lady; but, as the mental stimulants aforesaid were allspirituous, the results were more deplorable than satisfactory. Butwhen, a few days later, the couple took the stage for Rum Valley, theenterprising Spidertracks took an outside passage, and at the end of theroute had his persistency rewarded by seeing, in the Bangup House, aSister of Charity tenderly embrace the major's fair charge, start at thesight of the major, and then, after some whispering by the happy mother, sullenly extend a hand, which the major grasped heartily, and over whichthere dropped something which, though a drop of water, was not arain-drop. Then did Spidertracks return to the home of his adoption, andlavish the stores of his memory; and for days his name was famous, andhis liquor was paid for by admiring auditors. 

[Illustration]

TWO POWERFUL ARGUMENTS. 

"Got him?"

"You bet!"

The questioner looked pleased, yet not as if his pleasure engendered anymental excitement. The man who answered spoke in an ordinary, carelesstone, and with unmoved countenance, as if he were merely signifying theemployment of an additional workman, or the purchase of a desirablerooster. 

Yet the subject of the brief conversation repeated above was no otherthan Bill Bowney, the most industrious and successful of thehorse-thieves and "road-agents" that honored the southern portion ofCalifornia with their presence. 

Nor did Bowney restrict himself to the duty of redistributing theproperty of other people. Perhaps he belonged to that class of politicaleconomists which considers superfluous population an evil; perhaps hewas a religious enthusiast, and ardently longed that all mankind shouldspeedily see the pearly gates of the New Jerusalem. 

Be his motives what they might, it is certain that when an unarmed manmet Bowney, entered into a discussion with him, and lived verbally toreport the same, he was looked upon with considerably more interest thana newly-made Congressman or a ten-thousand-acre farmer was able toinspire. 

The two men whose conversation we have recorded studied the ears oftheir own horses for several minutes, after which the first speakerasked:

"How did you do it?"

"Well, " replied the other man, "ther' wasn't anything p'tickler 'boutit. Me an' him wuzn't acquainted, so he didn't suspect me. But I know'dhis face--he wuz p'inted out to me once, durin' the gold-rush to KernRiver, an' I never forgot him. I wuz on a road I never traveledbefore--goin' to see an old greaser, ownin' a mighty pretty piece ofground I wanted--when all of a sudden I come on a cabin, an' thar stoodBill in front of it, a-smokin'. I axed him fur a light, an' when he cameup to give it to me, I grabbed him by the shirt-collar an' dug the spurinto the mare. 'Twus kind of a mean trick, imposin' on hospitalitythat-a-way; but 'twuz Bowney, you know. He hollered, an' I let him walkin front, but I kep' him covered with the revolver till I met somefellers, that tied him good an' tight. 'Twuzn't excitin' wurth adurn--that is, ixcep' when his wife--I s'pose 'twuz--hollered, then Ia'most wished I'd let him go. "

"Sheriff got him?" inquired the first speaker. 

"Well, no, " returned the captor. "Sheriff an' judge mean well, I s'pose;but they're slow--mighty slow. Besides, he's got friends, an' they mightbe too much fur the sheriff some night. We tuk him to the Broad Oak, an'we thought we'd ax the neighbors over thar to-night, to talk it over. Bethar?"

"You bet!" replied the first speaker. "And I'll bring my friends;nothing like having plenty of witnesses in important legal cases. "

"Jus' so, " responded the other. "Well, here's till then;" and the twomen separated. 

The Broad Oak was one of those magnificent trees which are foundoccasionally through Southern California, singly or dispersed inhandsome natural parks. 

The specimen which had so impressed people as to gain a special name foritself was not only noted for its size, but because it had occasionallybeen selected as the handiest place in which Judge Lynch could hold hiscourt without fear of molestation by rival tribunals. 

Bill Bowney, under favorable circumstances, appeared to be a veryhomely, lazy, sneaking sort of an individual; but Bill Bowney, coveredwith dust, his eyes bloodshot, his clothes torn, and his hands and feettightly bound, had not a single attractive feature about him. 

He stared earnestly up into the noble tree under whose shadow he lay;but his glances were not of admiration--they seemed, rather, to beresting on two or three fragments of rope which remained on one of thelower limbs, and to express sentiments of the most utter loathing anddisgust. 

The afternoon wore away, and the moon shone brilliantly down from thecloudless sky. 

The tramp of a horse was heard at a distance, but rapidly growing moredistinct, and soon Bowney's captor galloped up to the tree. 

Then another horse was heard, then others, and soon ten or a dozen menwere gathered together. 

Each man, after dismounting, walked up to where the captive lay, andgave him a searching look, and then they joined those who had alreadypreceded them, and who were quietly chatting about wheat, cattle, trees--everything but the prisoner. 

Suddenly one of the party separated himself from the others, andexclaimed:

"Gentlemen, there don't seem to be anybody else a-comin'--we might aswell 'tend to bizness. I move that Major Burkess takes the chair, ifthere's no objections. "

No objections were made, and Major Burkess--a slight, peaceable, gentlemanly-looking man--stepped out of the crowd, and said:

"You all know the object of this meeting, gentlemen. The first thing inorder is to prove the identity of the prisoner. "

"Needn't trouble yourself 'bout that, " growled the prisoner. "I'm BillBowney; an' yer too cowardly to untie me, though ther _be_ a dozen uvyer. "

"The prisoner admits he is Bill Bowney, " continued the major, "but ofcourse no gentleman will take offense at his remarks. Has any one anycharge to make against him?"

"Charges?" cried an excitable farmer. "Didn't I catch him untying myhorse, an' ridin' off on him from Budley's? Didn't I tell him to dropthat anamile, an' didn't he purty near drop _me_ instead?Charges?--here's the charge!" concluded the farmer, pointingsignificantly to a scar on his own temple. 

"Pity I didn't draw a better bead!" growled the prisoner. "The hoss onlyfetched two ounces. "

"Prisoner admits stealing Mr. Barke's horse, and firing on Mr. Barke. Any further evidence?"

"Rather, " drawled an angular gentleman. "I was goin' up the valley bythe stage, an' all of a sudden the driver stopped where there wasn't nostation. There was fellers had hold of the leaders, an' there waspistols p'inted at the driver an' folks in general. Then our money an'watches was took, an' the feller that took mine had a cross-cut scar onthe back of his hand--right hand; maybe somebody'll look at Bill's. "

The prisoner was carried into the moonlight, and the back of his righthand was examined by the major. The prisoner was again placed under thetree. 

"The cut's there, as described, " said the major. "Anything else?"

"Ther's this much, " said another. "I busted up flat, you all know, onaccount of the dry season, last year, an' I hadn't nothin' left but myhoss. Bill Bowney knowed it as well's anybody else, yet he come andstole that hoss. It pawed like thunder, an' woke me up--fur 'twas night, an' light as 'tis now--an' I seed Bowney a-ridin' him off. 'Twas asneakin', mean, cowardly trick. "

The prisoner hung his head; he would plead guilty to theft and attemptto kill, and defy his captors to do their worst; but when meanness andcowardice were proved against him, he seemed ashamed of himself. 

"Prisoner virtually admits the charge, " said the major, lookingcritically at Bowney. 

"Gentlemen, " said Caney, late of Texas, "what's the use of wastin' timethis way? Everybody knows that Bowney's been at the bottom of all thedeviltry that's been done in the county this three year. Highwayrobbery's a hangin' offense in Texas an' every other well-regilatedState; so's hoss-stealin', an' so's shootin' a man in the back, an' yitBowney's done ev'ry one of 'em over an' over agin. Ev'rybody knows whatwe come here fur, else what's the reason ev'ry man's got a nice littlecoil o' rope on his saddle fur? The longer the bizness is put off, theharder it'll be to do. I move we string him up instanter. "

"Second the motion!" exclaimed some one. 

"I move we give him a chance to save himself, " said a quiet farmer fromNew England. "When he's in the road-agent business, he has a crowd tohelp him. Now, 'twould do us more good to clean _them_ out than himalone, so let's give him a chance to leave the State if he'll tell whohis confederates are. Somebody'll have to take care of him, of course, till we can catch them, and make sure of it. "

"'Twon't cost the somebody much, then, " said the prisoner, firmly; "an'I'd give a cool thousand for a shot at any low-lived coyote that 'ud axme to do sich an ungentlemanly thing. "

"Spoke like a man, " said Caney, of Texas. "I hope ye'll die easy forthat, Bill. "

"The original motion prevails, " said the major; "all in favor will sayay. "

A decided "ay" broke from the party. 

"Whoever has the tallest horse will please lead him up and unsaddlehim, " said the major, after a slight pause. "The witnesses will take theprisoner in charge. "

A horse was brought under the limb, with the fragments of rope upon it, and the witnesses, one of them bearing a piece of rope, approached theprisoner. 

The silence was terrible, and the feelings of all present were greatlyrelieved when Bill Bowney--placed on the horse, and seeing the ropehauled taught and fastened to a bough by a man in the tree--broke into afrenzy of cursing, and displayed the defiant courage peculiar to ananimal at bay. 

"Has the prisoner anything to say?" asked the major, as Bowney stoppedfor breath. 

"Better own up, and save yourself and reform, and help rid the world ofthose other scoundrels, " pleaded the New Englander. 

"Don't yer do it, Bill--don't yer do it!" cried Caney, of Texas. "Stickto yer friends, an' die like a man!"

"That's me!" said the prisoner, directing a special volley of curses atthe New Englander. "It's ben said here that I wuz sneakin' an' cowardly;ther's _one_ way of givin' that feller the lie--hurry up an' do it!"

"When I raise my hand, " said the major, "lead the horse away; and maythe Lord have mercy on your soul, Bowney!"

"Amen!" fervently exclaimed the New Englander. 

Again there was a moment of terrible silence, and when a gentle windswept over the wild oats and through the tree, there seemed to sound onthe air a sigh and a shudder. 

Suddenly all the horses started and pricked up their ears. 

"Somebody's comin'!" whispered one of the party. "Sheriff's got wind ofthe arrangements, maybe!"

"Comes from the wrong direction, " cried Caney, of Texas, quickly. "It'ssomebody on foot--an' tired--an' light-footed--ther's two orthree--dunno what kind o' bein's they _ken_ be. Thunder an' lightnin'!"

Caney's concluding remark was inspired by the sudden appearance of awoman, who rushed into the shadow of the tree, stopped, looked wildlyabout for a moment, and then threw herself against the prisoner's feet, and uttered a low, pitiful cry. 

There was a low murmur from the crowd, and the major cried:

"Take him down; give him fifteen minutes with his wife, and see shedoesn't untie him. "

[Illustration: "TAKE HIM DOWN; GIVE HIM FIFTEEN MINUTES WITH HIS WIFE. "]

The man in the tree loosened the rope, Bowney was lifted off and placedon the ground again, and the woman threw herself on the ground besidehim, caressed his ugly face, and wailed pitifully. The judge and juryfidgeted about restlessly. Still the horses stood on the alert, and soonthree came through the oats--three children, all crying. 

As they saw the men they became dumb, and stood mute and frightened, staring at their parents. 

They were not pretty--they were not even interesting. Mother andchildren were alike--unwashed, uncombed, shoeless, and clothed in dirty, faded calico. The children were all girls--the oldest not more than tenyears old, and the youngest scarce five. None of them pleaded for theprisoner, but still the woman wailed and moaned, and the children stoodstaring in dumb piteousness. 

The major stood quietly gazing at the face of his watch. There was notin Southern California a more honest man than Major Burkess; yet theminute-hand of his watch had not indicated more than one-half of fifteenminutes, when he exclaimed:

"Time's up!"

The men approached the prisoner--the woman threw her arms around him, and cried:

"My husband! Oh, God!"

"Madam, " said the major, "your husband's life is in his own hands. Hecan save himself by giving the names of his confederates and leaving theState. "

"I'll tell you who they are?" cried the woman. 

"God curse yer if yer do!" hissed Bowney from between his teeth. 

"Better let him be, madam, " argued Caney, of Texas. He'd better die likea man than go back on his friends. Might tell us which of 'em was manenough to fetch you and the young uns here? We'll try to be easy on himwhen we ketch him. "

"None of 'em, " sobbed the woman. "We walked, an' I took turns totin' theyoung uns. My husband! Oh, God! my husband!"

"Beg yer pardon, ma'am, " said Bowney's captor, "but nobody can't b'leevethat; it's nigh onto twenty mile. "

"I'd ha' done it ef it had been fifty, " cried the woman, angrily, "when_he_ wuz in trouble. Oh, God! Oh, God! Don't yer b'leeve it? Then lookhere!" She picked up the smallest child as she spoke, and in the dimlight the men saw that its little feet were torn and bleeding. "'Twastheir blood or his'n, " cried the woman, rapidly, "an' I didn't know howto choose between 'em. God hev mercy on me! I'm nigh crazy!"

Caney, of Texas, took the child from its mother and carried it to wherethe moonlight was unobstructed. He looked carefully at its feet, andthen shouted:

"Bring the prisoner out here. "

Two men carried Bowney to where Caney was standing, and the whole party, with the woman and remaining children, followed. 

"Bill, " said Caney, "_I_ ain't a askin' yer to go back on yer friends, but _them_ is--look at 'em. "

And Caney held the child's feet before the father's eyes, while thewoman threw her arms around his neck, and the two older children creptup to the prisoner, and laid their faces against his legs. 

"They're a-talkin' to yer, Bill, " resumed Caney, of Texas, "an' they'rethe convincenist talkers _I_ ever seed. "

The desperado turned his eyes away; but Caney moved the child so itsbleeding feet were still before its father's eyes. 

The remaining men all retired beneath the shadow of the tree, for thetender little feet were talking to them, too, and they were ashamed ofthe results. 

Suddenly Bowney uttered a deep groan. 

"'Tain't no use a-tryin', " said he, in a resigned tone. "Everybody'll bedown on me, an' after all I've done, too! But yer ken hev their names, curse yer!"

The woman went into hysterics; the children cried; Caney, of Texas, ejaculated, "Bully!" and then kissed the poor little bruised feet. 

The New Englander fervently exclaimed, "Thank God!"

"I'll answer fur him till we get 'em, " said Caney, after the major hadwritten down the names Bowney gave him; "an', " continued Caney, "somebody git the rest of these young uns an' ther mother to my cabinpowerful quick. Good Lord, don't I jist wish they wuz boys! I'd adoptthe hull family. "

The court informally adjourned _sine die_, but had so many meetingsafterward at the same place to dispose of Bowney's accomplices, that hisfreedom was considered fairly purchased, and he and his family werelocated a good way from the scenes of his most noted exploits. 

[Illustration]

MR. PUTCHETT'S LOVE. 

Just after two o'clock, on a July afternoon, Mr. Putchett mountedseveral steps of the Sub-Treasury in Wall Street, and gazed inquiringlyup and down the street. 

To the sentimental observer Mr. Putchett's action, in taking theposition we have indicated, may have seemed to signify that Mr. Putchettwas of an aspiring disposition, and that in ascending the steps heexemplified his desire to get above the curbstone whose name was used asa qualifying adjective whenever Mr. Putchett was mentioned as a broker. Those persons, however, who enjoyed the honor of Mr. Putchett'sacquaintance immediately understood that the operator in question was infunds that day, and that he had taken the position from which he couldmost easily announce his moneyed condition to all who might desireassistance from him. 

It was rather late in the day for business, and certain persons who haduntil that hour been unsuccessful in obtaining the accommodationsdesired were not at all particular whether their demands were satisfiedin a handsome office, or under the only roof that can be enjoyed free ofrent. 

There came to Mr. Putchett oddly-clothed members of his own profession, and offered for sale securities whose numbers Mr. Putchett compared withthose on a list of bonds stolen; men who deposited with him smallarticles of personal property--principally jewelry--as collaterals onsmall loans at short time and usurious rates; men who stood before himon the sidewalk, caught his eye, summoned him by a slight motion of thehead, and disappeared around the corner, whither Mr. Putchett followedthem only to promptly transact business and hurry back to hisbusiness-stand. 

In fact, Mr. Putchett was very busy, and as in his case businessinvariably indicated profit, it was not wonderful that his ratherunattractive face lightened and expressed its owner's satisfaction atthe amount of business he was doing. Suddenly, however, there attackedMr. Putchett the fate which, in its peculiarity of visiting people intheir happiest hours, has been bemoaned by poets of genuine and doubtfulinspiration, from the days of the sweet singer of Israel unto those ofthat sweet singer of Erin, whose recital of experience with younggazelles illustrates the remorselessness of the fate alluded to. 

Plainly speaking, Mr. Putchett went suddenly under a cloud, for duringone of his dashes around the corner after a man who had signaled him, and at the same time commenced to remove a ring from his finger, asmall, dirty boy handed Mr. Putchett a soiled card, on which waspenciled:

"Bayle is after you, about that diamond. "

Despite the fact that Mr. Putchett had not been shaved for some days, and had apparently neglected the duty of facial ablution for quite aslong a time, he turned pale and looked quickly behind him and across thestreet; then muttering "Just my luck!" and a few other words moredesponding than polite in nature, he hurried to the Post-Office, wherehe penciled and dispatched a few postal-cards, signed in initials only, announcing an unexpected and temporary absence. Then, still lookingcarefully and often at the faces in sight, he entered a newspaper officeand consulted a railway directory. He seemed in doubt, as he rapidlyturned the leaves; and when he reached the timetable of a certain roadrunning near and parallel to the seaside, the change in his countenanceindicated that he had learned the whereabouts of a city of refuge. 

An hour later Mr. Putchett, having to bid no family good-by, to carefor no securities save those stowed away in his capacious pockets, andfreed from the annoyance of baggage by reason of the fact that he had onhis back the only outer garments that he owned, was rapidly leaving NewYork on a train, which he had carefully assured himself did not carrythe dreaded Bayle. 

Once fairly started, Mr. Putchett in some measure recovered his spirits. He introduced himself to a brakeman by means of a cigar, and questionedhim until he satisfied himself that the place to which he had purchaseda ticket was indeed unknown to the world, being far from the city, several miles from the railroad, and on a beach where boats could notsafely land. He also learned that it was not a fashionable Summerresort, and that a few farmhouses (whose occupants took Summer boarders)and an unsuccessful hotel were the only buildings in the place. 

Arrived at his destination, Mr. Putchett registered at the hotel andpaid the week's board which the landlord, after a critical survey of hisnew patron, demanded in advance. 

Then the exiled operator tilted a chair in the barroom, lit an execrablecigar, and, instead of expressing sentiments of gratitude appropriate tothe occasion, gave way to profane condemnations of the bad fortune whichhad compelled him to abandon his business. 

He hungrily examined the faces of the few fishermen of the neighboringbay who came in to drink and smoke, but no one of them seemed likely toneed money--certainly no one of them seemed to have acceptablecollaterals about his person or clothing. On the contrary, these men, while each one threw Mr. Putchett a stare of greater or less magnitude, let the financier alone so completely that he was conscious of a severewound in his self-esteem. 

It was a strange experience, and at first it angered him so that hestrode up to the bar, ordered a glass of best brandy, and defiantlydrank alone; but neither the strength of the liquor nor the intensity ofhis anger prevented him from soon feeling decidedly lonely. 

At the cheap hotel at which he lodged when in New York there was no onewho loved him or even feared him, but there were a few men of his ownkind who had, for purposes of mutual recreation, tabooed businesstransactions with each other, and among these he found a grim sort ofenjoyment--of companionship, at least. Here, however, he was so utterlyalone as to be almost frightened, and the murmuring and moaning of thesurf on the beach near the hotel added to his loneliness a sense ofterror. 

Almost overcome by dismal forebodings, Mr. Putchett hurried out of thehotel and toward the beach. Once upon the sands, he felt better; the fewpeople who were there were strangers, of course, but they were women andchildren; and if the expression of those who noticed him was wondering, it was inoffensive--at times even pitying, and Mr. Putchett was in ahumor to gratefully accept even pity. 

Soon the sun fell, and the people straggled toward their respectiveboarding-houses, and Mr. Putchett, to fight off loneliness as long aspossible, rose from the bench on which he had been sitting and followedthe party up the beach. 

He had supposed himself the last person that left the beach, but in amoment or two he heard a childish voice shouting:

"Mister, mister! I guess you've lost something!"

Mr. Putchett turned quickly, and saw a little girl, six or seven yearsof age, running toward him. In one hand she held a small pail and woodenshovel, and in the other something bright, which was too large for herlittle hand to cover. 

She reached the broker's side, turned up a bright, healthy face, openedher hand and displayed a watch, and said:

"It was right there on the bench where you were sitting. I couldn'tthink what it was, it shone so. "

Mr. Putchett at first looked suspiciously at the child, for he had atone period of his life labored industriously in the business of droppingbogus pocketbooks and watches, and obtaining rewards from personsclaiming to be their owners. 

[Illustration: MR. PUTCHETT'S NEW FRIEND. ]

Examining the watch which the child handed him, however, he recognizedit as one upon which he had lent twenty dollars earlier in the day. 

First prudently replacing the watch in the pocket of his pantaloons, soas to avoid any complication while settling with the finder, he handedthe child a quarter. 

"Oh, no, thank you, " said she, hastily; "mamma gives me money whenever Ineed it. "

The experienced operator immediately placed the fractional currencywhere it might not tempt the child to change her mind. Then he studiedher face with considerable curiosity, and asked:

"Do you live here?"

"Oh, no, " she replied; "we're only spending the Summer here. We live inNew York. "

Mr. Putchett opened his eyes, whistled, and remarked:

"It's very funny. "

"Why, I don't think so, " said the child, very innocently. "Lots ofpeople that board here come from New York. Don't you want to see mywell? I dug the deepest well of anybody to-day. Just come and see--it'sonly a few steps from here. "

Mechanically, as one straggling with a problem above his comprehension, the financier followed the child, and gazed into a hole, perhaps a footand a half deep, on the beach. 

"That's my well, " said she, "and that one next it is Frank's. Nellie'sis way up there. I guess hers _would_ have been the biggest, but a wavecame up and spoiled it. "

Mr. Putchett looked from the well into the face of its little digger, and was suddenly conscious of an insane desire to drink some of thewater. He took the child's pail, dipped some water, and was carrying itto his lips, when the child spoiled what was probably the firstsentimental feeling of Mr. Putchett's life by hastily exclaiming:

"You mustn't drink that--it's salty!"

The sentimentalist sorrowfully put the bitter draught away, and thechild rattled on:

"If you're down here to-morrow, I'll show you where we findscallop-shells; maybe you can find some with pink and yellow spots onthem. _I've_ got some. If you don't find any, I'll give you one. "

"Thank you, " said her companion. 

Just then some one shouted "Alice!" and the child exclaiming, "Mamma'scalling me; good-by, " hurried away, while the broker walked slowlytoward the hotel with an expression of countenance which would havehidden him from his oldest acquaintance. 

Mr. Putchett spent the evening on the piazza instead of in the barroom, and he neither smoked nor drank. Before retiring he contracted with thecolored cook to shave him in the morning, and to black his boots; and hevisited the single store of the neighborhood and purchased a shirt, somecollars, and a cravat. 

When in the morning he was duly shaved, dressed and brushed, hecritically surveyed himself in the glass, and seemed quite dissatisfied. He moved from the glass, spread a newspaper on the table, and put intoit the contents of his capacious pockets. A second examination beforethe glass seemed more satisfactory in result, thus indicating that tothe eye of Mr. Putchett his well-stuffed pockets had been unsightly ineffect. 

The paper and its contents he gave the landlord to deposit in the hotelsafe; then he ate a hurried, scanty breakfast, and again sought thebench on the beach. 

No one was in sight, for it was scarcely breakfast-time at theboarding-houses; so he looked for little Alice's well, and mourned tofind that the tide had not even left any sign of its location. 

Then he seated himself on the bench again, contemplating his boots, looked up the road, stared out to sea, and then looked up the roadagain, tried to decipher some of the names carved on the bench, walkedbackward and forward, looking up the road at each turn he made, and inevery way indicated the unpleasant effect of hope deferred. 

Finally, however, after two hours of fruitless search, Mr. Putchett'seyes were rewarded by the sight of little Alice approaching the beachwith a bathing-party. He at first hurried forward to meet her, but hewas restrained by a sentiment found alike in curbstone-brokers and incharming young ladies--a feeling that it is not well to give one's selfaway without first being sufficiently solicited to do so. 

He noticed, with a mingled pleasure and uneasiness, that little Alicedid not at first recognize him, so greatly had his toilet altered hisgeneral appearance. 

Even after he made himself known, he was compelled to submit to furtherdelay, for the party had come to the beach to bathe, and little Alicemust bathe, too. 

She emerged from a bathing-house in a garb very odd to the eyes of Mr. Putchett, but one which did not at all change that gentleman's opinionof the wearer. She ran into the water, was thrown down by the surf, shewas swallowed by some big waves and dived through others, and all thewhile the veteran operator watched her with a solicitude, which, despitehis anxiety for her safety, gave him a sensation as delightful as it wasstrange. 

The bath ended, Alice rejoined Mr. Putchett and conducted him to thespot where the wonderful shells with pink and yellow spots were found. The new shell-seeker was disgusted when the child shouted "Come along!"to several other children, and was correspondingly delighted when theysaid, in substance, that shells were not so attractive as once theywere. 

Mr. Putchett's researches in conchology were not particularlysuccessful, for while he manfully moved about in the uncomfortable andungraceful position peculiar to shell-seekers, he looked rather at thehealthy, honest, eager little face near him than at the beach itself. 

Suddenly, however, Mr. Putchett's opinion of shells underwent a radicalchange, for the child, straightening herself and taking something fromher pocket, exclaimed:

"Oh, dear, somebody's picked up all the pretty ones. I thought, may be, there mightn't be any here, so I brought you one; just see what prettypink and yellow spots there are on it. "

Mr. Putchett looked, and there came into his face the first flush ofcolor that had been there--except in anger--for years. He hadoccasionally received presents from business acquaintances, but he hadcorrectly looked at them as having been forwarded as investments, sothey awakened feelings of suspicion rather than of pleasure. 

But at little Alice's shell he looked long and earnestly, and when heput it into his pocket he looked for two or three moments far away, andyet at nothing in particular. 

"Do you have a nice boarding-house?" asked Alice, as they saunteredalong the beach, stopping occasionally to pick up pebbles and to digwells. 

"Not very, " said Mr. Putchett, the sanded barroom and his own ratherdismal chamber coming to his mind. 

"You ought to board where we do, " said Alice, enthusiastically. "We have_heaps_ of fun. Have you got a barn?"

Mr. Putchett confessed that he did not know. 

"Oh, we've got a splendid one!" exclaimed the child. "There's stalls, and a granary, and a carriage-house and _two_ lofts in it. We put outhay to the horses, and they eat it right out of our hands--aren't afraida bit. Then we get into the granary, and bury ourselves all up in theoats, so only our heads stick out. The lofts are just _lovely_: one'sfull of hay and the other's full of wheat, and we chew the wheat, andmake gum of it. The hay-stalks are real nice and sweet to chew, too. They only cut the hay last week, and we all rode in on the wagon--one, two, three, four--seven of us. Then we've got two croquet sets, and theboys make us whistles and squalks. "

"Squalks?" interrogated the broker. 

"Yes; they're split quills, and you blow in them. They don't make verypretty music, but it's ever so funny. We've got two big swings and ahammock, too. "

"Is the house very full?" asked Mr. Putchett. 

"Not so very, " replied the child. "If you come there to board, I'll makeFrank teach you how to make whistles. "

That afternoon Mr. Putchett took the train for New York, from which cityhe returned the next morning with quite a well-filled trunk. It wasafterward stated by a person who had closely observed the capitalist'smovements during his trip, that he had gone into a first-classclothier's and demanded suits of the best material and latest cut, regardless of cost, and that he had pursued the same singular coarse ata gent's furnishing store, and a fashionable jeweler's. 

Certain it is that on the morning of Mr. Putchett's return a gentlemanvery well dressed, though seemingly ill at ease in his clothing, calledat Mrs. Brown's boarding-house, and engaged a room, and that the youngerladies pronounced him very stylish and the older ones thought him veryodd. But as he never intruded, spoke only when spoken to, and devotedhimself earnestly and entirely to the task of amusing the children, theboarders all admitted that he was very good-hearted. 

Among Alice's numerous confidences, during her second stroll with Mr. Putchett, was information as to the date of her seventh birthday, nowvery near at hand. When the day arrived, her adorer arose unusuallyearly, and spent an impatient hour or two awaiting Alice's appearance. As she bade him good-morning, he threw about her neck a chain, to whichwas attached an exquisite little watch; then, while the delighted childwas astonishing her parents and the other boarders, Mr. Putchett betookhimself to the barn in a state of abject sheepishness. He did not appearagain until summoned by the breakfast-bell, and even then he sat with avery red face, and with eyes directed at his plate only. The child'smother remonstrated against so much money being squandered on a child, and attempted to return the watch, but he seemed so distressed at theidea that the lady dropped the subject. 

For a fortnight, Mr. Putchett remained at the boarding-house, and grewdaily in the estimation of every one. From being thought queer andstrange, he gradually gained the reputation of being the best-hearted, most guileless, most considerate man alive. He was the faithful squireof all the ladies, both young and old, and was adored by all thechildren. His conversational powers--except on matters of business--werenot great, but his very ignorance on all general topics, and thehumility born of that ignorance, gave to his manners a deference whichwas more gratifying to most ladies than brilliant loquacity would havebeen. He even helped little Alice to study a Sunday-school lesson, andthe experience was so entirely new to him, that he became more deeplyinterested than the little learner herself. He went to church on Sunday, and was probably the most attentive listener the rather prosy old pastorhad. 

Of course he bathed--everybody did. A stout rope was stretched from apost on the shore to a buoy in deep water where it was anchored, andback and forth on this rope capered every day twenty or thirty hideouslydressed but very happy people, among whom might always be seen Mr. Putchett with a child on his shoulder. 

One day the waves seemed to viciously break near the shore, and thebathers all followed the rope out to where there were swells instead ofbreakers. Mr. Putchett was there, of course, with little Alice. Heseemed perfectly enamored of the water, and delighted in venturing asfar to the sea as the rope would allow, and there ride on the swells, and go through all other ridiculously happy antics peculiar toocean-lovers who cannot swim. 

Suddenly Mr. Putchett's hand seemed to receive a shock, and he felthimself sinking lower than usual, while above the noise of the surf andthe confusion of voices he heard some one roar:

"The rope has broken--scramble ashore!"

[Illustration: HE THREW UP HIS HAND AS A SIGNAL THAT THE LINE SHOULD BEDRAWN IN. ]

The startled man pulled frantically at the piece of rope in his hand, but found to his horror that it offered no assistance; it was evidentthat the break was between him and the shore. He kicked and paddledrapidly, but seemed to make no headway, and while Alice, realizing thedanger, commenced to cry piteously, Mr. Putchett plainly saw on theshore the child's mother in an apparent frenzy of excitement and terror. 

The few men present--mostly boarding-house keepers and also ex-sailorsand fishermen--hastened with a piece of the broken rope to drag down afishing-boat which lay on the sand beyond reach of the tide. Meanwhile aboy found a fishing-line, to the end of which a stone was fastened andthrown toward the imperiled couple. 

Mr. Putchett snatched at the line and caught it, and in an instant halfa dozen women pulled upon it, only to have it break almost inside Mr. Putchett's hands. Again it was thrown, and again the frightened brokercaught it. This time he wound it about Alice's arm, put the end into herhand, kissed her forehead, said, "Good-by, little angel, God bless you, "and threw up his hand as a signal that the line should be drawn in. Inless than a minute little Alice was in her mother's arms, but when theline was ready to be thrown again, Mr. Putchett was not visible. 

By this time the boat was at the water's edge, and four men--two of whomwere familiar with rowing--sat at the oars, while two of the oldfishermen stood by to launch the boat at the proper instant. Suddenlythey shot it into the water, but the clumsy dip of an oar turned itbroadside to the wave, and in an instant it was thrown, waterlogged, upon the beach. Several precious moments were spent in righting the boatand bailing out the water, after which the boat was safely launched, thefishermen sprang to the oars, and in a moment or two were abreast thebuoy. 

Mr. Putchett was not to be seen--even had he reached the buoy it couldnot have supported him, for it was but a small stick of wood. One ofthe boarders--he who had swamped the boat--dived several times, andfinally there came to the surface a confused mass of humanity whichseparated into the forms of the diver and the broker. 

A few strokes of the oars beached the boat, and old "Captain" Redding, who had spent his Winters at a government life-saving station, picked upMr. Putchett, carried him up to the dry sand, laid him face downward, raised his head a little, and shouted:

"Somebody stand between him and the sun so's to shade his head! Slap hishands, one man to each hand. Scrape up some of that hot, dry sand, andpile it on his feet and legs. Everybody else stand off and give himair. "

The captain's orders were promptly obeyed, and there the women andchildren, some of them weeping, and all of them pale and silent, stoodin a group in front of the bathing-house and looked up. 

"Somebody run to the hotel for brandy, " shouted the captain. 

"Here's brandy, " said a strange voice, "and I've got a hundred dollarsfor you if you bring him to life. "

Every one looked at the speaker, and seemed rather to dislike what theysaw. He was a smart-looking man, but his face seemed very cold andforbidding; he stood apart, with arms folded, and seemed regardless ofthe looks fastened upon him. Finally Mrs. Blough, one of the mostsuccessful and irrepressible gossips in the neighborhood, approached himand asked him if he was a relative of Mr. Putchett's. 

"No, ma'am, " replied the man, with unmoved countenance. "I'm an officerwith a warrant for his arrest, on suspicion of receiving stolen goods. I've searched his traps at the hotel and boarding-house this morning, but can't find what I'm looking for. It's been traced to him, though--has he shown any of you ladies a large diamond?"

"No, " said Mrs. Blough, quite tartly, "and none of us would havebelieved it of him, either. "

"I suppose not, " said the officer, his face softening a little. "I'veseen plenty of such cases before, though. Besides, it isn't my firstcall on Putchett--not by several. "

Mrs. Blough walked indignantly away, but, true to her nature, shequickly repeated her news to her neighbors. 

"He's coming to!" shouted the captain, turning Mr. Putchett on his backand attempting to provoke respiration. The officer was by his side in amoment. Mr. Putchett's eyes had closed naturally, the captain said, andhis lips had moved. Suddenly the stranger laid a hand on the collar ofthe insensible man, and disclosed a cord about his neck. 

"Captain, " said the officer, in a voice very low, but hurried andtrembling with excitement, "Putchett's had a very narrow escape, and Ihate to trouble him, but I must do my duty. There's been a five thousanddollar diamond traced to him. He advanced money on it, knowing it wasstolen. I've searched his property and can't find it, but I'll bet athousand it's on that string around his neck--that's Putchett all over. Now, you let me take it, and I'll let him alone; nobody else need knowwhat's happened. He seems to have behaved himself here, judging by thegood opinion folks have of him, and he deserves to have a chance whichhe won't get if I take him to jail. "

The women had comprehended, from the look of the stranger and thecaptain, that something unusual was going on, and they had crowdednearer and nearer, until they heard the officer's last words. 

"You're a dreadful, hateful man!" exclaimed little Alice. 

The officer winced. 

"Hush, daughter, " said Alice's mother; then she said: "Let him take it, captain; it's too awful to think of a man's going right to prison fromthe gates of death. "

The officer did not wait for further permission, but hastily opened thebathing-dress of the still insensible figure. 

Suddenly the officer started back with an oath, and the people saw, fastened to a string and lying over Mr. Putchett's heart, a smallscallop-shell, variegated with pink and yellow spots. 

"It's one I gave him when I first came here, because he couldn't findany, " sobbed little Alice. 

The officer, seeming suddenly to imagine that the gem might be secretedin the hollow of the shell, snatched at it and turned it over. Mr. Putchett's arm suddenly moved; his hand grasped the shell and carried ittoward his lips; his eyes opened for a moment and fell upon the officer, at the sight of whom Mr. Putchett shivered and closed his eyes again. 

"That chill's a bad sign, " muttered the captain. 

Mr. Putchett's eyes opened once more, and sought little Alice; his facebroke into a faint smile, and she stooped and kissed him. The smile onhis face grew brighter for an instant, then he closed his eyes andquietly carried the case up to a Court of Final Appeals, before whichthe officer showed no desire to give evidence. 

Mr. Putchett was buried the next day, and most of the people in theneighborhood were invited to the funeral. The story went rapidly aboutthe neighborhood, and in consequence there were present at the funeral anumber of uninvited persons: among these were the cook, bar-keeper andhostler of the hotel, who stood uncomfortably a little way from thehouse until the procession started, when they followed at a respectfuldistance in the rear. 

When the grave was reached, those who dug it--who were also of those whocarried the bier--were surprised to find the bottom of the coffin-boxstrewn and hidden with wild flowers and scraps of evergreen. 

The service of the Church of England was read, and as the words, "Ashesto ashes; dust to dust, " were repeated, a bouquet of wild flowers wastossed over the heads of the mourners and into the grave. Mrs. Blough, though deeply affected by the services, looked quickly back to see whowas the giver, and saw the officer (who had not been seen before thatday) with such an embarrassed countenance as to leave no room for doubt. He left before daylight next morning, to catch a very early train: butpersons passing the old graveyard that day beheld on Putchett's grave ahandsome bush of white roses, which bush old Mrs. Gale, living near thehotel, declared was a darling pot-plant which had been purchased of heron the previous evening by an ill-favored man who declared he _must_have it, no matter how much he paid for it. 

[Illustration]

THE MEANEST MAN AT BLUGSEY'S. 

To miners, whose gold-fever had not reached a ridiculous degree of heat, Blugsey's was certainly a very satisfactory location. The dirt was rich, the river ran dry, there was plenty of standing-room on the banks, whichwere devoid of rocks, the storekeeper dealt strictly on the square, andthe saloon contained a pleasing variety of consolatory fluids, whichwere dispensed by Stumpy Flukes, ex-sailor, and as hearty a fellow asany one would ask to see. 

All thieves and claim-jumpers had been shot as fast as discovered, andthe men who remained had taken each other's measures with such accuracy, that genuine fights were about as unfrequent as prayer-meetings. 

The miners dug and washed, ate, drank, swore and gambled with thatdelightful freedom which exists only in localities where society isestablished on a firm and well-settled basis. 

Such being the condition of affairs at Blugsey's, it seemed ratherstrange one morning, hours after breakfast, to see, sprinkled in everydirection, a great number of idle picks, shovels and pans; in fact, theonly mining implements in use that morning were those handled by asingle miner, who was digging and carrying and washing dirt with anindustry which seemed to indicate that he was working as a substitutefor each and every man in the camp. 

He was anything but a type of gold-hunters in general; he was short andthin, and slight and stooping, and greatly round-shouldered; his eyeswere of a painfully uncertain gray, and one of them displayed a castwhich was his only striking feature; his nose had started as a veryretiring nose, but had changed its mind half-way down; his lips werethin, and seemed to yearn for a close acquaintance with his large ears;his face was sallow and thin, and thickly seamed, and his chin appearedto be only one of Nature's hasty afterthoughts. Long, thin gray hairhung about his face, and imparted the only relief to the monotonousdinginess of his features and clothing. 

Such being the appearance of the man, it was scarcely natural to expectthat miners in general would regard him as a special ornament to theprofession. 

In fact, he had been dubbed "Old Scrabblegrab" on the second day of hisoccupancy of Claim No. 32, and such of his neighbors as possessed thegift of tongues had, after more intimate acquaintance with him, expressed themselves doubtful of the ability of language to properlyembody Scrabblegrab's character in a single name. 

The principal trouble was, that they were unable to make anything at allof his character; there was nothing about him which they couldunderstand, so they first suspected him, and then hated him violently, after the usual manner of society toward the incomprehensible. 

And on the particular morning which saw Scrabblegrab the only worker atBlugsey's, the remaining miners were assembled in solemn conclave atStumpy Fluke's saloon, to determine what was to be done with thedetested man. 

The scene was certainly an impressive one; for such quiet had not beenknown at the saloon since the few moments which intervened between thetime, weeks before, when Broadhorn Jerry gave the lie to Captain Greed, and the captain, whose pistol happened to be unloaded, was ready toproceed to business. 

The average miner, when sober, possesses a degree of composure andgravity which would be admirable even in a judge of ripe experience, andminers, assembled as a deliberative body, can display a dignity whichwould drive a venerable Senator or a British M. P. To the uttermostextreme of envy. 

On the occasion mentioned above, the miners ranged themselves near theunoccupied walls, and leaned at various graceful and awkward angles. Boston Ben, who was by natural right the ruler of the camp, took thechair--that is, he leaned against the centre of the bar. On the otherside of the bar leaned Stumpy Flukes, displaying that degree ofconscious importance which was only becoming to a man who, by virtue ofhis position, was sole and perpetual secretary and recorder to allstated meetings at Blugsey's. 

Boston Ben glanced around the room, and then collectively announced thepresence of a quorum, the formal organization of the meeting, and itsreadiness for deliberation, by quietly remarking:

"Blaze away!"

Immediately one of the leaners regained the perpendicular, departed apace from the wall, rolled his tobacco neatly into one cheek, andremarked:

"We've stood it long enough--the bottom's clean out of the pan, Mr. Chairman. Scrabblegrab's declined bitters from half the fellers in camp, an' though his gray old topknot's kept 'em from takin' satisfaction inthe usual manner, they don't feel no better 'bout it than they did. "

The speaker subsided into his section of wall, composed himself into hisown especial angles, and looked like a man who had fully discharged aconscientious duty. 

From the opposite wall there appeared another speaker, who indignantlyremarked:

"Goin' back on bitters ain't a toothful to what he's done. There's youngCurly, that went last week. That boy played his hand in a style thatwould take the conceit clean out uv an angel. But all to onct Curly tookto lookin' flaxed, an' the judge here overheard Scrabblegrab askin'Curly what he thort his mother'd say ef she knew he was makin' his moneythat way? The boy took on wuss an' wuss, an' now he's vamosed. Don'tb'lieve me ef yer don't want ter, fellers--here's the judge hisself. "

The judge briskly advanced his spectacles, which had gained him histitle, and said:

"True ez gospel; and when I asked him ef he wasn't ashamed of himselffur takin' away the boy's comfort, he said No, an' that I'd be a moredecent man ef I'd give up keards myself. "

"He's alive yit!" said the first speaker, in a tone half of inquiry andhalf of reproof. 

"I know it, " said the judge, hastening to explain. "I'd lent mypepperbox to Mose when he went to 'Frisco, an' the old man's too littlefur a man uv my size to hit. "

The judge looked anxiously about until he felt assured his explanationhad been generally accepted. Then he continued:

"What's he good fur, anyhow? He can't sing a song, except somethin'about 'Tejus an' tasteless hours, ' that nobody ever heard before, an'don't want to agin; he don't drink, he don't play keards, he don't evencuss when he tumbles into the river. Ev'ry man's got his p'ints, an' efhe hain't got no good uns, he's sure to have bad uns. Ef he'd only show'em out, there might be somethin' honest about it; but when a fellerjist eats an' sleeps an' works, an' never shows any uv the tastes uv agentleman, ther's somethin' wrong. "

"I don't wish him any harm, " said a tall, good-natured fellow, whosucceeded the judge; "but the feller's looks is agin the reputation uvthe place. In a camp like this here one, whar society's first-class--nogreasers nur pigtails nur loafers--it ain't the thing to hev anybodyaround that looks like a corkscrew that's been fed on green apples andwatered with vinegar--it's discouragin' to gentlemen that might hev anotion of stakin' a claim, fur the sake uv enjoyin' our socialadvantages. "

"N-none uv yer hev got to the wust uv it yit, " remarked another. "Theold cuss is too fond uv his dust. Billy Banks seen him a-buyin' pork upto the store, an' he handled his pouch ez ef 'twas eggs instid of golddust--poured it out as keerful ez yer please, an' even scraped up alittle bit he spilt. Now, when I wuz a little rat, an' went toSunday-school, they used to keep a-waggin' at me 'bout evilcommunication a-corruptin' o' good manners. That's what _he'll_ do--fustthing yer know, _other_ fellers'll begin to be stingy, an' think golddust wuz made to save instid uv to buy drinks an' play keards fur. _That's_ what it'll come to. "

"Beggin' ev'rybody's pardon, " interposed a deserter from the army, "butthese here perceedin's is irreg'lar. 'Tain't the square thing to takeevidence till the pris'ner's in court. "

Boston Ben immediately detailed a special officer to summon OldScrabblegrab, declared a recess of five minutes, and invited the boys todrink with him. 

Those who took sugar in theirs had the cup dashed from their lips justas they were draining the delicious dregs, for the officer and culpritappeared, and the chairman rapped the assembly to order. 

Boston Ben had been an interested attendant at certain law-courts in theStates, so in the calm consciousness of his acquaintance with legalprocedure he rapidly arraigned Scrabblegrab. 

"Scrabblegrab, you're complained uv for goin' back on bitters, coaxin'Curly to give up keards, thus spoilin' his fun, an' knockin'appreciatin' observers out of their amusement; uv insultin' the judge, uv not cussin' when you stumble into the river, uv not havin' any goodp'ints, an' not showin' yer bad ones; uv bein' a set-back on the tone uvthe place--lookin' like a green-apple-fed, vinegar-watered corkscrew, orwords to that effect; an', finally, in savin' yer money. What hev yougot to say agin' sentence bein' passed on yer?"

The old man flushed as the chairman proceeded, and when the indictmentreached its end, he replied, in a tone which indicated anything butrespect for the court:

"I've got just this to say, that I paid my way here, I've asked noodds of any man sence I've ben here, an' that anybody that takes painsto meddle with my affairs is an impudent scoundrel!"

Saying which, the old man turned to go, while the court was paralyzedinto silence. 

But Tom Dosser, a new arrival, and a famous shot, now stepped in frontof the old man. 

"I ax yer parding, " said Tom, in the blandest of tones, "but, uv course, yer didn't mean me when yer mentioned impudent scoundrels?"

"Yes, I did--I meant you, and ev'rybody like yer, " replied the old man. 

Tom's hand moved toward his pistol. The chairman expeditiously got outof range. Stumpy Flukes promptly retired to the extreme end of the bar, and groaned audibly. 

The old man _was_ in the wrong; but, then, wasn't it _too_ mean, whenblood was so hard to get out, that these difficulties _always_ tookplace just after he'd got the floor clean?

[Illustration: "I DON'T GENERALLY SHOOT TILL THE OTHER FELLER DRAWS. "]

"I don't generally shoot till the other feller draws, " explained TomDosser, while each man in the room wept with emotion as they realizedthey had lived to see Tom's skill displayed before their very eyes--"Idon't generally shoot till the other feller draws; but you'd better bespry. I usually make a little allowance for age, but--"

Tom's further explanations were indefinitely delayed by an abnormalcontraction of his trachea, the same being induced by the old man'sright hand, while his left seized the unhappy Thomas by his waist-belt, and a second later the dead shot of Blugsey's was tossed into the middleof the floor, somewhat as a sheaf of oats is tossed by a practiced hand. 

"Anybody else?" inquired the old man. "I'll back Vermont bone an' muscleagin' the hull passel of ye, even if I _be_ a deacon. ' The angel of theLord encampeth round about them that fear him. '"

"The angel needn't hurry hisself, " said Tom Dosser, picking himself up, one joint at a time. "Ef that's the crowd yer travelin' with, andthey've got a grip anything like yourn, I don't want nothin' to do with'em. "

Boston Ben looked excited, and roared:

"This court's adjourned _sine die_. "

Then he rushed up to the newly announced deacon, caught him firmly bythe right hand, slapped him heartily between the shoulders, andinquired, rather indignantly:

"Say, old Angelchum, why didn't you ever let folks know yer style, instead uv trottin' 'round like a melancholy clam with his shells shutup tight? That's what this crowd wants to know! Now yev opened down tobed-rock, we'll git English Sam from Sonora, an' git up the tallest kinduv a rasslin' match. "

"Not unless English Sam meddles with my business, you won't, " repliedthe deacon, quickly. "I've got enough to do fightin' speretual foes. "

"Oh, " said Boston Ben, "we'll manage it so the church folks needn'tthink 'twas a set-up job. We'll put Sam up to botherin' yer, and yer cantackle him at sight. Then--"

"Excuse me, Boston, " interrupted Tom Dosser, "but yer don't hit themark. I'm from Vermont myself, an' deacons there don't fight for the funof it, whatever they may do in the village _you_ hail from. " Then, turning to the old man, Tom asked: "What part uv the old State be yefrom, deacon, an' what fetched ye out?"

"From nigh Rutland, " replied the deacon, "I hed a nice little placethar, an' wuz doin' well. But the young one's eyes is bad. None uv thedoctors thereabouts could do anythin' fur 'em. Took her to Boston;nobody thar could do anythin'--said some of the European doctors werethe only ones that could do the job safely. Costs money goin' to European' payin' doctors--I couldn't make it to hum in twenty year; so I comehere. "

"Only child?" inquired Tom Dosser, while the boys crowded about the twoVermonters, and got up a low buzz of sympathetic conversation. 

The old man heard it all, and to his lonesome and homesick soul it wasso sweet and comforting, that it melted his natural reserve, and madehim anxious to unbosom himself to some one. So he answered Tom:

"Only child of my only darter. "

"Father dead?" inquired Tom Dosser. 

"Better be, " replied the deacon, bitterly. "He left her soon after theywere married. "

"Mean skunk!" said Tom, sympathetically. 

"I want to judge as I'd _be_ judged, " replied the deacon; "but I feel ezef I couldn't call that man bad enough names. Hesby was ez good a gal ezever lived, but she went to visit some uv our folks at Burlington, an'fust thing I know'd she writ me she'd met this chap, and they'd beenmarried, an' wanted us to forgive her; but he was so good, an' she lovedhim so dearly. "

"Good for the gal, " said Tom, and a murmur of approbation ran throughthe crowd. 

"Of course, we forgave her. We'd hev done it ef she married Satanhimself, " continued the deacon. "But we begged her to bring her husbandup home, an' let us look at him. Whatever was good enough for _her_ tolove was good enough for us, and we meant to try to love Hesby'shusband. "

"Done yer credit, deacon, too, " declared Tom, and again the crowduttered a confirmatory murmur. "Ef some folks--deacons, too--wuz ezgood--But go ahead, deac'n. "

"Next thing we heard from her, he had gone to the place he was raisedin; but a friend of his, who went with him, came back, an' let out he'dgot tight, an' been arrested. She writ him right off, beggin' him tocome home, and go with her up to our place, where he could be out oftemptation an' where she'd love him dearer than ever. "

"Pure gold, by thunder!" ejaculated Tom, while a low "You bet, " washeard all over the room. 

Tom's eyes were in such a condition that he thought the deacon's weremisty, and the deacon noticed the same peculiarities about Tom. 

"She never got a word from him, " continued the deacon; "but one of herown came back, addressed in his writing. "

"The infernal scoundrel!" growled Tom, while from the rest of the boysescaped epithets which caused the deacon, indignant as he was, to shiverwith horror. 

"She was nearly crazy, an' started to find him, but nobody knowed wherehe was. The postmaster said he'd come to the office ev'ry day for afortnight, askin' for a letter, so he must hev got hers. "

"Ef all women had such stuff in 'em, " sighed Tom, "there'll be one foolless in California. 'Xcuse me, deac'n. "

"She never gev up hopin' he'd come back, " said the deacon, in accentsthat seemed to indicate labored breath "an' it sometimes seems ez efsuch faith 'd be rewarded by the Lord some time or other. She teachesPet--that's her child--to talk about her papa, an' to kiss his pictur;an' when she an' Pet goes to sleep, his pictur's on the pillar beween'em. "

"An' the idee that any feller could be mean enough to go back on such awoman! Deacon, I'd track him right through the world, an' just tell himwhat you've told us. Ef _that_ didn't fetch him, I'd consider it aChristian duty an' privilege to put a hole through him. "

"I couldn't do that, " replied the deacon, "even ef I was a man uv blood;fur Hesby loves him, an' he's Pet's dad; Besides, his pictur looks likea decent young chap--ain't got no hair on his face, an' looks more likean innercent boy than anythin' else. Hesby thinks Pet looks like him, an' I couldn't touch nobody looking like Pet. Mebbe you'd like to seeher pictur, " continued the deacon, drawing from his pocket an ambrotype, which he opened and handed Tom. 

"Looks sweet ez a posy, " said Tom, regarding it tenderly. "Them littlelips uv hern look jest like a rose when it don't know whether to open alittle further or not. "

The deacon looked pleased, and extracted another picture, and remarked, as he handed it to Tom:

"That's Pet's mother. "

[Illustration: THE DEACON LOOKED PLEASED, AND EXTRACTED ANOTHERPICTURE, AND REMARKED, AS HE HANDED IT TO TOM, "THAT'S PET'S MOTHER. "TOM TOOK IT, LOOKED AT IT, AND SCREAMED, "MY WIFE!"]

Tom took it, looked at it, and screamed:

"_My wife_!"

He threw himself on the floor, and cried as only a big-hearted man _can_cry. 

The deacon gazed wildly about, and gasped:

"What's his name?--tell me quick!"

"Tom Dosser!" answered a dozen or more. 

"That's him! Bless the Lord!" cried the deacon, and finding a seat, dropped into it, and buried his face in his hands. 

For several moments there was a magnificent attempt at silence, but itutterly failed. The boys saw that the deacon and Tom were working a verylarge claim, and to the best of their ability they assisted. 

Stumpy Flukes, under the friendly shelter of the bar, was able to fullyexpress his feelings through his eyelids, but the remainder of theparty, by taking turns at staring out the windows, and contemplating thebottles behind the bar, managed to delude themselves into the beliefthat their eyes were invisible. Finally, Tom arose. "Deacon--boys, " hesaid, "I never got that letter. I wus afeard she'd hear about my scrape, so I wrote her all about it, ez soon ez I got sober, an' begged her toforgive me. An' I waited an' hoped an' prayed for an answer, till Igrowed desperate; an' came out here. "

"She never heerd from you, Thomas, " sighed the deacon. 

"Deac'n, " said Tom, "do you s'pose I'd hev kerried this for years"--herehe drew out a small miniature of his wife--"ef I hadn't loved her? Yes, an' this too, " continued Tom, producing a thin package, wrapped inoilskin. "There's the only two letters I ever got from her, an', justcos her hand writ 'em, I've had 'em just where I took 'em from for fouryears. I got 'em at Albany, 'fore I got on that cussed tare, an' theywas both so sweet an' wifely, that I've never dared to read 'em since, fur fear that thinkin' on what I'd lost would make me even wuss than Iam. But I ain't afeard now, " said Tom, eagerly tearing off the oilskin, and disclosing two envelopes. 

He opened one, took out the letter, opened it with trembling hands, stared blankly at it, and handed it to the deacon. 

"Thar's my letter now--I got 'em in the wrong envelope!"

"Thomas, " said the deacon, "the best thing you can do is to deliver thatletter yourself. An' don't let any grass grow under your feet, ef youken help it. "

"I'm goin' by the first hoss I ken steal, " said Tom. 

"An' tell her I'll be along ez soon as I pan out enough, " continued thedeacon. 

"An' tell her, " said Boston Ben, "that the gov'nor won't be much behindyou. Tell her that when the crowd found out how game the old man was, and what was on his mind, that the court was so ashamed of hisself thathe passed around the hat for Pet's benefit, and"--here Boston Benthoughtfully weighed the hat in his hands--"and that the apology's heavyenough to do Europe a dozen times; I know it, for I've had to travelmyself occasionally. "

Here he deposited the venerable tile with its precious contents on thefloor in front of the deacon. The old man looked at it, and his eyesfilled afresh, as he exclaimed:

"God bless you! I wish I could do something for you in return. "

"Don't mention it, " said Boston Ben, "unless--you--You _couldn't_ makeup your mind to a match with English Sam, could you?"

"Come, boys, " interrupted Stumpy Flukes; "its my treat--name yourmedicine--fill high--all charged?--now then--bottom up, to 'The meanestman at Blugsey's'!"

"That _did_ mean _you_, deacon!" exclaimed Tom; "but I claim it myselfnow, so--so I won't drink it. "

The remainder of the crowd clashed glasses, while Tom and hisfather-in-law bowed profoundly. Then the whole crowd went out to stealhorses for the two men, and had them on the trail within an hour. Asthey rode off, Stumpy Flukes remarked:

"There's a splendid shot ruined for life. "

"Yes, " said Boston Ben, with a deep sigh struggling out of his manlybosom, "an' a bully rassler, too. The Church has got a good deal toanswer fur, fur sp'ilin' that man's chances. "

[Illustration]

DEACON BARKER'S CONVERSION. 

Of the several pillars of the Church at Pawkin Centre, Deacon Barker wasby all odds the strongest. His orthodoxy was the admiration of theentire congregation, and the terror of all the ministers within easydriving distance of the Deacon's native village. He it was who hadargued the late pastor of the Pawkin Centre Church into that state ofdisquietude which had carried him, through a few days of deliriousfever, into the Church triumphant; and it was also Deacon Barker whosequestions at the examination of seekers for the ex-pastor's shoes hadcast such consternation into divinity-schools, far and near, that soonit was very hard to find a candidate for ministerial honors at PawkinCentre. 

Nor was his faith made manifest by words alone. Be the weather what itmight, the Deacon was always in his pew, both morning and evening, intime to join in the first hymn, and on every Thursday night, at aquarter past seven in winter, and a quarter before eight in summer, thegood Deacon's cane and shoes could be heard coming solemnly down theaisle, bringing to the prayer-meeting the champion of orthodoxy. Nor didthe holy air of the prayer-meeting even one single evening fail tovibrate to the voice of the Deacon, as he made, in scriptural language, humble confessions and tearful pleadings before the throne, or--stillstrictly scriptural in expression--he warned and exhorted theimpenitent. The contribution-box always received his sixpence as long asspecie payment lasted, and the smallest fractional currency notethereafter; and to each of the regular annual offerings to themissionary cause, the Bible cause, and kindred Christian enterprises, the Deacon regularly contributed his dollar and his prayers. 

The Deacon could quote scripture in a manner which put Biblicalprofessors to the blush, and every principle of his creed so bristledwith texts, confirmatory, sustentive and aggressive, that doubters wererebuked and free-thinkers were speedily reduced to speechless humilityor rage. But the unregenerate, and even some who professedrighteousness, declared that more fondly than to any other scripturalpassage did the good Deacon cling to the injunction, "Make to yourselvesfriends of the mammon of unrighteousness. " Meekly insisting that he wasonly a steward of the Lord, he put out his Lord's money that he mightreceive it again with usury, and so successful had he been that almostall mortgages held on property near Pawkin Centre were in the hands ofthe good Deacon, and few were the foreclosure sales in which he was notthe seller. 

The new pastor at Pawkin Centre, like good pastors everywhere, hadtortured himself into many a headache over the perplexing question, "Howare we to reach the impenitent in our midst!" The said impenitent were, with but few exceptions, industrious, honest, respectable, law-abidingpeople, and the worthy pastor, as fully impregnated with Yankee-thriftas with piety, shuddered to think of the waste of souls that wasconstantly threatening. At length, like many another pastor, he called ameeting of the brethren, to prayerfully consider this momentousquestion. The Deacon came, of course, and so did all the other pillars, and many of them presented their views. Brother Grave thought the finaldoom of the impenitent should be more forcibly presented; Deacon Struggshad an abiding conviction that it was the Man of Sin holding dominion intheir hearts that kept these people away from the means of grace; DeaconPonder mildly suggested that the object might perhaps be attained ifthose within the fold maintained a more godly walk and conversation, but he was promptly though covertly rebuked by the good Deacon Barker, who reminded the brethren that "it is the _Spirit_ that quickeneth";Brother Flite, who hadn't any money, thought the Church ought to build a"working-man's chapel, " but this idea was promptly and vigorouslycombated by all men of property in the congregation. By this time theusual closing hour had arrived, and after a benediction the faithfuldispersed, each with about the ideas he brought to the meeting. 

Early next morning the good Deacon Barker, with his mind half full ofthe state of the unconverted, and half of his unfinished cow-shed, tookhis stick and hobbled about the village in search of a carpenter tofinish the incomplete structure. There was Moggs, but Moggs had beenbusy all the season, and it would be just like him to want full pricefor a day's work. Stubb was idle, but Stubb was slow. Augur--Augur usedliquor, and the Deacon had long ago firmly resolved that not a cent of_his_ money, if he could help it, should ever go for the accursed stuff. But there was Hay--he hadn't seen him at work for a long time--perhapshe would be anxious enough for work to do it cheaply. 

The Deacon knocked at Hay's door, and Hay himself shouted:

"Come in. "

"How are ye, George, " said the Deacon, looking hastily about the room, and delightfully determining, from the patient face of sad-eyed Mrs. Hayand the scanty furnishing of the yet uncleared breakfast-table, that hehad been providentially guided to the right spot. "How's times with ye?"

"Not very good, Deac'n, " replied Hay. "Nothin' much doin' in town. "

"Money's awful sceerce, " groaned the Deacon. 

"Dreadful, " responded George, devoutly thanking the Lord that he owedthe Deacon nothing. 

"Got much to do this winter?" asked the Deacon. 

"Not by a d--day's job--not a single day, " sorrowfully replied Hay. 

The Deacon's pious ear had been shocked by the young man's imperfectlyconcealed profanity, and for an instant he thought of administering arebuke, but the charms of prospective cheap labor lured the good manfrom the path of rectitude. 

"I'm fixin' my cow-shed--might p'raps give ye a job on't. 'Spose ye'd doit cheap, seein' how dull ev'ry thin' is?"

The sad eyes of Mrs. Hay grew bright in an instant. Her husband's heartjumped up, but he knew to whom he was talking, so he said, as calmly aspossible:

"Three dollars is reg'lar pay. "

The Deacon immediately straightened up as if to go. 

"Too much, " said he; "I'd better hire a common lab'rer at a dollar 'n ahalf, an' boss him myself. It's only a cow-shed, ye know. "

"Guess, though, ye won't want the nails druv no less p'ticler, will ye, Deac'n?" inquired Hay. "But I tell yer what I'll do--I'll throw offfifty cents a day. "

"Two dollars ort to be enough, George, " resumed the Deacon. "Carpenterin's pooty work, an' takes a sight of headpiece sometimes, butthere's no intellec' required to work on a cow-shed. Say two dollars, an' come along. "

The carpenter thought bitterly of what a little way the usual threedollars went, and of how much would have to be done with what he couldget out of the cow-shed, but the idea of losing even that was toohorrible to be endured, so he hastily replied:

"Two an' a quarter, an' I'm your man. "

"Well, " said the Deacon, "it's a powerful price to pay for work on acow-shed, but I s'pose I mus' stan' it. Hurry up; thar's themill-whistle blowin' seven. "

Hay snatched his tools, kissed a couple of thankful tears, out of hiswife's eyes, and was soon busy on the cow-shed, with the Deacon lookingon. 

"George, " said the Deacon suddenly, causing the carpenter to stop hishammer in mid-air, "think it over agen, an' say two dollars. "

Hay gave the good Deacon a withering glance, and for a few moments theforce of suppressed profanity caused his hammer to bang with unusualvigor, while the owner of the cow-shed rubbed his hands in ecstasy atthe industry of his _employe_. 

The air was bracing, the Winter sun shone brilliantly, the Deacon'sbreakfast was digesting fairly, and his mind had not yet freed itselffrom the influences of the Sabbath. Besides, he had secured a goodworkman at a low price, and all these influences combined to put theDeacon in a pleasant frame of mind. He rambled through his mind for atext which would piously express his condition, and texts brought backSunday, and Sunday reminded him of the meeting of the night before. Andhere was one of those very men before him--a good man in many respects, though he _was_ higher-priced than he should be. How was the cause ofthe Master to be prospered if His servants made no effort? Then therecame to the Deacon's mind the passage, "--he which converteth the sinnerfrom the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide amultitude of sins. " What particular sins of his own needed hiding theDeacon did not find it convenient to remember just then, but he meeklyadmitted to himself and the Lord that he had them, in a general way. Then, with that directness and grace which were characteristic of him, the Deacon solemnly said:

"George, what is to be the sinner's doom?"

"I dunno, " replied George, his wrath still warm; "'pears to me you'veleft that bizness till pretty late in life, Deac'n!"

"Don't trifle with sacrid subjec's, George, " said the Deacon, still verysolemn, and with a suspicion of annoyance in his voice. "The wickedshall be cast into hell, with--"

"They can't kerry their cow-sheds with 'em, neither, " interruptedGeorge, consolingly. 

"Come, George, " said the good Deacon, in an appealing tone, "rememberthe apostle says, 'Suffer the word of exhortation. '"

"'Xcuse me, Deac'n, but one sufferin' at a time; I ain't throughsufferin' at bein' beaten down yet. How about deac'ns not being 'givento filthy lucre?'"

The good Deacon was pained, and he was almost out of patience with theapostle for writing things which came so handy to the lips of theunregenerate. He commenced an industrious search for a text which shouldcompletely annihilate the impious carpenter, when that individualinterrupted him with:

"Out with it, Deac'n--ye had a meetin' las' night to see what was to bedone with the impenitent. I was there--that is, I sot on a stool jestoutside the door, an' I heerd all 'twas said. Ye didn't agree onnothin'--mebbe ye'v fixed it up sence. Any how, ye'v sot me down fur oneof the impenitent, an' yer goin' fur me. Well--"

"Go on nailin', " interrupted the economical Deacon, a little testily;"the noise don't disturb me; I can hear ye. "

"Well, what way am I so much wickeder 'n you be--you an' t'other folksat the meetin'-house?" asked Hay. 

"George, I never saw ye in God's house in my life, " replied the Deacon. 

"Well, s'pose ye hevn't--is God so small He can't be nowheres 'xcept inyour little meetin'-house? How about His seein' folks in their closets?"

"George, " said the Deacon, "ef yer a prayin' man, why don't ye jineyerself unto the Lord's people?"

"Why? 'Cos the Lord's people, as you call 'em, don't want me. S'pose Iwas to come to the meetin'-house in these clothes--the only ones I'vegot--d'ye s'pose any of the Lord's people 'd open a pew-door to me? An'spose my wife an' children, dressed no better 'n I be, but as good 's Ican afford, was with me, how d'ye s'pose I'd feel?"

"Pride goeth before a fall, an' a haughty sperit before, " groaned theDeacon, when the carpenter again interrupted. 

"I'd feel as ef the people of God was a gang of insultin' hypocrites, an' ez ef I didn't ever want to see 'em again. Ef that kind o' pride'ssinful, the devil's a saint. Ef there's any thin' wrong about a man'sfeelin' so about himself and them God give him, God's to blame for ithimself; but seein' it's the same feelin' that makes folks keep'emselves strait in all other matters, I'll keep on thinkin' it'sright. "

"But the preveleges of the Gospel, George, " remonstrated the Deacon. 

"Don't you s'pose I know what they're wuth?" continued the carpenter. "Haven't I hung around in front of the meetin'-house Summer nights, whenthe winders was open, jest to listen to the singin' and what else Icould hear? Hezn't my wife ben with me there many a time, and hevn'tboth of us prayed an' groaned an' cried in our hearts, not only 'cos wecouldn't join in it all ourselves, but 'cos we couldn't send thechildren either, without their learnin' to hate religion 'fore theyfairly know'd what 'twas? Haven't I sneaked in to the vestibule Winternights, an' sot just where I did last night, an' heard what I'd 'a likedmy wife and children to hear, an' prayed for the time to come when theself-app'inted elect shouldn't offend the little ones? An' after sittin'there last night, an' comin' home and tellin' my wife how folks wasconcerned about us, an' our rejoicin' together in the hope that some dayour children could hev the chances we're shut out of now, who shouldcome along this mornin' but one of those same holy people, and Jewed medown on pay that the Lord knows is hard enough to live on. "

The Deacon _had_ a heart, and he knew the nature of self-respect as wellas men generally. His mind ran entirely outside of texts for a fewminutes, and then, with a sigh for the probable expense, he remarked:

"Reckon Flite's notion was right, after all--ther' ort to be aworkin'-man's chapel. "

[Illustration]

"Ort?" responded Hay; "who d'ye s'pose'd go to it? Nobody? Ye canrent us second-class houses, an' sell us second-hand clothin', and thecheapest cuts o' meat, but when it comes to cheap religion--nobody knowsits value better 'n we do. We don't want to go into yer parlors oncarpets and furniture we don't know how to use, an' we don't expect tobe asked into society where our talk an' manners might make some bettereddicated people laugh. But when it comes to religion--God knows nobodyneeds an' deserves the very best article more 'n _we_ do. "

The Deacon was a reasonable man, and being old, was beginning to try tolook fairly at matters upon which he expected soon to be very thoroughlyexamined. The indignant protest of the carpenter had, he feared, a greatdeal of reason, and yet--God's people deserved to hold their position, if, as usual, the argument ended where it began. So he asked, rathertriumphantly:

"What _is_ to be done, then?"

"Reform God's people themselves, " replied the carpenter, to the horrorof the pious old man. "When the right hand of fellowship is reached outto the front, instead of stuck behind the back when a poor man comesalong, there'll be plenty that'll be glad to take it. Reform yer ownpeople, Deac'n. 'Fore yer pick out of our eyes the motes we'll be gladenough to get rid of, ye can get a fine lot of heavy lumber out of yerown. "

Soldiers of the Cross, no more than any other soldiers, should standstill and be peppered when unable to reply; at least so thought theDeacon, and he prudently withdrew. 

Reform God's people themselves! The Deacon was too old a boy to telltales out of school, but he knew well enough there was room for reform. Of course there was--weren't we all poor sinners?--when we would do goodwasn't evil ever present with us?--what business had other sinners tocomplain, when they weren't, at least, any better? Besides, suppose hewere to try to reform the ways of Brother Graves and Deacon Struggs andothers he had in his mind--would they rest until they had attempted toreform _him_? And who was to know just what quantity and quality ofreform was necessary? "Be not carried about with divers and strangedoctrines. " The matter was too great for his comprehension, so he obeyedthe injunction, "Commit thy way unto the Lord. "

But the Lord relegated the entire matter to the Deacon. Hay did a fullday's work, the Deacon made a neat little sum by recovering on an oldjudgment he had bought for a mere song, and the Deacon's red cow made anaddition to the family in the calf-pen; yet the Deacon was far fromcomfortable. The idea that certain people must stay away from God'shouse until God's people were reformed, seemed to the Deacon's reallyhuman heart something terrible. If they _would_ be so proud--and yet, people who would stand outside the meeting-house and listen, and prayand weep because their children were as badly off as they, couldscarcely be very proud. He knew there couldn't be many such, else thisout-of-door congregation would be noticed--there certainly wasn't a fullcongregation of modest mechanics in the vestibule of which Hay spoke, and yet, who could tell how many more were anxious and troubled on thesubject of their eternal welfare. 

What a pity it was that those working-men who wished to repair to thesanctuary could not have steady work and full pay! If he had only knownall this early in the morning, he did not know but he might have hiredhim at three dollars; though, really, was a man to blame for doing hisbest in the labor market? "Ye cannot serve God and mammon. " Gracious! hecould almost declare he heard the excited carpenter's voice deliveringthat text. What _had_ brought that text into his head just now?--he hadnever thought of it before. 

The Deacon rolled and tossed on his bed, and the subject of hisconversation with the carpenter tormented him so he could not sleep. Ofone thing he was certain, and that was that the reform of the Church atPawkin Centre was not to be relied on in an extremity, and was not suchhungering and thirsting after righteousness an extreme case?--had heever really known many such! If Hay only had means, the problem wouldafford its own solution. The good Deacon solemnly declared to himselfthat if Hay could give good security, he (the Deacon) would try to lendhim the money. 

But even this (to the Deacon) extraordinary concession was unproductiveof sleep. "He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord. " There! hecould hear that indignant carpenter again. What an unsatisfactorypassage that was, to be sure! If it would only read the other way--itdidn't seem a bit business-like the way it stood. And yet, as the Deaconquestioned himself there in the dark, he was forced to admit that he hada very small balance--even of loans--to his credit in the hands of theLord. He had never lent to the Lord except in his usual businessmanner--as small a loan as would be accepted, on as extensivecollaterals as he could exact. Oh, why did people ever forsake thesimple raiment of their forefathers, and robe themselves in garmentsgrievous in price, and stumbling-blocks in the path of their fellow-men?

But sleep failed even to follow this pious reflection. Suppose--onlysuppose, of course--that he were to give--lend, that is--lend Hay moneyenough to dress his family fit for church--think what a terrible lot ofmoney it would take! A common neat suit for a man would cost at leastthirty dollars, an overcoat nearly twice as much; a suit cloak, andother necessities for his wife would amount to as much more, and thechildren--oh, the thing couldn't be done for less than two hundred andfifty dollars. Of course, it was entirely out of the question--he hadonly wondered what it _would_ cost--that was all. 

Still no sleep. He wished he hadn't spoken with Hay about his soul--nexttime he would mind his own business. He wished he hadn't employed Hay. He wished the meeting for consideration of the needs of the impenitenthad never taken place. "No man can come to me except the Father whichsent me draw him"--he wished he had remembered that passage, and quotedit at the meeting--it was no light matter to interfere with theAlmighty's plans. 

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. " Hah! _Could_that carpenter be in the room, disarranging his train of thought withsuch--such--tantalizing texts! They had kept him awake, and at his timeof life a restless night was a serious matter. Suppose--

Very early the next morning the village doctor, returning from apatient's bedside, met the Deacon with a face which suggested to him(the doctor was pious and imaginative) "Abraham on Mount Moriah. " Thevillage butcher, more practical, hailed the good man, and informed himhe was in time for a fine steak, but the Deacon shook his head in agony, and passed on. He neared the carpenter's house, stopped, tottered, andlooked over his shoulder as if intending to run; at length he made hisway behind the house, where Hay was chopping firewood. The carpenter sawhim and turned pale--he feared the Deacon had found cheaper labor, andhad come to give him warning. 

"George, " said the Deacon, "I've been doin' a heap of thinkin' 'boutwhat we talked of yesterday. I've come to say that if you like I'll lendyou three hundred dollars fur as long as ye'v a mind to, without note, security or int'rest; you to spend as much of it ez ye need to dress youan' yer hull fam'ly in Sunday clothes, and to put the balance in theSavin's Bank, at interest, to go on doin' the same with when necessary. An' all of ye to go to church when ye feel so disposed. An' ef nobodyelse's pew-door opens, yer allus welcome to mine. And may the Lord" theDeacon finished the sentence to himself--"have mercy on my soul. " Thenhe said, aloud:

"That's all. "

The carpenter, at the beginning of the Deacon's speech, had dropped hisaxe, to the imminent danger of one of his feet. As the Deaconcontinued, the carpenter dropped his head to one side, raised oneeye-brow inquiringly, and awaited the conditions. But when the Deaconsaid "That's all, " George Hay seized the Deacon's hard old hand, gave ita grasp which brought agonized tears to the eyes of its venerable owner, and exclaimed:

"Deacon, God's people are reformin'!"

The Deacon staggered a little--he had not thought of it in that lightbefore. 

"Deacon, that money'll do more good than all the prayin' ye ever done. 'Xcuse me--I must tell Mary, " and the carpenter dashed into the house. Had Mrs. Hay respected the dramatic proprieties, she would have made theDeacon a neat speech; but the truth is, she regarded him from behind thewindow-blind, and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron; seeingwhich the Deacon abruptly started for home, making less use of his canethan he had done in any day for years. 

It is grievous to relate, but truth is mighty--that within a fortnightthe good Deacon repented of his generous action at least fifty times. Hewould die in the poor-house if he were so extravagant again. Threehundred dollars was more than the cow-shed--lumber, shingles, nails, labor and all--would cost. Suppose Hay should take the money and goWest? Suppose he should take to drinking, and spend it all for liquor!One suspicion after another tortured the poor man until he grew thin andnervous. But on the second Sunday, having satisfied himself that Hay wasin town, sober, the day before, that he had been to the city and broughtback bundles, and that he (the Deacon) had seldom been in the streetwithout meeting one of Hay's children with a paper of hooks and eyes ora spool of thread, the Deacon stationed himself in one of his own frontwindows, and brought his spectacles to bear on Hay's door, a littledistance off. The first bell had rung, apparently, hours before, yet noone appeared--could it be that he had basely sneaked to the city atnight and pawned everything? No--the door opened--there they came. Itcouldn't be--yes, it was--well, he never imagined Hay and his wife wereso fine a-looking couple. They came nearer, and the Deacon, forgettinghis cane, hobbled hurriedly to church, entered his pew, and left thedoor wide open. He waited long, it seemed to him, but they did not come. He looked around impatiently, and there, O, joy and wonder!--thepresident of the Pawkin Savings' Institution had invited the wholefamily into his pew! Just then the congregation rose to sing the hymncommencing:

 "From all that dwell below the skies Let the Creator's praise arise";

and the Deacon, in his excitement, distanced the choir, and the organ, and the congregation, and almost brought the entire musical service to astandstill. 

The Deacon had intended to watch closely for Hays' conversion, butsomething wonderful prevented--it was reported everywhere that theDeacon himself had been converted, and all who now saw the Deacon fullybelieved the report. He was even heard to say that as there seemed to besome doubt as to whether faith or works was the saving virtue, heintended thereafter to practice both. He no longer mentions thepoor-house as his prospective dwelling, but is heard to say that in hisFather's house there are many mansions, and that he is laying up histreasure in heaven as fast as possible, and hopes he may get it all onthe way there before his heart is called for. At the post-office, thetin-shop and the rum-shop the Deacon's conversion is constantlydiscussed, and men of all degrees now express a belief in the mightypower of the Spirit from on high. Other moneyed men have been smittenand changed, and the pastor of the Pawkin Centre Church daily thanks theLord for such a revival as he never heard of before. 

JOE GATTER'S LIFE INSURANCE. 

Good? He was the model boy of Bungfield. While his idle school-mateswere flying kites and playing marbles, the prudent Joseph was tradingSunday-school tickets for strawberries and eggs, which he converted intocurrency of the republic. As he grew up, and his old school-matespurchased cravats and hair-oil at Squire Tackey's store, it was theindustrious Joseph who stood behind the counter, wrapped up theirpurchases, and took their money. When the same boys stood on thestreet-corners and cast sheep's eyes at the girls, the business-likeJoseph stood in the store-door and contemplated these same boys witheyes such as a hungry cat casts upon a brood of young birds who heexpects to eat when they grow older. Joe never wasted any time atparties; he never wore fine clothing; he never drank nor smoked; inshort, Joe was so industrious that by the time he reached his majorityhe had a thousand dollars in the bank, and not a solitary virtue in hisheart. 

For Joe's money good Squire Tackey had an earnest longing, and soon hadit to his own credit; while the sign over the store-door read "Tackey &Gatter. " Then the Squire wanted Joe's soul, too, and so earnest was hethat Joe soon found it necessary to remonstrate with his partner. 

"'Twont do, Squire, " said he; "religion's all very well in its place, but when a man loses the sale of a dozen eggs, profit seven cents, because his partner is talking religion with him so hard that a customergets tired of waiting and goes somewhere else, then religion's out ofplace. "

"The human soul's of more cons'kence than many eggs, Joseph, " arguedthe Squire. 

"That's just it, " replied Joe; "money don't hit the value of the soulany way, and there's no use trying to mix 'em. And while we're talking, don't you think we might be mixing some of the settlings of the molassesbarrel with the brown sugar?--'twill make it weigh better. "

The Squire sighed, but he could not help admitting that Joe was as gooda partner as a man could want. 

In one of Joe's leisure moments it struck him that if he were to die, nobody would lose a cent by the operation. The idea was tooexasperating, and soon the local agents of noted insurance companiesceased to enjoy that tranquility which is characteristic of business menin the country. Within a fortnight two of the agents were arraignedbefore their respective churches for profane brawling, while Joe hadsqueezed certain agents into dividing commissions to the lowest unit ofdivisibility, and had several policies in the safe at the store. 

The Squire, his partner, was agent for the Pantagonian Mutual, andendured his full share of the general agony Joe had caused. But when hehad handed Joe a policy and receipt, and taken the money, and counted ittwice, and seen to it carefully that all the bills were good, the goodSquire took his revenge. 

"Joseph, " said he, "you ain't through with insurance yet--you need toinsure your soul against risk in the next world, and there's only oneAgent that does it. "

The junior partner stretched himself on the counter and groaned. He knewthe Squire was right--he had heard that same story from every ministerhe had ever heard. Joe was so agitated that he charged at twelve and ahalf cents some calico he had sold at fifteen. 

Only one Agent! But the shrewd Joseph rejoiced to think that those whorepresented the Great Agent differed greatly in the conditions of theinsurance, and that some made more favorable terms than others, and thatif he could get the ministers thoroughly interested in him, he wouldhave a good opportunity for comparing rates. The good men all wantedJoe, for he was a rising young man, and could, if the Spirit moved him, make handsome subscriptions to good purposes. So, in their zeal, theysoon regarded each other with jealous eyes, and reduced their respectivecreeds to gossamer thinness. They agreed about grace being free, and Joeaccepted that much promptly, as he did _anything_ which could be hadwithout price. But Joe was a practical man, and though he found faultwith none of the doctrines talked at him, he yet hesitated to attachhimself to any particular congregation. He finally ascertained that theReverend Barzillai Driftwood's church had no debt, and that itscontributions to missions and other religious purposes were very small, so Joe allowed himself to be gathered into the fine assortment ofcrooked sticks which the Reverend Barzillai Driftwood was reserving untothe day of burning. 

Great was the rejoicing of the congregation at Joe's saving act, andsincere was the sorrow of the other churches, who knew their own creedswere less shaky. But in the saloon and on the street Joe's religious actwas discussed exclusively on its merits, and the results were such asonly special spiritual labor would remove. For no special change wasnoticeable in Joe; on Sunday he abjured the world, but on Monday he madethings uncomfortable for the Widow Macnilty, whose husband had died inthe debt of Tackey & Gatter. A customer bought some gingham, on Joe'sassurance that the colors were fast, but the first washday failed toconfirm Joe's statement. The proprietor of the stage line betweenBungfield and Cleopas Valley traded horses with Joe, and was afterwardheard mentioning his new property in language far more scriptural thanproper. 

Still, Joe was a church-member, and that was a patent of respectability. And as he gained years, and building lots, and horses, and commenceddiscounting notes, his respectability grew and waxed great in the mindsof the practical people of Bungfield. Even good women, real mothers inIsrael, could not help thinking, as they sorrowed over the sand in thebottoms of their coffee-cups, and grew wrathful at "runney" flour boughtfor "A 1 Superfine" of Tackey & Gatter, that Joe would make a valuablehusband. So thought some of the ladies of Bungfield, and as young ladieswho can endure the idea of such a man for perpetual partner can alsosignify their opinions, Joe began to comprehend that he was in activedemand. He regarded the matter as he would a sudden demand for anycommodity of trade, and by skillfully manipulating the market he wassoon enabled to choose from a full supply. 

Thenceforward Joe was as happy as a man of his nature could be. All hisinvestments were paying well: the store was prosperous, he wassuccessful in all his trading enterprises, he had purchased, at fearfulshaves, scores of perfectly good notes, he realized on loans interestwhich would cause a usury law to shrivel and crack, his insurancepolicies brought him fair dividends, and his wife kept house witheconomy and thrift. But the church--the church seemed an unmitigateddrag. Joe attended all the church meetings--determined to get the worthof the money he was compelled to contribute to the current expenses--hehad himself appointed treasurer, so he could get the use of the churchmoney; but the interest, even at the rates Joe generally obtained, didnot balance the amount of his contribution. 

Joe worried over the matter until he became very peevish, yet he came nonearer a business-like adjustment of receipts and expenditures. One daywhen his venerable partner presented him a certificate of dividend fromthe Pantagonian Mutual, Joe remarked:

"Never got any dividends on that other insurance you put me up totaking, partner--that 'gainst fire risks in the next world, you know. 'Twill be tough if there's any mistake--church does take a sight ofmoney. "

"Joseph, " said the Squire, in a sorrowful tone, "I've always been afeardthey didn't look enough into your evidences when they took you intothat church. How can a man expect to escape on the day of wrath if he'sall the time grumbling at the cost of his salvation? Mistake? If youdon't know in your heart the truth of what you profess, there's mightylittle hope for you, church or no church. "

[Illustration: JOE AND HIS VENERABLE PARTNER TALKING OVER INSURANCEMATTERS. ]

"Know in my heart!" cried Joe. "That's a pretty kind of security. Isthat what I've been paying church dues for? Better have known it in myheart in the first place, and saved the money. What's the use ofbelieving all these knotty points, if they don't make a sure thing for aman?"

"If your belief don't make you any better or happier, Joseph, " rejoinedthe Squire, "you'd better look again and see if you've got a good holdof it; those that's got a clear title don't find their investment asslow in making returns, while those that find fault are generally theones that's made a mistake. "

Poor Joe! He thought he had settled this whole matter; but now, if hispartner was right, he was worse off than if he hadn't begun. He believedin justification by faith; now, wasn't his faith strong--first class, hemight say? To be sure of being safe, hadn't he believed everything that_all_ the ministers had insisted upon as essential? And what _was_faith, if it wasn't believing? He would ask his partner; the old man hadgot him into this scrape--now he must see him through. 

"Squire, " said he, "isn't faith the same thing as believing?"

"Well, " said the Squire, adjusting his glasses, and taking from the deskthe little Testament upon which he administered oaths, "that depends onhow you believe. Here's a verse on the subject: 'Thou believest in God;thou doest well; the devils also believe, and tremble. '"

Ugh! Joe shivered. He wasn't an aristocrat, but would one fancy suchcompanionship as the Squire referred to?

"Here, " said the Squire, turning the leaves, "is another passage bearin'on the subject. 'O, generation of vipers, who hath warned you to fleefrom the wrath to come? Bring forth, therefore, _fruits_ meet forrepentance. '"

Vipers! Joe uncomfortably wondered who else the Squire was going tointroduce into the brotherhood of the faith. 

"Now, see what it says in another place, " continued the Squire, "Notevery one that saith unto Me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom ofheaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. "

"Yes, " said Joe, grateful for hearing of no more horrible believers, "but what _is_ his will but believing on him? Don't the Bible say thatthey that believe shall be saved?"

"Joseph, " said the Squire, "when you believed in my store, you put inyour time and money there. When you believed in hoss-tradin' you devotedyourself to practicing it. When you believed life insurance was a goodthing, you took out policies and paid for them, though you _have_complained of the Patagonian dividends. Now, if you do believe in God, what have you done to prove it?"

"I've paid over a hundred dollars a year church dues, " said Joe, wrathfully, "not counting subscriptions to a bell and a new organ. "

"That wasn't for God, Joseph, " said the Squire; "'twas all for you. Godnever'll thank you for running an asylum for paupers fit to work. You'llfind in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew a description of thosethat's going into the kingdom of heaven--they're the people that givefood and clothing to the needy, and that visit the sick and prisoners, while those that don't do these things _don't_ go in, to put it mildly. He don't say a word about belief there, Joseph; for He knows that givingaway property don't happen till a man's belief is pretty strong. "

Joe felt troubled. Could it really be that his eternal insurance wasgoing to cost more money? Joe thought enviously of Colonel Bung, President of the Bungfield Railroad Co. --the Colonel didn't believe inanything; so he saved all his money, and Joe wished he had some of theColonel's courage. 

Joe's meditations were interrupted by the entrance of Sam Ottrey, a poorfellow who owed Joe some money. Joe had lent Sam a hundred dollars, discounted ten per cent, for ninety days, and secured by a chattelmortgage on Sam's horse and wagon. But Sam had been sick during most ofthe ninety days, and when he went to Joe to beg a few days of grace, that exemplary business man insisted upon immediate payment. 

It was easy to see by Sam's hopeless eye and strained features that hehad not come to pay--he was staring ruin in the face, and felt asuncomfortable as if the amount were millions instead of a horse andwagon, his only means of support. As for Joe, he had got that hundreddollars and horse and wagon mixed up in the oddest way with what he andhis partner had been talking about. It was utterly unbusiness-like--heknew it--he tried to make business business, and religion religion, but, try as he might, he could not succeed. Joe thought briskly; hedetermined to try an experiment. 

"Sam, " said he, "got the money?"

"No, " Sam replied; "luck's agin me--I've got to stand it, I suppose. "

"Sam, " said Joe, "I'll give you all the time you need, at legalinterest. "

Sam was not such a young man as sentimental people would select to trygood deeds upon. But he was human, and loved his wife and children, andthe sudden relief he felt caused him to look at Joe in a manner whichmade Joe find a couple of entire strangers in his own eyes. He hurriedinto the little office, and when his partner looked up inquiringly, Joereplied:

"I've got a dividend, Squire--one of those we were talking about. "

"How's that?" asked the old man, while Joe commenced writing rapidly. 

"I'll show you, " said Joe, handing the Squire the paper on which he hasjust put in writing his promise to Sam. 

"Joseph, " said the Squire, after reading the paper several times, toassure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, "it beats the widow'smites; she gave the Lord all she had, but you've given Him more than youever had in all your life until to-day. "

Joe handed Sam the paper, and it was to the teamster the strongestevidence of Christianity he had ever seen in Bungfield. He had known ofsome hard cases turning from the saloon and joining the church, but noneof these things were so wonderful as this action of Joe Gatter's. Samtold the story, in strict confidence, to each of his friends, and thegood seed was thus sown in soil that it had never reached before. 

It would be pleasant to relate that Joe forthwith ceased shaving notesand selling antiquated grease for butter, and that he devoted the restof his days and money to good deeds, but it wouldn't be true. Those ofour readers who have always consistently acted according to their ownlight and knowledge are, of course, entitled to throw stones at JoeGatter; but most of us know to our sorrow why he didn't always actaccording to the good promptings he received. Our only remaining duty isto say that when, thereafter, Joe's dividends came seldom, he knew whoto blame. 

THE TEMPERANCE MEETING AT BACKLEY. 

Loud and long rang the single church-bell at Backley, but its industrywas entirely unnecessary, for the single church at Backley was alreadyfull from the altar to the doors, and the window-sills and altar-stepswere crowded with children. The Backleyites had been before to theregular yearly temperance meetings, and knew too well the relativemerits of sitting and standing to wait until called by the bell. Ofcourse no one could afford to be absent, for entertainments wereentirely infrequent at Backley; the populace was too small to support acourse of lectures, and too moral to give any encouragement to circusesand minstrel troupes, but a temperance meeting was both moral and cheap, and the children might all be taken without extra cost. 

For months all the young men and maidens at Backley had been practisingthe choruses of the songs which the Temperance Glee Club at aneighboring town was to sing at the meeting. For weeks had largeposters, printed in the reddest of ink, announced to the surroundingcountry that the parent society would send to Backley, for this especialoccasion, one of its most brilliant orators, and although the pastormade the statement (in the smallest possible type) that at the close ofthe entertainment a collection would be taken to defray expenses of thelecturer, the sorrowing ones took comfort in the fact that certainfractional currency represented but a small amount of money. The bellceased ringing, and the crowd at the door attempted to squeeze into theaisles; the Backley Cornet Quartette played a stirring air; Squire Breetcalled the meeting to order, and was himself elected permanent Chairman;the Reverend Mr. Genial prayed earnestly that intemperance might ceaseto reign; the Glee Club sang several songs, with rousing choruses; apretended drunkard and a cold water advocate (both pupils of the BackleyHigh School), delivered a dialogue in which the pretended drunkard washandled severely; a tableau of "The Drunkard's Home" was given; and thenthe parent society's brilliant orator took the platform. 

The orator was certainly very well informed, logical and convincing, besides being quite witty. He proved to the satisfaction of all presentthat alcohol was not nutritious; that it awakened a general andunhealthy physical excitement; and that it hardened the tissues of thebrain. He proved by reports of analyses, that adulteration, and withharmful materials, was largely practiced. He quoted from reports ofpolice, prison and almshouse authorities, to prove his statement thatalcohol made most of our criminals. He unrolled a formidable array ofstatistics, and showed how many loaves of bread could be bought with themoney expended in the United States for intoxicating liquors; how manycomfortable houses the same money would build; how many schools it wouldsupport; and how soon it would pay the National Debt. 

Then he drew a moving picture of the sorrow of the drunkard's family andthe awfulness of the drunkard's death, and sat down amid a perfectthunder of applause. 

The faithful beamed upon each other with glowing and expressivecountenances; the Cornet Quartette played "Don't you go, Tommy"; thesmallest young lady sang "Father, dear father, come Home with me Now";and then Squire Breet, the Chairman, announced that the meeting was openfor remarks. 

A derisive laugh from some of the half-grown boys, and a titter fromsome of the misses, attracted the attention of the audience, andlooking round they saw Joe Digg standing up in a pew near the door. 

"Put him out!" "It's a shame!" "Disgraceful!" were some of the crieswhich were heard in the room. 

"Mr. Digg is a citizen of Backley, " said the Chairman, rappingvigorously to call the audience to order, "and though not a member ofthe Association, he is entitled to a hearing. "

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman, " said Joe Digg, when quiet was restored; "yourwords are the first respectful ones I've ever heard in Backley, an' I doassure you I appreciate 'em. But I want the audience to understand Iain't drunk--I haven't had a cent for two days, an' nobody's treatedme. "

By this time the audience was very quiet, but in a delicious fever ofexcitement. A drunkard speaking right out in a temperance meeting!--theyhad never heard of such a thing in their lives. Verily, Backley wasgoing to add one to the roll of modest villages made famous by unusualoccurrences. 

"I 'spose, Mr. Chairman, " continued Joe Digg, "that the pint oftemp'rance meetin's is to stop drunkenness, an' as I'm about the onlyfully developed drunkard in town, I'm most likely to know what thismeetin's 'mounted to. "

Squire Breet inclined his head slightly, as if to admit the correctnessof Joe Digg's position. 

"I believe ev'ry word the gentleman has said, " continued the drunkard, "and"--here he paused long enough to let an excitable member exclaim"Bless the Lord!" and burst into tears--"and he could have put it all agood deal stronger without stretchin' the truth. An' the sorrer of adrunkard's home can be talked about 'till the Dictionary runs dry, an'then ye don't know nothin' 'bout it. But hain't none of ye ever laughed'bout lockin' the stable door after the hoss is stolen? That's just whatthis temp'rance meetin' an' all the others comes to. "

A general and rather indignant murmur of dissent ran through theaudience. 

"Ye don't believe it, " continued Joe Digg, "but I've been a drunkard, an' I'm one yet, an' ye all got sense enough to understan' that I ort toknow best about it. "

"Will the gentleman have the kindness to explain?" asked the lecturer. 

"I'm a comin' to it, sir, ef my head'll see me through, " replied thedrunkard. "You folks all b'leeve that its lovin' liquor that makes mendrink it; now, 'taint no sech thing. I never had a chance to taste fancydrinks, but I know that every kind of liquor _I_ ever got hold of wasmore like medicine than anything nice. "

"Then what _do_ they drink for?" demanded the excitable member. 

"I'll tell you, " said Joe, "if you'll have a little patience. I have todo it in my own way, for I ain't used to public speakin'. You all knowwho I am. My father was a church-member, an' so was mother. Father doneday's work, fur a dollar'n a quarter a day. How much firewood an'clothes an' food d'ye suppose that money could pay for? We had to eatwhat come cheapest, an' when some of the women here wuz a sittin'comfortable o' nights, a knittin' an' sewin' an' readin', mother wuzhangin' aroun' the butchershop, tryin' to beat the butcher down on thescraps that wasn't good enough for you folks. Soon as we young 'uns wasbig enough to do anything we wuz put to work. I've worked for men inthis room twelve an' fourteen hours a day. I don't blame 'em--theydidn't mean nothin' out of the way--they worked just as long 'emselves, an' so did their boys. But they allers had somethin' inside to keep 'emup, an' I didn't. Does anybody wonder that when I harvested with somemen that kep' liquor in the field, an' found how it helped me along, that I took it, an' thought 'twas a reg'lar God's-blessin'? An' when Ifoun' 'twas a-hurtin' me, how was I to go to work an' giv' it up, whenit stood me instead of the eatables I didn't have, an' never had, neither?"

"You should hev prayed, " cried old Deacon Towser, springing to his feet;"prayed long an' earnest. "

[Illustration: THE TEMPERANCE MEETING. ]

"Deacon, " said Joe Digg, "I've heerd of your dyspepsy for nigh on totwenty year; did prayin' ever comfort _your_ stomach?"

The whole audience indulged in a profane laugh, and the good deacon wassuddenly hauled down by his wife. The drunkard continued:

"There's lots of jest sech folks, here in Backley, an' ev'ry where'selse--people that don't get half fed, an' do get worked half to death. Nobody _means_ to 'buse 'em, but they do hev a hard time of it, an'whisky's the best friend they've got. "

"I work my men from sunrise to sunset in summer, myself, " said DeaconTowser, jumping up again, "an' I'm the first man in the field, an' thelast man to quit. But I don't drink no liquor, an' my boys don't, neither. "

"But ye don't start in the mornin' with hungry little faces a hauntin'ye--ye don't take the dry crusts to the field for yer own dinner, an'leave the meat an' butter at home for the wife an' young 'uns. An' ye gohome without bein' afeard to see a half-fed wife draggin' herself aroun'among a lot of puny young 'uns that don't know what's the matter with'em. Jesus Christ hissef broke down when it come to the cross, deac'n, an' poor human bein's sometimes reaches a pint where they can't stan' nomore, an' when its wife an' children that brings it on, it gits a manawful. "

"The gentleman is right, I have no doubt, " said the Chairman, "so far asa limited class is concerned, but of course no such line of argumentapplies to the majority of cases. There are plenty of well-fed, healthy, and lazy young men hanging about the tavern in this very village. "

"I know it, " said Joe Digg, "an' I want to talk about them too. I don'twan't to take up all the time of this meetin', but you'll all 'low Iknow more 'bout that tavern than any body else does. Ther' is lots ofyoung men a hanging aroun' it, an' why--'cos it's made pleasant for 'em, an' it's the only place in town that is. I've been a faithful attendantat that tavern for nigh onto twenty year, an' I never knowed a hanger-onthere that had a comfortable home of his own. Some of them that don'thev to go to bed hungry hev scoldin' or squabblin' parents, an' theycan't go a visitin' an' hear fine music, an' see nice things of everysort to take their minds off, as some young men in this meetin' housecan. But the tavern is allus comfortable, an' ther's generally somebodyto sing a song and tell a joke, an' they commence goin' ther' more fur apleasant time than for a drink, at fust. Ther's lots of likely boysgoin' there that I wish to God 'd stay away, an' I've often felt liketellin' 'em so, but what's the use? Where are they to go to?"

"They ort to flee from even the appearance of evil, " said Deacon Towser. 

"But where be they to flee _to_, Deac'n?" persisted Joe Digg; "would youlike 'em to come a visitin' to your house?"

"They can come to the church meetings, " replied the Deacon; "there's twoin the week, besides Sundays, an' some of 'em's precious seasons--_all_of 'em's an improvement on the wicked tavern. "

"'Ligion don't taste no better'n whiskey, tell you get used to it, " saidthe drunkard, horrifying all the orthodox people at Backley, "an' taintmade half so invitin'. 'Taint long ago I heerd ye tellin' another deaconthat the church-members ort to be 'shamed of 'emselves, 'cos sca'celyany of 'em come to the week-evenin' meetin's, so ye can't blame the boysat the tavern. "

"Does the gentleman mean to convey the idea that all drunkards become sofrom justifying causes?" asked the lecturer. 

"No, sir, " replied Joe Digg, "but I do mean to say that after you leaveout them that takes liquor to help 'em do a full day's work, an' themthat commence drinkin' 'cos they re at the tavern, an' ain't got nowhere's else to go, you've made a mighty big hole in the crowd ofdrinkin'-men--bigger'n temperance meetins' ever begin to make yit"

"But how are they to be 'left out'?" asked the lecturer. 

"By temp'rance folks doin' somethin' beside talkin', " replied thedrunkard. "For twenty year I've been lectured and scolded, an' some goodmen's come to me with tears in their eyes, and put their arms 'roun' myneck, an' begged me to stop drinkin'. An' I've wanted to, an' tried to, but when all the encouragement a man gits is in words, an' no matter howhe commenced drinkin', now ev'ry bone an' muscle in him is a beggin' furdrink ez soon as he leaves off, an' his mind's dull, an' he ain't fitfur much, an' needs takin' care of as p'tic'ler ez a mighty sick man, talk's jist as good ez wasted. Ther's been times when ef I'd been aheadon flour an' meat an' sich, I could a' stopped drinkin', but when aman's hungry, an' ragged, an' weak, and half-crazy, knowin' how hisfamily's fixed an he can't do nothin' fur 'em, an' then don't getnothin' but words to reform on, he'll go back to the tavern ev'ry time, an' he'll drink till he's comfortable an' till he forgits. I want thepeople here, one an' all, to understand that though I'm past helpin'now, ther's been fifty times in the last twenty year when I might hedbeen stopped short, ef any body'd been sensible enough and good-heartedenough to give me a lift. "

Joe Digg sat down, and there was a long pause. The Chairman whispered tothe leader of the Glee Club, and the club sang a song, but somehow itfailed to awaken the usual enthusiasm. After the singing had ended, theChairman himself took the floor and moved the appointment of a permanentcommittee to look after the intemperate, and to collect funds when theuse of money seemed necessary, and the village doctor created asensation by moving that Mr. Joe Digg should be a member of thecommittee. Deacon Towser, who was the richest man in the village, andwho dreaded subscription papers, started an insidious opposition byeloquently vaunting the value of earnest prayer and of determined will, in such cases, but the new member of the committee (though manifestlyout of order) outmanoeuvred the Deacon by accepting both amendments, and remarking that in a hard fight folks would take all the help theycould get. 

Somehow, as soon as the new committee--determining to open a place ofentertainment in opposition to the tavern, and furnish it pleasantly, and make it an attractive gathering-place for young men--asked forcontributions to enable them to do it, the temperance excitement atBackley abated marvelously. But Squire Breet, and the doctor, andseveral other enterprising men, took the entire burden on their ownshoulders--or pockets--and Joe Digg was as useful as a reformed thief toa police department. For the doctor, whose professional education hadleft him a large portion of his natural common-sense in working order, took a practical interest in the old drunkard's case, and others of thecommittee looked to the necessities of his family, and it came to passthat Joe was one of the earliest of the reformers. Men still go to thetavern at Backley, but as, even when the twelve spake with inspiredtongues, some people remained impenitent, the temperance men at Backleyfeel that they have great cause for encouragement, and that they have, at least, accomplished more within a few months than did all thetemperance meetings ever held in their village. 

JUDE. 

Gopher Hill had determined that it could not endure Jude any longer. 

The inhabitants of Gopher Hill possessed an unusual amount of kindnessand long-suffering, as was proved by the fact that Chinamen were allowedto work all abandoned claims at the Hill. Had further proof beennecessary, it would have been afforded by the existence of a churchdirectly beside the saloon, although the frequenters of the sacrededifice had often, during week-evening meetings, annoyed convivial soulsin the saloon by requesting them to be less noisy. 

But Jude was too much for Gopher Hill. No one molested him when he firstappeared, but each citizen entered a mental protest within his ownindividual consciousness; for Jude had a bad reputation in most of thesettlements along Spanish Creek. 

It was not that he had killed his man, and stolen several horses andmules, and got himself into a state of most disorderly inebriation, for, in the opinion of many Gopher Hillites, these actions _might_ have beenthe visible results of certain virtuous conditions of mind. 

But Jude had, after killing a man, spent the victim's money; he hadstolen from men who had befriended him; he had jumped claims; he haddenied his score at the storekeeper's; he had lied on all possibleoccasions; and had gambled away money which had been confided to him intrust. 

One mining camp after another had become too hot for him; but he neveradopted a new set of principles when he staked a new claim, so his stayin new localities was never of sufficient length to establish the factof legal residence. His name seemed to be a respectable cognomen ofScriptural extraction, but it was really a contraction of a name which, while equally Scriptural and far more famous, was decidedlyunpopular--the name of Judas Iscariot. 

The whole name had been originally bestowed upon Jude, in recognition ofhis success in swindling a mining partner; but, with an acuteness ofperception worthy of emulation, the miners determined that the length ofthe appellation detracted from its force, so they shortened it to Jude. 

As a few of the more enterprising citizens of Gopher Hill were onemorning discussing the desirableness of getting rid of Jude, andwondering how best to effect such a result, they received importantforeign aid. 

A man rode up to the saloon, dismounted, and tacked on the wall a posteroffering one thousand dollars reward for the apprehension of a certainperson who had committed an atrocious murder a month before at Duck Run. 

The names and _aliases_ of the guilty person were unfamiliar to thosewho gathered about the poster, but the description of the murderer'sappearance was so suggestive, that Squire Bogern, one of the bystanders, found Jude, and requested him to read the poster. 

"Well, 'twasn't _me_ done it, " sulkily growled the namesake of theapostolic treasurer. 

"Ther' hain't nobody in Gopher that 'ud take a feller up fur a reward, "replied the squire, studiously oblivious of Jude's denial; "but it's anice mornin' fur a walk. Ye can't miss the trail an' git lost, ye know. An', seein' yer hevn't staked any claim, an' so hain't got any todispose of, mebbe yer could git, inside of five minutes. "

Jude was accustomed to "notices to quit, " and was able to extract theirimport from any verbiage whatever, so he drank by and to himself, andimmediately sauntered out of town, with an air of bravado in hiscarriage, and a very lonesome look in his face. 

Down the trail he tramped, past claims whose occupants knew him wellenough, but who, just as he passed, found some excuse for looking theother way. 

He passed through one camp after another, and discovered (for he stoppedat each saloon) that the man on horseback had preceded him, and thatthere seemed a wonderful unanimity of opinion as to the identity of theman who was wanted. 

Finally, after passing through several of the small camps, which weredotted along the trail, a mile or two apart, Jude flung himself on theground under a clump of azaleas, with the air of a man whose temper hadbeen somewhat ruffled. 

"I wonder, " he remarked, after a discursive, fitful, but very spicypreface of ten minutes' duration, "why they couldn't find somethin' I_hed_ done, instead of tuckin' some other feller's job on me? I _hev_had difficulties, but this here one's just one more than _I_ knows on. Like 'nuff some galoot'll be mean 'nuff to try to git that thousand. I'dtry it myself, ef I wuz only somebody else. Wonder why I can't bedecent, like other fellers. 'Twon't pay to waste time thinkin' 'boutthat, though, fur I'll hev to make a livin' somehow. "

Jude indulged in a long sigh, perhaps a penitential one, and drew fromhis pocket a well-filled flask, which he had purchased at the lastsaloon he had passed. 

As he extracted it, there came also from his pocket a copy of theposter, which he had abstracted from a tree _en route_. 

"Thar 'tis again!" he exclaimed, angrily. "Can't be satisfied showin'itself ev'rywhar, but must come out of my pocket without bein' axed. Let's see, p'r'aps it don't mean me, after all--'One eye gone, brokennose, scar on right cheek, powder-marks on left, stumpy beard, sallowcomplexion, hangdog look. ' _I'd_ give a thousand ef I had it to git thefeller that writ that; an' yit it means me, an' no dodgin'. Lord, Lord!what 'ud the old woman say ef she wuz to see me nowadays?"

He looked intently at the flask for a moment or two, as if expecting ananswer therefrom, then he extracted the cork, and took a generous drink. But even the liquor failed to help him to a more cheerful view of thesituation, for he continued:

"Nobody knows me--nobody sez, 'Hello!'--nobody axes me to name mybitters--nobody even cusses me. They let me stake a claim, but nobodyoffers to lend me a pick or a shovel, an' nobody ever comes to theshanty to spend the evenin', 'less it's a greenhorn. Curse 'em all! I'llmake some of 'em bleed fur it. I'll git their dust, an' go back East;ther's plenty of folks _thar_ that'll be glad to see me, ef I've got thedust. An' mebbe 'twould comfort the old woman some, after all thetrouble I've made her. Offer rewards fur me, do they? I'll give 'em somereason to do it. I hain't afeard of the hull State of Californy, an'--Good Lord! what's that?"

The gentleman who was not afraid of the whole State of California spranghastily to his feet, turned very pale, and felt for his revolver, for heheard rapid footsteps approaching by a little path in the bushes. 

But though the footsteps seemed to come nearer, and very rapidly, heslowly took his hand from his pistol, and changed his scared look for apuzzled one. 

"Cryin'! Reckon I ain't in danger from anybody that's bellerin'; butit's the fust time I've heerd that kind of a noise in _these_ parts. Must be a woman. Sounds like what I used to hear to home when I got on atear; _'tis_ a woman!"

As he concluded, there emerged from the path a woman, who was neithervery young nor very pretty, but her face was full of pain, and her eyesfull of tears, which signs of sorrow were augmented by a considerablescare, as she suddenly found herself face to face with the unhandsomeJude. 

"Don't be afeard of me, marm, " said Jude, as the woman retreated a stepor two. "I'm durned sorry for yer, whatever's the matter. I've got awife to home, an' it makes me so sorry to hear her cry, that I get blinddrunk ez quick ez I ken. "

This tender statement seemed to reassure the woman, for she lookedinquiringly at Jude, and asked:

"Have ye seen a man and woman go 'long with a young one?

"Nary, " replied Jude. "Young one lost?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the woman, commencing to cry again; "an' a husban', too. I don't care much for _him_, for he's a brute, but Johnny--blessedlittle Johnny--oh, oh!"

And the poor woman sobbed pitifully. 

Jude looked uneasy, and remembering his antidote for domestic tears, extracted the bottle again. He slowly put it back untasted, however, andexclaimed:

"What does he look like, marm?--the husband I mean. I never wanted anexcuse to put a hole through a feller ez bad ez I do this mornin'!"

"Don't--don't hurt him, for God's sake!" cried the woman. "He ain't agood husband--he's run off with another woman, but--but he's Johnny'sfather. Yet, if you could get Johnny back--he's the only comfort I everhad in the world, the dear little fellow--oh, dear me!"

And again she sobbed as if her heart was broken. 

"Tell us 'bout 'em. Whar hev they gone to? what do they luk like? MebbeI ken git him fur yer, " said Jude, looking as if inclined to beat aretreat, or do anything to get away from the sound of the woman'scrying. 

[Illustration: "GET HIM--GET JOHNNY!" CRIED THE WOMAN, FALLING ON HERKNEES, AND SEIZING JUDE'S HAND. ]

"Get him--get Johnny?" cried the woman, falling on her knees, andseizing Jude's hand. "I can't give you anything for doin' it, but I'llpray for you, as long as I've got breath, that God may reward you!"

"I reckon, " said Jude, as he awkwardly disengaged his hand, "thatprayin' is what'll do me more good than anythin' else jest now. Bigfeller is yer husband? An' got any idee whar he is?"

"He _is_ a big man, " replied the woman, "and he goes by the name ofMarksey in these parts; and you'll find him at the Widow Beckel's, across the creek. Kill _her_ if you like--I hope _somebody_ will. ButJohnny--Johnny has got the loveliest brown eyes, and the sweetest mouththat was ever made, and--"

"Reckon I'll judge fur myself, " interrupted Jude, starting off towardthe creek, and followed by the woman. "I know whar Wider Beckel's is, an'--an' I've done enough stealin', I guess, to be able to grab a littleboy without gittin' ketched. Spanish Crick's purty deep along here, an'the current runs heavy, but--"

The remainder of Jude's sentence was left unspoken, for just then hestepped into the creek, and the chill of the snow-fed stream caused himto hold his breath. 

"Remember you aint to hurt _him_!" screamed the woman; "nor her, neither--God forgive me. But bring Johnny--bring Johnny, and God be withyou. "

The woman stood with clasped hands watching Jude until he reached theopposite bank, shook himself, and disappeared, and then she leanedagainst a tree and trembled and cried until she was startled by hearingsome one say:

"Beg pardon, madame, but have you seen any one pass?"

The woman raised her head, and saw a respectable, severe looking man, inclothing rather neater than was common along Spanish Creek. 

"Only one, " she replied, "and he's the best man livin'. He's gone to getJohnny--he won't be gone long. "

"Your husband, ma'am?"

"'Oh, no, sir; I never saw him before. "

"One eye gone; broken nose; scar on right cheek; powder-marks on left--"

"Yes, sir, that's the man, " said the wondering woman. 

"Perhaps you may not have seen this?" said the man handing her one ofthe posters describing Jude. 

Then he uttered a shrill whistle. 

The woman read the paper through, and cried:

"It's somebody else--it _must_ be--no murderer would be so kind to apoor, friendless woman. Oh, God, have I betrayed him? _Don't_ take him, sir--it must be somebody else. I wish I had money--I would pay you morethan the reward, just to go away and let him alone. "

"Madame, " replied the man, beckoning to two men who were approaching, "Icould not accept it; nor will I accept the reward. It is the price ofblood. But I am a minister of the gospel, ma'am, and in this godlessgeneration it is my duty to see that the outraged dignity of the law isvindicated. My associates, I regret to say, are actuated by differentmotives. "

"You just bet high on that!" exclaimed one of the two men who hadapproached, a low-browed, bestial ruffian. "Half a' thousan' 's more'n Icould pan out in a fortnight, no matter how good luck I had. Parson heis a fool, but _we_, hain't no right to grumble 'bout it, seein' we githis share--hey, Parleyvoo?"

"You speak truly, Mike, " replied his companion, a rather handsomelooking Frenchman, of middle age. "And yet Jean Glorieaux likes not thelabor. Were it not that he had lost his last ounce at monte, and had thefever for play still in his blood, not one sou would he earn in suchungentle a manner. "

"God's worst curses on all of you!" cried the woman, with an energywhich inspired her plain face and form with a terrible dignity andpower, "if you lay a hand on a man who is the only friend a poor womanhas ever found in the world!"

Glorieaux shuddered, and Mike receded a step or two: but the ex-ministermaintained the most perfect composure, and exclaimed:

"Poor fools! It is written, 'The curse, causeless, shall not fall. ' Andyet, madame, I assure you that I most tenderly sympathize with you inyour misfortunes, whatever they may be. "

"Then let him alone!" cried the woman. "My only child has been stolenaway from me--dear little Johnny--and the man offered to go get him. Andyou've made me betray him. Oh, God curse you all!"

"Madame, " replied the still imperturbable parson, "the crime ofblood-guiltiness cannot be imputed to you, for you did not know what youwere doing. "

The woman leaned against a tree, and waited until Glorieaux declared tothe parson he would abandon the chase. 

"It is useless, " said he, striking a dramatic attitude, and pointing tothe woman, "for her tears have quenched the fiery fever in the blood ofGlorieaux. "

"Then I'll git the hull thousand, " growled Mike, "an' I'll need it, too, if I've got to stand this sort of thing much longer. "

A confused sound of voices on the other side of the creek attracted theattention of the men, and caused the woman to raise her head. A momentlater Jude appeared, with a child in his arms, and plunged into thewater. 

"Now we'll have him!" cried the parson; "and you, madame, will have yourchild. Be ready to chase him, men, if he attempts to run when he getsashore. "

"Go back! go back!" screamed the woman. "They are after you, these men. Try to--"

The law-abiding parson placed his hand over the woman's mouth, but foundhimself promptly flying backward through space, while Mike roared:

"Touch a woman, will yer? No thousand dollars nor any other money, 'llhire me to travel with such a scoundrel. Catch him yerself, if yer wantter, "

"But if you do, " said Glorieaux, politely, as he drew his revolver, "itwill be necessary for Glorieaux to slay the Lord's anointed. "

"Follered, by thunder!" said Mike. 

It was true. During the few seconds which had been consumed inconversation, Jude got well into the creek. He had not seemed to hearthe woman's warning; but now a greater danger threatened him, for on theopposite bank of the creek there appeared a man, who commenced firing atJude's head and the small portion of his shoulders that was visible. 

"The monster. Oh, the wretch!" screamed the woman. "He may hit Johnny, his only son! Oh, God have mercy on me, and save my child!"

A shot immediately behind her followed the woman's prayer, and Glorieauxexclaimed, pointing to the opposite bank, where Marksey was staggeringand falling:

"Glorieaux gathered from your words that a divorce would be acceptable, madame. Behold, you have it!"

"Pity nobody didn't think of it sooner, " observed Mike, shading his eyesas he stared intently at Jude, "for there's a red streak in the waterright behind him. "

The woman was already standing at the water's edge, with hands claspedin an agony of terror and anxiety. The three men hastened to join her. 

"Wish I could swim, " said Mike, "for he's gettin' weak, an' needs help. "

The parson sprang into the water, and, in spite of the chill and theswift current, he was soon by Jude's side. 

"Take the young un, " gasped Jude, "for I'm a goner. "

"Put your hand on my shoulder, " said the parson. "I can get you bothashore. "

'"Tain't no use, " said Jude, feebly; "corpses don't count for much inCaliforny. "

"But your immortal part, " remonstrated the parson, trying to seize Judeby the hand which held little Johnny. 

"God hev mercy on it!" whispered the dying man; "it's the fust time Heever had an excuse to do it. "

Strong man and expert swimmer as the ex-minister was, he was compelledto relinquish his hold of the wounded man; and Jude, after one or twofitful struggles against his fate, drifted lifeless down the stream andinto eternity, while the widowed mother regained her child. The man ofGod, the chivalrous Frenchman and the brutish Mike slowly returned totheir camp; but no one who met them could imagine, from their looks, that they were either of them anything better than fugitives fromjustice. 

A LOVE OF A COTTAGE. 

We had been married about six months, and were boarding in the mostcomfortable style imaginable, when one evening, after dinner, Sophroniaannounced that her heart was set upon keeping house. _My_ heart sankwithin me; but one of the lessons learned within my half year of marriedlife is, that when Sophronia's heart is set upon anything, the protestsI see fit to make must be uttered only within the secret recesses of myown consciousness. Then Sophronia remarked that she had made up her mindto keep house in the country, at which information my heart sank stilllower. Not that I lack appreciation of natural surroundings. I delightin localities where beautiful scenery exists, and where tired men canrest under trees without even being suspected of inebriety. But when anyof my friends go house-hunting in the city, in the two or three squaremiles which contain all the desirable houses, their search generallyoccupies a month, during which time the searchers grow thin, nervous, absent-minded, and uncompanionable. What, then, would be _my_ fate, after searching the several hundred square miles of territory which werewithin twenty miles of New York. But Sophronia had decided that it wasto be--and I, "Mine not to make reply; Mine not to reason why; Mine but to do or die. "

By a merciful dispensation of Providence, however, I was saved from thefull measure of the fate I feared. Sophronia has a highly imaginativenature; in her a fancy naturally ethereal has been made super-sensitiveby long companionship of tender-voiced poets and romancers. So when Ibought a railway guide and read over the names of stations within areasonable distance of New York, Sophronia's interest was excited inexact proportion to the attractiveness of the names themselves. Communipaw she pronounced execrable. Ewenville reminded her of adreadful psalm tune. Paterson recalled the vulgar question, "Who struckBilly Patterson?" Yonkers sounded Dutch. Morristown had a plebeian air. Rutherford Park--well, that sounded endurable; it reminded her of thescene in Mrs. Somebody's novel. Elizabeth was a dreadfully old-fashionedname. Villa Valley--

"Stop!" exclaimed Sophronia, raising impressively the hand which boreher diamond engagement ring; "that is the place, Pierre. (I waschristened Peter, but _Miss_ Sophronia never looked encouragingly uponme until a friend nicknamed me Pierre. ) I have a presentiment that ourhome will be at Villa Valley. How melodious--how absolutely enchantingit sounds. There is always a lake or a brook in a valley, too, don't youknow?"

I did _not_ previously possess this exact knowledge of the peculiarityof valleys, but I have an accurate knowledge of what my duty isregarding any statement which Sophronia may make, so I promptlyassented. By the rarest good fortune, I found in the morning paper anadvertisement of a real estate agent who made a specialty of VillaValley property. This agent, when visited by me early in the morning, abundantly confirmed Sophronia's intuition regarding brooks and lakes, by asserting that his charming town possessed both, beside many otherattractions, which irresistibly drove us to Villa Valley the next day, with a letter to the agent's resident partner. 

It was a bright April morning when we started in the resident agent'scarriage, to visit a number of houses, the rent of which did not exceedfour hundred dollars. 

"Drive first to the Old Stone Cottage, " said Sophronia; "the very nameis enchanting. "

The house itself did not support Sophronia's impression. It stood verynear the road, was a quarter of a mile from any tree or bush, had threelarge and three small rooms, only one of which could be reached withoutpassing through two others, for the house had no hall. The woodworkwould have apparently greeted paint as a life-long stranger; the doors, in size and clumsiness, reminded me of the gates of Gaza, as pictured inSunday-school books. The agent said it had once been Washington'sheadquarters, and I saw no reason to doubt his word; though I timidlyasked whether tradition asserted that the Father of his Country had notsuffered a twinge of neuralgia while at Villa Valley. 

"A Perfect Snuggery" did not belie its name, but in size and ventilationforcibly suggested a chicken coop. 

"Charming Swiss Cottage" seemed to be a remodeled pig-stye, from whichobjectionable matter had not been removed. "The House in the Woods" wasapproachable only through water half-way up to the carriage body; so weregretfully abandoned pursuit of it. 

"Silver Lake!" exclaimed Sophronia, reading from the memoranda she hadpenciled from the agent's descriptive list. "_That_, I am sure, willsuit us. Don't you remember, Pierre, my presentiment about a lake atVilla Valley?"

I remembered, by a little stretch of my imagination. But, alas! for theuncertainty even of the presentiments of one of Nature's mostimpressible children. The "lake" was a pond, perhaps twenty feet indiameter; an antiquated boot, two or three abandoned milk cans, and adead cat, reposed upon its placid beach; and from a sheltered nook uponits southerly side, an early-aroused frog appeared, inquiringly, anduttered a cry of surprise--or, perhaps, of warning. 

"Take me away?" exclaimed Sophronia, "It was a dream--a fateful dream. "

"New Cottage, with all modern improvements, " seemed really to justifyits title; but Sophronia declined to look farther than its outside. 

"I could never be happy in that house, Pierre, " said she, with emphasis;"it looks to be entirely new. "

"'Tis, ma'am, " declared the agent; "the last coat of paint hasn't beenon a month. "

"So I divined, " replied Sophronia. "And so it is simply a lifeless massof boards and plaster--no loving heartthrobs ever consecrated itswalls--no tender romances have been woven under its eaves--no wistfulyearnings--no agonies of parting have made its chambers instinct withlife--no--"

"I declare!" exclaimed the agent; "excuse me for interrupting, ma'am, but I believe I've got the very house you're looking for. How would youlike a rambling, old family homestead, a hundred years old, with quaint, wide fireplaces, high mantels, overhanging eaves, a heavy screen ofevergreens, vines clambering over everything, a great wide hall--"

"Exquisite--charming--enchanting--paradisaical--divine!" murmuredSophronia. 

"And the rent is only three hundred dollars, " continued the agent. 

This latter bit of information aroused _my_ strongest sentiment, and Ibegged the agent to show us the house at once. 

The approach was certainly delightful. We dashed into the gloom of amass of spruces, pines, and arbor-vitæs, and stopped suddenly in frontof a little, low cottage, which consisted principally of additions, noone of which was after any particular architectural order. Sophroniagazed an instant; her face assumed an ecstatic expression which I hadnot seen since the day of our engagement; she threw her arms about myneck, her head drooped upon my bosom, and she whispered:

"My ideal!"

Then this matchless woman, intuitively realizing that the moment foraction had arrived, reassumed her natural dignity, and, with the air ofMrs. Scott Siddons in "Elizabeth, " exclaimed:

"Enough! We take it!"

"Hadn't you better examine the interior first, my love?" I suggested. 

"Were the interior only that of a barn, " remarked my consistent mate, "my decision would not be affected thereby. The eternal unities arenever disunited, nor are--"

"I don't believe I've got the key with me, " said the agent; "but perhapswe can get in through one of the windows. "

The agent tied his horse and disappeared behind the house. AgainSophronia's arm encircled me, and she murmured:

"Oh, Pierre, what bliss!"

"It's a good way from the station, pet, " I ventured to remark. 

Sophronia's enthusiasm gave place to scorn; she withdrew heraffectionate demonstration, and replied:

"Spoken like a real man! The practical, always--the ideal, never! Once Idreamed of the companionship of a congenial spirit, but, alas! 'A goodway from the station!' Were _I_ a man, I would, to reside in such abower, plod cheerily over miles of prosaic clods. "

"And you'd get your shapely boots most shockingly muddy, " I thought, asthe agent opened one of the front windows and invited us to enter. 

"French windows, too!" exclaimed Sophronia; "oh Pierre! And see thatexquisite old mantel; it looks as if it had been carved from ebony uponthe banks of one of the Queen of the Adriatic's noiseless by-ways. Andthese tiny rooms, how cozy--how like fairy land! Again I declare, wewill take it! Let us return at once to the city--how I loathe thethought of treading its noisy thoroughfares again!--and order ourcarpets and furniture. "

"Are you sure you won't be lonesome here, darling?" I asked. "It isquite a distance from any neighbors. "

"A true woman is never lonesome when she can commune with Nature, "replied Sophronia. "Besides, " she continued, in a less exalted strain, "I shall have Laura Stanley and Stella Sykes with me most of the time. "

The agent drove us back to his office, spending not more than tenminutes on the road; yet the time sufficed Sophronia to give me indetail her idea of the combination of carpets, shades, furniture, pictures, etc. , which would be in harmony with our coming domicile. Suddenly nature reasserted her claims, and Sophronia addressed theagent. 

"Your partner told my husband that there were a lake and two brooks atVilla Valley. I should like to see them. "

"Certainly, ma'am, " replied the agent, promptly; "I'll drive you pastthem as you go to the train. "

Ten minutes later the lease was made out and signed. I was moved tointerrupt the agent with occasional questions, such as, "Isn't the housedamp?" "Any mosquitoes?" "Is the water good and plentiful?" "Does thecellar extend under the whole house?" But the coldly practical nature ofthese queries affected Sophronia's spirits so unpleasantly, that, out ofpure affection, I forebore. Then the agent invited us into his carriageagain, and said he would drive us to the lower depot. 

"Two stations?" I inquired. 

"Yes, " said he; "and one's as near to your house as the other. "

"_Your_ house, " whispered Sophronia, turning her soulful eyes full uponme, and inserting her delicate elbow with unnecessary force between mynot heavily covered ribs--"_your_ house! Oh, Pierre! does not thedignity of having a house appear to you like a beautiful vision?"

"I strove for an instant to frame a reply in keeping with Sophronia'smental condition, when an unpleasant odor saluted my nose. ThatSophronia was conscious of the same disgusting atmospheric feature, Ilearned by the sound of a decided sniff. Looking about us, I saw a largepaper mill beside a stream, whose contents looked sewer-like. 

"Smell the paper-mash boiling?" asked the agent. "Peculiar, isn't it?Very healthy, though, they say. "

On the opposite side of the road trickled a small gutter, full of areddish-brown liquid, its source seeming to be a dye-house behind us. Just then we drove upon a bridge, which crossed a vile pool, upon theshore of which was a rolling-mill. 

"Here's the lake, " said the agent; "Dellwild Lake, they call it. Andhere's the brooks emptying into it, one on each side of the road. "

Sophronia gasped and looked solemn. Her thoughtfulness lasted but amoment, however; then she applied her daintily perfumed handkerchief toher nose and whispered: "Dellwild! Charbig dabe, Pierre, dod't you thigso?"

During the fortnight which followed, Sophronia and I visitedhouse-furnishing stores, carpet dealers, furniture warehouses, picturestores, and _bric-a-brac_ shops. The agent was very kind; he sent a boyto the house with the keys every time the express wished to deliver anyof our goods. Finally, the carpet dealer having reported the carpetslaid, Sophronia, I, and our newly engaged servant, started by rail toVilla Valley, three double-truck loads of furniture preceding us by wayof the turnpike. I had thoughtfully ordered quite a quantity ofprovisions put into the house, in advance of our arrival. Hiring acarriage at the station, and obtaining the keys of the agent, we droveto our residence. Sophronia, to use her own expression, 'felt as sheimagined Juno did, when first installed as mistress of the rosy summitof the divine mount; while I, though scarcely in a mood to comparemyself with Jove, was conscious of a new and delightful sense ofmanliness. The shades and curtains were in the windows, the sun shonewarmly upon them, and a bright welcome seemed to extend itself from thewhole face of the cottage. I unlocked the door and tenderly kissed mydarling under the lintel; then we stepped into the parlor. Sophroniaimmediately exclaimed:

"Gracious!"

The word that escaped _my_ lips, I shrink from placing upon the printedpage. A barrel of flour, one of sugar, another of corned beef, and ahalf-barrel of molasses, a box of candles, a can of kerosene oil, somecases of canned fruits, a box of laundry soap, three wash-tubs, and afirkin of butter--all these, and many other packages, covered the parlorfloor, and sent up a smell suggestive of an unventilated grocery. Theflour had sifted between the staves of the barrel, the molasses haddripped somewhat, the box of soap had broken open and a single bar hadbeen fastened to the carpet by the seal of a boot-heel of heroic size. Sophronia stepped into little pools of molasses, and the effect seemedto be that the carpet rose to bestow sweet clinging kisses upon thedainty feet of the loveliest of her sex. 

"Horrible!" ejaculated Sophronia. 

"And here come the trucks, " said I, looking out of the window, "and theone with the parlor furniture is in front. "

Fortunately, the truckmen were good-tempered and amenable to reason, expressed by means of currency; so we soon had the provisions moved intothe kitchen. Then the senior truckman kindly consented to dispose of anold tarpaulin, at about twice the price of a piece of velvet carpet ofsimilar size, and this we spread upon the parlor floor while thefurniture should be brought in. Sophronia assumed the direction ofproceedings, but it soon became evident that she was troubled. 

"The room, evidently, was not arranged for this furniture, " said she. 

And she spoke truthfully. We had purchased a lounge, a largecentre-table, an _etagere_, a Turkish chair, two reception chairs, four chairs to match the lounge, a rocker or two, an elegant firescreen, and several other articles of furniture, and there was considerabledifficulty experienced, not only in arranging them, but in getting theminto the parlor at all. Finally, the senior truckman spoke:

[Illustration: A BRIGHT WELCOME SEEMED TO EXTEND ITSELF FROM THE WHOLEFACE OF THE COTTAGE. ]

"The only way to git everythin' in, is to fix 'em the way we do at thestore--set 'em close together. "

He spoke truly; and Sophronia, with a sigh, assented to such anarrangement, suggesting that we could rearrange the furniture afterward, and stipulating only that the lounge should be placed in the front ofthe room. This done, there were three-and-a-half feet of space betweenthe front of the lounge and the inside of the window-casings. 

We can, at least, sit upon it and lose our souls in the dying glories ofthe sun upon the eternal hills, and--"Gracious, Pierre, where's thepiano to go?"

Sure enough; and the piano was already at the door. The senior truckmancast his professional eye at the vacant space, and spoke:

"You can put it right there, " said he. "There won't be no room fur thestool to go behind it; but if you put the key-board to the front, an'open the winder, you can stand outdoors an' play. "

Sophronia eyed the senior truckman suspiciously for a moment, but notone of his honest facial muscles moved, so Sophronia exclaimed:

"True. And how romantic!"

While the piano was being placed I became conscious of some shockinglanguage being used on the stairway. Looking out I saw two truckmen andthe headboard of our new bedstead inextricably mixed on the stairs. 

"Why don't you go on?" I asked. 

The look which one of the truckmen gave me I shall not Forget until mydying day; the man's companion remarked that when (qualified) foolsbought furniture for such (doubly qualified) houses, they ought to havebrains enough to get things small enough to get up the (treblyqualified) stairs. 

I could not deny the logic of this statement, impious as were thequalifying adjectives which were used thereupon. But something had to bedone; we could not put the bedstead together upon the stairway and sleepupon it there, even were there not other articles of furnitureimperatively demanding a right of way. 

"Try to get it down again, " said I. 

They tried, and, after one mighty effort, succeeded; they also broughtdown several square yards of ceiling plaster and the entire handrail ofthe stair. 

"Think the ceilings of these rooms is high enough to let that bed standup?" asked the senior truckman. 

I hastily measured the height of the ceilings, and then of the bedstead, and found the latter nearly eighteen inches too high. Then I calledSophronia: the bedstead was of her selection, and was an elegant sampleof fine woods and excessive ornamentation. It was a precious bit offurniture, but time was precious, too. The senior truckman suggestedthat the height of the bedstead might be reduced about two feet by theremoval of the most lofty ornament, and that a healthy man could knockit off with his fist. 

"Let it be done, " said Sophronia. "What matter? A king discrowned isstill a king at heart. "

The senior truckman aimed a deadly blow with a cart-rung, and thebedstead filled its appointed place. The remaining furniture followed asfast as could be expected; we soon gave up the idea of getting it allinto the house; but the woodhouse was spacious and easy of access, so westowed there important portions of three chamber sets, a gem of asideboard, the Turkish chair, which had been ordered for the parlor, andthe hat-rack, which the hall was too small to hold. We also deposited inthe woodhouse all the pictures, in their original packages. 

At length the trucks were emptied; the senior truckman smiled sweetly asI passed a small fee into his hand then he looked thoughtfully at theroof of the cottage, and remarked:

"It's none of my business, I know; but I hate to see nice thingsspiled. I'd watch that roof, ef I was you, the fust time it rained. "

I thanked him; he drove off; I turned and accepted the invitation whichwas presented by Sophronia's outstretched arms. 

"Oh, Pierre!" she exclaimed; "at last we are in our own home! Nouncongenial spirits about us--no one to molest or annoy--nounsympathetic souls to stifle our ardent passion for Nature and the workof her free, divine hands. "

A frowsy head suddenly appeared at the dining-room door, and a voicewhich accompanied it remarked:

"Didn't they bring in any stove, ma'am?"

Sophronia looked inquiringly at me, and I answered:

"No!" looking very blank at the same time. 

"Then how am I to make a fire to cook with?" asked the girl. 

"In the range, of course, " said Sophronia. 

Our domestic's next remark had, at least, the effect of teaching whatwas her nationality:

"An' do ye think that I'd ax fur a sthove av dhere was a range in thehouse? Dhivil a bit!"

"Never mind, dear, " said I soothingly; "I'm an old soldier; I'll make afire out of doors, and give you as nice a cup of tea and plate of hotbiscuit as you ever tasted. And I'll order a stove the first thing inthe morning. "

Sophronia consented, and our domestic was appeased. Then I asked thedomestic to get some water while I should make the fire. The honestdaughter of toil was absent for many moments, and when she returned, itwas to report, with some excitement, that there was neither well norcistern on the premises. 

Then I grew angry, and remarked, in Sophronia's hearing, that we were acouple of fools, to take a house without first proving whether the agenthad told the truth. But Sophronia, who is a consistent optimist, rebukedme for my want of faith in the agent. 

"Pierre, " said she, "it is unmanly to charge a fellow-man withfalsehood upon the word of a menial. I know that agent tells the truth, for he has such liquid blue eyes; besides, his house is right next tothe Presbyterian Church. "

Either one of these powerful arguments was sufficient to silence me, ofcourse; so I took the pail, and sought well and cistern myself. But ifeither was on the place, it was so skillfully secreted that I could notfind the slightest outward evidence of it. Finally, to be thorough, Ipaced the garden from front to rear, over lines not more than ten feetapart, and then scrutinized the fence-corners. 

While at this work, I was approached by a gentleman, who seemed to comefrom a house two or three hundred yards off. 

"Moved into the cottage, it seems, " said he. 

"Yes, " I replied. "Do you know the place? The agent said there wasexcellent water here, but I can't find it. "

"He meant there was good water in my well, where all occupants of thecottage have drawn water for several years. The well belonging to yourplace was covered up when the road was cut through, a few years ago, andneighbor Hubbell--well, _I_ don't say anything against him--neighborsmust be neighborly, but folks _do_ say he's too stingy to dig a newwell. That's the reason the cottage hasn't been occupied much for thelast few years. But everybody is welcome to draw from my well--comealong. "

I followed the kind-hearted man, but I wished that the liquid depth ofthe agent's blue eyes had a proper parallel upon the estate which he hadimposed upon me. I returned as full of wrath as my pail was of water, when, across the fence, I saw Sophronia's face, so suffused with tenderexaltation, that admiration speedily banished ill nature. 

But it was for a brief moment only, for Sophronia's finely-cut lipsparted and their owner exclaimed:

"Oh, Pierre! What a charming pastoral picture--you and the pail, and thelawn as a background! I wish we might always have to get water from ourneighbor's, well. "

We retired early, and in the delightful quiet of our rural retreat, withthe moon streaming through our chamber window, Sophronia became poetic, and I grew too peaceful and happy even to harbor malice against theagent. The eastern sun found his way through the hemlocks to wake us inthe morning, and the effect was so delightfully different from therising bell of the boarding-house, that when Sophronia indulged in somefreedom with certain of Whittier's lines, and exclaimed:

 "Sad is the man who never sees The sun shine through his hemlock trees"

I appreciated her sentiment, and expressed my regard in a, loving kiss. Again I made a fire out of doors, boiled coffee, fried ham and eggs, made some biscuit, begged some milk of our neighbor, and then we had adelightful little breakfast. Then I started for the station. 

"Don't forget the stove, dear, " said Sophronia, as she gave me a partingkiss; "and be sure to send a butcher, and baker, and grocer, and--"

Just then our domestic appeared and remarked:

"Arah ye may as well get another girl; the likes ai me isn't goin' tobring wather from half-a-mile away. "

Sophronia grew pale, but she lost not an atom of her saintly calmness;she only said, half to herself:

"Poor thing! she hasn't a bit of poetry in her soul. "

When I returned in the evening, I found Sophronia in tears. The stovemen had not quite completed their work, so Sophronia and her assistanthad eaten nothing but dry bread since breakfast. The girl interrupted usto say that the stove was ready, but that she couldn't get either coalor wood, and would I just come and see why? I descended five of thecellar stairs, but the others were covered with water, and upon thewatery expanse about me floated the wagon-load of wood I had purchased. The coal heap, under a window fifteen feet away, loomed up like a ruggedcrag of basaltic rock. I took soundings with a stick and found thewater was rather more than two feet deep. Fortunately, there were amongmy war relics a pair of boots as long as the legs of their owner, so Idrew these on and descended the stairs with shovel and coal scuttle. Theboots had not been oiled in ten years, so they found accommodation forseveral quarts of water. As I strode angrily into the kitchen and setthe scuttle down with a suddenness which shook the floor, Sophroniaclapped her hands in ecstasy. 

"Pierre, " she exclaimed, "you look like the picture of the sturdyretainers of the old English barons. O, I do hope that water won't goaway very soon. The rattling of the water in your boots makes your step_so_ impressive. "

I found that in spite of the hunger from which she had suffered, Sophronia had not been idle during the day. She had coaxed the baker'sman to open the cases of pictures, and she and the domestic had carriedeach picture to the room in which it was to hang. The highest ceiling inthe house was six and a half feet from the floor, whereas our smallestpicture measured three feet and a half in height. But Sophronia'sart-loving soul was not to be daunted; the pictures being too large tohang, she had leaned them against the walls. 

"It's such an original idea, " said she; "and then, too, it gives eachpicture such an unusual effect--don't you think so?"

I certainly did. 

We spent the evening in trying to make our rooms look less likefurniture warehouses, but succeeded only partly. We agreed, too, that wecould find something for painters and kalsominers to do, for theceilings and walls were blotched and streaked so much that our prettyfurniture and carpets only made the plastering look more dingy. But whenagain we retired, and our lights were put, and only soft moonbeamsrelieved the darkness, our satisfaction with our new house filled uswith pleasant dreams, which we exchanged before sleeping. After fallingasleep, I dreamed of hearing a wonderful symphony performed by an unseenorchestra; it seemed as if Liszt might have composed it, and as if thescore was particularly strong in trombones and drums. Then the scenechanged, and I was on a ship in a storm at sea; the gale was blowing myhair about, and huge rain-drops occasionally struck my face. Sophroniawas by my side; but, instead of glorying with me in meeting thestorm-king in his home, she complained bitterly of the rain. Theunaccountable absence of her constitutional romanticism provoked me, andI remonstrated so earnestly, that the effort roused me to wakefulness. But Sophronia's complaining continued. I had scarcely realized that Iwas in a cottage chamber instead of on a ship's deck, when Sophroniaexclaimed:

"Pierre, I wonder if a shower-bath hasn't been arranged just where ourbed stands? because drops of water are falling in my face once in awhile. They are lovely and cool, but they trickle off on the pillow, andthat don't feel nice. "

I lit a candle, and examined the ceiling; directly over Sophronia's headthere was a heavy blotch, from the centre of which the water wasdropping. 

"Another result of taking that liquid blue-eyed agent's word, " Igrowled, hastily moving the bed and its occupant, and setting the basinon the floor to catch the water and save the carpet. 

"Why, Pierre!" exclaimed Sophronia, as I blew out the light, "how unjustyou are. Who could expect an agent to go over the roof like a cat, andexamine each shingle? Gracious! it's dropping here, too!"

Again I lighted the candle and moved the bed, but before I had time toretire Sophronia complained that a stream was trickling down upon herfeet. The third time the bed was moved water dropped down upon _my_pillow, and the room was too small to re-locate the bed so that none ofthese unauthorized hydrants should moisten us. Then we tried our sparechamber, but that was equally damp. 

Suddenly I bethought myself of another war relic; and, hurrying to anold trunk, extracted an india-rubber blanket. This, if we kept veryclose together, kept the water out, but almost smothered us. We changedour positions by sitting up, back to back, and dropping the rubberblanket over our heads. By this arrangement the air was allowed tocirculate freely, and we had some possibilities of conversation left us;but the effect of the weight of the blanket resting largely upon ourrespective noses was somewhat depressing. Suddenly Sophronia remarked:

"Oh, Pierre! this reminds me of those stories you used to tell me, ofhow you and all your earthly treasures used to hide under this blanketfrom the rain!"

The remark afforded an opportunity for a very graceful reply, but fourhours elapsed before I saw it. Sophronia did not seem hurt by mynegligence, but almost instantly continued:

"It would be just like war, if there was only some shooting going on. Can't you fire your revolver out of the window, Pierre?"

"I could, " I replied, "if that blue-eyed agent was anywhere withinrange. "

"Why, Pierre, I think you're dreadfully unjust to that poor man. _He_can't go sleeping around in all the rooms of each of his cottages everytime there's a rainstorm, to see if they leak. Besides--oh, Pierre! I'vea brilliant idea! It can't be wet down-stairs. "

True. I was so engrossed by different plans of revenge, that I had notthought of going into the parlor or dining-room to sleep. We moved tothe parlor; Sophronia took the lounge, while I found the floor a littleharder than I supposed an ex-soldier could ever find any plane surface. It did not take me long, however, to learn that the parlor-floor was_not_ a plane surface. It contained a great many small elevations whichkept me awake for the remainder of the night, wondering what they couldbe. At early dawn I was as far from a satisfactory theory as ever, and Ihastily loosened one end of the carpet and looked under. Theprotuberances were knots in the flooring boards. In the days when thesturdy patriots of New Jersey despised such monarchical luxuries ascarpets, the soft portions of these boards had been slowly worn away, but the knots--every one has heard the expression "as tough as a pineknot. " Fortunately, we had indulged in a frightfully expensive rug, andupon this I sought and found a brief period of repose and forgetfulness. 

While we were at the breakfast-table our girl appeared, with red eyesand a hoarse voice, and remarked that now she _must_ leave; she hadlearned to like us, and she loved the country, but she had an agedparent whose sole support she was, and could not afford to risk her lifein such a house. 

"Let her go, " said Sophronia. "If variety is the spice of life, whyshouldn't the rule apply to servants?"

"Perhaps it does, my dear, " I replied; "but if we have to pay each girla month's wages for two or three days of work, the spice will be morecostly than enjoyable--eh?"

Immediately after breakfast I sought the agent. I supposed he would meetme with downcast eyes and averted head, but he did nothing of the kind;he extended his hand cordially, and said he was delighted to see me. 

"That roof, " said I, getting promptly to business, "leaks--well, it'ssimply a sieve. And you told me the house was dry. "

"So the owner told _me_, sir; of course you can't expect us to inspectthe hundreds of houses we handle in a year. "

"Well, however that may be, the owner is mistaken, and he must repairthe roof at once. "

The agent looked thoughtful. "If you had wished the landlord to makenecessary repairs, you should have so stipulated in the lease. The leaseyou have signed provides that all repairs shall be made at your ownexpense. "

"Did the landlord draw up the lease?" I asked, fixing my eye severelyupon the agent's liquid orbs. But the agent met my gaze with defianceand an expression of injured dignity. 

"I asked you whether you would have the usual form of lease, " said theagent, "and you replied, 'Certainly. '"

I abruptly left the agent's presence, went to a lumber yard near by, andasked where I could find the best carpenter in town. He happened to beon the ground purchasing some lumber, and to him I made known mytroubles, and begged him to hasten to my relief. The carpenter was a manof great decision of character, and he replied promptly, ciphering on acard in the meantime:

"No you don't. Every carpenter in town has tried his hand on that roof, and made it worse than before. The only way to make it tight is tore-shingle it all over. That'll cost you $67. 50, unless the scantling istoo rotten to hold the nails, in which case the job'll cost you $18. 75more. I guess the rafters are strong enough to hold together a year ortwo longer. "

I made some excuse to escape the carpenter and his dreadful figures, andhe graciously accepted it; doubtless the perfect method in which he didit was the result of frequent interviews with other wretched beings whohad leased the miserable house which I had taken into my confidence. Idetermined to plead with the landlord, whose name I knew, and I asked achance acquaintance on the train if he knew where I could find theproprietor of my house. 

"Certainly, " said he; "there he is in the opposite seat but one, readinga religious weekly. "

I looked; my heart sank within me, and my body sank into a seat. Acold-eyed, hatchet-faced man, from whom not even the most eloquentbeggar could hope to coax a penny. Of what use would it be to try topersuade him to spend sixty-seven dollars and fifty cents on somethingwhich _I_ had agreed to take care of. _Something_ had to be done, however, so I wasted most of the day in consulting New York roofers. Theconclusion of the whole matter was that I spent about thirty dollars forcondemned "flies" from "hospital" tents, and had these drawn tightlyover the roof. When this was done the appearance of the house was suchthat I longed for an incendiary who would compel me to seek a newresidence; but when Sophronia gazed upon the roof she clapped her handsjoyfully, and exclaimed:

"Pierre, it will be _almost_ as nice as living in a tent, to have one onthe roof; it _looks_ just the same, you know, until your eyes get downto the edge of it. "

There was at least one comfort in living at Villa Valley: the peoplewere very intelligent and sociable, and we soon made many pleasantacquaintances. But they all had something dreadful to suggest about ourhouse. A doctor, who was a remarkably fine fellow, said he would be gladof my patronage, and didn't doubt that he would soon have it, unless Ihad the cellar pumped out at once. Then Mrs. Blathe, the leader ofsociety in the village, told my wife how a couple who once lived in ourcottage always had chills, though no one else at Villa Valley had theremotest idea of what a chill was. The several coal dealers in thevillage competed in the most lively manner for our custom, and when Imentioned the matter, in some surprise, to my grocer, he remarked that_they_ knew what houses needed most coal to keep them warm the yearthrough, and worked for custom accordingly. A deacon, who was sociablebut solemn, remarked that some of his most sweetly mournful associationsclustered about our cottage--he had followed several of its occupants totheir long homes. 

And yet, as the season advanced, and the air was too dry to admit ofdampness anywhere, and the Summer breezes blew in the windows and doorswhole clouds of perfume from the rank thickets of old-fashioned roseswhich stood about the garden, we became sincerely attached to the littlecottage. Then heavy masses of honeysuckles and vines which were trainedagainst the house, grew dense and picturesque with foliage, andSophronia would enjoy hours of perfect ecstasy, sitting in an easy-chairunder the evergreens and gazing at the graceful outlines of the houseand its verdant ornaments. 

But the cellar was obdurate. It was pumped dry several times, but nopump could reach the inequalities in its floor, and in August there camea crowd of mosquitoes from the water in these small holes. They coveredthe ceilings and walls, they sat in every chair, they sangaccompaniments to all of Sophronia's songs, they breakfasted, dined, andsupped with us and upon us. Sophronia began to resemble a person in thefirst stages of varioloid, yet that incomparable woman would sit betweensunset and dusk, looking, through nearly closed eyes, at the walls andceiling, and would remark:

"Pierre, when you look at the walls in this way, the mosquitoes givethem the effect of being papered with some of that exquisite newJapanese wall-paper, with its quaint spots; don't you think so?"

Finally September came, and with it the equinoctial storm. We lay in bedone night, the wind howling about us, and Sophronia rhapsodising, through the medium of Longfellow's lines, about

 "The storm-wind of the Equinox, "

when we heard a terrific crash, and then the sound of a falling bodywhich shook the whole house. Sophronia clasped me wildly and began topray; but I speedily disengaged myself, lighted a candle, and sought thecause of our disturbance. I found it upon the hall-floor: it was thefront-door and its entire casing, both of which, with considerableplaster, lathing, and rotten wood, had been torn from its place by thefury of the storm. 

In the morning I sought a printer, with a small but strong manuscriptwhich I had spent the small hours of the night in preparing. It borethis title, "The House I Live In. " The printer gave me the proof thesame day, and I showed it to the owner of the house the same evening, remarking that I should mail a copy to every resident of Villa Valley, and have one deposited in every Post Office box in New York City. Theowner offered to cancel my lease if I would give up my unkind intention, and I consented. Then we hired a new cottage (_not_ from the agent withthe liquid blue eyes), and, before accepting it, I examined it as if itwere to be my residence to all eternity. Yet when all our householdgoods were removed, and Sophronia and I took our final departure, thegentle mistress of my home turned regretfully, burst into tears, andsobbed:

"Oh, Pierre! in spite of everything, it _is_ a love of a cottage. "

THE BLEIGHTON RIVALS. 

The village of Bleighton contained as many affectionate young people asany other place of its size, and was not without young ladies, for thepossession of whose hearts two or more young men strove against eachother. When, however, allusion was ever made to "the rivals" no onedoubted to whom the reference applied: it was always understood that theyoung men mentioned were those two of Miss Florence Elserly's admirersfor whom Miss Elserly herself seemed to have more regard than shemanifested toward any one else. 

There has always been some disagreement among the young ladies ofBleighton as to Miss Elserly's exact rank among beauties, but there wasno possibility of doubt that Miss Elserly attracted more attention thanany other lady in the town, and that among her admirers had been everyyoung man among whom other Bleighton ladies of taste would have chosentheir life-partners had the power of choosing pertained to their ownsex. 

The good young men of the village, the successful business men who werebachelors, and the stylish young fellows who came from the neighboringcity in the Summer, bowed before Miss Elserly as naturally as if fate, embodied in the person of the lady herself, commanded them. 

How many proposals Miss Elserly had received no one knew; for two orthree years no one was able to substantiate an opinion, from the younglady's walk and conversation, that she specially preferred any one ofher personal acquaintances; but at length it became evident that sheevinced more than the interest of mere acquaintanceship in Hubert Brown, the best of the native-born young men of the village. 

Mr. Brown was a theological student, but the march of civilization hadbeen such at Bleighton that a prospective shepherd of souls might listento one of Beethoven's symphonies in a city opera-house without havingany sin imputed unto him! Such music-loving inhabitants of Bleighton aslistened to one of these symphonies, which was also heard by Mr. Brownand Miss Elserly, noticed that when the young couple exchanged words andglances, Miss Elserly's well-trained features were not so carefullyguarded as they usually were in society. Such ladies as had nothing todo, and even a few who were not without pressing demands upon theirtime, canvassed the probabilities of the match quite exhaustively, andmade some prophecies, but were soon confused by the undoubted fact thatMiss Elserly drove out a great deal with Major Mailing, the dashingex-soldier, and successful broker from the city. 

The charm of uncertainty being thus added to the ordinary features ofinterest which pertain to all persons suspected of being in love, madeMiss Elserly's affairs of unusual importance to every one who knew theyoung lady even by sight, and for three whole months "the rivals" were asubject of conversation next in order to the weather. At length therecame a day when the case seemed decided. For three days Hubert Brown'sface was very seldom seen on the street, and when seen it was longer andmore solemn than was required even by that order of sanctity in whichtheological students desire to live. 

Then it was noticed that while Miss Elserly's beauty grew no less indegree, it changed in kind; that she was more than ever seen in thesociety of the handsome broker, and that the broker's attentions wereassiduous. Then it was suspected that Mr. Brown had proposed and beenrejected. Ladies who owed calls to Mr. Brown's mother, made haste topay them, and, as rewards of merit, brought away confirmation of thereport. Then, before the gossips had reported the probable engagement ofMiss Elserly to Major Mailing, the lady and major made the announcementthemselves to their intimate friends, and the news quickly reached everyone who cared to hear it. 

A few weeks later, however, there circulated very rapidly a story whoseforeshadowing could not have been justly expected of the villagegossips. The major absented himself for a day or two from hisboarding-house, and at a time, too, when numerous gentlemen from thecity came to call upon him. 

Some of these callers returned hurriedly to the city, evincing by wordsand looks the liveliest disappointment, while two of them, afterconsiderable private conversation with the proprietress of the house, and after displaying some papers, in the presence of a local justice ofthe peace, to whom the good old lady sent in her perplexity, tookpossession of the major's room and made quite free with the ex-warrior'scigars, liquors, and private papers. 

Then the city newspapers told how Mr. Malling, a broker of excellentability and reputation, as well as one of the most gallant of hiscountry's defenders in her hour of need, had been unable to meet hisengagements, and had also failed to restore on demand fifteen thousanddollars in United States bonds which had been intrusted to him forsafe-keeping. A warrant had been issued for Mr. Malling's arrest; but atlast accounts the officers had been unable to find him. 

Miss Elserly immediately went into the closest retirement, and evengirls whom she had robbed of prospective beaus felt sorry for her. People began to suggest that there might have been a chance for Brown, after all, if he had staid at home, instead of rushing off to the Westto play missionary. He owned more property in his own right than themajor had misplaced for other people; and though some doubts wereexpressed as to Miss Elserly's fitness for the position of a minister'swife, the matter was no less interesting as a subject for conversation. The excellence of the chance which both Brown and Miss Elserly had lostseemed even greater when it became noised abroad that Brown had writtento some real estate agents in the village that, as he might want to gointo business in the West, to sell for him, for cash, a valuable farmwhich his father had left him. As for the business which Mr. Brownproposed entering, the reader may form his own opinions from a littleconversation hereinafter recorded. 

As Hubert Brown, trying to drown thought and do good, was wanderingthrough a Colorado town one evening, he found himself face to face withMajor Mailing. The major looked seedy, and some years older than he dida month before, but his pluck was unchanged. Seeing that an interviewcould not be avoided, he assumed an independent air, and exclaimed:

"Why, Brown, what did you do that you had to come West?"

"Nothing, " said the student, flushing a little--"except be useless. "

"I thought, " said the major, quickly, with a desperate but sicklyattempt at pleasantry, "that you had gone in for Florence again; she'sworth all your 'lost sheep of the house of Israel. '"

"I don't make love to women who love other men, " replied Brown. 

"Don't, please, Brown, " said the major, turning manly in a moment. "Ifeel worse about her than about all my creditors or those infernalbonds. I got into the snarl before I knew her; that's the only way I canquiet my conscience. Of course the--matter is all up now. I wrote her asgood an apology as I could, and a release; she'd have taken the latterwithout my giving it, but--"

"No she wouldn't, " interrupted the student. 

"How do you know?" demanded the major, with a suspicious glance, whichdid not escape Brown. "Did you torment her by proposing again upon thetop of her other troubles?"

"No, " said Brown; "don't be insulting. But I know that she keeps herselfsecluded, and that her looks and spirits are dreadfully changed. If shecared nothing for you, she knows society would cheerfully forgive her ifshe were to show it. "

"I wish to Satan that I hadn't met _you_, then, " said the major. "I'vetaken solid comfort in the thought that most likely she was again theadored of all adorers, and was forgetting me, as she has so good a rightto do. "

"Major, " said Brown, bringing his hand down on the major's shoulder in amanner suggestive of a deputy sheriff, "you ought to go back to thatgirl!"

"And fail, " suggested the major. "Thank you; and allow me to say you'rea devilish queer fellow for suggesting it. Is it part of your religionto forgive a successful rival?"

"It's part of my religion, when I love, to love the woman more than Ilove myself, " said Brown, with a face in which pain and earnestnessstrove for the mastery. "She loves you. I loved her, and want to see herhappy. "

The defaulter grasped the student's hand. 

"Brown, " said he, "you're one of God's noblemen; _she_ told me so once, but I didn't imagine then that I'd ever own up to it myself. It can't bedone, though; she can't marry a man in disgrace--I can't ask a woman tomarry me on nothing; and, besides, there's the matter of those infernalbonds. I _can't_ clear that up, and keep out of the sheriff's fingers. "

"I can, " said Brown. 

"How?" asked the ex-broker, with staring eyes. 

"I'll lend the money. "

The major dropped Brown's hand. 

"You heavenly lunatic!" said he. "I always _did_ think religion madefools of men when they got too much of it. Then I could go back on theStreet again; the boys would be glad to see me clear myself--notmeeting my engagements wouldn't be remembered against me. But, say--borrow money from an old rival to make myself right with the girl_he_ loved! No, excuse me. I've got _some_ sense of honor left!"

"You mean you love yourself more than you do her, " suggested Brown. "I'll telegraph about the money, and you write her in the meantime. Don't ruin her happiness for life by delay or trifling. "

The major became a business man again. 

"Brown, " said he, "I'll take your offer; and, whatever comes of it, you'll have one friend you can swear to as long as I live. You haven'tthe money with you?"

"No, " said Brown; "but you shall have it in a fortnight. I'll telegraphabout it, and go East and settle the business for you, so you can comeback without fear. "

"You're a trump; but--don't think hard of me--money's never certain tillyou have it in hand. I'll write and send my letter East by you; when thematter's absolutely settled, you can telegraph _me_, and mail her myletter. I'd expect to be shot if I made such a proposal to any otherrival, but you're not a man--you're a saint. Confound you, all thesermons I ever heard hadn't as much real goodness in them as I've heardthe last ten minutes! But 'twould be awful for me to write and then havethe thing slip up!"

Brown admitted the justice of the major's plan, and took the major tohis own hotel to keep him from bad company. 

During the whole evening the major talked about business: but when, after a night of sound sleep, the student awoke, he found the majorpacing his room with a very pale face, and heard him declare that he hadnot slept a wink. 

Brown pitied the major in his nervous condition and did what he could toalleviate it. He talked to him of Florence Elserly, of whom he seemednever to tire of talking; he spoke to him of his own work and hopes. Hetried to picture to the major the happy future which was awaiting himbut still the major was unquiet and absent-minded. Brown called in aphysician, to whom he said his friend was suffering from severe mentaldepression, brought on by causes now removed; but the doctor'sprescriptions failed to have any effect. Finally, when Brown was tostart for the East the major, paler and thinner than ever, handed him aletter addressed to Miss Elserly. 

"Brown, " said the major, "I believe you won't lose any money by yourgoodness. I _can_ make money when I am not reckless, and I'll make it myduty to be careful until you are paid. The rest I _can't_ pay, but I'mgoing to try to be as good a man as you are. That's the sort ofcompensation that'll please such an unearthly fellow best, I guess. "

When Hubert Brown reached Bleighton, he closed with the best offer thathad been made for his farm, though the offer itself was one which madethe natives declare that Hubert Brown had taken leave of his senses. Then he settled with the loser of the bonds, saw one or two of themajor's business acquaintances, and prepared the way for the major'sreturn; then he telegraphed the major himself. Lastly, he dressedhimself with care and called upon Miss Elserly. Before sending up hiscard, he penciled upon it "_avec nouvelles a lire_, " which words theservant scanned with burning curiosity, but of which she could rememberbut one, when she tried to repeat them to the grocer's young man, andthis one she pronounced "arick, " as was natural enough in a lady of hernationality. This much of the message was speedily circulated throughthe town, and caused at least one curious person to journey to a greatlibrary in the city in quest of a Celtic dictionary. As for therecipient of the card, she met her old lover with a face made more thanbeautiful by the conflicting emotions which manifested themselves in it. The interview was short. Mr. Brown said he had accidentally met themajor and had successfully acted as his agent in relieving him from hisembarrassments. He had the pleasure of delivering a letter from themajor, and hoped it might make Miss Elserly as happy to receive it asit made him to present it. Miss Elserly expressed her thanks, and thenMr. Brown said:

[Illustration: HE TOOK MISS ELSERLY'S HAND IN HIS OWN, AND STAMMERED, "ICAME TO PLEAD FOR THE MAJOR. "]

"Pardon a bit of egotism and reference to an unpleasant subject, MissElserly, Once I told you that I loved you; in this matter of themajor's, I have been prompted solely by a sincere desire for yourhappiness; and by acting in this spirit I have entirely taken the painout of my old wound. Mayn't I, therefore, as the major's most sincerewell-wisher, enjoy once more your friendship?"

Miss Elserly smiled sweetly, and extended her hand, and Hubert Brownwent home a very happy man. Yet, when he called again, several eveningslater, he was not as happy as he had hoped to be in Miss Elserly'ssociety, for the lady herself, though courteous and cordial, seemedsomewhat embarrassed and _distrait_, and interrupted the young man onseveral occasions when he spoke in commendation of some good quality ofthe major's. Again he called, and again the same strange embarrassment, though less in degree, manifested itself. Finally, it disappearedaltogether, and Miss Elserly began to recover her health and spirits. Even then she did not exhibit as tender an interest in the major as thestudent had hoped she would do; but, as the major's truest friend, hecontinued to sound his praises, and to pay Miss Elserly, in the major'sstead, every kind of attention he could devise. 

Finally he learned that the major was in the city, and he hastened toinform Miss Elserly, lest, perhaps, she had not heard so soon. The ladyreceived the announcement with an exquisite blush and downcast eyes, though she admitted that the major had himself apprised her of his safearrival. On this particular evening the lady seemed to Mr. Brown to bepersonally more charming than ever; yet, on the other hand, the oldembarrassment was so painfully evident that Mr. Brown made an earlydeparture. Arrived at home he found a letter from the major which readas follows:

"MY DEAR OLD FELLOW. --From the day on which I met you in Colorado I'vebeen trying to live after your pattern; how I succeeded on the thirdday, you may guess from inclosed, which is a copy of a letter I sent toFlorence by you. I've only just got her permission to send it to you, though I've teased her once a week on the subject. God bless you, oldfellow. Don't worry on my account, for I'm really happy. Yours truly, "MALLING. "

With wondering eyes Hubert Brown read the inclosure, which read asfollows:

"Miss ELSERLY--Three days ago, while a fugitive from justice, yethonestly loving you more than I ever loved any other being, I met HubertBrown. He has cared for me as if I was his dearest friend; he is goingto make good my financial deficiencies, and restore me torespectability. He cannot have done this out of love for _me_, for heknows nothing of me but that which should make him hate me, on bothpersonal and moral grounds. He says he did it because he loved you, andbecause he wants to see you happy. Miss Elserly, such love cannot be athing of the past only, and it is so great that in comparison with itthe best love that _I_ have ever given you seems beneath your notice. Heis begging me to go back for your sake; he is constantly talking to meabout you in a tone and with a look that shows how strong is the feelinghe is sacrificing, out of sincere regard for you. Miss Elserly, I neverimagined the angels loving as purely and strongly as he does. He tellsme you still retain some regard for me; the mere thought is so great acomfort that I cannot bear to reason seriously about it; yet, if anysuch feelings exist, I must earnestly beg of you, out of the sincere andfaithful affection I have had for you, to give up all thought of me forever, and give yourself entirely to that most incomparable lover, HubertBrown. 

"Forgive my intrusion and advice. I give it because the remembrance ofour late relations will assure you of the honesty and earnestness of mymeaning. I excuse myself by the thought that to try to put into suchnoble keeping the dearest treasure that I ever possessed, is a dutywhich justifies my departure from any conventional rule. I am, MissElserly, as ever, your worshiper. More than this I cannot dare to thinkof being, after my own fall and the overpowering sense I have of thesuperior worth of another. God bless you. 

"ANDREW MALLING. "

Mr. Brown hastily laid the letter aside, and again called upon MissElserly. 

Again she met him with many signs of the embarrassment whose cause henow understood so well; yet as he was about to deliver an awkwardapology a single look from under Miss Elserly's eyebrows--only a glance, but as searching and eloquent as it was swift--stopped his tongue. Hetook Miss Elserly's hand in his own and stammered:

"I came to plead for the major. "

"And I shan't listen to you, " said she, raising her eyes with so tendera light in them that Hubert Brown immediately hid the eyes themselves inhis heart, lest the light should be lost. 

BUDGE AND TODDIE AT AUNT ALICE'S. 

[_The following is quoted, by permission, from Mr. Habberton's popularbook_, "OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN, " _published by_ G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, _New York_. ]

Mrs. Burton's birthday dawned brightly, and it is not surprising that, as it was her first natal anniversary since her marriage to a man whohad no intention or ability to cease being a lover--it is not surprisingthat her ante-breakfast moments were too fully and happily occupied toallow her to even think of two little boys who had already impressedupon her their willingness and general ability to think for themselves. As for the young men themselves, they awoke with the lark, and with aheavy sense of responsibility also. The room of Mrs. Burton'schambermaid joined their own, and the occupant of that room having beencharged by her mistress with the general care of the boys between darkand daylight, she had gradually lost that faculty for profound slumberwhich so notably distinguishes the domestic servant from all other humanbeings. She had grown accustomed to wake at the first sound in the boys'room, and on the morning of her mistress's birthday the first sound sheheard was: "Tod!"

No response could be heard; but a moment later the chambermaid heard:

"T--o--o--od!"

"Ah--h--h--ow!" drawled a voice, not so sleepily but it could soundaggrieved. 

"Wake up, dear old Toddie, budder--it's Aunt Alice's birthday now. "

"Needn't bweak my earzh open, if '_tis, _ whined Toddie. "

"I only holloed in _one_ ear, Tod, " remonstrated Budge "an' you oughtto love dear Aunt Alice enough to have _that_ hurt a little rather thannot wake up. "

A series of groans, snarls, whines, grunts, snorts, and remonstrancessemi-articulate were heard, and at length some complicated wriggles andconvulsive kicks were made manifest to the listening ear, and then Budgesaid:

"_That's_ right; now let's get up an' get ready. Say; do you know thatwe didn't think anything about having some music. Don't you remember howpapa played the piano last mamma's birthday when she came down stairs, an' how happy it made her, an' we danced around?"

"Aw wight, " said Toddie. "Let's. "

"_Tell_ you what, " said Budge, "let's _both_ bang the piano, like mammaan' Aunt Alice does together sometimes. "

"Oh, yesh!" exclaimed Toddie. "We can make some awful _big_ bangshbefore she can get down to tell us to don't. "

Then there was heard a scurrying of light feet as the boys picked uptheir various articles of clothing from the corners, chairs, bureau, table, etc. , where they had been tossed the night before. Thechambermaid hurried to their assistance, and both boys were soondressed. A plate containing bananas, and another with the hard-earnedgrapes, were on the bureau, and the boys took them and tiptoed down thestair and into the drawing-room. 

"Gwacious!" said Toddie, as he placed his plate on the sideboard, "maybethe gwapes an' buttonanoes has got sour. I guesh we'd better try 'em, like mamma does the milk on hot morningsh when the baddy milkman don'tcome time enough, " and Toddie suited the action to the word by pluckingfrom a cluster the handsomest grape in sight. "I _fink_, " said he, smacking his lips with the suspicious air of a professional wine-taster;"I fink they _is_ gettin' sour. " "Let's see, " said Budge. 

"No, " said Toddie, plucking another grape with one hand while with theother he endeavored to cover his gift. "Ize bid enough to do it allmyself. Unless, " he added, as a happy inspiration struck him, "you'lllet me help see if your buttonanoes are sour. "

"Then you can only have one bite, " said Budge, "You must let me tasteabout six grapes, 'cause 'twould take that many to make one of _your_bites on a banana. "

"Aw wight, " said Toddie; and the boys proceeded to exchange duties, Budge taking the precaution to hold the banana himself, so that hisbrother should not abstractedly sample a second time, and Toddie dolingout the grapes with careful count. 

"They _are_ a little sour, " said Budge, with a wry face. "Perhaps someother bunch is better. I think we'd better try each one, don't you?"

"An' each one of the buttonanoes, too, " suggested Toddie. "_That_ onewazh pretty good, but maybe some of the others isn't. "

The proposition was accepted, and soon each banana had its lengthreduced by a fourth, and the grape-clusters displayed a fine developmentof wood. Then Budge seemed to realize that his present was not assightly as it might be, for he carefully closed the skins at the ends, and turned the unbroken ends to the front as deftly as if he were a bornretailer of fruit. 

This done, he exclaimed: "Oh! we want our cards on em, else how will sheknow who they came from?"

"We'll be here to tell her, " said Toddie. 

"Huh!" said Budge; "That wouldn't make her half so happy. Don't you knowhow when cousin Florence gets presents of flowers, she's always happiestwhen she's lookin' at the card that comes with 'em?"

"Aw right, " said Toddie, hurrying into the parlor, 'and returning withthe cards of a lady and gentleman, taken haphazard from his aunt'scard-receiver. 

"Now, we must write 'Happy Birthday' on the backs of 'em, " said Budge, exploring his pockets, and extracting a stump of a lead-pencil. "Now, "continued Budge, leaning over the card, and displaying all the facialcontortions of the unpracticed writer, as he laboriously printed, inlarge letters, speaking, as he worked, a letter at a time:

"H--A--P--P--E B--U--R--F--D--A--Happy Birthday. Now, you must hold thepencil for yours, or else it won't be so sweet--that's what mamma says. "

Toddie took the pencil in his pudgy hand, and Budge guided the hand; andtwo juvenile heads touched each other, and swayed, and twisted, andbobbed in unison until the work was completed. 

"Now, I think she ought to come, " said Budge. (Breakfast time was stillmore than an hour distant. ) "Why, the rising-bell hasn't rung yet! Let'sring it!"

The boys fought for possession of the bell; but superior mightconquered, and Budge marched up and down the hall, ringing with theenthusiasm and duration peculiar to the amateur. 

"Bless me!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, hastening to complete her toilet. "How time does fly--sometimes!"

Mr. Burton saw something in his wife's face that seemed to call forlover-like treatment; but it was not without a sense of injury that heexclaimed, immediately after, as he drew forth his watch:

"I declare! I would make an affidavit that we hadn't been awake half anhour. Ah! I forgot to wind up my watch last night. "

The boys hurried into the parlor. 

"I hear 'em trampin' around!" exclaimed Budge, in great excitement. "There!--the piano's shut! Isn't that _too_ mean! Oh, _I'll_ tellyou--here's Uncle Harry's violin. "

"Then whatsh _I_ goin' to play on?" asked Toddie, dancing franticallyabout. 

"Wait a minute, " said Budge, dropping the violin, and hurrying to thefloor above, from which he speedily returned with a comb. A bound volumeof the _Portfolio_ lay upon the table, and opening this, Badge tore thetissue paper from one of the etchings and wrapped the comb in it. 

"There!" said he, "you fiddle an' I'll blow the comb. Goodness! why_don't_ they come down? Oh, we forgot to put pennies under the plate, and we don't know how many years old to put 'em for. "

"An' we ain't got no pennies, " said Toddie. 

"_I_ know, " said Budge, hurrying to a cabinet in a drawer of which hisuncle kept the nucleus of a collection of American coinage. "This kindof pennies, " Budge continued, "isn't so pretty as our kind, but they'rebigger, an' they'll look better on a table-cloth. Now, how old do youthink she is?"

"I dunno, " said Toddie, going into a reverie of hopeless conjecture. "She's about as big as you and me put togevver. "

"Well, " said Budge, "you're four an' I'm six, an' four an' six is ten--Iguess ten'll be about the thing. "

Mrs. Burton's plate was removed, and the pennies were deposited in acircle. There was some painful counting and recounting, and manydisagreements, additions and subtractions. Finally, the pennies werearranged in four rows, two of three each and two of two each, and Budgecounted the threes and Toddie verified the twos; and Budge was addingthe four sums together, when footsteps were heard descending the stairs. 

Budge hastily dropped the surplus coppers upon the four rows, replacedthe plate, and seized the comb as Toddie placed the violin against hisknee, as he had seen small, itinerant Italians do. A second or twolater, as the host and hostess entered the dining-room, there arose asound which caused Mrs. Burton to clap her fingers to her ears, whileher husband exclaimed:

'"Scat!"

Then both boys dropped their instruments, Toddie finding the ways of hisown feet seriously compromised by the strings of the violin, while bothchildren turned happy faces toward their aunt, and shouted:

"Happy Burfday!"

Mr. Burton hurried to the rescue of his darling instrument while hiswife gave each boy an appreciative kiss, and showed them a couple ofgrateful tears. Then her eye was caught by the fruit on the sideboard, and she read the cards aloud:

"Mrs. Frank Rommery--this is like her effusiveness. I've never met herbut once, but I suppose her bananas must atone for her lack of manners. Why, Charley Crewne! Dear me! What memories some men have!"

A cloud came upon Mr. Burton's brow. Charlie Crewne had been one of hisrivals for Miss Mayton's hand, and Mrs. Burton was looking a triflethoughtful, and her husband was as unreasonable as newly-made husbandsare sure to be, when Mrs. Burton exclaimed:

"Some one has been picking the grapes off in the most shameful manner. Boys!"

"_Ain't_ from no Rommerys an' Crewnes, " said Toddie. "Theysh from me an'Budge, an' we dzust tasted 'em to see if they'd got sour in the night. "

"Where did the cards come from?" asked Mrs. Burton. 

"Out of the basket in the parlor, " said Budge; "but the back is the nicepart of 'em. "

Mrs. Burton's thoughtful expression and her husband's frown disappearedtogether, as they seated themselves at the table. Both boys wriggledrigorously until their aunt raised her plate, and then Budge exclaimed:

"A penny for each year, you know. "

"Thirty-one!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, after counting the heap. "Howcomplimentary!"

"What doesh you do for little boys on your bifeday?" asked Toddie, afterbreakfast was served. "Mamma does _lots_ of fings. "

"Yes, " said Budge, "she says she thinks people ought to get their ownhappy by makin' other people happy. An' mamma knows better than you, youknow, 'cause she's been married longest. "

Although Mrs. Burton admitted the facts, the inference seemed scarcelynatural, and she said so. 

"Well--a--a--a--a--_any_how, " said Toddie, "mamma always has parties onher bifeday, an' we hazh all the cake we want. "

"You shall be happy to-day, then, " said Mrs. Burton; "for a few friendswill be in to see me this afternoon, and I am going to have a nicelittle lunch for them, and you shall lunch with us, if you will be verygood until then, and keep yourselves clean and neat. "

"Aw wight, " said Toddie. "Izhn't it most time now?"

"Tod's all stomach, " said Budge, with some contempt. "Say, Aunt Alice, Ihope you won't forget to have some fruit-cake. That's the kind _we_ likebest. "

"You'll come home very early, Harry?" asked Mrs. Burton, ignoring hernephew's question. 

"By noon, at furthest, " said the gentleman. "I only want to see mymorning letters, and fill any orders that may be in them. "

"What are you coming so early for, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge. 

"To take Aunt Alice riding, old boy, " said Mr. Burton. 

"Oh! just listen, Tod! Won't that be jolly? Uncle Harry's going to takeus riding!"

"I said I was going to take your Aunt Alice, Budge, " said Mr. Burton. 

"I heard you, " said Budge, "but that won't trouble us any. She alwayslikes to talk to you better than she does to us. When are we going?"

Mr. Burton asked his wife, in German, whether the Lawrence-Burtonassurance was not charmingly natural, and Mrs. Burton answered in thesame tongue that it was, but was none the less deserving of rebuke, andthat she felt it to be her duty to tone it down in her nephews. Mr. Burton wished her joy of the attempt, and asked a number of searchingquestions about success already attained, until Mrs. Burton was glad tosee Toddie come out of a brown study and hear him say:

"I fink that placesh where the river is bwoke off izh the nicestplacesh. "

"What _does_ the child mean?" asked his aunt. 

"Don't you know where we went last year, an' you stopped us from seein'how far we could hang over, Uncle Harry?" said Budge. 

"Oh--Passaic Falls!" exclaimed Mr. Burton. 

"Yes, that's it, " said Budge. 

"Old riverzh bwoke wight in two there, " said Toddie, "an' a piece ofit's way up in the air, an' anuvver piece izh way down in big hole inthe shtones. _That'sh_ where I want to go widin'. "

"Listen, Toddy, " said Mrs. Burton. "We like to take you riding with usat most times, but _to-day_ we prefer to go alone. You and Budge willstay at home--we shan't be gone more than two hours. "

"Wantsh to go a-widin'!" exclaimed Toddie. 

"I know you do, dear, but you must wait until some other day, " said thelady. 

"But I _wantsh_ to go, " Toddie explained. 

"And I don't want you to, so you can't, " said Mrs. Burton, in a tonewhich would reduce any reasonable person to hopelessness. But Toddie, inspite of manifest astonishment, remarked:

"Wantsh to go a-widin'. "

"_Now_ the fight is on, " murmured Mr. Burton to himself. Then he arosehastily from the table, and said:

"I think I'll try to catch the earlier train, my dear, as I am comingback so soon. "

Mrs. Burton arose to bid her husband Good-by, and was kissed withmore than usual tenderness, and then held at arm's length, whilemanly eyes looked into her own with an expression which she founduntranslatable--for two hours at least. Mrs. Burton saw her husbandfairly on his way, and then she returned to the dining-room, led Toddieinto the parlor, took him upon her lap, wound her arms tenderly abouthim, and said:

"Now, Toddie, dear, listen carefully to what Aunt Alice tells you. Thereare some reasons why you boys should not go with us to-day, and AuntAlice means just what she says when she tells you you can't go with us. If you were to ask a hundred times it would not make the slightest bitof difference. You cannot go, and you must stop thinking about it. "

Toddie listened intelligently from beginning to end, and replied:

"But I _wantsh_ to go. "

"And you can't. That ends the matter. "

"No, it don't, " said Toddie, "not a single bittle. I wantsh to go badderthan ever. "

"But you are not going. "

"I wantsh to go so baddy, " said Toddy, beginning to cry. 

"I suppose you do, and auntie is very sorry for you, " said Mr. Burton, kindly; "but that does not alter the case. When grown people say 'No!'little boys must understand that they mean it. "

"But what I wantsh izh to go a-widin' wif you, " said Toddie. 

"And what _I_ want is, that you shall stay at home; so you must, " saidMrs. Burton. Let us have no more talk about it now. Shouldn't you liketo go into the garden and pick some strawberries all for yourself?"

"No; I'd like to go widin'. "

"Toddie, " said Mrs. Burton, "don't let me hear one more word aboutriding. "

"Well, I want to go. "

"Toddie, I will certainly have to punish you if you say any more on thissubject, and that will make me very unhappy. You don't want to makeauntie unhappy on her birthday, do you?"

"No; but I do want to go a-widin'. "

"Listen Toddie, " said Mrs. Burton, with an imperious stamp of her foot, and a sudden loss of her entire stock of patience. "If you say one moreword about that trip, I will lock you up in the attic chamber, where youwere day before yesterday, and Budge shall not be with you. "

[Illustration: TODDIE SUDDENLY FOUND HIMSELF CLASPED TIGHTLY IN HISAUNT'S ARMS, IN WHICH POSITION HE KICKED, PUSHED, SCREAMED, AND ROARED, DURING THE PASSAGE OF TWO FLIGHTS OF STAIRS. ]

Toddie gave vent to a perfect torrent of tears, and screamed:

"A--h--h--h! I don't want to be locked up, an' I do want to goa-widin'. "

Toddie suddenly found himself clasped tightly in his aunt's arms, inwhich position he kicked, pushed, screamed, and roared, during thepassage of two flights of stairs. The moment of his final incarcerationwas marked by a piercing shriek which escaped from the attic window, causing the dog Jerry to retire precipitately from a pleasinglounging-place on the well-curb, and making a passing farmer to rein uphis horses, and maintain a listening position for the space of fiveminutes. Meanwhile Mrs. Burton descended to the parlor, more flushed, untidy and angry than one had ever before seen her. She soon encounteredthe gaze of her nephew Budge, and it was so full of solemnity that Mrs. Burton's anger departed in an instant. 

"How would _you_ like to be carried up-stairs screamin' an' put in alonely room, just 'cause you wanted to go riding?" asked Budge. 

Mrs. Burton was unable to imagine herself in any such position, butreplied:

"I should never be so foolish as to keep on wanting what I knew I couldnot have. "

"Why!" exclaimed Budge. "Are grown folks as smart, as all that?"

Mrs. Burton's conscience smote her not over-lightly, and she hastened tochange the subject, and to devote herself assiduously to Budge, as if toatone for some injury which she might have done to his brother. Anoccasional howl which fell from the attic-window increased her zeal forBudge's comfort. Under each one, however, her resolution grew weaker, and finally, with a hypocritical excuse to Budge, Mrs. Burton hurried upto the door of Toddie's prison, and said through the keyhole:

"Toddie?"

"What?" said Toddie. 

"Will you be a good-boy, now!"

"Yesh, if you'll take me a-widin'. "

Mrs. Burton turned abruptly away, and simply flew down the stairs. Budge, who awaited her at the foot, instinctively stood aside, andexclaimed:

"My! I thought you was goin' to tumble! Why didn't you bring him down?"

"Bring who?" asked Mrs. Burton, indignantly. 

"Oh, _I_ know what you went up-stairs for?" said Budge. "Your eyes toldme all about it. "

"You're certainly a rather inconvenient companion, " said Mrs. Burton, averting her face, "and I want you to run home and ask how your mammaand baby-sister are. Don't stay long; remember that lunch will beearlier than usual to-day. "

Away went Budge, and Mrs. Burton devoted herself to thought andself-questioning. Unquestioning obedience had been her own duty sinceshe could remember, yet she was certain that her will was as strong asToddie's. If she had been always able to obey, certainly the unhappylittle boy in the attic was equally capable--why should he not do it?Perhaps, she admitted to herself, she had inherited a faculty in thisdirection, and perhaps--yes, certainly, Toddie had done nothing of thesort. How was she to overcome the defect in his disposition; or was sheto do it at all? Was it not something with which no one temporarilyhaving a child in charge should interfere? As she pondered, anoccasional scream from Toddie helped to unbend the severity of herprinciples, but suddenly her eye rested upon a picture of her husband, and she seemed to see in one of the eyes a quizzical expression. All herdetermination came back in an instant with heavy reinforcements, andBudge came back a few minutes later. His bulletins from home, and hisstores of experiences _en route_ consumed but a few moments, and thenMrs. Burton proceeded to dress for her ride. To exclude Toddie's screamsshe closed her door tightly, but Toddie's voice was one with which alltimber seemed in sympathy, and it pierced door and window apparentlywithout effort. Gradually, however, it seemed to cease, and with thegrowing infrequency of his howls and the increasing feebleness of theirutterance, Mrs. Burton's spirits revived. Dressing leisurely, sheascended Toddie's prison to receive his declaration of penitence and toaccord a gracious pardon. She knocked softly at the door, and said:

"Toddie?"

There was no response, so Mrs. Burton knocked and called with moreenergy than before, but without reply. A terrible fear occurred to her!she had heard of children who screamed themselves to death when angry. Hastily she opened the door, and saw Toddie tear-stained and dirty, lying on the floor, fast asleep. She stooped over him to be sure that hestill breathed, and then the expression on his sweetly parted lips wassuch that she could not help kissing them. Then she raised the pathetic, desolate little figure softly in her arms, and the little head droppedupon her shoulder and nestled close to her neck, and one little arm wasclasped tightly around her throat, and a soft voice murmured:

"I wantsh to go a'widin'. "

And just then Mr. Burton entered, and, with a most exasperatingaffection of ingenuousness and uncertainty, asked:

"Did you conquer his will, my dear?"

His wife annihilated him with a look, and led the way to thedining-room; meanwhile Toddie awoke, straightened himself, rubbed hiseyes, recognized his uncle and exclaimed:

"Uncle Harry, does you know where we's goin' this afternoon? We's goin'a-widin'. "

And Mr. Burton hid in his napkin all of his face that was below hiseyes, and his wife wished that his eyes might have been hidden, too, fornever in her life had she been so averse to having her own eyes lookedinto. 

The extreme saintliness of both boys during the afternoon's ride tookthe sting out of Mrs. Burton's defeat. They gabbled to each other aboutflowers and leaves and birds, and they assumed ownership of the fewSummer clouds that were visible, and made sundry exchanges of them witheach. When the dog Jerry, who had surreptitiously followed the carriageand grown weary, was taken in by his master, they even allowed him tolie at their feet without kicking, pinching his ears, or pulling histail. 

As for Mrs. Burton, no right-minded husband could willfully torment hiswife upon her birthday, so she soon forgot the humiliation of themorning, and came home with superb spirits and matchless complexion forthe little party. Her guests soon began to arrive, and after the companywas assembled Mrs. Burton's chambermaid ushered in Budge and Toddie, each in spotless attire, and the dog Jerry ushered himself in, andToddie saw him and made haste to interview him, and the two gotinextricably mixed about the legs of a light _jardiniere_, and it camedown with a crash, and then the two were sent into disgrace, whichsuited them exactly; although there was a difference between them as towhether the dog Jerry should seek and enjoy the seclusion upon which hisheart was evidently intent. 

Then Budge retired with a face full of fatherly solicitude, and Mrs. Burton was enabled to devote herself to the friends to whom she had notpreviously been able to address a single consecutive sentence. 

Mrs. Burton occasionally suggested to her husband that it might be wellto see where the boys were, and what they were doing; but that gentlemanhad seldom before found himself the only man among a dozen comely andintelligent ladies, and he was too conscious of the variety of suchexperiences to trouble himself about a couple of people who hadunlimited ability to keep themselves out of trouble; so the boys wereundisturbed for the space of two hours. A sudden Summer shower came upin the meantime, and a sentimental young lady requested the song "Rainupon the Roof, " and Mrs. Burton and her husband began to render it as aduet; but in the middle of the second stanza Mrs. Burton began tocough, Mr. Burton sniffed the air apprehensively, while several of theladies started to their feet while others turned pale. The air of theroom was evidently filled with smoke. 

"There can't be any danger, ladies, " said Mrs. Burton. "You all knowwhat the American domestic servant is. I suppose our cook, with herdelicate sense of the appropriate, is relighting her fire, and has thekitchen doors wide open, so that all the smoke may escape through thehouse instead of the chimney. I'll go and stop it. "

The mere mention of servants had its usual effect; the ladies began atonce that animated conversation which this subject has always inspired, and which it will probably continue to inspire until all housekeepersgather in that happy land, one of whose charms it is that the Americankitchen is undiscernible within its borders, and the purified domesticmay stand before her mistress without needing a scolding. But onenervous young lady, whose agitation was being manifested by her feetalone, happened to touch with the toe of her boot the turn-screw of thehot-air register. Instantly she sprang back and uttered a piercingscream, while from the register there arose a thick column of smoke. 

"Fire!" screamed one lady. 

"Water!" shrieked another. 

"Oh!" shouted several in chorus. 

Some ran up-stairs, others into the rainy street, the nervous young ladyfainted, a business-like young matron, who had for years been maturingplans of operation in case of fire, hastily swept into a table-cover adozen books in special morocco bindings, and hurried through the rainwith them to a house several hundred feet away, while the faithful dogJerry, scenting the trouble afar off, hurried home and did his duty tothe best of his ability by barking and snapping furiously at every one, and galloping frantically through the house, leaving his mark uponalmost every square yard of the carpet. Meanwhile Mr. Burton hurriedup-stairs coatless, with disarranged hair, dirty hands, smirched face, and assured the ladies that there was no danger, while Budge and Toddie, the former deadly pale, and the latter almost apoplectic in color, sneaked up to their own chamber. 

The company dispersed: ladies who had expected carriages did not waitfor them, but struggled to the extreme verge of politeness for the useof such umbrellas and waterproof-cloaks as Mrs. Burton could supply. Fifteen minutes later the only occupant of the parlor was the dog Jerry, who lay, with alert head, in the centre of a large "Turkish chair. Mrs. Burton, tenderly supported by her husband, descended the stair, andcontemplated with tightly compressed lips and blazing eyes the disorderof her desolated parlor. When, however, she reached the dining-room andbeheld the exquisitely-set lunch-table, to the arrangement of which shehad devoted hours of thought in preceding days and weeks, she burst intoa flood of tears. 

"I'll tell you how it was, " remarked Budge, who appeared suddenly andwithout invitation, and whose consciousness of good intention made himas adamant before the indignant frowns of his uncle and aunt, "_I_always think bonfires is the nicest things about celebrations, an' Todan' me have been carryin' sticks for two days to make a big bonfire inthe back yard to-day. But then it rained, an' rainy sticks won't burn--I_guess_ we found that out last Thanksgivin' Day. So we thought we'd makeone in the cellar, 'cause the top is all tin, an' the bottom's all dirt, an' it can't rain in there at all. An' we got lots of newspapers andkindlin'-wood, an' put some kerosene on it, an' it blazed up beautiful, an' we was just comin' up to ask you all down to look at it, when incame Uncle Harry, an' banged me against the wall an' Tod into thecoal-heap, an' threw a mean old dirty carpet on top of it, an' wet'ed itall over. "

"Little boysh never _can_ do anyfing nysh wivout bein' made to don't, "said Toddie. "Dzust see what an awful big splinter I got in my hand whenI was froin' wood on the fire! I didn't cry a _bit_ about it then, 'cause I fought I was makin' uvver folks happy, like the Lord wantslittle boysh to. But they didn't _get_ happy, so now I _am_ goin' to cry'bout the splinter!"

And Toddie raised a howl which was as much superior to his usual cry asthings made to order generally are over the ordinary supply. 

"We had a torchlight procession, too, " said Budge. "We had to have it inthe attic, but it wasn't very nice. There wasn't any trees up there forthe light to dance around on, like it does on 'lection-day nights. So wejust stopped, an' would have felt real doleful if we hadn't thought ofthe bonfire. "

"Where did you leave the torches?" asked Mr. Burton, springing from hischair, and lifting his wife to her feet at the same time. 

"I--I dunno, " said Budge, after a moment of thought. 

"Froed 'em in a closet where the rags is, so's not to dyty the nicefloor wif 'em, " said Toddie. 

Mr. Burton hurried up-stairs and extinguished a smoldering heap of rags, while his wife, truer to herself than she imagined she was, drew Budgeto her, and said, kindly:

"_Wanting_ to make people happy, and _doing_ it are two very differentthings, Budge. "

"Yes, I should think they was, " said Budge, with an emphasis whichexplained much that was left unsaid. 

"Little boysh is goosies for tryin' to make big folksh happy at all, "said Toddie, beginning again to cry. 

"Oh, no, they're not, dear, " said Mrs. Burton, taking the sorrowfulchild into her lap. "But they don't always understand how best to do it, so they ought to ask big folks before they begin. "

"Then there wouldn't be no s'prises, " complained Toddie. "Say; izh wegoin' to eat all this supper?"

"I suppose so, if we can, " sighed Mrs. Burton. 

"I _guesh_ we can--Budgie an' me, " said Toddie. "An' _won't_ we be gladall them wimmens wented away!"

That evening, after the boys had retired, Mrs. Burton seemed a littleuneasy of mind, and at length she said to her husband:

"I feel guilty at never having directed the boys' devotions since theyhave been here, and I know no better time than the present in which tobegin. "

Mr. Burton's eyes followed his wife reverently as she left the room. Theservice she proposed to render the children she had sometimes performedfor himself, with results for which he could not be grateful enough, andyet it was not with unalloyed anticipation that he softly followed herup the stair. Mrs. Burton went into the chamber and found the boysplaying battering-ram, each with a pillow in front of him. 

"Children, " said she, "have you said your prayers?"

"No, " said Budge; "somebody's got to be knocked down first. _Then_ wewill. "

A sudden tumble by Toddie was the signal for devotional exercises, andboth boys knelt beside the bed. 

"Now, darlings, " said Mrs. Burton, "you have made some sad mistakesto-day, and they should teach you that, even when you want most to doright, you need to be helped by somebody better. Don't you think so?"

"_I_ do, " said Budge. "Lots. "

"_I_ don't, " said Toddie. "More help I getsh, the worse fings is. GueshI'll do fings all alone affer thish. "

"I know what to say to the Lord to-night, Aunt Alice, " said Budge. 

"_Dear_ little boy, " said Mrs. Burton, "go on. "

"Dear Lord, " said Budge, "we _do_ have the _awfullest_ times when we tryto make other folks happy. _Do_, please, Lord--please teach big folkshow hard little folks have to think before they do things for 'em. An'make 'em understand little folks _every_ way better than they do, sothat they don't make little folks unhappy when they try to make bigfolks feel jolly. Make big folks have to think as hard as little folksdo, for Christ's sake--Amen! Oh, yes, an' bless dear mamma an' thesweet little sister baby. How's that, Aunt Alice?"

Mrs. Burton did not reply, and Budge, on turning, saw only her departingfigure, while Toddie remarked:

"Now, it's _my_ tyne (turn. ) Dear Lord, when I getsh to be a little boyanzel up in hebben, don't let growed-up anzels come along whenever I'mdoin' anyfing nice for 'em, an' say '_don't_, ' or tumble me down inheaps of nashty old black coal. _There_! Amen!"

It was with a sneaking sense of relief that Mrs. Burton awoke on thefollowing morning, and realized that the day was Sunday. Evenschoolteachers have two days of rest in every seven, thought Mrs. Burtonto herself, and no one doubts that they deserve them. How much moredeserving of rest and relief, then, must be the volunteer teacher who, not for a few hours only, but from dawn to twilight, has charge of twochildren whose capacity for both learning and mischief, surely equalsany school-full of boys? The realization that she was attempting, for afew days only, that which mothers everywhere were doing without hope ofrest excepting in heaven, made Mrs. Burton feel more humble andworthless than she had ever done in her life before, but it did notbanish her wish to turn the children over to the care of their uncle forthe day. If Mrs. Burton had been honest with herself she would haveadmitted that the principal cause of her anxiety for relief was herunwillingness to have her husband witness the failures which she hadcome to believe were to be her daily lot while trying to train hernephews. Thoughts of a Sunday excursion, from participation in which sheshould in some way excuse herself; of volunteering to relieve hersister-in-law's nurse during the day, and thus leaving her husband incharge of the house and the children; of making that visit to her motherwhich is always in order with the newly-made wife--all these, and otherdevices not so practicable, came before Mrs. Burton's mind's eye forcomparison, but they all and together took sudden wing when Mr. Burtonawoke and complained of a raging toothache. Truly pitiful andsympathetic as Mrs. Burton was, she exhibited remarkable resignation inthe face of the thought that her husband would probably need to remainin his room all day, and that it would be absolutely necessary to keepthe children out of his sight and hearing. Then he could find nothing tocriticise; she might fail as frequently as she probably would, but hewould know only of her successes. 

A light knock was heard at Mrs. Burton's door, and then, without waitingfor invitation, there came in two fresh, rosy faces, two heads ofdisarranged hair, and two long white nightgowns, and the occupant of thelonger gown exclaimed:

"Say, Uncle Harry, do you know it's Sunday? What are you going to doabout it? We always have lots done for us Sundays, 'cause it's the onlyday papa's home. "

"Yes, I--think I've heard--something of the kind--before, " mumbled Mr. Burton, with difficulty, between the fingers which covered his achingincisor. 

"Oh--h, " exclaimed Toddie, "I b'lieve he' goin' to play bear! Come on, Budge, we's got to be dogs. " And Toddie buried his face in thebed-covering and succeeded in fastening his teeth in his uncle's calf. Ahowl from the sufferer did not frighten off the amateur dog, and he wasfinally dislodged only by being clutched by the throat by his victim. 

"_That_ izhn't the way to play bear, " complained Toddie; "you ought tokeep on a-howlin' an' let me keep on a-bitin', an' then you give mepennies to stop--that's the way papa does. "

"_Can_ you see how Tom Lawrence can be so idiotic?" asked Mrs. Burton. 

"I suppose I could, " replied the gentleman, "if I hadn't such atoothache. "

"You poor old fellow!" said Mrs. Burton, tenderly. Then she turned toher nephews, and exclaimed: "Now, boys, listen to me! Uncle Harry isvery sick to-day--he has a dreadful toothache, and every particle ofbother and noise will make it worse. You must both keep away from hisroom, and be as quiet as possible wherever you may be in the house. Eventhe sound of people talking is very annoying to a person with thetoothache. "

"Then you's a baddy woman to stay in here an' keep a-talkin' all thewhole time, " said Toddie, "when it makes poor old Uncle Harry supper so. G'way. "

Mrs. Burton's lord and master was not in too much pain to shakeconsiderably with silent laughter over this unexpected rebuke, and thelady herself was too thoroughly startled to devise an appropriateretort; so the boys amused themselves by a general exploration of thechamber, not omitting even the pockets of their uncle's clothing. Thiswork completed, to the full extent of their ability, the boys demandedbreakfast. 

"Breakfast won't be ready until eight o'clock, " said Mrs. Burton, "andit is now only six. If you little boys don't want to feel dreadfullyhungry, you had better go back to bed, and lie as quiet as possible. "

"Is that the way not to be hungry?" asked Toddie, with wide-open eyes, which always accompany the receptive mind. 

"Certainly, " said Mrs. Burton. "If you run about, you agitate yourstomachs, and that makes them restless, and so you feel hungry. "

"Gwacious!" said Toddie. "What lots of fings little boys has got to lyne(learn), hazn't they? Come on, Budgie--let's go put our tummuks to bed, an' keep 'em from gettin' ajjerytated. "

"All right, " said Budge. "But say, Aunt Alice, don't you s'pose ourstomachs would be sleepier an' not so restless if there was somecrackers or bread an' butter in 'em?"

"There's no one down-stairs to get you any, " said Mrs. Burton. 

"Oh, " said Budge, "_we_ can find them. We know where everything is inthe pantries and store-room. "

"_I_ wish _I_ were so smart, " sighed Mrs Burton. "Go along--get what youwant--but don't come back to this room again. And don't let me findanything in disorder down-stairs, or I shall never trust you in mykitchen again. "

Away flew the children, but their disappearance only made room for a newtorment, for Mr. Burton stopped in the middle of the operation ofshaving himself, and remarked:

"I've been longing for Sunday to come, for your sake, my dear. The boys, as you have frequently observed, have very strange notions about holythings; but they are also, by nature, quite religious and spirituallyminded. _You_ are not only this latter, but you are free from strangedoctrines and the traditions of men. The mystical influences of the daywill make themselves felt upon those innocent little hearts, and youwill have the opportunity to correct wrong teachings and instil newsentiments and truths. "

Mr. Burton's voice had grown a little shaky as he reached the close ofthis neat and reverential speech, so that his wife scrutinized his faceclosely to see if there might not be a laugh somewhere about it. Afriendly coating of lather protected one cheek, however, and thetroublesome tooth had distorted the shape of the other, so Mrs. Burtonwas compelled to accept the mingled ascription of praise andresponsibility, which she did with a sinking heart. 

"I'll take care of them while you're at church, my dear, " said Mr. Burton; "they're always saintly with sick people. "

Mrs. Burton breathed a sigh of relief. She determined that she wouldextemporize a special "Children's service" immediately after breakfast, and impress her nephews as fully as possible with the spirit of the day;then if her husband would but continue the good work thus begun, itwould be impossible for the boys to fall from grace in the few hourswhich remained between dinner-time and darkness. Full of her project, and forgetting that she had allowed her chambermaid to go to early Massand promised herself to see that the children were dressed forbreakfast, Mrs. Burton, at the breakfast-table, noticed that her nephewsdid not respond with their usual alacrity to the call of the bell. Recalling her forgotten duty, she hurried to the boys' chamber, andfound them already enjoying a repast which was remarkable at least forvariety. On a small table, drawn to the side of the bed, was a pie, abowl of pickles, a dish of honey in the comb, and a small paper packageof cinnamon bark, and, with spoons, knives and forks and fingers, theboys were helping themselves alternately to these delicacies. Seeing hisaunt, Toddie looked rather guilty, but Budge displayed the smile of thefully justified, and remarked:

"Now, you know what kind of meals little boys like, Aunt Alice. I hopeyou won't forget it while we're here. "

"What do you mean!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, sternly, "by bringing suchthings up-stairs?"

"Why, " said Budge, "you told us to get what we wanted, an' we supposedyou told the troof. "

"An' I ain't azh hungry azh I wazh, " remarked Toddie, "but my tummukfeels as if it growed big and got little again, every minute or two, an'it hurts. I wishes we could put tummuks away when we get done usin' 'em, like we do hats an' overshoes. "

To sweep the remains of the unique morning lunch into a heap and awayfrom her nephews, was a work which occupied but a second or two of Mrs. Burton's time; this done, two little boys found themselves robed morerapidly than they had ever before been. Arrived at the breakfast-table, they eyed with withering contempt an irreproachable cutlet, somecrisp-brown potatoes of wafer-like thinness, and a heap of rolls almostas light as snowflakes. 

"_We_ don't want done of _this_ kind of breakfast, " said Budge. 

"Of course we don't, " said Toddie, "when we's so awful full of uvverfings. I don't know where I'zhe goin' to put my _dinner_ when it comestime to eat it. "

"Don't fret about _that_, Tod, " said Budge. "Don't you know papa saysthat the Bible says something that means 'don't worry till you haveto. '"

Mrs. Burton raised her eyebrows with horror not unmixed with inquiry, and her husband hastened to give Budge's sentiment its proper Biblicalwording. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. " Mrs. Burton'swonder was allayed by the explanation, although her horror was not, andshe made haste to say:

"Boys, we will have a little Sunday-school, all by ourselves, in theparlor, immediately after breakfast. "

"Hooray!" shouted Budge. "An' will you give us a ticket an' pass arounda box for pennies, just like they do in _big_ Sunday-schools?"

"I--suppose so, " said Mrs. Burton, who had not previously thought ofthese special attractions of the successful Sunday-school. 

"Let's go right in, Tod, " said Budge, "'cause the dog's in there. I sawhim as I came down, and I shut all the doors, so he couldn't get out. Wecan have some fun with him 'fore Sunday-school begins. "

Both boys started for the parlor-door, and, guided by that marvelousinstinct with which Providence arms the few against the many, and theweak against the strong, the dog Jerry also approached the door from theinside. As the door opened, there was heard a convulsive howl, and ageneral tumbling of small boys, while at almost the same instant the dogJerry flew into the dining-room and hid himself in the folds of hismistress's morning-robe. Two or three minutes later Budge entered thedining-room with a very rueful countenance, and remarked:

"I guess we need that Sunday-school pretty quick, Aunt Alice. The dogdon't want to play with us, and we ought to be comforted some way. "

"They're grown people, all over again, " remarked Mr. Burton, with alaugh. 

"What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Burton. 

[Illustration: TODDIE LOOKED RATHER GUILTY, BUT BUDGE DISPLAYED THESMILE OF THE FULLY JUSTIFIED, AND REMARKED: "NOW YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OFMEALS LITTLE BOYS LIKE, AUNT ALICE. "]

"Only this--that when their own devices fail, they're in a hurry forthe consolations of religion, " said Mr. Burton. "May I visit theSunday-school?"

"I suppose I can't keep you away, " sighed Mrs. Burton, leading the wayto the parlor. "Boys, " said she, greeting her nephews, "first, we'llsing a little hymn; what shall it be?"

"Ole Uncle Ned, " said Toddie, promptly. 

"Oh, that's not a Sunday song, " said Mrs. Burton. 

"_I_ fink tizh, " said Toddie, "'cause it sayzh, free or four timezh, 'He's gone where de good niggers go, ' an' that's _hebben_, you know; soit's a Sunday song. "

"_I_ think 'Glory, glory, hallelujah!' is nicer, " said Budge, "an' Iknow _that's_ a Sunday song, 'cause I've heard it in church. "

"Aw wight, " said Toddie; and he immediately started the old air himself, with the words, "There liezh the whisky-bottle, empty on the sheff, " butwas suddenly brought to order by a shake from his aunt, while his uncledanced about the front parlor in an ecstasy not directly traceable totoothache. 

"That's not a Sunday song either, Toddie, " said Mrs. Burton. "The wordsare real rowdyish. Where did you learn them?"

"Round the corner from our housh, " said Toddie, "an' you can shing yourole shongs yourseff, if you don't like mine. "

Mrs. Burton went to the piano, rambled among chords for a few seconds, and finally recalled a Sunday-school air in which Toddie joined asangelically as if his own musical taste had never been impugned. 

"Now I guess we'd better take up the collection before any little boyslose their pennies, " said Budge, hurrying to the dining-room, andreturning with a strawberry-box which seemed to have been speciallyprovided for the occasion; this he passed gravely before Toddie, andToddie held his hand over it as carefully as if he were depositinghundreds, and then Toddie took the box and passed it before Budge, whomade the same dumb show, after which Budge retook the box, shook it, listened, and remarked, "It don't rattle--I guess it's all paper-money, to-day, " placed it upon the mantel, reseated himself, and remarked:

"_Now_ bring on your lesson. "

Mrs. Burton opened her Bible with a sense of utter helplessness. Withthe natural instinct of a person given to thoroughness, she opened atthe beginning of the book, but she speedily closed it again--the firstchapter of Genesis had suggested many a puzzling question even to herorthodox mind. Turning the leaves rapidly, passing, for conscience sake, the record of many a battle, the details of which would have delightedthe boys, and hurrying by the prophecies as records not for the minds ofchildren, she at last reached the New Testament, and the ever-new storyof the only boy who ever was all that his parents and relatives couldwish him to be. 

"The lesson will be about Jesus, " said Mrs. Burton. "

"Little-boy Jesus or big-man Jesus?" asked Toddie. 

"A--a--both, " replied the teacher, in some confusion. 

"Aw wight, " said Toddie. "G'won. "

"There was once a time when all the world was in trouble, withoutknowing exactly why, " said Mrs. Burton; "but the Lord understood it, forHe understands everything. "

"Does He knows how it feels to be a little boy?" asked Toddie, "an' besent to bed when He don't want to go?"

"And He determined to comfort the world, as He always does when theworld finds out it can't comfort itself, " continued Mrs. Burton, entirely ignoring her nephew's questions. 

"But wasn't there lotzh of little boyzh then?" asked Toddie, "an' didn'tthey used to be comforted as well as big folks?"

"I suppose so, " said Mrs. Burton. "But He knew if He comforted grownpeople, they would make the children happy. "

"I wiss He'd comfort you an' Uncle Harry every mornin', then, " saidToddie. "G'won. "

"So He sent His own Son--his only Son--down to the world to be a dearlittle baby. "

"_I_ should think He'd have made Him a _sister_ baby, " said Budge, "ifHe'd wanted to make everybody happy. "

"He knew best, " said Mrs. Burton. "And while smart people everywherewere wondering what would or could happen to quiet the restless heart ofpeople--"

"Izh restless hearts like restless tummuks?" interrupted Toddie. "Kindo' limpy an' wabbley?"

"I suppose so, " said Mrs. Burton. 

"_Poor_ folks, " said Toddie clasping, his hands over his waistband:"Izhe sorry for 'em. "

"While smart folks were trying to think out what should be done, "continued Mrs. Burton, "some simple shepherds, who used to sit around atnight under the moon and stars, and wonder about things which they couldnot understand, saw a wonderfully bright star up in the sky. "

"Was it one of the twinkle-twinkle kind, or one of the stand-stillkind?" asked Toddie. 

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Burton, after a moment's reflection. "Why doyou ask?"

"'Cauzh, " said Toddie, "I know what 'twazh there for, an' it ought tohave twinkled, 'cauzh twinkley star bobs open and shut that way 'cauzhthey're laughin' and can't keep still, an' I know I'd have laughed ifI'd been a star an' was goin' to make a lot of folks so awful happy. G'won. "

"Then, " said Mrs. Burton, looking alternately and frequently at the twoaccounts of the Advent, "they suddenly saw an angel, and the shepherdswere afraid. "

"Should fink they _would_ be, " said Toddie. "Everybody gets afraid whenthey see good people around. I 'spec' they thought the angel would say'don't!' in about a minute. "

"But the angel told them not to be afraid, " said Mrs. Burton, "for hehad come to bring good news. There was to be a dear little baby born atBethlehem, and He would make everybody happy. "

"_Wouldn't_ it be nice if that angel would come an' do it all overagain?" said Budge. "Only he ought to pick out little boys instead ofsheep fellows. _I_ wouldn't be afraid of an angel. "

"Neiver would I, " said Toddie, "but I dzust go round behind him an' seehow his wings was fastened on. "

"Then a great many other angels came, " said Mrs. Burton, "and they allsang and sang together. The poor shepherds didn't know what to make ofit, but after the singing was over, they all started for Bethlehem, tosee that wonderful baby. "

"Just like the other day we went to see the sister-baby. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Burton; but instead of finding Him in a pleasant homeand a nice room, with careful friends and nurses around Him, He was in amanger out in a stable. "

"That was 'cause he was so smart that He could do just what He wantedto, an' be just where he liked, " said Budge, "an' He was a little boy, an' little boys always like stables better than houses--I wish _I_ couldlive in a stable always an' for ever. "

"So do I, " said Toddie, "an' sleep in mangers, 'cauzh then the horseswould kick anybody that made me put on clean clothezh when I didn't wantto. They gaveded him presentsh, didn't they?"

"Yes, " said Mrs. Burton; "gold, frankincense, and myrrh. "

"Why didn't they give him rattles and squealey-balls, like folks didbudder Phillie when _he_ was a baby, " asked Toddie. 

"Because, Toddie, " said Mrs. Burton, glad of an opportunity to get thesentiment of the story into her own hands, from which it had departedvery early in the course of the lesson--"because He was no common baby, like other children. He was the Lord. "

"What! The Lord once a dear little baby?" exclaimed Toddie. 

"Yes, " replied Mrs. Burton, shuddering to realize that Toddie had notbefore been taught of the nature of the Holy Trinity. 

"An' played around like uvver little boysh?" continued Toddie. 

"I--I--suppose so, " said Mrs. Burton, fearing lest in trying to instillreverence into her nephews, she herself might prove irreverent. 

"Did somebody say 'Don't' at _Him_ every time he did anyfing?" continuedToddie. 

"N--n--n--o! I imagine not, " said Mrs. Burton, "because he was alwaysgood. "

"_That_ don't make any diffwelence, " said Toddie. "The better a littleboy triesh to be, the more folks say 'Don't' to him. So I guesh nobodyhad any time to say anyfing elsh at all to Jesus. "

"What did He do next?" asked Budge, as deeply interested as if he hadnot heard the same story many times before. 

"He grew strong in body and spirit, " said Mrs. Burton, "and everybodyloved Him; but before He had time to do all that, an angel came andfrightened His papa in a dream, and told him that the king of thatcountry would kill little Jesus if he could find Him. So Joseph, thepapa of Jesus, and Mary, His mamma, got up in the middle of the night, and started off to Egypt. "

"Seems to me that Egypt was 'bout as bad in those days as Europe isnow, " remarked Budge. "Whenever papa tells about anybody that nobody canfind, he says, 'Gone to Europe, I s'pose. ' What did they find when theygot there?"

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Burton, musing. "I suppose the papa workedhard for money to buy good food and comfortable resting-places for hiswife and baby; and I suppose the mamma walked about the fields, andpicked pretty flowers for her baby to play with; and I suppose the babycooed when His mamma gave them to Him, and laughed and danced andplayed, and then got tired, and came and hid His little face in Hismamma's lap, and was taken into her arms and held ever so tight, andfell asleep, and that His mother looked into His face as if she wouldlook through it, while she tried to find out what her baby would be anddo when He grew up, and whether He would be taken away from _her_, whileit seemed as if she couldn't live at all without having Him very closelypressed to her breast and--"

Mrs. Burton's voice grew a little shaky, and, finally, failed herentirely. Budge came in front of her, scrutinized her intently, but withgreat sympathy, also, and, finally, leaned his elbows on her knees, dropped his face into his own hands, looked up into her face, andremarked:

"Why, Aunt Alice, she was just like _my_ mamma, wasn't she? An' I think_you_ are just like both of 'em!"

Mrs. Burton took Budge hastily into her arms, covered his face withkisses, and totally destroyed another chance of explaining thedifference between the earthly and the heavenly to her pupils, whileToddie eyed the couple with evident disfavor, and remarked:

"_I_ fink 'twould be nicer if you'd see if dinner was bein' got ready, instead of stoppin' tellin' stories an' huggin' Budge. My tummuk's allgotted little again. "

Mrs. Burton came back to the world of to-day from that of history, though not without a sigh, while the dog Jerry, who had divined thepeaceful nature of the occasion so far as to feel justified in recliningbeneath his mistress's chair, now contracted himself into the smallestpossible space, slunk out of the doorway, and took a lively quickstep inthe direction of the shrubbery. Toddie had seen him, however, and toldthe news to Budge, and both boys were soon in pursuit; noticing whichthe dog Jerry speedily betook himself to that distant retirement whichthe dog who has experience in small boys knows so well how to discoverand maintain. 

As the morning wore on, the boys grew restless, fought, drummed on thepiano, snarled when that instrument was closed, meddled with everythingthat was within reach, and finally grew so troublesome that their auntsoon felt that to lose was cheaper than to save, so she left the houseto the children, and sought the side of the lounge upon which herafflicted husband reclined. The divining sense of childhood soon foundher out, however, and Budge remarked:

"Aunt Alice, if you're going to church, seems to me it's time you wasgetting ready. "

"I can't go to church, Budge, " sighed Mrs. Burton. "If I do, you boyswill only turn the whole house upside down, and drive your poor unclenearly crazy. "

"No, we won't, " said Budge. "You don't know what nice nurses we can beto sick people. _Papa_ says nobody can even _imagine_ how well we cantake care of anybody until they see us do it. If you don't believe it, just leave us with Uncle Harry, an' stay home from church an' peekthrough the key-hole. "

"Go on, Allie, " said Mr. Burton. "If you want to go to church, don't beafraid to leave me. I think you _should_ go--after your experience ofthis morning. I shouldn't think your mind could be at peace until youhad joined your voice with that of the great congregation, andacknowledged yourself to be a miserable sinner. "

Mrs. Burton winced, but nevertheless retired, and soon appeared dressedfor church, kissed her husband and her nephews, gave many lastinstructions, and departed. Budge followed her with his eye until shehad stepped from the piazza, and then remarked, with a sigh of relief:

"_Now_ I guess we'll have what papa calls a good, old-fashionedtime--we've got rid of _her_. "

"Budge!" exclaimed Mr. Burton, sternly, and springing to his feet, "doyou know who you are talking about? Don't you know that your Aunt Aliceis my wife, and that she has saved you from many a scolding, done youmany a favor, and been your best friend?"

"Oh, yes, " said Budge, with at least a dozen inflections on each word, "but ev'ry day friends an' Sunday friends are kind o' different; don'tyou think so? _She_ can't make whistles, or catch bull-frogs, or carryboth of us up the mountain on her shoulders, or sing 'Roll, Jordan. '"

"And do you expect _me_ to do all these things to-day?" asked Mr. Burton. 

"N--n--no, " said Budge, "unless you should get well an' feel just likeit; but we'd like to be with somebody who _could_ do 'em if he wantedto. We like ladies that's _all_ ladies, but then we like men that's allmen, too. Aunt Alice is a good deal like an angel, I think, and you--you_ain't_. An' we don't want to be with angels all the time until we'reangels ourselves. "

Mr. Burton turned over suddenly and contemplated the back of the loungeat this honest avowal of one of humanity's prominent weaknesses, whileBudge continued:

"We don't want _you_ to get to be an angel, so what I want to know is, how to make you well. Don't you think if I borrowed papa's horse andcarriage an' took you ridin' you'd feel better? I know he'd lend 'em tome if I told him you were goin' to drive. "

"And if you said you were going with me to take care of me?" suggestedMr. Burton. 

"Y--e--es, " said Budge, as hesitatingly as if such an idea had neveroccurred to him. "An' don't you think that up to the top of theHawksnest Rock an' out to Passaic Falls would be the nicest places for asick man to go? When you got tired of ridin' you could stop the carriagean' cut us a cane, or make us whistles, or find us pfingster apples (theseed-balls of the wild azalea), or even send us in swimming in a brooksomewhere if you got tired of us. "

"H'm!" grunted Mr. Burton. 

"An' you might take fings to eat wif you, " suggested Toddie, "an' whenyou got real tired and felt bad, you might stop and have a littlepicnic. I fink that would be dzust the fing for a man wif the toothache. And we could help you lotsh. "

"I'll see how I feel after dinner, " said Mr. Burton. "But what are yougoing to do for me between now and then, to make me feel better?"

"We tell you storiezh, " said Toddie. "_Them's_ what sick folks alwayzhlikesh. "

"Very well, " said Mr. Burton. "Begin right away. "

"Aw wight, " said Toddie. "Do you want a sad story or a d'zolly one?"

"Anything, " said Mr. Burton. "Men with the toothache can stand nearlyanything. Don't draw on your imagination _too_ hard. "

"Don't _never_ draw on madzinasuns, " said Toddie; "I only draws onslatesh. "

"Never mind; give us the story. "

"Well, " said Toddie, seating himself in a rocking-chair, and fixing hiseyes on the ceiling, "guesh I'll tell about AbrahammynIsaac. Onesh theLord told a man named Abraham to go up the mountain an' chop his littleboy's froat open an' burn him up on a naltar. So Abraham started to goto do it. An' he made his little boy Isaac, that he was going to chopand burn up carry the kindlin' wood he was goin' to set him a-fire wiz. An' I want to know if you fink that wazh very nysh of him?"

"Well, --no, " said Mr. Burton. 

"Tell you what, " said Budge, "you don't ever catch _me_ carryin' sticksup the mountain, even if my papa wants me to. "

"When they got up there, " said Toddie, "Abraham made a naltar an' putlittle Ikey on it, an' took a knife an' was goin' to chop his froatopen, when a andzel came out of hebben an' said: 'Stop a-doin' that. ' SoAbraham stopped, an' Ikey skooted; an' Abraham saw a sheep caught in thebushes, an' he caught _him_ an' killed him. He wasn't goin' to climb wayup a mountain to kill somebody an' not have his knife bluggy a bit. An'he burned the sheep up. An' then he went home again. "

"I'll bet you Isaac's mamma never knew what his papa wanted to do withhim, " said Budge, "or she'd never let her little boy go away in themornin'. Do you want to bet?"

"N--no, not on Sunday, I guess, " said Mr. Burton. "Now, suppose youlittle boys go out of doors and play for a while, while uncle tries toget a nap. "

The boys accepted the suggestion and disappeared. Half an hour later, asMrs. Burton was walking home from church under escort of old GeneralPorcupine, and enduring with saintly fortitude the general's complimentsupon her management of the children, there came screams of fear andanguish from the general's own grounds, which the couple were passing. 

"Who can that be?" exclaimed the general, his short hairs bristling likethe quills of his titular godfather. "_We_ have no children. "

"I--think I know the voices, " gasped Mrs. Burton, turning pale. 

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the general, with an accent which showed thathe was wishing the reverse of blessings upon souls less needy than hisown. "You don't mean--"

"Oh, I do!" said Mrs. Burton, wringing her hands. "Do hurry!"

The general puffed and snorted up his gravel walk and toward theshrubbery, behind which was a fish-pond, from which direction the soundcame. Mrs. Burton followed, in time to see her nephew Budge help hisbrother out of the pond, while the general tugged at a large crawfishwhich had fastened its claw upon Toddie's finger. The fish was game, but, with a mighty pull from the general, and a superhuman shriek fromToddie, the fish's claw and body parted company, and the general, stillholding the latter tightly, staggered backward, and himself fell intothe pond. 

"Ow--ow--ow!" howled Toddie, clasping the skirt of his aunt's mauve silkin a ruinous embrace, while the general floundered and snorted like awhale in dying agonies, and Budge laughed as merrily as if the wholescene had been provided especially for his entertainment. Mrs. Burtonhurried her nephews away, forgetting, in her mortification, to thank thegeneral for his service, and placing a hand over Toddie's mouth. 

"It hurts, " mumbled Toddie. 

"What did you touch the fish at all for?" asked Mrs. Burton. 

"It was a little baby-lobster, " sobbed Toddie; "an' I loves littlebabies--all kinds of 'em--an' I wanted to pet him. An' then I wanted togrop him. "

"Why didn't you do it, then?" demanded the lady. 

"'Cauze he wouldn't grop, " said Toddie; "he isn't all gropped yet. "

True enough, the claw of the fish still hung at Toddie's finger, andMrs. Burton spoiled a pair of four-button kids in detaching it, whileBudge continued to laugh. At length, however, mirth gave place tobrotherly love, and Budge tenderly remarked:

"Toddie, dear, don't you love Brother Budge?"

"Yesh, " sobbed Toddie. 

"Then you ought to be happy, " said Budge, "for you've made _him_ awfulhappy. If the fish hadn't caught you, the general couldn't have pulledhim off, an' then he wouldn't have tumbled into the pond, an' oh, my!--_didn't_ he splash bully!"

"Then _you's_ got to be bited with a fiss, " said Toddie, "an' make himtumble in again, for _me_ to laugh 'bout. "

"You're two naughty boys, " said Mrs. Burton. "Is this the way you takecare of your sick uncle?"

"_Did_ take care of him, " exclaimed Toddie; "told him a lovely Biblestory, an' you didn't, an' he wouldn't have had no Sunday at all if Ihadn't done it. An' we's goin' to take him widin' this afternoon. "

Mrs. Burton hurried home, but it seemed to her that she had never met somany inquiring acquaintances during so short a walk. Arrived at last, she ordered her nephews to their room, and flung herself in tearsbeside her husband, murmuring:

"Henry!"

And Mr. Burton, having viewed the ruined dress with the eye ofexperience, uttered the single word:

"Boys!"

"What am I to do with them?" asked the unhappy woman. 

Mr. Burton was an affectionate husband. He adored womankind, andsincerely bemoaned its special grievances; but he did not resist thetemptation to recall his wife's announcement of five days before, so hewhispered:

"Train them. "

Mrs. Burton's humiliation by her own lips was postponed by a heavyfootfall, which, by turning her face, she discovered was that of herbrother-in-law, Tom Lawrence, who remarked:

"Tender confidences, eh? Well, I'm sorry I intruded. There's nothinglike them if you want to be happy. But Helen's pretty well to-day, anddying to have her boys with her, and I'm even worse with a similarlonging. You can't spare them, I suppose?"

The peculiar way in which Tom Lawrence's eyes danced as he awaited areply would, at any other time, have roused all the defiance in AliceBurton's nature; but now, looking at the front of her beautiful dress, she only said:

"Why--I suppose--we _might_ spare them for an hour or two!"

"You poor, dear Spartan, " said Tom, with genuine sympathy, "you shall beat peace until their bedtime anyhow. "

And Mrs. Burton found occasion to rearrange the bandage on her husband'sface so as to whisper in his ear:

"Thank Heaven!"

SAILING UP STREAM. 

[_The following is quoted, by permission, from Mr. Habberton's popularbook_, "THE BARTON EXPERIMENT, " _published by_ G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, _NewYork_. ]

The superintendency of the Mississippi Valley Woolen Mills was aposition which exactly suited Fred Macdonald, and it gave him occasionfor the expenditure of whatever superfluous energy he found himselfpossessed of, yet it did not engross his entire attention. The facultywhich the busiest of young men have for finding time in which to presentthemselves, well clothed and unbusiness-like, to at least one youngwoman, is as remarkable and admirable as it is inexplicable. Theevenings which did not find Fred in Parson Wedgewell's parlor were fewindeed, and if, when he was with Esther, he did not talk quite assentimentally as he had done in the earlier days of his engagement, andif he talked business very frequently, the change did not seemdistasteful to the lady herself. For the business of which he talkedwas, in the main, a sort which loving women have for ages recognized asthe inevitable, and to which they have subjected themselves with aunanimity which deserves the gratitude of all humanity. Fred talked of acottage which he might enter without first knocking at the door, and ofa partnership which should be unlimited; if he learned, in the course ofsuccessive conversations, that even in partnerships of the most extremeorder many compromises are absolutely necessary, the lesson was onewhich improved his character in the ratio in which it abased his pride. The cottage grew as rapidly as the mill, and on his returns from varioustrips for machinery there came with Fred's freight certain packageswhich prevented their owner from appearing so completely the absorbedbusinessman which he flattered himself that he seemed. Then thepartnership was formed one evening in Parson Wedgewell's own church, inthe presence of a host of witnesses, Fred appearing as self-satisfiedand radiant as the gainer in such transactions always does, whileEsther's noble face and drooping eyes showed beyond doubt who it wasthat was the giver. 

As the weeks succeeded each other after the wedding, however, noacquaintance of the couple could wonder whether the gainer or the giverwas the happier. Fred improved rapidly, as the schoolboy improves; butEsther's graces were already of mature growth, and rejoiced in theiropportunity for development. Though she could not have explained how ithappened, she could not but notice that maidens regarded herwonderingly, wives contemplated her wistfully, frowns departed andsmiles appeared when she approached people who were usually consideredprosaic. Yet shadows sometimes stole over her face, when she looked atcertain of her old acquaintances, and the cause thereof soon took adevelopment which was anything but pleasing to her husband. 

"Fred, " said Esther one evening, "it makes me real unhappy sometimes tothink of the good wives there are who are not as happy as I am. I thinkof Mrs. Moshier and Mrs. Crayme, and the only reason that I can see is, their husbands drink. "

"I guess you're right, Ettie, " said Fred. "They didn't begin theirdomestic tyranny in advance, as _you_ did--bless you for it. "

"But why _don't_ their husbands stop?" asked Esther, too deeplyinterested in her subject to notice her husband's compliment. "They mustsee what they're doing, and how cruel it all is. "

"They're too far gone to stop; I suppose that's the reason, " said Fred. "It hasn't been easy work for _me_ to keep my promise, Ettie, and I'm ayoung man; Moshier and Crayme are middle-aged men, and liquor is simplynecessary to them. "

"That dreadful old Bunley wasn't too old to reform, it seems, " saidEsther. "Fred, I believe one reason is that no one has asked them tostop. See how good Harry Wainwright has been since he found that so manypeople were interested in him that day!"

"Ye--es, " drawled Fred, evidently with a suspicion of what was coming, and trying to change the subject by suddenly burying himself in hismemorandum-book. But this ruse did not succeed, for Esther crossed theroom to where Fred sat, placed her hands on his shoulders, and a kiss onhis forehead, and exclaimed:

"Fred, _you're_ the proper person to reform those two men!"

"Oh, Ettie, " groaned Fred, "you're entirely mistaken. Why, they'd laughright in my face, if they didn't get angry and knock me down. Reformerswant to be older men, better men, men like your father, for instance, ifpeople are to listen to them. "

"Father says they need to be men who understand the nature of those theyare talking to, " replied Esther; and you once told me that youunderstood Moshier and Crayme perfectly. "

"But just think of what they are, Ettie, " pleaded Fred. "Moshier is acontractor, and Crayme's a steamboat captain; _such_ men never reform, though they always are good fellows. Why, if I were to speak to eitherof them on the subject, they'd laugh in my face, or curse me. The onlyway I was able to make peace with them for stopping drinking myself, wasto say that I did it to please my wife. "

"Did they accept that as sufficient excuse?" asked Esther. 

"Yes, " said Fred reluctantly, and biting his lips over this slip of histongue. 

"Then you've set them a good example, and I can't believe its effectwill be lost, " said Esther. 

"I sincerely hope it won't, " said Fred, very willing to seem a reformerat heart, "nobody would be gladder than I to see those fellows withwives as happy as mine seems to be. "

"Then why don't you follow it up, Fred, dear, and make sure of yourhopes being realized? You can't imagine how much happier _I_ would be ifI could meet those dear women without feeling that I had to hide the joythat's so hard to keep to myself. "

The conversation continued with considerable strain to Fred'samiability; but his sophistry was no match for his wife's earnestness, and he was finally compelled to promise that he would make an appeal toCrayme, with whom he had a business engagement, on the arrival ofCrayme's boat, the _Excellence_. 

Before the whistles of the steamer were next heard, however, Estherlearned something of the sufferings of would-be reformers, and foundcause to wonder who was to endure most that Mrs. Crayme should have asober husband; for Fred was alternately cross, moody, abstracted, andinattentive, and even sullenly remarked at his breakfast-table onemorning that he shouldn't be sorry if the _Excellence_ were to blow up, and leave Mrs. Crayme to find her happiness in widowhood. But no suchluck befell the lady: the whistle-signals of the _Excellence_ were againheard in the river, and the nature of Fred's business with the captainmade it unadvisable for Fred to make an excuse for leaving the boatunvisited. 

It _did_ seem to Fred Macdonald as if everything conspired to make histask as hard as it could possibly be. Crayme was already under theinfluence of more liquor than was necessary to his well-being, and theboat carried as passengers a couple of men, who, though professionalgamblers, Crayme found very jolly company when they were not engaged intheir business calling. Besides, Captain Crayme was running against timewith an opposition boat which had just been put upon the river, and heappreciated the necessity of having the boat's bar well stocked andfreely opened to whoever along the river was influential in making ormarring the reputation of steamboats. Fred finally got the captain intohis own room, however, and made a freight contract so absent-mindedlythat the sagacious captain gained an immense advantage over him; then heacted so awkwardly, and looked so pale, that the captain suggestedchills, and prescribed brandy. Fred smiled feebly, and replied, "No, thank you, Sam; brandy's at the bottom of the trouble. I"--hereFred made a tremendous attempt to rally himself--"I want _you_ to swearoff, Sam. "

The astonishment of Captain Crayme was marked enough to be alarming atfirst; then the ludicrous feature of Fred's request struck him soforcibly that he burst into a laugh before whose greatness Fred trembledand shrank. 

"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed the captain, when he recovered his breath;"if that isn't the best thing I ever heard yet! The idea of a steamboatcaptain swearing off his whisky! Say, Fred, don't you want me to jointhe Church? I forgot that you'd married a preacher's daughter, or Iwouldn't have been so puzzled over your white face to-day. Sam Craymebrought down to cold water! Wouldn't the boys along the river get up asweet lot of names for me--the 'Cold-water Captain, ' 'Psalm-singingSammy!' and then, when an editor or any other visitor came aboard, _wouldn't_ I look the thing, hauling out glasses and a pitcher of water!Say, Fred, does your wife let you drink tea and coffee?"

"Sam!" exclaimed Fred, springing to his feet, "if you don't stopslanting at my wife, I'll knock you down. "

"Good!" said the captain, without exhibiting any signs of trepidation. "_Now_ you talk like yourself again. I beg your pardon, old fellow; youknow I was only joking, but it _is_ too funny. You'll have to take atrip or two with me again, though, and be reformed. "

"Not any, " said Fred, resuming his chair; "take your wife along, andreform yourself. "

"Look here, now, young man, " said the captain, "_you're_ cracking ontoo much steam. Honestly, Fred, I've kept a sharp eye on you for two orthree months, and I am right glad you can let whisky alone. I've seentimes when I wished I were in your boots; but steamboats can't be runwithout liquor, however it may be with woolen mills. "

"That's all nonsense, " said Fred. "You get trade because you run yourboat on time, charge fair prices, and deliver your freight in goodorder. Who gives you business because you drink and treat?"

The captain, being unable to recall any shipper of the class alluded toby Fred, changed his course. 

"'Tisn't so much that, " said he; "it's a question of reputation. Howwould I feel to go ashore at Pittsburgh or Louisville or Cincinnati, andrefuse to drink with anybody? Why, 'twould ruin me. It's different withyou who don't have to meet anybody but religious old farmers. Besides, you've just been married. "

"And you've been married for five years, " said Fred, with a sudden senseof help at hand. "How do you suppose _your_ wife feels?"

Captain Crayme's jollity subsided a little, but with only a littlehesitation he replied:

"Oh! she's used to it; she doesn't mind it. "

"You're the only person in town that thinks so, Sam, " said Fred. 

Captain Crayme got up and paced his little stateroom two or three times, with a face full of uncertainty. At last he replied:

"Well, between old friends, Fred, I don't think so very strongly myself. Hang it! I wish I'd been brought up a preacher, or something of thekind, so I wouldn't have had business ruining my chances of being theright sort of a family man. Emily _don't_ like my drinking, and I'vepromised to look up some other business; but 'tisn't easy to get out ofsteamboating when you've got a good boat and a first-rate trade. Onceshe felt so awfully about it that I _did_ swear off--don't tellanybody, for God's sake! but I did. I had to look out for my characteralong the river, though; so I swore off on the sly, and played sick. I'dgive my orders to the mates and clerks from my bed in here, and then I'dlock myself in, and read novels and the Bible to keep from thinking. 'Twas awful dry work all around; but 'whole hog or none' is _my_ style, you know. There was fun in it, though, to think of doing something thatno other captain on the river ever did. But thunder! by the time nightcame, I was so tired of loafing that I wrapped a blanket around my headand shoulders, like a Hoosier, sneaked out the outer door here, andwalked the guards, between towns; but I was so frightened for fear someone would know me that the walk did me more harm than good. And blue!why a whole cargo of indigo would have looked like a snowstorm alongsideof my feelings the second day; 'pon my word, Fred, I caught myselfcrying in the afternoon, just before dark, and I couldn't find out whatfor, either. I tell _you_ I was scared, and things got worse as timespun along; the dreams I had that night made me howl, and I felt worseyet when daylight came along again. Toward the next night I was justafraid to go to sleep; so I made up my mind to get well, go on duty, anddodge everybody that it seemed I ought to drink with. Why, the Lordbless your soul! the first time we shoved off from a town I walked up tothe bar just as I always did after leaving towns; the barkeeper set outmy particular bottle naturally enough, knowing nothing about my littlegame; I poured my couple of fingers, and dropped it down as innocent asa lamb before I knew what I was doing. By George! my boy, 'twaslike-opening the lock-gates; I was just heavenly gay before morning. There was one good thing about it, though--I never told Emily I wasgoing to swear off; I was going to surprise her, so I had thedisappointment all to myself. Maybe she isn't as happy as your wife; butwhatever else I've done, or not done, I've never lied to her. "

"It's a pity you hadn't promised _her_ then, before you tried yourexperiment, " said Fred. The captain shook his head gravely, and replied:

"I guess not; why, I'd have either killed somebody or killed myself ifI'd gone on a day or two longer. I s'pose I'd have got along better ifI'd had anybody to keep me company, or reason with me like aschoolmaster; but I hadn't. I didn't know anybody that I dared trustwith a secret like that. "

"_I_ hadn't reformed then, eh?" queried Fred. 

"You? why you're one of the very fellows I dodged! Just as I got aboardthe boat--I came down late, on purpose--I saw you out aft. I tell you, Iwas under my blankets, with a towel wrapped around my jaw, in about oneminute, and was just _a-praying_ that you hadn't seen me come aboard. "

Fred laughed, but his laughter soon made place for a look of tendersolicitude. The unexpected turn that had been reached in theconversation he had so dreaded, and the sympathy which had been awakenedin him by Crayme's confidence and openness, temporarily made of FredMacdonald a man with whom Fred himself had never before been acquainted. A sudden idea struck him. 

"Sam, " said he, "try it over again, and _I'll_ stay by you. I'll nurseyou, crack jokes, fight off the blues for you, keep your friends away. I'll even break your neck for you, if you like, seeing it's you, ifit'll keep you straight. "

"Will you, though?" said the captain, with a look of admiration, undisguised except by wonder. "You're the first friend I ever had, then. By thunder! how marrying Ettie Wedgewell _did_ improve you, Fred! But, "and the captain's face lengthened again, "there's a fellow's reputationto be considered, and where'll mine be after it gets around that I'vesworn off?"

"Reputation be hanged!" exclaimed Fred. "_Lose_ it, for your wife'ssake. Besides, you'll _make_ reputation instead of lose it: you'll be asfamous as the Red River Raft, or the Mammoth Cave--the only thing of thekind west of the Alleghanies. As for the boys, tell them I've bet you ahundred that you can't stay off your liquor for a year, and that, you'renot the man to take a dare. "

"_That_ sounds like business, " exclaimed the captain springing to hisfeet. 

"Let me draw up a pledge, " said Fred, eagerly, drawing, pen and inktoward him. 

"No, you don't, my boy, " said the captain, gently, and pushing Fred outof the room and upon the guards. "Emily shall do that. Belowthere!--Perkins, I've got to go uptown for an hour; see if you can'tpick up freight to pay laying-up expenses somehow. Fred, go home and getyour traps; 'How's the accepted time, ' as your father-in-law has dingedat me, many a Sunday, from the pulpit. "

As Sam Crayne strode toward the body of the town, his business instinctstook strong hold of his sentiments, in the manner natural alike tosaints and sinners, and he laid a plan of operations against whiskywhich was characterized by the apparent recklessness but actual prudencewhich makes for glory in steamboat captains, as it does in armycommanders. As was his custom in business, he first drove at full speedupon the greatest obstacles; so it came to pass he burst into his ownhouse, threw his arm around his wife with more than ordinary tenderness, and then looking into her eyes with a daring born of utter desperation, said:

"Emily, I came back to sign the strongest temperance-pledge that you canpossibly draw up; Fred Macdonald wanted to write out one, but I told himthat nobody but you should do it; you've earned the right to, poorgirl. " No such duty and surprise having ever before come hand-in-hand toMrs. Crayme, she acted as every true woman will imagine that she herselfwould have done under similar circumstances, and this action made it notso easy as it might otherwise have been to see just where the pen andink were, or to prevent the precious document, when completed, frombeing disfigured by peculiar blots which were neither fingermarks norink-spots, yet which in shape and size suggested both of theseindications of unneatness. Mrs. Crayme was not an adept at literarycomposition, and, being conscious of her own deficiency, she begged thata verbal pledge might be substituted; but her husband was firm. 

"A contract won't steer worth a cent unless it's in writing, Emily, "said he, looking over his wife's shoulder as she wrote. "Gracious, girl, you're making it too thin; _any_ greenhorn could sail right through thatand all around it. Here, let _me_ have it. " And Crayme wrote, dictatingaloud to himself as he did so, "And the--party--of the firstpart--hereby agrees to--do everything--else that the--spirit ofthis--agreement--seems to the party--of the second--part to--indicateor--imply. " This he read over to his wife, saying:

"That's the way we fix contracts that aren't ship-shape, Emily; asteamboat couldn't be run in any other way. " Then Crayme wrote at thefoot of the paper, "Sam Crayme, Capt. Str. _Excellence_" surveyed thedocument with evident pride, and handed it to his wife, saying:

"Now, you see, you've got me so I can't ever get out of it by trying tomake out that 'twas some other Sam Crayme that you reformed. "

"Oh husband!" said Mrs. Crayme, throwing her arms about the captain'sneck, "_don't_ talk in that dreadful business way! I'm too happy to bearit. I want to go with you on this trip. "

The captain shrank away from his wife's arms, and a cold perspirationstarted all over him as he exclaimed:

"Oh, don't, little girl! Wait till next trip. There's an unpleasant setof passengers aboard; the barometer points to rainy weather, so you'dhave to stay in the cabin all the time; our cook is sick, and his cubsserve up the most infernal messes; we're light of freight, and have gotto stop at every warehouse on the river, and the old boat'll be eithershrieking, or bumping, or blowing off steam the whole continual time. "

Mrs. Crayme's happiness had been frightening some of her years away, and her smile carried Sam himself back to his pre-marital period as shesaid:

"Never mind the rest; I see you don't want me to go, " and then shebecame Mrs. Crayme again as she said, pressing her face closely to herhusband's breast, "but I hope you won't get _any_ freight, _anywhere_, so you can get home all the sooner. "

Then the captain called on Dr. White, and announced such a collection ofsymptoms that the doctor grew alarmed, insisted on absolute quiet, andconveyed Crayme in his own carriage to the boat, saw him into his berth, and gave to Fred Macdonald a multitude of directions and cautions, thesober recording of which upon paper was of great service in saving Fredfrom suffering over the Quixotic aspect which the whole project hadbegun, in his mind, to take on. He felt ashamed even to look squarelyinto Crayme's eye, and his mind was greatly relieved when the captainturned his face to the wall and exclaimed:

"Fred, for goodness' sake get out of here; I feel enough like a babynow, without having a nurse alongside. I'll do well enough for a fewhours; just look in once in a while. "

During the first day of the trip, Crayme made no trouble for himself orFred; under the friendly shelter of night, the two men had a two-hourchat, which was alternately humorous, business-like, and retrospective, and then Crayme fell asleep. The next day was reasonably pleasant out ofdoors, so the captain wrapped himself in a blanket and sat in anextension-chair on the guards, where with solemn face he received somecondolences which went far to keep him in good humor after thesympathizers had departed. On the second night the captain was restless, and the two men played cards. On the third day the captain's physiquereached the bottom of its stock of patience, and protested indignantlyat the withdrawal of its customary stimulus; and it acted with moreconsistency, though no less ugliness, than the human mind does whenunder excitement and destitute of control. The captain grew terriblydespondent, and Fred found ample use for all the good stories he knew. Some of these amused the captain greatly, but after one of them hesighed. 

"Poor old Billy Hockess told me that the only time I ever heard itbefore, and _didn't_ we have a glorious time that night! He'd just putall his money into the _Yenesei_--that blew up and took him with it onlya year afterward--and he gave us a new kind of punch he'd got the hangof when he went East for the boat's carpets. 'Twas made of two bottlesof brandy, one whisky, two rum, one gin, two sherry, and four claret, with guava jelly, and lemon peel that had been soaking in curacoa andhoney for a month. It looks kind of weak when you think about it, butthere were only six of us in the party, and it went to the spot by thetime we got through. Golly, but didn't we make Rome howl that night!"

Fred shuddered, and experimented upon his friend with song; he wasrewarded by hearing the captain hum an occasional accompaniment; but, asFred got fairly into a merry Irish song about one Terry O'Rann, anduttered the lines in which the poet states that the hero

 "--took whisky punch Ivery night for his lunch, "

the captain put such a world of expression into a long-drawn sigh thatFred began to feel depressed himself; besides, songs were not numerousin Fred's repertoire, and those in which there was no allusion todrinking could be counted on half his fingers. Then he borrowed thebarkeeper's violin, and played the airs which had been his favorites inthe days of his courtship, until Crayme exclaimed:

"Say, Fred, we're not playing church; give us something that don't bringall of a fellow's dead friends along with it. "

Fred reddened, swung his bow viciously, and dashed into "Natchez Underthe Hill, " an old air which would have delighted Offenbach, but whichwill never appear in a collection of classical music. 

"Ah! that's something like music, " exclaimed Captain Crayme, as Fredpaused suddenly to repair a broken string. "I never hear that but Ithink of Wesley Treepoke, that used to run the _Quitman_; went afterwardto the _Rising Planet_, when the _Quitman's_ owners put her on a newline as an opposition boat. Wess and I used to work things so as to makeLouisville at the same time--he going up, I going down, and then turnabout--and we always had a glorious night of it, with one or two otherlively boys that we'd pick up. And Wess had a fireman that could fiddleoff old 'Natchez' in a way that would just make a corpse dance till itsteeth rattled, and that fireman would always be called in just as we'dgot to the place where you can't tell what sort of whisky 'tis you'redrinking; and I tell you, 'twas so heavenly that a fellow could forgivethe last boat that beat him on the river, or stole a landing from him. And _such_ whisky as Wess kept! used to go cruising around the backcountry, sampling little lots run out of private stills. He'd alwaysfind nectar, you'd better believe. Poor old boy! the tremens took himoff at last. He hove his pilot overboard just before he died, and put abullet into Pete Langston, his second clerk--they were both trying tohold him, you see--but they never laid it up against him. I wish I knewwhat became of the whiskey he had on hand when he walked off--no, Idon't either; what am I thinking about? But I do, though--hanged if Idon't!"

Fred grew pale: he had heard of drunkards growing delirious upon ceasingto drink; he had heard of men who, in periods of aberration, wereimpelled by the motive of the last act or recollection which stronglyimpressed them; what if the captain should suddenly become delirious, and try to throw _him_ overboard or shoot him? Fred determined to getthe captain at once upon the guards--no, into the cabin, where therewould be no sight of water to suggest anything dreadful--and search hisroom for pistols. But the captain objected to being moved into thecabin. 

"The boys, " said the captain, alluding to the gamblers, "are mightysharp in the eye, and like as not they'd see through my little game, andthen where'd my reputation be? Speaking of the boys reminds me of HarryGenang, that cleaned out that rich Kentucky planter at bluff one night, and then swore off gambling for life, and gave a good-by supper aboardthe boat. 'Twas just at the time when Prince Imperial Champagne cameout, and the whole supper was made of that splendid stuff. I guess Imust have put away four bottles, and if I'd known how much he'd ordered, I could have carried away a couple more. I've always been sorry Ididn't. "

Fred wondered if there was any subject of conversation which would notsuggest liquor to the captain; he even brought himself to ask if Craymehad seen the new Methodist Church at Barton since it had been finished. 

"Oh, yes, " said the captain; "I started to walk Moshier home one night, after we'd punished a couple of bottles of old Crow whisky at our house, and he caved in all of a sudden, and I laid him out on the steps of thatvery church till I could get a carriage. Those were my last two bottlesof Crow, too; it's too bad the way the good things of this life paddleoff. "

The captain raised himself in his berth, sat on the edge thereof, stoodup, stared out of the window, and began to pace his room with his headdown and his hands behind his back. Little by little he raised his head, drooped his hands, flung himself into a chair, beat the devil's tattooon the table, sprang up excitedly, and exclaimed:

"I'm going back on all the good times I ever had. "

"You're only getting ready to try a new kind, Sam, " said Fred. 

"Well, I'm going back on my friends. "

"Not on all of them; the dead ones would pat you on the back, if theygot a chance. "

"A world without whisky looks infernally dismal to a fellow that isn'thalf done living. "

"It looks first-rate to a fellow that hasn't got any backdown in him. "

"Curse you! I wish I'd made _you_ back down when you first talkedtemperance to me. "

"Go ahead! Then curse your wife--don't be afraid; you've been doing itever since you married her. "

Crayme flew at Macdonald's throat; the younger man grappled the captainand threw him into his bunk. The captain struggled and glared like atiger; Fred gasped between the special efforts dictated byself-preservation:

"Sam, I--promised to--to see you--through--and I'm--going to--do it, if--if I have to--break your neck. "

The captain made one tremendous effort; Fred braced one foot against thetable, put a knee on the captain's breast, held both the captain'swrists tightly, looked full into the captain's eyes, and breathed asmall prayer--for his own safety. For a moment or two, perhaps longer, the captain strained violently, and then relaxed all effort, and cried:

"Fred, you've whipped me!"

"Nonsense! whip yourself, " exclaimed Fred, "if you're going to stopdrinking. "

The captain turned his face to the wall and said nothing; but he seemedto be so persistently swallowing something that Fred suspected asecreted bottle, and moved an investigation so suddenly that the captainhad not time in which to wipe his eyes. 

"Hang it, Fred, " said he, rather brokenly; "how _can_ what's babyish inmen whip a full-grown steamboat captain?"

"The same way that it whipped a full-grown woolen-mill manager once, Isuppose, old boy, " said Macdonald. 

"Is that so?" exclaimed the captain, astonishment getting so sudden anadvantage over shame that he turned over and looked his companion in theface. "Why--how are you, Fred? I feel as if I was just being introduced. Didn't anybody else help?"

"Yes, " said Fred, "a woman; but--you've got a wife, too. "

Crayme fell back on his pillow and sighed. "If I could only _think_about her, Fred! But I can't; whisky's the only thing that comes into mymind. "

"Can't think about her!" exclaimed Fred; "why, are you acquainted withher yet, I wonder? _I'll_ never forget the evening you were married. "

"That _was_ jolly, wasn't it?" said Crayme. "I'll bet such sherry wasnever opened west of the Alleghanies before or--"

"_Hang_ your sherry!" roared Fred; "it's your wife that I remember. _You_ couldn't see her, of course, for you were standing alongside ofher; but the rest of us--well, I wished myself in your place, that'sall. "

"Did you, though?" said Crayme, with a smile which seemed rather proud;"well, I guess old Major Pike did too, for he drank to her about twentytimes that evening. Let's see; she wore a white moire antique, I thinkthey called it, and it cost twenty-one dollars a dozen, and there was atleast one broken bottle in every--"

"And I made up my mind she was throwing herself away, in marrying afellow that would be sure to care more for whisky than he did for her, "interrupted Fred. 

"Ease off, Fred, ease off now; there wasn't any whisky there; I tried toget some of the old Twin Tulip brand for punch, but--"

"But the devil happened to be asleep, and you got a chance to behaveyourself, " said Fred. 

Crayme looked appealingly. "Fred, " said he, "tell me about her yourself;I'll take it as a favor. "

"Why, she looked like a lot of lilies and roses, " said Fred, "exceptthat you couldn't tell where one left off and the other began. As shecame into the room _I_ felt like getting down on my knees. Old Bayle wastelling me a vile story just then, but the minute _she_ came in hestopped as if he was shot. "

"He wouldn't drink a drop that evening, " said Crayme, "and I've puzzledmy wits over that for five years--"

"She looked so proud of _you_" interrupted Fred, with some impatience. 

"Did she?" asked Crayme. "Well, I guess I _was_ a good-looking fellow inthose days; I know Pike came up to me once, with a glass in his hand, and said that he ought to drink to _me_, for I was the finest-lookinggroom he'd ever seen. He was so tight, though, that he couldn't hold hisglass steady; and though you know I never had a drop of stingy blood inme, it _did_ go to my heart to see him spill that gorgeous sherry. "

"She looked very proud of _you_, " Fred repeated; "but I can't see why, for I've never seen her do it since. "

"You _will_, though, hang you!" exclaimed the captain. "Get out of here!I can think about her _now_, and I don't want anybody else around. Norudeness meant, you know, Fred. "

Fred Macdonald retired quietly, taking with him the keys of both doors, and feeling more exhausted than he had been on any Saturday night sincethe building of the mill. 

FREE SPEECH. 

[_The following is quoted, by permission, from Mr. Habberton's volume_, "THE SCRIPTURE CLUB OF VALLEY REST, " _published by_ G. P. Putnam's Sons, _New York_. ]

The members of the Scripture Club did not put off their holy interestwith their Sunday garments, as people of the world do with most thingsreligious. When the little steamboat _Oakleaf_ started on her Mondaymorning trip for the city, the members of the Scripture Club might beidentified by their neglect of the morning papers and their tendency togather in small knots and engage in earnest conversation. In a cornerbehind the paddle-box, securely screened from wind and sun, sat Mr. Jodderel and Mr. Primm, the latter adoring with much solemn verbositythe sacred word, and the former piling text upon text to demonstrate thefinal removal of all the righteous to a new state of material existencein a better-ordered planet. In the one rocking-chair of the cabin satInsurance President Lottson, praising to Mr. Hooper, who leanedobsequiously upon the back of the chair and occasionally hoppedvivaciously around it, the self-disregard of the disciples, and theevident inability of any one within sight to follow their example. Theprudent Wagget was interviewing Dr. Fahrenglotz, who was going to attendthe meeting of a sort of Theosophic Society, composed almost entirely ofGermans, and was endeavoring to learn what points there might be in theDoctor's belief which would make a man wiser unto salvation, whileCaptain Maile stood by, a critical listener, and distributed pityingglances between the two. Well forward, but to the rear of the generalcrowd, stood Deacon Bates, in an attitude which might have seemedconservative were it not manifestly helpless; Mr. Buffle, with thesmile peculiar to the successful business man; Lawyer Scott, with theair of a man who had so much to say that time could not possibly sufficein which to tell it all; Squire Woodhouse, who was in search of a goodmarket for hay; Principal Alleman, who was in chase of an overdueshipment of text-books; and Mr. Radley, who, with indifferent success, was filling the self-assigned roll of moderator of the littleassemblage. 

"Nothing settled by the meeting?" said Mr. Buffle, echoing a despondentsuggestion by Deacon Bates. "Of course not. You don't suppose that whattheologians have been squabbling over for two thousand years can besettled in a day, do you? We made a beginning and that's a good half ofanything. Why, I and every other man that builds boats have been hard atwork for years, looking for the best model, and we haven't settled thequestion yet. We're in earnest about it--we can't help but be, forthere's money in it, and while we're waiting we do the next bestthing--we use the best ones we know about. "

"Don't you think you'd get at the model sooner, if some of you weren'tpig-headed about your own, and too fond of abusing each other's?" askedMr. Radley. 

"Certainly, " admitted Mr. Buffle, "and that's why I wanted us to get upa Bible-class like the one we have. If everybody will try to see what'sgood in his neighbor's theories and what's bad in his own, hisfortune--his religion, I mean--is a sure thing. Fiddling on one stringalways makes a thin sort of a tune. "

"There were a good many small tunes begun yesterday, then, " observedSquire Woodhouse. 

"Well, " said Mr. Buffle, "I thought something of the kind, myself, but aman can't break an old habit to pieces all at once. Things will bedifferent before long, though. "

"There is no reason why they shouldn't, " said Principal Alleman, "excepting one reason that's stronger than any other. You can't get tothe bottom of any of the sayings of Christ, the Prophets or theApostles, without finding that they mean, Do Right. And when you reachthat point, what is in the man and not what is in the book comes intoplay; or, rather, it always should but seldom does. "

"I suppose that's so, " said Mr. Buffle, soberly. 

"In and of ourselves we can do nothing, " remarked Deacon Bates. 

"It's very odd, then, that we should have been told to do so much, "replied Principal Alleman. 

"It was to teach us our dependence upon a higher power, " said DeaconBates, with more than his usual energy. 

"Are we only to be taught, and never to learn, then?" asked PrincipalAlleman. "Some of my pupils seem to think so, but those who depend leastupon the teacher and act most fully up to what they have been taught arethe ones I call my best scholars. "

Deacon Bates's lower lip pushed up its neighbor; in the school-room, thePrincipal's theory might apply, but in religion it was different, or he(Deacon Bates) had always been mistaken, and this possibility was not tobe thought of for an instant. Fortunately for his peace of mind, theboat touched her city dock just then, and from that hour until five inthe afternoon, when he left his store for the boat, religious theoriesabsented themselves entirely from Deacon Bates's mind. 

The last meeting of the class was still the most popular subject ofconversation among the members, however, and interest of such a degreecould not help be contagious. Other residents of Valley Rest, overhearing some of the chats between the members, expressed a desire tolisten to the discussions of the class, and to all was extended a heartywelcome, without regard to race, color, or previous condition ofreligious servitude, and all were invited to be doers as well ashearers. So at the next session appeared ex-Judge Cottaway, who hadwritten a book and was a vestryman of St. Amos Parish; Broker Whilcher, who worshiped with the Unitarians, but found them rather narrow, andBroker Whilcher's bookkeeper, who read Herbert Spencer, and could nottell what he himself believed, even if to escape the penalty of death. Various motives brought men from other churches, including even one fromFather McGarry's flock, and all of them were assured that they might saywhatever they chose, provided only that they believed it. 

"Shall we continue our consideration of last Sunday's lesson?" askedDeacon Bates, after the opening prayer had been offered. "We have somenew members, and should therefore have some additional views toconsider. "

"Let's hear everybody, " said Captain Maile. "If we talk as long aboutthis verse as we'll _have_ to talk before we reach any agreement, we'llall die before we can reach the square up-and-down verses that arefurther along in this same sermon. "

"If the class has no objection to offer, we will continue our study ofthe third verse of the fifth chapter of Matthew, and those who spoke onlast Sunday will allow the newer members and others an opportunity tomake their views known. " As Deacon Bates spoke, his eye rested warninglyon Mr. Jodderel. 

"I think, " said Mr. Jodderel, "that the new members ought to know whatideas have already been presented, so as to throw any new light uponthem, if they can. The nature of the kingdom of heaven, now, is the mostimportant question suggested by the lesson, and--"

"It won't be of the slightest, consequence to any one, " interruptedPrincipal Alleman, "unless they first comply with the condition whichthe verse imposes upon those who want to reach the kingdom. "

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, " remarked President Lottson; "Jesussaid that the poor in spirit should have the kingdom of heaven; Hedidn't say that no one else should share it with them. What is writtendoesn't always, express all that is meant. "

"It doesn't in insurance policies, anyhow, " said Squire Woodhouse;"when my barn burned--"

"Time is precious, my brethren, " said Deacon Bates hastily, scenting apersonality. "I will therefore ask Judge Cottaway for his opinion of thepassage. "

"I think, " said the judge, with that impressive cough which is therightful indulgence of a man who has written a volume on the rules ofevidence, "that 'poor in spirit' undoubtedly means unassuming, rightlysatisfied with what is their due, mindful of the fact that human natureis so imperfect that whatever a man obtains is probably more than hedeserves. They cannot be the meek, for special allusion is made to themeek in this same group of specially designated persons. Neither can itrefer to people who are usually called poor-spirited persons, to wit, those who are too devoid of what is commonly designated as spirit, forthese are properly classified as peace-makers, and have a similar thoughnot identical blessing promised to them. "

"The class owes its thanks to the judge for his clear definition of theterm 'poor in spirit, '" said Mr. Jodderel, "and if he can be equallydistinct upon the expression 'kingdom of heaven' he will put an end to agreat deal of senseless blundering. "

"I know of but one definition, " said the judge, "heaven is the abode ofGod and the angels, and of those who are finally saved. "

"Ah, but _where_ is it? _that's_ the question this class wantsanswered, " said Mr. Jodderel, twisting his body and craning his headforward as he awaited the answer. 

"Really, " said the judge, "you must excuse me. I don't know where it is, and I can't see that study as to its locality can throw any light uponthe lesson. "

This opinion, delivered by an ex-judge, who had written a book on therules of evidence, would have quieted almost any one else, and themembers' faces expressed a sense of relief as they thought that Mr. Jodderel was not one of the faint-hearted, and in his opinionfaint-heartedness and quietness were one and the same thing. 

"No light upon the lesson?" echoed Mr. Jodderel. "Why, what is the Biblefor, if not to inform us of our destiny? What is this world but a placeof preparation for another? And how can we prepare ourselves unless weknow what our future place and duty is to be?"

"Next!" exclaimed Deacon Bates with more than his usual energy, and Mr. Jodderel sank back into his chair and talked angrily with every featurebut his mouth, and with his whole body besides. "Mr. Whilcher has somenew ideas to present, no doubt, " continued the leader, bracing himselfsomewhat firmly in his chair, for the Deacon naturally expected anassault from a man of Mr. Whilcher's peculiar views. 

"Poverty of spirit seems to me to be old English for modesty, " said Mr. Whilcher, "We know very little, comparatively, of the great designs ofGod, and about as little of the intentions of our fellow-men, so weshould be very careful how we question our Maker or criticise ourneighbors. No human being would appreciate divine perfection if he sawit; no man can give his fellow men full credit for what they _would_ do, if they were angels, and are sorry because they can't do. I think thepassage means that only by that modesty, that self-repression, by whichalone a man can accept the inevitable as decreed by God, and forbearthat fault-finding which comes fully as easy as breathing, can a man befitted for the companionship of the loving company which awaits us allin the next world"

"Whereabouts?" asked Mr. Jodderel. 

Half-a-dozen members filibustered at once, and Mr. Jodderel wastemporarily suppressed, after which Squire Woodhouse remarked:

"Well, now, that sounds first-rate--I never knew before that Unitarianshad such good religion in them--no harm meant, you know, Whilcher. "

"Now let us hear from Mr. Bungfloat, " said Deacon Bates. 

Mr. Bungfloat, bookkeeper to Mr. Whilcher, hopelessly explored hismemory for something from Herbert Spencer that would bear upon thesubject, but finding nothing at hand, he quoted some expressions fromJohn Stuart Mill's essay on "Nature, " and was hopelessly demoralizedwhen he realized that they did not bear in the remotest manner upon thetopic under consideration. Then Deacon Bates announced that the subjectwas open for general remark and comment. Mr. Jodderel was upon his feetin an instant, though the class has no rule compelling the members torise while speaking. 

"Mr. Leader, " said he, "everybody has spoken, but nobody has settled themain question, which is, where is the 'kingdom of heaven'? Everybodyknows who the poor in spirit are; any one that didn't know when we beganhas now a lot of first-class opinions to choose from. But where and whatis heaven--_that_ is what we want to know. "

A subdued but general groan indicated the possibility that Mr. Jodderelwas mistaken as to the desires of the class. Meanwhile, young Mr. Banty, who had been to Europe, and listened to much theological debate in cafesand beer-gardens, remarked:

"I'm not a member of this respected body, but I seem to be included inthe chairman's invitation. I profess to be a man of the world--I've beenaround a good deal--and I never could see that the poor in spiritamounted to a row of pins. If they're fit for heaven they ought to befit for something on this side of that undiscovered locality. "

"Discovered millions upon millions of times, bless the Lord, "interrupted Squire Woodhouse. 

"Well, the discoverers sent no word back, at any rate, " said young Mr. Banty, "so there's one view I think ought to be considered; isn't itpossible that Jesus was mistaken?"

Mr. Primm turn pale and Deacon Bates shivered violently, while a low humand a general shaking of heads showed the unpopularity of young Mr. Banty's idea. 

"The class cannot entertain such a theory for an instant, " answeredDeacon Bates, as soon as he could recover his breath, "though itencourages the freest expression of opinion. "

"Oh!" remarked Mr. Banty, with a derisive smile. The tone in which thisinterjection was delivered put the class upon its spirit at once. 

"Our leader means exactly what he says, " said Mr. Jodderel; "any honestexpression of opinion is welcome here. "

"If such were not the case, " said Mr. Primm, "a rival class would nothave been formed. "

"And none of us would have learned how many sides there are to a greatquestion, " said. Mr. Buffle. 

"Larger liberty wouldn't be possible, " said Builder Stott. "Why, I'vejust had to shudder once in a while, but the speakers meant what theysaid, and I rejoiced that there was somewhere where they could say it. "

"I've said everything _I've_ wanted to, " remarked Squire Woodhouse. 

"That's so, " exclaimed Insurance President Lottson. 

"I haven't seen any man put down, " testified Captain Maile, "and I don'tyet understand what to make of it. "

"Nobody could ask a fairer show, " declared Mr. Radley. 

"The utmost courtesy has been displayed toward me, " said Dr. Fahrenglotz, "although I am conscious my views are somewhat at variancewith those of others. "

"The nature of proof has not been as clearly understood as it shouldhave been, " said young Lawyer Scott; "but no one has lacked opportunityto express his sentiments. "

"So far from fault being found with the freedom of speech, " said Mr. Alleman, "the sentiment of the class is, I think, that the expression ofadditional individual impressions would have been cordially welcomed, asthey will also hereafter be. "

Young Mr. Banty felt himself to be utterly annihilated, and the pillarsof the class looked more stable and enduring than ever, and feltgreatly relieved when the session ended, and they could congratulateeach other on the glorious spirit of liberty which had marked theircollective deliberations. And when Squire Woodhouse dashed impetuouslyfrom the room, and returned to report that Dr. Humbletop's classconsisted of one solitary pupil, several of the members unconsciouslyindulged in some hearty hand-shaking.