Transcriber's Note:

The author of this book is Metta Victoria Fuller Victor writing under thePen name of Walter T. Gray. But the Author's name is not given in theoriginal text. 

 The Table of Contents is not part of the original text. 

 THE BLUNDERS

 OF A

 BASHFUL MAN. 

 _By the Author of_

 "A BAD BOY'S DIARY"

 COPYRIGHT, 1881, BY STREET & SMITH. 

 NEW YORK:

 J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

 57 ROSE STREET. 

 * * * * *

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. HE ATTENDS A PICNIC. 

II. HE MAKES AN EVENING CALL. 

III. GOES TO A TEA-PARTY. 

IV. HE DOES HIS DUTY AS A CITIZEN. 

V. HE COMMITS SUICIDE. 

VI. HE IS DOOMED FOR WORSE ACCIDENTS. 

VII. I MAKE A NARROW ESCAPE. 

VIII. HE ENACTS THE PART OF GROOMSMAN. 

IX. MEETS A PAIR OF BLUE EYES. 

X. HE CATCHES A TROUT AND PRESENTS IT TO A LADY. 

XI. HE GOES TO THE CIRCUS. 

XII. A LEAP FOR LIFE. 

XIII. ONE OF THE FAIR SEX COMES TO HIS RESCUE. 

XIV. HIS DIFFIDENCE BRINGS ABOUT AN ACCIDENT. 

XV. HE BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH A CHICAGO WIDOW. 

XVI. AT LAST HE SECURES A TREASURE. 

XVII. HE ENJOYS HIMSELF AT A BALL. 

XVIII. HE OPENS THE WRONG DOOR. 

XIX. DRIVEN FROM HIS LAST DEFENCE. 

 * * * * *

THE

BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN. 

CHAPTER I. 

HE ATTENDS A PICNIC. 

I have been, am now, and shall always be, a bashful man. I have beentold that I am the only bashful man in the world. How that is I cannot say, but should not be sorry to believe that it is so, for I am oftoo generous a nature to desire any other mortal to suffer the mishapswhich have come to me from this distressing complaint. A person canhave smallpox, scarlet fever, and measles but once each. He can evenbecome so inoculated with the poison of bees and mosquitoes as to maketheir stings harmless; and he can gradually accustom, himself to theuse of arsenic until he can take 444 grains safely; but forbashfulness--like mine--there is no first and only attack, no becominghardened to the thousand petty stings, no saturation of one's beingwith the poison until it loses its power. 

I am a quiet, nice-enough, inoffensive young gentleman, now rapidlyapproaching my twenty-sixth year. It is unnecessary to state that I amunmarried. I should have been wedded a great many times, had not somefresh attack of my malady invariably, and in some new shape, attackedme in season to prevent the "consummation devoutly to be wished. " WhenI look back over twenty years of suffering through which I haveliterally stumbled my way--over the long series of embarrassments andmortifications which lie behind me--I wonder, with a mild and patientwonder, why the Old Nick I did not commit suicide ages ago, and thusend the eventful history with a blank page in the middle of the book. I dare say the very bashfulness which has been my bane has preventedme; the idea of being cut down from a rafter, with a black-and-blueface, and drawn out of the water with a swollen one, has put me so outof countenance that I had not the courage to brave a coroner's juryunder the circumstances. 

Life to me has been a scramble through briers. I do not recall onesingle day wholly free from the scratches inflicted on a cruelsensitiveness. I will not mention those far-away agonies of boyhood, when the teacher punished me by making me sit with the girls, but willhasten on to a point that stands out vividly against a dark backgroundof accidents. I was nineteen. My sentiments toward that part ofcreation known as "young ladies" were, at that time, of a mingled andcontradictory nature. I adored them as angels; I dreaded them as ifthey were mad dogs, and were going to bite me. 

My parents were respected residents of a small village in the westernpart of the State of New York. I had been away at a boys' academy forthree years, and returned about the first of June to my parents and toBabbletown to find that I was considered a young man, and expected totake my part in the business and pleasures of life as such. My fatherdismissed his clerk and put me in his place behind the counter of ourstore. 

Within three days every girl in that village had been to that storeafter something or another--pins, needles, a yard of tape, to look atgloves, to _try on shoes_, or examine gingham and calico, until I washappy, because out of sight, behind a pile high enough to hide myflushed countenance. I shall never forget that week. I ran thegauntlet from morning till night. I believe those heartless wretchestold each other the mistakes I made, for they kept coming and coming, looking as sweet as honey and as sly as foxes. Father said I'd breakhim if I didn't stop making blunders in giving change--he wasn't inthe prize-candy business, and couldn't afford to have me givetwenty-five sheets of note paper, a box of pens, six corset laces, abunch of whalebones, and two dollars and fifty cents change for atwo-dollar bill. 

He explained to me that the safety-pins which I had offered Emma Jonesfor crochet-needles were _not_ crochet-needles; nor the red wafers Ihad shown Mary Smith for gum-drops, gum-drops--that gingham was notthree dollars per yard, nor pale-blue silk twelve-and-a-half cents, even to Squire Marigold's daughter. He said I must be more careful. 

"I don't think the mercantile business is my _forte_, father, " said I. 

"Your fort!" replied the old gentleman; "fiddlesticks! We have nothingto do with military matters. But if you think you have a special callto anything, John, speak out. Would you like to study for theministry, my son?"

"Oh, no, indeed! I don't know exactly what I would like, unless itwere to be a Juan Fernandez, or a--a light-house keeper. "

Then father said I was a disgrace to him, and I knew I was. 

On the fourth day some young fellows came to see me, and told me therewas to be a picnic on Saturday, and I must get father's horse andbuggy and take one of the girls. In vain I pleaded that I did not knowany of them well enough. They laughed at me, and said that BelleMarigold had consented to go with me; that I knew her--she had been inthe store and bought some blue silk for twelve-and-a-half cents ayard; and they rather thought she fancied me, she seemed so ready toaccept my escort; should they tell her I would call for her at teno'clock, sharp, on Saturday morning?

There was no refusing under the circumstances, and I said "yes" withthe same gaiety with which I would have signed my own death-warrant. Yet I wanted to go to the picnic, dreadfully; and of all the youngladies in Babbletown I preferred Belle Marigold. She was thehandsomest and most stylish girl in the county. Her eyes were large, black, and mischievous; her mouth like a rose; she dressed prettily, and had an elegant little way of tossing back her dark ringlets thatwas fascinating even at first sight. I was told my doom on Thursdayafternoon, and do not think I slept any that or Friday night--ampositive I did not Saturday night. I wanted to go and I wanted to takethat particular girl, yet I was in a cold sweat at the idea. I wouldhave given five dollars to be let off, and I wouldn't have takenfifteen for my chance to go. I asked father if I could have the horseand buggy, and if he would tend store. I hoped he would say No; butwhen he said Yes, I was delighted. 

"I'll take the opportunity when you are at the picnic to get theaccounts out of the quirks you've got 'em into, " said he. 

Well, Saturday came. As I opened my eyes my heart jumped into mythroat. "I've got to go through with it now if it kills me, " Ithought. 

Mother asked me why I ate no breakfast. 

"Saving my appetite for the picnic, " I responded, cheerfully; whichwas one of the white lies my miserable bashfulness made me tell everyday of my life--I knew that I should go dinner-less at the picnicunless I could get behind a tree with my plate of goodies. 

I never to this day can abide to eat before strangers; things _always_go by my windpipe instead of my ęsophagus, and I'm tired to death ofscalding my legs with hot tea, to say nothing of adding to one'sembarrassment to have people asking if one has burned oneself, andfeeling that one has broken a cup out of a lady's best china tea-set. But about tea and tea-parties I shall have more to say hereafter. Imust hurry on to my first picnic, where I made my first publicappearance as the Bashful Man. 

I made a neat toilet--a fresh, light summer suit that I flatteredmyself beat any other set of clothes in Babbletown--ordered Joe, ourchore-boy, to bring the buggy around in good order, with everythingshining; and when he had done so, had the horse tied in front of thestore. 

"Come, my boy, " said father, after a while, "it's ten minutes to ten. Never keep the ladies waiting. "

"Yes, sir; as soon as I've put these raisins away. "

"Five minutes to ten, John. Don't forget the lemons. "

"No, sir. " But I _did_ forget them in my trepidation, and a man hadto be sent back for them afterward. 

It was just ten when I stepped into the buggy with an attempt toappear in high spirits. As I drove slowly toward Squire Marigold'slarge mansion on Main Street, I met dozens of gay young folks on theway out of town, some of them calling out that I would be late, and totry and catch up with them after I got my girl. 

As I came in sight of the house my courage failed. I turned off on aby-street, drove around nearly half a mile, and finally approached theobject of my dread from another direction. I do believe I should havepassed the house after I got to it had I not seen a vision of pinkribbons, white dress, and black eyes at the window, and realized thatI was observed. So I touched the horse with the whip, drove up with aflourish, and before I had fairly pulled up at the block, Belle was atthe door, with a servant behind her carrying a hamper. 

"You are late, Mr. Flutter, " she called out, half gayly, half crossly. 

I arose from the seat, flung down the reins, and leaped out, like aflying-fish out of the water, to hand the beautiful apparition in. Inmy nervousness I did not observe how I placed the lines, my footbecame entangled in them, I was brought up in the most unexpectedmanner, landing on the pavement on my new hat instead of the soles ofmy boots. 

This was not only embarrassing, but positively painful. There was abump on my forehead, the rim of my hat was crushed, my new suit wassoiled, my knee ached like Jericho, and there was a rent in mypantaloons right opposite where my knee hurt. 

Belle tittered, the colored girl stuffed her apron in her mouth, andsaid "hi! hi!" behind it. I would have given all I had in life to giveif I could have started on an exploring expedition for China justthen, but I couldn't. The pavement was not constructed with referenceto swallowing up bashful young men who wanted to be swallowed. 

"I hope you are not hurt, Mr. Flutter, te-he?"

"Oh, not at all, not in the least; it never hurts me to fall. It wasthose constricted reins, they caught my foot. Does the basket go withus? I mean the servant. No, I don't, I mean the basket--does she gowith us?"

"The hamper does, Mr. Flutter, or we should be minus sandwiches. Jane, put the hamper in. "

Miss Marigold was in the buggy before I had straightened my hat-rim. 

"I hope your horse is a fast one; we shall be late, " she remarked, asI took my place by her side. "Here is a pin, Mr. Flutter; you can pinup that tear. "

I was glad she asked me to let the horse go at full speed; it was themost soothing thing which could happen at that time. As he flew alongI could affect to be busy with the cares of driving, and so escapethe trials of conversation. I spoke to my lovely companion only threetimes in the eight miles between her house and the grove. The firsttime I remarked, "We are going to have a warm day"; the second, "Ithink the day will be quite warm"; the third time I launched outboldly: "Don't you think, Miss Marigold, we shall have it rather warmabout noon?"

"You seem to feel the heat more than I do, " she answered, demurely, which was true, for she looked as cool as a cucumber and ascomfortable as a mouse in a cheese, while I was mopping my face everyother minute with my handkerchief. 

When we reached the picnic grounds she offered to hold the reins whileI got out. As I lifted her down, the whole company, who had beenwatching for our arrival, burst out laughing. Miss Belle looked at meand burst out laughing, too. 

"What's the matter?" I stammered. 

"Oh, nothing, " said she; "only you dusted your clothes with yourhandkerchief after you fell, and now you've wiped your face with it, and it's all streaked up as if you'd been making mud pies, and yourhat's a little out of shape, and--"

"You look as if you'd been on a bender, " added the fellow who hadinduced me to come to the confounded affair. 

"Well, I guess I can wash my face, " I retorted, a little mad. "I'vemet with an accident, that's all. Just wait until I've tied my horse. "

There was a pond close by--part of the programme of the picnic was togo out rowing on the pond--and as soon as I had fastened my horse, Iwent down to the bank and stooped over to wash my face, and the bankgave way and I pitched headlong into twelve feet of water. 

I was not scared, for I could swim, but I was puzzled as to how toenjoy a picnic in my wet clothes. I wanted to go home, but the boyssaid:

"No--I must walk about briskly and let my things dry on me--the daywas so warm I wouldn't take cold. "

So I walked about briskly, all by myself, for about two hours, whilethe rest of them were having a good time. Then some one asked wherethe lemons were that I was to bring, and I had to confess that theywere at home in the store, and dinner was kept waiting another twohours while a man took my horse and went for those lemons. I walkedabout all the time he was gone, and was dry enough by the time thelemonade was made to wish I had some. But the water had shrunk myclothes so that the legs of my pantaloons and the arms of my coat wereabout six inches too short, while my boots, which had been rathertight in the first place, made my feet feel as if they were in ared-hot iron vise. I couldn't face all those giggling girls, and Igot down behind a tree and the tears came in my eyes, I felt somiserable. 

Belle was a tease, but she wasn't heartless; she got two plates, heaped with nice things, and two tumblers of lemonade, and sat down bymy side coaxing me to eat, and telling me how sorry she was that I hadhad my pleasure destroyed by an accident. 

I had a piece of spring chicken, but being too bashful to masticate itproperly, I attempted to swallow it whole. It stuck!--she had to patme on the back--I became purple and kicked about wildly, ruining hernew sash by upsetting both plates. She became seriously alarmed, andran for aid; two of the fellows stood me on my head and pounded thesoles of my feet, by which wise course the morsel was dislodged, and"Richard was himself again. "

After the excitement had partially subsided, the punster of thevillage--there is always one punster in every community--broke outwith:

"Oh, swallow, swallow, flying South, fly to her and tell her what Itell to thee. "

The girls laughed; I looked and saw Belle trying to wipe the ice-creamfrom her sash. 

"Never mind the sash, Miss Marigold, " I said, in desperation, "I'llsend you another to-morrow. But if you'll excuse me, I'll go home now. I'm not well, and mother'll be alarmed about me--I ought not to haveleft father alone to tend store, and I feel that I've taken cold. Ipresume some of these folks will have a spare seat, and my boots haveshrunk, and I don't care for picnics as a general thing, anyway. Myclothes are shrinking all the time, and I think we're going to have athunder-shower, and I guess I'll go. "--and I went. 

CHAPTER II. 

HE MAKES AN EVENING CALL. 

It's very provoking to a bashful man to have the family pew only oneremove from the pulpit. I didn't feel like going to church the dayafter the picnic, but father wouldn't let me off. I caught my foot ina hole in the carpet walking up the aisle, which drew particularattention to me; and dropped by hymn-book twice, to add to theinterest I had already excited in the congregation. My fingers arealways all thumbs when I have to find the hymn. 

"I do believe you did take cold yesterday, " said mother, when we cameout. "You must have a fever, for your face is as red as fire. "

Very consoling when a young man wants to look real sweet. But that'smy luck. I'll be as pale as a poet when I leave my looking-glass, butbefore I enter a ball-room or a dining-room I'll be as red as analderman. I have often wished that I could be permanently whitewashed, like a kitchen wall or a politician's record. I think, perhaps, if Iwere whitewashed for a month or two I might cure myself of my habit ofblushing when I enter a room. I bought a box of "Meen Fun" once, andtried to powder; but I guess I didn't understand the art as well asthe women do; it was mean fun in good earnest, for the girl I wasgoing to take to singing-school wanted to know if I'd been helping myma make biscuits for supper; and then she took her handkerchief andbrushed my face, which wasn't so bad as it might have been, for herhandkerchief had patchouly on it and was as soft as silk. But thatwasn't Belle Marigold, and so it didn't matter. 

To return to church. I went again in the evening, and felt more athome, for the kerosene was not very bright. I got along without anyaccident. After meeting was out, father stopped to speak to theminister. As I stood in the entry, waiting for him, Belle came out, and asked me how I felt after the picnic. I saw she was alone, and soI hemmed, and said: "Have you any one to see you home?"

She said, "No; but I'm not afraid--it's not far, " and stopped andwaited for me to offer her my arm, looking up at me with thosebewitching eyes. 

"Oh, " said I, dying to wait upon her, but not daring to crook my elbowbefore the crowd, "I'm glad of that; but if you are the least bittimid, Miss Marigold, father and I will walk home with you. "

Then I heard a suppressed laugh behind me, and, turning, saw thatdetestable Fred Hencoop, who never knew what it was to feel modestsince the day his nurse tied his first bib on him. 

"Miss Marigold, " said he, looking as innocent as a lamb, "if you do methe honor to accept my arm, I'll try and take you home without callingon my pa to assist me in the arduous duty. " And she went with him. 

I was very low-spirited on the way home. 

"As sure as I live I'll go and call on her to-morrow evening, and showher I'm not the fool she thinks I am, " I said, between my grittedteeth. "I'll take her a new sash to replace the one I spoiled at thepicnic, and we'll see who's the best fellow, Hencoop or I. "

The next afternoon I measured off four yards of the sweetestsash-ribbon ever seen in Babbletown, and charged myself with sevendollars--half my month's salary, as agreed upon between father andme--and rolled up the ribbon in white tissue paper, preparatory to theevent of the evening. 

"Where are you going?" father asked, as I edged out of the store justafter dark. 

"Oh, up the street a piece. "

"Well, here's a pair o' stockings to be left at the Widow Jones'. Justcall as you go by and leave 'em, will you?"

I stuck the little bundle he gave me in my coat-tail pocket; but bythe time I passed the Widow Jones' house I was so taken up with thebusiness on hand that I forgot all about the stockings. 

I could see Miss Marigold sitting at the piano and hear her singing asI passed the window. It was awful nice, and, to prolong the pleasure, I stayed outside about half an hour, then a summer shower came up, andI made up my mind and rang the bell. Jane came to the door. 

"Is the squire at home?" says I. 

"No, sir, he's down to the hotel; but Miss Marigold, she's to hum, "said the black girl, grinning. "Won't you step in? Miss will bedreffle sorry her pa is out. "

She took my hat and opened the parlor door; there was a generaldazzle, and I bowed to somebody and sat down somewhere, and in abouttwo minutes the mist cleared away, and I saw Belle Marigold, with arose in her hair, sitting not three feet away, and smiling at me as ifcoaxing me to say something. 

"Quite a shower?" I remarked. 

"Indeed--is it raining?" said she. 

"Yes, indeed, " said I; "it came up very sudden. "

"I hope you didn't get wet?" said she, with a sly look. 

"Not this time, " said I, trying to laugh. 

"Does it lighten?" said she. 

"A few, " said I. 

Miss Marigold coughed and looked out of the window. There was a pausein our brilliant conversation. 

"I think we shall have a rainy night, " I resumed. 

"I'm _so_ afraid of thunder, " said she. "I shall not sleep a bit if itthunders. I shall sit up until the rain is over. I never like to bealone in a storm. I always want some one _close by me_, " she said, with a little shiver. 

[Illustration: "I'M SO FRIGHTENED, MR. FLUTTER, " SAID SHE; "I FEEL, INMOMENTS LIKE THESE, HOW SWEET IT WOULD BE TO HAVE SOME ONE TO CLINGTO. "]

I hitched my chair about a foot nearer hers. It thundered pretty loud, and she gave a little squeal, and brought her chair alongside mine. 

"I'm so frightened, Mr. Flutter, " said she: "I feel, in moments likethese, how sweet it would be to have someone to cling to. "

And she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. 

"Dear Belle, " said I, "would you--would you--could you--now--"

"What?" whispered she, very softly. 

"If I thought, " I stammered, "that you could--that you would--that itwas handy to give me a drink of water. " She sprang up as if shot, andrang a little hand-bell. 

"Jane, a glass of water for this gentleman--_ice_-water, " in a verychilly tone, and she sat down over by the piano. 

Bashful fool and idiot that I was. I had lost another opportunity. 

After I had swallowed the water Jane had left the room. I bethought meof the handsome present which I had in my pocket, and, hoping toregain her favor by that, I drew out the little package and tossed itcarelessly in her lap. 

"Belle, " said I, "I have not forgotten that I spilled lemonade on yoursash; I hope you will not refuse to allow me to make such amends asare in my power. If the color does not suit you, I will exchange itfor any you may select. "

She began to smile again, coquettishly untying the string andunwrapping the paper. Instead of the lovely rose-colored ribbon, outrolled a long pair of coarse blue cotton stockings. 

Miss Marigold screamed louder than she had at the thunder. 

"It's all a mistake!" I cried; "a ridiculous mistake! I beg yourpardon ten thousand times! They are for the Widow Jones. _Here_ iswhat I intended for _you_, dear, dear Belle, " and I thrust anotherpackage into heir hands. 

"Fine-cut!" said she, examining the wrapper by the light of the lampon the piano. "Do you think I chew, Mr. Flutter?--or _dip_? Do youintend to willfully insult me? Leave the hou----"

"Oh, I beg of you, listen! Here it is at last!" I exclaimed indesperation, drawing out the right package at last, and myselfdisplaying to her dazzled view the four yards of glittering ribbon. "There's not another in Babbletown so handsome. Wear it for _my sake_, Belle!"

"I will, " she sighed, after she had secretly rubbed it, and held it tothe light to make sure of its quality. "I will, John, for your sake. "

We were friends again; she was very sweet, and played something on thepiano, and an hour slipped away as if I were in Paradise. I rose togo, the rain being over. 

"But about that paper of fine-cut!" she said, archly, as she went intothe hall with me to get my hat; "do you chew, John?"

"No, Belle, that tobacco was for old man Perkins, as sure as I standhere. If you don't believe me, smell my breath, " said I, and I triedto get my arm about her waist. 

It was kind of dark in the hall; she did not resist so very much; mylips were only about two inches from hers--for I wanted her to be sureabout my breath--when a voice that almost made me faint away, put aconundrum to me:

"If you'd a kissed my girl, young man, why would it have been like aCentennial fire-arm?"

"Because it hasn't gone off yet!" I gasped, reaching for my hat. 

"Wrong, " said he grimly. "Because it would have been a blunder-buss. "

I reckon the squire was right. 

CHAPTER III. 

GOES TO A TEA-PARTY. 

The Widow Jones got her stockings the next day. As I left them at thedoor she stuck her head out of an upper window and said to me that"the sewing society met at her house on Thursday afternoon, and themen-folks was coming to tea and to spend the evening, and I must be_sure_ an' come, or the girls would be _so_ disappointed, " and sheurged and urged until I had to promise her I would attend hersociable. 

Drat all tea-parties! say I. I was never comfortable at one in mylife. If you'd give me my choice between going to a tea-party andpicking potato-bugs off the vines all alone on a hot summer day, Ishouldn't hesitate a moment between the two. I should choose the bugs;and I can't say I fancy potato-bugs, either. 

On Wednesday I nearly killed an old lady, putting up tartar-emetic forcream-tartar. If she'd eaten another biscuit made with it she'd havedied and I'd have been responsible--and father was really vexed andsaid I might be a light-house keeper as quick as I pleased; but bythat time I felt as if I couldn't keep a light-house without BelleMarigold to help me, and so I promised to be more careful, and kepton clerking. 

The thermometer stood at eighty degrees in the shade when I left thestore at five o'clock Thursday afternoon to go to that infallibletea-party. I was glad the day was warm, for I wanted to wear my whitelinen suit, with a blue cravat and Panama hat. I felt independent evenof Fred Hencoop, as I walked along the street under the shade of theelms; but, the minute I was inside Widow Jones' gate and walking up tothe door, the thermometer went up to somewhere near 200 degrees. Therewere something like a dozen heads at each of the parlor windows, andall women's heads at that. Six or eight more were peeping out of thesitting-room, where they were laying the table for tea. Babbletownalways did seem to me to have more than its fair share of femalepopulation. I think I would like to live in one of those mining townsout in Colorado, where women are as scarce as hairs on the inside of aman's hand. Somebody coughed as I was going up the walk. Did you everhave a girl cough at you?--one of those mean, teasing, expressivelittle coughs?

I had practiced--at home in my own room--taking off my Panama with agraceful, sweeping bow, and saying in calm, well-bred tones:"Good-evening, Mrs. Jones. Good-evening, ladies. I trust you have hada pleasant as well as profitable afternoon. "

I had _practiced_ that in the privacy of my chamber. What I really didget off was something like this:

"Good Jones, Mrs. Evening. I should say, good-evening, widows--ladies, I beg your pardon, " by which time I was mopping my forehead with myhandkerchief, and could just ask, as I sank into the first chair Isaw, "Is your mother well, Mrs. Jones?" which was highly opportune, since said mother had been years dead before I was born. As I satdown, a pang sharper than some of those endured by the Spartans ranthrough my right leg. I was instantly aware that I had plumped down ona needle, as well as a piece of fancy-work, but I had not the courageto rise and extract the excruciating thing. 

I turned pale with pain, but by keeping absolutely still I found thatI could endure it, and so I sat motionless, like a wooden man, with afrozen smile on my features. 

Belle was out in the other room helping set the table, for whichmitigating circumstances I was sufficiently thankful. 

Fred Hencoop was on the other side of the room holding a skein of silkfor Sallie Brown. He looked across at me, smiling with a malice whichmade me hate him. 

Out of that hate was born a stern resolve--I would conquer mydiffidence; I would prove to Fred Hencoop, and any other fellow likehim, that I was as good as he was, and could at least equal him inthe attractions of my sex. 

There was a pretty girl sitting quite near me. I had been introducedto her at the picnic. It seemed to me that she was eyeing mecuriously, but I was mad enough at Fred to show him that I could be ascool as anybody, after I got used to it. I hemmed, wiped theperspiration from my face--caused now more by the needle than by theheat--and remarked, sitting stiff as a ramrod and smiling like anangel:

"June is my favorite month, Miss Smith--is it yours? When I think ofJune I always think of strawberries and cream and ro-oh-oh-ses!"

It was the needle. I had forgotten in the excitement of the subjectand had moved. 

"_Is_ anything the matter?" Miss Smith tenderly inquired. 

"Nothing in the world, Miss Smith. I had a stitch in my side, but itis over now. "

"Stitches are very painful, " she observed, sympathizingly. "I don'tlike to trouble you, Mr. Flutter, but I think, I believe, I guess youare sitting on my work. If you will rise, I will try and finish itbefore tea. "

No help for it, and I arose, at the same moment dexterously slippingmy hand behind me and withdrawing the thorn in the flesh. 

"Oh, dear, where is my needle?" said the young lady, anxiouslyscrutinizing the crushed worsted-work. 

I gave it to her with a blush. She burst out laughing. 

"I don't wonder you had a stitch in your side, " she remarked, shyly. 

"Hem!" observed Fred very loud, "do you feel sew-sew, John?"

Just then Belle entered the parlor, looking as sweet as a pink, andwearing the sash I had given her. She bowed to me very coquettishlyand announced tea. 

"Too bad!" continued Fred; "you have broken the thread of Mr. Flutter's discourse with Miss Smith. But I do not wish to inflict_needle_-less pain, so I will not betray him. "

"I hope Mr. Flutter is not in trouble again, " said Belle quickly. 

"Oh, no. Fred is only trying to say something _sharp_, " said I. 

"Come with me; I will take care of you, Mr. Flutter, " said Belle, taking my arm and marching me out into the sitting-room, where a longtable was heaped full of inviting eatables. She sat me down by herside, and I felt comparatively safe. But Fred and Miss Smith were justopposite and they disconcerted me. 

"Mr. Flutter, " said the hostess when it came my turn, "will you havetea or coffee?"

"Yes'm, " said I. 

"Tea or coffee?"

"If you please, " said I. 

"_Which_?" whispered Belle. 

"Oh, excuse me; coffee, ma'am. "

"Cream and sugar, Mr. Flutter?"

"I'm not particular which, Mrs. Jones. "

"Do you take _both_?" she persisted, with everybody at the tablelooking my way. 

"No, ma'am, only coffee, " said I, my face the color of thebeet-pickles. 

She finally passed me a cup, and, in my embarrassment, I immediatelytook a swallow and burnt my mouth. 

"Have you lost any friends lately?" asked that wretched Fred, seeingthe tears in my eyes. 

I enjoyed that tea-party as geese enjoy _pate de fois gras_. It was aprolonged torment under the guise of pleasure. I refused everything Iwanted, and took everything I didn't want. I got a back of the coldchicken; there was nothing of it but bone. I thought I must appear tobe eating it, and it slipped out from under my fork and flew into thedish of preserved cherries. 

We had strawberries. I am very partial to strawberries and cream. Igot a saucer of the berries, and was looking about for the cream whenMiss Smith's mother, at my right hand, said:

"Mr. Flutter, will you have some _whip_ with your strawberries?"

Whip with my berries! I thought she was making fun of me, andstammered:

"No, I thank you, " and so I lost the delicious frothed cream that Icoveted. 

The agony of the thing was drawing to a close. I was longing for thetime when I could go home and get some cold potatoes out of mother'scupboard. I hadn't eaten worth a cent. 

Pretty soon we all moved back our chairs and rose. I offered my arm toBelle, as I supposed. Between the sitting-room and parlor there was alittle dark hall, and when we got in there I summoned up courage, passed my arm around my fair partner, and gave her a hug. 

"You ain't so bashful as you look, " said she, and then we stepped intothe parlor, and I found I'd been squeezing Widow Jones' waist. 

She gave me a look full of languishing sweetness that scared me nearlyto death. I thought of Mr. Pickwick and Mrs. Bardell. Visions of suitsfor breaches of promise arose before my horrified vision. I glancedwildly around in search of Belle; she was hanging on a young lawyer'sarm, and not looking at me. 

"La, now, you needn't color up so, " said the widow, coquettishly, "Iknow what young men are. "

She said it aloud, on purpose for Belle to hear. I felt like killingher. I might have done it, but one thought restrained me--I should behung for murder, and I was too bashful to submit to so public anordeal. 

I hurried across the room to get rid of her. There was a young fellowstanding there who looked about as out-of-place as I felt. I thoughtI would speak to him. 

"Come, " said I, "let us take a little promenade outside--the women aretoo much for me. "

He made no answer. I heard giggling and tittering breaking out allaround the room, like rash on a baby with the measles. 

"Come on, " said I; "like as not they're laughing at us. "

"Look-a-here, you shouldn't speak to a fellow till you've beenintroduced, " said that wicked Fred behind me. "Mr. Flutter, allow meto make you acquainted with Mr. Flutter. He's anxious to take a littlewalk with you. "

It was so; I had been talking to myself in a four-foot looking-glass. 

I did not feel like staying for the ice-cream and kissing-plays, buthad a sly hunt for my hat, and took leave of the tea-party about theeighth of a second afterward. 

CHAPTER IV. 

HE DOES HIS DUTY AS A CITIZEN. 

Babbletown began to be very lively as soon as the weather got cool, the fall after I came home. We had a singing-school once a week, adebating society that met every Wednesday evening, and then we hadsociables, and just before Christmas a fair. All the other young menhad a good time. Every day, when some of them dropped in the store fora chat and a handful of raisins, they would aggravate me by asking:

"_Aren't_ we having a jolly winter of it, John?"

_I_ never had a good time. _I_ never enjoyed myself like other folks. I spent enough money and made enough good resolutions, but somethingalways occurred to destroy my anticipated pleasure. I can't hear alyceum or debating society mentioned to this day, without feeling"cold-chills" run down my spine. 

I took part in the exercises the evening ours was opened. I had beenrequested by the committee to furnish the poem for the occasion. As Iwas just from a first-class academy, where I had read the valedictory, it was taken for granted that I was the most likely one to "fill thebill. "

I accepted the proposition. To be bashful is a far different thingfrom being modest. I wrote the poem. I sat up nights to do it. The waycandles were consumed caused father to wonder where his best box ofspermacetis had gone to. I knew I could do the poetry, and I firmlyresolved that I would read it through, from beginning to end, in aclear, well-modulated voice, that could be heard by all, including theminister and Belle Marigold. I would not blush, or stammer, or get afrog in my throat. I swore solemnly to myself that I would not. _Somefolks_ should see that my bashfulness was wearing off faster than thegold from an oroide watch. Oh, I would show 'em! Some things could bedone as well as others. I would no longer be the laughing-stock ofBabbletown. My past record should be wiped out! I would write my poem, and I would _read it_--read it calmly and impressively, so as to dofull justice to it. 

I got the poem ready. I committed it to memory, so that if the lightswere dim, or I lost my place, I should not be at the mercy of themanuscript. The night came. I entered the hall with Belle on my arm, early, so as to secure her a front seat. 

"Keep cool, John, " were her whispered words, as I left her to take myplace on the platform. 

"Oh, I shall be cool enough. I know every line by heart; have said itto myself one hundred and nineteen times without missing a word. "

I'm not going to bore you with the poem here; but will give the firstfour lines as they were _written_ and as I _spoke_ them:

 "Hail! Babbletown, fair village of the plain! Hail! friends and fellow-citizens. In vain I strive to sing the glories of this place, Whose history back to early times I trace. "

The room was crowded, the president of the society made a few openingremarks, which closed by presenting Mr. Flutter, the poet of theoccasion. I was quite easy and at home until I arose and bowed as hespoke my name. Then something happened to my senses, I don't knowwhat; I only knew I lost every one of them for about two minutes. Iwas blind, deaf, dumb, tasteless, senseless, and feelingless. Then Icame to a little, rallied, and perceived that some of the boy werebeginning to pound the floor with their heels. I made a feint ofholding my roll of verses nearer the lamp at my right hand, summonedtraitor memory to return, and began:

"Hail!"

Was that my voice? I did not recognize it. It was more as if a mousein the gallery had squeaked. It would never do. I cleared anythroat--which was to have been free from frogs--and a strange, hoarsevoice, no more like mine than a crow is like a nightingale, came outwith a jerk, about six feet away, and remarked, as if surprised:

"Hail!"

With a desperate effort, I resolved that this night or never I was toachieve greatness. I cleared the way again and recommenced:

"Hail!"

A boy's voice at the back of the room was heard to insinuate thatperhaps it would be easier for me to let it snow or rain. That made meangry. I was as cool as ice all in a moment; I felt that I had themastery of the situation, and, making a sweeping gesture with my lefthand, I looked over my hearers' heads, and continued:

"Hail! Fabbletown, bare village of the plain--Babbletown, fair pillageof the vain--. Hail! friends and fellow-citizens--!"

It was evident that I had borrowed somebody else's voice--my ownmother wouldn't have recognized it--and a mighty poor show of a voice, too. It was like a race-horse that suddenly balks, and loses the race. I had put up heavy stakes on that voice, but I couldn't budge it. Notan inch faster would it go. In vain I whipped and spurred in silentdesperation--it balked at "fellow-citizens, " and there it stuck. Theaudience, good-naturedly, waited five minutes. At the end of thattime, I sat down, amid general applause, conscious that I had madethe sensation of the evening. 

Belle gave me the mitten that evening, and went home in Fred Hencoop'ssleigh. 

We didn't speak, after that, until about a week before the fair. She, with some other girls, then came in the store to beg for "scraps" ofsilk, muslin, and so-forth, to dress dolls for the fair. They werevery sweet, for they knew they could make a fool of me. Father was notin, and I guess they timed their visit so that he wouldn't be. Theygot half a yard of pink silk, as much of blue, ditto of lilac andblack, a yard of every kind of narrow ribbon in the store, a remnantof book-muslin, three yards--in all, about six dollars' worth of"scraps, " and then asked me if I wasn't going to give a box of raisinsand the coffee for the table. I said I would. 

"And you'll come, Mr. Flutter, won't you? It'll be a failure unless_you_ are there. You must _promise_ to come. We won't go out of thisstore till you do. And, oh, don't forget to bring _your purse_ along. We expect all the young gentlemen to _come prepared_, you know. "

There is no doubt that I went to the fair. It made my heart ache to doit--for I'd already been pretty extravagant, one way and another--butI put a ten-dollar bill in my wallet, resolved to spend every cent ofit rather than appear mean. 

I don't know whether I appeared mean or not; I do know that I spentevery penny of that ten dollars, and considerable more besides. Ifthere was anything at that fair that no one else wanted, and that wasnot calculated to supply any known want of the human race, it waspalmed off on me. I became the unhappy possessor of five dresseddolls, a lady's "nubia, " a baby-jumper, fourteen "tidies, " a set ofparlor croquet with wickets that wouldn't stand on their legs, apatent churn warranted to make a pound of fresh butter in threeminutes out of a quart of chalk-and-water, a set of ladies' nightcaps, two child's aprons, a castle-in-the-air, a fairy-palace, a doll'splay-house, a toy-balloon, a box of marbles, a pair of spectacles, apair of pillow-shams, a young lady's work-basket, seven needle-books, a cradle-quilt, a good many bookmarks, a sofa-cushion, and an infant'srattle, warranted to cut one's eye teeth; besides which I had ticketsin a fruit cake, a locket, a dressing-bureau, a baby-carriage, alady's watch-chain, and an infant's wardrobe complete. 

When I feebly remonstrated that I'd spent all the money I brought, Iwas smilingly assured by innumerable female Tootses that "it was of noconsequence"; but I found there _were_ consequences when I came tosettle afterward for half the things at the fair, because I was toobashful to say No, boldly. 

Fred Hencoop auctioned off the remaining articles after eleveno'clock. Every time he put up something utterly unsalable, he wouldlook over at me, nod, and say: "Thank you, John; did you say fiftycents?" or "Did I hear you say a dollar? A dollar--dollar--going, goneto our friend and patron, John Flutter, Jr. , " and some of the ladymanagers would "make a note of it, " and I was too everlastinglyembarrassed to deny it. 

"John, " said father, about four o'clock in the afternoon the day afterthe fair--"John, did you buy all these things?"--the front part of thestore was piled and crammed with my unwilling purchases. 

"Father, I don't know whether I did or not. "

"How much is the bill?"

"$98. 17. "

"How are you going to pay it?"

"I've got the hundred dollars in bank grandmother gave me when shedied. "

"Draw the money, pay your debts, and either get married at once andmake these things useful, or we'll have a bonfire in the back yard. "

"I guess we'd better have the bonfire, father. I don't care for anygirl but Belle, and she won't have me. "

"Won't have you! I'm worth as much as Squire Marigold any day. "

"I know it, father; but I took her down to supper last night, and Iwas so confused, with all the married ladies looking on, I made amess of it. I put two teaspoonfuls of sugar in her oyster stew, salted her coffee, and insisted on her taking pickles with herice-cream. She didn't mind that so much, but when I stuffed my saucerinto my pocket, and conducted her into the coal-cellar instead of thehall, she got out of patience. Father, I think I'd better go toArizona in the spring. I'm--"

"Go to grass! if you want to, " was the unfeeling reply; "but don't youever go to another fair, unless I go along to take care of you. "

But I think the bonfire made him feel better. 

CHAPTER V. 

HE COMMITS SUICIDE. 

Two days after the fair (one day after the bonfire), some time duringthe afternoon, I found myself alone in the store. Business was so dullthat father, with a yawn, said he guessed he'd go to the post-officeand have a chat with the men. 

"Be sure you don't leave the store a moment alone, John, " was hisparting admonition. 

Of course I wouldn't think of such a thing--he need not have mentionedit. I was a good business fellow for my age; the only blunders I evermade were those caused by my failing--the unhappy failing to which Ihave hitherto alluded. 

I sat mournfully on the counter after father left me, my headreclining pensively against a pile of ten-cent calicoes; I wasthinking of my grandmother's legacy gone up in smoke--of how Bellelooked when she found I had conducted her into the coal-cellar--ofthose tidies, cradle-quilts, bib-aprons, dolls' and ladies' fixings, which had been nefariously foisted upon me, a base advantage taken ofmy diffidence!--and I felt sad. I felt more than melancholy--I feltmad. I resented the tricks of the fair ones. And I made a mightyresolution! "Never--never--never, " said I, between my clenched teeth, "will I again be guilty of the crime of bashfulness--_never_!"

I felt that I could face a female regiment--all Babbletown! I wasindignant; and there's nothing like honest, genuine indignation togive courage. Oh, I'd show 'em. I wouldn't give a cent when the deaconpassed the plate on Sundays; I wouldn't subscribe to the char----

In the midst of my dark and vengeful resolutions I heard merry voiceson the pavement outside. 

Hastily raising my head from the pile of calicoes, I saw at least fivegirls making for the store door--a whole bevy of them coming in uponme at once. They were the same rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, deceitful, shameless creatures who had persuaded me into such folly at the fair. There was Hetty Slocum, the girl who coaxed me into buying the doll;and Maggie Markham, who sold me the quilt; and Belle, and two others, and they were chatting and giggling over some joke, and had to stop onthe steps until they could straighten their faces. I grewfire-red--with indignation. 

"Oh, father, why are you not here?" I cried inwardly. "Oh, father, what a shame to go off to the post-office and leave your son to facethese tried to feel as I felt five minutes before, like facing afemale regiment. _Now_ was the time to prove my courage--to turn overa new leaf, take a new departure, begin life over again, show to thesegiggling girls that I had some pride--some self-independence--someself-resp----"

The door creaked on its hinges, and at the sound a blind confusionseized me. In vain I attempted, like a brave but despairing general, to rally my forces; but they all deserted me at once; I was hiddenbehind the calicoes, and with no time to arrange for a nobler plan ofescaping a meeting with the enemy--no auger-hole though which tocrawl. I followed the first impulse, stooped, and _hid under thecounter_. 

In a minute I wished myself out of that; but the minute had been toomuch--the bevy had entered and approached the counter, at the veryplace behind which I lay concealed. I was so afraid to breathe; thecold sweat started on my forehead. 

"Why! there's no one in the store!" exclaimed Belle's voice. 

"Oh, yes; there must be. Let us look around and see, " respondedMaggie, and they went tiptoeing around the room, peeping here andthere, while I silently tore my hair. I was so afraid they would comebehind the counter and discover me. 

In three minutes, which seemed as many hours, they came to thestarting-point again. 

"There isn't a soul here. "

"La, how funny! We might take something. "

"Yes, if we were thieves, what a fine opportunity we would have. "

"I'll bet three cents it's John's fault; his father would never leavethe store in this careless way. "

"What a queer fellow he is, anyway!"

"Ha, ha, ha! so perfectly absurd! _Isn't_ it fun when he's about?"

"I never was so tickled in my life as when he bought that quilt. "

"I thought I would die laughing when he took me into the coal-cellar, but I kept a straight face. "

"Do _you_ think he's good-looking, Hetty?"

"Who? John Flutter! _good-looking_? He's a perfect fright. "

"That's just what I think. Oh, isn't it too good to see the way henurses that little mustache of his? I'm going to send him amagnifying-glass, so that he can count the hairs with less trouble. "

"If you will, I'll send a box of cold cream; we can send them throughthe post-office, and he'll never find out who they came from. "

"Jolly! we'll do it! Belle won't send anything, for he's dead in lovewith _her_. "

"Much good it'll do him, girls! Do you suppose I wouldn't marry thatsimpleton if he was made of gold. "

"Did you ever see such a red face as he has? I would be afraid to comenear it with a light dress on. "

"And his ears!"

"Monstrous! and always burning. "

"And the awkwardest fellow that ever blundered into a parlor. You knowthe night he waited on me to Hetty's party? he stepped on my toes sothat I had to poultice them before I went to bed; he tore the trainall off my pink tarlatan; he spilled a cup of hot coffee down old Mrs. Ballister's back, and upset his saucer of ice-cream over Ada's sweetnew book-muslin. Why, girls, just as sure as I am standing here, I sawhim cram the saucer into his pocket when Belle came up to speak withhim! I tell you, I was glad to get home that night without any moreaccidents. "

"They say he always puts the tea-napkins into his pocket when he takestea away from home. But it's not kleptomania, it's only bashfulness. Inever heard before of his pocketing the saucers. "

"Well, he really did. It's awful funny. I don't know how we'd getalong without John this winter--he makes all the fun we have. What'sthat?"

"I don't know, it sounded like rats gnawing the floor. "

(It was only the amusing John gritting his teeth, I am able toexplain). 

"Did you ever notice his mouth?--how large it is. "

"Yes, it's frightful. I don't wonder he's ashamed of himself with thatmouth. "

"I don't mind his mouth so much--but his _nose_! I never did like aturn-up nose in a man. But his father's pretty well off. It would benice to marry a whole store full of dry-goods and have a new dressevery time you wanted one. I wonder where they have gone to! I believeI'll rap. "

The last speaker seized the yard-stick and thumped on the counterdirectly over my head. 

"Oh, girls! let's go behind, and see how they keep things. I wonderhow many pieces of dress-silk there are left!"

"I guess I'll go behind the counter, and play clerk. If any one comesin, I'll go, as sure as the world! and wait on 'em. Won't it be fun?There comes old Aunty Harkness now. I dare say she is after a spool ofthread or a paper of needles. I'm going to wait on her. Mr. Flutterwon't care--I'll explain when he comes in. What do you want, auntie?"in a very loud voice. 

My head buzzed like a saw--my heart made such a loud thud against myside I thought stars! she wanted "an ounce o' snuff, " and thatarticle was kept in a glass jar in plain sight on the other side ofthe store. There was a movement in that direction, and I recoveredpartially, I half resolved to rise up suddenly--pretend I'd beenhiding for fun--and laugh the whole thing off as a joke. But theinsulting, the ridiculous comments I had overheard, had made me tooindignant. Pretty joke, indeed! But I wished I had obeyed the dictatesof prudence and affected to consider it so. Father came bustling inwhile the girls were trying to tie up the snuff, and sneezingbeautifully. 

"What! what! young ladies! Where's John?"

"That's more than we know--tschi-he! We've been waiting at least tenminutes. Auntie Harkness wanted some stch-uff, and we thought we'd doit for her. I s'pose you've no objections, Mr. Flutter?"

"Not the least in the world, girls. Go ahead. I wonder where John is!There! you'll sneeze your pretty noses off--let me finish it. John hasno business to leave the store. I don't like it--five cents, auntie, to _you_--and I told him particularly not to leave it a minute. Idon't understand it; very sorry you've been kept waiting. What shall Ishow you, young lady?" and father passed behind the counter and stoodwith his toes touching my legs, notwithstanding I had shrunk into assmall space as was convenient, considering my size and weight. It wasgetting toward dusk of the short winter afternoon, and I hoped andprayed he wouldn't notice me. 

"What shall I show you, young ladies?"

"Some light kid gloves, No. 6, please. "

"Yes, certainly--here they are. I do believe there's a strange dogunder the counter! Get out--get out, sir, I say!" and my cruel parentgave me a vicious kick. 

I pinched his leg impressively. I meant it as a warning, to betray tohim that it was I, and to implore him, figuratively, to keep silence. 

But he refused to comprehend that agonized pinch; he resented it. Hegave another vicious kick. Then he stooped and looked under--it was alittle dark--too dark, alas! under there. He saw a man--but not torecognize him. 

"Ho!" he yelled; "robber! thief! burglar! I've got you, fellow! Comeout o' that!"

I never before realized father's strength. He got his hand in mycollar, and he jerked me out from under that counter, and shook me, and held me off at arm's length. 

"There, Mr. Burglar, " said he, triumphantly, "sneak in here againwill--JOHN!"

The girls had been screaming and running, but they stood still now. 

"Yes, _John_!" said I, in desperation. "The drawer came loose underthe counter, and I was nailing on a strip of board when those _youngladies_ came in. I kept quiet, just for fun. They began to talk in aninteresting manner, curiosity got the better of politeness, and I'mafraid I've played eavesdropper, " and I made a killing bow, meantespecially for Belle. 

"Well, you're a pretty one!" exclaimed father. 

"_So they say_, " said I. "Don't leave, young ladies. I'd like to sellyou a magnifying-glass, and some cold cream. " But they all left in ahurry. They didn't even buy a pair of gloves. 

The girls must have told of it, for the story got out, and Fredadvised me to try counter-irritation for my bashfulness. 

"You're not a burglar, " said he, "but you're guilty ofcounter-fitting. "

"Nothing would suit me better, " I retorted, "than to be tried for it, and punished by solitary confinement. "

And there was nothing I should have liked so much. The iron hadentered my soul. I was worse than ever. I purchased a four-ounce vialof laudanum, went to my room, and wrote a letter to my mother:

"Mother, I am tired of life. My nose is turn-up, my mouth is large; Ipocket other people's saucers and napkins; I am always makingblunders. This is my last blunder. I shall never blush again. Farewell. Let the inscription on my tombstone be--'Died ofBashfulness. ' JOHN. "

And I swallowed the contents of the vial, and threw myself on mylittle bed. 

CHAPTER VI. 

HE IS DOOMED FOR WORSE ACCIDENTS. 

It may seem strange for you to hear of me again, after the conclusionof the last chapter of my blunders. But it was not I who made the lastblunder--it was the druggist. Quite by mistake the imbecile who waitedupon me put up four ounces of the aromatic syrup of rhubarb. I feltmyself gradually sinking into the death-sleep after I had taken it;with the thought of Belle uppermost in my mind, I allowed myself tosink--"no more catastrophes after this last and grandest one--no morered faces--big mouth--tea-napkins--wonder--if she--will be--sorry!"and I became unconscious. 

I was awakened from a comfortable slumber by loud screams; motherstood by my bed, with the vial labeled "laudanum" in one hand, myletter in the other. Father rushed into the room. 

"Father, John's committed suicide. Oh! bring the tartar-emetic quick!Make some coffee as strong as lye! Oh! send for a stomach-pump. TellMary to bring the things and put the coffee on; and you come here, an'we'll walk him up and down--keep him a-going--that's his onlysalvation! Oh! John, John! that ever your bashfulness should drive youinto this! Up with him, father! Oh! he's dying! He ain't able to helphimself one bit!"

They dragged me off the bed, and marched me up and down the room. Supposing, as a matter of course, that I ought to be expiring, I feltthat I was expiring. My knees tottered under me; they only hauled mearound the more violently. They forced a spoonful of tartar-emeticdown my throat; Mary, the servant-girl, poured a quart of black coffeedown me, half outside and half in; then they jerked me about the flooragain, as if we were dancing a Virginia reel. 

The doctor came and poked a long rubber tube down and converted meinto a patent pump, until the tartar-emetic, and the coffee, and thepumpkin-pie I had eaten for dinner had all revisited this mundanesphere. 

They had no mercy on me; I promenaded up and down and across withfather, with Mary, with the doctor, until I felt that I should die ifthey didn't allow me to stop promenading. 

The worst of it was, the house was full of folks; they crowded aboutthe chamber door and looked at me, dancing up and down with the hiredgirl and the doctor. 

"Shut the door--they shall _not_ look at me!" I gasped, at last. Thedoctor felt my pulse and said proudly to my mother:

"Madam, your son will live! Our skill and vigilance have saved him. "

"Bless you, doctor!" sobbed my parents. 

"I will _not_ live, " I moaned, "to be the laughing stock ofBabbletown. I will buy some more. "

"John, " said my father, weeping, "arouse yourself! You shall leavethis place, if you desire it--only live! I will get you the positionof weather-gauger on top of Mount Washington, if you say so, but don'tcommit any more suicide, my son!"

I was affected, and promised that I wouldn't, provided that I wasfound a situation somewhere by myself. So the excitement subsided. Father slept with me that night, keeping one eye open; the doctor gotthe credit of saving my life, and the girls of Babbletown were scaredout of laughing at me for a whole month. 

When we came to talk the matter over seriously--father and I--it wasfound to be too late in the season to procure me the Mount Washingtonappointment for the winter; besides, the effect of my attempt to"shuffle off this mortal coil" was to literally overrun our store withcustomers. People came from the country for fifteen miles around, inox teams, on horse-back, in sleighs and cutters, and bob-sleds, andcrockery-crates, to buy something, in hopes of getting a glimpse ofthe bashful young man who swallowed the pizen. Now, father was toocute a Yankee not to take advantage of the mob. He forgot hispromises, and made me stay in the store from morning till night, sothat women could say: "I bought this 'ere shirting from the young manwho committed suicide; he did it up with his own hands. "

"I'll give you a fair share o' the profits, John, " father would say, slyly. 

Well, things went on as it greased; the girls mostly stayed away--theBabbletown girls, for they had guilty consciences, I suspect; and inFebruary there came a thaw. I stood looking out of the store windowone day; the snow had melted in the street, and right over the stonesthat had been laid across the road for a walk, there was a greatpuddle of muddy water about two yards wide and a foot deep. I soon sawHetty Slocum tripping across the street; she came to the puddle andstood still; the soft slush was heaped up on either side--she couldn'tget around and she couldn't go through. My natural gallantry got thebetter of my resentment, and I went out to help her over, notwithstanding what she had said when I was under the counter. Planting one foot firmly in the center of the puddle and bracing theother against the curb-stone, I extended my hand. 

"If you're good at jumping, Miss Slocum, " said I, "I'll land yousafely on this side. "

"Oh, " said she, roguishly, "Mr. Flutter, can I trust you?" and shereached out her little gloved hand. 

All my old embarrassment rushed over me. I became nervous at thecritical moment when I should have been cool. I never could tell justhow it happened--whether her glove was slippery, or my foot slipped ona piece of ice under slush, or what--but the next moment we were bothof us sitting down in fourteen inches of very cold, very muddy water. 

[Illustration: THE NEXT MOMENT WE WERE BOTH OF US SITTING DOWN INFOURTEEN INCHES OF VERY COLD, VERY MUDDY WATER. ]

My best beaver hat flew off and was run over by a passing sled, whilea little dog ran away with Hetty's seal-skin muff. 

I floundered around in that puddle for about two minutes, and then Igot up. Hetty still sat there. She was white, she was so mad. 

"I might a known better, " said she. "Let me alone. I'd sit hereforever, before I'd let _you_ help me up. "

The boys were coming home from school, and they began to hoot andlaugh. I ran after the little dog who was making off with the muff. How Hetty got up, or who came to her rescue I don't know. That curbelonged about four miles out of town, and he never let up until hegot home. 

I grabbed the muff just as he was disappearing under the house withit, and then I walked slowly back. The people who didn't know me tookme for an escaped convict--I was water-soaked and muddy, hatless, andhad a sneaking expression, like that of a convicted horse-thief. Twoor three persons attempted to arrest me. Finally, two stout farmerssucceeded, and brought me into the village in triumph, and marched mebetween them to the jail. 

"Why, what's Mr. Flutter been doin'?" asked the sheriff, coming out tomeet us. 

"Do you mean to say you know him?" inquired one of the men. 

"Yes, I know him. That's our esteemed fellow-citizen, young Flutter. "

"And he ain't no horse-thief nor nuthin'!"

"Not a bit of it, I assure you. "

The man eyed me from head to foot, critically and contemptuously. 

"Then all I've got to say, " he remarked slowly, "is this--appearancesis very deceptive. "

It was getting dusk by this time, and I was thankful for it. 

"I slipped down in a mud-puddle and lost my hat, " I explained to thesheriff, as I turned away, and had the satisfaction of hearing theother one of my arresters say, behind my back:

"Oh, drunk!"

I hired a little boy, for five cents, to deliver Miss Slocum's muff ather residence. Then I went into the house by the kitchen, bribed Maryto clean my soiled pants without telling mother, slipped up-stairs, and went to bed without my supper. 

The next day I bought a handsome seven-dollar ring, and sent it toHetty as some compensation for the damage done to her dress. 

That evening was singing-school evening. I went early, so as to get myseat without attracting attention. Early as I was, I was not thefirst. A group of young people was gathered about the greatblack-board, on which the master illustrated his lessons. They werehaving lots of fun, and did not notice me as I came in. I stolequietly to a seat behind a pillar. Fred Hencoop was drawing somethingon the board, and explaining it. As he drew back and pointed with thelong stick, I saw a splendid caricature of myself pursuing a smalldog with a muff, while a young lady sat quietly in a mud-puddle in thecorner of the black-board, and Fred was saying, with intense gravity:

"This is the man, all tattered and torn, that spattered the maiden allforlorn. _This_ is the dog that stole the muff. _This_ is the ring hesent the maid--"

"Muff-in ring, " suggested some one, and then they laughed louder thanever. 

I felt that that singing-school was no place for me that evening, andI stole away as noiselessly as I had entered. 

I went home and packed my trunk. The next morning I said to father:

"Give me my share of the profits for the last month, " and he gave meone hundred and thirty dollars. "I am going where no one knows me, mother, so good-bye. You'll hear from me when I'm settled, " and I wasactually off on the nine o'clock New York express. 

Every seat was full in every car but one--one seat beside a pretty, fashionably-dressed young lady was vacant. I stood up against thewood-box and looked at that seat, as a boy looks at a jar ofpeppermint-drops in a candy-store window. After a while I reflectedthat these people were all strangers, and, of course, unaware of myinfirmity; this gave me a certain degree of courage. I left thesupport of the wood-box and made my way along the aisle until I cameto the vacant seat. 

"Miss, " I began, politely, but the lady purposely looked the otherway; she had her bag in the place where I wanted to sit, and shedidn't mean to move it, if she could help it. "Miss, " I said again, ina louder tone. 

Two or three people looked at us. That confused me; her refusing tolook around confused me; one of my old bad spells began to come on. 

"Miss, " I whispered, leaning toward her, blushing and embarrassed, "Iwould like to know if you are engaged--if--if you are taken, I mean?"

She looked at me then sharp enough. 

"Yes, sir, I _am_, " she said calmly; "and going to be married nextweek. "

The passengers began to laugh, and I began to back out. I didn't stopat the wood-box, but retreated into the next car, where I stood untilmy legs ached, and then sat down by an ancient lady, with a long nose, blue spectacles, and a green veil. 

CHAPTER VII. 

I MAKE A NARROW ESCAPE. 

It is a serious thing to be as bashful as I am. There's nothing at allfunny about it, though some people seem to think there is. I wasassured, years ago, that it would wear off and betray the brassunderneath; but I must have been triple-plated. I have had rubs enoughto wear out a wash-board, yet there doesn't a bit of brass come to thesurface yet. Beauty may be only skin-deep; modesty, like mine, pervades the grain. If I really believed my bashfulness was onlycuticle-deep, I'd be flayed to-day, and try and grow a hardiercomplexion without any Bloom of Youth in it. No use! I could pave aten-thousand-acre prairie with the "good intentions" I have wasted, the firm resolutions I have broken. Born to be bashful is only anotherway of expressing the Bible truth, "Born to trouble as the sparks areto fly upward. "

When I sat down by the elderly lady in the railway train, I feltcomparatively at ease. She was older than mother, and I didn't mindher rather aggressive looks and ways; in short, I seemed to feel thatin case of necessity she would protect me. Not that I was afraid ofanything, but she would probably at least keep me from proposing toany more young ladies. Alas! how _could_ I have any presentiment ofthe worse danger lurking in store for me? How could I, young, innocent, and inexperienced, foresee the unforeseeable? I could not. Reviewing all the circumstances by the light of wiser days, I stilldeny that I was in any way, shape, or manner to blame for whatoccurred. I sat in my half of the seat, occupying as little room aspossible, my eyes fixed on the crimson plush cushions of the seatbefore me, my thoughts busy with the mortifying past, and the greatunknown future into which I was blindly rushing at the rate of thirtymiles an hour--sat there, dreading the great city into which I was sosoon to plunge--when a voice, closely resembling vinegar sweetenedwith honey, said, close to my ear:

"Goin' to New York, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am, " I answered, coming out of my reverie with a little jump. 

"I'm real glad, " said my companion, taking off her blue spectacles, and leaning toward me confidentially; "so I am. I'm quite unprotected, sir, quite, and I shall be thankful to place myself under your care. I'm goin' down to the city to buy my spring stock o' millinery, an'any little attention you can show me will be gratefullyreceived--gratefully. I don't mind admitting to _you_, young man, foryou look pure and uncorrupted, that I am terribly afraid of men. Theyare wicked, heartless creatures. I feel that I might more safely trustmyself with ravening wolves than with men in general, but _you_ aredifferent. _You_ have had a good mother. "

"Yes, ma'am, I have, " I responded, rather warmly. 

I was pleased at her commendation of me and mother, but puzzled as tothe character of the danger to which she referred. I finally concludedthat she was afraid of being robbed, and I put my lips close to herear, so that no one should overhear us, and asked:

"Do you carry your money about you?--you ought not to run such a risk. I've been told there are always one or more thieves on every expresstrain. "

"My dear young friend, " she whispered back, very, very close in myear, "I was not thinking of money--_that_ is all in checks, safelydeposited in--in--in te-he! inside the lining of my waist. I was onlyreferring to the dangers which ever beset the unmarried lady, especially the unsophisticated maiden, far, far from her nativevillage. Why, would you believe it, already, sir, since I left home, aman, a _gentleman_, sitting in the very seat where you sit now, madelove to me, out-and-out!"

"Made love to you?" I stammered, shrinking into the farthest corner, and regarding her with undisguised astonishment. 

"You may well appear surprised. Promise me that you will remain by myside until we reach our destination. "

She appeared kind of nervous and agitated, and I promised. Instead ofbeing protected, I found myself figuring in the _role_ of protector. My timid companion did the most of the talking; she pumped me prettydry of facts about myself, and confided to me that she was doing agood business--making eight hundred a year clear profit--and all shewanted to complete her satisfaction was the right kind of a partner. 

She proposed to me to become that partner. I said that I did notunderstand the millinery business; she said I had been a clerk in adry-goods store, and that was the first step; I said I didn't think Ishould fancy the bonnet line. She said I should be a _silent_ partner;all in the world I'd have to do would be to post the books, and she'dwarrant me a thousand dollars a year, for the business would double. Isaid I had but one hundred and thirty dollars; she said, write to mypa for more, but she'd take me without a cent--there was something inmy face that showed her I was to be trusted. 

She was so persistent that I began to be alarmed--I felt that I shouldbe drawn into that woman's clutches against my will. I got pale andcold, and the perspiration broke out on my brow. Was it for this Ihad fled from home and friends? To become a partner in thehat-and-bonnet business, with a dreadful old maid, who wore bluespectacles and curled her false hair. I shivered. 

"Poor darling!" said she, "the boy is cold, " and she wrapped me up ina big plaid shawl of her own. 

The very touch of that shawl made me feel as if I had a thousandcaterpillars crawling over me; yet I was too bashful to break loosefrom its folds. I grew feverish. 

"There, " said she, "you are getting your color back. "

The more attention she paid to me the more homesick I grew. I lookedpiteously in the conductor's face as he passed by. He smiledrelentlessly. I glanced wildly yet furtively about to see if, perchance, a vacant seat were to be descried. 

"Rest thy head on this shoulder; thou art weary, " she said. "I willput my veil over your face and you can catch a nap. "

But I was not to be caught napping. 

"No, I thank you--I never sleep in the day time, " I stammered. 

Oh, what a ride I was having! How wretched I felt! Yet I was toobashful to shake off the shawl and stand up before a car-load ofpeople. 

Suddenly, something happened. The blue spectacles flew over my head, and I flew over the seat in front of me. Thank goodness! I was savedfrom that female! I picked myself up from out of the _débris_ of thewreck. I saw a green veil, and a lady looking around for her lostteeth, and having ascertained that no one was killed, I limped awayand hid behind a stump. I stayed behind that stump three mortal hours. When the train went again on its winding way I was not one of thepassengers. I walked, bruised and sore as I was, to the nearestvillage, and took the first train in the opposite direction. Thatevening, as father and mother were sitting down to their solitary butexcellent tea, I walked in on 'em. 

"No more foreign trips for me, " said I; "I will stick to Babbletown, and try and stand the consequences. "

About four days after this, father laid a letter on the counter beforeme--a large, long, yellow envelope, with a big red seal. "Read that, "was his brief comment. 

I took it up, unfolded the foolscap, and read:

 "JOHN FLUTTER, SENIOR:--I have the honor to inform you that my client, Miss Alvira Slimmens, has instructed me to proceed against your son for breach of promise of marriage, laying her damages at twelve hundred dollars. As your son is not legally of age, we shall hold you responsible. A compromise, to avoid publicity of suit, is possible. Send us your check for $1, 000 and you will hear no more of this matter. 

"Respectfully, "WILLIAM BLACK, Attorney-at-Law, "_Pennyville, N. Y. _"

"Oh, father!" I cried, "I swear to you this is not my fault!" Lookingup in distress I saw that my parent was laughing. 

"I have heard of Alvira before, " said he; "no, it is _not_ your fault, my poor boy. Let me see, Alvira was thirty twenty-one years ago when Iwas married to your ma. I used to be in Pennyville sometimes, in thosedays, and she was sweet on me, John, then. I'll answer this letter, and answer it to her, and not her lawyer. Don't you be uneasy, my son. I'll tend to her. But you had a narrow escape; I don't wonder you, with your bashfulness, fled homeward to your ma. "

"Then it wasn't my blunder this time, father?"

"I exonerate you, my son!"

For once a glow of happiness diffused itself over my much-triedspirits. I was so exalted that when a young lady came in for a bottleof bandoline I gave her Spaulding's prepared glue instead; and thenext time I met that young lady she wore a bang--she had used thenew-fangled bandoline, and the only way to get the stuff out of herhair was to cut it off. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

HE ENACTS THE PART OF GROOMSMAN. 

"Out of the frying-pan into the fire!" This should have been my chosenmotto from the beginning. The performance of the maddening featindicated in the proverb has been the principal business of my life. Iam always finding myself in the frying-pan, and always flopping outinto the fire. My father's interference saved me from the dreadful oldcreature into whose net I had stumbled when I fled from my nativevillage, only to return with the certainty that I was unfit to copewith the world outside of it. 

"I will never put my foot beyond the township line again, " I vowed tomy secret soul. I had a harrowing sorrow preying upon me all theremainder of the winter. I was given to understand that Belle Marigoldwas actually engaged to Fred Hencoop. And she might have been mine!Alas, that mighty _might_!

 "Of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are these--'It might have been!'"

I am positive that when I first came home from school she admired mevery much. She welcomed my early attentions. It was only theridiculous blunders into which my bashfulness continually drove methat alienated her regard. If I had not caught my foot in the reinsthat time I got out of the buggy in front of her house--if I had notfallen in the water and had my clothes shrink in drying--nor chokedalmost to death--nor got under the counter--nor failed to "speak mypiece"--nor sat down in that mud-puddle--nor committed suicide--norrun away from home--nor performed any other of the thousand-and-oneabsurd feats into which my constitutional embarrassment waseverlastingly urging me, I declare boldly, "Belle might have beenmine. " She had encouraged me at first. Now it was too late. She had"declined, " as Tennyson says, "on a lower love than mine"--on FredHencoop's. 

The thought was despair. Never did I realized of what the human heartis capable until Belle came into the store, one lovely spring morning, looking like a seraph in a new spring bonnet, and blushingly--with asaucy flash of her dark eyes that made her rising color all the moredivine--inquired for table-damask and 4-4 sheetings. 

With an ashen brow and quivering lip, I displayed before her our bestassortment of table-cloths and napkins, pillow-casing and sheeting. Her mother accompanied her to give her the benefit of her experience;and kept telling her daughter to choose the best, and what and howmany dozens she had before she was married. 

They ran up a big bill at the store that morning, and father camebehind the counter to help, and was mightily pleased; but I felt as ifI were measuring off cloth for my own shroud. 

"Come, John, you go do up the sugar for Widow Smith, her boy iswaiting, " said my parent, seeing the muddle into which I was gettingthings. "I will attend to these ladies--twelve yards of thepillow-casing, did you say, Mrs. Marigold?"

I moved down to the end of the store and weighed and tied up in brownpaper the "three pounds of white sugar to make cake for thesewin'-society, " which the lad had asked for. A little girl came infor a pound of bar-soap, and I attended to her wants. Then anotherboy, with a basket, came in a hurry for a dozen of eggs. You see, ourswas one of those village-stores that combine all things. 

While I waited on these insignificant customers father measured offgreat quantities of white goods for the two ladies; and I strained myears to hear every word that was said. They asked father if he wasgoing to New York _soon_? He said, in about ten days. Then Mrs. Marigold confided to him that they wanted him to purchase twenty-fiveyards of white corded silk. 

If every cord in that whole piece of silk had been drawing about mythroat I couldn't have felt more suffocated. I sat right down, I feltso faint, in a tub of butter. I had just sense enough left to rememberthat I had on my new spring lavender pants. The butter wasdisgustingly soft and mushy. 

"Come here, John, and add up this bill, " called father. 

"I can't; I'm sick. "

I had got up from the tub and was leaning on the counter--I was pale, I know. 

"Why, what's the matter?" he asked. 

Belle cast one guilty look in my direction. "It's the spring weather, I dare say, " she said softly to my parent. 

I sneaked out of the back door and went across the yard to the houseto change my pants. I _was_ sick, and I did not emerge from my roomuntil the dinner-bell rang. 

I went down then, and found father, usually so good-natured, lookingcross, as he carved the roast beef. 

"You will never be good for anything, John, " was his salutation--"atleast, not as a clerk. I've a good mind to write to Captain Hall totake you to the North Pole. "

"What's up, father?"

"Oh, nothing!" _very_ sarcastically. "That white sugar you sent Mrs. Smith was table-salt, and she made a whole batch of cake out of itbefore she discovered her mistake. She was out of temper when she flewin the store, I tell you. I had not only to give her the sugar, butenough butter and eggs to make good her loss, and throw in a neck-tieto compensate her for waste of time. Before she got away, in came themother of the little girl to whom you had given a slab of molassescandy for bar-soap, and said that the child had brought nothing homebut some streaks of molasses on her face. Just as I was coming out todinner the other boy brought back the porcelain eggs you had given himwith word that 'Ma had biled 'em an hour, and she couldn't even budgethe shells. ' So you see, my son, that in a miscellaneous store you arequite out of your element. "

"It was that flirt of a Belle Marigold that upset him, " said mother, laughing so that she spilled the gravy on the table-cloth. "He'll beall right when she is once Mrs. Hencoop. "

That very evening Fred came in the store to ask me to be hisgroomsman. 

"We're going to be married the first of June, " he told me, grinninglike an idiot. 

"Does Belle know that you invite me to be groomsman?" I responded, gloomily. 

"Yes; she suggested that you be asked. Rose Ellis is to bebridesmaid. "

"Very well; I accept. "

"All right, old fellow. Thank you, " slapping me on the back. 

As I lay tossing restlessly on my bed that night--after an hour spentin a vain attempt to take the butter out of my lavenders with Frenchchalk--I made a new and firm resolution. I would make Belle sorry thatshe had given her preference to Fred. I would so bear myself--duringour previous meetings and consultations, and during the day of theceremony--that she should bitterly repent not having given me anopportunity to conquer my diffidence before taking up with FrederickHencoop. The opportunity was given me to redeem myself. I would provethat, although modest, I was a gentleman; that the blushing era ofinexperience could be succeeded by one of calm grandeur. Chesterfieldcould never have been more quietly self-possessed; Beau Brummell moreimperturbable. I would get by heart all the little formalities of theoccasion, and, when the time came, I would execute them withconsummate ease. 

These resolutions comforted me--supported me under the weight ofdespair I had to endure. Ha! yes. I would show some people that somethings could be done as well as others. 

It was four weeks to the first of June. As I had ruined my lavendertrousers I ordered another pair, with suitable neck-tie, vest, andgloves, from New York. I also ordered three different andlately-published books on etiquette. I studied in all three of thesethe etiquette of weddings. I thoroughly posted myself on the ancient, the present, and the future duties of "best men" on such occasions. Ilearned how they do it in China, in Turkey, in Russia, in New Zealand, more particularly how it is done, at present, in England and America. As the day drew nigh I felt equal to the emergency I had a powerfulmotive for acquitting myself handsomely. I wanted to show _her_ what amistake she had made. 

The wedding was to take place in church at eight o'clock in theevening. The previous evening we--that is, the bride-elect, groom, bridesmaid, and groomsman, parents, and two or three friends--had aprivate rehearsal, one of the friends assuming the part of clergyman. All went merry as a marriage bell. I was the soul of ease and grace:Fred was the awkward one, stepping on the bride's train, dropping thering, and so forth. 

"I declare, Mr. Flutter, I never saw any one improve as you have, "said Belle, aside to me, when we had returned to her house. "I do hopepoor Fred will get along better to-morrow. I shall be really vexed athim if anything goes wrong. "

"You must forgive a little flustration on his part, " I loftilyanswered. "Perhaps, were I in his place, I should be agitated too. "

Well, the next evening came, and at seven o'clock I repaired to thesquire's residence. Fred was already there, walking up and down theparlor, a good deal excited, but dressed faultlessly and lookingfrightfully well. 

"Why, John, " was his first greeting, "aren't you going to wear anycravat?"

I put my hand up to my neck and dashed madly back a quarter of a milefor the delicate white silk tie I had left on my dressing bureau. This, of course, made me uncomfortably warm. When I got back to thesquire's I was in a perspiration, felt that my calm brow was flushed, and had to wipe it with my handkerchief. 

"Come, " said that impatient Fred, "you have just two minutes to getyour gloves on. "

My hands were damp, and being hurried had the effect to make menervous, in spite of four long weeks' constant resolution. What withthe haste and perspiration, I tore the thumb completely out of theleft glove. 

Never mind; no time to mend, in spite of the proverb. 

The bride came down-stairs, cool, white, and delicious as an orangeblossom. She was helped into one carriage; Fred and I entered another. 

"I hope you feel cool, " I said to Fred. 

"I hope _you_ do, " he retorted. 

I have always laid the catastrophe which followed to the first mistakein having to fly home for my neck-tie. I was disconcerted by that, andI couldn't exactly get concerted again. 

I don't know what happened after the carriage stopped at the churchdoor--I must take the report of my friends for it. They say that Ibolted at the last moment, and followed the bride up one aisle insteadof the groom up the other, as I should have done. But I was perfectlycalm and collected. Oh, yes, that was why, when we attempted to formin front of the altar, I insisted on standing next to Belle, and whenI was finally pushed into my place by the irate Fred, I kept divingforward every time the clergyman said anything, trying to take thebride's hand, and responding, "Belle, I take thee to be my lawful, wedded, " answering, "I do, " loudly, to every question, even to that"Who gives this woman?" etc. , until every man, woman, and child inchurch was tittering and giggling, and the holy man had to come to afull pause, and request me to realize that it was not I who was beingmarried. 

"I do. With all my worldly goods I thee endow, " was my reply to hisreminder. 

"For Heaven's sake subside, or I'll thrash you within an inch of yourlife when I get out of this, " whispered Fred. 

Dimly mistrusting that I was on the wrong track, I turned and seizedMrs. Marigold by the hand, and began to feel in my pocket for a ring, because I saw the groom taking one out of his pocket. 

The giggling and tittering increased; somebody--father or theconstable--took me by the shoulder and marched me out of that; afterwhich, I suppose, the ceremony was duly concluded. I only know thatsomebody knocked me down about five minutes afterward--I have beentold that it was the bridegroom who did it--and that all the books ofetiquette on earth won't fortify a man against the attacks ofconstitutional bashfulness. 

CHAPTER IX. 

MEETS A PAIR OF BLUE EYES. 

I kept pretty quiet the remainder of that summer--didn't even attendchurch for several weeks. In fact, I got father to give me a vacation, and beat a retreat into the country during the month of July, to anaunt of mine, who lived on a small farm with her husband, her son offourteen, and a "hand. " Their house was at least a mile from thenearest neighbor's, and as I was less afraid of Aunt Jerusha than ofany other being of her sex, and as there was not another frock, sun-bonnet, or apron within the radius of a mile, I promised myself amonth of that negative bliss which comes from retrospection, solitude, and the pleasure of following the men about the harvest-field. Sittingquietly under some shadowing tree, with my line cast into the stillpool of a little babbling trout-brook, where it was held in somehollow of nature's hand, I had leisure to forget the past and to makegood resolutions for the future. Belle Marigold was forever lost tome. She was Mrs. Hencoop; and Fred had knocked me down because I hadbeen so unfortunate as to lose my presence of mind at his wedding. All was over between us. 

The course now open for me to pursue was to forever steel my heart tothe charms of the other sex, to attend strictly to business, to growrich and honored, while, at the same time, I hardened into a sort ofgranite obelisk, incapable of blushing, faltering, or stepping onother people's toes. 

One day, as the men were hauling in the "loaded wains" from the fieldsto the great barn, I sat under my favorite tree, as usual, waiting fora bite. Three speckled beauties already lay in a basin of water at myside, and I was thinking what a pleasant world this would be werethere no girls in it, when suddenly I heard a burst of silverylaughter!

Looking up, there, on the opposite side of the brook, stood two youngladies! They were evidently city girls. Their morning toilets were theperfection of simple elegance--hats, parasols, gloves, dresses, thevery cream of style. 

Both of them were pretty--one a dark, bright-eyed brunette, the othera blonde, fair as a lily and sweet as a rose. Their faces sparkledwith mischief, but they made a great effort to resume their dignity. 

I jumped to my feet, putting one of them--my feet, I mean--in thebasin of water I had for my trout. 

"Oh, it's too bad to disturb you, sir, " said the dark-eyed one. "Youwere just having a nibble, I do believe. But we have lost our way. Weare boarding at the Widow Cooper's, and came out for a ramble in thewoods, and got lost; and here, just as we thought we were on the rightway home, we came to this naughty little river, or whatever you callit, and can't go a step farther. Is there no way of getting across it, sir?"

"There is a bridge about a quarter of a mile above here, but to get toit you will have to go through a field in which there is a very crossbull. Then there is a log just down here a little ways--I'll show itto you, ladies"; and tangling my beautiful line inextricably in myembarrassment, I threw down my fishing-rod and led the way, I on oneside of the stream and they on the other. 

"Oh, oh!" cried Blue-Eyes, when we reached the log. "I'll be sure toget dizzy and fall off. "

"Nonsense!" said Black-Eyes, bravely, and walked over without winking. 

"I shall never--never dare!" screamed Blue-Eyes. 

"Allow me to assist you, miss, " I said, in my best style, going on thelog and reaching out my hand to steady her. 

She laid her little gray glove in my palm, and put one tiny slipper onthe log, and then she stood, the little coquette! shrinking andlaughing, and taking a step and retreating, and I falling head overears in love with her, deeper and deeper every second. I do believe, if the other one hadn't been there, I would have taken her right up inmy arms and carried her over. Well, Black-Eyes began to scold, and so, at last, she ventured across, and then she said she was tired andthirsty, and did wish she had a glass of milk; and so I asked her togo to the house, and rest a few minutes, and Aunt Jerusha would givethem some milk. You'd better believe aunt opened her eyes, when shesaw me marching in as bold as brass, with two stylish young ladies;while, the moment I met her sly look, all my customary confusion--overwhich I had contrived to hold a tight rein--ran rampant and jerked atmy self-possession until I lost control of it!

"These young ladies, Aunt Jerusha, " I stammered, "would like a glassof milk. They've got lost, and don't know where they are, and can'tfind their way back, and I expect I'll have to show them the way. "

"They're very welcome, " said aunt, who was kindness itself, and shewent into the milk-pantry and brought out two large goblets ofmorning's milk, with the rising cream sticking around the inside. 

I started forward gallantly, took the server from aunt's hand, andconveyed it, with almost the grace of a French waiter, across thelarge kitchen to where the two beautiful beings were resting in thechairs which I had set for them. Unfortunately, being blinded by mybashfulness, I caught my toe in a small hole in aunt's rag carpet, theresult being that I very abruptly deposited both glasses of milk, bottom up, in the lap of Blue-Eyes. A feeling of horror overpowered meas I saw that exquisite toilet in ruins--those dainty ruffles, thosecunning bows the color of her eyes, submerged in the lacteal fluid. 

I think a ghastly pallor must have overspread my face as I stoodmotionless, grasping the server in my clenched hands. 

What do you think Blue-Eyes said? _This_ is the way she "gave mefits. " Looking up prettily to my aunt, she says:

"Oh, madam, I am _so_ sorry for your carpet. "

"Your dress!" exclaimed Aunt Jerusha. 

"Never mind _that_, madam. It can go to the laundry. "

"Well, I never!" continued aunt, flying about for a towel, and wipingher off as well as she could; "but John Flutter is so careless. He's_always_ blundering. He means well enough, but he's bashful. You'dthink a clerk in a dry-goods store would get over it some time now, wouldn't you? Well, young ladies, I'll get some more milk for you; butI won't trust it in _his_ hands. "

When Aunt Jerusha let the cat out of the bag about my bashfulness, Blue-Eyes flashed, at me from under her long eyelashes a glance soroguish, so perfectly infatuating, that my heart behaved like athermometer that is plunged first into a tea-kettle and then intosnow; it went up into my throat, and then down into my boots. I stillgrasped the server and stood there like a revolving lantern--oneminute white, another red. Finally my heart settled into my boots. Itwas evident that fate was against me. I was _doomed_ to go on leadinga blundering existence. My admiration for this lovely girl was alreadya thousand times stronger than any feeling I had ever had for BelleMarigold. Yet how ridiculous I must appear to her. How politely shewas laughing at me. 

The sense of this, and the certainty that I was born to blunder, camehome to me with crushing weight. I turned slowly to Aunt Jerusha, whowas bringing fresh milk, and said, with a simplicity to which pathosmust have given dignity:

"Aunt, will you show them the way to Widow Cooper's? I am going to thebarn to hang myself, " and I walked out. 

"Is he in earnest?" I heard Blue-Eyes inquire. 

"Wall, now, I shouldn't be surprised, " avowed Aunt Jerusha. "He's beenpowerful low-spirited lately. You see, ladies, he was born thatbashful that life is a burden to him. "

I walked on in the direction of the barn; I would not pause to listenor to cast a backward glance. Doubtless, my relative told them of myprevious futile attempt to poison myself--perhaps became so interestedin relating anecdotes of her nephew's peculiar temperament, that sheforgot the present danger which threatened him. At least, it was sometime before she troubled herself to follow me to ascertain if mythreat meant anything serious. 

When she finally arrived at the large double door, standing wide openfor the entrance of the loaded wagons, she gave a sudden shriek. 

I was standing on the beam which supported the light flooring of thehay-loft; beneath was the threshing-floor; above me the great raftersof the barn, and around one of these I had fastened a rope, the otherterminus of which was knotted about my neck. 

I stood ready for the fatal leap. 

As she screamed, I slightly raised my hand:

"Silence, Aunt Jerusha, and receive my parting instructions. TellBlue-Eyes that I love her madly, but not to blame herself for myuntimely end. The ruin of her dress was only the last drop in thecup--the last straw on the camel's back. Farewell!" and as she threwup her arms and shrieked to me to desist, I rolled up my eyes--andsprang from the beam. 

For a moment I thought myself dead. The experience was different fromwhat I had anticipated. Instead of feeling choked, I had a pain in mylegs, and it seemed to me that I had been shut together like anopera-glass. Still I knew that I must be dead, and I kept very quietuntil the sound of little screams and gurgles of--what?--_laughter_, smote my ears!

Then I opened my eyes and looked about. I was not dangling in the airoverhead, but standing on the threshing-floor, with a bit of brokenhalter about my neck. The rope had played traitor and given waywithout even chafing my throat. 

[Illustration: "I STOOD READY FOR THE FATAL LEAP. "]

I dare say the sight of me, standing there with my eyes closed andlooking fully convinced that I was dead, must have been vastlyamusing to the two young ladies, who had followed Aunt Jerusha to thedoor. They laughed as if I had been the prince of clowns, and had justperformed a most funny trick in the ring. I began to feel as if I had, too. 

Aunt rushed forward and gave me a shake. 

"Another blunder, John, " she said; "it's plain as the nose on a man'sface that Providence never intended you to commit suicide. "

And then Blue-Eyes, repressing her mirth, came forward, half shy andhalf coaxing, and said to me:

"How my sister and I would feel if you had killed yourself on ouraccount! Come! do please show us the way to our boarding-house. Mammawill be so anxious about us. "

Cunning witch! she knows, how to twist a man around her little finger. 

"Come, " she continued, "let _me_ untie this ugly rope. "

And I did let her, and picked up my hat to walk with them to the WidowCooper's. 

They made themselves very agreeable on the way--so that I would thinkno more of hanging myself, I suppose. 

Only one more little incident occurred on the road. We met a tramp. Hewas a roughly-dressed fellow, with a straw hat such as farmers wear, whose broad brim nearly hid his face. He sauntered up impudently, and, before we could pass him, he chucked Blue-Eyes under the chin. Inless than half a second he was flying backward over the rail fence, although he was a tall fellow, more than my weight. 

"Now, " said I proudly to myself, "she will forget that unlucky circusperformance in the barn. "

Imagine my sensations when she turned on me with the fire flashing outof those soft blue eyes. 

"What did you fling my brother over the fence for?"

That was what she asked me. 

CHAPTER X. 

HE CATCHES A TROUT AND PRESENTS IT TO A LADY. 

"Some achieve greatness; some have greatness thrust upon them. " Ithink I have achieved greatness. Of one thing I am convinced: that itis only necessary to do some one thing _well_--as well or better thanany one else--in order to acquire distinction. The thing I do reallywell--better than any living human being--is to blunder. I defycompetition. There are champion tight-rope dancers, billiard players, opera singers, swindlers, base-ballists, candidates for thePresidency. I am the champion blunderer. You remember the man whoasked of another, "Who is that coarse, homely creature across theroom?" and received for answer, "That creature is my wife!" Well, I_ought_ to have been that man, although in that case I did not happento be. My compliments always turn out to be left-handed ones; all myremarks, all my efforts to please are but so many never-ending_faux-pas_. 

As a general seeks to retrieve one defeat by some act of unparalleledbravery, so had I sought to wipe out from the memory of the lovelypair whom I escorted, my shameful failure to hang myself, by gallantlypitching over the fence the fellow who had made himself too familiarwith the fairer of the two; and, as a _matter of course_, he turnedout to be her favorite brother. 

He was a good-natured fellow, after all--a perfect gentleman; and whenI stammered out my excuses, saying that I had mistaken him for atramp, he laughed and shook hands with me, explaining that he was inhis fishing costume, and saying very handsomely that were his dearsister ever in such danger of being insulted, he hoped some person asplucky as I would be on hand to defend her. This was applying coldcream to my smarting self-love. But it did not prevent me fromobserving the sly glances exchanged between the girls, nor prevent myhearing the little bursts of suppressed giggling which they pretendedwere caused by the funny motions of the hay-cutter in a neighboringfield. So, as their brother could show them the way to Widow Cooper's, I said good-morning rather abruptly. He called me back, however, andasked if I would not like to join him on a fishing tramp in themorning. I said "I would, and I knew all the best places. "

Then we shook hands again, while the young ladies smiled like angels;but I had not more than turned a bend in the road, which hid me fromview, than I heard such shrieks and screams of laughter as turned mytwo ears into boiled lobsters for the remainder of the day. 

But, spite of my burning ears, I could not get mad at those girls. They had a right to laugh at me, for I had, as usual, made myselfridiculous. I was head over ears in love with Blue-Eyes. The feeling Ihad once cherished toward Belle Marigold, compared with my suddenadoration of this glorious stranger, was as bean-soup to the condensedextract of beef, as water to wine, as milk to cream, as mush tomince-pie. 

I do not think I slept a wink that night. My room was suffocating, andI took a pillow, and crawled out on the roof of the kitchen, justunder my window, and stretched myself out on the shingles, and winkedback at the stars which winked at me, and thought of the bright, flashing eyes of the bewitching unknown. I resolved to seek heracquaintance, through her brother, and never, never to blunder again, but to be calm and cool like other young men--calm, cool, andpersistent. It might have been four o'clock in the morning that I cameto this determination, and so soothing was it, that I was able to takea brief nap after it. 

I was awakened by young Knickerbocker, the lady's brother, ticklingthe soles of my feet with a rake, and I started up with such violencefrom a sound sleep, that I slipped on the inclined plane, rolled downto the edge, and went over into a hogshead of rain-water justunderneath. 

"A capital way to take your morning bath, " smiled Knickerbocker. "Come, Mr. Flutter, get out of that, and find your rod and line, andcome along. I have a good breakfast in this basket, which we will eatin some dewy nook of the woods, while we are waiting for a nibble. Theearly bird catches the worm, you know. "

"I'll be with you in a moment, " I answered with a blank grin, determined to be cool and composed, though my sudden plunge hadsomewhat dazed me; and scrambling out of the primitive cistern, Iregained the roof by means of a ladder standing against a cherry-treenot far away. 

Consoling myself with the idea that this early adventure was an_accident_ and not a _blunder_, I hastily dressed, and rejoined my newfriend, with rod and line, and a box of flies. 

We had a delightful morning. Knickerbocker was affable. Alone in thesolitudes of nature with one of my own sex, I was tolerably at home, and flattered myself that I appeared to considerable advantage, especially as I really was a skillful angler, and landed two trout tomy friend's landing one. By ten o'clock we each had a lovely string ofthe speckled beauties, and decided to go home for the day, returningon the morrow. 

The path we took out of the woods came into the highway just in frontof the Widow Cooper's. I knew it, but I felt quite cool, anddetermined to make some excuse to catch another glimpse of mycompanion's sister. I had one splendid fish among my treasures, weighing over two pounds, while none of his weighed over a pound. Iwould present that trout to Flora Knickerbocker! I would ask her tohave the cook prepare it for her special delectation. 

We emerged upon the lawn and sauntered up to the front of the house, where some half-dozen ladies were sitting on the long porch, doingworsted-work and reading novels. I saw my charmer among them, and, asshe looked up from the book she was reading, and shot at me amischievous glance from those thrilling eyes, I felt my coolnessmelting at the most alarming rate. 

How I envied the easy, careless grace with which my friend saunteredup to the group! Why should I not be as graceful, as easy? I wouldmake a desperate effort to "assume a virtue if I had it not. " I, too, sauntered elegantly, lifted my hat killingly, and approached mycharmer just as if I didn't realize that I was turning all the colorsof the chameleon. 

"Miss Knickerbocker, " I began, "will you deign to accept the championtrout of the season?"

The string of glistening fish hung from the fine patent rod which Icarried over my shoulder. I never could undo the tangle of how it allcame about; but, in my embarrassment, I must have handled things notquite so gracefully as I intended--the line had become unwound, andthe hook dangling at the end of it as I attempted to lower the rodcaught in my coat collar behind, and the more I tugged the more itwould not come out. I flushed and jerked, and tried to see the back ofmy head, while the ladies smiled encouragingly, rendering me more andmore desperate, until I gave a fearful twitch, and the barb cameflying out and across the porch, striking a prim maiden lady on thehead. 

More and more confused, I gave a sudden pull to relieve the lady, andsucceeded in getting a very queer bite indeed. At first I thought, inmy horror, that I had drawn the whole top of the unfortunatespinster's head off; but a second frightened look showed me that itwas only her scalpette, or false front, or whatever the dear creaturescall a half-wig, all frizzes and crimps. Almost faint with dismay atthe glare of anger in the lady's eyes, and the view of the bald whitespot on top of her head, I hurriedly drew the thing toward me toremove it from the hook, when a confounded little Spitz, seeing thespot, and thinking, doubtless, I was playing with him, made a dash atthe wig, and in less time than it takes to tell it, that thing ofbeauty was a wreck forever. Its unfortunate owner, with a look whichnearly annihilated me, fled up-stairs to her apartment. 

Nor was my discomfiture then ended. That Spitz--that preciousSpitz--belonged to Blue-Eyes; I tried to coax him to relinquish hisgame; he would not be persuaded, and, in the ardor of his pursuit, heswallowed the cruel hook. I had wanted to present her with a trout, and had only succeeded in hooking her favorite pet--"her darling, herdear, dear little Spitzy-witzy, " as she called him, in tones ofmingled endearment and anguish, as she flew to rescue him from hiscruel fate. 

"Oh, what can I do?" she sobbed, looking up at her brother. 

"Cut him open and remove the hook, " he answered gravely; "there is noother possible way of relieving the poor fellow. "

"I wish _I_ had swallowed it, " I murmured, bitterly, throwing my fishinto the grass of the lawn, and pulling at my mustache desperately inmy despair of ever doing as other people do. 

"I really wish you had, " snapped Blue-Eyes, satirically, and with thatI walked off and left them to take Spitz from around that fish-hookthe best way they could. 

I don't imagine I left many female friends on that porch, nor did Isee any of the Widow Cooper's boarders again for a week, when we werebrought together, under rather peculiar circumstances at a circus. 

CHAPTER XI. 

HE GOES TO THE CIRCUS. 

In vain I struggled to regain the peace of mind I was beginning toenjoy before I met Flora Knickerbocker. I could not forget her; Idared not approach her--for I had heard a rumor that her dog had dieda _barb_-arous death, and his young mistress was inconsolable. I spentthe long, lazy summer days in dreaming of her, and wishing thatbashfulness were a curable disease. 

One morning, very early, when

 "The window slowly grew a glimmering square, "

I heard an unwonted commotion on our quiet road, and slipping out ofbed, I went to the window to see "what was up. " It was a circuscompany, with a menagerie attachment, winding through the dim dawn, elephant and all. 

For a moment my heart beat, as in its childish days, at sight of theunique cavalcade; but it soon grew sad, and ached worse than ever atthe reflection that Miss Flora was a city girl, and would despise acircus. However, some time during the day I heard from aunt that_all_ of Widow Cooper's boarders had made up their minds to attend, that evening, the performance, which was to take place in a small towntwo miles from us. These fine city folks doubtless thought it would bean innocent "lark" to go to the circus in this obscure countryvillage. 

I had outgrown my childish taste for the hyena, the gnu, and theanaconda; I was indifferent to the india-rubber man; nor did I caremuch for the beautiful bare-back rider who was to flash through thehoops like a meteor through the orbits of the planets; but I did longto steal one more look, unseen, unsuspected, at the sweet face whichwas lovelier to me, even in its anger, than any other. I had been themeans of Spitz's death--very well, I could hide myself in some obscurecorner of the amphitheater, and gaze at her mournfully from thedistance. While she gazed at the ring, I would gaze at _her_. 

So I went to the circus, along with a good many other people. _She_came early with the Cooper party, and seemed interested and amused bythe rough-board seats, and the novelty of the scene, and the audience. I had not yet chosen my perch on the boards, for I wanted to get asnear to her as I could without her observing me. 

The sight of her--resolved as I was to be cool, calm, andcollected--so affected my eyesight that I walked right into the ropestretched around the ring, and fell over into the tan-bark. 

All the boys hooted and laughed, and made personal remarks, wanting toknow if I were the clown, and similar questions, which I heard withsilent dignity. I hoped and prayed that _she_ had not recognized thetumbler who had begun the performances as an amateur, and without anysalary from Barnum. They were on the opposite side of the circle, andperhaps I escaped their remark. 

Contriving to mingle myself with some newcomers, I made my way morecautiously to within a few feet of my charmer. I did not intend sheshould see me, and was surprised when she whispered to her brother, upon which he immediately looked in my direction and beckoned me to aseat in their party. 

Oh, bliss! In another moment I was at her feet--sitting on the planknext lower than that which held her lovely form, with the daintybillows of lace and organdie rippling around me, and her little toespressed into the small of my back. Was this a common, vulgarcircus--with a menagerie attachment? To me it was the seventh heaven. The clown leaped lightly into the ring, cracked his whip, and beganhis witticisms. I heard him as one hears the murmur of the sea in hisdreams. The beautiful bare-back rider galloped, ran, jumped, smiled, kissed her hand, and trotted off the stage with Master Clown at herheels and the whole scene was to me only as a scene in a painting onwhich my eye casually fell. The only living, breathing fact of whichI was really conscious was that those blue eyes were shining likestars just over my head. 

In the pauses of the drama, the lemonade man went by. What was he tome, or I to him? Noisy boys or verdant farming youths might patronizehim at their will--I slaked my thirst with deep draughts of a nectarno lemonade-fellow could dispense at two cents a glass. While thecannon-ball man was catching a ten-pound ball between his teeth, andthe boneless boy was tying himself in a double bow-knot, I waspleasing myself with images of the darling little Spitz I would seek, purchase, and present to Miss Flora in place of the one who hadthoughtlessly swallowed my fish-hook. 

"Were you ever in love, young man?" suddenly asked the clown, afterthe india-rubber athlete had got tired of turning himself, like adozen flap-jacks on a hot griddle. 

The question startled me. I looked up. It seemed to me, as he eyed me, that he had addressed it particularly to me. I blushed. Some strangecountry girls on either side of me began to titter. I blushed moredecidedly. The motley chap in the ring must have seen it. He grinnedfrom ear to ear, walked up to the very edge of the rope, and repeated:

"Were you ever in love, young man?"

There were young men all round me; he might have looked atKnickerbocker, or any one of a dozen others; if I had not beensupersensitive I never should have imagined that he meant to bepersonal. 

If I had not retained the self-possession of an egotist, I should havereflected that it was not the thing to notice the vulgar wit of acircus-clown. Unfortunately self-possession is the last possession ofa bashful man. I half rose from my seat, demanding fiercely:

"Are you speaking to me, sir?"

"If the shoe fits, you can wear it, " was the grinning answer; and thenthere was a shout from the whole audience--hooting, laughter, clappingof hands--and I felt that I had made a Dundreary of myself. 

"We beg parding, " went on the rascal, stepping back and bowing. "Wehad no intentions of being personal--meant no young gentleman inpartikilar. We _always_ make a point of asking a few questions ingeneral. Here comes mademoiselle, the celebrated tight-rope dancer, "etc. , etc. , and the thousand eyes which had been glued to my scarletface were diverted to a new attraction. 

"I'll thrash that scoundrel within an inch of his life, " I said toyoung Knickerbocker, who was sitting behind me beside his sister. 

"You will have to whip the whole circus, then; these fellows all standby each other. Your policy is to let the matter drop. "

"I'll whip the whole circus, then, " I retorted, savagely. 

"Please don't, " said a soft voice, and I wilted under it. 

"It maddens me to be always made ridiculous before _you_, " Iwhispered. "I'm a dreadfully unfortunate man, Miss Knick----"

"_Fire_!"

A frightful cry in such a place as that! Something flashed upbrightly--I saw flames about something in the ring--the crowd arosefrom the benches--women screamed--men yelled. 

"Sit still, Flora!" I heard young Knickerbocker say, sternly. 

I thought of a million things in the thousandth part of a second--ofthe flaming canvas, the deadly crush, the wild beasts, terrified andbreaking from their cages. It was folly, it was madness, to linger amoment in hopes of the fire being subdued. I looked toward theentrance--it was not far from us; a few people were going quickly out. I was stronger than her brother; I could fight my way through anycrowd with that slight form held in one arm. 

"_Fire_!"

I dallied with fate no longer. Grasping Flora by her slender waist, Idragged her from her seat, and hurried her along through thethickening throng. When she could no longer keep her feet. I supportedher entirely, elbowing, pushing, struggling with the maddest of them. I reached the narrow exit--I fought my way through like a tiger. Bleeding, exhausted, my hat gone, my coat torn from my back, I at lastemerged under the calm moonlight with my darling held to my pantingheart. Bearing her apart from the jostling crowd, I looked backward, expecting to see the devouring flames stream high from the combustibleroof. As yet they had not broken through. I set my treasure gentlydown on her little feet. Her bonnet was gone, her wealth of goldenhair hung disheveled about her pale face. 

"Are we safe?" she murmured. 

"Yes, thank Heaven, your precious life is saved!"

"Oh! where is my brother?"

"Here!" said a cold voice behind us, and young Knickerbocker coollytook his sister on his own arm. "What in the name of folly did youdrag her off in that style for? A pretty-looking girl you are, Flora, I must say!"

"But the fire!" I gasped. 

"Was all out in less than a minute. A lamp exploded, but fortunatelyset fire to nothing else. I never saw anything more utterly ridiculousthan you dragging my sister off through that crowd, and me sittingstill and laughing at you. I don't know whether to look on you as ahero or a fool, Mr. Flutter. "

"Look on me as a blunderer, " I said meekly. 

But the revulsion of feeling was too great; I felt myself turning sickand faint, and when I knew anything again I was home in bed. And now Iowe Miss Flora a new bonnet as well as a little dog. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A LEAP FOR LIFE. 

It is impossible to make an ordinary person understand the chaos ofmingled feelings with which I heard, two days after the circusperformance in which I had so large a share, that Blue-Eyes andCompany had departed for a tour of the watering-places--feelings ofanguish and relief mixed in about equal proportions. I madly lovedher, but I had known from the first that my love was hopeless, and thethought of meeting her, after having made myself so ridiculous, wastorture. Therefore I felt relief that I was no longer in danger ofencountering the mocking laughter of those blue eyes, but I lost myappetite. I moped, pined, grew pale, freckled, and listless. 

"What's the use of wasting harvest apples making dumplings, when youdon't eat none, John?" asked my aunt, one day at dinner, after thehands had left the table. 

"Aunt, " replied I, solemnly, "don't mock me with apple dumplings; theymay be light, but my heart is heavy. "

"La, John, try a little east on your heart, " said she, laughing--by"east" she meant yeast, I suppose. 

"No, aunt, not 'east, ' but west. My mind is made up. I'm going out toColorado to fight the Indians. "

She let the two-tined steel fork drop out of her hand. 

"What will your ma say to that?" she gasped. 

"I tell you I am going, " was my firm reply, and I went. 

Yes, I had long sighed to be a Juan Fernandez, or a Mount Washingtonweatherologist, or something lonesome and sad, as my readers know. Fighting Indians would be a terrible risky business; but compared tofacing the "girls of the period" it would be the merest play. I wasweary of a life that was all mistakes. "Better throw it away, " Ithought, bitterly, "and give my scalp to dangle at a redskin's belt, than make another one of my characteristic and preposterous blunders. "

I had heard that Buffalo Bill was about to start for the RockyMountains, and I wrote to New York asking permission to join him. Heanswered that I could, if I was prepared to pay my own way. Iimmediately bade my relatives farewell, went home, borrowed twohundred dollars of father, told mother she was the only woman I wasn'tafraid of, kissed her good-bye, and met Buffalo Bill at the next largetown by appointment, he being already on his way West. I came home_after dark_, and left again _before daylight_, and that was the lastI saw of my native village for some time. 

"You don't let on yer much of a fighter?" asked the great scout, as hesaw me hunt all over six pockets and blush like a girl when theconductor came for our tickets, and finally hand him a postal-cardinstead of the bit of pasteboard he was impatiently waiting to punch. 

"Oh, I guess I'll fight like a rat when it comes to that, " I answered. "I'm brave as a lion--only I'm bashful. "

"Great tomahawks! is that yer disease?" groaned Bill. 

"Yes, that's my trouble, " I said, quite confidentially, for somehow Iseemed to get on with the brave hunter more easily than with thestarched minions of society. "I'm bashful, and I'm tired of civilizedlife. I'm always putting my foot in it when I'm trying the hardest tokeep it out. Besides, I'm in love, and the girl I want don't want me. It's either deliberate suicide or death on the plains with me. "

"Precisely. I understand. _I've been thar!_" said Buffalo Bill; and wegot along well together from the first. 

He encouraged the idea that in my present state of mind I would make amagnificent addition to his chosen band; but I have since had somereason to believe that he was leading me on for the sole purpose ofmaking a scarecrow of me--setting me up in some spot frequented bythe redskins, to become their target, while he and his comradesscooped down from some ambush and wiped out a score or two of themafter I had perished at my post. I _suspect_ this was his plan. Heprobably considered that so stupid a blunderer as I deserved no betterfate than to be used as a decoy. I think so myself. I have nothinglike the extravagant opinion of my own merits that I had when I firstlaunched out into the sea of human conflict. 

At all events, Buffalo Bill was very kind to me all the way out to theplains; he protected me as if I had been a timid young lady--tookcharge of my tickets, escorted me to and fro from the stationeating-houses, almost cut up my food and eating it for me; and if awoman did but glance in my direction, he scowled ferociously. Undersuch patronage I got through without any accident. 

It was the last day of our ride by rail. In the car which we helped tooccupy there was not a single female, and I was happy. A sense ofrepose--of safety--stole over me, which even the knowledge that on themorrow we were to take the war-path could not overcome. 

"Oh, " sighed I, "no women! This _is_ bliss!"

In about five minutes after I had made this remark the train drew upat one of those little stations that mark off the road, and the scoutgot off a minute to see a man. Fatal minute! In that brief sixtyseconds of time a female made her appearance in the car door, lookedall along the line, and, either because the seat beside me was theonly vacant one, or because she liked my looks, she came, and, withoutso much as "by your leave, " plumped down by me. 

"This seat is engaged, " I mildly remonstrated, growing as usual veryred. 

She looked around at me, saw me blush, and began to titter. 

"No, young man, " said she, "I ain't engaged, but I told ma I bet Iwould be before I got to Californy. "

By this time my protector had returned; but, seeing a woman, and ayoung woman at that, in his seat, he coolly ignored my imploring looksand passed out into the next car. 

"I'm going on the platform to smoke, " he whispered. 

"Be _you_ engaged?" continued my new companion. 

"No, miss, " I stammered. 

"Ain't that lucky?" she giggled. "Who knows but what we may make upour minds to hitch horses afore we get to Californy!" and she eyed meall over without a bit of bashfulness, and seemed to admire me. Mygoodness! this was worse than Alvira Slimmens!

"But I'm only going a few hours farther, and I'm not a marrying man, and I'm bound for the Indian country, " I murmured. 

She remained silent a few moments, and I stole a side-glance at her. She was a sharp-looking girl; her hair was cut short, and in themorocco belt about her waist I saw the glitter of a small revolver. Before I had finished these observations she turned suddenly towardme, and her black eyes rested fully on me as she asked:

"Stranger, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"No--no, indeed, miss; not for worlds!" I murmured, startled. 

"Well, I _do_, " said she; "and mebbe you will, yet. "

"I--I don't believe in anything of the kind, " I reiterated, getting asfar as possible into my corner of the seat. 

"La! you needn't be bashful, " she went on, laughing; "I ain't a-goingto scourge you. Thar's room enough for both of us. "

She subsided again, and again broke out:

"Bound for the Injun country, are you? So'm I. Whar do you get off?"

"I thought you said you were going to California?" I remarked, moreand more alarmed. 

Then that girl with the revolver winked at me slyly. 

"I _am_ going there--in the course of time; but I'm going by easystages. I ain't in no hurry. I told ma I'd be married by the time Igot there, and I mean to keep my word I may be six months going, yersee. "

Another silence, during which I mutely wondered how long it would takeBuffalo Bill to smoke his pipe. 

"Don't believe in love at first sight! Sho!" resumed my companion. "You ain't got much spunk, you ain't! Why, last week a girl and afellow got acquainted in this very car--this very seat, for all Iknow--and afore they reached Lone Tree Station they was _engaged_. There happened to be a clergyman going out to San Francisco on thetrain, and he married 'em afore sunset, he did. When I heerd of that, I said to myself, 'Sally Spitfire, why don't _you_ fix up and travel, too? Who knows what may happen?'"

Unmerciful fates! had I fled from civilization only to fall a prey toa female like this? It looked like it. There wasn't much fooling aboutthis damsel's love-making. Cold chills ran down my spine. My eyeavoided hers; I bit my nails and looked out of the window. 

"Ain't much of a talker, are ye?" she ran on. "That just suits me. Mytongue is long enough for both of us. I always told ma I wouldn'tmarry a great talker--there'd be one too many in the house. "

I groaned in anguish of spirit; I longed to see a thousand wild andpainted warriors swoop down upon the train. I thought of our peacefuldry-goods store at home, and I would gladly have sat down in anotherbutter-tub could I have been there. I even thought of earthquakeswith a sudden longing; but we were not near enough the Western shoreto hope for anything so good as an earthquake. 

"I do wonder if thar's a clergyman on _this_ train, " remarked theyoung lady, reflectively. 

"Supposing there is, " I burst out, in desperation, "does any one needhis services? Is anybody going to die?"

"Not as I know of, " was the meaning reply, while Miss Spitfire lookedat me firmly, placing her hand on her revolver as she spoke; "not ifpeople behave as they ought--like gentlemen--and don't go triflingwith an unprotected girl's affections in a railroad car. "

"Who--who--who's been doing so?" I stammered. 

"_You_ have, and I hold you accountable. You've got to marry me. I'vemade up my mind. And when Sally Spitfire makes up her mind, she meansit. To refuse my hand is to insult me, and no man shall insult me withsafety. No, sir! not so long as I carry a Colt's revolver. I took afancy to you, young man, the minute my eyes rested on you. I froze toyou to oncst. I calculate to marry you right off. Will you inquirearound for a clergyman? or shall I do it myself?"

"I will go, " I said, quickly. 

"P'raps I'd better go 'long, " she said, suspiciously, and as I aroseshe followed suit, and we walked down the car together, she twiceasking in a loud voice if there was a minister on board. 

"One in the next car, " at last spoke a fellow, looking at us with abroad grin. 

We stepped out on the platform to enter the next car--now was mytime--now or never! I looked at the ground--it was tolerably level andcovered with grass; the train was running at moderate speed; there wasbut one way to escape my tormentor. Making my calculations asaccurately as possible, I suddenly leaped from the steps of the car;my head and feet seemed driven into one another; I rolled over andover--thought I was dead, was surprised to find I was not dead, pickedmyself up, shook myself. 

"Ha! ha! ha!" I laughed hysterically; "I'm out of that scrape, anyway!"

"Oh, are you?" said a voice behind me. 

I whirled about. As true as I'm writing this, there stood that girl!Her hat was knocked off, her nose was bleeding, but she was smilingright in my face. 

I cast a look of anguish at the retreating train. No one had noticedour mad leap; and the cars were gliding smoothly away--away--leavingme alone on the wide plains with that determined female!

CHAPTER XIII. 

ONE OF THE FAIR SEX COMES TO HIS RESCUE. 

Before I comprehended that the indomitable female stood beside me, thetrain was puffing pitilessly away. 

"Oh, stop! stop! stop! stop!" I called and yelled in an agony ofapprehension; but I might as well have appealed to the wind that wentwhistling by. 

"Perhaps the locomotive will hear you, and down brakes of its ownaccord, " said Miss Spitfire, scornfully. "I told ma I was gwine to geta husband 'fore I got to Californy, an' I _have_ got one. You jest setdown on that bowlder, an' don't you try to make a move till the trainfrom 'Frisco comes along. Then you git aboard along with me, an' ifthere ain't no minister to be found in them cars, I'll haul you off atColumbus, where there's two to my certain knowledge. "

She had her revolver in her hand, directed _point blank_ at myquivering, quaking heart. Though I am bashful, I am no coward, and Ithought for full two minutes that I'd let her fire away, if such washer intention. 

"Better be dead than live in a land so full of women that I can neverhope for any comfort!" I thought, bitterly; and so confronted theenemy in the growing calmness of despair. 

"Ain't you a-going fur to set down on that bowlder?"

"No, madam, I am _not_! I would rather be shot than married, at anytime. Why! I was going to fight the Indians with Buffalo Bill, onpurpose to get rid of the girls. "

Sally looked at me curiously; her outstretched arm settled a littleuntil the revolver pointed at my knee instead of my heart. 

"P'raps you've been disappointed in love?" she queried. 

"Not that entirely, " I answered, honestly. 

"P'raps you've run away from a breach of promise?"

"Oh, no! no, indeed!"

"What on airth do you want to get rid o' the girls fur, then?"

"Miss Spitfire, " said I, scraping the gravel with the toe of my boot, "I'm afraid of them. I'm bashful. "

"BASHFUL!" Miss Spitfire cried, and then she began to laugh. 

She laughed and laughed until I believed and hoped she would laughherself into pieces. The idea struck this creature in so ludicrous alight that she nearly went into convulsions. _She_, alas, had neverbeen troubled by such a weakness. I watched my opportunity, when shewas doubled up with mirth, to snatch the revolver from her hand. 

The tables were now turned, but not for long. She sprang at me like awildcat; I defended myself as well as I could without really hurtingher, maintaining my hold on the revolver, but not attempting to use iton my scratching, clawing antagonist. The station-master came out ofLone Tree station, a mile away, and walked up the track to see whatwas going on. Of course he had no notion of what it was, but it amusedhim to see the fight, and he kept cheering and urging on Miss Sally, probably with the idea that she was my wife and we were indulging in adomestic squabble. At the same time it chanced that a boat load of sixor eight of the roughest fellows it had ever been my lot to meet, andall with their belts stuck full of knives and revolvers, came rowingacross the river, not far away, and landed just in time to "see thefun. " When Miss Spitfire saw these ruffians she ceased clawing andbiting me, and appealed to them. 

I was dumbfounded by the falsehood ready on her lips. 

"Will you, _gentlemen_, " said she, "stand by and see a young ladydeserted by this sneak?"

"What's up?" asked a brawny fellow, seven feet high, glaring at me asif he thought I had committed seventeen murders. 

"I'll tell you, " responded Spitfire, panting for breath. "We wasengaged to be married, we was, all fair an' square. He pretended tobe goin' through the train to look fur a minister fur to tie the knot, an' just sneaked off the train, when it stopped yere; but I see him intime, an' I jumped off, too, an' I nabbed him. "

"Shall we hang the little skunk up to yonder tree? or shall we set himup fur a target an' practice firing at a mark fur about five minutes?Will do whatever you say, young lady. We're a rough set; but we don'tlay out to see no wimmen treated scurvy. "

I'm no coward, as I said, but I dare say my face was not very smilingas I met the flashing eyes and saw the scowling brows of those giantruffians, whose hands were already drawing the bowie-knives andpistols from their belts. But I steadied my voice and spoke up:

"Boys, " said I, very friendly, "what's the use of a pair hitchingtogether who do not like each other, and who will always be uneasy inharness? If I married her, she would be sorry. Come, let us go up tothe station and have something to drink. Choose your own refreshments, and don't be backward. "

There was a good deal of growling and muttering; but the temptationwas irresistible. The result was that in half an hour not a drop ofliquor remained to the poor fellow who kept the station--that I paidup the score "like a man, " as my drunken companions assured me, whonow clapped me familiarly on the shoulder, and called me "LittleGrit, " as a pet name--that Miss Spitfire, minus her revolver, satbiting her nails about two rods away--and that she waited anxiouslyfor the expected arrival of the 'Frisco train, bound eastward. 

"Come, now, Little Grit, " said the leader of the band, when the whiskyhad all disappeared, "you was gwine with Buffalo Bill; better comealong with me--I'm a better fellow, an' hev killed more Injuns thanever Bill did. We're arter them pesky redskins now. A lot of 'emcrossed the stream a couple o' nights ago, and stole our best horses. We're bound to hev 'em back. Some o' them red thieves will miss theirskalps afore to-morrow night. A feller as kin fight a woman is jistthe chap for us. You come along; we'll show you how to tree your firstInjun. "

The long and the short of it was I had to go. I did not want to. Ithought of my mother, of Belle, of Blue-Eyes, and I hung back. But Iwas taken along. These giants, with their bristling belts, did notunderstand a person who said "no" to them. And as the secondary effectof the liquor was to make them quarrelsome, I had to pretend that Iliked the expedition. 

Not to weary the reader, we tracked the marauders, and came acrossthem at earliest dawn the following morning, cooking their dog-stewunder the shelter of a high bluff, with the stolen horses picketednear, in a cluster of young cottonwoods. 

I have no talent for depicting skirmishes with the redskins; I leaveall that to Buffalo Bill. I will here simply explain that the Indianswere surprised, but savage; that the whites were resolved to get backtheir horses, and that they did get them, and rode off victorious, leaving six dead and nine wounded red warriors on the battle-ground, with only one mishap to their own numbers. 

The mishap was a trifling one to the border ruffians. It was not sotrifling to me. 

It consisted of their leaving me a prisoner in the hands of theIndians. 

I was bound to a tree, while the wretches jabbered around me, as towhat they should do for me. Then, while I was reflecting whether Iwould not prefer marriage with Miss Spitfire to this horriblepredicament, they drove a stake into the ground, untied me, led me tothe stake, re-tied me to that, and piled branches of dry cottonwoodabout me up to my neck. 

Then one of them ran, howling, to bring a brand from the fire underthe upset breakfast pot. 

I raised my eyes to the bright sun, which had risen over the plain, and was smiling at my despair. The hideous wretch came running withthe fire-brand. The braves leaped, danced, and whooped. 

I closed my eyes. Then a sharp, shrill yell pierced the air, and inanother moment something touched my neck. It was not the scorchingflames I dreaded. I opened my eyes. A hideous face, copper-colored, distorted by a loving grin, was close to mine; a pair of arms wereabout my neck--a pair of woman's arms! They were those of a ferociousand ugly squaw, old enough to be my mother. The warrior with thefire-brand was replacing it, with a disappointed expression, under thestewed dog. _I was saved!_

All in a flash I comprehended the truth. Here was I, John Flutter, enacting the historical part of the John Smith, of Virginia, who wasrescued by the lovely Pocahontas. 

This hideous creature smirking in my face was my Pocahontas. It wasnot leap-year, but she had chosen me for her brave. The charms ofcivilized life could no longer trouble me. She would lovingly paint myface, hang the wampum about my waist, and lead me to her wigwam in thewilderness, where she would faithfully grind my corn and fricassee mypuppy. It was for _this_ I had escaped Sally Spitfire--for _this_ thatmy unhappy bashfulness had driven me far from home and friends. 

She unfastened the rope from the stake, and led me proudly away. Myvery soul blushed with shame. Oh, fatal, fatal blunder!

CHAPTER XIV. 

HIS DIFFIDENCE BRINGS ABOUT AN ACCIDENT. 

That was a long day for me. I could not eat the dog-bone which myPocahontas handed me, having drawn it from the kettle with her ownsweet fingers. We traveled all day; having lost their stolen horses aswell as their own ponies, the savages had to foot it back to theirtribe. I could see that they got as far away from the railroad andfrom traces of white men as possible. 

It began to grow dark, and we were still plodding along. I wasfoot-sore, discouraged, and woe-begone. All the former trials of mylife, which had seemed at the time so hard to bear, now appeared likethe merest trifles. 

Ah, if I were only home again! How gladly would I sit down inbutter-tubs, and spill hot tea into my lap! How joyfully would I walkup the church aisles, with my ears burning, and sit down on my newbeaver in father's pew of a Sunday. How sweet would be the suppressedgiggle of the saucy girls behind me! How easily, how almostaudaciously, would I ask Miss Miller if I might see her home! What anactive part I would take in debating societies! Vain dream! Myhideous Pocahontas marched stolidly on, dragging me like a frightenedcalf, at the rope's end. My throat was dry as ashes. I guess theredskins suffered for want of water, too. We came to a little brackishstream after sunset, and here they camped. They had taken from me MissSpitfire's revolver, or I should have shot myself. 

The squaws made some suppawn in a big kettle, and my squaw brought mesome in a dirty wooden bowl. I was too homesick to eat, and thistroubled her. She tried to coax me, with atrocious grins and nods, toeat the smoking suppawn. I couldn't, and she looked unhappy. 

Then something happened--something hit the bowl and sent the hot mushflying into my beauty's face, and spattering over me. At the sameinstant about twenty Indians were hit, also, and went tumbling over, with their mouths full of supper. There were yells, and jumps, and ageneral row. I jerked away from Pocahontas and ran as fast as my tiredlegs would carry me. I went toward the attacking party. It might be ofIndians too, but I didn't care. I was afraid of Pocahontas--moreafraid of her than of any braves in the world. But these invadersproved to be white men; a large party of miners going toward Pike'sPeak, by wagon instead of by the new railroad. 

I threw myself on their protection. They had routed out the savages, and now took possession of their camping-ground. I passed a peacefulnight; except that my dreams were disturbed by visions of Pocahontas. In the morning my new friends proposed that I should join their party, and try my luck in the mining regions; they were positive that eachwould find more gold than he knew what to do with. 

"Then you can go home and marry some pretty girl, my boy, " said onefriendly fellow, slapping me on the shoulder. 

"Never, " I murmured. "I have no object in life, save one. "

"And what is that, my young friend?"

"To go where there never has been nor never will be a woman. "

"Good! the mines will be just the place then. None of the fair sexthere, my boy. You can enjoy the privilege of doing up your own linento the fullest extent. You won't have anybody to iron your collarsthere, you bet. "

"Lead on--I follow!" I cried, almost like an actor on the stage. 

I felt exhilarated--a wild, joyous sense of freedom. My two recentnarrow escapes added to the pleasure with which I viewed my presentprospects. This was better than sailing for some Juan Fernandez, orbeing clerk of the weather on Mount Washington. Ho! for Pike's Peak. In those high solitudes, while heaping up the yellow gold which shouldpurchase all the luxuries of life for the woman whom _sometime_ Ishould choose, I could, at the same time, be gradually overcoming myone weakness. When I did see fit to return to my native village, noman should be so calm, so cool, so self-possessed as John Flutter, Jr. , mine-owner, late of the Rocky Mountains. I felt very bold overthe prospect. I was not a bit bashful just then. I joined theadventurers, paying them in money for my seat in their wagons, and myplace at their camp-table. In due time we reached the scene of action. I would not go into any of the canvas villages which had sprung uplike mushrooms. There might be a woman in some one of these places. Iwent directly into the hills, where I bought out a sick man's claim, and went to work. I blistered my white hands, but I didn't mind thatmuch--there were no blue eyes to notice the disfigurement. 

I had been at work six days. I was a good young man, and I would notdig on Sunday, as some of the fellows did. I sat in the door of mylittle hut, and read an old newspaper, and thought of those far-awaydays when I used to be afraid of the girls. How glad I felt that I wasoutgrowing that folly. A shadow fell across my paper, and I glancedup. Thunder out of a clear sky could not so have astonished me. Therestood a young lady, smiling at me! None of those rough Western pioneergirls, either, but a pale, delicate, beautiful young lady, abouteighteen, with cheeks like wild roses, so faintly, softly flushedwith the fatigue of climbing, and great starry hazel eyes, and dressedin a fashionable traveling suit, made up in the latest style. 

"Pardon me, sir, for startling you so, " she said, pleasantly. "Can yougive me a drink of water? I have been climbing until I am thirsty. Papa is not far behind, around the rock there. I out-climbed him, yousee--as I told him I could!" and she laughed like an angel. 

Yes! it was splendid to find how I had improved! I jumped to my feetand made a low bow. I wasn't red in the face--I wasn't confused--Ididn't stammer; I felt as cool as I do this moment, as I answered hercourteously:

"Cer-cer-certainly, madam--miss, I mean--you shall have a spring freshfrom me--a drink, I mean--we've a nice, cold spring in the rocks justbehind the cabin; I'll get you one in a second. "

"No such _great_ hurry, sir"--another smile. 

I dashed inside and brought a tin cup--my only goblet--hurried to thespring, and brought her the sparkling draught, saying, as I handed itto her:

"You must excuse the din tipper, miss. "

She took it politely! and began to quaff, but from some reason shechoked and choked, and finally shook so, that she spilled the waterall over the front breadth of her gray-check silk. She was laughing atmy "din tipper, " just as if the calmest people did not sometimes getthe first letters of their words mixed up. 

While she giggled and pretended to cough the old gentleman came insight, puffing and blowing like a porpoise, and looking very warm. Hetold me he was "doing the mountains" for his daughter's health, andthat they were going on to California to spend the winter; ending bystating that he was thirsty too, and so fatigued with his climb thathe would be obliged to me if I would add a stick in his, if I had it. Now I kept a little whisky for medicine, and I was only too anxious tooblige the girl's father, so I darted into the cabin again and broughtout one of the two bottles which I owned--two bottles, just alike, onecontaining whisky, the other kerosene. In my confusion I--well, I wasvery hospitable, and I added as much kerosene as there was water; andwhen he had taken three large swallows, he began to spit and splutter;then to groan; then to double up on the hard rock in awfulconvulsions. I smelled the kerosene, and I felt that I had murderedhim. It had come to this at last! My bashfulness was to do worse thanurge me to suicide--it was to be the means of my causing the death ofan estimable old gentleman--her father! She began to cry and wring herhands. As yet she did not suspect me! She supposed her father hadfallen in a fit of apoplexy. 

"If he dies, I will allow her always to think so, " I resolved. 

My eyes stuck out of my head with terror at what I had done. I wasrooted to the ground. But only for a moment. Remorse, for once, mademe self-possessed. I remembered that I had salt in the cabin. I gotsome, mixed it with water, and poured it down his throat. It had thedesired effect, soon relieving him of the poisonous dose he hadswallowed. 

"Ah! you have saved my papa's life!" cried the young lady, pressing mytrembling hand. 

"Saved it!" growled old Cresus, as he sat up and glared about. "Lethim alone, Imogen! He tried to poison and murder me, so as to rob meafter I was dead, and keep you prisoner, my pet. The scoundrel!"

"It was all a mistake--a wretched mistake!" I murmured. 

He wouldn't believe me; but he was too ill to get up, as he wanted. Itried to make him more comfortable by assisting him to a seat on mykeg of blasting powder. 

As he began to revive a little, he drew a cigar from his pocket, andasked me if I had a match. I had none; but there was a small fireunder my frying-pan, and I brought him a coal on a chip. Miss Imogen, when she saw the coal on the chip, began to laugh again. Thatembarrassed me. My nerves were already unstrung, and my tremblingfingers unfortunately spilled the burning ember just as the oldgentleman was about to stoop over it with his cigar. It fell betweenhis knees, onto the head of the keg, rolled over, and dropped plumbthrough the bung-hole onto the giant-powder inside. 

This cured me of my bashfulness for some time, as it was over a weekbefore I came to my senses. 

CHAPTER XV. 

HE BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH A CHICAGO WIDOW. 

I came to my senses in one of the bedrooms of the Shantytown Hotel. There was only a partition between that and the other bedrooms ofbrown cotton cloth, and as I slowly became conscious of things aboutme, I heard two voices beyond the next curtain talking of my affairs. 

"I reckon he won't know where the time's gone to when he comes tohimself ag'in. Lucky for him he didn't go up, like the old gentleman, in such small pieces as to never come down. I don't see, fur the lifeof me, what purvented. He was standin' right over the kag on which theold chap sot. Marakalous escape, that of the young lady. Beatseverything. "

"You bet, pardner, 'twouldn't happen so once in a thousand times. Yousee, she was jist blowed over the ledge an' rolled down twenty orthirty feet, an' brought up on a soft spot--wa'n't hurt a particle. But how she does take on about her pop! S'pose you knew her brother'scome on fur her?"

"No. "

"Yes; got here by the noon stage. They're reckoning to leaveShantytown immegitly. Less go down and see 'em off!"

They shuffled away. 

I don't know whether my head ached, but I know my heart did. I was amurderer. Or, if not quite so bad as a deliberate murderer, I was, atthe very least, guilty of manslaughter. And why? Because I had notbeen able to overcome my wicked weakness. I felt sick of life, ofeverything--especially of the mines. 

"I can never return to the scene of the accident, " I thought. 

I groaned and tossed, but it was the torture of my conscience, and notof my aching limbs. The doctor and others came in. 

"How long shall I have to lie here?" I asked. 

"Not many days; no bones are broken. Your head is injured and you arebadly bruised, that's all. You must keep quiet--you must not exciteyourself. "

Excite myself! As if I could, for one moment, forget the respectableold capitalist whom I had first poisoned and then blown into tenthousand pieces through my folly. I had brain fever. It set in thatnight. For two weeks I raved deliriously; for two weeks I was doingthe things I ought not to have done--in imagination. I took a younglady skating, and slipped down with her on the ice, and broke herGrecian nose. I went to a grand reception, and tore the point laceflounce off of Mrs. Grant's train, put my handkerchief in my saucer, and my coffee-cup in my pocket. I was left to entertain a handsomeyoung lady, and all I could say was to cough and "Hem! hem!" until atlast she asked me if I had any particular article I would like hemmed. 

I killed a baby by sitting down on it in a fit of embarrassment, whenasked by a neighbor to take a seat. I waltzed and waltzed and waltzedwith Blue-Eyes, and every time I turned I stepped on her toes with myheavy boots, until they must have been jelly in her little satinslippers, and finally we fell down-stairs, and I went out of thatfevered dream only to find myself again giving blazing kerosene to anestimable old gentleman, who swallowed it unsuspiciously, and then satdown on a powder keg, and we all blew up--up--up--and camedown--down--bump! I never want to have brain fever again--at least, not until I have conquered myself. 

When I was once more rational, I resolved that a miner's life was toorough for me; and, as soon as I could be bolstered up in a corner ofthe coach, I set out to reach the railroad, where I was to take apalace-car for home. I gained strength rapidly during the change andexcitement of the journey; so that, the day before we were to reachChicago, I no longer remained prone in my berth, but, "clothed and inmy right mind, " took my seat with the other passengers, looked aboutand tried to forget the past and to enjoy myself. At first, I had aseat to myself; but, at one of the stations, about two in theafternoon, a lady, dressed in deep black, and wearing a heavy crepeveil, which concealed her face, entered our car, and slipped quietlyin to the vacant half of my seat. She sat quite motionless, with herveil down. Every few moments a long, tremulous, heart-broken sighstirred this sable curtain which shut in my companion's face. I felt adeep sympathy for her, whoever she might be, old or young, pretty orugly. I inferred that she was a widow; I could hear that she was inaffliction; but I was far too diffident to invent any little courteousway of expressing my sympathy. In about half an hour, she put her veilto one side, and asked me, in a low, sweet, pathetic voice, if I hadany objection to drawing down the blind, as her veil smothered her, and she had wept so much that her eyes could not bear the strong lightof the afternoon sun. I drew down the blind--with such haste as topinch my fingers cruelly between the sash and the sill. 

"Oh, I am _so_ sorry!" said she. 

"It's of no consequence, " I stammered, making a Toots of myself. 

"Oh, but _it is_! and in my service too! Let me be your surgeon, sir, "and she took from her traveling-bag a small bottle of cologne, withwhich she drenched a delicate film of black-bordered handkerchief, and then wound the same around my aching fingers. "You are pale, " shecontinued, slightly pressing my hand before releasing it--"ah, howsorry I am!"

"I am pale because I have been ill recently, " I responded, consciousthat all my becoming pallor was changing to turkey-red. 

"Ill?--oh, how sad! What a world of trouble we live in! Ill?--and soyoung--so hand----. Excuse me, I meant not to flatter you, but I haveseen so much sorrow myself. I am only twenty-two, and I've been awid--wid--wid--ow over a year. "

She wiped away a tear with handkerchief No. 2, and smiled sadly in myface. 

"Sorrow has aged her, " I thought, for, although the blind was down, she looked to me nearer thirty than twenty-two. 

Still, she was pretty, with dark eyes that looked into yours in awonderfully confiding way--melting, liquid, deep eyes, that even a manwho is perfectly self-possessed can not see to the bottom of soonenough for his own good. As for me, those eyes confused while theypleased me. The widow never noticed my embarrassment; but, the iceonce broken, talked on and on. She gave me, in soft, sweet, brokenaccents, her history--how she had been her mother's only pet, and hadmarried a rich Chicago broker, who had died in less than two years, leaving her alone--all alone--with plenty of money, plenty ofjewelry, a fine house, but alas, "no one to love her, none to caress, "as the song says, and the world a desert. 

"But I can still love _a friend_, " she added, with a melancholy smile. "One as disinterested, as ignorant of the world as you, would pleaseme best. You must stop in Chicago, " she said, giving me her cardbefore we parted. "Every traveler should spend a few days in ourwonderful city. Call on me, and I will have up my carriage and takeyou out to see the sights. "

Need I say that I stopped in Chicago? or add that I went to call onthe fair widow? She took me out driving according to promise. I foundthat she was just the style of woman that suited me best. I wasbashful; she was not. I was silent; she could keep up the conversationwith very little aid from me. With such a woman as that I could getalong in life. She would always be willing to take the lead. All Iwould have to do would be to give her the reins, and she would keepthe team going. She would be willing to walk the first into church--tointerview the butcher and baker--to stand between me and the world. Awife like that would be some comfort to a bashful man. Besides, shewas rich! Had she not said it? I have seldom had a happier hour thanthat of our swift, exhilarating drive. The colored driver, gorgeous inhis handsome livery, kept his eyes and ears to himself. I lolled backin the luxurious carriage beside my charmer. I forgot the unhappyaccident of the blasting-powder--all the mortifications anddisappointments of my life. I reveled in bliss. For once, I hadnothing to do but be courted. How often had I envied the girls theirprivilege of keeping quiet and being made love to. How often had Isighed to be one of the sex who is popped to and does not have to pop. And now, this lovely, brilliant creature who sat beside me, havingbeen once married, and seeing my natural timidity, "knew how it washerself, " and took on her own fair hands all the responsibility. 

"Mr. Flutter, " said she, "I know just how you feel--you want to ask meto marry you, but you are too bashful. Have I guessed right?"

I pressed her hand in speechless assent. 

"Yes, my dear boy, I knew it. Well, this is leap-year, and I will notsee you sacrificed to your own timidity. I am yours, whenever youwish--to-morrow if you say so--yours forever. You shall have notrouble about it, I will speak to the Rev. Mr. Coalyard myself--I knowhim. When shall it be?--speak, dearest!"

I gasped out "to-morrow, " and buried my blushing face on her shoulder. 

For a moment her soft arms were twined around me--a moment only, forwe were on the open lake drive. Not more than ten seconds did thepretty widow embrace me, but that was time enough, as I learned to mysorrow, for her to extract my pocket-book, containing the five hundreddollars I still had remaining from the sale of my mining-stock, andnot one dollar of which did I ever see again. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

AT LAST HE SECURES A TREASURE. 

I had to pawn my watch to get away from Chicago, for the police failedto find my pretty widow. The thought of getting again under my mother'swing was as welcome as my desire to get away from it had been eager. Atnight my dreams were haunted by all sorts of horrible fire-works, whereold gentlemen sat down on powder-kegs, etc. Oh, for home! I knew therewere no widows in my native village, except Widow Green, and I was notafraid of her. Well, I took the cars once more, and I had been ridingtwo days and a night, and was not over forty miles from my destination, when the little incident occurred which proved to lead me into one ofthe worst blunders of all. It's _awful_ to be a bashful young man!Everybody takes advantage of you. You are the victim of practicaljokes--folks laugh if you do nothing on earth but enter a room. If youhappen to hit your foot against a stool, or trip over a rug, or call alady "sir, " the girls giggle and the boys nudge each other, as if itwere extremely amusing. But to blow up a confiding Wall streetspeculator, and to be swindled out of all your money by a pretty widow, is enough to make a sensitive man a raving lunatic. I had all this tothink of as I was whirled along toward home. So absorbed was I inmelancholy reflection, that I did not notice what was going on until asudden shrill squawk close in my ear caused me to turn, when I foundthat a very common-looking young woman, with a by no means interestinginfant of six months, had taken the vacant half of my seat. I wasannoyed. There were plenty of unoccupied seats in the car, and I saw noreason why she should intrude upon my comfort. The infant shriekedwildly when I looked at it; but its mother stopped its mouth with one ofthose what-do-you-call-'ems that are stuck on the end of a flat bottlecontaining sweetened milk, and, after sputtering and gurgling in a vainattempt to keep on squalling, it subsided and went vigorously to work. It seemed after a time to become more accustomed to my harmless visage, and stared at me stolidly, with round, unwinking eyes, after it hadexhausted the contents of the bottle. 

In about half an hour the train stopped at a certain station; theconductor yelled out "ten minutes for refreshments, " the eating-houseman rang a big bell, and the passengers, many of them, hurried out. Then the freckle-faced woman leaned toward me. 

"Are you goin' out?" said she. 

"No, " I replied, politely; "I am not far from home, and prefer waitingfor my lunch until I get there. "

[Illustration: "WOULD YOU HOLD MY BABY WHILE I RUN IN AN' GET A CUP O'TEA?"]

"Then, " said she, very earnestly, "would you hold my baby while I runin an' get a cup o' tea? Indeed, sir, I'm half famished, riding overtwenty-four hours, and only a biscuit or two in my bag, and I must getsome milk for baby's bottle or she'll starve. "

It was impossible, under such circumstances, for one to refuse, thoughI would have preferred to head a regiment going into battle, forthere were three young ladies, about six seats behind me, who wereeating their lunch in the car, and I knew they would laugh at me;besides, the woman gave me no chance to decline, for she thrust thewide-eyed terror into my awkward arms, and rushed quickly out toobtain her cup of tea. 

Did you ever see a bashful young man hold a strange baby? I expect Ifurnished--I and the baby--a comic opera, music and all, for theentertainment of the three girls, as they nibbled their cold chickenand pound-cake. For the mother had not been gone over fifteen secondswhen that confounded young one began to cry. I sat her down on my kneeand trotted her. She screamed with indignation, and grew so purple inthe face I thought she was strangling, and I patted her on the back. This liberty she resented by going into a sort of spasm, legs and armsflying in every direction, worse than a wind-mill in a gale. 

"This will never do, " I thought; at the same time I was positive Iheard a suppressed giggle in my rear. 

A happy thought occurred to me--infants were always tickled withwatches! But, alas I had pawned mine. However, I had a gold locket inmy pocket, with my picture in it, which I had bought in Chicago, topresent to the widow, and didn't present: this I drew forth anddangled before the eyes of the little infernal threshing-machine. 

The legs and arms quieted down; the fat hands grabbed the glitteringtrinket. "Goo--goo--goo--goo, " said the baby, and thrust the locket inher mouth. I think she must have been going through the interestingprocess of teething, for she made so many dents in the handsome face, that it was rendered useless as a future gift to some fortunate girl, while the way she slobbered over it was disgusting. I scarcely regrettedthe ruin of the locket, I was so delighted to have her keep quiet; but, alas! the little wretch soon dropped it and began howling like tenthousand midnight cats. I trotted her again--I tossed her--I laid herover my knees on her stomach--I said "Ssh--ssh--ssssh--sssssh!" all invain. Instead of ten minutes for refreshments it seemed to me that theygave ten hours. 

In desperation I raised her and hung her over my shoulder, rising atthe same time and walking up and down the aisle. The howling ceased:but now the young ladies, after choking with suppressed laughter, finally broke into a scream of delight. Something must be up! I tookthe baby down and looked over my shoulder--the little rip had openedher mouth and sent a stream of white, curdy milk down the back of mynew overcoat. For one instant the fate of that child hung in thebalance. I walked to the door, and made a movement to throw her tothe dogs; but humanity gained the day, and I refrained. 

I felt that my face was redder than the baby's; every passengerremaining in the car was smiling. I went calmly back, and laid herdown on the seat, while I took off my coat and made an attempt toremove the odious matters with my handkerchief, which ended by mythrowing the coat over the back of the seat in disgust, resolving thatmother would have to finish the job with her "Renovator. " Myhandkerchief I threw out of the window. 

Thank goodness! the engine bell was ringing at last and the peoplecrowding back into the train. 

I drew a long breath of relief, snatched the shrieking infant upagain, for fear the mother would blame me for neglecting her uglybrat--and waited. 

"All aboard!" shouted the conductor; the bell ceased to ring, thewheels began to revolve, the train was in motion. 

"Great Jupiter Ammen!" I thought, while a cold sweat started out allover me, "she will be left!"

The cars moved faster and more mercilessly fast; the conductorappeared at the door; I rose and rushed toward him, the baby in myarms, crying:

"For Heaven's sake, conductor, stop the cars!"

"What's up?" he asked. 

"What's up? Stop the cars, I say! Back down to the station again!_This baby's mother's left!_"

"Then she left on purpose, " he answered coolly; "she never went intothe eating-house at all. I saw her making tall tracks for the trainthat goes the other way. I thought it was all right. I didn't noticeshe hadn't her baby with her. I'll telegraph at the next station;that's all that can be done now. "

This capped the climax of all my previous blunders! Why had I blindlyconsented to care for that woman's progeny? Why? why? Here was I, JohnFlutter, a young, innocent, unmarried man, approaching the home of mychildhood with an infant in my arms! The horror of my situation turnedme red and pale by turns as if I had apoplexy or heart disease. 

There was always a crowd of young people down at the depot of ourvillage; what would they think to see me emerge from the cars carryingthat baby? Even the child seemed astonished, ceasing to cry, andstaring around upon the passengers as if in wonder and amazement atour predicament. Yet not one of those heartless travelers seemed topity me; every mouth was stretched in a broad grin; not a woman cameforward and offered to relieve me of my burden; and thus, in the midstof my embarrassment and horror, the train rolled up to the well-knownstation, and I saw my father and mother, and half the boys and girlsof the village, crowding the platform and waiting to welcome myarrival. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

HE ENJOYS HIMSELF AT A BALL. 

Once more I was settled quietly down to my old life, clerking in myfather's store. You would naturally suppose that my travels would havegiven me some confidence, and that I had worn out, as it were, thebashfulness of youth; but in my case this was an inborn quality whichI could no more get rid of, than I could of my liver or my spleen. 

I had never confessed to any one the episode of the giant-powder orthe Chicago widow; but the story of the baby had crept out, throughthe conductor, who told it to the station-master. If you want to knowhow _that_ ended, I'll just tell you that, maddened by the grins andgiggles of the passengers, I started for the car door with that baby, but, in passing those three giggling young ladies, I suddenly slungthe infant into their collective laps, and darted out upon the stationplatform. That's the way I got out of that scrape. 

As I was saying, after all those dreadful experiences, I was glad tosettle down in the store, where I honestly strove to overcome myweakness; but it was still so troublesome that father alwaysinterfered when the girls came in to purchase dry-goods. He said Ialmost destroyed the profits of the business, giving extra measure onribbons and silks, and getting confused over the calicoes. But I'mcertain the shoe was on the other foot; there wasn't a girl in townwould go anywhere else to shop when they could enjoy the fun ofteasing me; so that if I made a few blunders, I also brought custom. 

Cold weather came again, and I was one year older. There was a grandball on the twenty-second of February, to which I invited HettySlocum, who accepted my escort. We expected to have lots of fun. Theball-room was in the third story of the Spread-Eagle Hotel. There wasto be a splendid supper at midnight in the big dining-room; hotoysters "in every style, " roast turkey, chicken-pie, coffee, and allthe sweet fixings. 

It turned out to be a clear night; I took Hetty to the hotel infather's fancy sleigh, in good style, and having got her safely to thedoor of the ladies' parlor without a blunder to mar my peace of mind, except that I stepped on her slippered foot in getting into thesleigh, and crushed it so, that Hetty could hardly dance for the pain, I began to feel an unusual degree of confidence in myself, which Ifortified by a stern resolution, on no account to get to blushing andstammering, but to walk coolly up to the handsomest girls and ask themout on the floor with all the self-possessed gallantry of a man ofthe world. 

Alas! "the best-laid plans of mice an' men must aft gang, " like abalky horse--just opposite to what you want them to. I spoke to myacquaintances in the bar-room easily enough, but when one after onethe fellows went up to the door of the ladies' dressing-room to escorttheir fair companions to the ball-room, I felt my courage oozing away, until, under the pretext of keeping warm by the fire, I remained inthe bar-room until every one else had deserted it. Then I slowly mademy way up, intending to enter the gentlemen's dressing-room, to tie mywhite cravat, and put on my white kids. I found the roomdeserted--every one had entered the ball-room but myself; I could hearthe gay music of the violins, and the tapping of the feet on the flooroverhead. Surely it was time that I had called for _my_ lady, andtaken her up. 

I knew that Hetty would be mad, because I had made her lose the firstdance; yet, I fooled and fooled over the tying of my cravat, dreadingthe ordeal of entering the ball-room with a lady on my arm. At last itwas tied. I turned to put on my gloves; then, for the first time, Iwas made aware that I had mistaken the room. I was in the ladies', notthe gentlemen's dressing-room. There were the heaps of folded cloaks, and shawls, and the hoods. That very instant, before I could beat aretreat, I heard voices at the door--Hetty's among them. I glaredaround for some means of escape. There were none. What excuse could Imake for my singular intrusion? Would it be believed if I swore that Ihad been unaware of the character of my surroundings? Would I besuspected of being a kleptomaniac? In the intensity of mymortification I madly followed the first impulse which moved me. Thiswas to dive under the bed. 

I had no more than taken refuge in this curious hiding-place, than Iregretted the foolish act; to be discovered there would be infamy anddisgrace too deep for words. I would have crawled out at the lastsecond, but it was too late; I heard the girls in the room, and wasforced to try and keep still as a mouse, though my heart thumped so Iwas certain they must hear it. 

"Where do you suppose he has gone?" asked one. 

"Goodness knows, " answered Hetty. "I have looked in the gentlemen'sroom--he's not there. Catch me going to a ball with John Flutteragain. "

"It's a real insult, his not coming for you, " added another; "but, la!you must excuse it. I know what's the trouble. I'll bet you two centshe's afraid to come up-stairs. He! he! he!"

Then all of them tittered "he! he! he" and "ha! ha! ha!"

"Did you ever see such a bashful young fellow?"

"He's a perfect goose!"

"Isn't it fun alive to tease him?"

"Do you remember when he tumbled in the lake?"

"Oh! and the time he sat down in the butter-tub?"

"Yes; and that day he came to our house and sat down in Old MotherSmith's cap instead of a vacant chair, because he was blushing so itmade him blind. "

"Well, if he hadn't crushed my foot getting into the sleigh, Iwouldn't care, " added Hetty, spitefully. "I shall limp all theevening. "

"I do despise a blundering, stupid fellow that can't half take care ofa girl. "

"Yes; but what would you do without Mr. Flutter to laugh at?"

"That's so. As long as he stays around we will have somebody to amuseus. "

"He'd be good-looking if he wasn't always so red in the face. "

"If I was in his place I'd never go out without a veil. "

"To hide his blushes?"

"Of course. What a pity he forgot to take his hat off in church lastSunday, until his mother nudged him. "

"Yes. Did you hear it smash when he put his foot in it when he got upto go?"

Heavens and earth! There I was, under the bed, an enforced listener tothis flattering conversation. My breast nearly burst with anger atthem, at myself, at a cruel fate which had sent me into the world, doomed to grow up a bashful man. If, by falling one thousand feetplumb down, I could have sunk through that floor, I would have run therisk. 

"You heard about the ba----" began Hetty. 

It was too much! In my torment I moved my feet without meaning to, andthey hit against the leg of the bedstead with some force. 

"What's that?"

"A cat under the bed, I should say. "

"More likely a rat. Oh, girls! it may gnaw our cloaks; mine is underthere, I know. "

"Well, let us drive it out. "

"Oh! oh! oh! I'm afraid!"

"I'm not; I'm going to see what is under there. "

My heart ceased to beat. Should I live to the next centennial, I shallnever forget that moment. 

The girl who had spoken last stooped and looked under the bed; thismotion was followed by a thrilling shriek. 

"There's a _man_ under the bed!" she screamed. 

The other girls joined in; a wild chorus of shrieks arose, commingledwith cries of "Robber!" "Thief!" "Burglar!"

Urged to desperation, I was about to roll out from my hiding-place andmake a rush to get out, hoping to pass unrecognized by covering myface with my hands, when two or three dozen young men swooped into theroom. 

"What is it?"

"Where?"

"A man under the bed!"

"Let me at the rascal!"

"Ha! come out here, you villain!"

All was over. They dragged me out, covered with dust and feathers, and, pulling my despairing hands from over my miserable face, theyturned me to the light. Then the fury and the threats subsided. Therewas a moment's profound silence--girls and fellows stared in muteastonishment, and then--then broke from one and all a burst ofconvulsive laughter. And in the midst of those shrieks and groans ofmirth at my expense, everything grew dark, and I suffered no more. They told me afterward that I fainted dead away. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

HE OPENS THE WRONG DOOR. 

My mother and the ancient lady who presided over the mysteries of myinitiation as a member of the human fraternity, say that I was bornwith a caul over my face. Now, what I want to know is, why didn't theyleave that caul where they found it? What business had they to meddlewith the veil which beneficent nature gave me as a shield to myinfirmity? Had they respected her intention, they would have let italone--poked a hole in it for me to eat and breathe through, and leftthe veil which she kindly provided to hide my blushing face from theeyes of my fellow-creatures. 

Nature knew beforehand that I was going to be born to be bashful. Therefore she gave me a caul. Had this been respected as it shouldhave been, I could have blossomed out into my full luxuriance as a_cauli_flower whereas now I am an ever-blooming peony. 

When I rushed home after recovering from the fainting fit into whichmy hiding under the bed had driven me, I threw myself down in hesanctity of my private apartment and howled and shrieked for that caulof my infancy. But no caul came at my call. That dried and witheredthing was reposing somewhere amid the curiosities of an old hag'sbureau-drawer. 

Then I wildly wished that I were the veiled prophet of Khorassan. Butno! I was only bashful John Flutter, the butt and ridicule of a littlemeddling village. 

I knew that this last adventure would revive the memory of all myprevious exploits. I knew the girls would all go to see each other thenext day so as to have a good giggle together. Worse than that, I knewthere would be an unprecedented run of custom at the store. Therewouldn't be a girl in the whole place who wouldn't require somethingin the dry-goods line the coming day; they would come and ask for pinsand needles just for the heartless fun of seeing _me_ enduring thepangs of mental pins and needles. 

So I resolved that I would not get up that morning. The breakfast-bellrang three times; mother came up to knock at my door. 

"Oh, I am so sleepy, mother!" I answered, with a big yawn; "you knew Iwas up last night. Don't want any breakfast, just another little nap. "

So the good soul went down, leaving me to my wretched thoughts. Atnoon she came up again. 

"John, you had better rise now. Father can't come to dinner there's somany customers in the store. Seems as if there was going to be a ballto-night again; every girl in town is after ribbon, or lace, orhair-pins, or something. "

"I can't get up to-day, mother. I'm awfully unwell--got a highfever--_you'll_ have to go in and lend father a helping hand"; and soshe brought me a cup of tea and a piece of toast, and then went up totake father's place while he ate his dinner. 

I _guess_ she suspected I'd been done for again by the way those youngwomen laughed when she told them I was sick in bed: for she was prettycross when I sneaked down to tea, and didn't seem to worry about how Ifelt. Well, I kept pretty quiet the rest of the season. There weredances and sleighing parties, but I stayed away from them, andattended strictly to business. 

I don't know but that I might have begun to enjoy some peace of mind, after the winter and part of the spring had passed without any veryawful catastrophe having occurred to me; but, some time in the latterpart of May, when the roses were just beginning to bloom, andeverything was lovely, a pretty cousin from some distant part of theState came to spend a month at our house. I had never seen her before, and you may imagine how I felt when she rushed at me and kissed me, and called me her dear cousin John, just as if we had known each otherall the days of our lives. I think it was a constant surprise to herto find that I was bashful. _She_ wasn't a bit so. It embarrassed me athousand times more to see how she would slyly watch out of the cornerof her laughing eye for the signs of my diffidence. 

Well, of course, all the girls called on her, and boys too, as tothat, and I had to take her to return their visits, and I was in hotwater all the time. Before she went away, mother gave her a largeevening party. I behaved with my usual elegance of manner, stepping onthe ladies' trains and toes in dancing, calling them by other people'snames, and all those little courtesies for which I was so famous. Ieven contrived to sit down where there was no chair, to the amusementof the fellows. My cousin Susie was going away the next day. I wasdead in love with her, and my mind was taken up with the intention oftelling her so. I had not the faintest idea of whether she cared forme or not. She had laughed at me and teased me mercilessly. 

On the contrary, she had been very encouraging to Tom Todd, a younglawyer of the place--a little snob, with self-conceit enough in hisdapper body for six larger men. This evening he had been particularlyattentive to her. Susie was pretty and quite an heiress, so I knew TomTodd would try to secure her. He was just that kind of a fellow whocould propose to a girl while he was asking her out for a set of thelanciers, or handing her a plate of salad at supper. Alas, I could donothing of the kind. With all my superior opportunities, here the lastevening was half through, and I had not yet made a motion to securethe prize. I watched Tom as if he had been a thief and I a detective. I was cold and hot by turns whenever he bent to whisper in Susie'sear, as he did about a thousand times. At last, as supper-timeapproached, I saw my cousin slip out into the dining-room. I thoughtmother had sent her to see that all was right, before marshalling thecompany out to the feast. 

"Now, or never, " I thought, turning pale as death; and with oneresolute effort I slipped into the hall and so into the dining-room. 

Susie was there, doing something; but when she saw me enter she gave alittle shriek and darted into the pantry. No! I was not to be baffledthus. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but I thought of thatsnob in the parlor, and pressed on to the pantry-door. 

"Susie, " said I, very softly, trying to open it--"Susie, I _must_speak to you. Let me in. "

The more I tried to open the door the more firmly she held it. 

"Do go along with you, cousin John, " she answered. 

"I can't, Susie. I want to see you a minute. "

"See me? Oh, what a wicked fellow! Go along, or I'll tell yourmother. "

"Tell, or not; for once I'm going to have my own way, " I said, andpressing my knee against the door, I forced it open, and there stoodmy pretty cousin, angry and blushing, trying to hide from my view thecrinoline which had come off in the parlor. 

I retreated, closing the door and waiting for her to re-appear. 

In a few minutes she came out, evidently offended. 

"Susie, " I stammered, "I did--did--didn't dream your bus--bus--bustlehad come off. I only wanted to tell you that--that I pr--pr--pri--prizeyour li--li--li--"

"But I never lie, " she interrupted me, saucily. 

"That I shall be the most mis--is--is--er--able fellow that ever--"

"Now don't make a goose of yourself, cousin John, " she said, sweetly, laying her little hand on my shoulder for an instant. "Stop where youare! Tom Todd asked me to marry him, half an hour ago, and I said Iwould. "

Tom Todd, then, had got the start of me; after all. Worse! he hadsneaked into the dining-room after Susie, and had come up behind usand heard every word. As I turned, dizzy and confused, I saw hissmiling, insolent face. Enraged, unhappy, and embarrassed by hisgrieving triumph, I hastily turned to retreat into the pantry!Unfortunately, there were two doors close together, one leading to thepantry, the other to the cellar. In my blind embarrassment I mistookthem; and the next moment the whole company were startled by a loudbump--bumping, a crash, and a woman's scream. 

There was a barrel of soft-soap at the foot of the cellar-stairs, andI fell, head first, into that. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

DRIVEN FROM HIS LAST DEFENCE. 

Susie was Mrs. Todd before I recovered from the effects of myinvoluntary soap-bath. 

"Smart trick!" cried my father when he fished me out of the barrel. 

I thought it _was_ smart, sure enough, by the sensation in my eyes. But I have drawn a veil over that bit of my history. I know myeyesight was injured for all that summer. I could not tell a piece ofsilk from a piece of calico, except by the feeling; so I was excusedfrom clerking in the store, and sat round the house with green goggleson, and wished I were different from what I was. By fall my eyesightgot better. One day father came in the parlor where I was sittingmoping, having just seen Tom Todd drive by in a new buggy with hisbride, and said to me:

"John, I am disappointed in you. "

"I know it, " I answered him meekly. 

"You look well enough, and you have talent enough, " he went on; "butyou are too ridiculously bashful for an ostrich. "

"I know it, " I again replied. "Oh, father, father, why did they takethat caul from my face?"

"That--what?" inquired my puzzled sire. 

"That caul--wasn't I born with a caul, father?"

"Now that I recall it, I believe you were, " responded father, whilehis stern face relaxed into a smile, "and I wish to goodness they hadleft it on you, John; but they didn't, and that's an end of it. What Iwas going to say was this. Convinced that you will never succeed as mysuccessor--that your unconquerable diffidence unfits you for thedry-goods trade--I have been looking around for some such situation asI have often heard you sigh for. The old light-house keeper onBuncombe Island is dead, and I have caused you to be appointed hissuccessor. You will not see a human being except when supplies arebrought to you, which, in the winter, will be only once in two months. Even then your peace will not be disturbed by any sight of one of theother sex. You will not need a caul there! Go, my son, and remainuntil you can outgrow your absurd infirmity. "

I felt dismayed at the prospect, now that it was so near at hand. Ihad often--in the distance--yearned for the security of a light-house. Yet I now looked about on our comfortable parlor with a longing eye. Irecalled the pleasant tea-hour when there were no visitors; I thoughtof the fun the boys and girls would have this coming winter, and Iwished father had not been so precipitate in securing that vacantplace. 

Just then Miss Gabble came up our steps, and shortly after entered theparlor. She was one of those dreaded beings, who always filled me withthe direst confusion. She sat right down by my side and squeezed myhand. 

"My poor, dear fellow-mortal!" said she, getting her sharp face soclose to mine I thought she was going to kiss me, "how do you do?Wearing them goggles yet? It is too bad. And yet, after all, they aresort of becoming to you. In fact, you're so good-looking you can wearanything. And how your mustache does grow, to be sure!"

I saw father was getting up to leave the room, and I flung her handaway, saying quickly to him: "I'll get the glass of water, father. "

And so I beat him that time, and got out of the room, quite willing tolive in the desert of Sahara, if by it I could get rid of suchfemales. 

Well, I went to Buncombe Island. I retired from the world to alight-house in the first bloom of my youth. I did not want to be amonk--I could not be a man--and so I did what fate and my father laidout for me to do. Through the fine autumn weather I enjoyed myretirement. I had taken plenty of books and magazines with me to whileaway the time; there was a lovely promenade along the sea-wall onwhich the tall tower stood, and I could walk there for hours withoutmy pulse being disturbed by visions of parasols, loves of bonnets, andpretty faces under them. I communed with the sea. I told it my rationswere too salt; that I didn't like the odor of the oil in filling thelamps; that my legs got tired going up to the lantern, and that myarms gave out polishing the lenses. I also confided to it that I wouldnot mind these little trifles if I only had one being to share mysolitude--a modest, shy little creature that I wouldn't be afraid toask to be my wife. 

 "Oh, had we some bright little isle of our own, In a blue summer ocean far off and alone. "

I'd forget the curse of my life and be happy in spite of it. 

When winter shut down, however, I didn't talk quite so much to thesea; it was ugly and boisterous, and the windy promenade wasdangerous, and I shut myself up and pined like the "Prisoner ofChillon. " I have lots of spunk and pride, if I am bashful; and so Inever let on to those at home--when I sent them a letter once in twomonths by the little tug that brought my oil and provisions--that Iwas homesick. I said the ocean was glorious; that there was a Byronicsublimity in lighting up the lantern; that standing behind a counterand showing dry-goods to silly, giggling girls couldn't be comparedwith it; that I hadn't blushed in six months, and that I didn't thinkI should ever be willing to come back to a world full of grinningsnobs and confusing women. 

And now, what do you think happened to me? My fate was too strong evenfor Buncombe Island. It was the second of January. The tug had notleft the island, after leaving a nine-weeks' supply, more than twelvehours before a fearful gale began to blow; it rose higher and higherthrough the night, and in the morning I found that a smallsailing-vessel had been wrecked about half a mile from thelight-house, where the beach ran out for some distance into the water, and the land was not so high as on the rock. I ran down there, thewind still roaring enough to blow me away, and the spray dashing intomy eyes, and I found the vessel had gone to pieces and every man wasdrowned. 

But what was this that lay at my feet? A woman, lashed to a spar, andapparently dead. When I picked her up, though, she opened her eyes andshut them again. Enough! this was no time to think of peculiardifficulties. I lugged her to the warm room in the light-house where Isat and lived. I put her before the fire; I heated some brandy andpoured it between her lips; in short, when I sat down to my littletea-table late that afternoon, somebody sat on the opposite side--awoman--a girl, rather, not more than eighteen or nineteen. Here shewas, and here she must remain for two long months. 

_She_ did not seem half so much put out as I. In fact, she was quitecalm, after she had explained to me that she was one of threepassengers on board the sailing-vessel, and that all the others weredrowned. 

"You will have to remain here for two months, " I ventured to explainto her, coloring like a lobster dabbed into hot water. 

"Oh, then, I may as well begin pouring the tea at once, " she observedcoolly; "that's a feminine duty, you know, sir. "

"I'm glad you're not afraid of me, " I ventured to say. 

"Afraid of you!" she replied, tittering. "No, indeed. It is _you_ whoare afraid of _me_. But I sha'n't hurt you, sir. You mind youraffairs, and I'll mind mine, and neither of us will come to grief. Why, what a lot of books you've got! And such an easy-chair! It's justsplendid here, and so romantic, like the stories we read. "

I repressed a groan, and allowed her, after supper, and she had doneas she said--washed the dishes--to take possession of my favorite bookand my favorite seat. She was tired with her adventures of the nightbefore, and soon asked where she was to sleep. 

"In there, " I answered, pointing to the door of a small bedroom whichopened out of the living-room. 

She went in, and locked the door; and I went up to the lantern to seethat all was right, and to swear and tear around a little. Here was atwo-months'-long embarrassment! Here was all my old trouble back in anew shape! What would my folks--what would the world say? Would theybelieve the story about the wreck? Must my character suffer? Even atthe best, I must face this girl of the period from morning untilnight. She had already discovered that I was bashful; she would takeadvantage of it to torment me. What would the rude men say when theycame again with supplies?

Better measure tape in my father's store for a lot of teasing youngladies whom I know, than dwell alone in a light-house with thisinconsiderate young woman!

"If ever I get out of this scrape, I will know when I am well off!" Imoaned, tearing my hair, and gazing wildly at the pitiless lights. 

Suddenly a thought struck me. I had seen a small boat beached near thescene of the wreck; it probably had belonged to the ship. I remainedin the lantern until it began to grow daybreak; then I crept down andout, and ran to examine that boat. It was water-proof, and one of itsoars still remained. The waves were by this time comparatively calm. Ipushed the boat into the water, jumped in, rowed around to the otherside of the island, and that day I made thirty miles, with only oneoar, landing at the city dock at sunset. I was pretty well used-up Itell you. But I had got away from that solitary female, who must havespent a pensive day at Buncombe, in wondering what had become of me. Ireported at headquarters that night, resigned, and started for home. I'm afraid the light-house lamps were not properly tended that night;still, they may have been, and that girl was equal to anything. 

Such is life! Such has been _my_ experience. Do you wonder that I amstill a bachelor? I will not go on, relating circumstances in my lifewhich have too much resemblance to each other. It would only be arepetition of my miserable blunders. But I will make a proposition toyoung ladies in general. I am well-to-do; the store is in a mostflourishing condition; I have but one serious fault, and you all knowwhat that is. Now, will not some of you take pity on me? I might bewaylaid, blindfolded, lifted into a carriage, and abducted. I might bebrought before a minister and frightened into marrying any nice, handsome, well-bred girl that had courage enough for such anemergency. Once safely wedded, I have a faint idea that my bashfulnesswill wear off. Come! who is ready to try the experiment?

 * * * * *

Murine Eye Remedies

Murine is a Reliable Domestic Eye Remedy, Perfectly Harmless, andshould be in the Medicine Closet of every Family, as a "First Aid" forInjuries or Diseased Conditions of that delicate organ, the Eye. 

[Illustration]

It does not Smart or Irritate the Eye, but is Soothing in its action. Tonic, Astringent and an Antiseptic Lotion, and while it is used byPhysicians it is in every sense a Domestic Remedy and can be used byevery one with Perfect Safety for the Prevention of Eye Troubles andfor Affections and Diseases of the external surface of the Eye andLids. 

Recommended for Weak Eyes, Strained Eyes, Itching Eyes, Red Eyes andEyelids, for Well Eyes that are Tired, for Red Eyes from Weeping, forRedness and Swelling of the Eyelids, and for Eyes affected by theexcessive use of Tobacco and Stimulants. 

Your Druggist sells Murine Eye Remedies. Our Books mailed Free, tellyou all about them and how to use them. 

May be sent by mail at following prices. 

Murine Eye Remedy 25c. , 50c. , $1. 00

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Granuline--For Chronic Sore Eyes and Trachoma 1. 50

MURINE EYE REMEDY CO. 

Michigan Avenue and Randolph Street, CHICAGO, U. S. A. 

 * * * * *

OGILVIE'S POPULAR

RAILROAD SERIES. 

[Illustration]

A KENTUCKY EDITOR O. READ

FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH A. W. MARCHMONT

WITH FORCE AND ARMS HOWARD R. GARIS

THE BUBBLE FAMILY 175 illus BOB BUBBLE

200 OLD-TIME SONGS. Words and Music. 

CHORUS GIRLS I HAVE KNOWN FRANK DESHON

'WAY BACK IN '61 G. M. WHITE

MODERN PALMISTRY; or, Guide to the Hand INA OXENFORD

THE RACING PARSON CHAS. JOSIAH ADAMS

'WAY DOWN EAST JOS. R. GRISMER

MORE TO BE PITIED THAN SCORNED C. E. BLANEY

DESERTED AT THE ALTAR GRACE MILLER WHITE

A WIFE'S CONFESSIONS GRACE MILLER WHITE

WHY WOMEN SIN GRACE MILLER WHITE

A CLEVER ESCAPE NAT GOULD

A BID FOR FREEDOM GUY BOOTHBY

CHASED BY FIRE NAT GOULD

A GREAT STRUGGLE NAT GOULD

PEOPLE I'VE SMILED WITH MARSHALL P. WILDER

HIS CUBAN SWEETHEART RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE

A FASCINATING TRAITOR RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE

A CAPTIVE PRINCESS RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE

AN EXILE FROM LONDON RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE

MY OFFICIAL WIFE RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE

THE TRAGEDY OF ADREA E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

RICHARD BAXTER EDWARD F. JONES

THE DREAM OF LOVE EMIL ZOLA

HIRAM BIRDSEED AT JAMESTOWN HIRAM BIRDSEED

A FAITHFUL LOVER AMELIE RIVES

A GENTLEMAN FROM MISSISSIPPI THOS. A. WISE

THE LETTERS OF MILDRED'S MOTHER TO MILDRED E. D. PRICE

THE PRIDE OF THE RANCHO HENRY E. SMITH

THE ASHES OF LOVE CHARLES GARVICE

ST. ELMO AUGUSTA J. EVANS

ARSENE LUPIN, Gentleman Burglar MAURICE LEBLANO

ARSENE LUPIN versus HERLOCK SHOLMES M. LEBLANO

TANGLES UNTANGLED PAT RICE

100 STORIES IN BLACK BRIDGES SMITH

A WOMAN'S SOUL CHARLES GARVICE

THE CHINATOWN TRUNK MYSTERY OLIVE HARPER

SHERLOCK HOLMES DETECTIVE STORIES. A. C. DOYLE

Any of the above books are for sale by newsdealers everywhere, or theywill be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents per copy. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUB. CO. , 57, Ross Street, New york. 

 * * * * *

HERE'S ANOTHER ONE!

If you have read any of the detective stories which we haverecommended to you, such as THE WORLD'S FINGER, MACON MOORE, Etc. , youknow that our statements in regard to their being "the real thing"were not overdrawn. We now have another one just as good, which weunhesitatingly recommend. It is entitled

[Illustration]

THE HOUSE

BY THE RIVER

BY

FLORENCE WARDEN. 

WHAT THE REVIEWERS SAY OF IT. 

 "Florence Warden is the Anna Katharine Greene of England. She apparently has the same marvelous capacity as Mrs. Rohlfs for concocting the most complicated plots and most mystifying mysteries, and serving them up hot to her readers. "--_N. Y. Globe. _

 "The author has a knack of intricate plot-work which will keep an intelligent reader at _her_ books, when he would become tired over far better novels not so strongly peppered. For even the 'wisest men' now and then relish not only a little nonsense, but as well do they enjoy a thrilling story of mystery. And this is one--a dark, deep, awesome, compelling if not convincing tale. "--_Sacramento Bee. _

 "The interest of the story is deep and intense, and many guesses might be made of the outcome, as one reads along, without hitting on the right one. "--_Salt Lake Tribune_. 

This book contains 310 pages, printed in large clear type, and isbound in handsome paper cover. It is for sale by booksellers andnewsdealers everywhere, or it will be sent by mail, postpaid, uponreceipt of price, 25 cents. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

SENSATIONAL

FRENCH FICTION

makes a strong appeal to a certain class of readers--people who havelived long enough to realize that there are huge problems of sex andmatrimony, that can only be solved through the actual experience ofthe persons concerned. Numberless books have been and are beingwritten and published treating on these questions, and if throughreading them we are enabled to enlarge our view, look at our problemfrom a different angle, appropriate for our own use the benefit ofothers' experience either actual or imaginary, by just so much are webetter able to live and think aright and secure to ourselves thehappiness that is our inherent right and goal. 

[Illustration]

SAPPHO

BY ALPHONSE DAUDET, is a book dealing with the great elements of love and passion asdepicted by life in the gay French capital, Paris. It created anenormous sensation when first written, and has been in steady demandever since from those who, for the first time, have a chance to readit. It should be read by every thoughtful man and woman. 

For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, 50 cents. 

 * * * * *

WELL! WELL!! WELL!!!

[Illustration]

Talk about your mystery and detective stories--

THE MYSTERY

OF THE

RAVENSPURS

By FRED. M. WHITE, is certainly a hummer. 

Mr. White stands in the forefront of the mystery and detective storywriters of the English speaking world to-day, and this is one of hisbest and latest books. 

Do you like surprises that make your eyes open wide? Sustainedexcitement and strange scenes that compel you to read on page afterpage with unflagging interest? Something that lifts you out of yourworld of care and business, and transports you to another land, clime, and scenes? Then don't fail to read

The Mystery of the Ravenspurs. 

It is a romantic tale of adventure, mystery and amateur detectivework, with scenes laid in England, India, and the distant andcomparatively unknown Thibet. A band of mystics from the lattercountry are the prime movers in the various conspiracies, and theirnew, unique, weird, strange methods form one of the features of thestory. 

Read of the clever detective work by blind Ralph, which borders uponthe supernatural; of walking the black Valley of Death in Thibet, withits attendant horrors; of the Princess Zara, and her power, intrigueand treachery laid bare; of the poisonous bees and the deadly perfumeflowers. Unflagging interest holds your spell-bound attention fromcover to cover. 

NEW! UP-TO-DATE! ENTERTAINING!

The book contains 320 pages, bound in paper cover, with handsomeillustration in colors. Formerly published in cloth at $1. 25, nowissued in paper covers at 25 CENTS. 

For sale by booksellers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, uponreceipt of price. Address

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

The Price Inevitable;

OR, THE CONFESSIONS OF IRENE. 

BY

AURELIA I. SIDNER. 

Confessions of whatever nature always seem to appeal to the Americanpeople, possibly because of the fact that in writing such a confessionthe author usually lays bare the one great wrong committed, andendeavors to show and teach by example and experience how the mistakeor indiscretion could have been avoided, and how, also, there mustalways be paid THE PRICE INEVITABLE. 

This story tells, in a series of letters, of a woman who was divorcedfrom her husband, but who in order to win the love and respect of apure, honest man, strives to live aright. She fails to win his love, however, owing to her past life, but does succeed in redeemingherself. The story is charmingly written, and is more thaninteresting--it holds one spell-bound. It is full of excitement andaction, and the characters are strongly drawn and true to nature. Themoral tone is refreshing and the climax is a lengthy SERMON in itself. 

The book contains 212 pages with 3 full-page half-tone illustrations, and can be obtained at your dealers or from us, cloth bound, for 50cents, postpaid. 

 * * * * *

HERE WE COME AGAIN

With Another Rattling Good

ADVENTURE AND DETECTIVE STORY!

SPRIGGS, THE

CRACKSMAN. 

By HEADON HILL

[Illustration]

Ordinarily Spriggs was a cracksman, but the information he gainedwhile at work one night so surprised him, that he forgot to "burgle, "and then and there decided to get busy on a job that meant a cleanupof a $60, 000 diamond. It led him a perilous chase in which the nativepriests and followers of a hidden band in India showed him some thingsnot seen on the "Strand. "

He also has trouble awaiting him on his return to England. His heartis in the right place, however, a little kindness, sympathy and helphaving been all that were required to change his attitude towardhumanity, and he is able to show his gratitude at an opportune moment. 

A STIRRING, ENTERTAINING, SPELL-BINDING STORY!

The book contains 345 solid pages of reading matter, bound inattractive paper cover printed in colors. For sale by booksellers andnewsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice, 25 cents. 

 * * * * *

DO YOU ENJOY

reading a book that has just enough dash and piquancy about it tocause a smile to wreathe your face? A book that tells in an extremelyhumorous way of the doings of some smart theatrical folk? Life is manysided, and our book, [Illustration]

THE LETTERS OF

MILDRED'S MOTHER TO MILDRED

BY E. D. PRICE, shows one of the sides with which you may not be familiar. 

Mildred is a girl in the chorus at one of New York's famous theatres, and her mother is a woman who "travels" with a friend by the name ofBlanche. The book is written by E. D. Price, "The Man Behind theScenes, " one well qualified to touch upon the stage-side of life. 

The following is the Table of Contents:

Mother at the Races. 

Mother at a Chicago Hotel. 

Mother Goes Yachting. 

Mother Escapes Matrimony, Mother Meets Nature's Noblemen. 

Mother Joins the Repertoire Company. 

Mother in the One Night Stands. 

Mother and the Theatrical Angel. 

Mother Returns to Mildred. 

Read what Blakely Hall says of it:

 "I don't know whether you are aware of it or not, but you are turning out wonderful, accurate and convincing character studies in the Mildred's Mother articles. They are as refreshing and invigorating as showers on the hottest July day. "

The book contains 160 pages, with attractive cover in colors. Price, cloth bound, $1. 00; paper cover, 50 cents. For sale by all booksellerseverywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price. Address

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

The Testing of

Olive Vaughan

By PERCY J. BREBNER, _Author of "The Princess Maritza, " Etc. _

The stage has ever held an allurement for the lay reader, the generalpublic, and the uninitiated, so to speak, and Mr. Brebner has chosenthis background for the setting of his story, and has woven aroundOlive Vaughan, scenes and incidents showing the temptations to whichevery aspirant for theatrical fame and fortune is subject, and showingtoo, how, through right decisions and correct judgment based on inbornand developing strength of character, she is able to rise superior toher surroundings and wrest a great success. This is not easy toaccomplish, however, and its telling, which shows a fine literarystyle and unquestioned powers of characterization and description, iswhat makes the author one of the most popular among fiction writers ofthe present day. 

It will appeal strongly to every woman who has at any time in hercareer been called upon to decide the momentous question ofmarrying--whether to follow the dictates of the heart and marry theone she loves, or follow the decisions of the mind overruling theheart, and marry one who can give her position and plenty, and whomshe expects to be able to learn to love. 

The book contains 296 pages, printed from new, large type on goodpaper, bound in paper cover with attractive design in colors. For saleby newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of25 cents. Bound in cloth, price, 75 cents. 

 * * * * *

The Confessions

Of a Princess

A book of this sort would necessarily be anonymous, and the name ofthe author is not necessary as indicative of literary ability, thestrength of the story depending upon its action as revealed throughthe laying bare of the innermost secrets of a "Princess of the Realm"whose disposition and character were such as to compel her to findelsewhere than in her own home the love, tenderness, admiration, andsociety which was lacking there, and which her being craved. 

Position, money and power, seem to those who do not possess them, tobring happiness. Such is not the case, however, where stability ofcharacter is lacking and where one depends upon the pleasures of sensefor the enjoyment of life rather than on the accomplishment of thingsworth while based on high ideals. 

The writer has taken a page from her life and has given it to theworld. She has laid bare the soul of a woman, that some other woman(or some man) might profit thereby. The names have been changed, andsuch events omitted as might lead too readily to the discovery oftheir identity. Each the victim of circumstance, yet the _price_ isdemanded of the one who fell the victim of environment. 

_The Confessions of a Princess_ is the story of a woman who saw, conquered and fell. 

The book contains 270 pages, printed from new, large type on goodpaper, bound in paper cover with attractive design in colors. For saleby newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt, of25 cents. Bound in cloth, price, 75 cents. 

 * * * * *

AN AUTOMOBILE

has a fascination for millions of people. There is an exhilaration, arestful, soothing, satisfying feeling about automobiling for pleasurethat seems different from that achieved in other ways. But it has itstrying, adventurous, and fearful side as well, and so to those whohave experienced these emotions, and to those who would like toexperience them, we heartily recommend the book

[Illustration]

THE CAR

AND THE LADY

By GRACE S. MASON and PERCY F. MEGARGEL, in which actual experience has been partially interwoven with fictionin an exciting narrative of a race across the American continent. Adventure, mistakes, accidents, good fortune, and surprise, follow oneanother in rapid succession, keeping the tension of the reader atexcitement pitch until the goal is reached and the prize won--a prizewhich at some time in every one's career is quite the only prize onearth. 

The book contains 276 pages of solid reading matter, printed fromlarge, new type on good quality of paper, and bound in attractivepaper covers printed in colors. It is for sale by booksellers andnewsdealers everywhere, or will be sent by mail, postpaid, uponreceipt of 25 cents. 

 * * * * *

LATEST ADDITIONS

TO

OGILVIE'S

POPULAR

RAILROAD

SERIES. 

[Illustration]

SPRIGGS, THE CRACKSMAN HEADON HILL

LADY VERNER'S FLIGHT THE "DUCHESS"

THE TESTING OF OLIVE VAUGHAN P. T. BREBNER

THE CONFESSIONS OF A PRINCESS ---- ----

SELF-RAISED MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH

ISHMAEL MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH

ONLY A GIRL'S LOVE CHARLES GARVICE

SAPPHO ALPHONSE DAUDET

THE HUMOROUS MR. BOWSER M. QUAD

A BAD BOY'S DIARY BY HIMSELF

A WOUNDED HEART CHARLES GARVICE

EAST LYNNE MRS. HENRY WOOD

THE PEER AND THE WOMAN E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

ALONE ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA W. CLARK RUSSELL

DANGERS OF WORKING GIRLS GRACE MILLER WHITE

A LOYAL SLAVE GRACE MILLER WHITE

Any of the above books are for sale by newsdealers everywhere, or theywill be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents per copy. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

MACON MOORE, THE

SOUTHERN DETECTIVE. 

[Illustration]

Here is another rattling good book that we unhesitatingly recommend toevery one who enjoys a thrilling detective story. Each chaptercontains a startling episode in the attempt of MACON MOORE to run toearth a gang of moonshiners in Southern Georgia, whose business wasthat of manufacturing illicit whisky. 

His capture by the "Night Riders, " and his daring escape from them attheir meeting in the Valley of Death, forms one of the many excitingincidents of the story. 

One of our readers writes to us as follows:

 "I was absolutely unable to stop reading "Macon Moore" until I had finished it. I expected to read for an hour or so, but the situations were so dramatic and exciting at the end of each chapter, that before I knew it I had started the next one. I have read it three times, once while practicing exercises on the piano, and shall read it again. It is a corker. "

The book contains 250 pages, is bound in paper covers, and will besent to any address by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

_READ IT! READ IT! READ IT!_

[Illustration]

THE ASHES OF LOVE. 

... BY ... 

CHARLES GARVICE, The Matchless Magician of Fiction. 

UNPARALLELED IN INTEREST!

UNEQUALLED IN ITS

THRILLING SITUATIONS!

Unsurpassed in Dramatic Intensity

This Marvellous Story of Love, Passion, Mystery, Intrigue

and Adventure Holds the

Reader Spell-bound. 

From the pastoral beauty and palatial mansions of a northern clime, wefollow hero and heroine, with breathless interest, to the sun-scorchedveldt and arid plains of Southern Africa. 

On two continents we watch the battle between VIRTUE ANDVILLAINY--HONOR AND RASCALITY--JUSTICE AND KNAVERY. 

By the magic art of the author we are transformed from mere readers, and become actual participants in a life drama of tremendousinterest--a drama which stirs every fibre of our being and sends theblood coursing like a mill-race through the tense arteries of aspell-bound body. 

THE CONVENTIONAL SCORNED!

THE COMMONPLACE SPURNED!

New Faces! New Types! New Scenes! New Thrills!

SEIZE THE GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY HERE AND NOW. 

Don't Procrastinate! Don't Delay! But Buy and Read this

Stupendous Masterpiece of Matchless Fiction. 

PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

The Ashes of Love contains nearly 450 pages of solid reading matter, printed in large type on good quality of paper, bound in paper coverswith attractive cover design in two colors. It is for sale bynewsdealers and booksellers everywhere, or will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents. 

 * * * * *

Do You Enjoy

A Good Story of the Western Plains?

If So, Don't Fail to Read

[Illustration]

The Pride of the Rancho. 

By HENRY E. SMITH. 

_12mo, 192 Pages. Price, Paper Bound_, _25 Cents; Bound in Cloth, $1. 00. _

The story is founded upon his play of the same name. 

The scene is laid in the West, where two college men have gone inquest of health, and found it. It shows two manly, unselfishcharacters, such as the youth of the present day might well emulate. 

It is full of the air, the love, and the excitement of the plains. Theplot is fascinating and the love story charming. 

A pretty romance is woven into the narrative, portraying the personalcharms and clever attractiveness of the Western girl, even though thedaughter of a ranchman. It carries a good moral throughout and iseminently attractive to both young and old. 

The book contains 192 pages, with a frontispiece illustration. Price, paper bound, 25 cents; bound in cloth, $1. 00. For sale by allbooksellers and newsdealers, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice. 

 * * * * *

Eureka Detective Series

[Illustration]

All of the books in the Eureka Series are clever detective stories, and each one of those mentioned below has received the heartiestrecommendation. Ask for the Eureka Series detective books. 

1. Inspector Henderson, the Central Office Detective. By H. I. Hancock

2. His Evil Eye. By Harrie I. Hancock

3. Detective Johnson of New Orleans. By H. I. Hancock

4. Harry Blount, the Detective. By T. J. Flanagan

5. Harry Sharp, the New York Detective. By H. Rockwood

6. Private Detective No. 39. By John W. Postgate

7. Not Guilty. By the author of "The Original Mr. Jacobs"

8. A Confederate Spy. By Capt. Thos. N. Conrad

9. A Study in Scarlet. By A. Conan Doyle

10. The Unwilling Bride. By Fergus W. Hume

11. The Man Who Vanished. By Fergus W. Hume

12. The Lone Inn. By Fergus W. Hume

13. The World's Finger. By T. Hanshew

14. Tour of the World in Eighty Days. By Jules Verne

15. The Frozen Pirate. By W. Clark Russell

16. Mystery of a Hansom Cab. By Fergus W. Hume

17. A Close Call. By J. L. Berry

18. No. 99; A Detective Story. By Arthur Griffith

19. The Sign of the Four. By A. Conan Doyle

20. The Mystery of the Montauk Mills. By E. L. Coolidge

21. The Mountain Limited. By E. L. Coolidge

22. Gilt-Edge Tom, Conductor. By E. L. Coolidge

23. The Mossbank Murder. By Harry Mills

24. The Woman Stealer. By Harry Mills

25. King Dan, The Factory Detective. By G. W. Goode

See other advertisement for other list of titles in the Eureka Series. 

You can obtain the Eureka Series books where you bought this one, orwe will mail them to you, postpaid, for 25 cents each, or any five for$1. 00. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

[Illustration]

NEW YORK'S LATEST SENSATION

We have just issued in novel form

the story of

THE DEVIL, founded upon the successful and much discussed play of the same nameby

FERENC MOLNAR, as produced by

HENRY W. SAVAGE. 

The title is startling. The story is not so startling as the titlewould indicate. It is a strongly moral one, showing in a vivid, realistic manner the result of evil thinking. The Devil in this storyis evil thinking materialized. 

The scene centers in Vienna, and deals with the early love of a poorartist and a poorer maiden. As the years go by the artist achievesdistinction, and the maiden becomes the wife of a millionairemerchant--with very little romance in his composition, but thoroughlydevoted to his young and beautiful bride. 

Seven years later the artist (who has been received as a valued friendof the family) is commissioned to paint the wife's portrait--and theold love re-asserts itself. For a while the issue is problematical;but stability of character conquers, and the ending is quite as theheart would wish. 

The book also contains an article by the noted author, Ella WheelerWilcox, pointing out the strong moral to be deduced. 

It contains 190 pages, printed in large, clear type on best quality ofbook paper, with eight half-tone illustrations from the play. Price, handsomely bound in cloth, 50 cents, net, postage 10 cents additional;bound in paper covers, 25 cents, postpaid. 

For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mailupon receipt of price. 

 * * * * *

OGILVIE'S POPULAR COPYRIGHT LINE

THE NEW MAYOR

A Novel

Founded upon GEORGE BROADHURST'S play

The Man of the Hour

Handsomely bound in cloth and stamped in colors, containing 250 pageswith twelve illustrations from the play

Price 50 cents, net, postage 10 cents additional

It has been issued under the title of THE NEW MAYOR, in order not toconflict with a book published under the title, The Man of the Hour. 

Thousands of people have not had the opportunity of seeing the play, and to them, as well as to those who have seen it, we desire toannounce that we are the authorized publishers of the Story of GeorgeBroadhurst's Play in book form. There is already an enormous demandfor this book, owing to the fact that the play is meeting with such atremendous success, having been presented in New York for over sixhundred consecutive performances, with four companies on tourthroughout the United States. 

The play has received the highest praise and commendation from criticsand the press, a few of which we give herewith:

 "THE FINEST PLAY I EVER SAW. "--Ex-President Roosevelt. 

 "The best in years. "--_N. Y. Telegram. _

 "A perfect success. "--_N. Y. Sun. _

 "A triumph. "--_N. Y. American. _

 "Best play yet. "--_N. Y. Commercial. _

 "A sensation. "--_N. Y. Herald. _

 "An apt appeal. "--_N. Y Globe. _

 "A straight hit. "--_N. Y. World. _

 "A play worth while. "--_N. Y. News. _

 "Means something. "--_N. Y. Tribune. _

 "An object lesson. "--_N. Y. Post. _

This novel is a strong story of politics, love, and graft, and appealspowerfully to every true American. 

SENT BY MAIL, POSTAGE PAID, FOR 60 CENTS. 

Be sure to get the book founded on the play. 

You can buy this at any bookstore or direct from us. 

 * * * * *

THE BIG NOISE! THE LOUD SCREAM! THE TALL HOLLER!

[Illustration]

You Will Laugh, You Will Yell, You Will Scream at

THE BLUNDERS OF

A BASHFUL MAN

The World's Champion

Funny Book. 

READ IT! READ IT! READ IT!

It eradicates wrinkles, banishes care, and by its laughter-compellingmirth and irresistible humor rejuvenates the whole body. Whether youare a bashful man or not, you should read

THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN. 

In this screamingly funny volume the reader follows, with raptattention and hilarious delight, the mishaps, mortifications, confusions, and agonizing mental and physical distresses of aself-conscious, hypersensitive, appallingly bashful young man, in asuccession of astounding accidents, and ludicrous predicaments, thatconvulse the reader with cyclonic laughter, causing him to hold bothsides for fear of exploding from an excess of uproarious merriment. 

All records beaten as a fun-maker, rib-tickler, and laugh-provoker. This marvellous volume of merriment proves melancholy an impostor, andgrim care a joke. With joyous gales of mirth it dissipates gloom andbanishes trouble. 

YOU WANT IT! YOU CANNOT DO WITHOUT IT!

Better Than Drugs! Better Than Vaudeville!

A WHOLE CIRCUS IN ITSELF!

The Time, the Place, the Opportunity is Here!

BUY IT NOW!

THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN contains 170 solid pages of readingmatter, illustrated, is bound in heavy lithographed paper covers, andwill be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price, 25cents. Address orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

SYMPATHY AROUSED! SENTIMENT CULTIVATED!

LONGING SATISFIED!

LADY VERNER'S FLIGHT. 

[Illustration]

By "THE DUCHESS. "

Author of "Molly Bawn, " "The Honorable Mrs. Vereker, " Etc. 

"The Duchess" is famous as an author of those stories which delightthe heart and mind of young women readers through the artisticword-painting of scenes and incidents which arouse interest, stimulatedesire, and satisfy the appetite for mental diversion, recreation, entertainment, and pleasure. 

LADY VERNER'S FLIGHT is no exception to her reputed ability; in fact, in it she quite surpasses her own standard, and the reader followswith breathless interest the vicissitudes and trials that mark thecourse of this pure story of English life in which there are no lessthan three love affairs going on at the same time. 

WITHOUT A PARALLEL IN INTEREST!

ABOUNDING IN TENSE SITUATIONS!

REPLETE WITH THRILLING INCIDENTS!

TRUE TO LIFE!

You read this book with delight, and finish it with a sigh!

Now is the time to secure a copy!

Don't delay, but buy and read this masterpiece of fiction!

The book contains 310 solid pages of reading matter, bound inattractive paper cover printed in colors. For sale by booksellers andnewsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice, 25 cents. 

 * * * * *

THE SHADOW OF A CROSS. 

BY

MRS. DORA NELSON

AND

F. C. HENDERSCHOTT. 

[Illustration]

"The sweetest American story ever written, " wrote one critic inreviewing the story, which first appeared as a serial in a magazine oflarge circulation. A strong inquiry for the novel in book formdeveloped, and we have just issued the book to meet this demand. 

The story is wholly American in sentiment, and every chapter appealsto the reader's sympathies, as the whole book pulsates with pure andcherished ideals. The love theme is sweet and intensely interesting. Through the political fight, the victory and the defeat, the lovethread is never lost sight of. The intense struggle in the heart ofthe heroine between her Church and her lover is of such deep humaninterest, that it holds the reader in ardent sympathy until the happysolution, when the reader smiles, wipes the moisture from the eyes, and breathes happily again. 

While the narrative is intensely interesting, it is more; it instructsand educates. To read it is to feel improved and delighted. Don't missthis treat; it is one of the very best American stories of recentyears. 

The book is printed on best quality of laid book paper, containsnearly 200 pages, and is bound in paper covers with handsomeillustration. It will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address uponreceipt of price, 25 cents. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

LAUGH! YELL! SCREAM!

Read It! Read It! Read It!

A Bad

Boy's Diary

By "LITTLE GEORGIE, "

The Laughing Cyclone. 

[Illustration]

THE FUNNIEST BOOK EVER WRITTEN!

In this matchless volume of irresistible, rib-tickling fun, the BadBoy, an incarnate but lovable imp of mischief, records his dailyexploits, experiences, pranks and adventures, through all of which youfollow him with an absorbing interest that never flags, stopping onlywhen convulsions of laughter and aching sides force the mirth-sweptbody to take an involuntary respite from a feast of fun, stupendousand overwhelming. 

In the pages of this excruciatingly funny narrative can be found theelixir of youth for all man and womankind. The magic of its pagescompel the old to become young, the careworn gay, and carking troublehides its gloomy head and flies away on the blithesome wings ofuncontrollable laughter. 

IT MAKES YOU A BOY AGAIN!

IT MAKES LIFE WORTH WHILE!

For old or young it is a tonic and sure cure for the blues. The BADBOY'S DIARY is making the whole world scream with laughter. Get inline and laugh too. BUY IT TO-DAY! It contains 276 solid pages ofreading matter, illustrated, is bound in lithographed paper covers, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt ofprice, 25 cents. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

The World's Finger

is the title of the most absorbing detective narrative ever written. 

[Illustration]

One would not surmise from the title that such was the fact; but theclosing chapter of the book gives the clue to its meaning: "I swore tomy father on his death-bed that The World's Finger should never pointto a Davanant as amongst the list of known convicts, and that oath Iwill keep. "

T. W. HANSHEW is the author, and a writer of more exciting andsensational detective stories cannot be found at the present day. 

One reader writes: "I thought I would read a chapter or two of THEWORLD'S FINGER, to see what it was all about. I soon found out, and itwas two o'clock in the morning before I lay it down, having read it tothe end at one sitting. It certainly is a corker. "

Bound in paper covers; price, 25 cents. Sent by mail to any addressupon receipt of price. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

STOP! HALT! ATTENTION!

Read the most astounding and exciting love story of the age

ONLY A

GIRL'S LOVE

BY

CHARLES GARVICE. 

IT

ENRAPTURES! ENTRANCES!

THRILLS! DELIGHTS!

[Illustration]

In this intensely dramatic and thrilling love story, we watch withbated breath the unfolding of a high life drama of absorbing interest. Rank and wealth, pride and prejudice, vice and villainy, combine in adesperate and determined effort to break off a romantic and thrillinglove match, the development, temporary rupture and final consummationof which, by the genius of the author, we are, with spell-boundinterest, tense arteries and throbbing hearts privileged to witness. This desperate attempt to halt the course of true love and dam thewell-springs of an ardent and romantic affection, will be watched bythe reader with a boundless and untiring interest. 

New Scenes! New Faces! New Features! New Thrills!

SECURE THIS SUPERB NOVEL

and learn for yourself the result of this astounding battle of truelove against terrific odds. 

FICTION LOVERS, NOVEL READERS, TAKE NOTICE!

Just What You Are Looking For!

A story that grips the heart and holds the reader spell-bound fromstart to finish!

A MENTAL FEAST, A LITERARY BANQUET!

You Want It! You Cannot Do Without It! Buy It To-day! Now!

The book contains 380 pages of solid reading matter, bound inattractive paper cover, printed in colors. For sale by booksellers andnewsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice, 25 cents. 

 * * * * *

THRILLING! ABSORBING! DELIGHTFUL!

The Story Sensation of the Year!

A WOUNDED HEART

BY

CHARLES GARVICE, Author of "The Ashes of Love, " "A Woman's Soul, " Etc. 

It Grips! It Holds! It Thrills!

[Illustration]

By the magic pen of the author we are carried through the seductiveand intricate mazes of a thrilling and romantic life drama ofunparalleled interest. 

In beautiful England, sunny France, and distant Australia, we watchthe movements of life-like, splendidly drawn flesh and bloodcharacters, and follow their fortunes with a zealous devotion thatnever flags. 

With breathless interest we witness the struggle for an ancestralhome, which finally passes into the possession of the scion of a noblehouse, the rightful heir, Sir Herrick Powis, thanks to the sacrificesof the heroine, than whom no more entrancing and beautiful characterexists in the whole range of modern fiction. The ending of the storyis, of course, a happy one, but this is not achieved until thetrusting heart of the heroine has been sorely wounded, and she haspassed through trials and tribulations, which win for her the love andsympathy of the spell-bound reader. 

REPLETE WITH THRILLING INCIDENTS!

Teeming With Heart Interest and Dramatic Action!

NEW! NOVEL! UNIQUE!

You Read this Book with Delight! You Lay It Down with a Sigh!

BUY IT! BUY IT! BUY IT! TO-DAY! NOW!

The book contains 400 pages of solid reading matter bound inattractive paper cover printed in colors. For sale by booksellers andnewsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofPrice, 25 Cents. 

 * * * * *

100 STORIES

IN BLACK

BY BRIDGES SMITH. 

Not in years, if ever, have we seen or read anything which approachesthe stories in this book for real, true depiction of character of theSouthern darkey of the present day. They are full of humor andentertainment, and absolutely true to life both as to the incidentsrelated, and the language used. The latter is so true, in fact, thatour compositor who set the type for the book, said that he had neverbefore seen anything like the diction and spelling. 

The author held for some years the position of City Clerk in theMayor's Office of the City of Macon, Georgia, where opportunities werepresented for full and complete observation of the people in the worldof which he writes. 

The stories originally appeared in the "Macon Daily Telegraph, " butthe demand for them in book form was so great that we have now issuedthem in permanent binding. 

The book contains 320 pages with illustrations, and is bound in papercovers with attractive and appropriate cover design. Retail price, 25cents. For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent bymail, postpaid, upon receipt of price. 

 * * * * *

THIS IS IT! IT!! IT!!!

A WOMAN'S SOUL

By CHARLES GARVICE. 

[Illustration]

A Literary Sensation!

A Matchless Masterpiece!

The Big Noise of Fiction!

A Story that Grips the Heart!

A Story that Stirs the Soul!

Guided by a master hand we watch with bated breath the unfolding of astory of unparalleled interest. Ever the unexpected happens, surprisefollows surprise, plot is succeeded by counterplot. Vice and virtue, honor and knavery, true love and duplicity, struggle desperately andincessantly for mastery until the mind is bewildered and the heart andsoul are stirred to their very depths. 

Swept irresistibly along the seductive and entrancing streams ofromantic fiction, never for one instant is the reader's interestallowed to flag. When almost exhausted with the thrilling nature ofthe narrative, the end of this matchless story is reached, and it isthen with a sigh of regret the reader bids adieu to characters thathave woven themselves around his heart, and have become part andparcel of his very life. 

UNPARALLELED AND UNSURPASSED!

New, Novel, and Unconventional!

AWAY FROM THE BEATEN TRACK OF FICTION!

Classy! Unique! The Story of the Century!

READ IT! BUY IT! JUDGE FOR YOURSELF!

_PRICE, 25 CENTS. _

A WOMAN'S SOUL contains 326 pages of solid reading matter, printed inlarge type on good quality of paper, bound in paper covers withattractive cover design in two colors. For sale by newsdealers andbooksellers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25cents. 

 * * * * *

The Most Popular Book In

America To-Day

--IS--

"ST. ELMO, "

--BY--

AUGUSTA J. EVANS, [Illustration]

The history of this Book is remarkable. It was first published nearly45 years ago, and met with a fair measure of success; but it was notuntil within the last three years that it achieved special prominence, since which time over half a million copies have been sold. 

It is hard to account for this wonderful jump into popularity at thepresent time, except for the fact that the story is one of real merit, and is now doubly recognized as such. It is a mark of signaldistinction for the author, to think that she wrote a story so muchahead of the times. 

The story is founded upon the never-old theme of love--the pure loveof a good woman--and shows the wonders that can be accomplished withand through it, even to the extent of the reclamation of an extremelytalented and extraordinary man having a predilection for evil and sin. 

No story written in years has aroused the discussion that this bookhas. 

Can you afford to miss it?

Do you want to keep abreast of the times, and read what other peopleare talking about? Then buy and read "ST. ELMO. "

The book contains 440 pages, bound in paper cover. For sale bybooksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price, 25 CENTS. 

 * * * * *

[Illustration]

DON'T MISS IT! DON'T MISS IT!! DON'T MISS IT!!!

=FATE=

By CHARLES GARVICE, Regal Ruler of the Resplendent

Realm of Romance. 

Tremendous in its Interest. 

Weird and Witchingly Fascinating in Plot and Action. 

Tense In Its Astounding Situations. 

It Grips! Amazes!! Thrills!!!

IT TUGS AT THE HEART STRINGS AND HOLDS ONE

CAPTIVE FROM COVER TO COVER. 

In this astounding story of unparalleled interest, we see the sinisterfigure of FATE stalk deviously but relentlessly through the mystifyingmazes of love, devotion, intrigue, cunning, cruelty and crime, until aconscienceless fiend, in human shape, lies prostrate in death, overwhelmed by the ruthless forces of his own creating. 

Right, truth, justice and love dashed to earth by desperate villainyand inconceivable cunning, finally triumph in the face of crimes thatcrush, and difficulties that overwhelm. 

The reader breathes a sigh of relief that hero and heroine, who havewound themselves about his heart, are once more happily united, andthat

LOVE, THE CONQUEROR, WINS AT LAST. 

This story of love, passion, mystery and revenge, makes the sluggishblood course wildly through every artery of the spell-bound frame. 

It awakens every emotion of the human heart, and sweeps the vibrantchords of sympathy and compassion. The book you need. The book youmust have. To-day! Now!! Here!!!

PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

"Fate" contains over 450 pages of solid reading matter, printed inlarge type on good quality of paper, bound in paper covers withattractive cover design in two colors. It is for sale by newsdealersand booksellers everywhere, or will be sent by mail, postpaid, uponreceipt of 25 cents. 

 * * * * *

VAIL'S DREAM BOOK

AND

COMPLETE FORTUNE TELLER

By J. R. & A. M. VAIL

You dream like everyone else does, but can you interpret them--do youunderstand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what itmeans, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correctinterpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. This book isalso the most complete fortune teller on the market. 

We give herewith a partial list of the contents:

Dreams and Their Interpretations. 

Palmistry, or Telling Fortunes by the Lines of the Hand. 

Fortune Telling by the Grounds in a Tea or Coffee Cup. 

How to Read Your Fortunes by the White of an Egg. 

How to Determine the Lucky and Unlucky Days of any Month in the Year. 

How to Ascertain Whether You will Marry Soon. 

Fortune Telling by Cards, including the Italian Method. 

A Chapter on Somniloquism and Spiritual Mediums. 

The book contains 128 pages, size 7-5/8 x 5-1/4 set in new, large, clear type, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address uponreceipt of 25 cents. For sale where you bought this book. 

 * * * * *

LOVE--COURTSHIP--MARRIAGE. 

[Illustration]

This is the newest and most up-to-date book on these subjects. Itexplains how girls may become happy wives, bachelors become happyhusbands. It includes a treatise on "The Etiquette of Marriage, "describing invitations, the dresses, the ceremony, and the properbehavior of bride and groom. 

In addition to the above there is a most brilliant editorial entitled"The Real Divorce Question"; also an article giving statistics, dates, etc. , entitled "Alarming Growth of the Divorce Evil, " by thewell-known writer, Rev. Thomas B. Gregory; and, lastly, an editorialentitled "Woman's Dignity, " which should be read by every woman in thecountry. If the young people of this country would read and studythese serious subjects before marriage the now-popular divorce wouldsoon become a thing of the past. Remember, from some one little thingin this book you may be spared a life of misery. 125 pages, paperbound; postpaid, 25 cents. 

LOVE AND COURTSHIP CARDS. 

Sparking, Courting, and Love-making made easy with these cards. Theyare arranged with such apt conversation that you will be able to findout whether a girl loves you or not without her even thinking that youare doing so. These cards may be used by two persons only, or they canbe used to entertain an evening party of young people. There are sixtycards in all, and each answer will respond differently to every one ofthe questions. Sent by mail, postpaid, for 30 cents. 

Either of the above will be sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice by J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 57 Rose Street, New York. 

 * * * * *

JUST OUT

TEMPTATIONS OF THE STAGE. 

There is probably no other book of this kind on the market that tellsso much truth from Stage Life as does this one. If there is, we do notknow of it. We herewith give the contents and leave you to draw yourown conclusions:--

[Illustration]

Ever in the Limelight. 

"Propinquity" _versus_ "Association. "

Flattery. 

See How it Sparkles. 

Gambling--Drugs. 

Dangerous Pitfalls on the Road to Success. 

My Narrow Escape. _By Della Fox. _

Girls in Burlesque Companies. _By May Howard. _

A Nation at Her Feet. _By Pauline Markham. _

Jane Hading's Career. _By Herself. _

A Woman's Blighted Life. _By Jennie O'Neill Potter. _

Cigarette Smoking. 

A Unique Sensation. _By Nina Farrington. _

Yvette Guilbert's Songs. 

A Tragic End. 

Triumphs and Failures. _By Isabelle Urquhart. _

A Mad Career. 

Likes to Wear Tights. _By Jessie Bartlett Davis. _

Jolly Jennie Joyce. 

Thorns of Stage Life. _By Maud Gregory. _

The Stage is Not Degenerating. _By Eva Mudge. _

Ethics of Stage Morality. _By Jessie Olivier. _

Stage-Door Johnnies. 

The Pace That Kills. 

Cure For the Stage Struck. 

Stage Love Letters. _Mlle. Fougere. _

Stock Companies. 

From Tights to Tea Parties. 

In Other Walks. 

The above book contains 128 pages, bound in paper cover handsomelyillustrated in colors, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to anyaddress upon receipt of 25 cents. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *

OLD WITCHES' DREAM BOOK

AND

COMPLETE FORTUNE TELLER. 

You dream like everyone else does, but can you interpret them--do youunderstand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what itmeans, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correctinterpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. This book isalso the most complete fortune teller on the market. 

We give herewith a partial list of the contents:

Dreams and Their Interpretations. 

Palmistry, or Telling Fortunes by the Lines of the Hand. 

Fortune Telling by the Grounds in a Tea or Coffee Cup. 

How to Read Your Fortune by the White of an Egg. 

How to Determine the Lucky and Unlucky Days of any Month in the Year. 

How to Ascertain Whether You will Marry Soon. 

Fortune Telling by Cards, Including the Italian Method. 

The book contains 128 pages, set in new, large, clear type, and willbe sent by mail, postpaid, to any address upon receipt of 25 cents inU. S. Stamps or postal money order. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, P. O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

 * * * * *