Pocket Magazine - Volume 1 (1895)

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UNIVERSITY OF
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SAN DIE
Jan,, 1898
Dec., 1805 * THE * Rudyard
Mary E. Kipling
Wilkins
POCKET
MAGAZINE-
MONTHLY
40001
November, 1895 10 CENTS
CTION Price 10 Cents. $ 1 a Year
36
THE CASTLE
OF CLOOM
By A. CONAN DOYLE
Mar., 1896
Feb., 1896
THE VETERAN A. Conan
Max Doyle
Pember By ELIZABETH STUART
ton PHELPS WARD
10401
That Day, Rudyard Kipling
Story of Bishop Johnson,
James L. Ford
A Reverie of College Days,
Ik Marvel
Little French Mary,
Sarah 0. Jewett
30
FICTION
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IN THIS NUMBER
Copyright, 1895, by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

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CONTENTS.
***
How the Brigadier came to the Castle

of Gloom . A. CONAN DOYLE.
That Day. RUDYARD KIPLING.
The Veteran .
ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS WARD.
The Story of Bishop Johnson.
JAMES L. FORD.
A Reverie of College Days.
IK MARVEL.
Little French Mary. SARAH O. JEWETT.
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HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME TO
THE CASTLE OF GLOOM . *
BY CONAN DOYLE.
CHAPTER I.
You do very well, my friends, to

treat me with some little deference , for
in honoring me you are honoring both
France and yourselves. It is not only
an old gray-mustached officer whom
you see eating his omelette or draining
his glass, but it is a piece of history,
and of the most glorious history which
our own or any country ever had. In
me you see one of the last of those
wonderful men-the men who were
veterans when they were yet boys, who

learned to use a sword earlier than
a razor, and who during a hundred
battles had never once let the enemy
* Copyright, 1895, by Irving Bacheller.
HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME
see the color of their knapsacks. For
twenty years we were teaching Europe

how to fight ; and even when they
learned their lesson, it was only the
thermometers and never the bayonet
which could break the Grand Army
down. Berlin, Naples , Vienna, Ma-

drid, Lisbon , Moscow-we stabled our
horses in them all. Yes, my friends ,
I say again that you do well to send
your children to me with flowers, for
these ears have heard the trumpet call
of France, and these eyes have seen
her standards in lands where they may
never be seen again.

Even now, when I doze in my arm-
chair, I can see those great warriors
stream before me : the green-jacketed
chasseurs, the giant cuirassiers, Dom-
browski's lancers, the white-mantled
dragoons, the nodding bearskins of the
horse grenadiers. And there comes
the thick, low rattle of the drums, and
through wreaths of dust and smoke I
see the line of high bonnets, the row of
TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM. 3
brown faces, the swing and toss of the

long red plumes amid the sloping line
of steel. And there rides Ney with his
red head, and Lefebvre with his bull-
dog jaw, and Lannes with his Gascon
swagger ; and then amid the gleam of
brass and the flaunting feathers, I
catch a glimpse of him-the man with
the pale smile, the rounded shoulders,
and the far-off eyes. There is an end
of my sleep, my friends, for up I spring
from my chair with a cracked voice
calling, and a silly hand outstretched ;
so that Mme. Titaux has one more
laugh at the old fellow who lives among

the shadows.
Although I was a full chief of bri-
gade when the wars came to an end,

and had every hope of soon being
made a general of division, it is still
rather to my earlier days that I turn
when I wish to talk of the glories and
the trials of a soldier's life. For you
will understand that when an officer
has so many men and horses under him
4 HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME
he has his mind full of recruits and

remounts, fodder and farriers and
quarters, so that, even when he is
not in the face of the enemy, life is a

very serious matter for him. But when
he is only a lieutenant or a captain , he

has nothing heavier than his epaulets
upon his shoulders, so that he can clink
his spurs and swing his dolman, drain
his glass and kiss his girl, thinking of
nothing save enjoying a gallant life.
That is the time when he is likely to
have adventures, and so it is most often
to that time that I shall turn in the
stories which I may tell you. So it will
be to -night when I tell you of my visit
to the Castle of Gloom, of the strange
mission of Sublieutenant Duroc, and
of the horrible death of the man who
was once known as Jean Carabin and

afterward as the Baron Straubenthal .
You must know, then , that in the
February of 1807 , immediately after the
taking of Danzig, Major Legendre and
I were commissioned to bring four
hundred remounts from Prussia into

Eastern Poland .
The hard weather, and especially the
great battle at Eylau, had killed so
many of the horses that there was
some danger of our beautiful Tenth
Hussars becoming a battalion of light
infantry. We knew, therefore, both
the major and I , that we would be very
welcome at the front. We did not
advance very rapidly, however, for the
snow was deep, the roads detestable,
and we had but twenty returning inva-
lids to assist us. Besides, it is impos-
sible when you have a daily change of

forage, and sometimes none at all, to
move horses faster than a walk. I am
aware that in the story books the cav-
alry whirls past at the maddest of
gallops, but for my own part, after
twelve campaigns , I should be very
satisfied to know that my brigade
could always walk upon the march and

trot in the presence of the enemy.
This I say of the hussars and chas-
seurs, mark you , so that it is far

more the case with cuirassiers and
dragoons.
For myself, I am fond of horses, and
to have four hundred of them, of every
age and shade and character, all under

my own hands, was a very great pleas-
ure to me. They were from Pome-
rania for the most part, though some
were from Normandy, and some from
Alsace ; and it amused us to notice
that they differed in character as much
as the people of the provinces. We
observed also what I have often proved
since , that the nature of a horse can be
told by his color, from the coquettish
light bay, full of fancies and nerves, to
the hardy chestnut, and from the docile
roan to the pig-headed, rusty black,
All this has nothing in the world to do
with my story, but how is an officer of
cavalry to get on with his tale when he
finds four hundred horses waiting for
him at the outset ? It is my habit, you
see, to talk of that which interests my-
self, and so I have hopes that I may

interest you .
We crossed the Vistula opposite

Marienwerder, and had got as far as
Riesenberg when Major Legendre
came into my room in the posthouse
with an open paper in his hand.
" You are to leave me, " said he, with
despair upon his face.
It was no very great grief for me to
do that, for he was, if I may say so,
hardly worthy to have such a subaltern.
I saluted, however, in silence.
" It is an order from General La-
salle, " he continued. "You are to
proceed to Rossel instantly, and to re-

port yourself at the headquarters of
the regiment ."
No message could have pleased
me better. I was already very well
thought of by my superior officers, al-
though I may say that none of them
had quite done me justice. It was evi-
dent to me, therefore, that this sudden
order meant that the regiment was
about to see service once more, and

that Lasalle understood how incom-
plete my squadron would be without
me. It is true that it came at an
inconvenient moment, for the keeper
of the posthouse had a daughter- one
of those ivory-skinned, black-haired
Polish girls- whom I had hoped to
have some further talk with. Still it
is not for the pawn to argue when the

fingers of the player move him from
the square, so down I went, saddled
my big black charger Rataplan , and
set off instantly upon my lonely
journey.
My word ! it was a treat for those
poor Poles and Jews who have so
little to brighten their dull lives, to
see such a picture as that before their
doors . The frosty morning air made
Rataplan's great black limbs and the
beautiful curves of his back and sides
gleam and shimmer with every gambol.

As for me, the rattle of hoofs upon a
road, and the jingle of bridle chains
which comes with every toss of a saucy

head, would even now set my blood
dancing through my veins. You may
think, then, how I carried myself in
my five-and-twentieth year, I , Etienne
Gerard, the picked horseman and
surest blade in the ten regiments of
hussars. Blue was our color in the
Tenth -a sky-blue dolman and pelisse

with a scarlet front ; and it was said of
us in the army that we could set a
whole population running-the women
toward us and the men away. There
were bright eyes in the Riesenberg
windows that morning which seemed
to beg me to tarry, but what can a sol-
dier do save to kiss his hand and shake
his bridle as he rides upon his way?
It was a bleak season to ride through
the poorest and ugliest country in Eu-
rope, but there was a cloudless sky
above and a bright, cold sun which
shimmered on the huge snowfields.
My breath reeked into the frosty air
and Rataplan sent up two feathers of
steam from his nostrils, while the icicles

dropped from the side irons of his bit.
I let him trot to warm his limbs, while
for my own part I had too much to
think of to give much heed to the cold .
To north and south stretched the great
plains, mottled over with dark clumps

of fir and lighter patches of larch . A
few cottages peeped out here and there,
but it was only three months since the
grand army had passed that way, and
you know what that means to a coun-
try. The Poles were our friends, it is
true, but out of a hundred thousand
only the guard had wagons, and the

rest had to live as best they might. It
did not surprise me, therefore, to see
no signs of cattle and no smoke from
the silent houses. A weal had been
left across the country where the great
host had passed , and it was said that
even the rats were starved wherever
the Emperor had led his men.

TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM. II
CHAPTER II.
By midday I had got as far as the

village of Saalfeldt, but as I was on
the direct road for Osterode , where the
Emperor was wintering, and also for
the main camp of the seven divisions.
of infantry, the highway was choked
.
with carriages and carts. What with
artillery caissons, and wagons, and

couriers and the ever-thickening
stream of recruits and stragglers, it

seemed to me that it would be a
very long time before I should join my

comrades. The plains, however, were
five feet deep in snow, so there was
nothing for it but to plod upon our
way. It was with joy , therefore, that
I found a second road which branched
away from the other, trending through

a fir wood toward the north. There
was a small auberge at the cross

roads , and a patrol of the Third
Hussars of Conflans-the very regi-
ment of which I was afterward colonel

--were mounting their horses at the
door. On the steps stood their
officer, a slight, pale young man, who

looked more like a young priest from
a seminary than a leader of the devil-
may-care rascals before him.
" Good-day, sir," said he, seeing

that I pulled up my horse.
" Good-day, " I answered. "I am
Lieutenant Etienne Gerard of the
Tenth. "
I could see by his face that he had
heard of me. Everybody had heard
of me since my duel with the six fenc-
ing masters. My manner, however,
served to put him at his ease with me.
" I am Sublieutenant Duroc of the
Third," said he.
66
Newly joined ? " I asked.
" Last week."
I had thought as much from his
white face and from the way in which
he let men lounge upon their horses.
It was not so long, however, since I
TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM. 13.
had learned myself what it is like when

a schoolboy has to give orders to
veteran troopers. It made me blush ,
I remember, to shout abrupt com-
mands to men who had seen more
battles than I had years, and it should

have come more natural for me to say :
" With your permission we will now

wheel into line, " or, " If you think it
best, we shall trot. " I did not think
the less of the lad, therefore, when I
observed that his men were somewhat
out of hand , but I gave them a glance

which stiffened them in their saddles.
66
May I ask, monsieur, whether you
are going by this northern road ? " I
asked.
" My orders are to patrol it as far as

Arensdorf," said he.
" Then I will , with your permission,
ride so far with you , " said I. " It is
very clear, and the longer way will be
the faster."
So it proved, for this road led away

from the army into a country which
was given over to Cossacks and ma-

rauders, and it was as bare as the other
was crowded. Duroc and I rode in
front, with our six troopers clattering

along in the rear. He was a good
boy, this Duroc, with his head full of
the nonsense that they teach at St.
Cyr, knowing more about Alexander
and Pompey than how to mix a horse's
fodder or care for a horse's feet. Still
he was, as I have said, a good boy, un-

spoiled as yet by the camp . It pleased
me to hear him prattle away about his
sister Marie and about his mother in
Amiens. Presently we found ourselves

at the village of Hayenah. Duroc rode
up to the posthouse and asked to see
the master.
" Can you tell me," said he, " whether
a man who calls himself Baron Straub-
enthal lives in these parts ? "
The postmaster shook his head and
we rode upon our way.
I took no notice of this, but when at
the next village my comrade repeated

the same question , with the same re-

sult, I could not help asking him who
this Baron Straubenthal might be.
" He is a man," said Duroc, with a
sudden flush upon his boyish face, " to
whom I have a very important mes-
sage to convey."
Well, this was not satisfactory, but
there was something in my companion's
manner which told me that any further
questioning would be distasteful to
him. I said nothing more, therefore,
but Duroc would still ask every peas-
ant whom we met whether he could
give him any news of the Baron
Straubenthal.
For my own part I was endeavoring,

as an officer of light cavalry should , to
form an idea of the lay of the country,
to note the course of the streams and
to mark the places where there should

be fords. Every step was taking us
further from the camp, round the flanks
of which we were traveling. Far to
the south a few plumes of gray smoke
in the frosty air marked the position of

some of our outposts. To the north ,
however, there was nothing between

ourselves and the Russian winter
quarters. Twice on the extreme hori-
zon I caught a glimpse of a glitter of

steel, and pointed it out to my com-
panion. It was too distant for us to
tell whence it came, but we had little
doubt that it was from the lanceheads
of marauding Cossacks.
The sun was just setting when we
rode over a low hill and saw a small
village upon our right and on our left
a considerable castle, which jutted out
from among the pine woods.
A farmer with his cart was approach-
ing us a matted-haired , downcast fel-
low in a sheepskin jacket.
"What village is this ? " asked
Duroc.
" It is Arensdorf," he answered, in
his barbarous German dialect .
" Then here I am to stay the night,"
said my young companion. Then
TO THE Castle of GLOOM. 17
turning to the farmer, he asked his

eternal question : " Can you tell me
where the Baron Straubenthal lives ?"
66
Why, it is he who owns the Castle of
Gloom ," said the farmer, pointing to the
dark turrets over the distant fir forest.
Duroc gave a shout like the sports-

man who sees his game rising in front
of him . The lad seemed to have gone
off his head- his eyes shining, his face
deathly white, and such a grim set
about his mouth as made the farmer
shrink away from him. I can see him

.
now, leaning forward on his brown
horse with his eager gaze fixed upon
the great, black tower.
"Why do you call it the Castle of
Gloom ? " I asked .
" Well, it is the name it bears upon
the countryside , " said the farmer. " By
all accounts, there have been some
black doings up yonder. It's not for

nothing that the wickedest man in
Poland has been living there these
fourteen years past."
" A Polish nobleman ? " I asked.

66
Nay, we breed no such men in
Poland," he answered.
" A Frenchman, then ," cried Duroc .
"They say that he came
. from
France."
" And with red hair ?"
"As red as a fox."
" Yes, yes, it is my man ! " cried my
companion, quivering all over in his
excitement. " It is the hand of Provi-
dence which has led me here. Who
can say that there is not justice in this
world ! Come, M. Gerard, for I must
see the men safely quartered before I
can attend to this private matter."
He spurred on his horse, and ten min-
utes later we were at the door of the
inn at Arensdorf, where his men were
to find their quarters for the night.
Well, this was no affair of mine , and
I could not imagine what the meaning
of it might be. Rossel was still far off,
but I determined to ride on for a few
hours, and take my chance of finding
some wayside barn in which I could

.
find shelter for Rataplan and myself.
I had mounted my horse, therefore,
after tossing off a cup of wine, when
young Duroc came running out of the
door and laid his hand upon my knee.
" M. Gerard," he panted, " I beg of
you not to abandon me like this. "
66
My good sir," said I , " if you would
tell me what is the matter and what
you would wish me to do, I should be
better able to tell you if I could be of
any assistance to you ."
"You can be of the very greatest ,"
he cried. " Indeed , from all that I
have heard of you , M. Gerard, you are
the one man whom I should wish to
have by my side to-night."

" You forget that I am riding to join
my regiment. "
" You cannot in any case reach it to-
night. To-morrow will bring you to
Rossel. By staying with me you will
confer the greatest kindness upon me,
and you will aid me in a matter which
concerns my own honor and the honor

of my family. I am compelled, how-
ever, to confess to you that some
personal danger may possibly be in-
volved. "
It was a crafty thing for him to say.

Of course I sprang from Rataplan's
back and ordered the groom to lead
him back to the stables.
" Come into the inn, " said I , “ and
let me know exactly what it is that you
wish me to do ."
He led the way into a sitting room
and fastened the door lest we should
be interrupted . He was a well-grown

lad, and as he stood in the glare of the
lamp with the light beating upon his
earnest face, and upon his uniform of
silver gray, which suited him to a
marvel, I felt my heart warm toward
him. Without going so far as to say
that he carried himself as I had done
at his age, there was at least similarity

enough to make me feel sympathy with
him.
" I can explain it all in a few words,"

said he. " If I have not already satis-
fied your very natural curiosity, it is

because the subject is so painful a one
that I can hardly bring myself to allude
to it. I cannot, however, ask for your
assistance without explaining to you
exactly how the matter lies.
" You must know, then, that my
father was the well-known banker,
Christopher Duroc, who was murdered
by the people during the September
massacres. As you are aware , the mob
took possession of the prisons , chose

three so-called judges to pass sentence
upon the unhappy aristocrats, and then
tore them to pieces when they were
passed out into the street. My father
had been a benefactor of the poor all
his life. There were many to plead
for him. He had the fever, too , and
was carried in half dead upon a blanket.
Two of the judges were in favor of
acquitting him. The third, a young
Jacobin, whose huge body and brutal
mind had made him a leader among
the wretches, dragged him with his

own hands from the litter, kicked him
again and again with his heavy boots,
and hurled him out of the doors , where
in an instant he was torn limb from
limb under circumstances which are
too horrible for me to describe. This,
as you perceive, was murder even
under their own unlawful laws, for two
of their own judges had pronounced in
my father's favor.
""
'Well, when the days of order came
back again, my elder brother began
I
to make inquiries about this man .
was only a child then , but it was a
family matter, and it was discussed
in my presence. The fellow's name
was Carabin . He was one of San-
terre's Guard, and a noted duelist.
A foreign lady named the Baroness.
Straubenthal having been dragged be-
fore the Jacobins, he had gained her
liberty for her on the promise that she,
with her money and estates, should be
his. He had married her, taken her

name and title, and escaped out of
France at the time of the fall of Robes-
pierre. What had become of him we

had no means of learning.
"You will think, doubtless, that it
would be very easy for us to find him,
since we had both his name and title.
You must remember, however, that the
revolution left us without money, and
that without money such a search is

very difficult. Then came the Empire,
and it became more difficult still ; for,
as you are aware, the Emperor con-
sidered that the Eighteenth Brumaire
brought all accounts to a settlement,
and on that day a veil had to be drawn
across the past. None the less we
kept our own family story and our

own family plans.
My brother joined the army and
passed with it through all southern
Europe, asking everywhere for the
Baron Straubenthal. Last October he
was killed at Jena with his mission still
unfulfilled . Then it became my turn,
and I have the good fortune to hear of

the very man of whom I am in search .
at one of the first Polish villages which

I have to visit and within a fortnight
of joining my regiment. And then, to

make the matter even better, I find
myself in company of one whose name
is never mentioned throughout the
army save in connection with some
generous and daring deed ."
CHAPTER III.
THIS was all very well, and I lis-

tened with the greatest interest, but I
was none the clearer as to what young
Duroc wished me to do.
" How can I be of service to you ? "

I asked .
" By coming up with me."

" To the castle ? "
44
Precisely. "
"When ?"
" At once."
" But what do you intend to do ? ”

" I shall know what to do. But I
wish you to be with me all the same."

Well , it never was in my nature to
refuse an adventure , and, besides, I
had every sympathy with the lad's feel-
ings. It is very easy to forgive one's
enemies, but one wishes to give them
something to forgive also. I held out
my hand to him , therefore.
" I must be on my way to Rossel to-

morrow morning, but to-night I am
yours," said I.
We left our troopers in snug quar-
ters, and, as it was but a mile to the
castle, we did not disturb the horses.
To tell the truth, I hate to see a caval-
ryman walk, and I hold that just as he
is the most gallant thing upon earth
when he has his saddle flaps between
his knees, so he is the most clumsy
when he has to loop up his saber, and
his sabertasche in one hand, and turn
in his toes for fear of catching the
rowels of his spurs. Still, Duroc and

I were of an age when one can carry
things off ; and I dare swear that no
woman at least would have quarreled
with the appearance of the two young
hussars, one in blue, and one in gray,
who set out that night from the Arens-
dorf posthouse. We both carried our
swords, and for my own part I slipped
a pistol from my holster into the inside
of my pelisse, for it seemed to me that
there might be some wild work for us.
The track which led to the castle
wound through a pitch-black firwood,

where one could see nothing save the
ragged patch of stars above our heads.
Presently, however, it opened up, and
there was the castle right in front of
us about as far as a carbine would
carry. It was a huge, black place, and

bore every mark of being exceedingly
old, with turrets at every corner, and
a square keep on the side which was
nearest to us. In all its great shadow
there was no sign of light save for a
single window, and no sound came
from it. To me there was something

awful in its size and its silence which
corresponded so well with its sinister
name. My companion pressed on
eagerly, and I followed him along the

ill-kept path which led to the gate.
There was no bell or knocker upon
the great iron-studded door, and it was
only by pounding with the hilts of our
sabers that we could at last attract at-
tention . A thin, pale-faced man with
a beard up to his temples opened it at
last. He carried a lantern in one
hand, and with the other a chain which
held an enormous black hound. His
manner at the first moment was threat-
ening, but the sight of our uniforms

and of our faces turned it into one of
sulky reserve.
"The Baron Straubenthal does not
receive visitors at so late an hour," said
he, speaking in very excellent French .
" You can inform Baron Strauben-
thal that I have come eight hundred

leagues to see him, and that I will not

leave until I have done so , " said my
companion. I could not myself have
said it with a better voice and manner.
The fellow took a sidelong look at
us and tugged at his long black beard
in his perplexity.
" To tell the truth, gentlemen ," said
he, "the baron has a cup or two of
wine in him at this hour, and you
would certainly find him a more enter-
taining companion if you were to come
again in the morning. "
He had opened the door a little
wider as he spoke, and I saw, by the
light of the lamp in the hall behind
him , that three other rough fellows
were standing there, one of whom held
another of these monstrous hounds.
Duroc must have seen it also , but it
made no difference to his resolution.
" Enough talk, " said he, pushing the

man to one side. "It is with your
master that I have to deal. "
The fellows in the hall made way for
him as he strode in among them, so

great is the power of one man who
knows what he wants over several who
are not sure of themselves. My com-

panion tapped one of them on the
shoulder with as much assurance as
though he owned him .

" Show me to the baron, " said he.
The man shrugged his shoulders
and answered something
Polish. in
The fellow with the beard, who had
shut and barred the front door, ap-
peared to be the only one among them
who could speak French.
"Well, you shall have your way,"
Isaid he, with a sinister smile. " You
shall see the baron. And perhaps,
before you have finished, you will wish
that you had taken my advice."
We followed him down the hall,
which was stone-flagged and very spa-
cious, with skins scattered upon the
floor and heads of wild beasts upon
the walls. At the further end he
threw open a door, and we entered.
It was a small room, scantily fur-

nished, with the same marks of neglect
and decay which met us at every turn .
The walls were hung with discolored
tapestry, which had come loose at one
corner, so as to expose the rough
stone wall behind. A second door,
hung with a curtain , faced us upon the
other side. Between lay a square
table strewn with dirty dishes and the

sordid remains of a meal. Several
bottles were scattered over it. At the
head of it, facing us, there sat a huge
man with a lion-like head and a great
shock of orange- colored hair. His
beard was of the same glaring hue ,

matted and tangled and coarse as a
horse's mane. I have seen some
strange faces in my time, but never
one more brutal than that, with its
small eyes, its white, crumpled cheeks,
and the thick, hanging lip which pro-
truded over his monstrous beard. His
head swayed about on his shoulders ,
and he looked at us with the vague,
dim gaze of a drunken man. Yet he

was not so drunk but that our uniforms
carried their message to him.
" Well, my brave boys," he hic-
coughed, "what is the latest news
from Paris-eh ? You're going to free
Poland, I hear, and have meantime all
become slaves yourselves, slaves to the
little autocrat with his gray coat and
three-cornered hat. No more citizens,
either, I am told, and nothing but

monsieur and madame. My faith,
some more heads will have to roll into
the sawdust basket some of these
mornings."
Duroc advanced in silence and stood
by the ruffian's side.

"Jean Carabin ! " said he.
The baron started, and the film of
drunkenness seemed to be clearing
from his eyes.
"Jean Carabin ! " said Duroc once

more.
He sat up and grasped the arms of

his chair.
"What do you mean by repeating

that name, young man ? " he asked .
"Jean Carabin , you are a man whom
I have long wished to meet. "
""
Supposing that I had once such a
name, how can it concern you, since
you must have been a child when I
bore it ? "
66
My name is Duroc. "
" Not the son of "
" The son of the man you mur-
dered."
The baron tried to laugh, but there

was terror in his eyes.
"We must let by-gones be by-gones,
young man," he cried. " It was our
life or theirs in those days, the aristo-
crats or the people. Your father was
of the Gironde. He fell. I was of
the Mountain. Most of my comrades.
fell. It was all the fortune of war.
We must forget all this and learn to
know each other better, you and I. "
He held out a red, twitching hand as
he spoke .
" Enough ! " cried young Duroc.

" If I were to pass my saber through
you as you sit in that chair , I should do
what is right and just. I dishonor my

blade by crossing it with yours. And
yet you are a Frenchman , and have
even held a commission under the
same flag as myself. Rise, then, and
defend yourself !"
"Tut, tut ! " cried the baron. " It is
"9
all very well for you young bloods-
Duroc's patience could stand it no
more. He swung his open hand into
the great orange beard. I saw a lip
fringed with blood, and two glaring
blue eyes above it.
" You shall die for that blow !"
"That is better," said Duroc.
" My saber ! " cried the other. "I
will not keep you waiting, I promise

you ! " and he hurried from the room.
CHAPTER IV.
I HAVE said that there was a second

door covered with a curtain. Hardly
had the baron vanished than there ran
from behind it a woman, young and
beautiful. So swiftly and noiselessly
did she move that she was between us
in an instant, and it was only the shak-

ing curtains which told us whence she
had come.
"I have seen it all," she cried.
66
Oh, sir ! you have carried yourself
splendidly. " She stooped to my com-
panion's hand and kissed it again and
again ere he could disengage it from
her grasp .
"" Nay, madame, why should you kiss
my hand ?" he cried.

"Because it is the hand which struck
him on the vile, lying mouth. Because

it may be the hand which will avenge
my mother. I am his stepdaughter.
The woman whose heart he broke was
my mother. I loathe him. I fear him.
Ah, there is his step ! " In an instant

she had vanished as suddenly as she had
come.
A moment later the baron entered
with a drawn sword in his hand and the
fellow who had admitted us at his heels.
" This is my secretary," said he. " He

will be my friend in this affair. But we
shall need more elbow room than we can
find here. Perhaps you will kindly come

with me to a more spacious apartment. "
It was evidently impossible to fight
in a chamber which was blocked by a
great table. We followed him out,
therefore, into the dimly lit hall. At
the further end a light was shining
through an open door.
"We shall find what we want in here ,"
said the man with the dark beard.
It was a large, empty room, with rows

of barrels and cases around the walls.
A strong lamp stood upon a shelf in the
corner. The floor was level and true,
so that no swordsman could ask for
more. Duroc drew his saber and sprang

into it. The baron stood back with a
bow and motioned me to follow my
companion. Hardly were my heels over
the threshold when the heavy door
crashed behind me and the key screamed
in the lock. We were taken in a trap.
For a moment we could not realize
it. Such incredible baseness was out-
side of all our experience. Then as we

understood how foolish we had been to
trust for an instant a man with such a
history, a flush of rage came over us-
rage against his villainy and against our
own stupidity. We rushed at the door
together, beating it with our fists and
kicking it with our heavy boots. The
sound of our blows and of our execra-
tions must have resounded through the
castle. We called to this villain , hurl-
ing at him every name which might
pierce even into his hardened soul. But
the door was enormous -such a door as
one finds in medieval castles --made of
huge beams clamped together with

irons. It was as easy to break as a

square ofthe Old Guard. And our cries
appeared to be of as little avail as our
blows, as they only brought for answer
the clattering echoes from the high roof
above us. When you have done some
soldiering you soon learn to put up with

what cannot be altered . It was I , then,
who first recovered my calmness and
prevailed upon Duroc to join with me
.
in examining the apartment which had
become our dungeon .
There was only one window, which

had no glass in it, and was so narrow
that one could not so much as get one's
head through. It was high up, and
Duroc had to stand up on a barrel in
order to see from it.
" Firwoods and an avenue of snow
between them," said he. " Ah ! " He
gave a cry of surprise.
I sprang upon the barrel beside him.
There was, as he said , a long, clear strip
of snow in front. A man was riding
down it, flogging his horse and gallop-
ing like a madman. As we watched he

grew smaller and smaller until he was
swallowed up by the black shadows of

the forest.
"What does that mean ? " asked
Duroc.
" No good for us," said I. " He may

have gone for some brigands to cut
our throats. Let us see if we cannot find
a way out of this mouse trap before the
cat can arrive . "
The one piece of good fortune in our

favor was that beautiful lamp. It was
nearly full of oil and would last us until
morning. In the dark our situation.
would have been much more difficult.
By its light we proceeded to examine
the packages and cases which lined the
walls. In some places there was only a
single line of them, while in one corner
they were piled nearly to the ceiling.
It seemed that we were in the store-
house of the castle , for there was a great
number of cheeses, vegetables of vari-

ous kinds, bins full of dried fruits, and a
line of wine barrels. One of these had
a spigot in it, and as I had eaten little

during the day I was glad of a cup of
claret and some food . As to Duroc, he
would take nothing, but passed up and
down the room in a fever of anger and
impatience. " I'll have him yet ," he
cried, every now and then. " The ras-
cal shall not escape me." This was all

very well, but it seemed to me, as I sat
on a great round cheese eating my sup-
per, that this youngster was thinking
rather too much of his family affairs and
too little of the fine scrape into which he
had got me. After all, his father had
been dead fourteen years, and nothing
could set that right, but there was
Etienne Gerard, the most dashing lieu-
tenant in the whole Grand Army, in
imminent danger of being cut off at the
very outset of his brilliant career. Who
was ever to know the heights to which
I might have risen if I were knocked in
the head in this hole-and-corner busi-
ness, which had nothing whatever to do
with France or the Emperor ? I could

not help thinking what a fool I had been
when I had a fine war before me, and
everything which a man could desire,
to go off on a hair-brained expedition
of this sort, as if it were not enough to
have a quarter of a million Russians to
fight against without plunging into all
sorts of private quarrels as well.
" That is all very well, " I said at last,
as I heard Duroc muttering his threats.
" You may do what you like to him
when you get the upper hand. At
present the question rather is what is
he going to do with us ?"
" Let him do his worst ! " cried the
boy. " I owe a duty to my father."
" That is mere foolishness, " said I.
"If you owe a duty to your father I
owe one to my mother, which is to get
out of this business safe and sound."
My remarks brought him to his

senses.
" I have thought too much of my-
self ! " he cried. " Forgive me, M.
TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM 4I
Gerard. Give me your advice as to

what I should do ."
"Well," said I , " it is not for our
health that they have shut us up here
among the cheeses. They mean . to
make an end of us if they can. That
is certain. They hope that no one
knows that we have come here, and
that none will trace us if we remain.
Do your hussars know where you have
gone to ?"
" I said nothing."
" Hum ! It is clear that we cannot
be starved here. They must come to
us if they are to kill us. Behind a
barricade of barrels we could hold our
own against the five rascals whom we
have seen . That is probably why they
have sent that messenger for assist-
ance."
"We must get out before he re-

turns."
" Precisely, if we are to get out at all."

"Could we not burn down this
door ? " he cried.
""
Nothing could be easier, " said I.
" There are several casks of oil in the
corner. My only objection is that we

should ourselves be nicely toasted, like
two little oyster patties."
" Can you not suggest something ? ”

he cried in despair.
99
" Ah, what is that ? '
There had been a low sound at our
little window, and a shadow came be-
tween the stars and ourselves. A
small white hand was stretched into the
lamplight. Something glittered be-

tween the fingers.
' Quick ! quick ! " cried a woman's
voice.
We were on the barrel in an instant.
They have sent for the Cossacks.
Your lives are at stake. Oh, I am lost !
I am lost ! "
There was a sound of rushing steps,
a hoarse oath, a blow, and the stars
were once more twinkling through the
window. We stood helpless upon our
barrel, with our blood cold with horror.
Half a minute afterward we heard a
smothered scream ending in a choke.

A great door slammed somewhere in
the silent night.
CHAPTER V.
" THESE ruffians have seized her.

They will kill her ! " I cried.
Duroc sprang down with the inartic-
ulate shouts of one whose reason had
left him. He struck the door so fran-
tically with his naked hand that he left
a blotch of blood with every blow.
" Here is the key," I shouted, pick-
ing one from the floor. " She must
have thrown it in at the instant that
she was torn away. "
My companion snatched it from me
with a shriek of joy. A moment later
he dashed it down on the boards. It
was so small that it was lost in the
enormous lock. Duroc sank upon one
of the boxes with his head between his
hands. He sobbed in his despair. I

could have sobbed, too , when I thought
of the woman and how helpless we
were to save her.
But I am not so easily baffled .
After all, this key must have been sent

to us for a purpose . The lady could
not bring us that of the door, because
this murderous stepfather of hers would
most certainly have it in his pocket .
Yet this other key must have a
meaning , or why should she risk her
life to place it in our hands . It would
say little for our wits if we could not
find out what that meaning might be.
.
I set to work moving all the cases
out from the wall, and Duroc, gaining
new hope from my energy, helped me
with all his strength . It was no light
task, for many of them were large and

heavy. On we went, working like
maniacs, slinging barrels and cheeses
and boxes pell-mell into the middle of
the room . At last there only remained
one huge barrel of vodki, which stood
in the corner. With Our united
strength we rolled it out, and there was

a little, low wooden door in the wain-
scot behind it. The key fitted, and
with a cry of delight we saw it swing
open before us. With the lamp in my
hand I squeezed my way in, followed

by my companion.
We were in the powder magazine of
the castle-a rough-walled cellar, with
barrels all around it, and one with the
top staved in in the center. The
powder from it lay in a black heap on
the floor. Beyond there was another
door, but it was locked.
"We are no better off than before, ”
cried Duroc. " We have no key."
66
We have a dozen, " I cried.
"Where ?"
I pointed to the line of powder

barrels.
" You would blow this door open ?'
" Precisely.
" But you would explode the maga
zine."
R
GA DIE
OW ME
46 H THE BRI CA
It was true, but I was not at the end

of my resources.
"We shall blow open the storeroom

door," I cried.
I ran back and seized a tin box
which had been filled with candles. It
was about the size of my busby- large
enough to hold several pounds of
powder. Duroc filled it while I cut
off the end of a candle. When we had
finished it would have puzzled a colonel
of engineers to make a better petard.
I put three cheeses on top of each
other and placed it above them so as
to lean against the lock. Then we lit
our candle end and ran for shelter,
shutting the door of the magazine
behind us.
It was no joke, my friends, to lie

among all those tons of powder, with
the knowledge that if the flame of the
explosion should penetrate through one
thin door our blackened limbs would
be shot higher than the castle keep.
Who could have believed that a half-
inch of candle could take so long to

burn ? My ears were straining all the
time for the thudding of the hoofs of
the Cossacks who were coming to de-
stroy us. I had almost made up my
mind that the candle must have gone
out when there was a smack like a
bursting bomb. Our door flew to bits,
and pieces of cheese with a shower of
turnips, apples, and splinters of cases
were shot in among us. As we rushed
out we had to stagger through an im-

penetrable smoke, with all sorts of
débris beneath our feet, but there was
a glimmering square where the dark
door had been. The petard had done
its work.
In fact, it had done more for us than
we had ventured to hope. It had
shattered jailers as well as jail. The
first thing that I saw as I came out was
a man with a butcher's ax in his hand,
lying flat on his back with a gaping

wound across his forehead. The sec-
ond was a huge dog with two of its
legs broken, twisting in agony upon the

floor. As it reared itself I saw the
broken ends flapping like flails. At
the same instant I heard a cry, and
there was Duroc thrown against the
wall with the other hound's teeth in his
throat. He pushed it off with his left
hand, while again and again he passed

his saber through its body, but it was
not until I blew out its brains with my
pistol that the iron jaws relaxed and
the fierce bloodshot eyes were glazed
in death .
There was no time for us to pause.
A woman's scream from in front - a
scream of mortal terror told us that
even now we might be too late !

There were two other men in the
hall, but they cowered away from our

drawn swords and furious faces .
The blood was streaming from Du-

roc's neck and dyeing the gray fur of
his pelisse. Such was the lad's fire ,
however, that he shot in front of me ,
and it was only over his shoulder that
I caught a glimpse of the scene as we

rushed into the chamber in which we
had first seen the master of the Castle
of Gloom.
The baron was standing in the mid-

dle of the room , with his tangled mane
bristling like an angry lion's. He was,
as I have said, a huge man , with enor-
mous shoulders ; and as he stood there
with his face flushed with rage and his
sword advanced, I could not but think
that in spite of all his villainies he had
a proper figure for a grenadier. The
lady lay cowering in a chair behind
him. A weal across one of her white
arms and a dog whip upon the floor

were enough to show that our escape
had hardly been in time to save her
from his brutality. He gave a howl
like a wolf as we broke in, and was
upon us in an instant, hacking and

driving, with a curse at every blow.
I have already said that the room
gave no space for swordsmanship. My
young companion was in front of me
in the narrow passage between the

table and the wall , so that I could only
look on without being able to aid him.
The lad knew something of his weapon ,
and was as fierce and active as a wild-
cat, but in such narrow space the
weight and strength of the giant gave
him the advantage. Besides, he was an
admirable swordsman. His parade and
riposte were as quick as lightning.
Twice he touched Duroc upon the
shoulder, and then, as the lad slipped
on a lunge, he whirled up his sword to
finish him before he could recover his
feet. I was quicker than he, however,

and took the cut upon the pommel of
my saber.
" Excuse me, " said I , “ but you have
still to deal with Etienne Gerard."
He drew back and leaned against
the tapestry-covered wall, breathing in
little hoarse gasps, for his foul living
was against him.
'Take your breath ," said I. " I will
await your convenience. "
"You have no cause of quarrel
against me," he panted .

" I owe you some little attention, "
said I, " for having shut me up in your
storeroom . Besides, if all others were
wanting, I see cause enough upon that
lady's arm ."
" Have your way, then ! " he snarled ,

and leaped at me like a madman. For
a minute I saw only the blazing blue
eyes, and the red glazed point which
stabbed and stabbed, rasping off to
right or to left, and yet ever back at
my throat and my breast. I had never
thought that such good sword play was

to be found at Paris in the days of the
Revolution. I do not suppose that in
all my little affairs I have met six men
who had a better knowledge of their
weapon. But he knew that I was his
master. He read death in my eyes,
and I could read that he read it. The
flush died from his face. His breath
came in shorter and thicker gasps.
Yet he fought on, even after the final
thrust had come , and died still hacking

and cursing with foul cries upon his
lips, and his blood clotting upon his
orange beard. I who speak to you
have seen so many battles that my old

memory can scarce contain their
names, and yet of all the terrible sights

which these eyes have rested upon,
there is none I care to think of less
than that strange beard with the crim-
son stain in the center, from which I
had drawn my sword-point.
It was only afterward that I had
time to think of all this. His mon-
strous body had hardly crashed down
upon the floor before the woman in the
corner sprang to her feet, clapping her
hands together and screaming out in
her delight. For my part I was dis-
gusted to see a woman take delight in
such a deed of blood, and I gave no
thought to the terrible wrongs which

must have befallen her before she could
so far forget the gentleness of her sex.

It was on my tongue to tell her sharply
to be silent when a strange choking

smell took the breath from my nostrils,
and a sudden yellow glare brought out
the figures of the faded hangings.
" Duroc, Duroc ! " I shouted, tugging
at his shoulder. " The castle is on fire."
But the boy lay senseless upon the
ground, exhausted by his wounds. I
rushed out into the hall to see whence
the danger came . It was our explo-
sion which had set a light to the dry
framework of the door. Inside the
storeroom some of the boxes were al-
ready blazing. I glanced in, and as I

did so, my blood was turned to water
by the sight of the powder barrels
beyond, and of the loose heap on the
floor. It might be seconds, it could not
be more than minutes, before the flames
would be at the edge of it. These eyes
will be closed in death, my friends, be-
fore they cease to see those crawling
lines of fire and the black heap beyond.
How little I can remember of what
followed ! Vaguely I can recall how I

rushed into the chamber of death, how

I seized Duroc by one limp hand and
dragged him down the hall, the woman
keeping pace with me and pulling at
the other arm . Out of the gateway
we rushed, and on down the snow-cov-
ered path until we were on the fringe
of the fir forest. It was at that mo-
ment that I heard a crash behind me,
and glancing around saw a great spout
of fire shoot up into the wintry sky.
An instant later there seemed to come
a second crash, far louder than the first,
and I saw the fir trees, and the stars
whirling round me, and I fell uncon-
scious across the body of my comrade.
It was some weeks before I came
to myself in the posthouse of Arens-
dorf, and longer still before I could be
told all that had befallen me. It was
Duroc, already able to go soldiering,

who came to my bedside and gave
me an account of it. He it was who
told me how a piece of timber had

struck me on the head and had laid
me almost dead upon the ground.

From him, too, I learned how the
Polish girl had run to Arensdorf ; how
she had roused our hussars ; and how
she had only just brought them back
in time to save us from the spears of
the Cossacks, who had been sum-
moned from their bivouac by that
same black-hearted secretary whom we
had seen galloping so swiftly over the
snow. As to the brave lady who had
twice saved our lives, I could not
learn very much about her at that
moment from
from Duroc, but when I
chanced to meet him in Paris two
years later, after the campaign of
Wagram, I was not very much sur-
prised to find that I needed no intro-
duction to his bride ; and that by the
queer turns of fortune he had himself,
had he chosen to use it, that very
name and title of the Baron Strauben-
thal, which showed him to be the
owner of the blackened ruins of the
Castle of Gloom.
THAT DAY .
BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
It got beyond all orders an' it got

beyond all ' ope :
It got to shammin' wounded an'
retirin' from the ' alt.
'Ole companies was 'untin' for the
nearest road to slope,
It were just a bloomin' knock- out-
an' our fault.
Now there ain't no chorus ' ere to give,

Nor there ain't no band to play ;
An' I wish I was dead ' fore I done what I did
Or seed what I seed that day !
We knowed too much to suffer- we

was bloomin' cunnin' too-
An' a company commander up an' ' it

us with ' is sword,
56
THAT DAY. 57
An' someone shouted " Ook it ! " an' it
come to Sove-Ki-poo,
An' we chucked our rifles from us-
oh, my Gawd !
There was thirty dead and wounded on

the ground we wouldn't keep-
No, there wasn't more than twenty
when the front begun to go.
But, Gawd ! along the line o ' flight
they cut us up like sheep-
And that was all we gained by doin' so.
I ' eard the knives behind me, but I

dursn't face my man,
Nor I don't know where I went to,
'cause I didn't ' alt to see
Till I'eard a beggar shoutin' out for
quarter as 'e ran ,
An' I thought I knew the voice, an'
-it was me !
We was ' idin' under bedsteads more

than ' arf a march away ;
We was lyin' up like rabbits all
about the countryside ;
58 THAT DAY.
An' the Major cursed ' is Maker ' cause

'e lived to see that day,
An' the Colonel broke ' is sword
acrost an' cried !
We was rotten ' fore we started - we
was never disciplined ,

We made it out a favor if an order
was obeyed.
Yes, every little drummer ' ad ' is rights
and wrongs to mind ;
So we ' ad to pay for teachin '—an'
we paid.
The papers ' id it ' andsome, but you

know the army knows-
We was put to ' erding camels till
the regiments withdrew,
An' they gave us each a medal for sub-
duin' England's foes ,
An ' I ' ope you like my song-
because it's true.
An' there ain't no chorus ' ere to give ,

Nor there ain't no band to play,
An' I wish I was dead ' fore I done what I did
Or seed what I seed that day!
THE VETERAN . *
(A Drama of the Street.)
BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS WARD.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ :
HENRY HOLT , a blind veteran of the Civil War.

MARIA HOLT, his wife.
MOLLY, their daughter ; a child.
A LADY, name unknown .
People in the street.
TIME -The afternoon of a bleak December day.
SCENE-The main shopping thoroughfare of an
American city. A crowd block the sidewalk in
front of a large dry goods store in whose windows
glitters a splendid holiday display. A wax dummy
enveloped in brocade and ermine confronts another in
evening dress of white satin and rose chiffon . Gor-
geous fabrics of silk and velvet drape the sides of the
window. These are all akin in tint ; the colors of the
window resemble a cluster of roses, shading from
bride to blush and jacqueminot. In the rear is seen
the interior of a luxuriously appointed little room ; it
is labeled " A boudoir," and is arranged to adver-
tise the prevailing fashions in furniture and upholstery.
The room is furnished in rose and silver. Its dress-
* Copyright, 1894, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.
59
60 THE VETERAN.
ing table is covered with the elegant conveniences ofa

lady's toilet, costly in value and dainty in design. Tall
candles of pink wax burn in silver sconces at the sides
of the long mirror. The draperies of rich lace are
carefully looped back from the glass , to avoid contact
with the flaming candles. The mirror reflects the
street.
A lady, plainly dressed in black, is trying to push
her way through the crowd, but is blockaded by the
women who are studying the show window. She casts
a quick glance between the ermine and the chiffon
dummies, across the splendors of the rose and silver
decorations. Her eyes rest upon the mirror, and an
expression of trouble crosses her countenance . In the
glass she perceives the reflection of two wretched fig-
ures. These are a man and a woman . They stand
upon the curbstone, huddling together ; the woman
holds the man's arm ; both are thinly dressed and are
seen in the mirror-to shiver. The man is pale and
undersized ; he has a consumptive look ; his hands
are cold and blue ; he raises a flute to his lips, then
puts it down, and tries to warm his fingers.
The woman has a delicate face ; she holds out a
cap, somewhat timidly or proudly, as if she shrank
from the act. Now and then a passer drops a nickel
or a penny into the cap. The woman removes her
other hand from the man's arm, and wraps his fingers
in her shawl to warm them.
THE MAN- Cold , Maria ?

WIFE-Not so very, Henry.
HUSBAND-Tired , girl ?
THE VETERAN. 61
WIFE-Standing hurts me a little.

But I don't mind.
HUSBAND- It is pretty cold. It comes
hard-draggin ' you out. If I could
come by myself ! Oh, Lord, if I could
get about alone !
WIFE- NOW, Henry ! Dear Henry !
Why, you know I don't mind it much.
I like to come along of you. I think it
does me good to get the air. Only the
stormy days— and you aint fit to play
when it storms, yourself. You will have
to give it up this winter, I'm thinking.
HUSBAND- I'll take Molly next time.
You're beat out, Maria. Molly--she
can take me in tow like a little lady.
She's the smartest of the brood , Molly
is. I'd feel bad if we shouldn't make
out a Christmas for ' em, this year,
Maria. Somebody may send a turkey,
but that don't go into little stockin's.
WIFE-If I get another dress to make
over, we can manage. Don't you feel
anxious, Henry ! That fat customer I
had wears out dreadfully on her side
62 THE VETERAN.
seams. I calculate she'll need another
cheap wrapper soon.

HUSBAND (more cheerfully) - Yes.
That's one thing about it. You can
always sew when you can get the job.
And Molly can tend to me. I guess
we'll manage.
WIFE -We always have , dear- most

always.
HUSBAND -That's so , most always.
But we can't afford to talk. Time to talk
is for rich folks. You've warmed my
fingers up nicely in your shawl, girl.
I'll go at it again.
[ The street musician plays :]
" How can I bear to leave thee ?

One parting kiss I'll give thee,
And then what e'er befalls me
I'll go where duty calls me."
[ LADY, blockaded in front of the shop

window, starts and stirs. The musician,
reflected in the mirror, plays on :]
" Farewell, farewell, my own true love

Farewell -fare-well. "
THE VETERAN. 63
[ LADY turns her back on the show

window and urges her way through the
crowd toward the man and the woman.
In the mirror her figure replaces for the

moment those of the street players.
The light of the pink candles is ob-
scured. The dummy in the ermine and
the dummy in rose chiffon exchange
haughty glances over her head. ]
WOMAN IN THE CROWD- Now, there's
an air about that brocade.
SECOND WOMAN- Give me the chif-
fon ! It's the fashionable shade.
FIRST WOMAN- I'll tell my husband

he shan't have any peace till he fits me
up a room like that yonder. He's goin'
to begin with the silver hairbrush ,
come Christmas.
SECOND WOMAN (sighing) But
then the children clutter and muss so !
Do you think it would pay for the

bother ? I'd rather have that real er-
mine opera cloak. It's marked four
hundred dollars.
HENRY HOLT (plays) :
64 THE VETE .
R AN
" In the beauty of the lilies
Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom
That transfigures you and me."
[ LADY, with sighs of emotion, stops

in front of the street musician , and si-
lently observes him. ]

HENRY (plays) :
" Since He died to make men holy,

Let us die to make men free."
LADY (to herself) -I can't stand

this ! I suppose the Conglomerate Anti-
Pauper Mission would disown me for-
ever, but I cannot stand it. (Empties
her purse of its silver into the musi
cian's cap. As she does so, she with-
draws a nickel coin and says apologeti-
cally:) You see I'm a suburban, and I
must keep a car fare to get to the sta-
tion. I'm late to my train now. It's
too bad there is no more. Oh, I'm sorry
for you !
[The lady hurries away. MARIA
HOLT looks after her wistfully as she
THE VETERAN. 65
deftly turns the silver from the cap

into Henry's pocket.
Her eyes fill. HENRY plays and

sings :]
Let us die to make men free !

For God is marching on."
LADY (unexpectedly returning) — -

Never mind my train. I've given it up.
I can't bear this ! I must know some-
thing about you. Why, what's the mat-

ter ? Why, you poor woman ! What
ails you ?
MARIA HOLT (bursting into tears)—

Oh, it's the words you said ! It's the
words you said ! Nobody else, for so
long, and we have had such a hard
pull ! Oh, don't mind me ! Oh, I am
ashamed ! Henry, Henry , I'm ashamed
of myself! I don't know whenever
he's heard me cry before ; have you,
Henry ? But it's the words you said!
LADY (much moved ) -The words I
said ? Oh- that ! Such a little com-
mon human- oh, you poor woman !

66 THE VETERAN.
[ HENRY HOLT puts down his flute.

His pinched face works pathetically.
He rolls his eyes helplessly toward
MARIA. Then, with the most exquisite
motion by which knight or gentleman
could express reverence or tenderness
for woman, the street musician gropes
for the cheek of his wife, and strokes
it with the palm of his blue hand.
A crowd has begun to thicken
around HENRY, MARIA, and the LADY ;

but neither of the three appears aware
of it.
The man caresses his wife as ingenu-

ously as if she and he were alone in
the world. He shows no conscious-
ness of the presence of observers. ]

LADY - Tell me all about it ! Tell
me how it happens. Why are you like
this ? You are Americans-
HENRY (interrupting) -New Eng-

land, born and bred.
LADY-You don't look as if you
ought to be doing this. You look

above begging on the street.
THE VETERAN. 67
440
HENRY-Ma'am ?
MARIA- Oh, madam ! Don't you
see ? Henry, she don't understand .

She didn't mean it. She aint that
kind of lady. Madam !

HENRY--Begging ?
[His face flushes from white to pur-
ple. His flute drops to the pavement.
His wife picks it up and wipes it with

her shawl . She speaks in a crooning
tone.]
MARIA- There, there, dear ! She
don't know. She don't understand.
Madam , my husband is a musician.
He is not a beggar. He works hard
for a living. Try it and see-all
weathers .
[MARIA HOLT raises herself with
dignity, and with a trembling forefinger
points at her husband's eyes. ]
LADY-Blind ?
[ Maria nods silently. ]

LADY (overcome) -I beg your par-
don ! Oh, you poor people ! I beg
your pardon with all my heart.
68 THE VETERAN .
THE STREET MUSICIAN (bowing
with a fine grace) -Madam, you have

it from mine.
LADY-Tell me how it came about-
this great misfortune. Do you mind

telling me ? I will try not to hurt
your feelings so stupidly again.
HENRY HOLT (drawing himself
erect)-Yes, ma'am , I will tell you. It

happened thirty years ago, but it don't
need thirty words to tell it. Seems to
me, ma'am (smiling), if you'll excuse
me, you're the one that don't see, of
us two !
[The street musician lifts his purple

fingers to his sightless eyes, and then,
with a superb gesture, points in silence
to a faded decoration pinned upon his
shrunken breast. It is the badge of
the Grand Army of the Republic.
The crowd about the group has
slowly increased. Silver begins to fall

into the street player's cap . There is
a gap among the women at the show
window.
THE VETERAN. 69
MARIA HOLT looks through this gap.

Her wan eyes raise themselves to the
ermine opera cloak with instinctive
feminine attention ; she glances at the

pink and silver room . The blind
man's pale face turns blankly in the

same direction. To him alone of all
the people before the window its lux-
urious display appeals without arousing
interest. The dummy in ermine and
the dummy in chiffon regard him scorn-
fully. ]
THE FIRST WOMAN IN THE CROWD-
It's a hand organ, I guess. Isn't there
a monkey ? I dote on monkeys .
SECOND WOMAN- It isn't a monkey.
It's only a little man with a flute.
Let's move on to the millinery window.
FIRST WOMAN-Wait ! I've got ten
cents.
SECOND WOMAN-I've spent every
cent I've got in the world on that
ostrich plume and my jet trimmin's.
I've got to borrow of you to get home.
I feel kind of ashamed, too ; seems so
70 THE VETERAN.
mean. Let's move along, and they'll

think we didn't see them.
LADY - Did you lose your eyesight
in the army ?
HENRY HOLT (cheerily playing
"Yankee Doodle." Finishes the strain
conscientiously before he speaks) -Ex-

cuse me, ma'am, it seems to be silver
that's coming in. I know it by the

note it strikes. I want to earn what I
take. I don't beg. I am a musician.
I used to play in bands. I've always

been fond of music. Yes, ma'am. I
lost my eyes in the war-one of ' em.
MARIA HOLT-The other followed,
come five years. That was when we was

first married, so I know. I was young
then, a slip of a girl . It came dread-
ful hard on us.
LADY- IS he quite blind ?

HENRY - I am quite blind. One eye
don't look it, they say, Some folks
think I'm shamming, but they're folks

that don't know anything. I got a
piece of a shell at Antietam .
THE VETERAN. 71
LADY- But the United States does

not leave its blind soldiers to be-play
on the streets -on public sympathy-
for a living. What is your pension ?
HENRY (smiling) -I don't get the
pension for serious disability. What
I get just about pays our rent. It don't
clothe nor feed us. I don't get a blind
man's pension . But we get along

sometimes quite well. It depends.
some on whether my wife can get a
job, and then there's the weather. I
ain't so strong as I was before the war.

I don't stand bad weather. I have
the pneumonia, and that's expensive .

There's a hitch about my pension, you
see. I used to think it would come
around. But we've given up bothering ;
haven't we, Maria ?
MARIA (apathetically) -Yes, it only
rilesyou up and disappoints you.
Nothing comes of it.
LADY-Weren't you honorably dis-
charged ?
VETERAN (proudly) —Madam ?
72 THE VETERAN.
LADY —— Well-of course - but I

mean-
WIFE- It's something about a sur-

geon. He died-
HENRY (recovering himself and smil-

ing)-So he doesn't find it convenient
to testify. His testimony is lacking.
LADY-Ah ! A flaw in your pension
papers ?
VETERAN-That's about the size of
it.
LADY (gently)-Hard !
VETERAN - Well, yes , But we're
kind of used to it. It is hard, though
-sometimes .
LADY- How many children have

you ?
HENRY (eagerly)-There's Molly !
MARIA-And the two little ones.
We had two older boys. They died.
The drainage was bad where we lived.
We tried to save on rent those days.
We don't since.
LADY- Do you make a living ? Do

you suffer ? Have you clothes ? A
THE VETERAN. 73
fire ? Food enough

enou ?
gh ? How many
battles did you serve in ? Now give
me your street and number. I must
look into this matter. How many
battles, did you say ?
VETERAN (putting his flute down

from his mouth and counting on the
stops with his cold fingers) -Fair Oaks,
Malvern Hill, Bull Run , Antietam. It
was at Antietam I got the shell.

LADY -This is pitiful ! It is not
right. The country- patriotic people
ought to do something !
VETERAN ―― Oh, folks are kind
enough. I get a turkey most every
Christmas . Last year we had cran-
berry sauce and fixings .

LADY (sotto voce) —He gives his
youth, his manhood, his health, his
eyesight for his country, and he
gets a turkey and cranberry sauce on
Christmas !
VETERAN - Ma'am, there was thirty-
five thousand of us the last time I in-
quired. I'm only one of the delayed

74 THE VETERAN.
list. Don't take it to heart so. We're

kinder used to it. Some weeks we get
on very well . It depends so much on

the weather.
MAN FROM THE CROWD- How do
you know that he aint one of the
fraudulent claims ? There's been a
good sight more than thirty-five thou-
sand of them.
LADY- I don't know, but I don't be-
lieve it ; and I can look him up.
GENTLEMAN FROM THE CROWD- I'll
spare you the trouble. I know the
man. I'm a neighbor of his, in a way.
I teach in his ward. His children
.
come to my school. I know about the
family. They are honest people. It

is all just as he says .
LADY - I will see you again. You
shall hear from me. I will remember-
and the children ! The holidays are
coming along .
MARIA-Yes. We do mind it when
we can't make Christmas for the chil-
dren. That's the hardest. Now, he
THE VETERAN. 75
talks about Molly. I don't see how I

can let that child go on the street with
him . Her little winter sack's worn to
rags ; it's past mending, and I've cut

over all the flannels I've got. It's no
place for Molly, anyhow, but I ain't
very strong. Madam (she whis
pered)-
LADY -Oh ! (She wrings the wo-
man's hand.)
HENRY (mechanically counting on
the stops of the flute) -Fair Oaks, Mal-
vern Hill, Bull Run, Antietam-
LADY (extending her hand, for

which the street player gropes)-So ,
good-by,now. I shan't forget you.
Your country hasn't forgotten you,

either. I don't believe it !
VETERAN (smiling slightly) -Don't
you, ma'am ?
LADY- Well, I don't blame you for
looking that way !
MARIA-Ma'am , he sings, too. You
ought to hear him sing before you go.
My husband is a born musician. He
76 THE VETERAN.
gives his money's worth. You ought

to know about that.
HENRY (flattered) -Now, madam !

My wife is so foolish about me.
Women are, you know. (Plays and
sings:)
"My country, ' tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty !
Of thee I sing."
[ LADY, with emotion , turns away

from the singer and disappears in the
crowd. ]
TIME-December, a year later.

SCENE The same street, the same shop. The
show window is superbly decorated . Its side and top
are hung with dainty little articles of infants' and
children's wear, all of white, exquisitely trimmed with
costly lace. Holiday gifts for very young children are
scattered among the baby clothes. The rear and
floor of the window are given up to a solemn spec-
tacular effect. There is a grotto ; and a manger
rudely carved in rock. Oxen are chewing their hay
on one side. On the other kneel the three Magi in
gorgeous turbans and draperies ; they present myrrh,
frankincense, and gold. Humble Jewish figures-
a man and a woman, lean over the manger. The
woman is young and fair. In the manger lies a sleep-
ing babe. A powerful electric jet , concealed below,
THE VETERAN. 77
throws a glory upon the face and head of the child..

All the light in the window comes from this jet. A
crowd is collected before the window. The people talk
softly. Rude men and delicate ladies stand side by
side. Not an oath is heard nor a peevish exclamation.
Many people look silently into the window .
The street player comes to his stand upon the curb-
stone. His wife is not beside him.
A little girl leads him by the hand. She is decently
dressed and of a modest appearance. The player
wears a woolen jacket of the kind called cardigan,
beneath his thin coat. He looks less cold than
formerly ; but his face wears an expression of deep
anxiety. He speaks :
HENRY HOLT - Molly, did you say

mother seemed quite bright, when you
went back, after you left me on that
corner to wait for you ? She's been so
long getting up ! It worries me.
MOLLY-As bright as silver, father !
She told me to tell you. She said she
was sure she'd be out again by Christ-
mas. Play something jolly, father !
HENRY (plays and sings) :
' Oh, though the world turn a cold shoulder,

I'll take up my march and I'll fight,
For wife and for home and for children ;
They need me from morning till night.
AN
78 THE VETER .
For wife and for home and for babies ;

They love me from morning to night."
MOLLY-Isn't that a new song ,

father ?
HENRY-Yes, I composed it last

week, after those things came from the
lady. I felt so encouraged. I never
can write poetry when I'm down.
MOLLY-So it's one of your own
poems, father?
HENRY-Yes , it's one of mine .
MOLLY (proudly) -It is a pretty
poem ! Sing it again, father.
HENRY-(sings) :
" Oh, the wife, and the home, and the babies !
I love them from morning till night. "
MOLLY (in an undertone) -Mother

said it was just as well that new baby
died. But she cried when she said so .
HENRY (dully) —Yes, that's the worst

of such things .
MOLLY-But it's been so much
easier, since we had the lady, father.

HENRY - God bless her !
THE VETERAN. 79
MOLLY ( quaintly) —Yes, I should

think he'd enjoy that.
HENRY (plays) :
" God rest ye, merry gentlemen,

Let nothing you dismay,
For Jesus Christ, your Saviour-
MOLLY (interrupting softly)
Father, the people at the window are

turning this way. They're looking at
us. I see through the crowd of ' em.
Oh, father ! There's a baby Christ in
the window !
THE STREET PLAYER (wistfully)—Is
there, Molly ?
MOLLY ( plaintively) —I wish you

could see him , father !
HENRY (slowly turning his blank

eyes toward the window) -It seems as
if I did, Molly.
[ He removes his faded hat, and
bends his uncovered head before the
window. Several men in the crowd,
seeing the action of the blind player,
do the same. ]
80 THE VETERAN.
MOLLY-It's such a pretty little

Jesus, father ! And there's presents
hung round over his head. I wonder
if he'll get any. Do you s'pose the
lady will send us any more come this
Christmas ?
FATHER (beginning to play rest-

lessly)-I guess likely, Molly. But I'd
rather get ' em myself. (He plays
eagerly.)
"
" For Jesus Christ, your Saviour-
MOLLY- Father ! Father ! Look,

look !
HENRY - Molly, be still ! I shan't

earn you a supper if you go on like
this. (Sternly.) I shall lose my repu-
tation as a musician , Molly ! (To him-
self.)She says, look, look ! Lord, if
I could look ! I never see the child
lose her wits so before.
MOLLY-Father, father ! It's the
lady ! Here is the lady !
HENRY HOLT (fretfully) —I wish I
could see her once.
THE VETERAN. 81
[The LADY advances rapidly. The

crowd parts before her. She speaks a
word here and there to right and left,
as she comes through. She looks agi-
tated and happy. Her delicate face
has a beautiful expression. She comes
up to the street player and lays her
hand upon his arm . She speaks :]
LADY- Mr. Holt, don't be too much
disappointed.
HENRY (patiently) -I've lived too
long to be disappointed. That's for
young folks.
LADY- If it shouldn't come out as I
hope-but I do hope. And the sena-
tor says I may hope. In fact he writes
-here is the letter-that he is just as
good as sure.
THE VETERAN (flushing pitifully)
-Oh, you don't mean the pension !
LADY- Yes, I mean the pension-
the full pension. All that belongs to
you that part of what the country
owes to you ; that part of the big,
deep, terrible debt. The letter says he
82 THE VETERAN.
hopes it isn't too late to set a great

wrong right. He hopes before long-
perhaps by New Year's- sooner than
we expected.
THE VETERAN - Oh, my God !
[The soldier weeps upon the street,
before all the people. They crowd
around him. At a sign from the lady
money rains into the cap in MOLLY'S
hand. ]
MOLLY - Father ! It's growing so
heavy I can't hold it. And there's bills
-oh, they'll blow away
A VOICE (from the crowd) -That's

for Christmas' sake !
ANOTHER VOICE-That's for his own
sake !
THE LADY- For honor's sake !
A VOICE- For freedom's sake, and
them blind eyes he gave for it !
THE VETERAN (confusedly) -Fair
Oaks, Bull Run, Malvern Hill,
Antietam .
THE CROWD- For their sakes !
MOLLY- Father ! I cannot hold the
THE VETERAN. 83
cap. It is so heavy it will break

me !
THE LADY - Come, come, Henry !

Give them a song.
THE CROWD- Give us a tune ! Give
us the song !
THE VETERAN (trying to compose
himself)-Ma'am ? Yes . I'll try.
Molly? Here, little girl. Molly ? I

wish your mother was here. Ma'am ?
Yes. I will try again. (Sings :)
" My country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty-
(Chokes and begins once more tremu-

lously :)
""
" My Saviour, ' tis of thee
(He stops and removes his hat again. )

Madam, I've lost my head. I don't
know which is which.
THE LADY (smiling through her

tears)—It doesn't matter. Either will
do .
[The face of the street player falls

into his hands. His bowed figure
84 THE VET .
ERA
N
bends before the lady. With a fine
gesture she steps aside. The crowd
parts. The light from the head and
face of the child in the manger falls in
a broad white ray upon the veteran .
The soldier can be heard sobbing. ]
A VOICE FROM THE CROWD- Lord, I
could cry myself !
THE LADY- Let us pass , good
people, if you please.

MOLLY-Father, father ! What will
mother say ? The lady says she'll lead
you home. May I run on before ? I
only want to stay a minute to see that
cunning little Jesus -there ! Good-by,
little Jesus ! ( Throws a kiss at the
child in the window and runs on.)
[The lady and the veteran follow
slowly, smiling as they go . ]
THE STORY OF BISHOP
JOHNSON .
(With apologies to Dr. Conan Doyle. )
BY JAMES L. FORD.
ONE morning, about three months

after my purchase of the practice of
Dr. Boneset in Mowbray, I was sitting
in my study patiently awaiting the
cholera, scarlet fever, or whatever other
good fortune it might please Provi-
dence to vouchsafe to me , when the
door opened and I saw to my surprise
and delight the familar form of my
friend, Sherlock Holmes, standing on
the threshold.
But although his appearance at such
an unexpected moment was a surprise
to me, I knew instinctively what busi-
ness had brought him up from London
85
86 THE STORY OF BISHOP JOHNSON.
at the very height of the season.

Dearly as Sherlock loved the town, a
criminal mystery to be solved could
always drag him from his beloved
pavements and brick walls to the most
remote corner of the three kingdoms ;
and, as I started forward to greet him,
I could tell by the rapt and eager
expression of his pale face that his
brain was hard at work on some diffi-
cult problem. But the old trait of
quick observation followed by almost

instantaneous reasoning, always one of
the most striking characteristics of this
remarkable man, made itself apparent
in almost the first words that he
uttered .
" I see," he remarked, as he dropped
into an easy-chair, " that you are fall-
ing into sedentary habits, owing to the
exigencies of your profession , which
seems to confine you to the house
nearly all the time ; but a man with a
growing family should not find that
irksome. I may add that, while I
THE STORY OF BISHOP JOHNSON. 87
regard cold water as an excellent thing

in its way, it seems to me that your
wife is an enthusiastic believer in its
""
efficacy as a cleaning element--
" In the name of Heaven ! " I cried ,
amazed at the insight which he had
obtained in such a short space of time
into my habits of life and the domestic
economy of our house, " who told you
that I had a growing family, that my
wife was a believer in cold water, and
that I was leading a sedentary life ? "
" My ears and my eyes," rejoined
Holmes, as he drew his pipe and
tobacco from his pocket. " The
screaming and splashing of water in

your nursery are quite audible from
the road, and as adults are never
washed by main force, except in insti-
tutions devoted to the care of the
criminal and insane classes, I felt justi-
fied in the belief that I was listening to
the ablutions of an infant- one of your
own, it was reasonable to infer. Then
I knew that you were confined to the

house a great deal of the time because

"
I read on your shingle : Office hours
from 7 A. M. till midnight. ' However,
these trifling matters have nothing to
do with the more serious business
which brought me up from town in

such a tremendous hurry. I suppose
"9
you have heard— ”
"Of the mystery at the Palace ?
Yes, the whole town has talked of
nothing else for the past three days ,

and this morning they found that
three more chickens had been taken
during the night, evidently by the

same band of criminals that accom-
plished the previous robbery. The
entire detective force of the country
has been employed on the case from

the very first, and as yet has made
absolutely no progress with it. The
mystery has baffled them at every

point. "
" Good !" exclaimed Sherlock ea-
gerly. " I had read of the case in the
papers, and it was one possessed of
such extraordinary features that I was

on the point of offering my services.
when I received a dispatch from his
lordship, the bishop, begging me to
come up at once and probe the affair
to the bottom. Now I wish you to
put on your hat and coat and accom-
pany me to the Palace. I have a fly
waiting outside."
The bishop was waiting for us in his

library when we arrived, and we pro-
ceeded at once to the scene of the rob-
bery in the rear of the stables.
Sherlock examined the premises with
the greatest care and listened atten-
tively while his lordship gave a detailed
account of the succession of robberies
which had in the course of three con-
secutive nights deprived him of no less

than ten of his choicest birds, leaving
six sedate hens and one serious-minded
rooster the only occupants of the

chicken house.
On returning to the library we were

90 THE STORY OF BISHOP JOHNSON
presented to Bishop Johnson of Ala-

bama, who had come to the Palace a
week before with letters of introduction
to his lordship from some distinguished
American prelate, and had therefore
been entertained as an honored guest ,
in accordance with his lordship's well-

known hospitable habit.
Sherlock, who has the art of making
friends with all sorts of people , engaged
Bishop Johnson of Alabama in conver-

sation about the watermelons of his
native State, a subject with which the

American displayed a wonderful famili-
arity, and which soon changed to a dis-
cussion about the difference between
the ordinary barnyard fowls of America
and England ; the bishop telling us
what I had never known before, that
in his own country, and especially in
the Southern States, of which his native
Alabama is one, the feathered bipeds
seek their night's rest in the tops
of the loftiest trees, whereas in
England he had noticed that they

usually roosted about six feet from the

ground, or, as he expressed it in his
.
soft, drawling voice, " with their legs
just within easy reach."
" And now," said Holmes, turning to
his lordship , who had been listening
rather impatiently to his utterly irrele
vant conversation with the American,
" I will ask your lordship to escort us

through the kitchen garden , for I have
an idea that the chicken thief was
simply a fox or weasel, or some other
animal of predatory habits. "
" Dat's what I done tole him all
along," cried his guest eagerly, as we

bade him good-by.
Once outside Holmes led us to a
sunny spot under the southern wall .
and pointed upward to the window of

one of the guest chambers.
" Listen ! " he exclaimed perempto-
rily, and, as we strained our ears, the

faint sound of a cock crowing reached
us.
" They're probably concealed in a
closet or trunk, " said Sherlock, and

then his lordship's face turned so red
with mortification and anger that we
both of us deemed it prudent to depart
at once .
66
How in the world " I began as he
passed through the gate.
" My dear Watson , nothing was ever
easier. Did you not notice anything
peculiar about Bishop Johnson's face ? "
" I noticed that it was black as the
ace of spades, but are not all American
clergymen black ? "
" Certainly they are," replied Sher-
lock, " every Englishman knows that.
But did you not remark also that Bishop
Johnson had a flat nose, kinky hair,
enormous lips, and shining teeth ; and
also that there were marks of white-
wash on his clothes ? "
I was obliged to confess that these
details had escaped my observation ,
nor could I see what reference they
bore to the matter in hand.
" Did you not hear him say," contin-
ued Holmes, " that he had already

noticed in England the fowls were in
the habit of roosting near the ground ?
Well, why do you suppose the chickens
perch on the tree-tops and on cathedral
spires in Alabama ; and how long will it
be before his lordship's poultry acquire
the same habit ? My dear Watson,
have you never heard of the fondness
of the Ethiopian race for poultry of
tender years ? "
" What ! you do not mean to tell me

that Bishop Johnson is a negro ? "
" I am sure of it, and as usual the
police will get the credit for the discov-
ery that is to say, provided they ever
discover it."
A REVERIE OF COLLEGE DAYS .
BY IK MARVEL.
My interviewer was a civil man,
though something persistent and stren-

uous ; he had certain facts already in
his possession (most interviewers have)
bearing upon the main issue-knew my
age, for instance, or guessed it , from
my white hair-believed that I entered
at Yale in or about 1836- and could I
kindly supply any recollections about
old commencements , officers of the
college, etc. , etc. ? by which time he
had brought his pencil to a good
point.
Of course I could ; though my recol-
lection might be somewhat jumbled ;
nor could I be always sure of my dates,
94
A REVERIE OF COLLEGE DAYS. 95
or even Christian names ; nor did I

think much interest could attach-
My interviewer here made a pretty
deprecatory gesture with both hands,
and signified that he was-all atten-
tion.
That old six weeks' vacation for the
seniors which once intervened between
what was called class day and Com-

mencement (I observed) , was wholly
wiped out by the new authorities ; yet
what a glorious festal time for those
who had finished their courses-
unconditioned- was that six weeks of
triumphant idleness and dignity ! To

have the freedom of those august
courts of learning (the Atheneum and
Lyceum) and no tingling horror of
the college bell ! The sophomores re-
garded us (seniors ) with a new admi-
ration, and freshmen were transfixed
with awe, as we strode past them on
the campus. Then came, too, the vic-
torious forays, in companies of two or
five, to Morris Cove or Savin Rock
96 A REVERIE OF COLLEGE DAYS.
(whose single, great shambling hos-

telry then flanked the Cliff) or to
Guilford Point, astonishing the vil
lagers on the way, and winning the
smiles of those alert young women
who already scented " Commence-

ment" in the air.
The privileges of that last long

vacation gave us also the freedom of
the great Tontine tavern, which then
dominated, with its vast bulk, the
whole eastern side of the green ; and
we strode up and down its majestic
corridors—fearless of prying monitors
or tutors --and snuffing, with independ-
ent air, the odors of those fragrant
stews, which have risen for more than
half a century now, from the lower
windows (upon Court Street) ; and
which in the far-away days I speak of
mingled regalingly with the odors of
stables, and of blooming house gardens
that stretched all the way down to the
banks of the Canal.
-The interviewer pricked up his ears

at the word " Canal." Certainly, I

continued ; and an old Annalist of the
college, writing in the year 1831 ,
felicitates the citizens of New Haven
on the passage of a canal, " greatly

contributing to the health of the city,
by substituting a sheet of pure and
wholesome water for an offensive and
dangerous nuisance ."
And I myself rememberin the
days when freshman crudities of obser-
vation were not as yet worn off-gaz-
ing admiringly, from the old timber
bridge which crossed the Canal at
Chapel Street, upon a gayly equipped
barge, with " splendid accommodations
for six passengers "-drawn by two
horses, with ribbons flaunting from
their head-gear, and setting off, with
the music of a bugle , toward the upper
wilds of Farmington and Northampton .
-No , I do not think that even the
echoing bugle notes beguiled many of
us to voyaging upon the Canal. As
a rule we preferred the " powerful
steamer, New York- Captain Stone,

Commander."
There were many stagecoaches, too,
plying to the interior, and along the
shore ; these having their rendezvous
for the most part at an old coach tav-
ern (with a Lombardy poplar near it)
which once stood where the Post-
Office building now shadows a great
breadth of pavement and of car-tracks.
'Twas known too --and told to incred-
ulous up-country folk- that at this
coach center, twenty-five people had
been " booked " in a single day for
New York !
My own entrée to the town, as fresh-
man, was from another quarter ; four

of us from the old school at Ellington,
who were to be bunched together upon
the Agony Seats of examination , came,

bouncing and see-sawing together, over
the thorough-braces of a Hartford
coach- down through Berlin and Meri-

den and Wallingford , past plains of
sand, past lines of poplars, through
Whitneyville Gun Works, and thence,

by a long, straight stretch past woods
and fields and silences (save our own
bubbling talk) to the northern end of
Temple Street- amazing even then for
its beauty of over-arching elms- and
to the proper beginning of the town.
-Yes, we stopped at the Tontine,
and kept our courage up by strolling
next day, together, to the chapel- in
whose galleries the officers of the " in-
quisition " were in waiting. But the
terrors of the ordeal were very much
softened by the kindly words of the
stately and white-haired professor of
chemistry, who put all manner of caress-
ing suavities into his speech -whose
home with its great gardens, bordering
the Canal, we had already caught
glimpse of, and whose Sunday night

alliterative and alluring invocations, for
years thereafter, seemed to open the
sunset gates of each recurring Sunday
upon " shining courts above."
-No, even in those days, when sev-
100 A REVERIE of college DAYS.
enty-five made a good class number, it

was not easy to find lodging in the col-
lege proper ; it has sometimes been
matter of regret with me, that I could
not put " South- Middle " in the schedule
of my youthful opportunities ; but I
had cozy quarters, down College
Street, beyond Crown, in a house
which-with some modern addenda-
still beams its old welcome from the
upstair front- broad as the day .
There I was chummed with a noble-
hearted fellow and friend (Jacob
Perkins), who in the fifties came to
great honor and great success, in his
native State of Ohio- as he richly de-
served to do and died thirty-five years
since in Cuba, with his harvest of hon-
ors only half garnered. For the three
succeeding years of the college life I
held my eyrie in a little chamber-
now I think profaned to photographic
uses-upon the corner of High and
Chapel Streets ; giving view in those
days upon the works of a zealous little
A REVERIE of college DAYS. ΙΟΙ
cabinet-maker, who plied his trade,

and set his newly varnished tables to
dry-just where the front porch of
the art school now invites the curious
stranger. A snug bureau of this work-
man's make has been my nightly com-
panion for fifty years. In the rear of
these shops on what is now the college
inclosure-perhaps covered by a wing
of the new library- I saw at every
nooning, in those far days, a file of
black-habited theologs go in to their
daily repast in the eating hall, where
boarding " rates " were less costly than
in the larger one of the College Com-
mons. Next door to this refectory
lived that great master of the Yale

printing offices, B. L. Hamlen, Esq.
From his morning and nightly pass-
ings, I came to know his attitudes, and
movements, as well as those of the
weather vane upon the belfry of the

Lyceum ; a thin, gaunt, Roman-nosed
man , with hair sparse and unkempt ;
keen-eyed, quick in movement ; scud-
ding in wintry winds with camlet cloak

drawn tight about his nether limbs, and
on frosty mornings, a bead upon the
tip of his Roman nose. He was well
up in all the printing arts of that day ;

keenly intelligent, too ; making the
most of printers' large opportunities .
When afterward I became almost a
denizen of his office (on the sky floor
of the old building which the Messrs.
Veitch have so long made fragrant with
their floral trade) I enjoyed long dis-
cussions with him, upon every imagi-
nable subject- he leaning on his case,
and I enjoying for the nonce the digni-
ties of an editorial chair, and looking
out over the New Haven Green, cut
thwart by the sheen of the Greek State
House. With me he was suavity
itself ; but there were times when, as I
toiled up the narrow stairway, I have
overheard him giving a wordy wallop
to some careless apprentice which
transcended all the bounds of ortho-
doxy.
-My interviewer smiled ; but- drew

out his watch.
I skipped incontinently to the ground

floor of the same range of buildings,
fronting the New Haven Green ; and
introduced the subject of the College
Book Store.
What a haunt it was, to be sure !
Edward Herrick was the senior of the
firm for some years ; but far too studi-
ous and searching to permit of his giv-
ing fit attention to cross-counter traffic ;
a scholar, linguist, entomologist, astron-
omer ; helpful to all needing help, and
finding his niche at last in the alcoves
of the College library. The junior
bookseller in this rendezvous of all
properly disposed Yale men was Ben
Noyes ; never covetous of titles, nor
loving books overmuch ; but bringing
rare energy, and unflagging zeal, to
whatever roused his sympathies. All
New Haven men of the last generation
knew Ben Noyes, and his dark eyes,
and long hair, and sinewy make. He
knew no fatigues and no risks that he

dared not face. He had a quick eye
for " Primaries," and for lobbying ; con-
jured men into Congress, secured
charters for some-gained appoint-
ments for friends , and saddled insurance
risks for others ; he wrought for many
who turned their backs on him, and
died, chafing at the indolence which
disease imposed.
Going westward from the wealthy
shelves of the College Book Store , I
remember nothing but a shambling
wooden building upon that corner where
now the august pile of the New Haven
House invites the rich and the way-
farer ; but beyond, and against that

portion of the old Campus where the
old "South " threw its afternoon shadow,
there stood a squat, three-story build-
ing, pierced by a narrow stairway in its
center, which led to many upper mys-
teries-among them that long vaulted
chamber where Linonia held court, and
where " fresh " candidates from the up
country looked in amazement upon the
damask upholstery, the splendid veneer-

ing of the president's desk, and the
brilliant glitter of those chandeliers,
which were wont to tremble and shake
under the tempests of college oratory.
Still further westward on the hither
side of the ancient homestead of Roger
Sherman (now utterly vanished) and

Occupying the site, where now- in curi-
ous cohesion- a theater, a dance hall,
an inn, a flower stand, an undertaker's
warerooms, and a republican club invite
the living and the dying-there stood
sixty years ago, a gaunt, ill-kept, two-
story house, with disorderly courtyard,
where one or two umbrageous trees
grew, and where a grimy shop put its
forestep to the very street. This was
the domain of one Moyd, who dis-

pensed refreshments- cakes, coffee,
oysters, apples, metheglin, and hot
whiskies. He died swiftly one day-
in the middle of his work ; an autopsy
showed strange and abnormal cardiac

conditions, which insured (as rumor

used to run) the treasurement of the
heart and other vital organs, in the
spirit jars of a medical museum ; few
Yale men have made a heartier contri-
bution to science.
And Percival-he must have been
living in those days ? (Interviewer

suggests. ) Certainly ; though it was
but rarely that we caught glimpses of
him, scooting along the sideways, or
mousing among the new books on the
counters of Herrick & Noyes. A lank
figure, pinched features, hair all dishev-
eled, shoes unblackened , trousers knee-
jointed, and scarce reaching to his
ankles -yet a piercing look of intelli-
gence in his eye, which- if ever caught
-was long remembered. He was at
his poorest in those days ; living some-
times in a garret of the hospital-
always in narrowest quarters ; at issue
with Governor Ellsworth about his
small pay for geologic service ; in all

business matters slow, uncertain , and
cranky ; unlimited patience with details

that did not count practically ; putting
infinite pains to mineralogic quests ,
which most men ( even scientific) would
have gone over at a slap -dash gait ; and,
in the intervals of his mundane work,
weaving such broidery of charming

wordy music as belongs to the " Coral
Grove"; not a man, surely, to be sneered
out of court, or to be broken " on the
wheel," as Mr. Lowell did, in his review
of Ward's biography.
-The interviewer is flatteringly
gracious, but interposes again : " What
about old Commencements ? Was inter-
est in them more general ? " Without

a doubt ; why, all the ministers and the
deacons in the near towns put on clean
collars and their best toggery to drive
in for Commencement day. The old
railing about the green was a hitching
place for half its circuit. Old ladies
living along the out-of-town roads,
plotted for the return of their best bom-
bazines from the mantua makers, for
the Commencement scrimmage . The

seniors coming back from that “ lark ”
of a six weeks' vacation , which I told
you of-sun-browned and chirrupy-
beamed with a contagious joyousness ;
the aunts and cousins and sweethearts
of these last (and of the new-come
"fresh " ) flooded all the walks with
flashing cambrics and cheeriness.
Even before the great procession-
headed by the sheriff of the county, and
with constables for marshals -had mean-
dered its way down from the Lyceum
door-step to the front of Centre Church,
the galleries were packed-the windows
all open, showing piles of muslin and
fluttering fans, while the whole interior
air of the temple was heavy with the
incense of pinks, fennel, new prunella
shoes, and late summer flowers.
The last year's freshmen (we had
begun even then to call ourselves
sophomores) following immediately

after the constabulary, and dividing
ranks at the door, posted their strongest
men-the class " bully " foremost-to

hold back the surging crowd, which ,
when the dignitaries- governors, sen-
ators, doctors - had wriggled through
and were installed upon their lifted
rostrum , flowed in with a swift tide that
made the whole church a sea of heads.
Among the dignitaries in the times
I best remember, the curious might
have pointed out the tall, spare figure
of Governor Ellsworth, perhaps flanked
by ex-Governor Edwards, and Judge
Daggett, serene, in his top boots, and
the antique head of Dr. Chapin, and
Senator Smith, or, mayhap , General
Kimberley (who loved his own chafing
dish at the Tontine tables ) , and the
Puritan dignity of Rev. Noah Porter
(father of the late president) , and— not
least regarded - by reason of the " Auc-
toritatem meam "" with which he is in-
vested, the kindly president of the col-

lege, Dr. Day. He was not at his
best in fêtes, nor in his ' beaver, seated
in the old Pierson chair ; nor yet in
ΙΙΟ REVERIE OF college DAYS.
his Algebra, or " Treatise on the Will ";

but in the quiet of his own North-
College room, when he beamed a be-
nignant pardon upon some offending
student.
"I beg pardon, " said the inter-

viewer; "were you ever- suspended ? "
President Day lived in a quiet little
home that, with its garden, occupied
ground now covered by Farnam Col-
lege, and stretching back over that por-
tion of the campus lying north of North
College. By a little postern, opening
through billowy heaps of lilacs, he
wended his way, every morning of
winter-long before sunrise -to pray
for us and all backsliders !
I go back now to the church. (The

interviewer acceded gracefully. )
Orations, dissertations , " sacred mu-
sic " boomed in the pent air, where
fans were all a-flutter. Possibly some
" dramatic fragment ," like " Salathiel , "
by John Brocklesby, varied the monot-
ony in black. In the " sacred music "
A REVERIE OF COLLEGE DAYS. III
I think there may have been a faint

"flute" note ; of violins, I am not so sure ;
but the bass-viol was, I think, wrested
from the grip of Satan at an earlier
period than its smaller and saucier sis-
ter. There was an interlude at noon,
and a breaking of cold meats - at which

all the hungry dominies of near towns
regaled themselves.
Then came again-as the sun turned
its sky journey and smote hotly from
the west- a new booming of the music,
a livelier fluttering of the fans, and a
new threshing of such old truisms as
" Truth is mighty, and will prevail. "
The Dignitaries wax hot and weary,
and are more than ready for the
final benediction which follows upon
the distribution of the honors, ad Pri-
mum Gradum. Then a last burst of
irregular music swells again ; the fans

cease their flutter ; the crowd eddies
into slow, murmurous currents that flow
down the aisles, and out into the breezy
air of an August afternoon.

" Excuse me," said the interviewer

(pencil in hand) , " but did you say who
was the quarter back ' in your class
team ? "
I did not.
LITTLE FRENCH MARY .
BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT.
THE town of Dulham was not used
to seeing foreigners of any sort, or to

hearing their voices in the streets, so
that it was in some sense a matter of
public interest when a Canadian family

was reported to have come to the white
house by the bridge. This house,
small and low-storied, with a bushy
little garden in front, had been stand-
ing empty for several months. Usually,
when a house was left tenantless in
Dulham, it remained so and fell into
decay, and, after some years, the cin-
namon rose bushes straggled into the
cellar, and the dutiful grass grew over
the mound that covered the chimney
113
114 LITTLE FRENCH MARY.
bricks. Dulham was a quiet place ,

where the population dwindled stead-
ily, though such citizens as remained
had more and more reason to think it
as pleasant as any country town in the
world.
Some of the old men who met every
day to talk over the town affairs were

much interested in the newcomers.
They approved the course of the

strong-looking young Canadian laborer
who had been quick to seize upon his
opportunity ; one or two of them had
already engaged him to make their
gardens and to do odd jobs, and were
pleased with his quickness and willing-
ness. He had come afoot one day
from a neighboring town, where he

and his wife had been made ill by bad
drainage and factory work, and saw
the little house, and asked the post-
master if there were any work to be

had out of doors that spring in Dul-
ham . Being assured of his prospects,
he reappeared with his pale, bright-
LITTLE FRENCH MARY. 115
eyed wife and little daughter the very

next day but one. This startling
promptness had given time for but few
persons to hear the news of a new
neighbor, and as one after another
came over the bridge and along the

road there were many questions asked .
The house seemed to have new life
looking out of its small-paned win-

dows ; there were clean white curtains,
and china dogs on the window sills ,
and a blue smoke in the chimney-the
spring sun was shining in at the wide-
open door.
There was a chilly east wind on an
April day, and the elderly men were
gathered inside the post office , which
was also the chief grocery and dry
goods store. Each was in his favorite
armchair, and there was the excuse of
a morning fire in the box stove to make
them form again into the close group
that was usually broken up at the ap-
proach of summer weather. Old Cap-
tain Weathers was talking about Alexis,
the newcomer (they did not try to pro-

nounce his last name) , and was saying
for the third or fourth time that the
more work you set for the Frenchman
the better pleased he seemed to be.
" Helped ' em to lay a carpet yesterday
at our house , neat as wax, " said the
captain, with approval. " Made the
garden in the front yard so it hasn't
looked so well for years. We're all
goin' to find him very handy ; he'll

have plenty to do among us all sum-
mer. Seems to know what you want
the minute you p'int, for he can't make

out very well with his English. I used
to be able to talk considerable French
in my early days when I sailed from
southern ports to Havre and Bordeaux,
but I don't seem to recall it now very
well. He'd have made a smart sailor,
Alexis would ; quick an' willing. "

They say Canada French aint
spoke the same, anyway " -began the

captain's devoted friend, Mr. Ezra
Spooner, by way of assurance, when
the store door opened and a bright

little figure stood looking in. All the
gray-headed men turned that way, and
every one of them smiled.
" Come right in, dear, " said the kind-

hearted old captain.
They saw a charming little creature

about six years old, who smiled back
again from under her neat bit of a hat ;
she wore a pink dress that made her
look still more like a flower, and she
said " Boujour " prettily to the gentle-
men as she passed . Henry Staples,
the storekeeper and postmaster, rose
behind the counter to serve his cus-
tomer as if she had been a queen, and
took from her hand the letter she
brought, with the amount of its post-

age folded up in a warm bit of news-
paper.
The captain and his friends looked
on with admiration.
" Give her a piece of candy- no,
give it to me, an ' I'll give it to her,"
said the captain eagerly, reaching for
his cane and leaving his chair with more

than usual agility ; and everybody
looked on while he took a striped stick
of peppermint from the storekeeper
and offered it gallantly. There was
something in the way this favor was
accepted that savored of the French
court and made every man in the store
a lover.
The child not only made a quaint
bow before she reached out her hand
with childish eagerness for the unex-
pected delight, but she stepped forward
and kissed the captain .
There was a murmur of delight at
this charming courtesy ; not a man
there would not have liked to find some
excuse for walking away with her, and

there was a general sigh as she shut the
door behind her, and looked back
through the glass with a parting smile.
" That's little French Mary, Alexis'
little girl," said the storekeeper, eager
to proclaim his advantage of previous
acquaintance. " She came here yester-
day, and did an errand for her mother

as nice as a grown person could. "
" I never saw a little creatur' with
prettier ways," said the captain , blush-

ing and tapping his cane on the floor.
This first appearance of the little
foreigner on an April day was like the
coming of a young queen to her king-
dom. She reigned all summer over
every heart in Dulham- not a face but
wore its smiles when French Mary

came down the street ; not a mother
who did not say to her children that
she wished they had such pretty man-
ners, and kept their frocks as neat.
The child danced and sang like a fairy,
and condescended to all childish games,
and yet, best of all for her friends,

seemed to see no difference between
young and old. She sometimes fol-
lowed Captain Weathers home, and

discreetly dined or took tea with him
and his housekeeper, an honored guest ;
on rainy days she might be found in
the shoemaker's shop or the black-
smith's, watching them at their work ;

smiling much but speaking little, and
teaching as much French as she learned
English. To this day, in Dulham,
people laugh and repeat her strange
foreign words and phrases. Alexis,
the father, was steady at his work of
gardening and haying ; Marie, the
elder, his wife, washed and ironed and
sewed and swept, and was a helper in
many households ; now and then on
Sunday they set off early in the morn-
ing and walked to the manufacturing
town whence they had come, to go to
mass ; at the end of the summer, when
they felt prosperous, they sometimes
hired a horse and wagon, and drove
there with the child between them.
Dulham village was the brighter and

better for their presence, and the few
old-fashioned houses that knew them
treasured them, and French Mary
reigned over her kingdom with no re-
volt or disaffection to the summer's
end . She seemed to fulfill all the
duties of her childish life by some ex-
quisite instinct and infallible sense of

fitness and propriety.
One September morning, after the
first frost, the captain and his friends.
were sitting in the store with the door
shut. The captain was the last comer.
" I've got bad news, " he said, and

they all turned toward him, apprehen-
sive and forewarned.
" Alexis says he's going right away "
(regret was mingled with the joy of
having a piece of news to tell). " Yes,
Alexis is going away ; he's packing up
now, and has spoke for Foster's hay
cart to move his stuff to the railroad. '
" What makes him so foolish ?" said
Mr. Spooner.
"He says his folks expect him in
Canada ; he's got an aunt livin' there
that owns a good house and farm, and
she's gittin' old and wants to have him
settled at home to take care of her."
" I've heard these French folks only

desire to get forehanded a little, and
then they go right back where they

come from ," said someone, with an air
of disapproval .
" He says he'll send another man
here ; he knows somebody that will be
glad of the chance, but I don't seem to
like the idea so well, " said Captain
Weathers doubtfully . " We've all got
so used to Alexis and his wife ; they
know now where we keep everything,
and have got to be so handy. Strange
they don't know when they're well off !
I suppose it's natural they should want
to be with their own folks. Then
there's the little girl."
At this moment the store door was
opened and French Mary came in.
She was dressed in her best, and her
eyes were shining.
" I go to Canada in ze cars ! " she
announced joyfully, and came dancing
down between the two long counters
toward her regretful friends ; they had
never seen her so charming.
Argument and regret were impossi-
ble-the forebodings of elderly men

and their experience of life were of no
use at that moment ; a gleam of youth
and hope was theirs by sympathy in-
stead. A child's pleasure in a journey
moves the dullest heart ; the captain
was the first to find some means of ex-
pression.
" Give me some o' that best candy
for her," he commanded the store-
keeper. ' No, take a bigger piece of
paper, and tie it up well."
" Aint she dressed a little thin ? "
said gruff Mr. Spooner anxiously, and

for his part he pointed the storekeeper
to a small plaid shawl that hung over-
head, and stooped to wrap it himself
about the little shoulders.
"I must get the little girl some-

thing, too," said the minister, who was
a grandfather and had just come in for
his mail. " What do you like best,
my dear ? " and French Mary pointed
shyly, but with instant decision, at a
blue silk parasol, with a white handle,
which was somewhat the worse for
having been openly displayed all sum-

mer. The minister bought it with
pleasure, like a country boy at a fair,

and put it into her hand.
French Mary kissed the minister

with rapture and gave him her hand to
shake ; then she put down the parasol
and ran and climbed into the old сар-
tain's lap, and hugged him with both

arms tight round his neck. She
thought for a moment whether she
should kiss Mr. Ezra Spooner or not,
but happily she did not decide against
it, and said an affectionate good-by to
him and all the rest. Mr. Staples
himself came out from behind the
counter to say farewell and bestow
some raisins. They all followed her
to the door and stood watching while
she tucked her bundles under her arm
and raised the new parasol and walked

away down the street in the chilly
autumn morning. She had taken her
French gayety and charm and all her
childish sweetness and dignity away

with her. Little French Mary had
gone. Fate had plucked her like a
flower out of their lives.
She did not turn back, but when she
was halfway home she began to run
and the new shawl was given gayly to
the breeze. The captain sighed.
" I wish the little girl well," he said,
and turned away. "" We shall miss
her, but she doesn't know what part-

ing is. I hope she'll please them just
as well in Canada. "
LITERARY FLOTSAM AND JETSAM.
IT has been said that Mrs. Amélie Rives Chanler was discov-
ered by Thomas Nelson Page, and possibly that may be true.
It is a fact, however, that she made her first start in literature
through the assistance of the accomplished London correspond-
ent of the New York World. He met her in Richmond, and
afterwards took one of her stories to a magazine editor, with the
remark that he was willing to stake his literary reputation on
its being worthy of publication. Some of her music was also
published at the same time, but that attracted no attention.
****
The name of Amélie Rives naturally suggests that of Mrs.

Gertrude Atherton , as they both made their débuts about the
same time. Mrs. Atherton's next book will be " A Whirl
Asunder." It has already been published in England, and
copyrighted here ; and will be put on the American market
shortly. It treats principally of California life, and opens
with a description of the revels of the Bohemian Club of San
Francisco, which are known as "" Midsummer Jinks."
****
A new humorist, who has attracted a good deal of attention
in the last two years, is Albert Henry Lewis, of the Washing-
ton Post. His stories deal principally with Western life, where
he has spent a number of years, participating in adventures of
the most exciting kind. His stories are published in a number
ofsyndicate papers, including the New York Times, and he has
been hailed with enthusiasm in the West as a possible successor
of Bret Harte. His work will be published in book form early
in 1897.
****
Anthony Hope Hawkins had almost come to the conclusion
that he had made a failure in literature-at least a popular fail-
ure, until the appearance of " The Prisoner of Zenda. "
****
Robert Barr, who is one of the most popular of American

writers in England, will have a novel ready early next year. It
will be called " A Woman Intervenes," and its scenes are on
both sides of the Atlantic. Mr. Barr has given up the editor-
ship of The Idler, and is devoting himself entirely to writing
fiction.
126
Choice Works of Art.
THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES .

Translated from the original of SAINT-JUIRS, illustrated with sixty
drawings by DANIEL VIERGE, together with a critical essay on
his art by EDMUND Gosse.
No more beautiful present could be devised than this .
VIERGE is foremost among the illustrators of Paris. His ex-
quisite drawings display a knowledge of form, of light, of shade,
of architecture, expressed with a brilliancy of handling which
has never been equaled . With a portrait of VIERGE as a fron-
tispiece and a title-page in two colors. The title is stamped in
gold on the front side and back, which are almost entirely cov
ered with an attractive design in gold, heavily embossed .
Only 125 copies have been printedfor this country. Price, $ 15.
UNDINE .
By BARON FRIEdrich de la FOUQUÉ. Translated from the Ger-
man. With a critical introduction by Edmund Gosse.
The handsomest edition of this German classic ever published.
Profusely illustrated by full-page photogravures after original
designs by W. E. F. BRITTEN. Printed on good paper. Svo,
dark cloth, stamped in gold, beveled boards, gilt top. $5.00 .
WESTMINSTER .
By SIR WALTER BESANT. A companion book to the valuable work
on " London," by Sir Walter Besant. Full of interesting de-
scriptions of, and historical ..matter concerning, the wonderful
buildings and monuments of this city which has no citizens."
One of the most valuable and attractive gift books of the year.
Well printed on good paper, and with 130 illustrations by Wil-
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Same, white buckram, with front cover almost entirely covered
with tasteful stamping in gold, full gilt, boxed, $4.00.
SENT POSTPAID.

27 & 29, WEST 23D STREET, New York.

New and Popular Fiction .
BIJOU SERIES .
Bobemia Invaded.
A Collection of Stories of New York life by JAMES L.
FORD, author of " The Literary Shop . ”
Mr. Ford is one of the most brilliant satirists in this country, and
there is no one in New York who has a more thorough knowledge of
metropolitan life of every kind.
A White Baby. By JAMES WELSH .
A story of great strength and religious feeling, laid among the
negroes in South Carolina after the war.
The Red Spell . By FRANCIS GRIBBLE .

A story of the French Commune.
A Bubble.
A Delightful Love Story by Mrs. L. B. WALFORD, the
author of " The Baby's Grandmother.
" Mrs. Walford tells pretty stories, and her latest, ' A Bubble, ' is
very clever. "-The World.
" Mrs. Walford tells her story with a freshness and graphic realism
that makes it new, and what is more, one of the most attractive
stories of the year. "-Boston Advertiser.
Chiffon's Marriage . By Gyp.

66
Breezy and fascinating enough to be read through at one sit-
ting."-Cedar Rapids Gazette.
66
Cleverly and brightly written . "—Philadelphia Item.
" Wholesome in tone, sufficiently strong to be entertaining, and
cleverly written. "-Pasadena News.
Each volume 18mo, colored buckram, tastefully stamped with colored

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Tales of Modern Social Life .
WEST END SERIES .
THE GRASSHOPPERS.
" La cigale, ayant chanté
Tout l'été,
Se trouva fort dépourvue
Quand la bise fut venue."
Sparkling with brilliant and witty conversation. The story is laid
in London and in Hamburg, and the sketch of German society is
especially original and interesting.
" An original and engrossing novel . Laughter goes hand in hand with
tears, and the dialogue, which is invariably crisp and natural, abounds in unex-
pected humor. "-London Athenæum .
" Mrs. Andrew Dean is one of the very few clever satirists in England at this
moment, and one of the cleverest among these . We want a little more gentleness
from her sometimes, . . . but she has done what she set out to do without bun-
gling.
Bookman We have not met with an abler novel than hers for many months." -The
.
"The author shows much artistic skill, and reveals a refreshing sense of
humor." -Cedar Rapids Gazette.
" It is a good story, and, what is more, an unusual one."-Rocky Mountain
News.
The Grasshoppers ' is bright from the title to the finish."-New Haven
Register.
A COMEDY IN SPASMS.
By IOTA, author of ** The Yellow Aster." A brilliant satire on
modern English social life. Not morbid , like many of the books by the
leaders ofthe " new women," but marked by keen and fascinating wit.
STOLEN SOULS.
By WILLIAM LE QUEUX. A series of stories of adventure bythe
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Vol. I. DECEMBER, 1895. No. 2.

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PUBLISHED BY
CONTENTS .
The Long Arm .

MARY E. WILKINS and J. E. CHAMBERLIN.
The Miracles. RUDYARD KIPLING.
My Well, and What Came Out of It.
FRANK R. STOCKTON.
The 'Jinin' Farms. EUGENE FIELD .
Eily Considine. ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.
A Christmas Reminiscence .
AMELIA E. BARR.
Literary Flotsam and Jetsam .
Copyright, 1895, by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY.

attractive form. Each number will contain a
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THE LONG ARM . *
BY MARY E. WILKINS AND JOSEPH E.

CHAMBERLIN.
CHAPTER I.
THE TRAGEDY.
(FROM notes written by Miss Sarah

Fairbanks immediately after the report
of the Grand Jury.)
As I take my pen to write this, I

have a feeling that I am on the witness
stand-for or against myself, which ?
The place of the criminal in the dock
I will not voluntarily take. I will af-
firm neither my innocence nor my
guilt. I will present the facts of the
case as impartially and as coolly as if I
Copyright, 1895, by Irving Bacheller.
2 THE LONG ARM.
had nothing at stake. I will let all
who may read this judge me as they

will.
This I am bound to do, since I am
condemned to something infinitely
worse than the life-cell or the gallows.
I will try my own self in lieu of judge
and jury ; my guilt or my innocence I
will prove to you all , if it be in mortal
power. In my despair I am tempted
to say I care not which it may be, so
something be proved. Open condem-
nation could not overwhelm me like
universal suspicion .
Now, first, as I have heard is the
custom in courts of law, I will present
the case. I am Sarah Fairbanks,
a country school-teacher, twenty-nine

years of age. My mother died when I
was twenty-three. Since then, while I
have been away teaching at Digby, a
cousin of my father's, Rufus Bennett,
and his wife have lived with my father.
During the long summer vacations
they returned to their little farm in
THE LONG ARM. 3.
Vermont, and I kept house for my

father.
For five years I have been engaged

to be married to Henry Ellis, a young
man whom I met in Digby. My father

was very much opposed to the match ,
and has told me repeatedly that if I
insisted upon marrying him in his life-
time he would disinherit me. On this
account Henry has never visited me

at my own home. While I could not
bring myself to break off finally my

engagement, I wished to avoid an
open rupture with my father. He was
quite an old man, and I was the only

one he had left of a large family.
I believe that parents should honor
their children, as well as children their
parents, but I had arrived at this con-
clusion : In nine-tenths of the cases
wherein children marry against their

parents' wishes , even when the parents
have no just grounds for opposition ,
the marriages are unhappy.
I sometimes felt that I was unjust to
4 THE LONG ARM.
Henry, and resolved that if ever I sus

pected that his fancy turned toward
any other girl I would not hinder it ,
especially as I was getting older, and,
I thought, losing my good looks.
A little while ago, a young and
pretty girl came to Digby to teach the
school in the south district. She
boarded in the same house with
Henry. I heard that he was some-

what attentive to her, and I made up
my mind I would not interfere. At
the same time it seemed to me my
heart was breaking. I heard her
people had money, too, and she was
an only child. I had always felt that
Henry ought to marry a wife with
money, because he had nothing him-
self, and was not very strong.
School closed five weeks ago, and I
came home for the summer vacation.
The night before I left Harry came to

see me, and urged me to marry him.
I refused again ; but I never before
had felt that my father was so hard
THE LONG ARM. 5
and cruel as I did that night. Henry

said that he should certainly see me
during the vacation , and when I replied
that he must not come he was angry,
and said-but such foolish things are
not worth repeating. Henry has really
a very sweet temper, and would not
hurt a fly.
The very night of my return home
Rufus Bennett and my father had
words about some maple sugar which
Rufus made on his Vermont farm and
sold to my father, who made a good

trade for it to some people in Boston.
That was father's business. He had
once kept a store, but had given it up,

and sold a few articles that he could
make a large profit on here and there
at wholesale. He used to send to
New Hampshire and Vermont for

butter, eggs, and cheese. Cousin
Rufus thought father did not allow him

enough of his profit on the maple
sugar, and in the dispute father lost
his temper and said that Rufus had
6 THE LONG ARM.
given him underweight. At that

Rufus swore an oath and seized father
by the throat. Rufus' wife screamed,

" Oh, don't ! don't ! Oh, he'll kill
him !"
I went up to Rufus and took hold

of his arm .
" Rufus Bennett," said I , " you let
my father go ! "
But Rufus ' eyes glared like a mad-
man's, and he would not let go. Then
I went to the desk-drawer where father
had kept a pistol since some houses in

the village were broken into . I got
out the pistol, laid hold of Rufus again,
and held the muzzle against his fore-
head.
" You let go my father, " said I , “ or

I'll fire !"
Then Rufus let go, and father

dropped like a log. He was purple in
the face. Rufus' wife and I worked a
long time over him to bring him to.

" Rufus Bennett," said I, "go to the
well and get a pitcher of water. " He
THE LONG ARM. 7
went, but when father had revived and
got up Rufus gave him a look that

showed he was not over his rage.
" I'll get even with you yet, Martin

Fairbanks, old man as you are ! " he
shouted out, and went into the other
room .
We got father to bed soon. He
slept in the bedroom downstairs, out

of the sitting room. Rufus and his
wife had the north chamber, and I had
the south one. I left my door open
that night, and did not sleep any. I
listened ; no one stirred in the night.

Rufus and his wife were up very early
in the morning, and before nine o'clock

left for Vermont. They had a day's
journey and would reach home about
nine in the evening. Rufus' wife bade
father good-by, crying, while Rufus was
getting their trunks downstairs, but
Rufus did not go near father nor me.
He ate no breakfast ; his very back
looked ugly when he went out of the
yard .
8 THE LONG ARM.
That very day, about seven o'clock

in the evening, after tea, I had just
washed the dishes and put them away
and went out on the north doorstep,

where father was sitting, and sat down
on the lowest step. There was a cool
breeze there ; it had been a very hot
day.
" I want to know if that Ellis fellow
has been to see you any, lately ? "
said father all at once.
" Not a great deal, " I answered.

“ Did he come to see you the last
night you were there ? " said father.
" Yes, sir," said I , " he did come. "
" If you ever have another word to
say to that fellow while I live I'll kick
you out of this house like a dog, daugh-

ter of mine though you be ! " said he.
Then he swore a great oath and called
66
God to witness. 'Speak to that fel-
low again, if you dare, while I live ! "

said he.
I did not say a word ; I just looked

up at him as I sat there. Father
THE LONG ARM. 9
turned pale, and shrank back, and put

his hand to his throat, where Rufus
had clutched him. There were some
purple finger-prints there.

" I suppose you would have been
glad if he'd killed me, " father cried
out.
" I saved your life, ” said I.

" What did you do with that pistol ? "
he asked.
" I put it back in the desk-drawer. "

I got up and went around and sat on
the west doorstep, which is the front
one. As I sat there the bell rang for
the Tuesday evening meeting, and

Phoebe Dole and Maria Woods, two
old maiden ladies, dressmakers, our
next-door neighbors, went past on
their way to meeting. Phoebe stopped
and asked if Rufus and his wife had
gone. Maria went around the house.
Very soon they went on, and several
other people passed . When they had
all gone it was as still as death.
I sat alone a long time, until I could

10 THE LONG ARM.
see by the shadows that the full moon

had risen. Then I went up to my
room and went to bed.
I lay awake a long time, crying. It

seemed to me that all hope of mar-
riage between Henry and me was over.
I could not expect him to wait for me.
I thought of that other girl ; I could
see her pretty face wherever I looked.
But at last I cried myself to sleep.
At about five o'clock I woke and got
up. Father always wanted his break-
fast at six o'clock, and I had to prepare
it now .
When father and I were alone he al-
ways built the fire in the kitchen stove.
But that morning I did not hear him

stirring as usual, and I fancied that he
must be so out of temper with me that
he would not build the fire.
I went to my closet for a dark-blue
calico dress which I wore to do house-
work in. It had hung there during all
the school term . As I took it off the
hook, my attention was caught by

THE LONG ARM. II
something strange about the dress I

had worn the night before. This dress.
was made of thin summer silk ; it was
green in color, sprinkled over with
white rings. It had been my best
dress for two summers ; but now I
was wearing it on hot afternoons at
home, for it is the coolest dress I have.
The night before, too, I had thought

of the possibility of Henry's driving
over from Digby and passing the
house. He had done this sometimes
during the last summer vacation , and I
wished to look my best if he did.
As I took down the calico dress I
saw what seemed to be a stain on the
green silk.
silk. I threw on the calico
hastily and then took the green silk

and carried it over to the window. It
was covered with spots-horrible great
splashes and streaks down the front.
The right sleeve, too , was stained, and
all the stains were wet.
"What have I got on my dress ?"
said I.
12 THE LONG ARM.
It looked like blood . Then I

smelled of it , and it was sickening in
my nostrils, but I was not sure what
the smell of blood was like. I thought
I must have got the stains by some

accident the night before.
"If that is blood on my dress ," I
said, " I must do something to get it off
at once, or the dress will be ruined . "
It came to my mind that I had been
told that blood-stains had been re-
moved from cloth by an application
of flour paste on the wrong side. I
took my green silk and ran down the
back stairs, which lead, having a door

at the foot, directly into the kitchen.
There was no fire in the kitchen
stove, as I had thought. Everything

was very solitary and still, except for
the ticking of the clock on the shelf.
When I crossed the kitchen to the
pantry, however, the cat mewed to be
let in from the shed . She had a little
door of her own by which she could
enter or leave the shed at will- an
THE LONG ARM. 13
aperture just large enough for her

maltese body to pass at ease beside
the shed door. It had a little lid, too ,
hung upon a leather hinge. On my

way I let in the cat ; then I went to
the pantry and got a bowl of flour.
This I mixed with water into a stiff
paste and applied to the under surface
of the stains on my dress. I then
hung the dress up to dry in the dark
end of a closet leading out of the
kitchen, which contained some old
clothes of father's.
Then I made up the fire in the

kitchen stove ; I made coffee, baked
biscuits, and poached some eggs for
breakfast.
Then I opened the door into the

sitting room and called, " Father,
breakfast is
is ready. " Suddenly I
started. There was a red stain on the
inside of the sitting-room door. My
heart began to beat in my ears.
" Father ! " I called out ; " father !"
There was no answer.
14 THE LONG ARM.
" Father ! " I again called, as loud as

I could scream. " Why don't you
speak ? What is the matter ? ”
The door of his bedroom stood
open. I had a feeling that I saw a red
reflection in there. I gathered myself
together and went across the sitting
room to father's bedroom door. His
little looking-glass hung over his
bureau directly opposite his bed, which

was reflected in it.
That was the first thing I saw when

I reached the door. I could see father
in the looking-glass, and the bed.
Father was dead there ; he had been
murdered in the night.
CHAPTER II.
THE KNOT OF RIBBON.
I THINK I must have fainted away ;

for presently I found myself upon the
floor, and for a minute I could not
remember what had happened. Then
THE LONG ARM. 15
I remembered ; and an awful, un-

reasoning terror seized me. 66'I must
lock all the doors quick," I thought,

66
quick, or the murderer will come
back ! " I tried to get up, but I could
not stand. I sank down again. I had
to crawl out of the room on my hands
and knees.
I went first to the front door. It
was locked with a key and a bolt. I
went next to the north door, and that
was locked with a key and a bolt. I
went to the north shed door, and that
was bolted. Then I went to the little-
used east door in the shed, beside
which the cat has her little passage-
way, and that was fastened with an
iron hook. It has no latch.
The whole house was fastened on
the inside. The thought struck me

like an icy hand. "The murderer is
in this house ! " I rose to my feet
then ; I unhooked that door and ran

out of the house and out of the yard,
as for my life.
16 THE LONG ARM.
I took the road to the village. The
first house, where Phoebe Dole and

Maria Woods live, is across a wide
field from ours. I did not intend to
stop there, for they were only women

and could do nothing ; but seeing
Phoebe looking out of the window, I
ran into the yard. She opened the
window.
"What is it ? " said she. " What is
the matter, Sarah Fairbanks ? "
Maria Woods came and leaned over
her shoulder. Her face looked almost
as white as her white hair, and her
blue eyes were dilated. My face must
have frightened her.
" Father-father is murdered in his
bed ! " I said.
There was a scream , and Maria
Woods' face disappeared from over

Phoebe Dole's shoulder - she had
fainted . I don't know whether
Phoebe looked paler-she is always
very pale - but I saw in her black eyes
a look I shall never forget. I think
THE LONG ARM. 17
she began to suspect me at that

moment.
Phoebe glanced back at Maria, but

she asked me another question .
" Has he had words with anybody ? "

said she.
" Only with Rufus, " I said ; " but

Rufus is gone." Phoebe turned away
from the window to attend to Maria,
and I ran on to the village.
A hundred people can testify what I
did next- can tell how I called for the
doctor and the deputy sheriff ; how I

went back to my own home with the
horror-stricken crowd ; how they
flocked in and looked at poor father-

but only the doctor touched him, very
carefully, to see if he were quite dead ;
how the coroner came , and all the
rest.
The pistol was in the bed beside
father, but it had not been fired ;
the charge was still in the barrel.
It was blood-stained, and there was
one bruise on father's head which
18 THE LONG ARM.
might have been inflicted by the

pistol, used as a club. But the wound
which caused his death was in his
breast, and made evidently by some
cutting instrument, though the cut
was not a clean one ; the weapon must
have been dull.
They searched the house, lest the

murderer should be hidden away. I
heard Rufus Bennett's name whis-
pered by one and another. Every.
body seemed to know that he and
father had had words the night be-
fore ; I could not understand how,
because I had told nobody except
Phoebe Dole, who had had no time to
spread the news, and I was sure that
no one else had spoken of it.
They looked in the closet where my
green silk dress hung, and pushed it
aside, to be sure nobody was concealed
behind it, but they did not notice any-
thing wrong about it. It was dark in
the closet, and, besides, they did not

look for anything like that until later.
THE LONG ARM. 19
All these people- the deputy sheriff,

and afterward the high sheriff and
other out-of-town officers for whom
they had telegraphed, and the neigh-

bors-all hunted their own suspicion,
and that was Rufus Bennett. All be-
lieved that he had come back and
killed my father. They fitted all the
facts to that belief. They made him
do the deed with a long, slender screw-
driver which he had recently borrowed
from one of the neighbors and had
not returned. They made his finger-
marks, which were still on my father's
throat, fit the red prints on the sitting-
room door. They made sure that he
had returned and stolen into the house
by the east shed door, while father
and I sat on the doorsteps the evening
before ; that he had hidden himself
away, perhaps in that very closet
where my dress hung, and afterward
stolen out and killed my father and
then escaped.
They were not shaken when I told
20 THE LONG ARM.
them that every door was bolted and

barred that morning. They them-
selves found all the windows fastened
down, except a few which were open

on account of the heat, and even these
last were raised only the width of a
sash, and fastened with sticks so that
they could be raised no higher.
Father was very cautious about fasten-
ing the house, for he sometimes had
considerable sums of money by him.
The officers saw all these difficulties in
the way, but they fitted them some-
how to their theory, and two deputy
sheriffs were at once sent to apprehend
Rufus.
They had not begun to suspect me
then, and not the slightest watch was
kept on my movements. The neigh-
bors were very kind, and did every-
thing to help me, relieving me alto-
gether of all those last offices -in this
case much sadder than usual.
An inquest was held, and I told
freely all I knew, except about the
THE LONG ARM. 21
blood-stains on my dress. I hardly

knew why I kept that back. I had no
feeling then that I might have done

the deed myself, and I could not bear
to convict myself, if I was innocent.
Two of the neighbors, Mrs. Holmes
and Mrs. Adams, remained with me all
that day. Toward evening, when there
were very few in the house, they went
into the parlor to put it in order for the
funeral, and I sat down alone in the
kitchen. As I sat there by the window
I thought of my green silk dress, and
wondered if the stains were out. I
went to the closet and brought the

dress out to the light. The spots and
streaks had almost disappeared . I
took the dress out in the shed and
scraped off the flour paste, which was

quite dry ; I swept up the paste, burned
it in the stove, took the dress upstairs
to my own closet, and hung it in its old
place. Neighbors remained with me
all night.
At three o'clock in the afternoon of
22 THE LONG ARM.
the next day, which was Thursday, I

went over to Phoebe Dole's to see about
a black dress to wear to the funeral.
The neighbors had urged me to have
my black silk dress altered a little and
trimmed with crape .
I found only Maria Woods at home.

When she saw me she gave a little
scream and began to cry. She looked
as if she had already been weeping for
hours. Her blue eyes were bloodshot.
" Phoebe's gone over to- Mrs. Whit-
ney's to try on her dress," she
sobbed.
" I want to get my black silk dress
fixed a little, " said I.
"She'll be home-pretty soon," said
Maria.
I laid my dress on the sofa and sat
down. .
Nobody ever consults Maria
about a dress. She sews well, but
Phoebe does all the planning.
Maria Woods continued to sob like
a child, holding her little soaked hand-
kerchief over her face. Her shoulders
THE LONG ARM. 23
heaved. As for me, I felt like a stone ;

I could not weep.
66
" Oh," she gasped out finally,
knew, I knew ! I told Phoebe - I knew
just how it would be. I - knew ! "

I roused myself at that. " What do
you mean ?" said I.
"When Phoebe came home Tuesday
night and said she heard your father

and Rufus Bennett having words, I
knew how it would be," she choked out.
" I knew he had a dreadful temper."
"Did Phoebe Dole know Tuesday
night that father and Rufus Bennett
had words ? " said I.
""
Yes," said Maria Woods.
"How did she know ? "
" She was going through your yard,

the short cut to Mrs. Ormsby's, to
carry her brown alpaca dress home.
She came right home and told me ; and
she overheard them."
" Have you spoken of it to anybody

but me ?" said I.
Maria said she didn't know ; she
24 THE LONG ARM.
might have done so. Then she re-

membered Phoebe herself speaking of
it to Harriet Sargent when she came
in to try on her dress. It was easy to
see how people knew about it.
I did not say any more, but I thought
it was strange that Phoebe Dole had
asked me if father had had words with
anybody when she knew it all the time.
Phoebe came in before long. I tried
on my dress, and she made her plan
about the alterations and the trimming.
I made no suggestions. I did not care

how it was done, but if I had cared , it
would have made no difference. Phoebe
always did things her own way. All

the women in this village are in a
manner under Phoebe Dole's thumb.
Their garments are visible proofs of

her force of will.
While she was taking up my black

silk on the shoulder seams, Phoebe
Dole said : " Let me see you had a
green silk dress made at Digby three
summers ago, didn't you ? ”
THE LONG ARM. 25
" Yes, " I said.

"Well," said she, " why don't you
have it dyed black ? Those thin silks
dye real nice. It would make you a
good dress. "
I scarcely replied, and then she of-
fered to dye it for me herself. She had
a recipe, which she had used with great
success. I thought it very kind of her,
but did not say whether I would accept
her offer or not. I could not fix my
mind upon anything but the awful

trouble I was in.
" I'll come over and get it to-morrow

morning," said Phoebe.
I thanked her. I thought of the
stains, and then my mind seemed to

wander away again to the one object.
All the time Maria Woods sat weep-
ing. Finally Phoebe turned to her

with impatience. " If you can't keep
calmer, you'd better go upstairs,
Maria," said she. " You'll make Sarah
sick. Look at her ! She doesn't give
way and think of the reason she's got."

26 THE LONG ARM.
" I've got reason , too, " Maria broke

out ; then, with a piteous shriek : " Oh,
I've got reason ! "
" Maria Woods, go out of the room ! "
said Phoebe. Her sharpness made me
jump, half dazed as I was.
Maria got up without a word and
went out of the room , bending almost
double with convulsive sobs.
66
' She's been dreadful worked up
over your father's death, " said Phoebe
calmly, going on with the fitting.

" She's terribly nervous. Sometimes
I have to be real sharp with her, for

her own good."
I nodded. Maria Woods has
always been considered a sweet,
weakly, dependent woman , and
Phoebe Dole is undoubtedly very fond
of her. She has seemed to shield her
and take care of her nearly all her life.
The two have lived together since
they were young girls.
Phoebe is tall and very pale and
thin ; but she never has a day's illness.
THE LONG ARM. 27
She is plain, yet there is a kind of

severe goodness and faithfulness about
her colorless face, with the smooth
bands of white hair over her ears.
I went home as soon as my dress

was fitted. That evening Henry Ellis
came over to see me. I do not need
to go into details concerning that visit.

It is enough to say that he tendered
the fullest sympathy and protection,
and I accepted them. I cried a little,
for the first time, and he soothed and
comforted me.
Henry had driven over from Digby

and tied his horse in the yard. At
ten o'clock he bade me good-night on
the doorstep, and was just turning
his buggy around when Mrs. Adams
came running to the door.
" Is this yours ? " said she, and she
held out a knot of yellow ribbon.
" Why, that's the ribbon you have
around your whip , Henry," said I.
He looked at it. "So it is," he
said . "I must have dropped it. " He
28 THE LONG ARM.
put it into his pocket and drove

away.
" He didn't drop that ribbon to-
night ! " said Mrs. Adams. " I found
it, Wednesday morning, out in the

yard. I thought I remembered seeing
him have a yellow ribbon on his whip. "
CHAPTER III.
SUSPICION IS NOT PROOF.
WHEN Mrs. Adams told me that she
had picked up Henry's whip ribbon

.
Wednesday morning I said nothing,
but thought that Henry must have
driven over Tuesday evening after all,
and even come up into the yard,
although the house was shut up and

I in bed, to get a little nearer to me.
I felt conscience-stricken because I
could not help a thrill of happiness,

when my father lay dead in the house.
My father was buried as privately
and quietly as we could bring it about.
THE LONG ARM. 29
But it was a terrible ordeal. Mean-

time word came from Vermont that
Rufus Bennett had been arrested on
his farm . He was perfectly willing to
come back with the officers, and,
indeed, had not the slightest trouble

in proving that he was at his home in
Vermont when the murder took place.
He proved by several witnesses that
he was out of the State long before
.
my father and I sat on the step
together that evening, and that he
proceeded directly to his home as fast
as the train and stagecoach could
carry him.
The screwdriver with which the
deed was supposed to have been com-

mitted was found, by the neighbor
from whom it had been borrowed, in
his wife's bureau drawer. It had been
returned, and she had used it to
put up a picture-hook in her chamber.
Bennett was discharged, and returned
to Vermont.
Then Mrs. Adams told of her finding
30 THE LONG ARM.
the yellow ribbon from Henry Ellis'

whip, and he was arrested, since he was
held to have a motive for putting my
father out of the world. Father's oppo-
sition to our marriage was well known ,

and Henry was suspected also of having
had an eye to his money. It was found,
indeed, that my father had more money
than I had known myself.
Henry owned to having driven into
our yard that night, and to having
missed the ribbon from his whip on his
return ; but one of the hostlers in the
livery stable in Digby, where he kept

his horse and buggy, came forward and
testified to finding the yellow ribbon in
the carriage-room that Tuesday night
before Henry returned from his drive.
There were two yellow ribbons in evi-
dence, therefore, and the one produced
by the hostler seemed to fit Henry's
whipstock the more exactly.
Moreover, nearly the exact minute of
the murder was claimed to be proved by
the post-mortem examination ; and by
THE LONG ARM. 31
the testimony of the stableman as to the

hour of Henry's return and the speed
of his horse he was further cleared of
suspicion ; for, if the opinion of the

medical experts was correct, Henry
must have returned to the livery stable
too soon to have committed the murder.
He was discharged , at any rate,

although suspicion still clung to him.
Many people believe now in his guilt-
those who do not believe in mine ; and
some believe we were accomplices.
After Henry's discharge I was ar
rested. There was no one else left to
accuse. There must be a motive for
the murder ; I was the only person left
with a motive. Unlike the others, who
were discharged after a preliminary

examination , I was held to the grand
jury and taken to Dedham, where I
spent four weeks in jail, awaiting the
meeting of the grand jury.
Neither at the preliminary examina-
tion nor before the Grand Jury was I
allowed to make the full and frank
32 THE LONG ARM.
statement that I am making here. I

was told simply to answer the ques-
tions that were put to me, and to vol-
unteer nothing, and I obeyed .
I know nothing about law. I wished
to do the best I could- to act in the
wisest manner, for Henry's sake and

my own. I said nothing about the
green silk dress . They searched the
house for all manner of things, at the
time of my arrest, but the dress was
not there— it was in Phoebe Dole's dye-
kettle. She had come over after it
herself one day when I was picking
beans in the garden, and had taken it
out of the closet.She brought it back
herself and told me this, after I had
returned from Dedham .
" I thought I'd get it and surprise

you," said she. " It's taken a beautiful
black. "
She gave me a strange look : half as
if she would see into my very soul, in
spite of me, half as if she were in terror
of what she would see there, as she
THE LONG ARM. 33
spoke. I do not know just what

Phoebe Dole's look meant. There may
have been a stain left on that dress
after all, and she may have seen it.

I suppose if it had not been for that
flour paste which I had learned to
make, I should have been hung for
the murder of my own father. As it
was, the Grand Jury found no bill
against me, because there was abso-
lutely no evidence to convict me ; and
I came home a free woman. And
if people were condemned for their

motives, would there be enough hang-
men in the world ?
They found no weapon with which

I could have done the deed. They
found no blood-stains on my clothes.
The one thing which told against me,
aside from my ever-present motive, was
the fact that on that morning after the
murder the doors and windows were
fastened. My volunteering that infor-
mation had, of course , weakened its
force as against myself.
34 THE LONG ARM.
Then, too, some held that I might

have been mistaken in my terror and
excitement, and there was a theory,
advanced by a few, that the murderer
had meditated making me also a vic-
tim, and had locked the doors that he
might not be frustrated in his designs ,
but had lost heart at the last and
allowed me to escape, and then fled

himself. Some held that he had in-
tended to force me to reveal the
whereabouts of father's money, but his
courage had failed him.
Father had quite a sum in a hiding
place which only he and I knew. But
no search for money had been made ,
so far as anyone could see- not a
bureau drawer had been disturbed , and
father's gold watch was ticking peace-
fully under his pillow ; even his wallet
in his vest pocket had not been opened.
There was a small roll of banknotes
in it, and some change ; father never

carried much money. I suppose, if
father's wallet and watch had been
THE LONG ARM. 35
taken , I should not have been suspected

at all.
I was discharged, as I have said,
from lack of evidence , and have re-
turned to my home, free, indeed, but
with this awful burden of suspicion
upon my shoulders. That brings me

up to the present day. I returned yes.
terday evening. This evening Henry
Ellis has been over to see me ; he will
not come again, for I have forbidden him
to do so. This is what I said to him :
" I know you are innocent , you know
I am innocent. To all the world we
are under suspicion- I more than you,

but we are both under suspicion . If
we are known to be together, that sus-
picion is increased for both of us. I
do not care for myself, but I do care

for you. Separated from me, the
stigma attached to you will soon fade
away, especially if you should marry
elsewhere."
Then Henry interrupted me. “ I will

never marry elsewhere ! " said he.
36 THE LONG ARM.
I could not help being glad that he

said it, but I was firm.
" If you should see some good
woman whom you can love, it will be
better for you to marry elsewhere,"
said I.
" I never will ! " he said again. He

put his arms around me, but I had
strength to push him away.
66
You never need, if I succeed in
what I undertake before you meet the
other," said I. I began to think he
had not cared for that pretty girl who
boarded in the same house, after all.
"6 64
What is that ? " he said. What
are you going to undertake ? "
" To find my father's murderer,"
said I.
Henry gave me a strange look ; then,

before I could stop him, he took me
fast in his arms and kissed my fore-
head.
"As God is my witness, Sarah , I

believe in your innocence," he said.
And from that minute I have felt sus-
THE LONG ARM. 37
tained and fully confident of my power

to do what I have undertaken .
My father's murderer I will find.
To-morrow I begin my search . I shall
first make an exhaustive examination
of the house, such as no officer in the
case has yet made, in the hope of find-
ing a clew. Every room I propose to
divide into square yards, by line and
measure, and every one of those square
yards I will study as if it were a prob-
lem in algebra .
I have a theory that it is impossible

for any human being to enter any
house and commit in it a deed of this
kind and not leave behind traces which
are as the known quantities in an alge-

braic equation to those who can use
them .
There is a chance that I shall not be
quite unaided. Henry has promised

not to come again until I bid him , but
he is to send a detective here from
Boston- one whom he knows. In
fact, the man is a cousin of his, or else

G
38 THE LON ARM .
there would be small hope of our

securing him, even if I were to offer
him a large price.
The man has been remarkably suc-
cessful in several cases, but his health
is not good ; the work is a severe
strain upon his nerves , and he is not

driven to it by any lack of money.
The physicians had forbidden him to

undertake any new case, for a year at
least, but Henry is confident that we
may reply upon him for this.
I will now lay this aside and go

to bed. To-morrow is Wednesday ;
my father will have been dead seven
weeks. To-morrow morning I com-
mence the work, in which, if it be in
human power, aided by a higher wis-
dom, I shall succeed .
THE LONG ARM. 39
CHAPTER IV.
THE BOX OF CLEWS.
THE pages which follow are from

Miss Fairbanks' journal, begun after
the conclusion of the notes already
given to the reader.
Wednesday Night. - I have resolved

to record carefully each day the prog-
ress I make in my examination of the
house. I began to-day at the bottom
—that is, with the room least likely to
contain any clew, the parlor. I took a
chalk line and a yard stick, and divided
the floor into square yards , and every
one of these squares I examined on
my hands and knees. I found in this
way literally nothing on the carpet but
dust, lint, two common white pins, and
three inches of blue sewing silk.
At last I got the dust-pan and brush,
and yard by yard swept the floor. I
took the sweepings in a white paste-

40 THE LONG ARM.
board box out into the yard in the

strong sunlight, and examined them.
There was nothing but dust and lint
and five inches of brown woolen thread
-evidently a raveling from some dress.
material. The blue silk and the brown
thread are the only possible clews
which I have found to-day, and they
are hardly possible. Rufus' wife can
probably account for them . I have
written to her about them .
Nobody has come to the house all
day. I went down to the store this
afternoon to get some necessary pro-
visions, and people stopped talking

when I came in. The clerk took my
money as if it were poison .

Thursday Night-To-day I have
searched the sitting room, out of which
my father's bedroom opens. I found
two bloody footprints on the carpet
which no one had noticed before-
perhaps because the carpet itself is red
and white. I used a microscope which
I had in my school work. The foot-
THE LONG ARM. 41
prints, which are close to the bedroom

door, pointing out into the sitting
room , are both from the right foot ;
one is brighter than the other, but
both are faint. The foot was evidently
either bare or clad only in a stocking
-the prints are so widely spread.
They are wider than my father's
shoes. I tried one in the brightest
print.
I found nothing else new in the sit-
ting room . The blood-stains on the
doors, which have been already noted,

are still there. They had not been
washed away, first by order of the
sheriff, and next by mine. These
stains are of two kinds ; one looks as
if made by a bloody garment brushing
against it ; the other, I should say,
was made in the first place by the
grasp of a bloody hand, and then
brushed over with a cloth. There are
none of these marks upon the door

leading into the front entry and the
china closet. The china closet is really
42 THE LONG ARM.
a pantry, although I use it only for my

best dishes and preserves .
Friday Night. -To-day I searched

the closet. One of the shelves, which
is about as high as my shoulders, was

bloodstained. It looked to me as if
the murderer might have caught hold

of it to steady himself. Did he turn
faint, after his dreadful deed ? Some
tumblers of jelly were ranged on that
shelf and they had not been disturbed .
There was only that bloody clutch on
the edge .
I found on this closet floor, under
the shelves, as if it had been rolled
there by a careless foot, a button, evi-
dently from a man's clothing. It is an
ordinary black enameled metal trousers
button ; it had evidently been worn off
and clumsily sewn on again, for a
quantity of stout white thread is still
clinging to it. This button must have
belonged either to a single man or to
one with an idle wife.
If one black button has been sewn
THE LONG ARM. 43
on with white thread another is likely

to be. I may be wrong, but I regard
this button as a clew.
The pantry was thoroughly swept-

cleaned, indeed, by Rufus' wife the day
before she left. Neither my father
nor Rufus could have dropped it there ,
and they never had occasion to go to
the closet. The murderer dropped
the button.
I have a white pasteboard box
which I have marked , " Clews. " In it
I have put the button.

This afternoon Phoebe Dole came in.
She is very kind. She has recut the
dyed silk, and she fitted it to me.
Her great shears, clicking in my ears,

made me nervous. I did not feel like
stopping to think about clothes. I
hope I did not appear ungrateful, for

she is the only soul besides Henry who
has treated me as before this happened.
Phoebe asked me what I found to
busy myself about, and I replied , “ I

am searching for my father's murderer."
44 THE LONG ARM.
She asked if I thought I should find

"?
a clew, and I replied, " I think so.'
I had found the button then, but I did
not speak of it. She said Maria was
not very well.
I saw her eying the stains on the
doors, and I said I had not washed
them off, for I thought they might
yet serve a purpose in detecting the
murderer. She looked at those on the
entry door- the brightest ones—and

said she did not see how they could
help, for there were no plain finger-
marks there, and she should think
they would make me nervous.
" I'm beyond being nervous, " said I.
Saturday.- To - day I have found
something which I cannot understand.
I have been at work in the room where
my father came to his dreadful end.
Of course some of the most startling

evidences have been removed. The
bed is clean , and the carpet washed,

but the worst horror of it all clings
to that room. The spirit of murder
THE LONG ARM. 45
seems to haunt it. It seemed to me

at first that I could not enter that
room, but in it I made a strange dis-

covery .
My father, while he carried little
money about his person , was in the
habit of keeping considerable sums in
the house ; there is no bank within ten
miles. However, he was wary ; he
had a hiding place which he had re-

vealed to no one but myself. He had
a small stand in his room near the
head of his bed. Under this stand, or
rather under the top of it, he had
tacked a large leather wallet , In this
he kept all his spare money. I re-
member how his eyes twinkled when

he showed it to me.
"The average mind thinks things

have either got to be in or on, " said
my father. 66
They don't consider
there's ways of getting around gravita-
tion and calculation."
In searching my father's room I

called to mind that saying of his, and
NG M
46 THE LO AR .
his peculiar system of concealing, and

then I made my discovery. I have
argued that in a search of this kind I
ought not only to search for hidden
traces of the criminal, but for every-
thing which had been for any reason

concealed. Something which my
father himself has hidden, something
from his past history, may furnish a

motive for someone else.
The money in the wallet under the

table, some five hundred dollars, had
been removed and deposited in the
bank. Nothing more was to be found
there. I examined the bottom of the
bureau, and the undersides of the chair
seats. There are two chairs in the
room , besides the cushioned rocker-
green-painted wooden chairs, with flag

seats. I found nothing under the
seats.
Then I turned each of the green
chairs completely over, and examined

the bottoms of the legs. My heart
leaped when I found a bit of leather
THE LONG ARM. 47
nicely tacked over one. I got the

tack hammer and drew the tacks.
The chair leg had been hollowed out,
and for an inch the hole was packed
tight with cotton . I began picking

out the cotton, and soon I felt some-
thing hard. It proved to be an old-
fashioned gold band, quite wide and
heavy, like a wedding ring.
I took it over to the window and
found this inscription on the inside :
" Let love abide forever. " There were
two dates - one in August, forty years
ago, and the other in August of this
present year.
I think the ring has never been
worn ; while the first part of the
inscription is perfectly clear it looks
old, and the last is evidently freshly
cut.
This could not have been my
mother's ring. She had only her wed-
ding ring, and that was buried with
her. I think my father must have
treasured up this ring for years ; but
G M
48 THE LON AR .
why? What does it mean ? This can

hardly be a clew ; this can hardly lead
to the discovery of a motive, but I will
put it in the box with the rest.
Sunday Night. - To-day, of course, I
did not pursue my search. I did not
go to church. I could not face old
friends that could not face me. Some-
times I think that everybody in my
native village believes in my guilt.
What must I have been in my general
appearance and demeanor all my life ?
I have studied myself in the glass , and
tried to discover the possibilities of
evil that they must see in my face.
This afternoon , about three o'clock ,
the hour when people here have just
finished their Sunday dinner, there
I
was a knock on the north door. I
answered it, and a strange young man
stood there with a large book under
his arm . He was thin and cleanly
shaved, with a clerical air.
" I have a work here to which I
would like to call your attention," he
THE LONG ARM. 49
began ; and I stared at him in as-

tonishment, for why should a book
agent be peddling his wares upon the
Sabbath ?
His mouth twitched a little. " It's
a Biblical Cyclopedia ," said he.

" I don't think I care to take it,"
said I.
" You are Miss Sarah Fairbanks, I
believe ? "
" That is my name, " I replied stiffly.
" Mr. Henry Ellis of Digby sent
me here," he said next. " My name is
.
Dix-Francis Dix."
Then I knew that he was Henry's
cousin from Boston-the detective
who had come to help me. I felt
tears coming to my eyes. " You are
very kind to come," I managed to say.

"I am very selfish, not kind," he
returned, " but you had better let me
come in, or my chance of success in
my book agency is lost, if the neigh-
bors see me trying to sell it on a Sun-
day. And, Miss Fairbanks , this is a
50 THE LONG ARM.
bona fide agency. I shall canvass the
town ."
He came in . I showed him all this
that I have written, and he read it
carefully. When he had finished he
sat still for a long time , with his face

screwed up in a peculiar, meditative
fashion.
"We'll ferret this out in three days
at the most," said he finally, with a
sudden clearing of his face and a flash
of his eyes at me.

"I had planned for three years,
perhaps," said I.
"I tell we'll do it in three
you,
66 Where can
days," he repeated . I
get board while I canvass for this
remarkable and interesting book
under my arm ? I can't stay here, of
course , and there is no hotel. Do you
think the two dressmakers next door,
Phoebe Dole and the other one, would
take me in ?"
I said they had never taken
boarders .
THE LONG ARM. 51
་་
Well , I'll go over and inquire,"
said Mr. Dix ; and he had gone, with
his book under his arm , almost before
I knew it.
Never have I seen anyone act with
the strange, noiseless, soft speed that
this man does. Can he prove me
innocent in three days ? He must
have succeeded in getting board at
Phoebe Dole's, for I saw him go past
to meeting with her this evening. I

feel sure he will be over very early to-
morrow morning.
CHAPTER V.
THE EVIDENCE POINTS TO ONE.
MONDAY NIGHT. The detective

came as I expected. I was up as
soon as it was light, and he came
across the dewy fields with his Cyclo-
pedia under his arm. He had stolen
out of Phoebe Dole's back door.
He had me bring my father's pistol ;

52 THE LONG ARM.
then he bade me come with him out
into the backyard. " Now fire it," he

said, thrusting the pistol into my
hands. As I have said before, the
charge was still in the barrel.
" I shall arouse the neighborhood ," I
said .
" Fire it ! " he ordered.
I tried ; I pulled the trigger as hard

as I could.
" I can't do it," I said.
""
And you are a reasonably strong
woman, too ; aren't you ? "
I said I had been considered so. Oh,
much have I heard about the strength
of my poor woman's arms , and their
ability to strike that murderous weapon
home !
Mr. Dix took the pistol himself, and
drew a little at the trigger. " I could
do it," he said, " but I won't. It would
arouse the neighborhood. "
" This is more evidence against me, "
I said despairingly. "The murderer
had tried to fire the pistol and failed ."

THE LONG ARM. 53
" It is more evidence against the

murderer," said Mr. Dix,
We went into the house, where he
examined my box of clews long and
carefully. Looking at the ring, he
asked whether there was a jeweler in
this village, and I said there was not.
I told him that my father oftener went
on business to Acton , ten miles away,
than elsewhere.
He examined very carefully the but-

ton which I found in the closet, and
then asked to see my father's wardrobe.
That was soon done. Besides the suit
in which father was laid away, there
was one other complete one in the
closet in his room. Besides that, there
were in this closet two overcoats, an
old black frock coat, a pair of pep-
per-and-salt trousers, and two black
vests. Mr. Dix examined all the but-
tons ; not one was missing.

There was still another old suit in
the closet off the kitchen . This was
examined, and no button found wanting.
54 THE LONG ARM.
" What did your father do for work

the day before he died ? " he asked
then. I reflected, and said that he had
unpacked some stores which had come
down from Vermont, and done some
work out in the garden.
"What did he wear? "
" I think he wore the pepper-and-salt
trousers and the black vest. He wore
no coat while at work."
Mr. Dix went quickly back to father's

room and his closet , I following. He
took out the gray trousers and the black
vest, and examined them closely.
" What did he wear to protect these ? "
he asked.
"Why, he wore overalls ! " I said at
once. As I spoke I remembered see-
ing father go around the path to the

yard, with those blue overalls drawn up
high under the arms.
"Where are they ? "
'Weren't they in the kitchen closet ? "
" No."
We looked again, however, in the

THE LONG ARM. 55
kitchen closet ; we searched the shed
thoroughly. The cat came in through

her little door, as we stood there, and
brushed around our feet. Mr. Dix
stooped and stroked her. Then he
went quickly to the door, beside which
her little entrance was arranged , un-
hooked it and stepped out. I was fol-
lowing him, but he motioned me back.

" None of my boarding mistress'
windows command us," he said, " but
she might come to her back door. "
I watched him . He passed slowly
along the little winding footpath which

skirted the rear of our house and ex-
tended faintly through the grassy field

to the rear of Phoebe Dole's. He
stopped, searched a clump of sweet-

briar, went on to an old well, and
stopped there. The well has been dry
many a year, and was choked up with
stones and rubbish. Some boards are
laid over it, and a big stone or two, to
keep them in place.
Mr. Dix, glancing across at Phoebe
56 THE LONG ARM.
Dole's back door, went down on his

knees, rolled the stones away, then re-
moved the boards, and peered down

the well. He stretched far over the
brink and reached down . He made
many efforts ; then he got up and came
to me, and asked me to get for him an
umbrella with a crooked handle , or
something that he could hook into
clothing.
I brought my own umbrella, the
silver handle of which formed an exact
hook. He went back to the well,
knelt again , thrust in the umbrella and

drew up, easily enough, what he had
been fishing for. Then he came ,
bringing it to me.
" Don't faint !" he said , and took hold
of my arm . I gasped when I saw what
he had my father's blue overalls, all
stained and splotched with blood !
I looked at them, then at him.
" Don't faint ! " he said again.
"We're on the right track. This is

where the button came from. See ? "
THE LONG ARM. 57
He pointed to one of the straps of the

overalls, and the button was gone.
Some white thread clung to it. Another

black metal button was sewed on
roughly with the same white thread I
had found on the button in my box of
clews.
What does it mean ? " I gasped
out. My brain reeled.
" You shall know soon," he said.
He looked at his watch. Then he laid
down the ghastly bundle he carried .

“ It has puzzled you to know how the
murderer went in and out, and yet kept
the doors locked , has it not ? " he said.
" Yes."
"Well, I am going out now. Hook

that door after me."
He went out , still carrying my um-
brella. I hooked the door. Presently
I saw the lid of the cat's door lifted,
and his hand and arm thrust through .
He curved his arm up toward the
hook, but it came short by a half-foot.
Then he withdrew his arm, and thrust
G
58 THE LON ARM .
in my silver-handled umbrella. He
reached the door-hook easily enough
with that.
Then he hooked it again. That was
not so easy- he had to work a long
time. Finally he accomplished it, un-
hooked the door again , and came in .
" That was how ? " I said.
" No, it was not, " he returned. " No
human being, fresh from such a deed,

could have used such patience as that
to fasten the door after him. Please
hang your arm down by your side. "

I obeyed. I looked at my arm, then
at his own.
" Have you a tape measure ?" he
asked .
I brought one out of my work

basket. He measured his arm , then
mine, and then the distance from the
cat-door to the hook.
" I have two tasks for you to-day
and to-morrow," he said. " I shall
come here very little. Find all your

father's old letters and read them.
THE LONG ARM. 59
Find a man or woman in this town

whose arm is six inches longer than
yours. Now I must go home, or my
boarding mistress will get curious."
He went through the house to the
front door, looked all ways to be sure
no eyes were upon him, made three
strides down the yard, and was pacing
soberly up the street with his Cyclo-
pedia under his arm.
I made myself a cup of coffee ; then
I went about obeying his instructions.
I read old letters all the forenoon ; I
found packages in trunks in the gar-
ret-there were quantities in father's
desk. I have selected several to sub-
mit to Mr. Dix. One of them treats
of an old episode in father's youth,

which must have years since ceased to
interest him. It was concealed after
his favorite fashion - tacked under the
bottom of his desk. It was written
forty years ago, by Maria Woods-
two years before my father's marriage
-and it was a refusal of an offer of
60 THE LONG ARM.
his hand. It was written in the stilted

fashion of that day ; it might have
been copied from a " complete letter
writer. "
My father must have loved Maria

Woods as dearly as I love Henry to
keep that letter so carefully all these
years. I thought he cared for my
mother. He seemed as fond of her as
other men of their wives, although I
did use to wonder if Henry and I
would ever get to be quite so much
.
accustomed to each other.
Maria Woods must have been as
beautiful as an angel when she was a

girl. Mother was not pretty- she was
stout, too, and awkward, and I sup-
pose people would have called her
rather slow and dull . But she was a
good woman and tried to do her duty.

Tuesday Evening. -This evening
was my first opportunity to obey the
second of Mr. Dix's orders. It
seemed to me the best way to compare
the average length of arms was to go

THE LONG ARM. 61
to the prayer meeting. I could not go

about the town with my tape measure
and demand of people that they
should hold out their arms. Nobody
knows how I dreaded to go to that
meeting, but I went, and I looked not
at my neighbors ' cold, altered faces,
but at their arms.
I discovered what Mr. Dix wished
me to, but the discovery can avail
nothing, and it is one he could have
made himself. Phoebe Dole's arm is
fully seven inches longer than mine.
I never noticed it before, but she has
an almost abnormally long arm. But
why should Phoebe Dole have un-

hooked that door ?
She made a prayer-a beautiful

prayer ; it comforted even me a little.
She spoke of the tenderness of God
in all the troubles of life, and how it
never failed us.
When we were all going out I

heard several persons speak of Mr.
Dix and his Biblical Cyclopedia. They
62 THE LONG ARM.
decided that he was a theological

student, book canvassing to defray the
expenses of his education .
Maria Woods was not at the meet-
ing. Several asked Phoebe how she

was, and she replied, " Not very well."
It was very late. I thought Mr. Dix
might be over to-night, but he has
not been here.
Wednesday. I can scarcely believe
what I am about to write. Our in-
vestigations seem all to point to one
person, and that person-it is in-
credible ! I will not believe it. Mr.
Dix came as before, at dawn. He
reported, and I reported. I showed
Maria Woods' letter. He said he
had driven to Acton and found that
the jeweler there had engraved the

last date in the ring about six weeks
ago.
" I don't want to seem rough, but
your father was going to get married
again," said Mr. Dix.
" I never knew him to go near any
THE LONG ARM. 63.
woman since mother died," I pro-

tested.
" Nevertheless he had made arrange-
ments to be married, " persisted Mr.

Dix.
"Who was the woman ? "
He pointed at the letter in my hand.

" Maria Woods ? "
He nodded.
I stood looking at him-dazed.

Such a possibility had never entered
my head.
He produced an envelope from his

pocket, and took out a little card with
blue and brown threads neatly wound
upon it. " Let me see those threads
you found," he said.
I got the box, and we compared

them. He had a number of pieces of
blue sewing silk and brown woolen
ravelings, and they matched mine
exactly. " Where did you find them?"
I asked.
" In my boarding mistress' piece-

bag."
64 THE LONG ARM.
I stared at him. "What does it

mean ?" I gasped out.
"What do you think ?"
" It is impossible ! "
CHAPTER VI .
THE REVELATION.
WEDNESDAY continued ).
(continued
( ) . — When
Mr. Dix thus suggested to me the
absurd possibility that Phoebe Dole had
committed the murder, he and I were
sitting in the kitchen. He was near

the table ; he laid a sheet of paper
upon it and began to write. The paper
is before me.
" First," said Mr. Dix, and he wrote
as he talked, " whose arm is of such
length that it might unlock and lock a
certain door of this house from the
outside ? Phoebe Dole's.
" Second, who had in her piece-bag
bits of the same threads and ravelings
found upon your parlor floor, where
1
THE LONG ARM. 65
she had not by your knowledge

entered ? Phœbe Dole.
66
Third, who interested herself most
strangely in your blood-stained green
silk dress, even to dyeing it ? Phœbe

Dole.
" Fourth, who was caught in a lie,
while trying to force the guilt of the
murder upon an innocent man ?
Phœbe Dole."
Mr. Dix looked at me. I had gath-
ered myself together. " That proves

nothing," I said. " There is no motive
in her case. "
" There is a motive."
"What is it ? "
Maria Woods shall tell you this
afternoon. "
He then wrote :
" Fifth, who was seen to throw a
bundle down the old well, in the rear
of Martin Fairbanks' house, at one
o'clock in the morning ? Phoebe Dole. "

"Was she- seen ? " I gasped. Mr.
Dix nodded. Then he wrote :
66 THE LONG ARM.
" Sixth, who had a strong motive,

which had been in existence many
years ago ? Phoebe Dole."
Mr. Dix laid down his pen and

looked at me again. 66'Well, what have
you to say ?" he asked.

" It is impossible . "
""
Why ?"
"" She is a woman."
" A man could have fired that pistol,

as she tried to do."
" It would have taken a man's
strength to kill with the kind of weapon

that was used, " I said.
"No, it would not. No great
strength is required for such a blow. "
" But she is a woman ! "
"Crime has no sex."
" But she is a good woman, a church
member. I heard her pray yesterday
afternoon. It is not in character. "
"It is not for you , nor for me, nor

for any mortal intelligence to know
what is, or is not in character, " said
Mr. Dix.
THE LONG ARM. 67
He arose and went away. I could

only stare at him in a half-dazed
manner.
Maria Woods came this afternoon ,
taking advantage of Phoebe's absence
on a dressmaking errand . Maria has
aged ten years in the last few weeks.
Her hair is white, her cheeks are fallen
in, her pretty color is gone.
66
May I have the ring-he gave me—
forty years ago ?" she faltered.
I gave it to her ; she kissed it and
sobbed like a child, " Phœbe took it
away from me before," she said, " but
she shan't this time."
Maria related, with piteous little sobs,

the story of her long subordination to
Phœbe Dole. This sweet, child-like
woman had always been completely

under the sway of the other's stronger
nature. The subordination went back
beyond my father's original proposal

to her ; she had, before he made
love to her as a girl, promised Phœbe

she would not marry, and it was Phœbe
68 THE LONG ARM.
who had, by representing to her that

she was bound by this solemn promise,
led her to write the letter to my father
declining his offer, and sending back
the ring.
" And after all, we were going to get
married, if he had not-died," she said.
" He was going to give me this ring
again, and he had had the other date
put in. I should have been so happy !"
She stopped, and stared at me with
horror-stricken inquiry.
"What was Phoebe doing out in
your back yard at one o'clock that
night ?" she cried.
""
' What do you mean ? " I returned .
" I saw Phoebe come out of your
back shed door at one o'clock that very
night. She had a bundle in her arms.

She went along the path about as far
as the old well ; then she stooped down,
and seemed to be working at some-
thing. When she got up, she didn't

have the bundle. I was watching at
our back door. I thought I heard her

THE LONG ARM. 69
go out a little while before, and went

downstairs, and found that door un-
locked. I went in quick, and up to
my chamber, and into my bed, when

she started home across the field.
Pretty soon I heard her come in ; then

I heard the pump going. She slept
downstairs ; she went on to her bed-
room. What was she doing in your
back yard that night ? "

"You must ask her," said I. I felt
my blood running cold.
" I've been afraid to," moaned Maria
Woods. " She's been dreadful strange
lately. I wish that book agent was
going to stay at our house. "
Maria Woods went home in about
an hour. I got a ribbon for her, and
she has my poor father's ring concealed

in her withered bosom. Again, I
cannot believe this.
Thursday. - It is all over ; Phœbe
Dole has confessed ! I do not know
now in exactly what way Mr. Dix

brought it about-how he accused her
70 THE LONG ARM.
of her crime. After breakfast I saw

them coming across the field. Phobe
came first, advancing with rapid strides
like a man ; Mr. Dix followed, and my
father's poor old sweetheart tottered
behind, with her handkerchief at her
eyes. Just as I noticed them the front
door bell rang ; I found several people
there, headed by the high sheriff. They
crowded into the sitting room, just as
Phoebe Dole came rushing in , with Mr.
Dix and Maria Woods.
" I did it !" Phoebe cried out to me.
" I am found out, and I have made up

my mind to confess. She was going to
marry your father-I found it out. I
stopped it once before. This time I
knew I couldn't, unless I killed him.
She's lived with me in that house for
over forty years. There are other ties
as strong as the marriage one, that are

just as sacred ! What right had he to
take her away from me and break up
my home ?
" I overheard your father and Rufus
THE LONG ARM. 71
Bennett having words. I thought

folks would think he did it. I rea-
soned it all out. I had watched your
cat go in that little door. I knew the
shed door unhooked ; I knew how long
my arm was ; I thought I could undo it.
I stole over here a little after midnight.
I went all round the house to be sure
nobody was awake. Out in the front
yard I happened to think my shears
were tied on my belt with a ribbon,
and I untied them. I thought I put
the ribbon in my pocket, -it was a
piece of yellow ribbon, -but I suppose
I didn't, because they found it after-
ward, and thought it came off your
young man's whip.
" I went round to the shed door,
unhooked it, and went in.The moon
gave light enough. I got out your

father's overalls from the kitchen closet ;
I knew where they were. I went
through the sitting room to the parlor.

In there I slipped off my dress and my
skirts and put on the overalls. I put a
72 THE LONG ARM.
handkerchief over my face, leaving only

my eyes exposed. I crept out then
into the sitting room ; there I pulled off
my shoes and went into the bedroom.
" Your father was fast asleep ; it was
such a hot night the clothes were
thrown back and his chest was bare.
The first thing I saw was that pistol on

the stand beside his bed. I suppose he
had had some fear of Rufus Bennett
coming back after all. Suddenly I
thought I'd better shoot him. It would
be surer and quicker ; and, if you were
aroused , I knew that I could get away
and everybody would suppose he had

shot himself .
" I took up the pistol and held it

close to his head. I had never fired a
pistol, but I knew how it was done. I
pulled, but it would not go off. Your
father stirred a little- I was mad with
terror- I struck at his head with the
pistol. He opened his eyes and cried

out ; then I dropped the pistol and took
these "--Phoebe Dole pointed to the
THE LONG ARM. 73
great shining shears hanging at her

waist-"for I am strong in my wrists.
I only struck twice , over his heart.

" Then I went back into the sitting
room . I thought I heard a noise in
the kitchen- I was full of terror then-
and slipped into the sitting-room closet.

I felt as if I were fainting, and clutched
the shelf to keep from falling.
" I felt that I must go up stairs to
see if you were asleep -to be sure you
had not waked up when your father
cried out. I thought, if you had, I
should have to do the same by you. I
crept upstairs to your chamber. You
seemed asleep, but, as I watched, you
stirred a little. But instead of striking
at you I slipped into your closet. I
heard nothing more from you. I felt
myself wet with blood. I caught hold

of something hanging in your closet,
and wiped myself off with it. I knew
by the feeling it was your green silk.
You kept quiet and I saw you were
asleep, so I crept out of the closet and
74 THE LONG ARM.
down the stairs, got my clothes and

shoes, and, out in the shed, took off
the overalls and dressed myself. I
rolled up the overalls and took a board
away from the old well and threw them
in as I went home. I thought, if they

were found, it would be no clew to me.
The handkerchief, which was not much
stained, I put to soak that night and
washed out next morning before Maria
was up . I washed my hands and arms
carefully that night, and also my shears.
" I expected Rufus Bennett would
be accused of the murder, and maybe
hung. I was prepared for that, but I
did not like to think I had thrown
suspicion upon you by staining your

dress. I had nothing against you. I
made up my mind I'd get hold of that

dress, before anybody suspected you ,
and dye it black. I came in and got
it, as you know. I was astonished not
to see any more stains on it. I only
found two or three little streaks, that
scarcely anybody would have noticed.
THE LONG ARM. 75
I didn't know what to think. I sus-

pected, of course, that you had found
the stains and got them off, thinking
they might bring suspicion upon you.
" I did not see how you could possi-
bly suspect me, in any case. I was
glad when your young man was cleared.

I had nothing against him. That is
all I have to say. "
I think I must have fainted away
then. I cannot describe the dreadful
calmness with which that woman told
this-that woman with the good face,
whom I had last heard praying like a
saint, in meeting. I believe in demo-
niacal possession after this.
When I came to the neighbors were
around me, putting camphor on my
head, and saying soothing things to
me, and the old friendly faces had re-
turned. But I wish I could forget !
They have taken Phoebe Dole away
-I only know that. I cannot bear to
talk any more about it. When I think
there must be a trial, and I must go !

76 THE LONG ARM.
Henry has been over this evening.

I suppose we shall be happy after all,
when I have had a little time to get
over this. He says I have nothing to
worry about. Mr. Dix has gone home.
I hope Henry and I may be able to

repay his kindness some day.
A month later.- I have just heard

that Phoebe Dole has died in prison !
This is my last entry. May God help
all other innocent women in hard
straits as he has helped me !

*
THE MIRACLES. *
BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
I SENT a message to my dear—

A thousand leagues and more to
her-
The blind sea-levels thrilled to hear,
And Lost Atlantes bore to her.
Behind my message hard I came

And nigh had found a grave for me ;
But that I wrought of steel and flame
Did war against the wave for me.
Up rose the deep, by gale on gale,

To bid me change my mind again ;
He broke his teeth along my rail,
And roaring, swung behind again .

*Copyright, 1895, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.
77
78 THE MIRACLES.
I stayed the sun at noon to tell

My way across the waste of it ;
I read the storm before it fell
And made the better haste of it.
Afar I hailed the land by night,

The towers I built had heard of me,
And, ere my rocket reached its height,

Had flashed my love the word of me.
Earth gave her chiefest men of strength
(They lived and strove and died for

me)
To drive my road a nation's length
And toss the miles aside for me.
I spent their toil to serve my needs—

Too slow their fleetest flew for me-
I wearied twenty smoking steeds,

And bade them bait anew for me.
I sent the lightning forth to see

Where hour by hour she waited me.
Among ten million , one was she,
And surely all men hated me !
THE MIRACLES. 79
Dawn ran to meet me at my goal-

Ah, day, no tongue shall tell again !
And little folk of little soul
Rose up to buy and sell again !
MY WELL, AND WHAT CAME
OUT OF IT. *
(A Christmas Tale.)
BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.
EARLY in my married life I bought

a small country estate, which my wife
and I looked upon as a paradise .
After enjoying its delights for a little
more than a year our souls were sad-
dened by the discovery that our Eden
contained a serpent. This was an
insufficient water supply.
It had been a rainy season when we
first went there, and for a long time our
cisterns gave us full aqueous satisfac-
tion ; but early this year a drought had
* Copyright, 1893, by the Bacheller and Johnson Syndicate.
80
MY WELL. 81
set in, and we were obliged to be very

careful of our water supply.
It was quite natural that the scarcity

of water for domestic purposes should
affect my wife much more than it did

me ; and perceiving the discontent
which was growing in her mind, the
serpent came and whispered in her ear.
Very soon afterward she offered me an
apple ; I took it and ate thereof, and
my eyes being thereby opened , I de-
termined to dig a well.
As this well was to be made entirely
for the sake of my wife it should be
called her well ; it should really belong
to her. Happy
thought ! I would
make her a Christmas present of it !
It was true that it was then early in
the autumn, and the gift would be
ready to present some time before the
holiday season, but I knew my wife
would not object to that. It would be
such a rare gift ! I did not believe
that anybody ever before gave his wife
a Christmas present of a well.
82 MY WELL, AND WHAT
The very next day after I had eaten

of the apple I began to look for a well-
digger. Such an individual was not
easy to find, for in the region in which
I lived wells had become unfashionable,
but I determined to persevere in my
search, and in about a week I found a
well-digger.
He was a man of a somewhat rough
exterior, but of an ingratiating turn of
mind. It was easy to see that it was
his earnest desire to serve me.
" And now then, " said he, when we
had had a little conversation about
terms, " the first thing to do is to find
out where there is water. Have
you a peach tree on the place ? " We

walked to such a tree, and he cut there-
from a forked twig.
" I thought," said I , " that divining
rods were always of hazel wood. "
"A peach twig will do quite as
well," said he, and I have since found
that he was right. Divining rods of

peach will turn and find water quite as
CAME OUT OF IT. 83
well as those of hazel or any other

wood.
He took an end of the twig in each

hand, and, with the point projecting in
front of him, he slowly walked along
over the grass in my little orchard.
Presently the point of the twig seemed
to bend itself downward toward the
ground. " There, " said he, stopping ;

66' you will find water here."
" I do not want a well here, " said I ;

" this is at the bottom of a hill and my
barnyard is at the top ; besides, it is
too far from the house. "
66
Very good, " said he, " we will try
somewhere else."
His rod turned at several other
places, but I had objections to all of

them. A sanitary engineer had once
visited me, and he had given me a
great deal of advice about drainage,
and I knew what to avoid.
We crossed the ridge of the hill into
the low ground on its other side.
Here were buildings, nothing
which would interfere with the purity

of a well. My well-digger walked
slowly over the ground with his divin-
ing rod. Very soon he exclaimed :
" Here is water," and picking up a
stick, he sharpened one end of it and

drove it into the ground. Then he
took a string from his pocket ; and
making a loop in one end he put it
over the stick.
" What are you going to do ? " I

asked.
" I am going to make a circle four
feet in diameter," he said. " We have to
dig the well as wide as that, you know. "
" But I do not want a well here,"
said I. 66'It
is too close to the wall . I
could not build a house over it. It
would not do at all."
He stood up and looked at me.

" Well, sir," said he, " will you tell me
where you would like to have a well ? "
" Yes," said I. " I would like to
have it over there in the corner of the
hedge. It would be near enough to
CAME OUT OF IT. 85
the house. It would have a warm

exposure, which will be desirable in
winter, and the little house which I
intend to build over it would look
better there than anywhere else."
He took his divining rod and went
to the spot I had indicated . " Is this
the place ? " he asked, wishing to be

sure he had understood me.
"Yes," I replied, and he put his
twig in position and in a few seconds.
it turned in the direction of the
ground. Then he drove down a stick,
marked out a circle, and the next day
he came with two men and a derrick
and began to dig my well.

When they had gone down twenty-
five feet they had found water, and
when they had progressed a few feet
deeper they began to be afraid of
drowning. I thought they ought to
go deeper, but the well-digger said
that as they could not dig without first
taking out the water, and that as the
water came in as fast as they bailed it
out, he asked me to put it to myself

and to tell him how they could dig it
deeper. I put the question to myself,
but could find no answer. I also laid
the matter before some specialists, and
it was generally agreed that if water
came in as fast as it was taken out,
nothing more could be desired . The
well was, therefore, pronounced deep
enough. It was lined with great tiles,
nearly a yard in diameter, and my
well-digger, after congratulating me on
finding water so easily, bade me good-
by and departed with his men and his
derrick.
While he had been speaking to me
I had thought I heard a smile, and
turned my head quickly but saw no
one. It is true that people cannot
hear smiles, but what I heard was
something of a hissing nature, which,
while it could not have been a laugh,
had in it a suspicion of derision. It
might have been the creaking of the
departing derrick.
CAME OUT OF IT. 87
On the other side of the wall which
bounded my grounds, and near which

my well had been dug, there ran a
country lane, leading nowhere in par-
ticular ; and which seemed to be there
for the purpose of allowing people to
pass my house who might otherwise be
obliged to stop.
Along this lane my neighbors would
pass, and often strangers drove by, and
as my well could easily be seen over
the low stone wall, its making had
excited a great deal of interest. Some
of the people who drove by were
summer folks from the city, and I am
sure, from remarks I overheard, that it
was thought a very queer thing to dig

for water. Of course they must have
known that people used to do this in

the olden times, even so far back as
the time of Jacob and Rebecca, but
the expressions of some of their faces
indicated that they remembered that
this was the nineteenth century.
My neighbors, however, were all
rural people, and much more intelli-

gent in regard to water supplies. One
of them, Phineas Colwell by name,
took a more lively interest in my oper-
ations than did anyone else. He was
a man of about fifty years of age, who
had been a soldier. This fact was
kept alive in the minds of his associ-

ates by his dress, a part of which was
always military. If he did not wear
an old fatigue jacket with brass but-
tons, he wore his blue trousers, or
perhaps a waistcoat that belonged to
his uniform , and if he wore none of
these, his military hat would appear
upon his head. I think he must also
have been a sailor, judging from the

little gold rings in his ears. But when
I first knew him he was a carpenter
who did mason work, whenever any of
the neighbors had any jobs of the sort.

He also worked in gardens by the day,
and had told me that he understood
the care of horses, and was a very
good driver. He sometimes worked
CAME OUT OF IT. 89
on farms, especially at harvest time,

and I know he could paint, for he
once showed me a fence which he said
he had painted. I frequently saw him ,

because he always seemed to be either
going to his work or coming from it.
In fact he appeared to consider his
actual labor in the light of a bad habit
which he wished to conceal, and which he
was continually endeavoring to reform.
Phineas walked along our lane at
least once a day, and whenever he saw
me he told me something about the
well.He did not approve of the
place I had selected for it. If he had
been digging a well , he would have put
it in a very different place. When I
had talked with him for some time and
explained why I had chosen this spot,

he would say that perhaps I was right,
and begin to talk of something else.
But the next time I saw him he would
again assert that, if he had been dig-

ging that well, he would not have put
it there .
About a quarter of a mile from my

house, at a turn of the lane, lived Mrs.
Betty Perch. She was a widow with
about twelve children. A few of these
were her own, and the others she had
inherited from two sisters who had
married and died, and whose hus-
bands, having proved their disloyalty
by marrying again, were not allowed
.
by the indignant Mrs. Perch to resume
possession of their offspring. The
casual observer might have supposed
the number of these children to be
very great- fifteen , or perhaps even

twenty ; for if he happened to see a
group of them on the doorstep, he
would see a lot more if he looked into
the little garden ; and under some

cedar trees at the back of the house
there were always some of them on

fine days. But perhaps they sought
to increase their apparent number and
ran from one place to another to be
ready to meet observation , as the
famous clown, Grimaldi, who used to
CAME OUT OF IT. 91
go through his performances at one

London theater and then dash off in
his paint and motley to another, so

that a perambulating theater-going
man might imagine that there were

two greatest clowns in the world.
When Mrs. Perch had time she
sewed for the neighbors, and whether

she had time or not she was always
ready to supply them with news.

From the moment she heard I was
going to dig a well, she took a vital
interest in it. Her own water supply
was unsatisfactory, as she depended

upon a little spring which sometimes
dried up in the summer, and should
my well turn out to be a good one, she
knew I would not object to her send-
ing the children for pails of water on
occasions.
" It will be fun for them," she said,
" and if your water really is good , it
will often come in very well for me.
Mr. Colwell tells me," she continued ,
"that you put your well in a wrong
place. He is a practical man and

knows all about wells, and I do hope
that for your sake he may be wrong. "
My neighbors were generally pessi-
mists. Country people are proverb-
ially prudent, and pessimism is pru-
dence. We feel safe when we doubt
the success of another, because, if he
should suceeed, we can say we are
glad we were mistaken , and so step

from a position of good judgment to
one of generous disposition without
feeling that we have changed our
plane of merit. But the optimist
often gets himself into terrible scrapes,

for if he is wrong he cannot say he is
glad of it.
But whatever else he may be, a
pessimist is depressing ; and it was,

therefore, a great pleasure to me to
have a friend who was an out and out
optimist. In fact, he might be called
a working optimist. He lived about
six miles from my house and had a
hobby, which was natural phenomena.
CAME OUT OF IT. 93
He was always on the lookout for

that sort of thing, and when he found
it he would study its nature and effect.
He was a man in the maturity of
youth ; and if the estate on which he
lived had not belonged to his mother,
he would have spent much time and
money in investigating natural phe-
nomena. He often drove over to see
me, and always told me how glad he

would be if he had an opportunity of
digging a well.
'I have the wildest desire, " he said,
" to know what is in the earth under
our place, and if it should so happen

in the course of time that the limits
of earthly existence should be reached
by-I mean if the estate should come
into my hands-I would go down ,
down, down until I had found out all that
could be discovered . To own a plug
of earth four thousand miles long and
only know what is on the surface of
the upper end of it is unmanly ; we
might as well be grazing beasts. "
He was sorry that I was digging

only for water, because water is a very
commonplace thing, but he was quite
sure I would get it, and when my well
was finished he was one of the first to
congratulate me.
" But if I had been in your place, "
said he, "with full right to do as I
pleased, I would not have let those
men go away. I would have set them
to work in some place where there
would be no danger of getting water, -
at least, for a long time, —and then you
would have found out what are the
deeper treasures of your land."

Having finished my well, I now set
about getting the water into my resi-
dence near by. I built a house over
the well and put in it a little engine,
and by means of a system of pipes,
like the arteries and veins of the
human body, I proposed to distribute

the water to the various desirable
points in my house. The engine was

the heart which should start the circu-
CAME OUT OF IT. 95
which should keep it going,

lation ,
which should send throbbing through
every pipe the water which, if it were
not our life, was very necessary to it.
When all was ready we started the
engine, and in a very short time we
discovered that something was wrong.
For fifteen or twenty minutes water

flowed into the tank at the top of the
house with a sound that was grander
in the ears of my wife and myself than
the roar of Niagara, and then it
stopped. Investigation proved that
the flow had stopped because there
was no more water in the well.
It is needless to detail the examina-
tions, investigations, and the multitude
of counsels and opinions with which
our minds were filled for the next few
days. It was plain to see that,
although this well was fully able to

meet the demands of a hand pump or
of bailing buckets , the water did not
flow into it as fast as it could be
pumped out by an engine . Therefore ,
for the purposes of supplying the cir-

culation of my domestic water system
the well was declared a failure.
When this sentence had been pro-
nounced, and I was walking slowly
toward the house, I thought I heard

that same derisive hiss which I had
noticed once before. This time it
could not have been the creaking of a
derrick, and there was not wind
enough to move the branches of the
trees.
My non-success was much talked
about in the neighborhood, and we

received a great deal of sympathy and
condolence. Phineas Colwell was not
surprised at the outcome of the affair.
He had said that the well had been
put in the wrong place. Mrs. Betty

was not only surprised, but disgusted.
" It is all very well for you, " she
said, " who could afford to buy water,
if it was necessary; but it is very differ-
ent with the widow and the orphan.

If I had not supposed you were going
CAME OUT OF IT. 97
to have a real well, I would have had
my spring cleaned out and deepened.

I could have had it done in the early
summer, but it is of no use now ; the
spring has dried up."
She told a neighbor that she
believed the digging of my well had

dried up her spring, and that that was
the way of this world, where the
widow and the orphan were sure to
come out at the little end.
Of course I did not submit to de-
feat--at least, without a struggle. I

had a well ; and if anything could be
done to make that well supply me with
water I was going to do it. I con-
sulted specialists, and, after careful con-
sideration of the matter, they agreed
that it would be unadvisable for me to
attempt to deepen my present well, as

there was reason to suppose there was
very little water in the place where I

had dug it, and that the very best
thing I could do would be to try a
driven well. As I had already exca-
L AT
98 MY WEL , AND WH
vated about thirty feet, that was so

much gain to me, and if I should have
a six-inch pipe put into my present
well and then driven down and down
until it came to a place where there
was plenty of water, I would have all
I wanted. How far down the pipe
would have to be driven, of course,
they did not know, but they all agreed

that, if I drove deep enough, I would
get all the water I wanted. This was
the only kind of a well , they said ,
which one could sink as deep as he
pleased without being interfered with
by the water at the bottom.
My wife and I then considered the
matter and ultimately decided that it
would be a waste of the money which
we had already spent upon the engine,
the pipes, and the little house, and as
there was nothing else to be done but
to drive a well, we would have a well
driven.
Of course we were both very sorry
that the work must be begun again,
CAME OUT OF IT. 99
but I was especially dissatisfied, for

now it would be impossible for me to
make the well a Christmas present to
my wife. The weather was getting

cold, there was already snow upon the
ground, and I was told that work
could not be carried on in winter
weather. I lost no time, however, in
making a contract with a well-driver,
who assured me that as soon as the
season should open, which might be

very early in the spring, he would come
to my place and begin to drive my well.
The season did open and so did the
pea blossoms, and the pods actually
began to fill before I saw that well-
driver again. I had had a good deal
of correspondence with him in the
meantime, urging him to prompt action ;

but he always had some good reason
for delay. (I found out afterward that
he was busy fulfilling a contract made
before mine, in which he promised
to drive a well as soon as the season
should open. )
ΙΟΟ MY WELL, AND WHAT
At last- it was early in the summer

-he came with his derricks , a steam
engine, a trip-hammer, and a lot of
men. They took off the roof of my
house, removed the engine, and set to
work.
For many a long day, and, I am

sorry to say, for many a longer night,
that trip-hammer hammered and
banged. On the next day after the

night work began, one of my neighbors.
came to me to know what they did
that for. I told him they were anx-
ious to get through .
" Get through what ? " said he. " The
earth ? If they do that, and your six-
inch pipe comes out in a Chinaman's

back yard, he will sue you for damages. "
When the pipe had been driven
through the soft stratum under the old
well, and began to reach the firmer
ground, the pounding and shaking of
the earth became worse and worse.
My wife was obliged to leave home
with our child.
CAME OUT OF IT. ΙΟΙ
"If he is to do without both water
and sleep ," said she, " he cannot long

survive, " and I agreed with her.
She departed for a pleasant summer
resort where her married sister with
her child was staying, and from week

to week I received very pleasant
letters from her telling me of the
charms of the place, and dwelling par
ticularly upon the abundance of cool
spring water with which the house was
supplied.
While this terrible pounding was
going on I heard various reports of its

effect upon my neighbors. One of
them, an agriculturist , with whom I
had always been on the best of terms,
came with a clouded brow.
66
When I first felt those shakes ," he
said, " I thought they were the effects

of seismic disturbances and I did not
mind, but when I found it was your
well I thought I ought to come over to
speak about it. I do not object to the
shaking of my barn, because my man
tells me the continual jolting is thresh-

ing out the oats and wheat, but I do
not like to have all my apples and
pears shaken off my trees. And then,"
said he, " I have a late brood of chick-
ens, and they cannot walk because
every time they go to make a step

they are jolted into the air about a
foot. And again, we have had to give
up having soup. We like soup, but we
do not care to have it spout up like a
fountain whenever that hammer comes
down. "
I was grieved to trouble this friend,

and I asked him what I should do .
" Do you want me to stop the well ? "
said I.
" Oh, no," said he heartily ; "go on
with the work. You must have water,
and we will try to stand the bumping.

I dare say it is good for dyspepsia, and
the cows are getting used to having
the grass jammed up against their
noses. Go ahead, we can stand it in
the daytime ; but if you could stop the
CAME OUT OF IT. 103
night work we would be very glad.

Some people may think it a well-spring
of pleasure to be bounced out of bed,
but I don't. "
Mrs. Perch came to me with a face
like a squeezed lemon, and asked me

if I could lend her five nails. " What
sort ?" said I.
" The kind you nail clapboards on
with," saidshe. " There is one of
them been shook entirely off my house
by your well. I am in hopes that be-
fore the rest are all shook off, I shall
get in some money that is owing me,

and can afford to buy nails for myself."
I stopped the night work, but this
was all I could do for these neighbors.
My optimist friend was delighted
when he heard of my driven well ; he
lived so far away that he and his
mother were not disturbed by the jar-
ring of the ground. Now he was sure
that some of the internal secrets of the
earth would be laid bare , and he rode
or drove over every day to see what
we were getting out of the well. I

know that he was afraid we would
soon get water, but was too kind-
hearted to say so.
One day the pipe refused to go

deeper. No matter how hard it was
struck, it bounced up again. When
some of the substance it had struck
was brought up, it looked like French
chalk, and my optimist eagerly exam-

ined it.
"A French-chalk mine," said he,
"would not be a bad thing, but I hoped
that you had struck a bed of mineral
gutta percha. That would be a grand
find."
But the chalk bed was at last passed,
and we began again to bring up noth-
ing but common earth .
" I suppose, " said my optimist to me
one morning, " that you must soon
come to water, and if you do, I hope it
will be hot water."
" Hot water ! " I exclaimed. " I do
not want that. "
CAME OUT OF IT. 105
66
Oh, yes, you would, if you had
thought about it as much as I have ,"
he replied. " I lay awake for hours.
last night, thinking what would happen
if you struck hot water. In the first
place, it would be absolutely pure, be-
cause, even if it were possible for germs
and bacilli to get down so deep, they
would be boiled before you got them ,
and then you could cool that water for
drinking. When fresh, it would be
already heated for cooking and hot

baths. And then-just think of it !—
you could introduce the hot-water sys-
tem of heating into your house, and
there would be the hot water always
ready. But the great thing would be

your garden. Think of the refuse hot
water circulating in pipes up and down

.
and under all your beds ! That garden
would bloom in the winter as others
do in the summer. At least , you
could begin to have Lima beans and

tomatoes as soon as the frost was out
of the air."
I laughed. " It would take a lot of

pumping," I said , " to do all that with
the hot water."
" Oh, I forgot to say, " he cried, with

sparkling eyes, " that I do not believe
you would ever have any more pump-
ing to do. You have now gone down

so far that I am sure whatever you find
will force itself up. It will spout high
into the air or far through your pipes,
and run always."
Phineas Colwell was by when this
was said, and he must have gone down
to Mrs. Betty Perch's house, and talked
it over with her, for in the afternoon
she came to see me.
" I understand, " said she, " that you
are trying to get hot water out of your

well, and that there is likely to be a
lot more than you need, so that it will
run down by the side of the road. I
just want to say that, if a stream of hot
water comes down past my house, some
of the children will be bound to get
into it and be scalded to death, and I
CAME OUT OF IT. 107
came to say that, if that well is going

to squirt b'iling water, I'd like to have
notice, so's that I can move, though
where a widow with so many orphans
is going to move to nobody knows. Mr.
Colwell says that, if you had got him
to tell you where to put that well, there

would have been no danger of this
sort of thing."
The next day the optimist came to
me, his face fairly blazing with a new
idea. " I rode over on purpose to urge
you," he cried, " if you should strike
hot water, not to stop there. Go on,
and, by George ! you may strike fire. "
" Heavens !" I cried.
" Oh, quite the opposite, " said he ;

" but do not let us joke. I think that
would be the grandest thing of this
age. Think of a fire well with the
flames shooting up perhaps a hundred

feet into the air !"
I wish Phineas Colwell had not been
there. As it was, he turned pale and

sat down on the wall.
"You look astonished ! " exclaimed
the optimist, " but listen to me. You

have not thought of this thing as I
have. If you should strike fire, your
fortune would be made. By a system
of reflectors you could light up the

whole country. By means of tiles and
pipes this region could be made tropi-
cal. You could warm all the houses in
the neighborhood with hot air. And

then the power you could generate-
just think of it ! Heat is power ; the
cost of power is the fuel. You could
furnish power to all who wanted it ;
you could fill this region with indus-
tries. My dear sir, you must excuse
my agitation, but if you should strike
fire there is no limit to the possibilities
of achievement. "
" But I want water," said I ; " fire
would not take the place of that. "
" Oh, water is a trifle ! " said he.
"You could have pipes laid from town.
It is only about two miles. But fire !
Nobody has yet gone down deep enough
CAME OUT OF IT. 109
for that. You have your future in

your hands."
As I did not care to connect my
future with fire this idea did not strike
me very forcibly, but it struck Phineas
Colwell. He did not say anything to
me, but after I had gone he went to
the well-drivers.
"If you feel them pipes getting hot,"

he said to them, " I warn you to stop.
I have been in countries where there
are volcanoes, and I know what they
are. There's enough of them in this
world and there's no need of making
new ones."
In the afternoon a wagoner who
happened to be passing, brought me

a note from Mrs. Perch, very badly
spelled, asking if I would let one of
my men bring her a pail of water, for
she could not think of coming herself,
or letting any of the children come
near my place, if spouting fires were
expected .
The well-driving had gone on and
on with intermissions on account of

sickness in the families of the various
workmen, until it had reached the limit
which I had fixed, and we had not
found water in sufficient quantity, hot
or cold, nor had we struck fire or any-
thing else worth having.
The well-drivers and some specialists
were of the opinion that if I were to

go ten, twenty, or perhaps a hundred
feet deeper, I would be very likely to
get all the water I wanted. But, of
course, they could not tell how far they
must go, for some wells were over a
thousand feet deep. I shook my head
at this. There seemed to be only one
thing certain about this driving busi-
ness, and that was the expense. I
declined to go any deeper.
" I think," a facetious neighbor said
to me, " it would be cheaper for you
to buy a lot of Apollinaris water, —
at wholesale rates, of course , —and let
your men open so many bottles a day
and empty them into your tank. You
CAME OUT OF IT. III
would find that would pay better in

the long run. "
Phineas Colwell told me that when
he had informed Mrs. Perch that I was
going to stop operations, she was in a
dreadful state of mind. " After all she
had undergone," she said, " it was

simply cruel to think of my stopping
before I got water, and that after
having dried up her spring."
This is what Phineas said she said,
but when next I met her she told me
that he had declared that, if I had put
the well where he thought it ought to
be, I should have been having all the
water I wanted before now.
My optimist was dreadfully cast

down when he heard that I would
drive no deeper.
" I have been afraid of this, " he
said. " I have been afraid of it, and if
circumstances had so arranged them-
selves that I should have command of
money, I should have been glad to
assume the expense of deeper explora-
tions. I have been thinking a great

deal about the matter, and I feel quite
sure that, even if you did not get water
or anything else that might prove of
value to you , it would be a great
advantage to have a pipe sunk into the
earth to the depth of, say, a thousand
feet."
"What possible advantage could

that be ? " I asked.
" I will tell you , " he said. " You

would then have one of the grandest
opportunities ever offered to man of
constructing a gravity engine. This
would be an engine which would be no

expense at all to run. It would not
need fuel ; gravity would be the power.
It would work a pump splendidly.
You could start it when you liked and
stop it when you liked ."
" Pump ! " said I. "What is the
good of a pump without water ? "
" Oh, of course, you would have to
have water," he answered ; " but no
matter how you get it, you will have
CAME OUT OF IT.. 113
to pump it up to your tank so as

to make it circulate over your house.
Now, my gravity pump would do this
beautifully. You see the pump would
be arranged with cog-wheels and all
that sort of thing, and the power
and the
would be supplied by a weight in a
cylinder of lead or iron , which would
be fastened to a rope and run down
inside your pipe. Just think of it ! It
would run down a thousand feet ; and
where is there anything worked by a
weight that has such a fall as that ? "
I laughed . " That is all very well,"
said I ; " but how about the power
required to wind that weight up again

when it got to the bottom ? I should
have to have an engine to do that. "
66 Oh,
no ! " said he. " I have
planned the thing better than that.
You see the greater the weight the
greater the power and the velocity.
Now, if you take a solid cylinder of
lead about four inches in diameter, so
that it would easily slip down your
pipe-you might grease it for that

matter- and twenty feet in length, it
would be an enormous weight, and in
slowly descending for about an hour a
day, for that would be long enough
for your pumping, and going down a
thousand feet, it would run your
engine for a year. Now then, at the
end of the year you could not expect
to haul that weight up again. You
would have a trigger arrangement
which would detach it from the rope
when it got to the bottom. Then
you would wind up your rope, a man

could do that in a short time ,—and you
would attach another cylinder of lead
and that would run your engine
for another year, minus a few days,

because it would only go down nine
hundred and eighty feet. The next
year you would put on another
cylinder, and so on. I have not
worked out the figures exactly, but I

think that in this way your engine
would run for thirty years before the
CAME OUT OF IT. 115
pipe became entirely filled with cylin-

ders. That would be probably as
long as you would care to have water

forced into this house."
66
'Yes," said I. " I think that is
likely." He saw that his scheme did
not strike me favorably. Suddenly a

light flashed across his face.
" I'll tell you what you can do with
your pipe," he said , “ just as it is.
You can set up a clock over it which
would run for forty years without
winding."
I smiled and he turned sadly away
to his horse, but he had not ridden ten
yards before he came back and called
to me over the wall.
"If the earth at the bottom of your
pipe should ever yield to pressure and

give way and water or gas, or—any.
thing-should be squirted out of it, I
beg you will let me know as soon as
possible."
I promised to do so.
When the pounding was at an end
my wife and child came home. But
the season continued dry, and even

their presence could not counteract
the feeling of aridity which seemed to
permeate everything which belonged
to us, material or immaterial. We
had a great deal of commiseration
from our neighbors. I think even

Mrs. Betty Perch began to pity us a
little , for her spring had begun to
trickle again in a small way, and she
sent word to me that, if we were really
in need of water, she would be willing
to divide with me. Phineas Colwell
was sorry for us, of course , but he

could not help feeling and saying that,
if I had consulted him, the misfortune
would have been prevented .
It was late in the summer when my
wife returned, and when she made her
first visit of inspection to the grounds
and gardens, her eyes of course fell
upon the unfinished well. She was
shocked.
" I never saw such a scene of wreck-
CAME OUT OF IT. 117
age," she said. " It looks like a West-

ern town after a cyclone. I think the
best thing you can do is to have this
dreadful litter cleared up and the
ground smoothed and raked, the wall
mended, and the roof put back on that
little house, and then , if we can make
anybody believe it is an ice house, so

much the better. "
This was good advice, and I sent

for a man to put the vicinity of the
well in order and give it the air of
neatness which characterizes the rest
of our home.
The man who came was named Mr.
Barnet. He was a contemplative fel-
low, with a pipe in his mouth. After

having worked at the place for half an
day he sent for me and said :
" I will tell you what I would do if I
was in your place. I'd put that little
house in order, and I'd put the engine
into it, and the pump down into that

thirty-foot well you first dug, and I'd
pump water into my house."
I looked at him in amazement.

" There's lots of water in that well,
he continued, " and if there's that much
now in this drought, you will surely
have ever so much more when the
weather isn't so dry. I have measured

the water and I know."
I could not understand him. It
seemed to me that he was talking
wildly. He filled his pipe, and lighted

it, and sat upon the wall.
66
Now," said he, after he had taken
a few puffs, " I'll tell you where the
trouble's been with your well. People
are always in too big a hurry in this
world about all sorts of things as well
as wells. I am a well-digger and I
know all about them. We know if
there is any water in the ground it will

always find its way to the deepest hole
there is, and we dig a well so as to
give it a deep hole to go to in the
place where we want it. But you can't
expect the water to come to that hole
just the very day it's finished. Of
CAME OUT OF IT. 119
course you will get some, because it's

right there in the neighborhood ; but
there is always a lot more that will
come, if you give it time. It's got to
make little channels and passages for
itself, and of course it takes time to do
that. It's like settling up a new coun-
try. Only a few pioneers come at first,
and you have to wait for the popula-
tion to flow in. This being a dry sea-
son and the water in the ground a little
sluggish, on that account it was a good
while finding out where your well was.
If I had happened along when you
was talking about a well, I think I
should have said to you that I knew a
proverb which would about fit your
case, and that is, ' Let well enough
alone.'
I felt like taking this good man by
the hand, but I did not. I only told
him to go ahead and do everything
that was proper.
The next morning, as I was going to

the well , I saw Phineas Colwell coming
down the lane and Mrs. Betty Perch
coming up it. I did not wish them to

question me, SO I stepped behind
some bushes. When they met they
stopped.
46
Upon my word ! " exclaimed Mrs.
Betty, " if he isn't going to work again
on that everlasting well. If he's got
so much money he don't know what to
do with it, I could tell him that there's
people in this world , and not far away
neither, who would be the better for
some of it. It's a sin and a shame
and an abomination. Do you believe,
Mr. Colwell, that there is the least
chance in the world of his ever getting
water enough out of that well to shave
himself with ? "
" Mrs. Perch," said Phineas, “ it ain't
no use talking about that well. It ain't
no use, and it never can be no use, be-
cause it's in the wrong place. If he
ever pumps water out of that well into
his house, I'll do "
"What will you do ? " asked Mr.

CAME OUT OF IT. 121
Barnet, who just then appeared from

the recesses of the engine-house.
" I'll do anything on this earth that
you choose to name," said Phineas. " I
am safe, whatever it is."
"Well, then," said Mr. Barnet, knock-
ing the ashes from his pipe, prepara-
tory to filling it again, "will you marry
Mrs. Perch ? "
Phineas laughed. " Yes," he said.

" I promised I would do anything, and
I'll promise that ! "
" A slim chance for me," said Mrs.
Betty, " even if I'd have you ," and she

marched on with her nose in the air.
When Mr. Barnet got fairly to work
with his derrick, his men, and his
buckets , he found that there was a good
deal more to do than he had expected.
The well-drivers had injured the origi-
nal well by breaking some of the tiles
which lined it, and these had to be
taken out and others put in , and in the
course of this work other improvements
suggested themselves and were made.
Several times operations were delayed

by sickness in the family of Mr. Barnet
and also in the families of his work-
men, but still the work went on in a
very fair manner, although much more
slowly than had been supposed by any-
one. But in the course of time- I will
not say how much time-the work was

finished, the engine was in its place,
and it pumped water into my house,
and every day since then it has pumped
all the water we need, pure, cold, and
delicious.
Knowing the promise Phineas Col-

well had made , and feeling desirous of
having everything which concerned my
well settled and finished , I went to look
for him to remind him of his duty
toward Mrs. Perch ; but I could not
find that naval and military mechanical
agriculturist . He had gone away to
take a job or a contract, I could not
discover which, and he has not since
appeared in our neighborhood. Mrs.
Perch is very severe on me about this.
CAME OUT OF IT. 123
" There's plenty of bad things come

out of that well, " she said, " but I never
thought anything bad enough would

come out of it to make Mr. Colwell go
away and leave me to keep on being a
widow with all them orphans ."
One bright morning in early winter
I went down to the little well-house to
see the engine work. It was always
pleasant to me to watch that little piece
of machinery, moving so quietly, so
swiftly, and so powerfully, pumping the
pure, fresh water into my house.
" This is a good well, John , " I said to

my man, who had come to draw the
fire, the engine having pumped enough,

"although we were a long time in
getting it. "
' Yes, sir," said he ; " there's not a
better well in all this part of the
country."
He was a good man and always be-
lieved in my well, and my heart now
warmed toward him .
" John," said I, " I will tell you some-

124 MY WELL.
thing, though you need not speak of it.

When I first started this well I intended
making it a Christmas present to my

wife. I then thought it would be
finished in a month or two. That is
rather a joke on me, isn't it ? "

“ Well, sir,” said John , his face irra-
diating as he spoke, " what's to hinder
you from making it a Christmas pres-
ent to her now ? Christmas isn't very
far off !"
Happy thought ! I did it.

THE '
JININ' FARMS . *
BY EUGENE FIELD.
You see Bill an' I wuz jest like broth-

ers ; wuz raised on 'jinin ' farms ; he
wuz his folks' only child, an' I wuz my
folks ' only one. So, nat'ril like, we
growed up together, lovin', an' sym-

pathizin' with each other. What I
knowed I told Bill , an' what Bill
knowed he told me, an' what neither
on us knowed-why, that warn't wuth
knowin ' !
If I hadn't got over my braggin'

days, I'd allow that, in our time, Bill
an' I wuz jest aboat the sparkinest
beaus in the township, leastwise that's
what the girls thought ; but, to be
125
126 THE '
JININ' FARMS.
honest about it, there wuz only two uv
them girls we courted, Bill an ' I ; he

courtin' one an' I t'other. You see ,
we sung in the choir, an' just as our

good luck would have it, we got sot on
the sopranner an' the alto, an' bime-
by-oh, well, after beauin' ' em ' round
a spell-a year or so, for that matter-
we up an' marr'ed ' em, an' the old folk
gin us the farms, 'jinin' farms, where
we boys had lived all our lives. Lizzie,
my wife, had always been powerful
friendly with Marthy, Bill's wife ; them
two girls never met, but what they wuz
huggin', an' kissin ', an ' carr'in' on , like
girls does ; for women ain't like men-
they can't control theirselves an' their
feelin's, like the stronger sex does.
I tell you , it wuz happy times fur
Lizzie an' me, and Marthy an' Bill—
happy times on the ' jinin' farms, with
the pastures full uv fat cattle, an ' the
barns full uv grain an' hay, an' the
twin cottages full uv love an' content-
ment ! Then, when Cyrus come- our
THE '
JININ' FARMS. 127
leetle boy, our first an' only one ! why,

when he come, I wuz jest so happy an'
so grateful that, if I hadn't been a
man, I guess I'd have just hollered—
joy.
maybe cried- with joy. Wanted to
call the leetle tyke Bill, but Bill
wouldn't hear to nothin' but Cyrus.
You see he'd bought a cyclopeedy the

winter we wuz maar'ed, an' had been
readin' in it uv a great foreign warrior
named Cyrus that lived a long spell ago.
" Land uv Goshen, Bill ! " sez I,
" you don't reckon the baby 'll ever

get to be a warrior ? "
66
'Well, I don't know about that,"
sez Bill. " There's no tellin' ! At any
rate, Cyrus Ketcham has an uncommon
sound for a name ; so Cyrus it must
be ; an' wen he's seven years old , I'll
gin him the finest Morgan colt in the
the deestrick."
So we called him Cyrus, an' he grew
up lovin' an' bein ' loved by everybody.
Well, along about two years- or, say,
eighteen months or so --after Cyrus
128 THE '
JININ' FARMS.
come to us, a leetle baby girl come to

Bill and Marthy, an' uv all the cunnin'
sweet leetle things you ever seen, that
leetle girl baby wuz the cunnin'est an'
sweetest ! Looked jest like one uv
them foreign crockery figgers you buy

in city stores- all pink an ' white, with
big brown eyes here, an' a teeny,
weeny mouth here, an' a nose an' ears,
you'd have bet they wuz wax-they
wuz so small an ' fragile. Never darst
hold her for fear I'd break her ; an' it
like to skeered me to death to see the
way Marthy an' Lizzie would kind uv
toss her round an' trot her-soon
their knees, or pat her- so- on the

back when she wuz colicky, like the
wimmin folks sez all healthy babies is
afore they're three months old.
" You're going to have the namin'
uv her," sez Bill to me.
" Yes," sez Marthy, " we made it up
atween us long ago that you should
have the namin' uv our baby like we
had the namin' uv yourn ! "
THE '
JININ' FARMS. 129
Then, kind uv hectorin ' like-for I

wuz always a powerful tease-I sez :
" How would Cleopatry do for a name ?
or Venis ? I have been readin' the
cyclopeedy, myself, I'd have you

know ! "
An' then I laffed one on them pro-
vokin' laffs uv mine. Oh, I tell you !
I wuz the worst feller for hectorin'
folks you ever seen ! But I meant it all
in fun, for when I suspicioned they
hadn't liked my funnin ' , I sez : " Bill,"
I sez, " an' Marthy, there's only one
name I'd love above all the rest to call
your leetle lambkin , an' that's the dear-
est name on earth to me-the name uv
Lizzie, my wife ! "
That jest suited them to a T, an'
always after that she wuz called leetle
Lizzie, an' it sot on her, that name did ,
like it wuz made for her, an' she for it.
We made it up then--perhaps more in
fun than anything else that when the
children growed up, Cyrus an' leetle
Lizzie, they should get maar'ed to-
130 THE 'JININ' FARMS.
gether, an' have both the farms, an' be

happy, an' a blessin' to us in our old
age. We made it up in fun, perhaps ,
but down in our hearts it was our
prayer, jest the same, and God heard
the prayer an' granted it to be so .
They played together ; they lived
together ; they ' tended the deestrick
school an' went huckleberrin' ; there
wuz huskin's an' spellin' bees, an' choir

meetin's, an' skatin ', an' slidin' down
hills. Oh, the happy times uv youth !
An' all those happy times our boy
Cyrus an' leetle Lizzie went lovin'ly
together !
What made me start so- what made
me ask uv Bill one time : " Are we
a-gettin ' old, Bill ? " That wuz the
Thanksgivin' night when, as we set

round the fire in Bill's front room,
Cyrus came to us, holdin' leetle Lizzie
by the hand, an ' they asked us could

they get maar'ed come next Thanks-
givin' time ? Why, it seemed only
yesterday that they wuz chicks to-
THE '
JININ' FARMS. 131
gether ! God ! how swift the years go

by when they are happy years !
Reuben," sez Bill to me, "let's go
down cellar an ' draw a pitcher uv
cider ! "
You see that, bein' men , it wuzn't
for us to make a show uv ourselves.
Marthy an' Lizzie jest hugged each

other, an' laughed an ' cried- they wuz
so glad ! Then they hugged Cyrus
an' leetle Lizzie ; an' talk an ' laff ! Well,
it did beat all how them wimmin folks
did talk an' laugh all at one time !

Cyrus laughed, too, an' then he said
.
he'd go out an' throw some fodder in
to the steers, an ' Bill an' I —well, we
went down cellar to draw that pitcher
uv cider.
It ain't for me to tell uv the meller
sweetness uv their courtin ' time ; I
couldn't do it if I'd try. Oh, how we
loved them both ! Yet oncet in the
early summer-time, our boy Cyrus, he

come to me, an ' said : " Father I
want you to let me go away for a spell."

" Cyrus, my boy ! Go away ? "

""
'Yes, father ; President Linkern has
called for soldiers. Father, you have
always taught me to obey the voice uv
duty. That voice summons me now. "
" God in heaven, " I thought, " you
have given us this child only to take

him from us ! "
But then came the second thought :
" Steady, Reuben ! You are a man ;
be a man ! Steady, Reuben ; be a
man ! "
" Yer mother," sez I ; " yer mother

-it will break her heart ! "
" She leaves it all to you, father. "
"But the other-the other, Cyrus
-leetle Lizzie--ye know ! "
" She is content," sez he.
A storm swep' through me like a

cyclone. It wuz all Bill's fault ; that
warrior name had done it all--the
cyclopeedy with its lies had pizened
Bill's mind to put this trouble on me
an' mine !
No, no ! a thousand times no !
THE '
JININ' FARMS. 133
These were coward feelin's an' they

misbecome me ; the ache here in the
heart uv mine had no business there.
The better part uv me called to me an'

said : " Pull yourself together, Reuben
Ketcham, an' be a man !"
Well, after he went away, leetle
Lizzie wuz more to us ' n ever before ;
wuz at our house all the time ; called
Lizzie " mother, " wuz contented in her
woman's way, willin ' to do her part,
waitin' an' watchin ' an' prayin ' for him
to come back. They sent him boxes
uv good things every fortnight, mother
an' leetle Lizzie did ; there wuzn't a
minute uv the day they wuzn't talkin'
or thinkin' uv him.
Well-ye see -I must tell it my

own way he got killed. In the very
first battle Cyrus got killed. The
rest uv the soldiers turnt to retreat,
because there wuz too many for ' em
on the other side. But Cyrus stood
right up : he wuz the warrior Bill
allowed he wuz going to be ; our boy

wuzn't the kind to run. They tell me

there wuz bullet-holes here, an' here,
an' here--all over his breast. We
always knew our boy wuz a hero.

Ye can thank God ye wuzn't at the
'jinin' farms when the news come that
he got killed. The neighbors, they
wuz there , of course, to kind uv hold
us up an' comfort us. Bill an' I sot all
day in the woodshed, holdin' hands

an' lookin' away from each other—so ;
never said a word, jest sot there, sympa-
thizin' an' holdin' hands. If we'd been
wimmin, Bill an' I would have cried an'
beat our forrids an ' hung round each
other's neck like the wimmin folks
done. Bein' as we wuz men , we jest
sot there in the woodshed, away from
all the rest, holdin' hands an' sympa-
thizin'.
From that time on leetle Lizzie wuz
our daughter -our very daughter, all

that wuz left to us uv our boy. She
never shed a tear ; crep' like a shadder
round the house an' up the front walk
THE 'JININ' FARMS. 135
an' through the garden.

garden . Her heart
wuz broke. You could see it in the
leetle lambkin's eyes an' hear it in her

voice. Wanted to tell her sometimes ,
when she kissed me an' called me
" father "—wanted to tell her, " Leetle
Lizzie, let me help ye bear yer load.
Speak out the sorrer that's in yer
broken heart ; speak it out, leetle one,
an' let me help ye bear yer load."
But it isn't for man to have them
feelin's-leastwise, it isn't for him to
tell uv them. So I held my peace an'
made no sign.
She jest drooped, an ' pined an ' died.

One mornin' in the spring she wuz
standin' in the garden, an' all at oncet
she threw her arms up- so - an' fell
upon her face, an' when they got to
her all that wuz left to us uv leetle
body.
Lizzie wuz her lifeless body. I can't
tell you what happened next-uv the
funeral an' all that. I said this wuz in
the spring, an ' so it wuz all round us ;

but it wuz cold and winter here.
One day mother sez to me, " Reu-

ben, " sez she, soft like, " Marthy an ' I
is goin' to the buryin' ground for a
spell. Don't you reckon it would be a
good time for you to step over an' see
Bill while we're gone ? "
66
'Maybe so , mother," sez I.
It wuz a pretty day. Cuttin' across
lots, I thought to myself what I'd say
to Bill to kind uv comfort him. I
made it up that I'd speak about the

time when we wuz boys together ; uv
how we used to slide down the meetin'-
house hill, an' go huckleberrin' ; uv

how I jumped into the pond one day
an' saved him from bein' drownded ;
uv the spellin ' school, the huskin' bees,
the choir meetin's, the sparkin' times ;
uv the swimmin' hole, the crow's nest
in the pine tree, the woodchuck's hole
in the old pasture lot ; uv the sunny
summer days an' the snug winter
nights when we wuz boys, an' happy !
An ' then-
No, no ! I couldn't go on like that !

THE '
JININ' FARMS. 137
I'd break down . A man can't be a
man more'n just so far!

Why did mother send me over to
see Bill ? I'd better stay to home ! I
felt myself chokin ' up ; if I hadn't took
a chaw uv terbacker, I'd 'ave been
cryin' in a minute !
The nearer I got to Bill's the worse

I hated to go in. Standin ' on the
stoop, I could hear the tall clock tickin'
solemnly inside- " tick-tock , tick-tock,"
jest as plain as if I wuz sittin' inside
uv it. The door wuz shut, yet I knew
jest what Bill wuz doin' ; he wuz settin'
in the old red easy-chair, lookin' down
at the floor-like this. Strange, ain't
it, how sometimes, when you love folks,
you know jest what they're doin' with-
out knowin ' anything about it ?
There wuzn't no use knockin ' , but I
knocked three times-so. Didn't say
a word ; only jest knocked three times

-that a-way. Didn't hear no answer
-nothin' but the tick uv the tall clock,
an' yet I knew that Bill heard me an'
138 JININ' FARMS.
THE '
that down in his heart he wuz sayin' to

me to come in. He never said a word,
yet I knowed all the time that Bill wuz
sayin' for me to come in.
I opened the door, keerful like, an'
slipped in. There sot Bill jest as I
knowed he wuz settin ' ; lonesome like ;

sad like ; his head hangin' down ; he
never looked up at me ; never said a
word-knowed that I wuz there all the
time, but never said a word an' never
made a sign.
How changed Bill wuz -oh, Bill !

how changed ye wuz. There wuz
furrers in yer face an' yer hair wuz

white-as white as-as white as mine !
Looked small about the body, thin an'
hump-shouldered .
Jest two ol' men, that's what we
wuz, an' we had been boys together !
Well, I stood there a spell, kind uv
hesitatin' like, neither uv us sayin' any-
thing, until bimeby Bill he sort uv made
a sign for me to set down. Didn't
speak, didn't lift his eyes from the

JININ' FARMS.
THE ' 139
floor ; only made a sign like this, in

a weak, tremblin' way-that wuz all.
An' I sot down, an' there we both sot,
neither uv us sayin' a word, but both
settin' there an' sympathizin' as hard as
we could, for that is the way with men.
Bimeby, like we'd kind uv made it
aforehand, we hitched over closer, for
when folks is in sorrer an' trouble they
like to be closte together. But not a
word all the time, an', hitchin' closer
an' closer together, why, bimeby we
sot side by side. So we sot a spell
longer, lovin' an' sympathizin ', as men
folks do ; thinkin' uv old times, uv our
boyhood ; thinkin' uv the happiness
uv the past an' uv the hopes them two
children had brought us ! The tall
clock ticked, an ' that wuz all the sound
there wuz, except when Bill gin a sigh,
an' I gin a sigh, too -to lighten the
load, ye know.
Not a word come from either uv us ;
'twuz all we could do to set there, lovin'
each other an' sympathizin' !
All at oncet- for we couldn't stand it

no longer- all at oncet we turned an'
groped with our hand , this a-way, faces
t'other way, an' reached out- so - an'
groped with our hands, this a-way, till
we found an' held each other fast in a
clasp uv tender meanin'.
Then-God forgive me if I done a
wrong-then I wisht I wuz a woman !
For, bein' a woman, I could have riz
up , an' standin' so , I could have cried :
" Come, Bill ! let me hold you in these
arms ; come, let us weep together ; an'
let this broken heart uv mine speak
through these tremblin' lips to that
broken heart uv yourn, Bill , tellin' ye
how much I love ye, an ' sympathize
with ye ! "
But, no ! I wuz not a woman ! I
wuz a man ! an' bein' a man I must
let my heart break ; I must hold my
peace, an' I must make no sound.
EILY CONSIDINE. *
BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.
Ar the barrack gate she sits,

Eily Considine ;
Now she dozes, now she knits ,
While the sunshine, through the slits
Of the trellised trumpet-vine,
Warms old Eily Considine ,
Warms her heart that long ago,
Set the regiment aglow !
Sweeter colleen ne'er was seen
Than Eileen ;
Lips that flamed like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine-
Is that you,
Selling apples
Where the gilded sunlight dapples ,
Eily Considine ?

141
142 EILY CONSIDINE.
I remember your first beau,

Eily Considine ;
That was years ago, I know ;
Do you ever think of Stowe-
Stowe, lieutenant in the line-
Shot by Sioux in '59 ?
Do you sometimes think of Gray ?
I can almost hear him say,
" Sweeter colleen ne'er was seen
Than Eileen ;
Lips that flame like scarlet wine,
Eyes of azure, smile divine
Is that you,
Selling apples
Where the gilded sunlight dapples,
Eily Considine ?
First came Fairfax of the staff,

Eily Considine ;
You forgave him with a laugh-
You're too generous by half.
Years ago he died-'twas wine
Killed him, Eily Considine ;
Killed him -' twas a death of shame,
Yet in death he cried your name !
EILY CONSIDINE. 143
Than Eileen ;
Lips of flame, like scarlet wine,
Eyes of azure, smile divine—
Is that you ,
Selling apples
Where the gilded sunshine dapples ,
Eily Considine ?
If you wept when Fairfax left ,

Eily Considine,
Surely Donaldson was deft
To console a soul bereft
In so very brief a time-

Lonely Eily Considine.
After Donaldson came Hurse ;
He it was who wrote this verse :
" Sweeter colleen ne'er was seen
Than Eileen ;
Lips that flame like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine "-
Is that you,
Selling apples
Where the golden sunlight dapples,
Eily Considine ?
144 EILY CONSIDINE.
Santa Anna settled Hurse,

Eily Considine ;
Then it went from bad to worse.
Yet, if your love was a curse,
Bless me with this curse divine,
Bless me, Eily Considine !-
Phantom dim of long ago,
Misty, faint, and sweet-I know
Than Eileen ;
Lips that flamed like scarlet wine ,

Eyes of azure, smile divine-
Is that you,
Selling apples
Eily Considine ?
At the barrack gate she sits,

Eily Considine,
Now she dozes, now she knits,
And the sunshine, through the slits
In the trellised trumpet-vine,
Falls on Eily Considine.
I must stir my wooden leg-
Sell my pencils — I can't beg.
EILY CONSIDINE. 145

Than Eileen ;
Lips of flame like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine—
Is that you !
Selling apples
Eily Considine ?
A CHRISTMAS REMINISCENCE .
BY AMELIA E. BARR.
ON Christmas, 1843 , I was at Broom

Hall, Northumberland , a girl of nine
years old, precociously observant and
sympathetic ; therefore, trembling and
weeping to the great interest of the
day-the sufferings and dangers of the
women and children with the British
army in Cabul. I had heard the thrill-
ing story of the struggle through the

frozen pass of Khoord- Cabul. I had
followed in imagination the heroic
death of the army, who perished to a
man there amid its hunger, cold, and
treachery, and of the women and chil-
dren who, as hostages and prisoners,
were hurried from fort to fort, while
146
A CHRISTMAS REMINISCENCE. 147
Generals Sale and Pollock and Sir

Richmond Shakespeare were forcing
the Khyber Pass for their relief.
And just before this Christmas had
come the news that they had been
.
saved that husbands and wives and
children had met again, while soldiers
cheered, and the mountain train guns
roared out royal salutes, and the Eng-

lish flag was once more set blowing
from the Bala Hissar of Cabul. All
the talk was of these events, and
strange stories were told of dreams and
omens and presentiments relating to
them . And I liked this better than
the old cumbrous ceremonies , which
were still kept intact in that lonely hall,
and which, indeed, greatly wearied the
squire, though he would not forbid
them. But as soon as dinner was
over he escaped to his private parlor,

where he proposed to go comfortably
to sleep, as usual, over his evening
paper.
But this night something awakened
148 A CHRISTMAS REMINISCENCE .
his heart, and he could not shut his

eyes and forget. Twelve years before
his son Willy had left him in a passion.
His mother had hoped and watched ,
and died calling him home, but Willy
had never answered the call-and he
had now been forgotten. At this day

his father seldom remembered the face
that had been so beloved , and his sis-
ters sighed and spoke of something
else.
This Christmas night, the squire
told us afterward , he could not get
Willy out of his mind. He kept re-
minding himself of the lad- how he
could run, and wrestle, and ride, and
hunt ; how the men envied him , and
the women loved him, and how proud
he himself had been of his beauty and
cleverness. He became nervous with
the iteration of the same thought, and
finally took the handkerchief off his
face and stood up. The room had
grown dark and the fire low. He rung

for wood, and a man entered with an
armful of ash logs. The squire said :

" Is that you, Baldy ? " and the fellow
answered : 66
My name is William . I
be a new man, sir. "
The logs began to blaze. The squire
looked at the stranger, and when he
raised himself from the hearth , he said :
46
Who are you, William ? Where do
you come from ?" Then the man
looked at his master, looked straight

into his eyes, and the squire trembled
and went closer. " Let me see you,"
he said hoarsely. " Let me see your
face ! " And the new man said softly :
" Father ! "
And the squire told us that some-

thing within him laughed joyously, and
that he felt as if it was growing dark,
but that in the shadow he heard a
voice saying, " Father, forgive me ! "

and that then he had to speak, and the
words, the only words he could say,
66
were : Forgive thee, Willy ! I for-
gave thee many a year ago ! " and with
that he came to himself fully, and he
150 A CHRISTMAS REMINISCENCE.
was sitting in his chair, and a fine

young cavalry officer was kneeling at
his knee, and the servant in the smock
frock had disappeared, and he asked
quickly : "Where is my Willy ?"
Then he found out that Willy had
only put on the smock frock to see if
Willy would be welcome for Willy's
own sake ; for he had become a great
soldier, and had been with Sale and
Pollock, and had taken his full share
in all the brave deeds that had been
done that famous year in India.

The company were dancing " Money-
musk " under the holly and mistletoe
boughs, when the squire and his hand-
some son came into their presence
again. And all the lovely young girls

looked at him, and some of the married
women, remembering his face, broke
the dance up with a glad cry, and sur-
rounded both the father and the son
with noisy joy. But I noticed that Willy

very soon passed to the side of the
beautiful Adelaide Plessy, and said
something to her in a whisper, and she

smiled at him for reply, and gave him
her hands. And after that Christmas
really began, and the singing and
dancing, and feasting and frolicking,
that had been only a social necessity,
became something very much different
and very much happier.
Then, on one happy night, when it
was furiously stormy outside, and de-
lightfully peaceful and radiant inside,
Willy Broom told us all over again the
glorious story of the taking of the
Passes told it with such fire and
passion that every man was feeling

for his sword, and every woman was
listening with flaming cheeks , and tears
like dewdrops on them. And I know
it was that night, when the martial
story was finished, that Willy told
another story to Adelaide Plessy, and
the end of that story was the grandest
wedding that had ever been seen by
Fallowlees or Otterburn.
It is forty-nine years ago, and yet
152 A CHRISTMAS REMINISCENCE.
but a few months since I met a gray-

haired woman, who had been my com-
panion at Broom, and she recalled
with me every emotion and event,
and added :
" Yes, they were married, Willy and
Adelaide, and though some of us have
been but poorly used since, as far as I
know they lived happily ever after-
ward. "
LITERARY FLOTSAM AND
JETSAM .
MRS. CRAIGIE (John Oliver Hobbes), who
is now in this country, is the most popular
woman writer in England. This is her first

visit to the United States in many years,
although she is an American by birth and
has many friends here. She is a woman

of great beauty and rare tact, as well as
wealth, and her social position in London is

a very enviable one. Her new novel will
be given the remarkable title of " The Herb

Moon."
An English syndicate, which does a large

business in newspapers in this country, cuts
153
154 LITERARY FLOTSAM AND JETSAM.
down the novels of its authors, -even the
most famous. Its editor is very skillful in
this respect, and does not hesitate to put a
blue pencil through the writings of the

most distinguished author. What the
writers think is not known, but they make
no complaints.
****
When Louis J. Jennings was alive, he

used to tell, with amusement, of an experi-
ence that he had when he was a sub-editor
of the London Times. A distinguished
Englishman died, and the editor-in-chief,
giving Mr. Jennings an obituary notice , told

him to cut it down from four columns to
two . The obituary had been written by
Lord Macaulay some years before !

****
Rider Haggard and William Le Queux

have a new rival in the person of Bertram
LITERARY FLOTSAM AND JETSAM. 155
Mitford, whose " White Shield " will ap-
pear in this country after the holidays.

Like Messrs. Haggard and Le Queux,
Mr. Mitford has gone to Africa for his
romance, and in consequence his book
abounds in fighting and strange incidents.
John M. Fox, whose recent books, de-
scribing life in Virginia, have been quite

successful, began his literary work as a
reporter on the New York Times. Journal-
ism , however, did not suit him, and he went
to Virginia during the Southern boom.

When that subsided he devoted himself en-
tirely to literature, and has also had good
success as a lecturer. He is a graduate of

Harvard, and has a refined face, as well as a
very attractive personality.
****
Sir Robert Peel, who has figured so

prominently in the papers during the last

year, has written a romance which will be
published early in 1896. It is a pure and

idyllic love story , entitled , " An Engage-
ment."
**
*
The value of Frank R. Stockton's literary
work has been greatly increased by the suc

cess of " Captain Horn, " which introduced
him to a larger circle of readers, and now he
is so busy that he is obliged to refuse many
flattering offers from publishers.
Another new novel announced is " The
Red Spell," by Francis Gribble. This was

published simultaneously on both sides of
the Atlantic, and an edition of five thousand
copies was exhausted in ten days, in Eng-

land alone. The story is one of love and
heroism in the time of the French Com-
mune.
*
It is very questionable whether Edward
W. Townsend's popularity will be increased
by his new book, " The Daughter of the

Tenements." His best friends think that
the book was too hastily written.
Burr Mackintosh, the Taffy of the Trilby
Company, is devoting himself quite vigor-
ously to literature . Besides writing foot-
ball reports for the newspapers, he has

published one short love story and a
humorous sketch of football. He is above
middlemen, and is his own publisher.

* *
*
James L. Ford has become the literary
critic, or more accurately speaking, the

"literary free lance " of the Morning Jour-

nal, which is now under the management of
W. R. Hearst. Mr. Ford's column will be
sure to be amusing, even if it does not

please authors and publishers.
****
James Lane Allen thinks his new story,
soon to be published , " The Butterflies, " the

highest point he has yet reached . It is
another Kentucky story, and on totally dif-
ferent lines from any of his previous books .

He has also in the hands of his publishers a
sequel to " A Kentucky Cardinal, " which he
calls " Aftermath, " and which is to be pub-

lished immediately .
FOR
THE ART INTERCHANGE 1896
The Oldest, Best, and Most Complete Art and House-
hold Monthly Magazine.
Indispensable to Art Workers and an invaluable guide in
all Branches of Home Decoration . Each number
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NEW FEATURES FOR 1896
Include among others :
A series of papers on FLOWER PAINTING, pre-
pared exclusively for THE ART INTERCHANGE by Paul de
Madonna, in colors- Size, Longpre, the greatest living flower painter ; a series on
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The Magazine will surpass all preceding volumes, and its position as the first
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THE CHRISTMAS NUMBER is now ready, and is unquestionably the
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THE DEVIL AND
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CONTENTS .**
The Devil and the Deep Sea.

RUDYARD KIPLING.
The Story of the Lime- Burner.
GILBERT PARKER.
The Recruit. ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.
A Strange Case of Telepathy.
LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
The Bishop's Ghost, and The Printer's
Baby. FRANK R. STOCKTON.
Saladin. FRANCIS GRIBBLE.
The Comb Didn't Calm Him .
OPIE READ.

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THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA. *
BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
All supplies very bad and dear, and there are no facilities
for even the smallest repairs. -SAILING DIRECTIONS.
HER nationality was British, but

you will not find her house-flag in the
list of our mercantile marine. She
was a nine-hundred-ton , iron , schooner-
rigged, screw cargo-boat, differing ex-
ternally in no way from any other
tramp of the sea. But it is with
steamers as it is with men. There are
those who will, for a consideration , sail

extremely close to the wind ; and, in
the present state of our fallen world,
such people and such steamers have
their use . From the hour that the
Aglaia first entered the Clyde- new,

2 THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA.
shiny, and innocent, —with a quart of

cheap champagne trickling down her
cut-water, -Fate and her owner, who
was also her captain, decreed that she
should deal with embarrassed crowned
heads, fleeing presidents, financiers
of over-extended ability, women to
whom change of air was imperative,
and the lesser law-breaking powers.
Her career led her sometimes into the
Admiralty courts, where the sworn
statements of her skipper filled his
brethren with envy. The mariner can-
not tell or act a lie in the face of the
sea or mislead a tempest, but, as
lawyers have discovered, he makes up

for chances withheld when he returns
to shore, an affidavit in either hand.
The Aglaia figured with distinction

in the great Mackinaw salvage case.
It was her first slip from virtue , and
she learned how to change her name,
but not her heart, and to run across
the sea. As the Guiding Light she
was very badly wanted in a South
THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA. 3
American port for the little matter of

entering the harbor at full speed ,
colliding with a valuable coal-hulk and
the State's only man-of-war, just as
that man-of-war was going to coal.
She put to sea without explanations,
though three forts fired at her for half
an hour. As the Julia M'Gregor she
had been concerned in picking up from
a raft certain gentlemen who should
have stayed in Noumea, but who pre-
ferred making themselves vastly un-
pleasant to authority in quite another
quarter of the world ; and as the Shah-
in-Shah she had been overtaken on
the high seas, indecently full of muni-

tions of war, by the cruiser of an
agitated power at issue with its neigh-
bor. That time she was very nearly
sunk, and her riddled hull gave emi-
nent lawyers of two countries great
profit. After a season she reappeared
as the Martin Hunt, painted a dull
slate color, with pure saffron funnels
and boats of robin's-egg blue, engag
ing in the Odessa trade till she was

invited (and the invitation could not
well be disregarded ) to keep away
from Black Sea ports altogether.
She had ridden through many waves
of depression in the shipping business.
Freights might drop out of sight , sea-
men's unions throw spanners and nuts
at certificated masters, or stevedores
combine till cargo perished on the
dockhead, but the boat of many names
came and went, busy, alert, and incon-
spicuous always . Her skipper, who in
a spasm of pride had compared her to
a servant girl in a house of ill-fame,
made no complaint of hard times, and
port officers observed that her crews
signed again aboard her with the regu-
larity of Atlantic liner boatswains.
Her name she changed as occasion
called ; her well-paid crew never, and a
large percentage of the profits of her
voyages was spent with an open hand
on her engine room. She never
troubled the underwriters, and very
seldom stopped to talk with a signal

station, for her business was urgent and
private.
But an end came to her tradings,
and she perished in this manner :
Deep peace brooded over Europe,

Asia, Africa, America, Australia, and
Polynesia. The powers dealt together
more or less honestly ; banks paid their
depositors to the hour ; diamonds of
price came safely to the hands of their
owners ; republics rested content with
their dictators ; diplomats found no
one whose presence in the least in-
commoded them ; and monarchs lived
openly with their lawfully wedded
wives. It was as though the whole
earth had put on its best Sunday bib
and tucker ; and business was very
bad for the Martin Hunt. The great
virtuous calm engulfed her, slate sides ,
yellow funnels, and all, but cast up in
another hemisphere the steam whaler
Haliotis, black and rusty, with a ma-
nure-colored funnel, a litter of dingy
white boats, and an enormous stove,
or furnace, for burning blubber on

her forward well-deck. There could
be no doubt that her trip was success-
ful, for she lay at several ports not too
well known, and the smoke of her try-
ing-out insulted the beaches.
Anon she departed at the speed of
the average London four-wheeler, and
entered a semi-inland sea, warm, still,
and blue, which is, perhaps, the most

strictly preserved water in the world.
There she stayed for three months,
under sail for the most part, and the
great stars of those mild skies beheld
her playing puss-in-the-corner among

islands where whales are never found.
All that time she smelt abominably,
and the smell, though fishy, was not
whalesome. In the middle of the
tenth week calamity descended upon
her from the island of Pygang-Watai ,
and she fled, while her crew jeered at
a fat black-and-brown gunboat puff-
ing far behind. They knew to the
last revolution the capacity of every

boat on those seas that they were anx-
ious to avoid. A British ship with a
good conscience does not, as a rule,

flee from the man-of-war of a foreign
power, and it is also a breach of eti-
quette to stop and search British ships

at sea. These things the skipper of
the Haliotis did not pause to prove ,
but held on at an inspiriting eleven

knots an hour till nightfall . One
thing only had he overlooked .
The power that kept an expensive
steam patrol moving up and down
.
those waters (the skipper had dodged
the two regular ships of the station
with an ease that bred contempt) had
newly brought up a third and a four-
teen-knot boat with a clean bottom to
help the work ; and that was why the
Haliotis, driving hard from the east to
the west, found herself at daylight in
such a position that she could not help
seeing an arrangement of four flags
a mile and a half behind, which
read : " Heave to, or take the conse-

quences. "
She had her choice, and she took it,
and the end came when, presuming on
her lighter draft and international eti-
quette, she tried to draw away north-
ward over a friendly shoal. The shell
that arrived by way of the chief engi-
neer's cabin was some five inches in
diameter with a practice, not a burst-

ing, charge. It had been intended to
cross her bows, and that was why it
knocked the framed portrait of the
chief engineer's wife-and she was a
very pretty girl- on the floor, splintered
his washhand-stand, crossed the alley
way into the engine room , and striking
on a grating, dropped directly in front
of the forward engine, where it burst,
neatly fracturing both the bolts that
held the connecting rod to the forward
crank.
What follows is worth consideration.
The forward engine had no more work

to do. Its released piston rod there-
fore drove up fiercely with nothing to

check it, and started most of the nuts
of the cylinder cover. It came down
again, the weight of the steam behind,

and the foot of the connecting rod, use-
less as the leg of a man with a sprained
ankle, flung out to the right and struck
the starboard or right-hand cast- iron
supporting column of the forward en-
gine ; cracking it clean through about
six inches above the base, and wedg-
ing the upper portion outward, three
inches toward the ship's side. There
the connecting rod jammed. Mean-
time, the after-engine, being as yet un-
embarrassed, went on with its work,
and, in so doing, brought round at its
next revolution the crank of the for-
ward engine, which smote the already

jammed connecting-rod, bending it,
and therewith . the piston rod cross-
head-the big cross-piece that slides
up and down so smoothly.
The crosshead jammed sideways in
the guides, and, in addition to putting
ΤΟ THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA.
further pressure on the already broken

starboard supporting column, cracked
the port, or left -hand supporting col-
umn in two or three places. There be
.
ing nothing more that could be made
to move, the engines brought up all
standing with a hiccough that seemed
to lift the Haliotis a foot out of the
water ; and the engine- room staff,
opening every steam outlet that they

could find in the confusion, arrived
on deck somewhat scalded, but calm.
There was a sound below of things
happening a rushing, clicking, pur-
ring, grunting, rattling noise that did
not last for more than a minute . It
was the machinery adjusting itself on

the spur of the moment to a hundred
altered conditions. Mr. Wardrop, one
foot on the upper grating, inclined his
ear sideways and groaned. You can-
not stop engines working at twelve
knots an hour in three seconds without
disorganizing them. The Haliotis slid
forward in a cloud of steam, shrieking
THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA. II
like a wounded horse. There was

nothing more to do. The five-inch
iron shell, with a reduced charge, had
settled the situation , and when you are
full, all three holds, of strictly pre-
served pearls ; when you have cleaned

out the Tanna bank, the Sea-Horse
bank, and four other banks from one
end to the other of the Amanala sea-
when you have ripped out the very

heart of a rich government monopoly
so that five years will not repair your
wrong-doings-you must smile and
take what is in store. But the skipper
reflected , as a launch put out from the

man-of-war, that he had been bom-
barded on the high seas, with the
British flag-several of them -pic-
turesquely disposed above him , and
tried to find comfort from the thought.
"Where"-said the stolid naval lieu-
tenant, as he hoisted himself aboard—
"where are those d- pearls ? "
They were there, beyond evasion.
No affidavit could do away with the
fearful smell of decayed oysters, the

diving dresses, and the shell-littered
hatches. They were there to the
value of seventy thousand pounds,
more or less ; and every pound
poached.
The man-of-war was annoyed , for
she had used up many tons of coal ;
she had strained her engines, and,
worse than all, her officers and crew
had been hurried. Everyone on the
Haliotis was arrested and rearrested
several times as each officer came
aboard ; then they were told, by what
they esteemed to be the equivalent of
a midshipman, that they were to con-
sider themselves prisoners, and finally
were put under arrest.
" It's not the least good, " said
the skipper suavely. " You'd much
better send us a tow-
" Be still-you are arrest ! " was the

reply.
"Where the devil do you expect we
are going to escape to ? We're help-
less. You've got to tow us into some-

where, and explain why you fired on
us. Mr. Wardrop, we're helpless,
aren't we ? "
"Ruined from end to end, " said the
man of machinery. " If she rolls, the
forward cylinder will come down and
go through her bottom. Both
columns are clean cut through.
There's nothing to hold anything
up. "
The council of war clanked off to
see if Mr. Wardrop's words were true.

He warned them that it was as much
as a man's life was worth to enter the
engine room ; and they contented

themselves with a distant inspection
through the thinning steam. The
Haliotis lifted to the long, easy swell
and the starboard supporting column.
ground a trifle, as a man grits his
teeth under the knife. The forward
cylinder was depending on that un-

known force men call the pertinacity
of materials, which, now and then, bal-
ances that other heart-breaking power,
the perversity of inanimate things.

"Yes, sir ! " Mr. Wardrop said,
hurrying them away. " The engines
aren't worth their price as old iron. "

"We tow," was the answer. "After-
ward we shall confiscate."
The man-of-war was short-handed ,
and did not see the necessity of put-
ting a prize crew aboard the Haliotis.
So she sent one sublieutenant, whom
the skipper kept very drunk, for he did
not wish to make the tow too easy,
and, moreover, he had an inconspicu-
ous little rope hanging from the stern
of his ship .
Then they began to tow at an aver-

age speed of four knots an hour. The
Haliotis was very hard to move, and
the gunnery lieutenant who had fired
the five-inch shell had leisure to think
upon consequences. Mr. Wardrop
was the busy man . He borrowed all
the crew to shore up the cylinders with

spars and blocks from the bottom and
sides of the ship. It was a day's risky

work ; but anything was better than
drowning at the end of a tow-rope ;
and if the forward cylinder had fallen ,
it would have made its way to the sea
bed and taken the Haliotis after.
" Where are we going to, and how

long will they tow us ?" he asked of
the skipper.
"God knows ! and the sublieuten-
ant's drunk. What do you think we
can do ?"
" There's just the bare chance "--

Mr. Wardrop whispered, though no
one was within hearing-" there's just
the bare chance o' repairin ' her, if a
man knew how. They've twisted the
very guts out of her, bringing her up
with that jerk ; but I'm saying that
with time and patience there's just the
chance o' making steam yet. We
could do it."
The skipper's eyes brightened .

" Do you mean, " he began, " that she
is any good ? "
" Oh, no ! " said Mr. Wardrop .

" She'll need three thousand pounds in
repairs at the lowest if she's to take
the sea again, an' that apart from any
injury to her structure. She's like a
man fallen down five pairs o ' stairs.
We can't tell for months what has
happened ; and we know she'll never

be good again without a new inside.
Ye should see the condensin ' tubes an'
the steam connections to the donkey,

for two things only. I'm not afraid of
them repairin' her. I'm afraid of them
stealin ' things."
66
They've fired on us. They'll have
to explain that. "
" Our reputation's not good enough
to ask for explanations. Let's take
what we have and be thankful. Ye
would not have consuls rememberin'
the Guidin' Light an' the Shah-in-

Shah, an' the Aglaia, at this most
alarmin' crisis. We've been no better
than pirates these ten years. Under
Providence , we're no worse than thieves
now, We've much to be thankful for,

if we ever get back to her. "
" Make it your own way, then, " said
the skipper, " if there's the least
chance-"
" I'll leave none, " said Mr. Wardrop ;
" none that they'll dare to take . Keep

her heavy on the tow, for we need
time."
The skipper never interfered with
the affairs of the engine room , and Mr.
Wardrop- an artist in his profession-
turned to and composed a work, terri-
ble and forbidding. His background
was the dark-grained sides of the
engine room ; his material the metals
of power and strength , helped out with
spars, balks, and ropes. The man-of-
war towed sullenly and viciously.
The Haliotis, behind her, hummed like
a hive before swarming. With extra
and totally unneeded spars her crew
blocked up the space round the for-
ward engine till it resembled a statue
in its scaffolding, and the butts of the
shores interfered with every view that

a dispassionate eye might wish to take.
And that the dispassionate mind might
be swiftly shaken out of its calm, the
well-sunk bolts of the shores were
wrapped round untidily with loose

ends of ropes, giving a studied effect
of most dangerous insecurity. Next
Mr. Wardrop took up a collection
.
from the after-engine , which , as you
will remember, had not been affected
in the general wreck. The cylinder
escape valve he abolished with a flog-
ging hammer. It is difficult in far-off
ports to come by such valves unless ,
like Mr. Wardrop, you keep duplicates
in store . At the same time men took
off the nuts of two of the great hold-
ing-down bolts that serve to keep the
engines in place on their solid bed.
Any engine violently arrested in mid-
career may jerk off the nut of a hold-
ing-down bolt, and this accident looked
very natural.
Passing along the tunnel, he removed
several shaft-coupling bolts and nuts,

scattering other and ancient pieces of
iron underfoot. Any engine, stopped
suddenly, may disorganize her shaft
coupling bolts, and this accident
seemed even more natural. Cylinder
bolts he cut off, to the number of six,
from the after-engine cylinder, so that
it might match its neighbor, and stuffed
the bilge feed pumps with cotton waste.
Then he made up a neat bundle of
the various odds and ends that he
had gathered from the engines-little

things like nuts and valve spindles, all
carefully tallowed, and retired with
them under the floor of the engine
room, where he sighed, being fat, as
he passed from manhole to manhole of
the double bottom, and in some fairly
dry submarine compartment hid them.

Any engineer, particularly in an un-
friendly port, has a right to keep his
spare stores where he chooses, and
the foot of one of the cylinder shores

blocked all entrance into the regular
storeroom, even if that had not been
already closed with steel wedges. In

conclusion he disconnected the after-
engine, laid piston and connecting rod ,

carefully tallowed, where it would be
most inconvenient to the casual visitor.
took out three of the eight collars of

the thrust block, hid them where only
he could find them again, filled the
boilers by hand, wedged the sliding
doors of the coal bunkers, and rested
from his labors. The engine room
was a cemetery, and it did not need a
bucketful of ashes, tipped over the sky-
light, to make it any worse.
He invited the skipper to look at
the completed work.
" Saw ye ever such a forsaken wreck
as that ? " said he proudly. " It almost
frights me to go under those shores.
Now, what d'you think they'll do to
us ? "
"Wait till we see, " said the skipper.
" It'll be bad enough when it comes.'
He was not wrong. The pleasant
days of towing ended all too soon,

though the Haliotis trailed behind her
a heavily weighted jib, stayed out into
the shape of a pocket, and Mr. War-
drop was no longer an artist of im-
agination but one of seven-and-twenty
prisoners in a prison full of insects.
The man-of-war had towed them to
the nearest port, not to the head-
quarters of the colony, and when Mr.
Wardrop saw the dismal little harbor,
with its ragged line of Chinese junks,

its one crazy tug, the boat-building
shed, that, under the charge of a philo-
sophical Malay, represented a dock-
yard, he sighed and shook his head.
" I did well," he said . "This is the
habitation o' wreckers an' thieves.
We're at the uttermost ends of the
earth. Think you they'll ever know in

England ?"
" Doesn't look like it, " said the
skipper.
They were marched ashore with
what they stood up in, under a gener-
ous escort, and were judged according

to the customs of the country, which,
though excellent, are out of date.
There were the pearls ; there were the
poachers ; and there sat a small , but
hot, governor. He consulted for a
while, and then things began to move
with speed, for he did not wish to keep
a hungry crew at large on the beach,
and the man- of-war had gone up the
coast. With a wave of his hand - a
stroke of the pen was not necessary-
he consigned them to the blackgang-
tana, the back country, and the hand
of the law removed them from his
sight and the knowledge of men.
They were marched into the palms
and the back country swallowed them
up-all the crew of the Haliotis.
Deep peace continued to brood over
Europe, Asia, Africa, America, Austra-
lia, and Polynesia.
It was the firing that did it. They

should have said nothing about it, but
when a few thousand foreigners are
bursting with joy over the fact that a

ship under the British flag had been
fired at on the high seas, news travels
quickly ; and when it came out that
the pearl-stealing crew had not been
allowed access to their consul (there
was no consul within a few hundred
miles of that lonely port) even the

friendliest of powers has a right to ask
questions. The great heart of the
British public was beating furiously on
account of the performance of a notor-
ious race horse, and had not a throb
to waste on distant accidents ; but
somewhere deep in the hull of the ship

of state there is machinery which more
or less accurately takes charge of for-
eign affairs. That machinery began
to revolve, and who so pained and sur-
prised as the power that had captured
the Haliotis ? It explained that co-
lonial governors and far away men-
of-war were difficult to control, and
promised that it would most certainly
make an example both of the governor
and the vessel. As to the crew, re-
ported to be pressed into military serv-

ice in tropical climes, it would produce
.
them as soon as possible, and it would
apologize, if necessary. Now no apolo-
gies were needed. When one nation
apologizes to another, millions of ama-
teurs who have no earthly concern with
the difficulty hurl themselves into the
strife and embarrass the trained spe-
cialist. It was requested that the crew

be found, if they were still alive, they
had been eight months beyond knowl-
edge, —and it was promised that all
would be forgotten.
The little governor of the little port
was pleased with himself. Seven -and-
twenty white men made a very com-

pact force to throw away on a war
that had neither beginning nor end-
a jungle-and-stockade fight, that flick-
ered and smoldered through the wet,
hot years in the hills a hundred miles
away, and was the heritage of every
wearied official. He had, he thought,
deserved well of his country ; and if

only someone would buy the unhappy
Haliotis, moored in the harbor below
his veranda, his cup would be full.
He looked at the neatly silvered lamps
that he had taken from her cabins , and
thought of much that might be turned
to account. But his countrymen , in
that moist climate, had no spirit.

They would peep into the silent en-
gine room and shake their heads.
Even the men-of-war would not tow
her further up the coast, where the

governor believed that she could be
repaired. She was a bad bargain ; but

her cabin carpets were undeniably
beautiful, and his wife approved of her
mirrors.
Three hours later cables were burst-
ing round him like shells, for, though

he knew it not, he was being offered
as a sacrifice by the nether to the upper
millstone, and his superiors had no
regard for his feelings. He was, said
the cables, an ass who had exceeded
his power, and failed to report on

events. He would therefore - at this
he cast himself back in his hammock
-
he would produce the crew of the
Haliotis. He would send for them ,
and if that failed , he would put his

dignity on a pony and fetch them him-
self. He had no conceivabl right to
e
make pearl-poachers serve in any war.
He would be held responsible.
Next morning the cables wished to
know whether he had found the crew
of the Haliotis. They were to be
found and freed and fed- he was to
feed them- till such time as they could
.
be sent to the nearest English port
in a man-of-war. If you abuse a man
long enough, in great words flashed
over the sea-beds, things happen. The
governor sent inland swiftly for his
prisoners, who were also soldiers, and
never was a militia regiment more
anxious to reduce its strength . No
power short of death could make these
madmen wear the uniform of their
service ; they would not fight, except

with their fellows, and it was for that
reason the regiment had not gone to
war, but stayed in a stockade, reason-
ing with the new troops. The autumn
campaign had been a fiasco , but here
were the Englishmen . All the regi-
ment marched back to guard them, and
the hairy enemy, armed with blowpipes,
rejoiced in the forest. Five of the
crew had died, but there lined up on
the governor's veranda two-and-twenty
men marked about the legs with the
scars of leech bites. Five of them
wore fringes that had once been
trousers, the others used loin-cloths of
gay patterns ; and they existed, beau-
tifully but simply, in the governor's

veranda, and when he came out they
sang at him. If you have lost seventy
thousand pounds' worth of pearls, your
pay, your ship, and all your clothes,
and have lived in bondage for eight
months beyond the faintest pretenses
of civilization, you know what true
independence means, for you become

the happiest of created things-natural
man.
The governor told the crew they

were evil, and they asked for food.
When he saw how they ate, and when
he remembered that none of the pearl-
patrol boats were expected for two
months, he sighed. But the crew of
the Haliotis lay down in the veranda
and said that they were pensioners
on the governor's bounty. A gray-

bearded man, fat and bald-headed, his
one garment a green and yellow loin-
cloth, saw the Haliotis in the harbor
and bellowed with joy. The men
crowded to the veranda rail, kicking
aside the long cane chairs. They
pointed, gesticulated, and argued freely
without shame. The militia regiment.
sat down in the governor's garden.
The governor retired to his hammock.
It was as easy to be killed lying as
standing, and his women squeaked
from the shuttered house.
" She sold ? " said the gray-bearded

man, pointing to the Haliotis. He
was Mr. Wardrop.

" No good," said the governor, shak-
ing his head. " No one come buy. "
" He's taken my lamps, though," said
the skipper. He wore half a pair of
trousers and his eye wandered along
the veranda . The governor quailed .
There were cuddy campstools and the
skipper's writing table in plain sight.
" They've cleaned her out, o'
course ," said Mr. Wardrop . " They
would. "
"We'll go aboard and take an in-

ventory. See ! " He waved his hands
over the harbor. " We- live-there
-now. Sorry ? ”
The governor smiled a smile of re-
lief.
" He's glad of that," said one of the

crew reflectively. " I don't wonder. "
They flocked down to the harbor
front, the militia regiment clattering
behind, and embarked themselves in
what they found- it happened to be

the governor's boat. Then they disap-
peared over the bulwarks of the Hali-
otis, and the governor prayed that they
might find occupation inside.
Mr. Wardrop's first bound took him
into the engine room , and when the
others were patting the well-remem-
bered decks, they heard him giving
God thanks that things were as he had
left them. The wrecked engines stood
over his head, untouched ; no inexpert
hand had meddled with his shores ; the
steel wedges of the storeroom were
rusted home ; and, best of all, the hun-
dred and sixty tons of good Austra-
lian coal in the bunkers had not
diminished ,
"I don't understand it," said Mr.
""
Wardrop. Any Malay knows the
use o' copper. They ought to have
cut away the pipes. And with Chinese
junks coming here, too . It's a special
interposition o' Providence.'
" You think so ? " said the skipper,
from above. "There's only been one

thief here, and he's cleaned her all out
our side."
Here the skipper spoke less than the

truth , for under the planking of his
cabin, only to be reached by a chisel,
lay a little money which never drew
any interest-his sheet anchor to
windward. It was all in clean sove-
reigns that pass current the world over,
and might have amounted to more
than a hundred pounds.
" He's left me alone. Let's thank
God," repeated Mr. Wardrop .
" He's taken everything else—look ! "
The Haliotis, except as to her
engine room, had been systematically

and scientifically gutted from one end
to the other, and there was strong evi-
dence that an unclean guard had
camped in the skipper's cabin to regu-

late the plunder. She lacked glass,
plate, crockery, cutlery, mattresses,
cuddy carpets and chairs, all boats, and
her copper ventilators. These things
had been removed , with her sails, and

as much of the wire rigging as would
not imperil the safety of the masts.
" He must have sold those ," said the
skipper. " The other things are in his

""
house, I suppose ."
Every fitting that could be pried or

screwed out was gone. Port, star-
board, and masthead lights ; teak grat-
ings ; sliding sashes of the deck house ;
the captain's chest of drawers, with
charts and chart table ; photographs ,
brackets, and looking glasses ; cabin
doors ; rubber cuddy mats ; hatch
irons ; half the funnel stays ; cork
fenders ; carpenter's grindstone and
tool chest ; holystone , swabs , squee-
gees, all cabin and pantry lamps ; gal-
ley fittings en bloc ; flags and flag
locker ; clocks ; chronometers ; the for-
ward compass and the ship's bell and
belfry were among the missing.
There were great scarred marks on
the deck planking, over which the
cargo derricks had been hauled. One
THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA 33
must have fallen by the way, for the

bulwark rails were smashed and bent,
and the iron side plating bruised.
" It's the governor, " said the skip-
per. " He's been selling her on the
installment plan. "
" Let's go up with spanners and

shovels and kill ' em all !" shouted the
crew. " Let's drown him and keep the
women ! "
" Then we'll be shot by the black-

and-tan regiment our regiment.
What's the trouble ashore ? They've
camped our regiment on the beach. "
" We're cut off, that's all. Go and
see what they want," said Mr. War-
99
drop. " You've the trousers. "
In his simple way the governor was
a strategist. He did not desire that
the crew of the Haliotis should come
ashore again, either singly or in de-

tachments, and he proposed to turn
their steamer into a convict hulk.
They would wait, he explained this

from the quay to the skipper in the
barge, and they would continue to

wait, till the man-of-war came along,
exactly where they were. If one of
them set foot ashore, the entire regi-

ment would open fire, and he would
not scruple to use the one cannon of
the town . Meantime food would be
sent daily in a boat under an armed

escort. The skipper, bare to the
waist, and rowing could only grind his

teeth, and the governor improved the
occasion , and revenged himself for the
bitter words in the cables, by telling
what he thought of the morals and

manners of the crew. The barge
returned to the Haliotis in silence,

and the skipper climbed aboard, white
on the cheek bones and blue about
the nostrils.
"I knew it," said Mr. Wardrop,
"and they won't give us good food,

either. We shall have bananas morn-
ing, noon, and night, an' a man can't

work on fruit. We know that."
Then the skipper cursed Mr. War-

drop for importing frivolous side issues

into the conversation , and the crew
cursed one another and the Haliotis,
and all that they knew or could bring
to mind. Then they sat down in
silence on the empty decks, and their
eyes burned in their heads. The
green harbor water chuckled at them
overside. They looked at the palm-
fringed hills inland ; at the white
houses above the harbor road, at the
single tire of native craft by the quay,
at the stolid soldiery sitting around
the one cannon , and, last of all, at the
blue bar of the horizon. Mr. War-
drop was buried in thought, and
scratched imaginary lines with his

untrimmed finger nails on the plank-
ing.
" I make no promise, " he said at
last, " for I can't say what may or may
not have happened to them. But
here's the ship, and here's us."

There was a little scornful laughter
at this, and Mr. Wardrop knitted his
brows. He recalled that in the days

when he wore trousers he had been
chief engineer of the Haliotis.
66
Harland, Macksey, Noble, Hay,
Naughton , Fink, O'Hara, Trunbull.”
""
Here , sir ! " The instinct of obedi
ence waked to answer the roll-call of
the engine room.
" Below ! "
They rose and went.
66
Captain, I'll trouble you for the
rest of the men as I want them.
We'll get my stores out, and clear

away the stores we don't need, and
then we'll patch her up. My men will
remember that they're in the Haliotis
under me."
He went into the engine room, and

the others stared. They were used to
the accidents of the sea, but this was
beyond their experience. None who
had seen the engine room believed
that anything short of new engines
from end to end could stir the Haliotis
from her moorings.
The engine-room stores were un-

earthed, and Mr. Wardrop's face, red
with the filth of the bilges and the
exertion of traveling on his stomach ,
lit with joy. The spare gear of the
Haliotis had been unusually complete ,
and two-and-twenty men armed with
screw-jacks, differential blocks, tackle,
vises, and a forge or so, can look Kis-
met between the eyes without wink-
ing. The crew were ordered to re-
place the holding- down and shaft-
bearing bolt, and return the collars of
the thrust block. When they had
finished Mr. Wardrop delivered a
lecture on repairing compound engines
without the aid of a dockyard, and the
men sat about on the cold machinery.
The crosshead jammed in the guides
leered at them drunkenly, but offered
no help. They ran their fingers hope-
lessly into the cracks of the starboard
supporting column , and picked at the
ends of the ropes round the shores,
while Mr. Wardrop's voice rose and
L
38 THE DEVI AND THE DEEP SEA .
fell, echoing till the quick tropic night

closed down over the engine- room
skylight.
Next morning the work of recon-
struction began.
It has been explained that the foot

of the connecting rod was forced
against the foot of the starboard sup-
porting column, which it had cracked
through and driven outward against
the ship's skin. To all appearances
the job was more than hopeless, for

rod and column seemed to have been
welded in one. But here Providence
smiled on them for one moment, to
hearten them through the weary weeks
ahead. The second engineer-more
reckless than resourceful-struck at
random with a cold chisel into the cast
iron of the column , and a greasy gray
flake of metal flew from under the im-
prisoned foot of the connecting rod,

while the rod itself fell away slowly,
and brought up with a thunderous

.
clang somewhere in the dark of the
crank-pit. The guide-plates above

were still jammed fast in the guides,
but the first blow had been struck.
They spent the rest of the day groom-

ing the donkey engine, which stood
immediately forward of the engine-
room hatch. Its tarpaulin , of course ,
had been stolen, and eight warm
months had not improved the working
parts. Further, the last dying hic-
cough of the Haliotis seemed—or it
might have been the Malay from the
boathouse-to have lifted the thing
bodily on its bolts and set it down in-
accurately, as regarded its steam con-
nections.
" If we only had one cargo derrick ! "
Mr. Wardrop sighed. " We can take
the cylinder cover off by hand, if we
sweat, but to get the rod out of the
piston's not possible unless we
steam . Well, there'll be steam the
morn, if there's nothing else. She'll
fizzle everywhere. "
Next morning men from the shore
saw the Haliotis through a cloud, for

it was as though the deck smoked.
Her crew were chasing steam through
the shaken and leaky pipes to its work
in the forward donkey engine : and
where oakum failed to plug a hole,
they stripped off their loin-cloths for
lapping, and swore, half-boiled and
mother-naked . The donkey engine
worked at a price-the price of con-

stant attention and furious stoking-
worked long enough to allow a wire
rope- it was made up of a funnel and a
foremast-stay- to be led into the engine
room and made fast on the cylinder
cover of the forward engine. That
rose easily enough, and was hauled
through the skylight and on to the
deck, many hands assisting the doubt-
ful steam. Then came the tug of war,
for it was necessary to get to the piston
.
and the jammed piston rod. They
screwed an iron screw plate onto the
piston, doubled the wire rope, and set
half a dozen men to smite with an
THE DEVIL AND THe deep sEA. 4I
extemporized battering ram at the end

of the piston rod, where it peered
through the piston, while the donkey
engine hauled upward on the piston
itself. After four hours of this furious
work, the piston rod suddenly slipped
and the piston rose with a jerk, knock-
ing one or two men over into the
engine room . But when Mr. Wardrop
declared that the piston had not split,
they cheered and thought nothing of
their wounds, and the donkey engine
was hastily stopped, for its boiler was
no thing to tamper with. And day by
day their supplies reached them by
boat. The skipper humbled himself
once more before the governor, and as
a concession had leave to get drinking
water from the Malay boat-builder on
the quay. It was not good drinking
water, but the Malay was anxious to
supply anything in his power if he were
paid for it.
Now, when the jaws of the forward

engine stood, as it were, stripped and
empty, they began to wedge up the

shores of the cylinder itself. That
work alone filled the better part of
three days- warm and sticky days,
when the hands slipped and sweat ran
into the eyes. When the last wedge
was hammered home there was no
longer an ounce of weight on the sup-
porting columns ; and Mr. Wardrop
rummaged the ship for boiler plate,
three-quarters of an inch thick, where
he could find it. There was not much
available , but what there was was
more than beaten gold to him . In

one terrible forenoon the entire crew,
naked and lean, hauled back, more or
less into place, the starboard support-
ing column, which, as you remember,
was cracked clean through. Mr. War-
drop found them asleep where they
had finished the work, and gave them
a day's rest, smiling upon them like a
father as he drew chalk marks about
the cracks. They woke to new and

more trying labor, for over each one
of those cracks a plate of three-

quarter-inch boiler iron was to be
worked hot ; the rivet-holes being

drilled by hand. All that time they
were fed on fruits-chiefly bananas,
with some sago.
Those were the days when men

swooned over the ratchet drill and the
hand forge, and where they fell they

had leave to lie unless their bodies
were in the way of their fellows ' feet.
And so, patch upon patch, and a patch
over all, the starboard supporting col-
umn was clouted ; but when they
thought all was secure Mr. Wardrop

decreed that the noble patchwork
would never support working engines.
At best it could only hold the guide
bars approximately true. The dead
weight of the cylinders must be borne

by vertical struts, and therefore a gang
would repair to the bows and take out
with files the big bow-anchor davits,
each of which was some three inches
in diameter. They threw hot coals at

Wardrop, and threatened to kill him,

those who did not weep (they were
ready to weep on the least provoca-
tion) ; but he hit them with iron bars.
heated at the end, and they limped
forward, and the davits came with
them when they returned. They slept
sixteen hours on the strength of it,
and in three days two struts were in
place, bolted from the foot of the star-
board supporting column to the under
side of the cylinder. There remained
now the port, or condenser column ,
which, though not so badly cracked
as its fellow, had also been strength-
ened in four places with boiler- plate
patches , but needed struts. They
took away the main stanchions of the
bridge for that work, and, crazy with

toil, did not see till all was in place
that the rounded bars of iron must be
flattened from top to bottom to allow

the air pump levers to clear them. It
was Wardrop's oversight, and he wept
bitterly before the men as he gave the
order to unbolt the struts and flatten

them with hammer and the flame.
Now the broken engine was under-
pinned firmly, and they took away the
wooden shores from under the cylin-
ders and gave them to the robbed
bridge, thanking God for even half a
day's work on gentle, kindly wood in-
stead of the iron that had entered into
their souls. Eight months in the back

country, among the leeches, at a tem-
perature eight-four degrees moist, is
very bad for the nerves.
They had kept the hardest work
to the last, as boys save Latin prose,
and worn as they were, Mr. Wardrop
did not dare to give them rest. The
piston rod and connecting rod were to

be straightened, and this was a job for
a regular dockyard with every appli-
ance. They fell to it, cheered by a
little chalk showing of work done and
time consumed, which Mr. Wardrop
wrote upon the engine bulkhead. Fif-
teen days had gone-fifteen days of

killing labor-and there was hope

before them.
But it is curious that no man knows
how the rods were straightened. The

crew of the Haliotis remember that
week very dimly, as a fever patient re-

members the delirium of a long night.
There were fires everywhere, they say ;
the whole ship was one consuming fur-
nace, and the hammers were never still.
Now there could not have been more
than one fire at the most, for Mr. War-
drop distinctly recalls that no straight-
ening was done except under his own
eye. They remember, too, that for
many years voices gave orders which
they obeyed with their bodies, but their
minds were abroad on all the seas. It
seems to them that they stood through

days and nights, slowly sliding a bar
backward and forward through a
white glow that was part of the ship.

They remember an intolerable noise in
their burning heads from the walls of
the stokehole, and they remember be-
ing savagely beaten by men whose eyes

seemed asleep . When their shift was
over they would draw straight lines in.
the air, anxiously and repeatedly, and
would question one another in their
sleep, crying, " Is she straight ?"
At last- they do not remember
whether this was by day or night— Mr.
Wardrop began to dance clumsily and.
wept the while, and they, too , danced
and wept and went to sleep, twitching
all over ; and when they woke men said
that the rods were straightened and no
one did any work for two days, but lay
on the decks and ate fruit. Mr. War--
drop would go below from time to
time and pat the two rods where they
lay, and they heard him singing hymns.
Then his trouble of mind went from
him, and at the end of the third day's
idleness he made a drawing in chalk
upon the deck, with letters of the
alphabet at the angles. He pointed

out that, though the piston -rod was.
more or less straight, the piston-rod.
crosshead-the thing that had been

jammed sideways in the guides— had
been badly strained , and had cracked
the lower end of the piston rod. He
was going to forge and shrink a
wrought-iron collar on the neck of the
piston rod where it joined the cross-
head, and from the collar he would
bolt a Y-shaped piece of iron , whose
lower arms should be bolted into the
crosshead. If anything more were
needed, they could use up the last of
the boiler plate.
So the forges were lit again, and

men burned their bodies, but hardly
felt the pain. The finished connection
was not beautiful, but it seemed strong
enough--at least as strong as the rest
of the machinery ; and with that job
their labors came to an end . All that
remained was to connect up the
engines and to get food and water.

The skipper and four men dealt with
the Malay boat-builder, by night
chiefly ; it was no time to haggle over
the price of sago and dried fish. The
others stayed aboard and replaced

piston, piston rod , cylinder cover, cross-
head, and bolts with the aid of the
faithful donkey engine. The cylinder
cover was hardly steam-proof, and the
eye of science might have seen, in the
curve of the connecting rod, a flexure
something like that of a Christmas-
tree candle which had melted and
been straightened by hand over a
stove ; but, as Mr. Wardrop said :

" She didn't hit anything ."
As soon as the last bolt was in place,

men tumbled over one another in their
anxiety to get to the hand starting

gear, the wheel and worm by which
engines can be moved where there
is no steam aboard. They nearly
wrenched off the wheel ; but it was
evident to the blindest eye that the
engines moved. They did not revolve
in their orbits with any enthusiasm , as
good machines should ; indeed, they
groaned not a little ; but they moved
over and came to rest in a way which

proved that they still recognized man's
hand. Then Mr. Wardrop sent his
slaves into the darker bowels of the
engine room and stokehole and fol-
lowed them with a flare lamp. The
boilers were sound, but would take no
harm from a little scaling and cleaning.
Mr. Wardrop would not have anyone
over zealous, for he feared what the
next stroke of the tool might show.

"The less we know about her now,"
said he, "the better for us all, I'm
thinkin'. Ye'll understand me when
I say that this is in no sense regular

engineerin'. "
As all his raiment, when he spoke,
was his gray beard and uncut hair,
they believed him . They did not ask
too much of what they met, but pol-
ished and tallowed and scraped it to
a false brilliancy.
" A lick of paint would make me
easier in my mind," said Mr. Wardrop
plaintively. "I know half the con-
denser tubes are started ; and the pro-

peller shaftin's God knows how far out
of the true, and we'll need a new air-
pump, an' the main-steam leaks like a
sieve, and there's worse each way I
look, but- paint's like clothes to a
man, an' ours is near all gone. "
The skipper unearthed some stale
ropy paint of the loathsome green that
they used for the insides of sailing-
ships, and Mr. Wardrop spread it
abroad lavishly to give the engines.
self- respect.
His own was returning day by day,
for he wore his loin- cloth continuously;
but the crew, having worked under
orders, did not feel as he did ; the com-
pleted work satisfied Mr. Wardrop .
He would at the last have made shift
to run to Singapore, and gone home

without vengeance taken, but the
others and the captain forbade him.
They had not yet recovered their self-
respect.
"It would be safer to make what ye
might call a trial trip, but beggars

mustn't be choosers, an' if the engines
.
will go over to the hand-gear the prob-
ability -I'm only saying it's a prob-
ability—the chance is that they'll hold
up when we put steam on her."
" How long will you take to get
steam ?" asked the skipper.
66
God knows ! Four hours a day
-half a week. If I can raise sixty
pounds, I'll not complain. "

“ Be sure of her, first ; we can't
afford to go out half a mile and break
down," said the skipper.
66
My soul and body, man , we're one
continuous breakdown, fore and aft !
We might fetch Singapore, though. "
" We'll break down at Pygang.
Watai, where we can do good, " was
the answer, in a voice that did not al-
low argument. " She's my boat, and
-I've had eight months to think in. "

No man saw the Haliotis depart,
though many heard her. She left at
two in the morning, having cut her

moorings, and it was none of her
crew's pleasure that the engines should

strike up a thundering half-seas- over
chantry, that echoed among the hills.
Mr. Wardrop wiped away a tear as he
listened to the new song.
" She's gibberin'-she's just gib-

berin'," he whimpered. " It's the voice
.
of a maniac."
And if the engines have any soul,
as their masters believe, he was quite
right. There were outcries and clam-
ors, sobs and bursts of chattering
laughter, silences where the trained ear
yearned for the clear note, and tortur-
ing reduplications where there should
have been one deep voice. Down the
screw shaft ran murmurs and warnings,
while a heart-diseased flutter without
told that the propeller needed re-key-
ing.
" How does she make it ?" said the
skipper.
"She moves, but-she's breaking
my heart. The sooner we're at
Pygang-Watai the better. She's mad,

and we're waking the town. "
" Is she at all near safe ? "
" What do I care how safe she is ?
She's mad. Hear that, now ! To be
sure, nothing's hittin' anything, and

the bearin's are fairly cool , but—can
ye hear ?"
"If she goes," said the skipper. "I
don't care a curse, and she's my boat,
too."
She went, trailing a fathom of weed

behind her. From a slow two knots an
hour she crawled up to a triumphant
four. Anything beyond that made the
struts quiver dangerously and filled
the engine room with steam. Morning
showed her out of sight of land, and
there was a visible ripple under her
bows ; but she complained bitterly in
her bowels, and as though the noise
had called it, there shot along across the
level sea a swift, dark prau , hawklike
4
and curious, which presently ranged
alongside and hailed, and wished to
know if the Haliotis were helpless.

Ships, even the steamers of the white
men, had been known to break down
in those seas, and the honest Malay

and Javanese traders would sometimes
aid them in their own peculiar way.
But this ship was not full of lady

passengers and well-dressed officers.
Men, white men, naked and savage,
swarmed down her sides, some with
iron bars red-hot at the ends, and
others with large hammers, threw
themselves upon those innocent, in-
quiring strangers, and before any man
could say what had happened , were in
full possession of the prau, while the law-

ful owners bobbed in the water overside.
Half an hour later the prau's cargo of
sago and tripang, as well as a doubtful-
minded compass, was in the Haliotis.
The two huge triangular mat sails,
with their seventy-foot yards and
booms, had followed the cargo, and
were being fitted to the stripped masts
of the steamer.
They rose, they swelled, they filled,

and the empty steamer visibly laid
over as the wind took them . They
gave her nearly three knots an hour,
and what better could men ask ? But,
if she had been forlorn before, this new
purchase made her horrible to see.
Imagine a respectable charwoman in
the tights of a ballet-dancer rolling
drunk along the streets, and you will
come to some faint notion of the
appearance of that nine-hundred-ton ,
well-decked , once schooner-rigged cargo
boat as she staggered under her new
canvas, shouting and raving across the
deep. With steam and sail that mar-
velous voyage continued ; and the
bright-eyed crew looked over the rail,
desolate, unkempt, unshorn , shame-
lessly clothed- beyond the decencies.
At the end of the third week she
sighted the island of Pygang-Watai,

whose harbor is the turning point of
a pearling sea patrol. Here the gun-
boats stay for a week ere they retrace
their line. There is no village at
Pygang-Watai ; only a stream of water,

some palms, and a harbor safe to rest in
till the first violence of the southeast
monsoon has blown itself out. They

opened up the low coral beach with its
long mound of whitewashed coal ready
for supply, the deserted huts for the
sailors, and the flagless flag-staff.
Next day there was no Haliotis-
only a little prau rocking in the warm
rain at the mouth of the harbor, whose
crew watched with hungry eyes the
smoke of a gunboat on the horizon.
Months afterward there were a few
lines in an English paper to the effect

that some gunboat of some foreign
power had broken her back at the
mouth of some far-away harbor by run-

ning at full speed into a sunken wreck.
THE STORY OF THE
LIME-BURNER . *
BY GILBERT PARKER.
FOR a man in whose life there had
been tragedy he was cheerful. He

had a habit of humming vague notes
in the silence of conversation , as if to
put you at your ease. His body and
face were lean and arid, hiseyes
oblique and small, his hair straight and

dry and straw-colored ; and it flew out,
crackling with electricity, to meet his.
cap as he put it on . He lived alone in
a little hut near his lime-kiln by the

river, with no near neighbors, and few
companions save his four dogs, and
these he fed sometimes at expense of
his own stomach. He had just enough

58
THE LIME-BURNER. 59
crude poetry in his nature to enjoy his

surroundings. For he was well placed .
Behind the lime-kiln rose knoll on
knoll , and beyond these the verdant

hills, all converging to Dalgrothe
mountain. In front of it was the river
with its banks dropping forty feet, and
below the rapids, always troubled and
sportive. On the farther side of the
river lay peaceful areas of meadow and
corn land, and low-roofed, hovering
farmhouses, with one larger than the
rest, having a windmill and a flag-
staff. This building was almost large
enough for a manor, and indeed it was
said that it had been built for one
just before the conquest in 1759, but

the war had destroyed the ambitious
owner, and it had become a farmhouse.
Garrote always knew the time of the

day by the way the light fell on the
windmill. He had owned this farm
once, he and his brother Fabian, and
he had loved it as he loved Fabian , and
he loved it now as he loved Fabian's
60 THE STORY OF
memory. And in spite of all , they

were cheerful memories, both of
brother and house.
At twenty-three they were orphans,

with two hundred acres of land, some.
cash, horses, and cattle , plenty of credit

in the parish, or in the county, for that
matter. Both were of hearty disposi-
tions, but Fabian had a taste for liquor,

and Henri for pretty faces and shapely
ankles. Yet no one thought the worse
of them for that, especially at first.
An old servant kept house for them .
and cared for them in her honest way,
both physically and morally. She lec-

tured them when at first there was
little to lecture about. It is no wonder
that, when there came a vast deal to
reprove, good Agatha desisted alto-
gether, overwhelmed by the weight

of it.
Henri got a shock the day before

their father died, when he saw Fabian
lift the brandy used to mix with the
milk of the dying man, and pouring
THE LIME-BURNER. 61
out the third of a tumbler, drink it off,

smacking his lips, as he did so , as
though it were a cordial. That gave
him a cue to his future and to Fabian's.
After their father died Fabian gave
way to the vice. He drank in the
taverns, he was at once the despair and
the joy of the parish ; for wild as he
was, he had a gay temper, a humorous
mind, a strong arm, and was the uni-
versal lover. The curé, who did not,
of course, know one-fourth of his wild-
ness, had a warm spot for him in his
heart. But there was a vicious streak
in him somewhere, and it came out
one day in a perilous fashion.
There was in the hotel of the Louis
Quinze an English servant from the

west, called Nell Barraway. She had
been in a hotel in Montreal, and it was
there Fabian had seen her as she
waited on table. She was a splendid-
looking creature, all life and energy,

tall, fair-haired, and with a charm above
her kind. She was also an excellent
62 THE STORY OF
servant, could do as much as any two

women in any house, and was capable
of more airy diablerie than any ten in
Pontiac. When Fabian had said to
her in Montreal that he would come,
he told her where he lived. She came
to see him instead , for she wrote to

the landlord of the Louis Quinze, in-
closed five testimonials, and was imme-
diately engaged. She came, and Fa-
bian was stunned when he entered the
Louis Quinze and saw her waiting on
table, alert, busy, good to see. She
nodded at him with a quick smile as he

stood bewildered just inside the door,
then said in English, for he understood
it fairly : " This way, monsieur. "
As he sat down he said in English
also, with a laugh and with snapping
eyes : " Good Lord ! what brings you
here, Ladybird ? "
.
As she pushed a chair under him
she almost hissed through his hair,
" You ! " and then was gone away to
fetch pot au feu for six hungry men.

THE LIME-BURNER. 63
The Louis Quinze did more busi-

ness now in three months than it had
done before in six. But it became
known among a few in Pontiac that

Nell was notorious. How it had
crept up from Montreal no one knew,
and when it did come her name was
very intimately associated with Fa-
bian's. No one could say that she
was not the most perfect of servants,
and also no one could say that her life
in Pontiac had not been exemplary.
Yet wise people had made up their

minds that she was determined to marry
Fabian, and the wisest declared that she
would in spite of everything-religion
(she was a Protestant) , character, race.
She was clever,- as the young seigneur
found, as the little avocat was forced to
admit, as the curé allowed with a sigh
-and she had no airs of badness at
all and very little of usual coquetry.
Fabian was enamored, and it was clear
that he intended to bring the woman
to the manor, one way or another.
64 THE STORY OF
Henri admitted the fascination of
the woman, felt it, despaired , went to

Montreal, got proof of the career,
came back, and made his final and only
effort to turn his brother from the
girl.
He had waited an hour outside the
hotel , and when Fabian got in, he
drove on without a word. After a
while, Fabian, who was in high spirits,
said :
""
Open your mouth, Henri. Come
along, sleepy-head. "
Straightway he began to sing a
rollicking song, and Henri joined in
with him , heartily, for the spirit of
Fabian's humor was contagious :
" There was a little man,
The foolish Guilleri,
Carabi.
He went unto the chase,
Of partridges the chase,
Carabi.
Titi Carabi,
Toto Carabo,
You're going to break your neck,
My lovely Guilleri.”
THE LIME-BURNER. 65
He was about to begin another

verse, when Henri stopped him, saying :
" You're going to break your neck,
Fabian."
" What's up, Henri ? " was the reply,

" You're drinking hard, and you
don't keep good company. "
Fabian laughed. " Can't get the
company I want, must have what I can
get, Henri , my dear."

"Don't drink. " Henri laid his free
hand on Fabian's knee.
" Must. Born in me. Loved it like
cream from the rock-a-bye."

Henri sighed. " That's the drink,
Fabian," he said patiently.
" Give up the company."
" You'd give up the company ? "
" Blessed if I wouldn't. You're the
best company in the world."
" Give me your hand."
They shook hands. Fabian drew
out a flask, and began to uncork it.
" I'll be better company for you than
that girl, Fabian. "

66 THE STORY OF
" Girl ? What the devil do you

mean ? "
" She, Nell Barraway, was the com-

pany I meant, Fabe. "
" Nell Barraway-you meant her ?
Bosh ! I'm going to marry her, Henri. "
" You must not, Fabe, " said Henri,
eagerly clutching Fabian's sleeve.
" I must, and there's an end of it.
She's the handsomest, cleverest girl

I ever saw ; she's splendid. Never
lonely a minute with her."
" Beauty and cleverness aint every-
thing, Fabe. "
" Isn't it though ? Isn't it ? You
just try it. "
66
They aint, without goodness. "
Henri's voice weakened.
" That's rot. Of course it is, Henri,
my dear. If you love a woman, if she
gets hold of you, gets into your blood,
loves you, so that the touch of her
fingers sets your pulses flying, you

don't care a d — whether she is good
or not."
THE LIME-BURNER. 67
" You mean whether she was good

or not ? "
66
' No, I don't. I mean is good or
not. For, if she loves you , she'll travel
straight for your sake. Pshaw ! You
""
don't know anything about it. '
" I know all about it,"
" Know all about it ! You're in love
-you ?"
" Yes."
Fabian sat open-mouthed for a

minute. " Go-dam !" he said. It was
his one English oath.

" Is she good company ? " he asked
after a minute.
" She's the same as you keep- the
very same. "
"You mean Nell-Nell ? " asked
Fabian, in a dry, choking voice.
""
Yes, Nell. From the first time I
saw her. But I'd cut my hand off first.
I'd think of you ; of our people that
have been here for two hundred years ;
of the rooms in the old house where
mother used to be. Look here, Fabe,
68 THE STORY OF
you said you'd give up her company

for mine. Do it !"
" I didn't know you meant her,
Henri . Holy Heaven , and you've got
her in your blood, too ! "
""
' Yes, but I'd never marry her.
Fabe, at Montreal I found out all
about her. She was as bad- "
" That's nothing to me, Henri, ” said

Fabian, " but something else is. Here
you are now. I'll stick to my bargain. "
His face showed pale in the moonlight.
" If you'll drink with me, do as I do,
go where I go, play the devil when I
play it, and never squeal, never hang
back, I'll give her up. But I've got
to have you got to have you all the

time, everywhere, hunting, drinking, or
letting alone. You'll see me out, for
you're stronger, had less of it. I'm for
the little low bye-yearly. Stop the
horses ! "
Henri stopped them, and they got

out. They were just opposite the
lime-kiln, and they had to go a few
THE LIME-BURNER. 69
hundred yards before they came to the

bridge to cross the river to their home.
The light of the fire shone in their
faces as Fabian handed the flask to
Henri, and said : " Let's drink to it,
Henri. You half of that, and me
half." He was deadly pale.
Henri drank to the finger-mark set,
and then Fabian lifted the flask to his
lips.
" Good-by, Nell, " he said. " Here's
to the good times we've had ! " He
emptied the flask, and threw it over
the bank into the burning lime, and
the old lime-burner, being half asleep,
did not see or hear.
The next day they went on a long
hunting expedition, and the next
month Nell Barraway left for Mont-
real, pale and hollow- eyed.
Henri kept to his compact, drink
for drink, sport for sport. One year
the crops were sold before they were
reaped, horse and cattle went little by
little, then came mortgage, and still
70 THE LIME-BURNER.
Henri never wavered , never weakened ,

in spite of the curé and all others.
The brothers were always together,
and never, from first to last, did Henri
lose his temper, or openly lament that
ruin was coming surely on them.
What money Fabian wanted he got.

The cure's admonitions availed noth-
ing, for Fabian would go his gait.

The end came on the very spot where
the compact had been made , for, pass-
ing the lime-kiln one dark night, as he
and Henri rode home together, his
horse shied, the bank of the river gave
way, and with a startled " Henri ! "
Fabian and his horse were gone into
the river below.
Next month the farm and all were
sold, Henri succeeded the old lime-
burner at his post, drank no more ever,
and lived his life in sight of the old
home.
THE RECRUIT.
BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.
SEZ Corporal Madden to Private Mc-

Fadden :
" Be gob, ye're a bad 'un !

Now turn out yer toes !
Yer belt is unhookit,
Yer cap is on crookit,
Ye may not be dhrunk,
But, be jabers, ye look it !
Wan-two !
Wan-two !
Ye monkey-faced divil, I'll jolly ye
through !
Wan-two !
Time ! Mark !
Ye march like the aigle in Cintheral

Parrk !"
71
72 THE RECRUIT.
Sez Corporal Madden to Private Mc-

Fadden :
"A saint it ud sadden
To dhrill such a mug !
Eyes front !-ye baboon, ye !—

Chin up !-ye gossoon, ye !
Ye've jaws like a goat-
Halt -ye leather-lipped loon ,
ye !
Wan-two !
Wan-two !
Ye whiskered orang-ou-tang, I'll fix

you !
Wan- two !—
Time ! Mark !
Ye've eyes like a bat ; can ye see in

the dark ? "

Fadden :
" Yer figger wants padd'n'—

Sure man, ye've no shape !
Behind ye yer shoulders
Stick out like two bowlders ;
Yer shins is as thin
THE RECRUIT. 73
As a pair of pen-holders !
Wan- two !
Wan-two !
Yer belly belongs on yer back, ye

Jew !
Wan- two !
Time ! Mark !
I'm dhry as a dog- I can't shpake but

I bark !"

Fadden :
" Me heart it ud gladden

To blacken yer eye.
Yer gettin' too bold , ye

Compel me to scold ye-
'Tis halt ! that I say, -
Will ye heed what I told ye ?

Wan-two !
Wan- two !
Be jabers, I'm dhryer than Brian Boru !

Wan- two !
Time ! Mark !
What's wur-ruk for chickens is sport
for the lark ! "
74 THE RECRUIT.

Fadden :
" I'll not stay a gadd'n'

Wid dagoes like you !
I'll travel no farther,
I'm dyin' for- wather ;

Come on , if ye like , -
Can ye loan me a quarther ?

Ya-as, you .
What-two ?
And ye'll pay the potheen ? Yer a

daisy ! Whurroo !
You'll do !-
Whisht- Mark,
The Regiment's flathered to own ye,

me spark ! "
A STRANGE CASE OF
TELEPATHY . *
BY LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
THE flies were so very busy. No
doubt, as they buzzed in and out of

the open window, they thought they
were accomplishing a vast deal, though
it did not seem so to the young couple
who looked on. Perhaps there are
eyes that watch us-eyes to which our
little ambitions and achievements
seem as trivial , as inconsequent , as the

busy flies seem to us.
The May afternoon was more than
warm- it was hot. Summer had hur-
ried into the world, unexpected and un-

invited. Perhaps that was what made
75
76 A STRANGE CASE
Jasmyn Meredith lend a little pink ear

to something she had resolved, over
and over, that she would not hear-the
passionate, illogical, altogether absurd,

love-making of a young fellow who
would not have taken his university
degree till a month later on. He was
twenty-one, to be sure, and she only

eighteen, but at eighteen a girl believes
herself already a woman .
She listened ; and then she said, with
a smile :
" Why, you are a boy ! '

" A wise boy," he answered , " who
knows enough to love you ; and who
will have all the longer time in which
to love you , because he begins early. "
" I'm glad you are to be a lawyer,"
she answered, somewhat irrelevantly,
as it seemed to Robert Marsh.
"Why ?" he ventured.
" Because I now see that you have,
after all, a logical mind. Your powers
of argument might be thrown away in
any other profession. " And then she
OF TELEPATHY. 77
added : " It takes a good while to get

admitted to the bar. "
" It shan't take very long in my
case," he answered, "if you will promise
me my reward for making haste."
" Oh, yes ! " she said. " I will come
to court and hear your first plea."
" That ! " he cried, a little scornfully.
" No, I want you to listen in private
to my first argument, and be con-
vinced by it. "
" Ah ! but you are not a lawyer yet
-you must wait. "
"You can keep me waiting as long
as you please- it is for you to say—
but I have told you that I love you.
You can't get away from that. I'll
trust you to remember, and when any
other man tells you the same story, I
-I will be his judge. You shall think
of my love and my words, and you
shall ask yourself whether he loves
you as well."
Jasmyn smiled a little at this out-
burst, and then she said, with an air of
78 A STRANGE CASE
sweet tolerance : " Dream your dream,

gentle youth. It may keep you from
some worse folly ! "
" And you will not even be here for
class day ? "
" No, we sail on Saturday. My
mother is half English by birth, and
more than half at heart. She is sigh-
ing for Mayfair. We shall go to New
York to-morrow."
" And this is good-by ? "

He looked for a moment into her
eyes. His lips were athirst for hers-
but he knew her too well to venture
on anything she would have the right

to resent. He contented himself with
a hand-clasp ; but there was a tone in

his voice she would not soon forget, as
he said : " You will remember ! "
Three years went by, and still Mrs.

Meredith and her daughter had not
returned to America. May and June
found them in London. Later on
they went to Homburg- beloved of

OF TELEPATHY. 79
the Prince of Wales and Mr. Chauncey

Depew. They divided their winters
between Rome and the Riviera.
Robert Marsh heard of their move-
ments only from the kind newspapers ,
for Jasmyn had decreed that there
should be no correspondence. It
would hinder him in his studies, she

said, and she had no time for it. She
thought of him, now and then , and
wondered a little whether as she put
it to herself- he was as foolish as ever.
In fact, she thought of him most often

at the times when she should have
thought of him least-when some
other man appeared inclined to tell
her the old story.
She was a social success, even in
London , where there are so many fair
competitors ; but she deftly managed

to avoid proposals, for the most part ;
and, when she had to say no, to say
it so gently as to make no enemies.
Her mother had not interfered hither-
to. Mrs. Meredith was too wise a
80 A STRANGE CASE
woman not to hasten slowly ; but now

the time seemed to her to have come
when a son -in-law would be desirable.
" You are twenty-one now, " she said
to Jasmyn .
66
'Yes, mumsie. Of course you can
easily remember my birthday, since

you, also, are a Mayflower. "
"Yes, and a year before I was
twenty-one I had married your father.
He never caused me but one sorrow,
and that was when he died. I wish
you as happy a lot as my own, and I
think you are old enough to marry."
Jasmyn lifted her pretty eyelids in
such wise that they asked a question.
"Yes," her mother answered mus-
ingly. " Perhaps you have not seen ,
but I , who have lived twice as long as
you, can see clearly, that Lord Gains-
ford is only waiting his opportunity to
ask you to be Lady Gainsford."
"That old fellow ! " cried Jasmyn
irreverently.
" He is thirty-nine, " said Mrs. Mere-
OF TELEPATHY. 81
dith, smiling. " That does not seem

so venerable to most of the world as it
seems to you . Do you see anything
else in him to complain of ?"
" I haven't thought. Why should
I? He is very well, I suppose, but I
see no reason why I should care for
him more than for another."
" Ah, well ! You must know him
.
"1
better.'
And the opportunity was not long
in coming. It seemed as if fate were
on the side of his lordship. Wher-
ever the Merediths went they were
sure to meet him- and he let it be
seen, clearly enough, that it was for

Jasmyn's sake he had come. He did
not trouble himself to dance with any-
one else. He was at her side when
she rode in the Park, and if she went
to a garden party, there he was also.
Jasmyn was flattered, naturally. To
receive, without seeking, what a score
of other girls sought vainly, had a
distinct charm of its own, and Lord
82 A STRANGE CASE
Gainsford had the advantage of being

old enough to know the world and its
ways. He was distinctly highbred.
He was handsome in his own way, and
manly, as the best type of Englishman

always is. .
Why she was not in love
with him , Jasmyn herself could not
have told you. Indeed, she thought
that very possibly she should be, later
on.
One night they were sitting out a
dance which she had promised him.
He had persuaded her to go into the
conservatory, instead of dancing, and
she sat on a low seat over which some
strange foreign plant leaned. An
odor, that seemed like incense burned
at the shrine of some old-time god ,
half intoxicated her. And there and
then Lord Gainsford told his love
story. She had charmed him from the
first, he said, and now he loved her.
Would she- At that very instant
it seemed to her as if she heard a voice
from far, oh, so far, away-a voice that

OF TELEPATHY. 83
said : " Wait ! " And just then, before

she had spoken at all, her partner for
the next dance appeared and Lord
Gainsford said, with that cool self-
possession that belonged to his age
and his rank : " I shall see you to-
morrow. "
That night sleep did not come to

Jasmyn. She lay with wide-open eyes,
vaguely wondering : What should she
say to Lord Gainsford ? Could she
love him—and why not ? Would she

be happy as his wife ? How much
there would be to make her so !
Then suddenly it seemed to her as

if the room opened its windows to the
stars and the infinite night, and she
looked far, far off, as perhaps we all
shall look when Death has taken us by
the hand and led us far away from
what we now call life. She knew that
her vision had gone beyond the sea,

and that it was a room in New York in
which she saw a young man writing.

He had just turned a page. She did
84 A STRANGE CASE
not know how his letter began, but she

read these words :
" I am twenty-four now, and you are

twenty-one. You can no longer call
me a boy. I was admitted to the Bar
a year ago. I have succeeded so well
that in October I shall make my first
important plea. Remember that you
promised to hear it. I will cross the
sea and bring you back in time. I
shall be with you almost as soon as
this letter. I have obeyed you hitherto
in keeping silence. I write now be-
cause I wish you to know, before we
meet, that I am unchanged."
And when she had read thus far it

seemed to her that suddenly the win-
dows that had opened to the vastness
of the night were closed and she was
alone.
What did it all mean ? She was not
asleep. It was no dream. Plainly as

if she had held the sheet in her own
OF TELEPATHY. 85
hands, she had read those written

words. Plainly as if he had been in
the room with her, she had seen Robert
Marsh. What had made this possi-
ble ? Could it be that she had cared
for him all along more than she knew ?

And he would be on his way to her-
perhaps almost at once. She should
see him, hear him, understand, per-
haps , by what unknown power this
vision had been vouchsafed. How
should she answer Lord Gainsford to-
morrow ? Then , once more, as if from
some farthest star, she heard, as she
had heard in the conservatory, the one
word-"Wait ! "
Yes, she would wait. She would
decide nothing until she knew. She
turned on her side and drew a long,
calm breath , and then sleep, the delin-
quent, kissed her parted lips and led
her at last into dreamland.
The next day Lord Gainsford
pleaded his own cause, but he pleaded

in vain.
86 A STRANGE CASE
"If you will wait two weeks," Jasmyn
said, " I will answer you then. If I

say anything to-day it must be ' no.'
I do not feel that I understand myself.
Will you give me time, or shall it end
here ?"
Of course he gave her time. He

turned to Mrs. Meredith . Mrs. Mere-
dith was his senior by three years,
therefore she was a safe as well as a
sympathetic confidante .
The two weeks were not over, in fact
only nine days had passed , when a let-
ter came to Jasmyn , in a hand she used
to know. She opened it. She read

the first page, and then she turned the
leaf, and there she saw the very sen-
tences she had read when the windows.
of her maiden chamber opened into the

infinite night.
And that same day Robert Marsh
followed his letter. Then Jasmyn
Meredith knew for the first time her
own heart's secret. The love that was
strong enough to conquer time and
OF TELEPATHY. 87
space and speak to her across the

estranging sea was the love of her own
life, as well as of her lover's.
The next day she told her mother
that she had made up her mind.
Naturally Mrs. Meredith did not like
it, but she was helpless. John Mere-
dith had left his fortune to be equally
divided between his daughter and his
wife, and after Jasmyn was twenty-one
she was absolutely her own mistress.
Mrs. Meredith would fain have been
mother-in-law to a lord, but there was
nothing to be said against Robert
Marsh, so she quietly resigned herself
to the inevitable.
" You deserve," she said to Jasmyn,
with a little vexed laugh, “ that I should
marry Lord Gainsford myself. " And
that is precisely what she did six
months later.
THE BISHOP'S GHOST AND THE
PRINTER'S BABY. *
BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.
AROUND the walls of a certain old

church there stood many tombs, and
these had been there so long that the
plaster with which their lids were fas-
tened down had dried and crumbled so
that in most of them there were long
cracks under their lids, and out of
these the ghosts of the people who had
been buried in the tomb were in the
habit of escaping at night.

This had been going on for a long
time, and, at the period of our story,
the tombs were in such bad repair that
every night the body of the church was
Copyright, 1895, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.

88
THE PRINTER'S BABY. 89
so filled with ghosts that before day-

light one of the sacristans was obliged
to come into the church and sprinkle
holy water everywhere. This was
done to clear the church of ghosts

before the first service began, and who
does not know that if a ghost is
sprinkled with holy water it shrivels
up ? This first service was attended
almost exclusively by printers on their
way home from their nightly labors on
the journals of the town.
The tomb which had the largest
crack under its lid belonged to a bishop
who had died more than a hundred
years before, and who had a great

reputation for sanctity ; so much so,
indeed, that people had been in the
habit of picking little pieces of plaster
from under the lid of his tomb and
carrying them away as holy relics, to
prevent disease and accidents .
This tomb was more imposing than
the others, and stood upon a pedestal
so that the crack beneath its lid was
90 THE BISHOP'S GHOST
quite plain to view, and remarks had

been made about having it repaired.
Very early one morning, before it
was time for the first service, there
came into the church a poor mason.
His wife had recently recovered from a
severe sickness, and he was desirous of
making an offering to the church . But
having no money to spare, he had de-
termined that he would repair the
bishop's tomb, and he consequently
came to do this before his regular
hours of work began.
All the ghosts were out of their

tombs at the time, but they were gath-
ered in the other end of the church,
and the mason did not see them , nor
did they notice him ; and he immedi-
ately went to work. He had brought
some plaster and a trowel, and it was
not long before the crack under the lid
of the tomb was entirely filled up and
the plaster made as smooth and neat
as when the tomb was new.
When his work was finished, the
AND THE PRINTER'S BABY. 91
mason left the church by the little side-

door which had given him entrance.
Not ten minutes afterward the
sacristan came in to sprinkle the
church with holy water. Instantly the

ghosts began to scatter right and left,
and to slip into their tombs as quickly
as possible , but when the ghost of the
good bishop reached his tomb he found
it impossible to get in. He went
around and around it, but nowhere

could he find the least little chink by
which he could enter. The sacristan
was walking along the other side of

the church, scattering holy water, and
in great trepidation the bishop's ghost
hastened from tomb to tomb, hoping
to find one which was unoccupied , into

which he could slip before the sprink-
ling began on that side of the church.
He soon came to one which he
thought might be unoccupied, but he

discovered to his consternation that it
was occupied by the ghost of a young

girl who had died of love.
" Alas ! alas ! " exclaimed the bish-
op's ghost. " How unlucky ! Who

would have supposed this to be your
tomb ? "
" It is not really my tomb," said the

ghost of the young girl. " It is the
tomb of Sir Geoffrey of the Marle, who

was killed in battle nigh two centuries
ago. I am told that it had been empty
for a long time, for his ghost has gone
to Castle Marle. Not long ago I came
into the church, and , finding this tomb
unoccupied, I settled here."
" Ah, me !" said the bishop's ghost,
"the sacristan will soon be around here
with holy water. Could not you get
out and go to your own tomb ? Where

is that ? "
" Alas, good father ! " said the ghost

of the young girl, " I have no tomb. I
was buried plainly in the ground, and

I do not know that I could find the
place again. But I have no right to

keep you out of this tomb, good
father ; it is as much yours as it is
mine, so I will come out and let you

enter. Truly, you are in great danger.
As for me, it doesn't matter very much
whether I am sprinkled or not. "
So the ghost of the young girl
slipped out of Sir Geoffrey's tomb,
and the bishop's ghost slipped in, but
not a minute before the sacristan had
reached the place . The ghost of the

young girl flitted from one pillar to
another until it came near the door,
and there it paused, thinking what it

should do next. Even if it could find
the grave from which it had come, it

did not want to go back to such a
place ; it liked churches better.
Soon the printers began to come in
to the early morning service. One of
them was very sad, and there were
tears in his eyes. He was a young
man, not long married, and his child, a
baby girl, was so sick that he scarcely
expected to find it alive when he should
.
reach home that morning.
The ghost of the young girl was

attracted by the sorrowful printer, and

when the service was over and he had
left the church it followed him, keeping
itself unseen. The printer found his
wife in tears ; the poor little baby was
very low. It lay upon the bed, its eyes
shut, its face pale and pinched, gasp-
ing for breath .
The mother was obliged to leave the
room for a few moments to attend to
some household affair, and her hus-
band followed to comfort her, and
when they were gone the ghost of the

young girl approached the bed and
looked down on the little baby. It
was nearer death than its parents sup-

posed, and scarcely had they gone
before it drew its last breath.
The ghost of the young girl bowed

its head ; it was filled with pity and
sympathy for the printer and his wife.
In an instant, however, it was seized
with an idea, and the next instant it
had acted upon it. Scarcely had the
spirit of the little baby left its body
than the spirit of the young girl

entered it.
Now a gentle warmth suffused the
form of the little child, a natural color
came into its cheeks , it breathed quietly
and regularly, and when the printer
and his wife came back they found
their baby in a healthful sleep. As
they stood amazed at the change
in the countenance of the
it child,
opened its eyes and smiled upon them .
" The crisis is past ! " cried the

mother. " She is saved, and it is all
because you stopped at the church,
instead of hurrying home, as you
wished to do . "
The ghost of the young girl knew that

this was true, and the baby smiled again.
It was eighteen years later, and the

printer's baby had grown into a beau-
tiful young woman. From her early
childhood she had been fond of visit-
ing the church, and would spend hours

among the tombs reading the inscrip-
S
96 THE BISHOP' GHOST
tions, and sometimes sitting by them,

especially by the tomb of Sir Geoffrey
of the Marle. There, when there was
nobody by, she used to talk with the
bishop's ghost.
Late one afternoon she came to the
tomb, with a happy smile on her face.

"Holy father," she said, speaking
softly through the crack, " are you not
tired of staying so long in this tomb
.
which is not your own ? "
" Truly, I am , daughter," said the
bishop's ghost ; " but I have no right
to complain. I never come back here
in the early morning without a feeling
of the warmest gratitude to you for
having given me a place of refuge.
My greatest trouble is caused by the
fear that the ghost of Sir Geoffrey of
the Marle may sometime choose to
return . In that case I must give up
to him his tomb. And then, where,

oh where, shall I go ? "
Holy father," whispered the girl,
"do not trouble yourself. You shall
have your own tomb again, and need

fear no one."
'How is that ? " exclaimed the
bishop's ghost. "Te
" ll
Tell me quickly,
""
daughter.
" This is the way of it," replied the
young girl : "When the mason plas-
tered up the crack under the lid of
your tomb he seems to have been very
careful about the front part of it, but
he didn't take much pains with the
back, where his work wasn't likely to
be seen, so that there the plaster has
crumbled and loosened very much, and
with a long pin from my hair I have
picked out ever so much of it, and now
there is a great crack at the back of
the tomb, where you can go in and
come out just as easily as you ever did.
As soon as night shall fall you can
leave this tomb and go into your
own."
The bishop's ghost could scarcely

speak for thankful emotions, and the
happy young girl went home to the
98 THE BISHOP'S GHOST.
house of her father, now a prosperous
man, and the head printer of the town.

The next evening the young girl
went to the church and hurried to the
bishop's tomb. Therein she found the
bishop's ghost, happy and content.
Sitting on a stone projection at the
back of the tomb, she had a long con-
versation with the bishop's ghost,
which, in gratitude for what she had
done, gave her all manner of good ad-
vice and counsel. " Above all things ,
my dear daughter," said the bishop's
ghost, " do not repeat your first great
mistake. Promise me that never will
you die of love."
The young girl smiled. " Fear not,
good father," she replied. "When I

died of love I was, in body and soul ,
but eighteen years old, and knew no
better ; now, although my body is but
eighteen, my soul is thirty-six. Fear
not, never again shall I die of love. "
SALADIN . *
BY FRANCIS GRIBBLE.
THE great building was packed from

floor to ceiling. Even the legend
" Standing Room Only " had been
removed from the entrance, and that
of " House Full " substituted for it.
It always was so when the great
Saladin, as he called himself, walked
the tight rope. For the people love
above all things to gape at dangerous
performances ; and when Saladin
walked the tight rope there was no

net stretched to catch him, if he fell.
A fall, in his case, they knew, meant
death and hideous mutilation.
Eagerly and
impatiently they
awaited his appearance. The artists
99
100 SALADIN.
who preceded him played to an inattent-

ive audience. No one showed any
interest when the juggler balanced

plates upon his forehead ; only the
front row of the stalls regarded the
skirt dancers ; the efforts of the comic
singers were lost in the buzz of a thou-
sand conversations. But at last, at
ten o'clock precisely, the number of
Saladin's turn went up, and the people
clapped their hands and stamped their
feet and cheered.
He kept them waiting a few minutes.

It was his custom-the device by
which he insured himself a second out-
break of the applause which he en-

joyed. Then he stepped out on the
tiny stage, close to the roof, from
which the tight rope started, and flung
off his picturesque cloak, and showed
himself arrayed in all the splendor of
his flesh-colored tights and gay green
trunks.
A handsome man beyond a doubt ;
a man of symmetrical and well-knit
SALADIN. ΙΟΙ
frame ; a man whose muscular arms

and chest and shoulders bespoke his
perfect training. His eyes had that
clear, limpid look which tells of perfect
physical health ; the firm outlines of
his mouth and chin spoke of determi-
nation and fearless resolution. The
men gazed at him with envy ; the
women with an admiration akin to
that which the bull-fighter excites in
more hot blooded-lands.
" Bravo ! bravo ! bravo ! " they
shouted.
And some of the women whispered
to one another, as women will on such
occasions :
" Oh, how dreadful if he should
fall !"
Saladin looked down from his giddy

height through hazy space upon the
mass of upturned faces and drank in
the delicious incense of their applause.
Then, as the band began to play the
prelude of a popular waltz, he osten-
tatiously blew a kiss toward a box
102 SALADIN.
where a little woman , with a scared

look in her eyes, sat watching him.
She had forebodings -vague forebod-
ings born of ominous dreams — that
something terrible would befall that
night. So she had told him, and now
he blew her a kiss before that great
multitude , to reassure her.
And yet she was not reassured.
Not that she doubted , for an instant,
her lover's sureness of foot, or steadi-
ness of head. Only she had seen a face
in the stalls, and a pair of eyes had met
hers and frightened her. She clutched
suddenly at the sleeve of her companion.
" Look ! " she cried hysterically.
66
' Yes, dear ; what is it ?"
46
' My husband . He is sitting below
there."
""'Your husband ! "
" Yes. I left him to run away with
Saladin . Didn't you know ? He'll do

something dreadful , I know he will . I
must run and tell Saladin . Let me go,
Kitty ! "
SALADIN. 103
The other tried to calm her.

" You can't, dear," she said. " It's
too late. The turn's just beginning. "
" But I can't bear to look at it,
Kitty."
" Then come outside , dear. There's
no danger, really ; but if you stay here
you may scream and frighten him . "
And so saying, she took her by the
arm and led her out gently to the
ladies' cloakroom, and made her drink
a little brandy.
Meanwhile the strains of the Myoso-
tis Waltz were already floating through
the building, and Saladin , all ignorant
of the little woman's fears for him, had
grasped the balancing pole and walked
out upon the tight rope.
It stretched from end to end of the
hall, some eighty feet or so above the
floor, and Saladin walked along it,
ambled along it, and tripped along it,
as easily and safely as a man who
crosses a plank bridge over a tiny
brook. He stood on it on one foot ;
104 SALADIN.
he knelt on it ; he sat astride of it. He

even crossed it blindfold, with a sack
drawn over his head. The multitude
gazed at him, open-eyed and open-

mouthed, and every time he got back
to his little platform in midair, roared
tumultuous applause.
Then came the feature of the even-
ing for which everyone had been wait-

ing with anxious curiosity. The man-
ager of the hall stepped out on the
stage and made a speech.
" Ladies and gentlemen," he shouted,
46
we have now arrived at the final item
in Saladin's entertainment. Saladin
asks me to say that, if any member of

the audience will intrust himself to his
care, he is willing to carry him across

the tight rope on his back."
There was a great silence, broken
presently by the voices of those who
pressed the offer on their neighbors.
The manager repeated his proposal :
" I can assure you, ladies and
gentlemen," he said, " that there is not
SALADIN. 105
the slightest danger. If any gentle-

man will
will cross the tight rope on
Saladin's back, Saladin will absolutely
guarantee his safe return . "
Again there was a silence, growing

gradually to a murmur ; and then a
long tempest of vociferous cheers as a
man in evening dress was seen to rise
in his place in the stalls and climb the
flight of steps which gave access to
the stage.
66
Who is he ? "
The question passed rapidly from

mouth to mouth, and at first none could
answer it. But presently a man in the
front seats whispered to his neighbors :

"By Jove ! that's the man whose
wife ran away with Saladin ."
To which the neighbor replied :
"Ugly little brute ! I'm not sur-
prised." And then, after a pause,

" But what's his game, I wonder ? He
means mischief of some sort, I'll war-
rant. What do you think ? Oughtn't
we to tell the manager to stop it ? "
106 SALADIN.
What's the use ? It's not our

business. Saladin can stop it himself,
if he wants to."
"True ; so he can. "
So they whispered to each other,
while the woman's husband was
hoisted, amid ringing rounds of cheers,

to the platform where stood the man
who had robbed him of his wife.
There was nothing heroic, nothing

inspiring about his presence . Look-
ing at him, one hardly knew whether
to say that he was too ugly to be in-

significant or too insignificant to be
ugly. He was, in short, a miserable
scarecrow of a man. Beside the
athlete he looked more contemptible
than ever. To anyone who knew the
story it would have seemed no wonder
that the athlete had been preferred to
him, even by the woman who wore his
wedding ring. He saw and knew all
this himself ; he had seen and known
it ever since his rival had come across
his path ; and the knowledge added
SALADIN. 107
both to his bitterness and to his

hate.
The eyes of the two men met. It
was the first time since the little
woman had left her home that Saladin
had seen the man whom he had
wronged ; and they looked at each
other long and steadfastly. There
were two attendants with them on the
platform , and, in their presence,
neither cared to speak the thoughts
that were uppermost in his mind.
But Saladin's eyes fell at length before
the other's gaze, and fear was visible
in his face, and he began to stammer
out a refusal to go further with this.
last item of his entertainment .
" If you are afraid" -the other whis-
pered, beneath his breath-" if you are
afraid, it does not matter.'
Still Saladin hesitated.
" Very well," the man said. " Now
I see that you are a coward. "

The word stung Saladin to the
quick. He was not used to have his
108 SALADIN.
courage questioned ; perhaps there

were few men whose courage was less
questionable. He gripped hold of one
of the ropes by which the platform was
suspended for a moment, while a
crowd of thoughts shot through his
brain. And foremost among his
thoughts was the thought that he

owed this man some reparation for the
wrong that he had done him. After
all, the man might have shot or

stabbed him unawares. If this was
the satisfaction he preferred, what

right had he to refuse it to him ? So
he turned to him and said simply :
" I am no coward. Come ! "
And the attendant helped the man
on to his back and handed him the
balancing pole, and they passed out

together upon the tight rope.
Saladin had no delusions, no false
hopes. He knew, though the other
had whispered no word of his inten-
tions, that he was walking the tight
rope for the last time in his life. It
SALADIN. 109
surprised him a little that no brutal

recriminations were hissed into his
ear ; he did not understand this silent
vengeance. It surprised him a little,
too, that he was allowed to traverse
the hall once in safety ; but even that
did not buoy him with any expecta-
tions of a safe return .
He regretted nothing. If he could.

have had his life again, he would have
done the same with it. What he had
done still seemed worth while, even
though this was what the doing of it
brought him to. And yet it was an
awful end ! Already the man upon
his back had knotted his fingers firmly
around his throat in readiness to jerk
him from his precarious foothold .
A thought struck him. Since the
end was inevitable, why wait for it ?
Since both must die , better to be the
murderer than the murdered ! It was
the one triumph left for him.
The idea tickled him, and he
chuckled to himself.
110 SALADIN.
Then, of a sudden, he dropped the

balancing pole and threw himself into
the air just as the band was playing
the first notes of " See, the Conquer-
ing Hero Comes. ”
THE COMB DIDN'T CALM HIM . *
BY OPIE READ.
SIMPSON COUNTY, Ky. , was in a great
political ferment over the approaching

election of a county judge. The nomi-
nating convention was to meet on
Saturday, and, on Friday night, two

well-known politicians, caught in a
rain storm, stopped at the house of old
John Perdue. The politicians, Major
Bloodgood and Colonel Noix , were sly
candidates for the coveted position, so
sly, in fact, that neither one knew of
the schemes of the other.
After supper, while old John and his
guests were sitting on the porch, talk-
ing over the coming struggle and
listening to a wet katydid that held
* Copyright, 1890, by Bacheller & Co.
III
112 THE COMB DIDN'T CALM HIM.
vesper services in a locust tree, old

John, getting up and stretching him-
self, said to the major :
" Let me see you a moment, please. "
The major followed him to the end
of the gallery. Major," old John
whispered, " I am compelled to tell
you something. You gentlemen are
welcome to stay as long as you like,
but ability to accommodate cannot
always be measured by willingness to
do so . The truth is, I have but one
spare bed."
" But can't the colonel and I sleep
together ? " the major rejoined .
" Yes, you can, but the truth is, the
colonel is awfully peculiar."
" How so ?"
"" appears
"Well, as rational as he
stirring about, he's a strange man in
bed. Our families, you know, are well
acquainted , and I therefore know all
about him. His peculiarity comes
from a scare he received when he was
a child. It seems that a dog once
THE COMB DIDN'T CALM HIM. 113
tried to bite him ; and now, just as he

dozes off to sleep, he begins to growl,
and unless something is done to stop
him, he begins to bite fearfully."
Humph ! " the major grunted.
" That's odd ; but what can be done
to stop him after he begins to growl ? "
64
Well, his brother told me how he
used to work it. He always took a
coarse comb to bed with him, and
would rake the colonel with it when
he began to growl. As strange as it

may seem , it was the only thing that
would quiet him . The family doctor
said that a comb was somehow the
only thing that would start the blood
.
to circulating. "
" That's very odd. And would it
quiet him ? "
" Would make him act just like a
lamb. Why, he used to insist that his
brother take the comb to bed with him.
He don't like for anyone to mention

the freakish misfortune, as he always
terms it, but it would be doing him a
great favor if you would take the comb

to bed with you , in case he should be-
gin to growl. I am telling you this
because I am your friend ; because I
know that you are good timber, and
especially I hope that you may secure
his influence if you should desire any
office. Don't you know that we al
ways respect the man that understands
our peculiarities before we are asked

to explain them to him ? He is sensi-
tive that way, and if he sees that you
understand him he will then know that
you have had your eye on him- have
held him in your mind. "
" All right ; you get me the comb,
and I'll go through the ceremony
when the time comes."
"6
Here's one ; put it in your pocket. "
They returned to the colonel, and,
after a while, when the major stepped
into the house to get a drink of water,
the old man said :
"You and the major are good
""
friends, I am glad to see.
" Yes," replied the colonel ; " I think

he is a first-rate fellow. "
" Glad you like him, for he and you

will have to sleep together to- night,
for the fact is, I have only one spare
bed."
" That will be all right, I reckon, "
said the colonel.
66
'Yes, but the truth is, the major is
the most peculiar fellow you ever saw."
" In what way ?'
" As a bedfellow . I was very inti-
mate with his family and knew all

about him. It seems that he had a
nervous trouble when he was a boy,

and could not go to sleep until some-
one growled like a dog. I have known
him to lie tossing in bed for hours at a
time, and then, when I would go to his
bed and growl, he would doze off like a
lamb."
" I never before heard of an afflic-
tion so strange," said the colonel.
" I either, but then it's a very easy
matter to relieve him. He and a
fellow named Buck Johnson were once
opposing candidates for prosecuting

attorney. Well, they had to sleep
together one night. Buck knew of his
peculiar affliction, and shortly after
they went to bed Buck began to growl.
The major didn't say anything that
night, but the next day he withdrew
from the race, declaring that he would
not run against so good a man as
Buck."
" You don't say so ! " exclaimed the
colonel.
" Yes, I do , and I know it to be a
fact. I would advise you to humor
him in the same way."
" I'll do so. "
" Hush ! he's coming back. "

"We are going to have more rain, I
think," said the major, as he resumed
his seat.
"Yes," the colonel responded, " but

I hope that will not interfere with the
convention. If the attendance is large
and the proceedings harmonious, the
result will be of great benefit to the

county. "
"Who you reckon will be nominated
for judge ? " old John asked.
" Neither of the candidates that
have been named. We have better
timber than either of those fellows. "
"Well," said the major, yawning, " I
reckon we better go to bed so as to be
in trim for the work to-morrow. "
" I will show you the room, " the old

man remarked , arising.
The politicians were shown into an
upper room, and the old man, placing a
candle on the mantelpiece, bade them
good-night and went downstairs.
"What noise was that ? " the major

asked, when the old man quitted the
room .
" I didn't hear any noise," the

colonel answered.
"I did ; it sounded like someone
gasping for breath. " He might have
heard a noise - might have heard old
John struggling to suppress his laughter.
" Suppose we go to bed," said the

major.
" All right, you go ahead and I will
blow out the candle. "
They talked for some time after
lying down, and then, after a long
silence, the colonel uttered a deep
growl. The major reached over and
gave him a rake with the comb.
"What the deuce are you doing ? "
exclaimed the colonel, springing up in
bed. " What do you mean ? " and in
his rage he began to grate his teeth.

The major, supposing he was getting
ready to begin biting, reached over and
gave him another rake. " You infernal
idiot," yelled the colonel, feeling for

the major's hair, " if I don't wool you,
I'm a shote ! "
What are you doing ? " howled
the major. " Let go, or I'll hurt you !
Quit, I tell you ! Haven't you got any
sense ? " The colonel had found his
hair.
I'll let you know what it is to rake

THE COMB DIDN'T CALM HIM 119
the life out of me with a cross-cut

saw. "
" I was doing it to oblige you, you
confounded wolf ! Let go my hair ! "
Oblige me ? Do you take me for
a saw-log ? Look out ! If you hit me
again , I'll pull every hair out of your
head."
They tumbled out on the floor,
rolled over and over, and then over-
turned a tottering old wardrobe that
came down on them with a crash. The
major swore that he was dead and the
colonel yelled for a light, but no light
came. Had they listened , they might
have heard another noise that sounded
as if someone were breathing hard.

The old man was in the hall, shaking
the rail of the stairway. The major
was the first to scramble to his feet.
" I will throw you out of the window ! "

he exclaimed .
" And if I can find my pistol, I'll
shoot the top of your head off," howled
the colonel. This threat so frightened
the major that he gathered up his

clothes as best he could and rushed
from the room .
Why, what's the matter ? " the old

man asked when the major came
down.
" Nothing, only I am going away to

get a cannon and then come back and
blow that fool into eternity."
" Did he try to bite ?"
" He tried to kill me ; that's what he
tried to do."
"Why didn't you rake him ? "

"I did rake him."
" Humph ! " grunted the old man.

"He must have lost his peculiarity.
What are you going out in such a
night as this ? "
"Yes, I am, for if I see that fool
again I'll have to cut his throat.
Good-by."
Shortly after the major left the
colonel came down.
Why, look here," he said ; "I
growled just as you told me to do , and
I wish I may die if that fellow didn't

come in one of ripping the life out of
me. ”
" Mighty sorry to hear it. He must

have changed since I knowed him so
well."
When the convention met the next
day the major and the colonel fought

each other so violently that neither of
them could win ; and at the opportune
time, old John Perdue stepped in and

received the nomination.
JETSAM .
The first edition of this number of THE

POCKET MAGAZINE is thirty-five thousand
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****
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MAGAZINE, however, aims at quality and
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Robert Buchanan's new novel, Diana's

Hunting, will deal largely with the love
122
affairs of a fascinating actress posing as

Diana and a young playwright who takes
the part of her quarry.
The book is said to have a strong ending,
and one that is thoroughly wholesome at
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that the situations of the earlier part of the
story are such as to arouse the fears of the
reader as to the final result.
****
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attended the football match between Yale
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****
John Strange Winter, another " John "

who is no John, but is a very accomplished
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William Le Queux's new novel, " The

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Temptress " is a beautiful Frenchwoman ,
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this author's astonishing Eastern romance
recently published.
The American edition of the new book,
published under the International Copy-
right Law, will be offered to the public early
in the present year.
**
John Gilmer Speed, whose article, “ Con-

fessions of a Literary Hack, " excited so
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was formerly a newspaper writer, and was

managing editor of the New York World
under William Henry Hurlbert . For a time
he was a stockbroker, and finally drifted into
his present position as a writer.
****
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other games, have attracted so much atten-
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method of doing his work. After he has
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a literary critic, who knows nothing of
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Then Mr. Foster goes over the work again.
He is probably the only man in this coun-
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When not writing, he teaches whist classes,
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marble in Baltimore.
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EDITED BY
IRVING BACHELLER.
Vol. I. FEBRUARY, 1896. No. 4.

pany or its agents.
PUBLISHED BY
CONTENTS .
***
How the Brigadier Played for a King-

dom . A. CONAN DOYLE .
The Liner She's a Lady.
RUDYARD KIPLING.
Peace Hath Its Victories.
EUGENE FIELD .
That Popish Parson Fellow.
S. R. CROCKETT.
Captain Mallinger.
HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.
Double Head and Single Heart.
ELISABETH PULLEN.

attractive form . Each number will contain a
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readers.
HOW THE BRIGADIER PLAYED
FOR A KINGDOM . *
BY A. CONAN DOYLE.
IT has struck me that some of you,

when you have heard me tell those
little adventures of mine, may have
gone away with the impression that I
was conceited. There could not be a
greater mistake than this, for I have
.
always observed that really fine soldiers
are free from this failing. It is true
that I have had to depict myself some-
times as brave, sometimes as full of re-
source, always as interesting ; but then
it really was so , and I had to take the
facts as I found them . It would be
unworthy affectation if I were to pre-
tend that my career has been anything
* Copyright, 1895, by Irving Bacheller.
2 HOW THE BRIGADIER
else than a fine one. The incident which
I will tell you to- night, however, is one

which you will understand that only a
modest man would describe. After all ,
when one has obtained such a position
as mine, one can afford to speak of that
which an ordinary man may be tempted
to conceal.
You must know, then, that after the
Russian campaign the remains of our

poor army were quartered along the
western bank of the Elbe, where they
might thaw their frozen blood and try,
with the help of the good German
beer, to put a little between their skin
and their bones. There were some
things which we could not hope to re-

gain, for I dare say that these large
commissariat fourgons would not have
sufficed to carry the fingers and the
toes which the army had shed during
that horrible retreat. Still, lean and
crippled as we were, we had much to
be thankful for when we thought of
our poor comrades whom we had left
PLAYED FOR A KINGDOM. 3
behind, and of the snow fields-the

horrible, horrible snow fields. To this
day, my friends, I do not care to see
red and white together. Even my red
cap , thrown down upon my white
counterpane, has given me dreams
in which I have seen those monstrous
plains ; the reeling, tortured army ; and

the crimson smears which glared upon
the snow behind them. You will coax
no story out of me about that business ,
for the thought of it is enough to turn
my wine to vinegar and my tobacco to
straw .
Of the half million who crossed the
Elbe in the autumn of the year '12,
about forty thousand infantry were left

in the spring of '13 . But they were ter-
rible men, these forty thousand - men
of iron, eaters of horses and sleepers
in the snow ; filled , too , with rage and
bitterness against the Russians. They
would hold the Elbe until the great
army of conscripts which the Empe-
ror was raising in France should be
4 HOW THE BRIGADIER
ready to help them to cross it once

more.
But the cavalry was in a deplorable
condition. My own hussars were at
Borna, and when I paraded them first,
I burst into tears at the sight of them.
My fine men and my beautiful horses ;
it broke my heart to see the state to
which they were reduced ! " But cour-
age," I thought, " they have lost much,
but their colonel is still left to them ! "
I set to work, therefore, to repair their

disasters, and had already constructed
two good squadrons when an order
came that all colonels of cavalry should
repair instantly to the dépots of the
regiments in France to organize re-
cruits and the remounts for the coming
campaign.
You will think, doubtless, that I was
overjoyed at this chance of visiting
home once more. I will not deny that
it was a pleasure to me to think that
I should see my mother again, and
there were a few girls who would be
very glad at the news ; but there were

others in the army who had a stronger
claim. I would have given my place
to any who had wives and children
whom they might not see again.
However, there is no arguing when
the blue paper with the little red seal
arrives, so within an hour I was off
upon my great ride from the Elbe to
the Vosges. At last I was to have a

period of quiet. War lay behind my
mare's tail and peace in front of her
nostrils. So I thought as the sound of
the bugle died in the distance, and the
long white road curled away in front

of me through plain and forest and
mountain, with France somewhere be-
yond the blue haze which lay upon
the horizon.
It is interesting, but it is also fati-
guing, to ride in the rear of an army.
In the harvest time our soldiers could
do without supplies, for they had been

trained to pluck the grain in the fields,
as they passed, and grind it for them-
6 HOW THE BRIGADIER
selves in their bivouacs. It was at

this time of year, therefore, that those
swift marches were performed which
were the wonder and the despair of
Europe. But now the starving men
.
had to be made robust once more,
and I was forced to draw into the
ditch continually as the Coburg sheep
and the Bavarian bullocks came
streaming past with wagon -loads of

Berlin beer and good French cognac .
Sometimes, too , I would hear the
dry rattle of the drums and the
shrill whistle of the fifes, and long
columns of our good little infantry-
men would swing past me with the
white dust lying thick upon their blue
tunics. These were old soldiers drawn
from the garrisons of our German for-

tresses, for it was not until May that
the new conscripts began to arrive.
from France.
Well, I was rather tired of this
eternal stopping and dodging, so that

I was not sorry, when I came to Alten-
burg, to find that the road divided , and

that I could take the southern and
quieter branch. There were few way-

farers between there and Greiz, and
the road wound through groves of oaks
and beeches, which shot their branches
across the path. You will think it
strange that a colonel of hussars
should again and again pull up his
horse in order to admire the beauty
of the feathery branches and the little
green new-budded leaves , but if you
had spent six months among the for-
tresses of Russia you would be able to
understand me.
There was something,
something, however,
which pleased me very much less
than the beauty of the forests, and
that was the words and looks of the
folk who lived in the woodland vil-
lages. We had always been excellent

friends with the Germans, and during
the last six years they had never
seemed to bear us any malice for hav-
ing made a little free with their
8 HOW THE BRIGADIER
country. We had shown kindnesses

to the men and received them from
the women, so that good, comfortable

Germany was a second home to all of
us. But now there was something
which I could not understand in the
behavior of the people. The travelers

made no answer to my salute ; the
foresters turned their heads away to
avoid seeing me, and in the villages

the folk would gather into knots in the
roadway and would scowl at me as I
passed. Even women would do this,
and it was something new for me in
those days to see anything but a smile
in a woman's eyes when they were
turned upon me .
It was in the hamlet of Schmolin,

just ten miles out of Altenburg, that
the thing became most marked. I had
stopped at the little inn there to damp

my mustache and to wash the dust out
of poor Violette's throat. It was my
way to give some little compliment, or
possibly a kiss, to the maid who served
me, but this one would have neither

the one nor the other, but darted a
glance at me like a bayonet thrust.
Then, when I raised my glass to the
folk who drank their beer by the door,
they turned their backs on me, save only
one fellow, who cried, " Here's a toast
for you, boys ! Here's to the letter
T !" At that they all emptied their
beer-mugs and laughed, but it was not

a laugh that had good fellowship in it.
I was turning this over in my head
and wondering what their boorish con-
duct could mean when I saw, as I rode
from the village, a great T new-carved

upon a tree. I had already seen more
than one in my morning's ride, but I

had given no thought to them until
the words of the beer-drinker gave
them an importance. It chanced that
a respectable looking person was rid-
ing past me at the moment, so I
turned to him for information.
" Can you tell me, sir, " said I , " what
this letter T is ? "
ΙΟ HOW THE BRIGADIER
He looked at it, and then at me, in
the most singular fashion. " Young

man, " said he, " it is not the letter N. "
Then, before I could ask him further,
he clapped his spurs into his horse's
ribs and rode, stomach to earth, upon
his way .
At first his words had no particular

significance in my mind, but as I
trotted onward, Violette chanced to

half turn her dainty head, and my eyes
were caught by the gleam of the bra-
zen N's at the end of the bridle-chain.
It was the Emperor's mark. And

these T's meant something which was
opposed to it. Things had been hap-
pening in Germany, then , during our
absence ; and the giant sleeper had
begun to stir. I thought of the mys-
terious faces that I had seen, and I
felt that, if I could only have looked

into the hearts of these people, I might
have had some strange news to bring
into France with me. It made me the
more eager to get my remounts and to
PLAYED FOR A KINGDOM. II
see ten strong squadrons behind my

kettle-drums once more.
While these thoughts were passing

through my head I had been alter-
nately walking and trotting, as a man

should who has a long journey before
and a willing horse beneath him . The
woods were very open at this point, and
beside the road there lay a great heap
of fagots. As I passed there came a

sharp sound from among them, and
glancing round, I saw a face looking
out at me a hot, red face, like that
of a man who is beside himself with
excitement and anxiety. A second
glance told me that it was the very

person with whom I had talked an
hour before in the village.
"Come nearer ! " he hissed. " Nearer
still ! Now dismount, and pretend to
be mending the stirrup leather. Spies
may be watching us, and it means
death to me if I am seen helping you. "
" Death ! " I whispered . " From
whom ? "
12 HOW THE BRIGADIER
"From the Tugendbund. From
Lutzow's night-riders. You French-

men are living on a powder magazine ,
and the match has been struck which
will fire it. "
" But this is all strange to me , " said
I , still fumbling at the leathers of my
horse. " What is this Tugendbund ? ”
" It is the secret society which has
planned the great rising which is to
drive you out of Germany just as you
have been driven out of Russia. "
" And these T's stand for it ? "
66
They are the signal. I should
have told you all this in the village, but
I dared not be seen speaking with you.
I galloped through the woods to cut
you off, and concealed both my horse
and myself. "
" I am very much indebted to you,"
said I , " and the more so as you are
the only German that I have met to-
day from whom I have had common
civility. "
" All that I possess I have gained
through contracting for the French

armies," said he. "Your Emperor has
been a good friend to me. But I beg
that you will ride on now, for we have
talked long enough. Beware only of
Lutzow's night-riders ! "
" Banditti ?" I asked.
"All that is best in Germany," said
he. " But for God's sake ride forward!
for I have risked my life and exposed
my good name in order to carry you

this warning. "
Well, if I had been heavy with
thought before, you can think how I
felt after my strange talk with the man
among the fagots. What came home
to me even more than his words was
his shivering, broken voice ; his twitch-
ing face ; and his eyes glancing swiftly
to right and left and opening in horror
whenever a branch creaked upon a
tree. It was clear that he was in the
last extremity of terror, and it is possi-

ble that he had cause, for long after I
had left him I heard a distant gunshot
and a shouting from somewhere behind

.
me. It may have been some sports-
man hallooing to his dogs, but I never

again either heard or saw the man who
had given me my warning.
I kept a good lookout after this,
riding swiftly where the country was
open, and slowly where there might be
an ambuscade. It was serious for me,
since five hundred good miles of Ger-

man soil lay in front of me, but some-
how I did not take it very much to
heart, for the Germans had always
seemed to me to be a kindly, gentle
people whose hand closed more readily
round a pipestem than a swordhilt-
not out of want of valor, you under-
stand, but because they are genial,
open souls, who would rather be on
good terms with all men. I did not
know then that beneath that homely
surface there lurks a deviltry as fierce
and far more persistent than that of
the Castilian or the Italian .
And it was not long before I had it
shown to me that there was something

more serious abroad than rough words
and hard looks. I had come to a spot
where the road runs upward through
a wild tract of heatherland and van-
ishes into an oak-wood. I may have
been halfway up the hill when, looking
forward, I saw something gleaming
under the shadow of the tree-trunks ,
and a man came out with a coat which
was so slashed and spangled with gold

that he blazed like a fire in the sun-
light. He appeared to be very drunk,

for he reeled and staggered as he came
toward me. One of his hands was held
up to his ear and clutched a great red

handkerchief which was fixed to his
neck.
I had reined up the mare, and was
looking at him with some disgust, for
it seemed strange to me that one who
wore so gorgeous a uniform should
show himself in such a state in broad
daylight. For his part he looked hard
in my direction, and came slowly
onward, stopping from time to time,

and swaying about as he gazed at me.
Suddenly, as I again advanced , he
screamed out his thanks to Christ, and,
lurching forward , he fell with a crash
upon the dusty road. His hands flew
forward with the fall, and I saw that
what I had taken for a red cloth was
a monstrous wound, which had left a
great gap in his neck from which a
dark bloodclot hung, like an epaulet,
upon his shoulder.
""
My God ! " I cried , as I sprang to
his aid, " and I thought that you were
drunk !"
" Not drunk, but dying," said he.

" But oh ! thank Heaven that I have
seen a French officer while I still had
strength to speak. "

I laid him among the heather and
poured some brandy down his throat.
All round us was the vast country-side,
green and peaceful, with nothing living

in sight save only the mutilated man
beside me.
'Who has done this ? " I asked,
" and what are you ? You are French ,

and yet the uniform is strange to me."
" It is that of the Emperor's new
guard of honor. I am the Marquis of
Château St. Arnaud, and I am the
ninth of my blood who has died in
the service of France . I have been
pursued and wounded by the night-

riders of Lutzow, but I hid among the
bushwood yonder and waited in the
hope that a Frenchman might pass. I
could not be sure at first if you were
friend or foe, but I felt that death was
very near, and that I must take the
chance."
" Keep your heart up , comrade, ” said

I. "I have seen a man with a worse
wound who has lived to boast of it."
" No, no ! " he whispered, "I am
going fast." He laid his hand upon
mine as he spoke, and I saw that his
finger nails were already blue . " But
I have papers here in my tunic which
you must carry at once to the Prince of
Saxe-Felstein at his castle of Hof. He

is still true to us, but the Princess is
our deadly enemy. She is striving to
make him declare against us. If he
does so, it will determine all those who
are wavering, for the King of Prussia
is his uncle, and the King of Bavaria
his cousin. These papers will hold him
to us if they can only reach him before
he takes the last step . Place them in
his hands to-night, and perhaps you
will have saved all Germany for the
Emperor. Had my horse not been
shot I might, wounded as I am ” —he
choked, and the cold hand tightened
into a grip which left mine as bloodless
as itself. Then , with a groan, his head
fell back, and he had gone as a brave
soldier would wish to go.
Here was a fine start for my journey
home. I was left with a commission of
which I knew little, which would lead
me to delay the pressing needs of my
hussars, and which at the same time
was of such importance that it was
impossible to avoid it. I opened the

marquis' tunic, the brilliance of which
had been devised by the Emperor in
order to attract those young aristocrats
from whom he hoped to raise these
new regiments of his guards. It was a
small packet of papers which I drew
out, tied up with silk, and addressed to
the Prince of Saxe-Felstein . In the
corner in a sprawling untidy hand,

which I knew to be the Emperor's own,
was written "' pressing and most im-
portant." It was an order to me, those
four words-an order as clear as if it
had come straight from the firm lips

with the cold gray eyes looking into
mine. My troopers might wait for
their horses, the dead marquis might
lie where I had laid him among the
heather, but if the mare and her rider
had a breath left in them, the papers
should reach the Prince that night.
I should not have feared to ride by
the road, for I had learned in Spain
that the safest time to pass through a
guerrilla country is after an outrage, and

the moment of danger is when all is
peaceful. When I came to look upon
my map, however, I saw that Hof lay
further to the south of me, and that I
might reach it more directly by keeping
to the moors . Off I set, therefore , and
had not gone fifty yards before two

carbine-shots rang out of the brush-
wood, and a bullet hummed past me
like a bee. It was clear that the night-
riders were bolder in their ways than
the brigands of Spain, and that my
mission would have ended where it had
begun, if I had kept to the road.
It was a mad ride that ; a ride with
a loose rein, girth-deep in heather and
in gorse, plunging through bushes,
flying down hillsides, with my neck at
the mercy of my dear little Violette.
But she-she never slipped, she never
faltered ; as swift and as sure -footed as
if she knew that her rider carried the
fate of all Germany beneath the but-

tons of his pelisse. And I- I had
long borne the name of being the best

horseman in the six brigades of light
cavalry, but I never rode as I rode
then. My friend the Bart. has told me
of how they hunt the fox in England,
but the swiftest fox would have been
captured by me that day. The wild
pigeons which flew overhead did not
take a straighter course than Violette
and I below. As an officer I have
always been ready to sacrifice myself
for my men, though the Emperor
would not have thanked me for it, for
he had many men, but only one-well,
cavalry leaders of the first class are
rare. But here I had an object which
was indeed worth a sacrifice, and I
thought no more of my life than of the
clods of earth that flew from my dar-
ling's heels.
We struck the road once more as
the light was failing and galloped into

the little village of Lobenstein , but we
had hardly got upon the cobblestones
when off came one of the mare's shoes,
and I had to lead her to the village

smithy. The smith's fire was low and
his day's work done , so that it would be
an hour at least before I could hope to
push on to Hof. Cursing at the delay
I strode into the village inn , and
ordered a cold chicken and some wine
to be served me for my dinner. It

was but a few more miles to Hof and
I had every hope that I might deliver

my papers to the Prince on that very
night, and be on my way for France
next morning with dispatches for the
Emperor in my bosom. I will tell you
now what befell me in the inn of
Lobenstein.
The chicken had been served and
the wine drawn, and I had turned
upon both, as a man may who has
ridden such a ride, when I was aware
of a murmur and a scuffling in the hall

outside my door. At first I thought
it was some brawl between some peas-
ants in their cups, and I left them to
settle their own affairs. But of a sud-
den there broke from among the low,
sullen growl of the voices such a

sound as would send Etienne Gerard
leaping from his death-bed . It was

the whimpering cry of a woman in
pain. Down clattered my knife and
my fork, and in an instant I was in the
thick of the crowd which had gathered
outside of my door.
The heavy-cheeked landlord was

there and his flaxen-haired wife, the
two men from the stables , a chamber-
maid, and two or three villagers. All
of them, women and men, were .
flushed
and angry, while there in the center of
them, with pale cheeks and terror in
her eyes, stood the loveliest woman
that ever a soldier would wish to look
upon. With her queenly head thrown
back, and a touch of defiance mingled
with her fear, she looked, as she gazed
round her, like a creature of a different
race from the vile, coarse-featured crew
who surrounded her. I had not taken
two steps from my door when she
24 HOW THE BRIGA
DIER
sprang to meet me, her hands resting

upon my arm, and her blue eyes spark-
ling with joy and triumph.
"A French soldier and a gentle-
man !" she cried. " Now, at last, I
am safe."
66
' Yes, madame, you are safe , ” said I ,
and I could not resist taking her hand
in mine, in order that I might reassure
her. "You have only to command
me, " I added, kissing her hand as a

sign that I meant what I was saying.
66 The
"I am Polish, " she cried .
Countess Palotta is my name. ”
They abuse me because I love the
French. I do not know what they

.
might have done to me, had Heaven
not sent you to help me. "
I kissed her hand again lest she
should doubt my intentions. Then I
turned upon the crew with such an
expression as I know how to assume.
In an instant the hall was empty.
66
'Countess, " said I , " you are now
under my protection . You are faint,
and a glass of wine is necessary to

restore you." I offered her my arm
.
and escorted her into my room , where
she sat by my side at the table and
took the refreshment which I offered
her.
How she blossomed out in my pres-
ence, this woman , like a flower before
the sun ! She lit up the room with

her beauty. She must have read my
admiration in my eyes, and it seemed
to me that I could also see something
of that sort in her own. Ah , my
friends ! I was no ordinary looking

man when I was in my thirtieth year.
In the whole light cavalry it would
have been hard to find a finer pair of
whiskers . Murat's may have been a
shade longer, but the best judges
are agreed that Murat's were a shade
too long. And then I had a manner.
Some women are to be approached in
one way and some in another, just as
a siege is an affair of fascines and
gabions in hard weather and of
trenches in soft. But the man who
can mix daring with timidity, who can

be outrageous with an air of humility
and presumptuous with a tone of
deference-that is the man whom
mothers have to fear. For myself I

felt that I was the guardian of this
lonely lady, and knowing what
dangerous man I had to deal with, I
kept strict watch upon myself. Still
even a guardian has his privileges, and
I could not neglect them.
But her talk was as charming as her
face. In a few words she explained
that she was traveling to Poland and
that her brother, who had been her
escort, had fallen ill upon the way.
She had more than once met with
ill treatment from the country folk
because she could not conceal her
good will toward the French. Then,
turning from her own affairs, she
questioned me about the army, and
so came round to myself and my own
exploits. They were familiar to her,
she said, for she knew several of

Poniatowski's officers, and they had
spoken of my doings. Yet she would
be glad to hear them from my own

lips. Never have I had so delightful
a conversation. Most women make
the mistake of talking rather too much

.
about their own affairs, but this one
.
listened to my tales just as you are
listening now, even asking for more
and more and more. The hours
slipped rapidly by, and it was with

horror that I heard the village clock
strike eleven, and so learned that
for four hours I had forgotten the
Emperor's business .
" Pardon me, my dear lady," I cried,
"" But I must on
springing to my feet.
instantly to Hof."
She rose also , and looked at me with
a pale, reproachful face. " And me ? "
she asked. "What is to become of me ? "
" It is the Emperor's affair. I have

already stayed far too long. My duty
calls me, and I must go ."
"You must go ? And I must be

abandoned alone to these savages.
Oh, why did I ever meet you ? Why

did you ever teach me to rely upon
your strength ? " Her eyes glazed
over, and in an instant she was sob
bing upon my bosom.
Here was a trying moment for a
guardian ! Here was a time when he
had to keep a watch upon a forward

young officer. But I was equal to it.
I smoothed her rich brown hair and
whispered such consolations as I could
think of in her ear, with one arm
around her, it is true, but that was to
hold her lest she should faint. She
turned her tear-stained face to mine.
"Water," she whispered . " For God's
sake, water ! "
I saw that in another moment she
would be senseless. I laid the droop-
ing head upon the sofa, and then

rushed furiously from the room, hunt-
ing from chamber to chamber for a
carafe. It was some minutes before I
could get one and hurry back with it.

You can imagine my feelings to find
the room empty and the lady gone.
Not only was she gone, but her cap
and her silver-mounted riding switch,
which had lain upon the table, were
gone also. I rushed out and roared
for the landlord. He knew nothing
of the matter, had never seen the
woman before, and did not care if he
never saw her again. Had the peas-

ants at the door seen anyone ride
away ? No, they had seen nobody. I
searched here and searched there,
until at last I chanced to find myself
in front of a mirror, where I stood
with my eyes staring and my jaws as
far dropped as the chin-strap of my
shako would allow.
Four buttons of my pelisse were
open, and it did not need me to put

my hand up to know that my precious
papers were gone. Oh ! the depth of
cunning that lurks in a woman's heart !
She had robbed me, this creature-
robbed me as she clung to my breast.

Even while I smoothed her hair and
whispered kind words into her ears,

her hands had been at work beneath
my dolman. And here I was, at the

very last step of my journey, deprived
of the power of carrying out this mis-
sion, which had already deprived one
good man of his life and was likely
to rob another of his credit. What
would the Emperor say when he heard
that I had lost his dispatches ! Would
the army believe it of Etienne Gerard !
And when they heard that a woman's
hand had coaxed them from me, what
laughter there would be at mess table

and at camp fire ! I could have rolled
upon the ground in my despair.
But one thing was certain-all this
affair of the fracas in the hall and the
persecution of the so-called countess
was a piece of acting from the begin-
ning. This villainous innkeeper must
be in the plot. From him I might
learn who she was and where my
papers had gone. I snatched my

saber from the table and rushed out
in search of him. But the scoundrel
had guessed what I would do and had

made his preparations for me. It was
in the corner of the yard that I found

him , a blunderbuss in his hands and a
mastiff held upon a leash by his son.
The two stable hands with pitchforks
.
stood upon each side, and the wife held
a great lantern behind him so as to
guide his aim.
" Ride away, sir, ride away ! " he
cried, with a crackling voice. " Your
horse is at the door, and no one will
meddle with you if you go your way,
but if you come against us, you are
alone against three brave men. "
I had only the dog to fear, for the
two forks and the blunderbuss were
shaking about like bushes in a wind.
Still I considered that, though I might
force an answer with my sword point
at the throat of this fat rascal , still I
should have no means of knowing
whether that answer was the truth. It
would be a struggle, then, with much

to lose and nothing certain to gain. I
looked them up and down therefore in
a way that set their foolish weapons
shaking worse than ever, and then,
throwing myself upon my mare, I gal-
loped away with the shrill laughter of
the landlady jarring upon my ears.
I had already formed my resolution .
Although I had lost my papers I could

make a very good guess as to what
their contents would be, and this I
would say from my own lips to the
Prince of Saxe-Felstein as though the
Emperor had commissioned me to
convey it in that way. It was a bold
stroke and a dangerous one. But if I
went too far, I would afterward be
disavowed . It was that or nothing ;
and when all Germany hung on the
balance, the game should not be lost
if the nerve of one man could save it.
It was midnight when I rode into

Hof, but every window was blazing,
which was enough in itself, in that

sleepy country, to tell the ferment of
excitement in which the people were.
There was hooting and jeering as I
rode through the crowded streets, and
once a stone sang past my head, but
I kept upon my way, neither slowing
nor quickening my pace until I had
come to the palace. It was lit from
base to battlement, and the dark
shadows, coming and going against the

yellow glare, spoke of the turmoil
within. For my part I handed my
mare to a groom at the gate, and
striding in, I demanded, in such a voice
as an ambassador should have , to see
the Prince instantly, upon business
which would brook no delay.
The hall was dark, but I was con-
scious, as I entered, of a buzz of in-
numerable voices, which hushed into
silence as I loudly proclaimed my mis-
sion. Some great meeting was being
held then a meeting which, as my
instincts told me, was to decide this
very question of war and peace. It

was possible that I might still be in
time to turn the scale for the Emperor
and for France. As to the
to major-
domo, he looked blackly at me and ,

showing me into a small antechamber,
he left me. A minute later he re-
turned to say that the Prince could
not be disturbed at present , but that
the Princess would take my message .
The Princess ! What use was there
in giving it to her ? Had I not been
warned that she was German in heart
and soul, and that it was she who was
turning her husband and her state
against us .
66 It
is the Prince that I must see,"
said I.
"Nay, it is the Princess," said a

voice at the door, and a woman swept
into the chamber. " Von Rosen, you
had best stay with us. Now, sir,
what is it that you have to say to
either Prince or Princess of Saxe-
Felstein ? "
At the first sound of the voice I had

sprung to my feet. At the first glance
I had thri lled wit anger.
h Not twice
in a lifetime does one meet that noble
figure, that queenly head, those eyes

as blue as the Garonne , and as chilling
as her winter waters.
"Time presses, sir ! " she cried, with
an impatient tap of her foot. " What
have you to say to me ? "

"What have I to say to you ? " I
cried. "What can I say, save that
you have taught me never to trust a
woman more ? You have ruined and
dishonored me forever."
She looked with arched brows at her
attendant.
" Is this the raving of fever, or does

it come from some less innocent
cause ? " said she. " Perhaps a little

blood-letting-
"" Ah, you can act ! " I cried. " You
have shown me that already ."

" Do you mean that we have met
before ? "
R
ADIE
36 HOW THE BRIG
" I mean that you have robbed me

within the last two hours."
" This is past all bearing, " she cried,

with an admirable affectation of anger.
" You claim, as I understand, to be an
ambassador, but there are limits to the
privileges which such an office brings
with it."
" You brazen it admirably," said I.

" Your Highness will not make a fool
of me twice in one night." I sprang
forward and, stooping down, caught
up the hem of her dress. " You would
have done well to change it after you
had ridden so far and so fast, " said I.
It was the dawn upon a snow-peak
to see her ivory cheeks flush suddenly
to crimson.
" Insolent ! " she cried. "Call the
foresters and have him thrust from
the palace ! "
" I will see the Prince first."
" You will never see the Prince . Ah!
Hold him ! Von Rosen, hold him ! "
She had forgotten the man with
whom she had to deal. Was it likely

that I would wait until they brought
their rascals ? She had shown me her
cards too soon . Her game was to
stand between me and her husband.
Mine was to speak face to face with
.
him, at any cost. One spring took me
out of the chamber. In another I had
crossed the hall. An instant later I
had burst into the great room from

which the murmur of the meeting had
come. At the far end I saw a figure
upon a high chair under a dais.
Beneath him was a line of high digni-
taries, and then on every side I saw
vaguely the heads of a vast assembly.
Into the center of the room I strode ,
my saber clanking, my shako under
my arm . " I am the messenger of the
Emperor," I shouted. "I bear his
message to his Highness the Prince of
Saxe-Felstein. "
The man beneath the dais raised his
head, and I saw that his face was thin
and wan and that his back was bowed
IER
W GAD
38 HO THE BRI
as though some huge burden was

balanced between his shoulders.
66
Your name, sir ? " he asked.
"Colonel Etienne Gerard of the
Third Hussars. "
Every face in the gathering was

turned upon me, and I heard the rustle
of the innumerable necks and saw
countless eyes, without meeting one
friendly one among them. The
woman had swept past me, and was

whispering, with many shakes of her
head and dartings of her hands, into
the Prince's ear. For my own part I
threw out my chest and curled my

mustache, glancing round in my own
debonair fashion at the assembly.
They were men , all of them—pro-
fessors from the college, a sprinkling
of their students , soldiers, gentlemen,
artisans ; all very silent and serious.
In one corner there sat a group of
men in black, with riding coats drawn

over their shoulders. They leaned
their heads to each other, whispering
under their breath, and with every

movement I caught the clank of their
sabers or the clink of their spurs.
" The Emperor's private letter to

me informs me that it is the Marquis
Château St. Arnaud who is bearing his
dispatches," said the Prince.
" The marquis has been foully
murdered," I answered, and a buzz
rose up from the people as I spoke.
Many heads were turned , I noticed,
toward the dark men in the cloaks.
'Where are your papers ? " asked

the Prince.
" I have none."
A fierce clamor rose instantly
round me. " He is a spy! He plays
66
a part !" they cried. Hang him !"
roared a deep voice from the corner,
and a dozen others took up the shout.
For my part I drew out my handker-
chief and flicked the dust from the fur
of my pelisse. The Prince held out
his thin white hand and the tumult
died away.
R
ADIE
40 HOW THE BRIG
'Where, then, are your credentials,

and what is your message ? " he asked.
" My uniform is my credentials, and
my message is for your private ear. "
He passed his hand over his fore-
head, with the gesture of a weak man
who is at his wits' end what to do .
The Princess stood beside him with
her hand upon his throne, and again

she whispered in his ear.
"We are here in council together,
some of my trusty subjects and
myself," said he. " I have no secrets
from them, and whatever message the
Emperor may send to me at such a
time concerns their interests no less
than mine."
There was a hum of applause at this,

and every eye was once more turned
upon me. My faith ! it was an awk-
ward position in which I found myself ;

for it is one thing to address eight
hundred hussars and another to speak
to such an audience on such a subject.
But I fixed my eyes upon the Prince,
PLAYED FOR A KINGDOM. 4I
and tried to say just what I should

have said if we had been alone, shout-
ing it out too, as though I had my
regiment on parade. "You have
often expressed friendship for the

Emperor," I cried . " It is now at last
that this friendship is about to be

tried. If you stand firm , he will re-
ward you as only he can reward. It
is an easy thing for him to turn a
prince into a king and a province into
a power. His eyes are fixed upon
you ; and though you can do little to
harm him, you can ruin yourself. At
this moment he is crossing the Rhine
with two hundred thousand men.
Every fortress in the country is in his

hands. He will be upon you in a
week, and if you have played him false,

God help both you and your people !
You think that he is weakened be-
cause a few of us got the chilblains
last winter. Look there ! " I cried ,
pointing to a great star which blazed
through the window above the Prince's
head. "That is the Emperor's star.

When it wanes he will wane-but not
before ! "
You would have been proud of me,
my friends, if you could have seen
and heard me, for I clashed my saber
as I spoke, and swung my dolman as
though my regiment was picketed
outside in the courtyard . They
listened to me in silence, but the back
of the Prince bowed more and more
as though the burden which weighed

upon it was greater than his strength.
He looked round with haggard eyes.
"We have heard a Frenchman
speak for France," he said. " Let us
hear a German speak for Germany."
The folks glanced at each other and
whispered to their neighbors. My
speech had, as I think, had its effect,
and no man wished to be the first to
commit himself in the eyes of the
Emperor. The Princess looked round
her with blazing eyes, and her clear
voice broke the silence.
"Is a woman to give this French-

man his answer ?" she cried. " Is it
possible that among the night-riders

of Lutzow there is none who can use
his tongue as well as his saber ? "
Over went a table with a crash, and
a young man had bounded upon one
of the chairs. He had the face of one
inspired-pale, eager, with wild hawk
eyes and tangled hair. His sword
hung straight from his side, and his
riding boots were brown with mire.
" It is Körner ! " the people cried.
" It is young Körner, the poet ! Ah-
he will sing, he will sing ! "
And he sang ! It was soft at first
and dreamy ; telling of old Germany,
the mother of nations ; of the rich,
warm plains, and the gray cities, and
the fame of dead heroes. But then
verse after verse rang like a trumpet
call. It was of the Germany of now—
the Germany which had been taken

unawares and overthrown, but which
was up again, and snapping the bonds
upon her giant limbs. What was life

that one should covet it ? What was
glorious death that one should shun

it ? The mother-the great mother-
was calling. Her sigh was in the
night wind . She was crying to her
own children for help. Would they
come ? Would they come ? Would
they come ?
Ah, that terrible song, the spirit
face and the ringing voice ! Where

were I and France and the Emperor ?
They did not shout-the people—they
howled. They were up on the chairs.
and the tables. They were raving,
sobbing, the tears running down their
faces. Körner had sprung from the
chair, and his comrades were around
him with their sabers in the air. A
flush had come into the pale face of

the Prince, and he rose from his
throne.
66
Colonel Gerard ," said he, “ you
have heard the answer which you are
to carry to your Emperor. The die is
cast, my children. Your Prince and
you must stand or fall together."

He bowed to show that all was over,
and the people with a shout made for

the door, to carry the tidings into the
town. For my own part I had done
all that a brave man might, and I was
not sorry to be carried out amid the
stream . Why should I linger in the
Palace ? I had had my answer and
must carry it, such as it was. I wished
neither to see Hof nor its people again
until I entered it at the head of a van-
guard. I turned from the throng then,

and walked silently and sadly in the
direction in which they had led the
mare.
It was dark down there by the
stable, and I was peering round for the
ostler when suddenly . my two arms
were seized from behind. There were
hands at my wrists and at my throat,
and I felt the cold muzzle of a pistol
under my ear.
" Keep your lips closed, you French
R
ADIE
46 HOW THE BRIG
dog ! " whispered a fierce voice. "We

have him, captain."
" Have you the bridle ? ”
"Here it is."
66
Sling it over his head."
I felt the cold coil of leather tighten
round my neck. An ostler with a
stable lantern had come out, and was
gazing on the scene. In its dim light
I saw stern faces breaking everywhere
through the gloom, with the black
caps and dark cloaks of the night-
riders.
What would you do with him, cap-
tain ?" cried a voice.
66
Hang him at the palace gate."
"An ambassador ? "
" Yes, an ambassador without
19
papers.'
" But the Prince ? "
Tut, man ! do you not see that

the Prince will then be committed to
our side ? He will be beyond hope of

forgiveness. At present he may swing
round to-morrow as he has done be-
fore. He may eat his words, but a

dead hussar is more than he can
explain."
""
' No, no, Von Strelitz, we cannot
do it !" said another voice.
" Can we not ? I will show you
that ! " And there came a jerk on the

bridle which nearly pulled me to the
ground. At the same instant a sword
flashed, and the leather was cut through
within two inches of my neck.
"By Heaven, Körner ! this is rank
" You may
mutiny! " cried the captain.
hang yourself before you are through
with it."
" I have drawn my sword as a soldier
and not as a brigand," said the young
poet. " Blood may dim its blade, but
never dishonor. Comrades , will you
stand by and see this French gentle-
man mishandled ? "
A dozen sabers flew from their
sheaths, and it was evident that my
friends and my foes were about equally
balanced. But the angry voices and
R
ADIE
48 HOW THE BRIG
the gleam of steel had brought the folks

running from all parts.
" The Princess ! " they cried. " The
Princess is coming ! "
And even as they spoke I saw her
in front of us, her sweet face framed
in the darkness. I had cause to hate
her, for she had cheated and befooled
me, and yet it thrilled me then , and
thrills me now, to think that my arms
have embraced her and that I have felt
the scent of her hair in my nostrils. I

know not whether she lies under her
German earth, or whether she still
lingers, a grayhaired woman, in her
castle of Hof, but she lives, ever young
and lovely, in the heart and the memory

of Etienne Gerard.
" For shame ! " she cried, sweeping
up to me, and tearing away with her
own hands the noose from my neck.
" You are fighting in God's own
quarrel, and yet you would begin with

such a devil's deed as this ! This
man is mine, and he who touches
PLAYED FOR A 'KINGDOM. 49
a hair of his head will answer for it

to me ! "
They were glad enough to slink off
into the darkness before those scorn-
ful eyes. Then she turned once more

to me.
" You can follow me, Colonel
Gerard ," she said . " I have a word
that I would speak to you ."
I walked behind her into the
chamber into which I had originally
been shown. She closed the door, and
then looked at me with the archest
twinkle in her eyes.
" Is it not confiding of me to trust

myself with you ? " said she. " You
will remember that it is the Princess of
Saxe-Felstein and not the poor Count-
ess Palotta of Poland."
" Be the name what it might,” I an-

swered, " I helped a lady whom I be-
lieved to be in distress , and I have
been robbed of my papers, and almost
of my honor, as a reward. ”
" Colonel Gerard ," said she, " we
have been playing a game, you and I ,

and the stake was a heavy one. You
have shown, by delivering a message
which was never given to you , that you
would stand at nothing in the cause
of your country. My heart is German
as yours is French, and I also would
go all lengths, even to deceit and to
theft, if at this crisis I can help my
suffering fatherland. You see how
frank I am."
" You tell me nothing that I have

not seen."
" But now that the game is played

and won, why should we bear malice ?
I will say this, that if ever I were in
such a plight as that which I pretended
in the inn of Lobenstein , I should
never wish to meet a more gallant
protector or a truer-hearted gentleman
than Colonel Etienne Gerard. I had
never thought that I could feel for a
Frenchman as I have felt for you when
I slipped the papers from your breast.
" But you took them none the less. "
"They were necessary to me and to

Germany. I knew the argument which
they contained, and the effect which
they would have upon the Prince . If
they had reached him, all would have
been lost. "
"Why should your Highness de-

scend to such expedients when a score
of these brigands wished to hang me
at your castle gate, and would have
done the work just as well ? ”

" They are not brigands, but the
best blood of Germany ! " she cried
hotly. " If you have been roughly
used, you will remember the indignities
to which every German has been sub-
jected from the Queen of Prussia down-
ward. As to why I did not have you
waylaid upon the road, I may say that
I had parties out on all sides, and that
I was waiting at Lobenstein to hear of
their success. When, instead of their
news, you yourself arrived I was in de-
spair, for there was only the one weak

woman betwixt you and my husband.
You see the straits to which I was

driven before I used the weapon of
my sex. "
" I confess that you have conquered
me, your Highness, and it only remains
for me to leave you in possession of
the field."
66
But you will take your papers with
you "-she held them out to me as she
spoke. "The Prince has crossed the
Rubicon now, and nothing can bring
him back. You can return these to the
Emperor and tell him that we refused
to receive them. No one can accuse
you then of having lost your dispatches.

Good-by, Colonel Gerard , and the best
that I can wish you is that, when you
reach France, you may remain there.
In a year's time there will be no place
for a Frenchman upon this side of the
Rhine."
And thus it was that I played the

Princess of Saxe-Felstein with all Ger-
many for a stake, and lost my game to
her. I had much to think of as I
walked my poor tired Violette along

the highway which leads westward
from Hof. But amid all the thoughts
there came to me always the proud,
beautiful face of the German woman,
and the voice of the soldier poet as he
sang from the chair. And I under-
stood that there was something terri-
ble in this strong, patient Germany-
this mother root of nations — and I saw
that such a land , so old and so beloved ,
never could be conquered. And as I

rode I saw that the dawn was breaking,
and that the great star at which I had
pointed through the palace window
was dim and pale in the western sky.
" THE LINER SHE'S A LADY. " *
BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
THE Liner she's a lady an' she never

looks nor ' eeds ;
The Man o' War's ' er ' usband an' 'e
gives ' er all she needs.
But oh ! the little cargo -boats that sail
the wet seas ' roun ',
They're just the same as you an' me a
plyin' up an' down.
Plyin' up an' down, Jenny, 'angin'

roun' the Yard,
All the way by Tratton tram down to

Gosport Yard.
Anythin' for business, an' we're growin'

old,
Goin' up an' down, Jenny, waitin' in

the cold.
54
' THE LINER SHE'S A LADY." 55
The Liner she's a lady by the paint

upon ' er face,
An' if she meets an accident they call
it sore disgrace ;
The Man o' War's ' er ' usband an' ' e's
always ' andy by,

But oh ! the little cargo-boats, they've
got to lead or die.
The Liner she's a lady an' 'er route is

cut an' dried—
The Man o' War's ' er ' usband an' 'e
always walks beside ;

But oh ! the little cargo-boats that
' aven' t any man-
They've got to do their business first

an' make the most they can.
The Liner she's a lady, an' if a war

should come
The Man o' War's ' er 'usband and ' e'd
bid ' er stay at ' ome.
But oh ! the little cargo-boats that fill
with every tide,
'E'd ' ave to up an' fight for them, for
they are England's pride.
56 'THE LINER SHE'S A LADY."
The Liner she's a lady, but if she

wasn't made
There still would be the cargo-boats
for ' ome an' foreign trade.

The Man o' War's ' er ' usband, but if
we wasn't ' ere
' E wouldn't ' ave to fight at all for ' ome

an' friends so dear.
' Ome an' friends so dear, Jenny, ' angin'

roun' the Yard,
All the way by Tratton tram down to
Gosport Yard.
Anythin' for business, an' we're growin'
old-
' Ome an' friends so dear, Jenny, waitin'

in the cold.
PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES. *
BY EUGENE FIELD.
LUCIUS had been farming it for

going on twenty-five years. By con-
spicuous service in the war he had
risen from the ranks to the office of
first lieutenant, and there never was a
doubt in his mind that, if the war had
held out long enough, he would have
been a colonel. As it was, he was
called captain by all his neighbors,

some of whom had also done patriot
service during the stormy times of the
rebellion .
When peace was declared Lucius
was honorably discharged from the
army, and he went back home to
engage in farming once more. But he
was not long in finding out that the
* Copyright, 1895, by Bacheller, Johnson, & Bacheller.
57
I ES
58 PEACE HATH ITS VICTOR .
home place had grown smaller while

he was absent ; very soon he began to
feel cramped and restricted , and he
developed presently a violent case of
the Western fever. So he said good-
by to the homestead one day and
started westward. Reaching Iowa, he
purchased, upon reasonable terms, a
farm of two hundred acres, and this he
proceeded at once to till in the most
approved fashion. The place was
about five miles from the hamlet of
Prairie Home ; his nearest neighbors
were the Beasleys. Old man Beasley

was one of the pioneers in Iowa ; he
had been elected to the Legislature
three successive terms, had run for
Congress and been beaten, and, all in

all, he was, at the time of which we
speak, full of years and of honors.
Lucius married the old man's second
daughter Susan, a likely virgin with

.
drab ringlets and a bilious complexion .
Her dowry consisted of a trunkful of
house linen and a spotted cow.
PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES. 59
Fortune smiled upon Lucius. Crops

were good, and market prices for grain
were fair. In short, the young couple
fared so prosperously that the second
summer of their wedded life they
were able to buy a buggy to ride.
to town in on Sundays and on other
occasions. In due time , too , Lucius
was enabled to add to the number of
his barns, stables , and granaries ; he

had not been farming it in Iowa more
than ten years before folks had him
.
worth ten thousand dollars, and he
must have been, for, when the agents
for the new pictorial history of the
county came along, he subscribed for
five copies and paid extra for having

his portrait put in the book.
One day neighbor Higgins drove
by. Lucius hallooed to him and asked
him what was going on up at town.
Higgins allowed that there was noth-
ing new unless it was that some of the
boys were talking about organizing a
Grand Army post ; they had decided
60 PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES.
to have an informal meeting Saturday

night to discuss the practicability of
the scheme . This was pleasant news
to Lucius. The one thing that Lucius
pined for was association with the
boys, and by "the boys " he meant
(as we mean) the valorous men who
did service in the war for the Union .
Lucius pined for opportunities to talk
over old times, to recount the prod-
igies he had performed in valor, and
to renew in the companionship of
kindred souls the old-time spirit and
enthusiasm .
Upon the following Saturday night,

therefore, Lucius hitched up the buggy
and went to town . The meeting was
held in the room over Simms' general

store. There were only nine of the
boys there, but others said they would
join the post as soon as the organiza-
tion was completed. So the post was
organized amid great enthusiasm , and
it was known to the world as Corporal
Tanner post, No. 193 , G. A. R. With
PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES. 61.
their first money the members of the

post bought a flag, a melodeon , and a
dozen copies of " Patriotic Songs for
Male Voices." This was all the equip-
ment needful.
For a number of years the institu-

tion prospered ; to be more explicit,
for the period of six years Corporal
Tanner post, No. 193 , G. A. R. ,
elected every official in the County,
and it came to be suspicioned that
nobody had a show in Bayonet County
politics unless he was a member of
that Grand Army of the Republic
post. But in the ever to be lamented
year of 1884 the tidal wave of civil
service reform struck Bayonet County
very hard. A young lawyer, who

had come to Iowa only two years
before from the East, announced in
the Democratic weekly that he was a
mugwump, and he invited all honest
citizens to rally to the purification
of national politics. This singularly
hardened young man heaped obloquy
upon the Grand Army of the Republic,

and urged the voters of the county
to redeem their interests from the
clutches of a ring that sought main-

tenance at the public expense simply
by parading the unholy sentiments and
maudlin sentimentalities of a war that
had been ended twenty years. The
sickening result of this agitation was

that the voters of Bayonet County
decided, by a large majority, to suffer
the festering wounds of the Civil War
to heal ; in other words, the patriots
were ignominiously voted out of office
and a set of younger and wholly un-
meritorious civilians were installed.
The four years' administration of

the civil service reform President,
involving as it did the desecratory
diminution of the pension roll, was
a most grievous blow to Corporal
Tanner post, No. 193 , G. A. R.
Israel Hotchkiss , who had lost an arm
in a thrashing machine, had applied
for indemnity on account of loss of
hearing resulting from sleeping out in

the rain during the Peninsular cam-
paign. A patriotic Congress indorsed
this application , but the measure, ap-
propriating eight hundred dollars to
Israel's credit, was vetoed by the
unfeeling President upon the grounds
that the back files of the National
Meteorological Bureau indicated that
no rain at all had fallen during the
entire period of the Peninsular cam-
paign. In vain did the congressmen
from Israel's district inveigh against
this unrighteous act ; in vain did Cor-
poral Tanner post, No. 193 , G. A. R. ,
formally call upon the unfeeling Presi-
dent to resign. It was all too appar-
ent that Corporal Tanner post, No,
193 , G. A. R. , had lost its grip.
As if to complicate an already dis-
tressing condition of affairs, Simms'
general store burned up one night,
and the
property of the Corporal Tan-
ner post (including twenty-four chairs,
one pine table, one copy of " Hardee's
Tactics," one flag, two kerosene lamps,

one melodeon and a dozen patriotic
song books) fell a prey to the remorse-
less flames ; no insurance . All that
was saved was a case of canned
peaches, and they belonged to Simms.

In this most critical emergency
Lucius came to the rescue. "I am,
by the kindness of fortune, " said he,

" enabled to do somewhat for this
noble cause. I will build a building
for Corporal Tanner post and give

the hall in the upper story to the post
for permanent occupancy, reserving
only the rentals derived from the two

stores in the lower story ." This was
generous, indeed . The building was a
handsome one of brick-an architect
from Cedar Rapids devised it. At the

dedication of the hall speeches eulogis-
tic of Lucius were delivered, and at
the next regular meeting of the post
Lucius was elected chairman of the
delegation to the national encamp-

ment. The other delegate was jovial
Hank Baker ; Hank had bled at

Antietam.
This was the honor that Lucius had
long coveted . " In Bayonet County,"
said he to himself, "the soldier boys
have by the most unjust decree of per-
verse fate fallen into disrepute . Else-
where it is otherwise . I shall go to
the national encampment , hear the old
songs, see the old faces, be honored
as a veteran soldier, and return home
encouraged and rehabilitated ."
Susan couldn't bear the thought of
his going away, and it was only after
he had promised to bring them some-
thing that the children became recon-
ciled to his departure.
" Don't go out after dark, or you'll

get stabbed ," were Susan's last words ;
"those city folks are powerful bad , I
hear."
" Why on earth have you raised the

price of tickets ? " asked Lucius of the
station agent.
"We had to do it, " said the agent .

"The war in Hayti has given every.

thing an upward tendency, you know."
Lucius didn't know, but he supposed
it was all right.
Curiously enough, the other dele-
gate, jovial Hank Baker, did not show
up at the railway station ; but presently
Hank's oldest girl (she had pale blue
eyes and long " yaller " hair) came
moping along. " Mother allows that
father aint goin' ," said the girl.
"6
Aint goin' ? " echoed Lucius.
" Naw, mother won't let him , " said
the girl.
Lucius was very much disappointed ,
and he was mad, too.
" If I was Hank, I'd go anyhow,"

said Lucius.
" But he can't," remonstrated the
girl, " f'r mother's took off his leg ' nd
locked it up. "
So Lucius had to pursue his journey
alone. The train was crowded . Lu-
cius finally, however, found a seat

beside a grim but intellectual- looking
passenger in the smoking car. The
atmosphere of the car was oppressive.

As night came on there was Titanic
snoring all around. Lucius tried to
raise one of the windows, but the rain
of the previous day had swelled it and
it stuck fast,
"I wonder " said Lucius to his grim
but intellectual-looking fellow- traveler
-" I wonder what makes the air so
close in this car ?"
To this query the other answered

solemnly : " I opine that some gentle-
man has drawed a boot. "
They stopped eight minutes for
breakfast next morning. The menu
was soda crackers and pepper-sauce .
When Lucius was asked to pay sev-
enty-five cents for this entertainment

he expostulated .
"What do you expect for seventy-
five cents ? " demanded the callous
money-changer at the door, " terrapin
soup and lemon pie ? "
Lucius returned to the smoking car
only to find that during his absence

his seat had been taken by a lady with
the asthma. For the next hundred
and sixty miles Lucius stood up, buy-

ing things of the train boy every time
that enterprising person came along.
It was a dreary, weary while , but Lu-
cius was not sorry that he had come.
I shall presently be more than repaid,”
thought he..
The destination was reached at last.
Every city is hot in the middle of an
August afternoon . Lucius' paper col-
lar fell off just as he stepped from the

train. As he sought to elbow his way
through the steaming crowd he could
not help thinking how nice and cool it
was under the soft maple trees of a
certain Iowa home lot he had in mind .
For some reason or other his carpet-
bag seemed to weigh a ton. " I must
be all worn out, " thought Lucius,

Well, no wonder, for I didn't get a
wink's sleep all night."
Lucius tried nine hotels, but couldn't
find accommodations. He began to
feel nervous and hysterical, because

everywhere he went he was conspicu-
ously advised by legends on the walls.
and buildings to " Beware of Pick-
pockets. " A raging thirst overcame
him , and he stepped into a convenient
place and asked for a drink of water.
" We don't keep it," said the fat
proprietor of the place.
" Don't keep it ? " echoed Lucius.
66
No ; ' t'a'nt healthy ; there's germs
in it," said the fat proprietor. " But I
can let you have a nice cool beer for
five cents."
An expressman agreed to take
Lucius to a pleasant boarding house

for three dollars, and , in climbing into
the wagon, Lucius split his coat very
badly across the
the shoulders. The
boarding house was in the suburbs ;
the terms were four dollars a day in
advance. Lucius was assigned to a
cot in the room over the kitchen ; the
room was neither large nor royally fur-
nished, but it was warm ; there were

seven other cots in the room , and it
was the desire of the proprietor to put
two men in each cot. "Are
" Are my fellow-
lodgers veterans ? " asked Lucius.
"No, they are brewery employees,"

was the answer. 66
They have given
up their regular rooms temporarily, in
order to accommodate the visitors."
For supper they had cold bologna

sausage in the shell, and dark bread
with aromatic pills in it. Then Lucius

went for a walk. A brass band was
parading the street, discoursing lively

music. " I wonder what patriotic air
that is," thought Lucius. " I've lived
so long upon my Iowa farm that I've
quite forgotten the good old songs we

soldiers used to sing." He asked a
stranger, and was told that the band
was playing a selection from “ Er-
minie." Lucius did not know what that
meant, and he was too modest to ask.
Poor Lucius ! He sought every-
where for a familiar face, but could
find none ; no familiar voice fell upon

his ears ; the sights and the sounds of
the big, hot city were strange to him.
He had hoped to have reminiscences
of the glorious old war days revived,
but none around him seemed to know
that there had ever been a war. The
bands played lively music, the cabmen

whirled hither and thither, innumerable
fakirs plied their trades upon every
hand, and everywhere there was a con-
fusion that seemed tumultuous. In it
all there was no atom of patriotism or
of cordiality ; all was business - cold ,
selfish , sordid business.
An orator was addressing a crowd at
a street corner ; he wore the honored
uniform , but his speech was not the

reminiscent talk which Lucius yearned
to hear. The orator was a candidate
for some local political office ; his elo-

quence burned incense to his ambition.
A stranger accosted Lucius civilly :
" You are one of us ? " he asked.
" I am an old soldier," said Lucius.
" I thought so," said the stranger.

" I am an old soldier, too. I am an
applicant for the post office at Four

Corners, Mo. , and I solicit you as an
old comrade in arms to sign my appli-
cation."
Of course Lucius complied with the

request. He signed forty-three similar
applications that evening.
After patient inquiry Lucius ascer-
tained that one member of his old
regiment had come to the encampment
-had traveled fifteen hundred miles to
mingle with the boys and renew dear

old times. This was Bill Merrill ; he
used to be sutler in Lucius ' regiment.
Having acquired wealth, he was now
a candidate for nomination to Congress
in his home district. He wanted to
be elected Grand Commander of the
Grand Army of the Republic this time,

because that would help him get the
congressional nomination.
Lucius fared ill that night, Oh, but
it was hot, and brewers will snore !
" Didn't I hear dogs howling all

night ? " asked Lucius next morning.
" Like as not you did, " said the land-
lady. " The dog pound is just back of
the house, and I've noticed that at this
season of the year the poor creeters is
awfully bothered with insomnia. ”
Going out upon the street Lucius
saw a handsomely dressed man, who
appeared to be weeping. The man
allowed that he was an old soldier
from Chicago. He showed Lucius a
telegram saying : "Come at once ;
Mamie is worse." The stranger said
that Mamie was his only daughter.
" If she is sick, why don't you go
home ?" asked Lucius. He pitied the
distressed father.
"I have barely time to catch the

train as it is, and I have hardly money
enough by me in currency to take me

through," sobbed the poor fellow.
Then he wondered (audibly) whether
Lucius would be willing to cash his
check for fifty dollars ?
" I reckon I'll have to do it, " said

66
Lucius, although it won't leave me
much change to run on till the bank
opens. "
Unhappy, thrice unhappy Lucius !
Beguiled by sentimental vanity to
leave a pleasant, prosperous home to
brave the malignities of the hot and
dusty and sinful metropolis , and to fall
presently a victim to the arts of the
swindler-oh, thrice unhappy Lucius,
say we !
But happy Hank Baker ! Happy in

the possession of that wooden leg, en-
during trade-mark of, and most honor-
able monument to, thy patriotic valor ;
happier still in the boon of a far- seeing,
forceful spouse, who, by the simple act
of comprehending, ravishing, and se-
questering that ligneous member, hath
plucked thee, as if thou hadst been a
brand, from the burning!
THAT POPISH PARSON
FELLOW . *
BY S. R. CROCKETT.
" NA," said Muckle Rob, as he led

the way from the quoiting green ,
where he had stopped the game, “ na ;
I didna haud wi' the Papishes— nor
yet wi' the Englishers. And I wadna
advise ony ane o' ye to say that I do.
But that's nae reason for you to dis-
turb the lad's bit service wi' your
sweerin' an' the jingling o' your
quoits ! "
The miner folk of Lochfinny were
not specially inclined to religion at any
time. As Muckle Rob would have
said, no men in Scotland had a clearer
sense of what was the right and chival
rous thing to do.
75
76 THAT POPISH PARSON FELLOW.
But the new English " priest " with

his daily services and early commu-
nion, his incense pot and acolyte , his
Fridays for confession and his out-
spoken contempt for their own quiet,
steady-going Presbyterian ministers,
was certainly more than a little hard
to bear. There had indeed been for a
long time a " Catholic chaypel " cower-

ing back among outhouses in a quiet
corner of the village. But as Muckle
Rob said , " Frae oot-an' oot Papishes,
ye kenned what to expec'. So he
looked for nae better !"
It was therefore considered as, at
the worst, a sort of half deserved jest
that the Lochfinny Quoiting Club
should have started four of its
youngest and noisest rinks on a vacant
piece of ground just outside the new
inclosure of the Englishers. Eugene
Challoner, priest of the mission church
of Saint Ethelreda the Less, celebrated
Evensong at the hour when the game
was apt to be briskest. And the grav-
THAT POPISH PARSON FELLOW. 77
ity of the choir boys and even of the

acolyte (who for many reasons had had
a bad time of it outside, till the parson
made him his gardener and bell-

ringer) was liable to be upset by the
jests of Wull Sproat, the champion of
the village ; while the solemnity of
the observances was not improved by
the "language " of the " shankers "
who were sinking the shaft of a new

pit. The settled miners looked down
a little upon these shankers as wild
asses , who are here to-day and away
to another job to-morrow. But they
made " big money," and expected the

license of a cavalry colonel as to
language.
The Rev. Eugene had indeed pro-
tested, first mildly and then vehe-
mently, over the wire fence. But Tam
Galletly and Pate Miller, young and

ill-set loons both of them , had stood at
the rink end, and , as the village put it,
"had set up a' manner o' lip an' back-
talk to the man in the white sark. "
The village did not indeed entirely

approve. It considered that "there
was nae need for the like o' that."
But no active measures of prevention
were taken, till Muckle Rob came
home. It was currently reported that
Rob could lick any two men in the

village with one hand tied behind his
back. It is not clear that this particu-
lar wager of battle was ever brought
to an issue ; but the fact that, with his
two hands normally free, Rob could

handle a large proportion of the male
population of the village to their
damage, was sufficient to give the
weight of a full bench of judges to his
slightest utterances.
Muckle Rob had been away on a
visit to a place " in the Lowdons "

where there was a good job, and had
just returned at the end of his contract
with full pockets and an air of pros-
perity which, in any other person,
would have been considered exceed-
ingly offensive.
When any of the inhabitants went

upon a jaunt, it always took a day to
accustom them to Lochfinny upon their
return, so Rob took the time out in
a tour of inspection . He heard that
Andrew Grieve was lying up again and
sending out his wife to do washing.
So he called on Andrew and swore by
the powers above and below that he
would break every bone in his body,

if he was not found working on the
" face " by the first shift to - morrow.
Andrew complained of a pain in the
sma' of his back.
" The pain will be in the braid o'

your back, gin ye are no forrit wi' your
tools as soon as the lave o' us the
morn ! " said Rob, as he slouched out
with elbows very wide of his sides, in
the position in which he held them
when he was making ready for a fight.
Toward sundown Rob, in his com-
prehensive survey of Lochfinny, ar-
rived at the new quoiting green. He
leaned his arms on a dyke and attended

to the points of the game with the air

of a past master. Tam Galletly was
ringing in the clanking disks, each fair
on the pin . Then Pate Miller with his
next quoit would " raise him oot o'
that ! " It was a fine level game, point
about, and evens between times. At
least twenty miners, mostly shankers ,

were cheering on their favorites, and
the noise was like a menagerie at the
time of feeding.
But through the uproar there stole
to the ears of Muckle Rob an un-
wonted sound. It was music, and there
was something solemn about it- as
Rob thought, like the first psalm on
communion Sabbath. He heard it
only faintly through the quieter blinks

of the roaring quoiters. The high,
clear voices of boys steadied and
weighed by one deep bass . The
sound came through the windows of

the " Englishy chaypel " beside the
rinks.
"What's that ?" queried Muckle

Rob suddenly, like a dog as it pricks

its ears, and Gilbert Grey, commonly
called Pow-head Gibby, explained the
matter to him , with many chuckles and
bursts of open laughter. But, curi-
ously enough, Muckle Rob did not
laugh at all. He was indeed more
than ordinarily grave as he listened , so
that Gibby wondered if, after all , he had
not got his pay for the contract " over
the water. "
At the end of the story Muckle Rob

said never a word. But he slowly took
his arms off the dyke and stepped over
into the field . He strode forward
toward the rinks as if more closely to
inspect the game. The players made

haste to welcome so mighty a cham-
pion , but Rob went solemnly to the
tee, and kicked out the steel pins at
the end of the rink to the back of which
the signal paper was tucked. He sent

the quoits spinning on their rims into
the distant hedge . He took Tam
Galletly and Pate Miller by the scruff

of the neck, and , knocking their heads

together, he marched them off the field.
" Deil's buckies ! " said he, between
every shake, " hae ye no the hale
green to play on, that ye maun come
here to raise a disturbance. I'll learn
ye ! "
It was not often that Muckle Rob
took so active a hand in matters ecclesi-
astical ; and while nobody dared to con-
tradict him, all were naturally anxious to
come at the explanation of the matter.
"What's ta'en ye, Rob, since ye
gaed awa' ? " asked one of the mates.
"Ye used to be sair again' the Papes ?
Hae ye turned your coat ? "
Na," said Rob. "I hae neither
turned Pape nor yet Methody in my
auld age, but for a ' that I'm tellin' ye
that the man wha meddles wi' the.
English chiel will ken the smell o' my

knuckles. "
There was a respectful silence.
Several had tried the perfume men-
tioned, but had misliked it.
44
Come your ways to the wood end
an' I'll tell ye the tale, " said Rob, in a
more persuasive manner, as one who
is conscious that he has hardly done
justice to the softer emotions.
" Noo, hearken, " said Muckle Rob,
when all the company had subsided
into the convenient posture of atten-
tion known as " hunkering," " an' when
I hae dune, ye'll agree on a new quoit-
in' green. Or else—weel , we'll 'gree
on a new quoitin ' green !

44
It was my wee Airchie, him that
was ta'en last year when he was thir
teen. Ye maybe mind o' him. He
keeped the second door on the west
side of No. 4 Pit. He was a boy
like the rest o' the reckless loons-
could lee an' sweer, an' aiblins , when
I wasna within hearin', tak a drap
drink an' smoke his pipe wi' the
aulder anes . Fine do I ken that my
lad was nae wee white hen that never
laid away !
" But ae Pay Saturday, wha should

84 THAT POPIS PARS F .
H ON ELLOW
come frae Manchester but the lad's
auntie, our Elizabeth's sister, ye ken ,

wha's man has done so weel at the
'pack.' An' she telled Airchie aboot
the grand place that the toon was,
an' the big pays, and the theayters
an' a ' the ongauns, till she had the
laddie fair by himsel'. I mis-caa'ed
her for a daft haverel' , pittin ' notions
into the bit bairn's head.
"But after that we had nae peace.
Airchie fleeched and cried on , till
nocht wad serve but he maun gang
awa' back to Manchester wi' his auntie
-her payin ' his passage an' gien' him

his meat, as it were. So that we had
nae great loss , but only his day's wage.

"Noo for a woman that was sic a
warrior at the eatin' an' drinkin' , for
her weight was twenty stane an' her

customary drink stone ale, Marget was
an awsome woman for meetin's an'
preachin's just fair unbelievable—
an' as for texts, boys, O, she could
rattle them aff like a string o' empties
gaun doon the dook. She never got

to the end o'yin o' them, afore the
ither was at its tail.
"So I kenned weel what the laddie
wad get in Manchester. There was his

uncle-a muckle baggit Englishman
that had made a heap o' siller by
keepin' nocht but ' prentices to the
pack, an' sackin' them afore their
time was oot. He took Airchie to the
theayter the ae nicht- an' the next
his auntie Marget garred him trot
awa' , michty unwillin', to some o' her
revival meetin's !
" But o' them a', there was no yin
that Airchie cared a docken for, till
on the Saturday Marget gets word of

a terrible genteel kid-glove Methody
meetin'. The folk were just crazy to
gang to it because it was hidden in the
head kirk o' the place, that was caa'ed
the Cathedral. Though what for it
wasna juist decently caa'ed ' the Kirk,'
is mair than I can tell ye.
"Jam-packed it was at ony rate

when Marget an' Airchie got there.

They were squeezed like herrings , an'
it was as warm as lyin' on your back
in the pit an' howkin' at the roof.
The preacher chap was a' done up in a
sheet, wi' a face like chalk, hair like
ink, and e'en like holy fire. Marget
said when she cam' hame, that she had
heard some preachin' in her life-mair
may be than had done her muckle guid,
but there was nocht in a' her experi-
ence to touch that chap. He mixed
the folk up, he twisted them , he
garred them laugh or greet juist as if

they had been bairns an' him the
dominie.
""
Marget was in great fettle (so her
man said) when she gat hame to her
stone ale an' mutton pies. It was the
grandest season ' she had ever had.
But my wee Airchie never said ony-
thing, but cam' his ways back to Loch-
finny an' gaed to his wark at No. 4 as
he had done afore.
" But for a' that he was a different
boy, I could see that. He gaed about

that quiet, the day by the length ye
wadna hae heard him lettin' an ill
word oot o' the mouth i' him. His
mother was fair feared that he was
in a decline.
gaun in decline. I asked Airchie
what ailed him. But he looked doon
an' said, ' Nocht particular, faither. '

So as he aye took his meal o ' meat
regular, I took nae mair heed either.
" But there cam' that smash in num-
ber fower the nicht the engineman got
fu'-careless drucken deevil he was-
an' wee Airchie got the nip. So we

took him hame to his mither, marchin '
slow an' carefu'-ye ken ower weel the
way that brings the women doon the
road like bees, to ken wha's man or
bairn it is they're carryin '.
" They hought Airchie to the bed
that he had risen frae sae brisk that
mornin', ta'en his bit can, an' set oot
whistlin' like a mavis. They laid him
.
doon, an' syne oor doctor cam'. He
was kind an' quiet-touchin' an'
PARSON
FELLOW
POPISH
THAT
888
.
bandagein', an' aye wi' a joke an ' a
""
heartsome word—
" Three cheers for the doctor !"
said someone in the background. But
Muckle Rob took no heed, but steadily
told his tale.
"Neel he bade Airchie be a guid
lad, to mind his prayers, an' do what
his mither telled him, an' he wad
gaffer the pit some day yet.
" But, lads, when he gaed oot , he
gied yon thraw o' his nose ower his
shooder at me, where I was standin'
like a useless lump in the corner. I
saw he wanted me to speak at the door,

an' my heart gaed down like lead.
" Rob,' he said, layin' his hand upon
my airm, ' better let Airchie get what
he wants. He will no want it lang.'
An, ' lads , I was near the greetin '. I

dinna need to tell ye hoo near, for ye
ken."
" But Airchie wanted naething, only

to be letten alane. Sae in the after-
nune his mither said to him, ' Airchie ,
lad, ye had better ken-ye are gaun to

leave us, Airchie-to leave your faither
an' your mither. Is there ocht that ye
wad like dune ?'
" But Airchie lay still an' made nae

mair sign than if she had telled him
to gang to ' hush-a-by ' when he was
a bairn. But in a while he said,
' Mither, if I maun dee, I would like
awsome well to see the chap in the
white goon, that preached when I was
wi' Auntie Marget. '
" But we talked to him an' argufied
wi' him, to pit him by the notion ,
sayin' that the man was some great
Englisher, an', besides a' that, it was
an awfu' lang road off. An ' it wasna
to be expected that he could leave his
wark an' come awa' to see a collier lad
here in Scotland. Sae we asked him
gin the minister here wadna dae, for

he was a decent man an' weel liked .
" But Airchie was michty set in his

mind, an' he said, ' I ken it's no to be
expected, but if I canna hae the chap
in the white goon to speak to me, I

want naebody ,' says he.
" Sae as I was writin' to his auntie
to tell aboot the accident at ony rate, I
put in a bit aboot what Airchie had
said-never thinkin' but that it wad
juist pleasure her to ken that Airchie ·
minded the preachin ', wi' nae thocht
ava o' onything mair.
" But Marget was ever, as ye ken, a
forritsome woman, I think it maun hae
been wi' companyin ' sae muckle wi' thae
Englishers, for it wasna o' her kind o'
folk. Sae as soon as she got the
letter, what does the daft woman dae,
but pits on her bonnet an' awa' to the
graund hoose whaur Maister Cox
Noble (for that was the name o' the

chap) leeved. But he wasna in. He
was awa' on his holidays that verra

mornin', away in Cornwall where the
Methody miners come frae. He was
fair dune wi' workin' at his revivalin',
the hoosekeeper said.

" Then Auntie Marget was gaun awa'
dishertened like, when the woman

cried her back.
" But,' says she, ' ye micht tell me

what ye cam ' aboot, if it's no a secret.
For the maister likes to hear when he
comes hame." Then Marget telled
her a' aboot the puir lad that had been

hurt awa' in the north . I jaloose she
was glad to hae somebody to tell. An'
sae she gaed her ways back hame.'
" But the woman maun hae sent the
preacher word on the instant. For it
was the very next mornin ' that we had
a telegraft to speer hoo Airchie was,
an' hoo lang the doctor thocht he
wad last. It said forbye that Maister
Cox Noble was juist aff a lang journey
an' verra tired , but to let him ken in
case o' need.
So as the doctor was in at the time
on his rounds, he said that he wad
send a message . But what he said I
never kenned, for he has his ain ways ,
the doctor, an' is no an easy man to
speer at.
(6
'We were a' sittin ' up wi' Airchie
that nicht, an' I could see he wadna
be lang. It was far ower in the morn-
in' on the back o' twa, that there cam'
chappin' at the door. The laddie's
mither gaed tae it, thinking it was

aiblins a neebour comed to speer hoo
Airchie was. But when she opened
it, there on the step, wi' a wee bag in

his hand, was the Englishy parson, an'
the sheet he had preached in, wi' the
e'en o' him fair sunk in his head wi'
travel and want o ' sleep . Sax hunder

mile he had come to see my wee
Airchie. We couldna speak to him,
we war that pitten aboot.
" So he cam ' ben, an' ye should hae
seen the laddie's face, as pleased like
as if he had seen an angel frae heeven.
" I can dee noo ! ' he said.
" An' there the Englishy chiel sat ,

wi' my boy's hand in his , a' the nicht
till the mornin' ; whiles speakin' a wee,
an' whiles no.
" An' so they sat till Airchie heard
the doors openin ' up an' doon the

raw, an' the men gangin' awa' to the
pit wi' their cannies an' their lamps.
" That is the day shift, minister, ' he
said ; I maun gang too !'
" An' that was the way oor wee
Airchie gaed oot wi ' the day shift ! "

And at the road end there was
silence a little when the tale was done,
and Muckle Rob sat with his hand
covering his brow.
At last Pate Miller spoke.
"We'll hae nae mair quoitin' ower
by the chaypel," he said.
" Na," said all the men, rising
""
together very soberly. Nae mair
quoitin' at the chaypel after this ! "
CAPTAIN MALLINGER . *
BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.
THE town was in an uproar. The

grocer's boy had dashed back even
more rapidly than that young Jehu
usually drove, with his eyes starting
out of his head and his hair erect
beyond its wont, and the news that
something had happened up at Captain
Mallinger's.
"Wal ! What is it ? " demanded Mr.
Peake, leaning across the counter, as
if he would shake the boy stammering
and gasping with fright and excite-
ment.
" There aint nobody there ! " ex-
claimed Joe , with his returning breath .
The back door's bolted, an' I looked
* Copyright, 1895, by Bacheller, Johnson, & Bacheller.
94
CAPTAIN MALLINGER. 95
inter the winders an' everythin ' was all

up standin' , an ' the gravel was tore up
roun' the door, an' there wa'n't a soul
in the house, an' there was an ax with
blood on it
it- "
"Whew! That's bad ! " cried John
Dark, jumping from his seat on the
head of a flour barrel.
"Wal ! An' w'at else did ye see ? "
urged Mr. Peake, feeling his feet as
Ajax did, " bare on bright fire to use
their speed . "
" Nothin'. There wa'n't nothin ' else
ter see. They've made away with ' em
.
an' gone off in the hoss an' wagon , I
tell ye ! "
" Made away with who ? Who's

made away with ' em ? " exclaimed John
Simpson, spilling the tobacco he was
cutting and nearly upsetting the raisin
boxes against which he was leaning.
" You aint meanin ' ter say that Cap'n
Mallinger's ben— "
"Yes, I be ! " said Joe, the chatter-
ing of his teeth not yet wholly subsid-
96 CAPTAIN MALLINGER.
ing, and even forgetting to kick out

of sight the " Bloody Butcher of Big
Bend ," which had fallen from his
pocket.
" But what for ? Who's any grudge
agin the cap'n ? W'y, he's the salt of
the yarth ! " appealing to John Dark,
who stood staring, wide- eyed and open-
mouthed. " Twould take an escaped
convict to do him a harm. "
" There there's ben two convicts
broke loose over to Scadden prison , "
said John Dark, recovering his fallen
jaw with a snap .
My good Lord ! " said Mr. Peake.
" An' Mrs. Mallinger, tew, " said John
66
Simpson. 'W'y, I do'no ' who'd ' a'
had the heart-' ith that face o' hern—
that smile-' twould melt a stun. My
gracious ! The hull town depen's on

her fer good works. Who could--
Dretfle news ! " he exclaimed, as Sam
Beales sauntered in. " Joe's jes' come
from the hill, an ' Cap'n Mallinger an'
his wife- I declare I don't seem ter
sense it-the good old cap'n ! What

in thunder- who under heaven- an'
""
what motive—
'Money," said John Dark. "He
allus kep ' it about him. I useter tell him

he'd be murdered for it some day-
66
' Cap'n Mallinger murdered ! "
44
An' his wife, " said Mr. Peake, with
a solemn nod that spoke volumes.
" No ! "
" Fact ! " said John Dark. " Oh, my
""
Lord, I'd ruther-
" How'd you know ? "
"Joe was up and seen it."
""
" Seen what ?
" He seen all the evidunce, an' he
run roun' ter the front door an ' it
wa'n't locked, an' he went in an' there
was the ax-—'
"6 Then the murderers went out that
way, depend on't ! There's that much

certing," said Sam .
" It jes' makes yer blood run cold,"
said John Dark. "A feller aint safe
in his bed these days. It's terrible ! "

R
AIN INGE
98 CAPT MALL .
" Turrible ! " said Mr. Peake.

" That's so," said the tramp who had
done Mr. Peake a " hand's turn of
work " that morning, and was eating
off the top of a soap box the lunch of
hard tack and red herring Mr. Peake
had given him .
"I suppose there ' ll be a reward,"
said Sam .
" Don't talk of rewards ! " cried
John Simpson. " I don't need no re-
ward for tryin' ter lay han's on them
"9
black-hearted villains-
" They'll be suspicionin' every loafer

in the county," said Sam, looking at
the tramp, who was hurrying with his
hard tack.
'Specially
" if he shows a dollar
more'n they can account fur," said
John Dark. At which Sam crammed
back in his pocket the money with
which he meant to pay off his long-
standing score.
" George ! I s'pose we'd orter be
noterfyin' folks, ' stid er stan'in' roun'
flabbergasted ! " said John Simpson.

" There's Lawyer Parker, he's a jestice,
""
an' Dr. Jones——————
' An' the minister, " said Mr. Peake ,
pulling a straw from the dates, and
sucking the end of it.
" Yes," said John Dark, cutting him-
self a thin slice of cheese inadvertently.
66
Cap'n Mallinger was a piller of the
church, an' a real sustainin' piller, tew."
" An' the constable."
" You go 'long fer all yer wuth,

Joe," said John Simpson, " an' summon
' em all here. Seem's ef we'd be
charged 'ith doin' of it ef we kep' it to

ourselves a durin ' minute. "
" That's so," said Mr. Peake , care-
fully setting the forgotten glass over
the cheese, and dusting off the
counter, from force of habit.
"T'll upset the hull neighborhood !

Cap'n Mallinger was about's near ter
every man in town as own folks.
Paid full half the town an' county tax
ter boot ! "
"One o' the Lord's picked men ,"

said Sam. " An' ef that's wot's come
to him, murdered in his bed, it don't
pay a feller ter walk stret, an' thet's a
""
fac' !Was the bodies-
"Wa'n't no bodies, " said John Dark.
" Didn't Joe say the gravel was all up-
set roun' the door ? There ' ll hev ter
be a sarch."
""
Certing," said Mr. Peake.
" There can't no inquest set ' thout
bodies ter set on, " said Sam . " The
cap'n ! Ef any body'd ' a' told me-
Wal, I never. An' his wife tew.
There wa'n't a better woman ' n Mis'
Mallinger in the hull o' Queens ! "

"W'at's all this ? " cried John Wat-
kins, bursting in like a thunder-clap.
"W'at's this cock-an'-bull story, Peake,
your Joe's a-tellin' all over town ?
Cap'n Mallinger- Wal," as he
looked round at the white and hor-
rified faces. "W'at nex' ? W'at 'd
anybody want- 'T must ' a' ben
his money. Blamed fool ! W'at ' d he
CAPTAIN MALLINGER. ΙΟΙ
keep his money in his house fer ? An'

go ter bed ' ith the front door open !
Trustin' folks an' temptin' Providence !
I aint no patience ! By mighty, it's
dretfle !"
“ Dretfle ! " said Mr. Peake ; and this
time he added , " Have suthin ' ? " And
they proceeded then to fortify them-
selves, holding the glasses to the light,
shaking their heads, and swallowing as
if it were a solemn act of sacrament.
Meanwhile, as Joe was speeding
along to the doctor's and the minis-
ter's, he had met Miss Mayne, after
leaving John Watson , staying long
enough to give the intelligence hur-
riedly, and she had made all haste into
the Medders' house. " Don't speak
66
ter me ! " she said breathlessly. Jes'
give me a dipper o' water or some cold.
tea. I'm all in a tremble. Oh, I de-
clare, my heart's shakin ' inside o' me !
Oh, Mis ' Mallinger ! Mis ' Mallinger ! "
" Ann Mari' Mayne, what ails ye ? "
cried Mrs. Medders, wiping her suddy
arms on her apron. " Hes anythin'

happened. W'at-w'at's the matter ?
W'y in the name o' goodness don't yer
speak ?"
"Hes anythin' happened ? Every-
thin's happened ! Oh, Jane Medders ,
you deserve ter hear the wust ! Cap'n
Mallinger an' his wife's ben killed and
buried in the garding ! "
" I don't believe a word of it !"
"You've no call to be doubtin' my
word. I wisht you hed. Joe Simmons
was up there an' he seen it. An ' Mr.
Peake an' John Simpson an' Sam
Beale an' John Dark has gone up an'
sent for Lawyer Parker, an' the in-

""
quest's going-
" I'll go right up myself," said Mrs.
Medders. " Tis the least I can do fer
Mrs. Mallinger. W'y, Ann Mari ', I

can't take it in ! Don't seem no way
possible. W'y, we aint never hed a

murder roun' here- There's Mis'
Lawyer Parker now ! Let's call her
in- I do'no' az we'd best , though,
She's awfle strung-up, an' 'll hev a

highsterick or suthin' , an' keep us ter
home w'en we'd orter be goin'-
But Ann Mari' had already beckoned
Mrs. Parker in and had broken the
news over her head ; and Mrs. Parker
had not disappointed Mrs. Medder's
expectations. " In our midst ! " she
cried. " A murder in our midst ! In
this innocent hamlet ! "
" There's nobody safe," said Miss

Mayne grimly. ' They'll be suspectin '
of all of us."
" Oh, who could have done it ? "
cried Mrs. Parker, a flood of tears and
a burst of laughter coming together.
" There she is , keeled over on ter the
sofy, an' we've got ter stay an' see to
her," said Ann Mari' . " Taint no place
for women anyway, up there now. "
" You can stay ef you're a mind ter !
I'm goin' along," said Mrs. Medders.
" It's my bounden duty an' no less. I
allus could see inter a grin' stone's fur

""
ez anyone-
' Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! " cried a little

woman, rushing in like an autumn
gust. "
" Have heard ?
Have you heard ? Do you
Do
believe it can be true ? Aint there
nothin' ter do ! Oh, I must do suthin' !
It seems ez ef I couldn't leave a straw
unturned ter bring sech a wretch ter

the gallers . Oh, I won't go fer to say
I'd rather it ' d'a' ben me-but I'd most
as lives-leastwise " and her words
failing her, the little woman began to

cry hot, hearty, honest tears.
" Why, Caddy, Caddy ! " they ex-
claimed, diverted a moment from Mrs.
Parker's efforts.
" He never done no harm to a mortal
soul ! " Caddy cried, from the depths

of her shawl. " He ses to me, ' You
shan't never want fur nothin ' so long's

I live, Caddy,' ses he. An' he aint
never took a day's rent since I've been
in the house. An ' Mis' Mallinger !
Oh , Mis ' Mallinger ! Oh ! my, my ! "
"Wal, I wa'n't goin ' ter say nothin ',"
said Mrs. Medders. " But the dead
deserve their due. An' ' twuz he give

me the money to send my Danny ter
the 'Cademy, an ' . I aint ashamed ter
tell it. An' I'll never forgit, w'en he
had the dipthery, how Mis' Mal-
linger--"
" Oh ! " murmured Mrs. Parker,
growing calmer. " We made our pro-
fession together, An' she's lived up
""
to it-
" I aint got nothink to say agin Mis'

Mallinger."
" And that's great praise from you,
Ann Mari' ! An ' ef we're goin' ter be
any good at all we'd orter be goin'.
You better now, dear ? " to Mrs. Parker.
" If you wouldn't mind leaving me
here—at least -oh, I can't be left alone
with this horror happening ! Oh,
Caddy, if you wouldn't mind staying-
""
oh, there's Amelia-
""
It's Mis' Dr. Jones ! " cried Mrs.
Medders, her horror, her curiosity, her
hospitality, all working together ex-
citedly with her tears. " Oh , Mis'
Jones, did you ever hear anythin' like

it ? "
" I don't know," said Mrs. Jones, tak-
ing the rocking chair, puffing, and un-
tying her bonnet, " how there was any-
thing human that could be so cruel!
I would as soon have thought of any-
one's killing a baby. It's come near
giving me a shock. But I said to the
doctor, ' Don't mind me,' I said. ' Go
right along to that suffering angel, *
said I. ' Suffering ! " says he. ' She's
dead and buried ,' says he. ' Then
she's a saint in heaven ! ' says I. And

that's what she is. Oh, to think I
should ever see the day ! " And she

rocked herself to and fro, in a luxury
of woe .
66
Come and sit by me, Amelia," said
Mrs. Parker feebly. " I like to feel
you near. It's-it's- oh , it's awful.
Who do you think it could have

been ? " And she began to shudder
again as the door opened and the
minister's wife joined them.
" You'll excuse me , Mrs. Medders ,"

Mrs. Brown said. "But I saw Mrs.
Jones come in- and it's such a visita-
tion ! "
""
' Oh, we're all struck of a heap,
Mis' Brown ! "
" I cannot altogether believe it now.

Mr. Brown has gone on , without staying
""
to inquire. What could anyone-
66
He kep' his money in the house. "
" But he'd have given it to anyone
that asked for it. He was Mr. Brown's
mainstay in the parish- his hand was
always open. I can't see into such a
dark Providence—— '
" The doctor always said Captain
Mallinger was his right-hand man. If
there was anybody needed medicines

they couldn't afford ; if there was any-
body ought to be sent to the city for
an operation he couldn't do himself-
though I think that was all nonsense,
and the doctor could do it just as well
as them that Captain Mallinger paid
for doing it-
" I don't know, " said Mrs. Brown.

"I suppose people are sure of what
they are talking about-but as for me,
I simply can't believe it ! "
" If Mrs. Brown would lead in
prayer, " sighed Mrs. Parker from the
sofa.
" I think we'd better be prayin' ez
we go 'long," said Mrs. Medders, with
determination . And then Mrs. Parker
struggled to her feet, and they all sal-
lied forth together.
" I don't feel's we've any call ter let
the men go fust ," said Miss Mayne.
" No , I guess we're as much the
community as they be," said Mrs.
Medders ; and they took the short cut
which brought them out on the high-
way at the same time with Mr. Peake
and the constables, and the fence-
viewer, and the rest, who were follow-
ing the doctor with the minister in
his gig, joined by Lawyer Parker,
and Mrs. Peake with a shawl over
her head and her voice sounding
volubly, and half the frightened vil-

lage in their train ; Mrs. Parker now
nearly fainting, and Mrs. Brown and
Amelia on either side supporting her.
It was just as they turned the cor-
ner at the foot of the lane leading up
the long hill that they met young Mar-
tin rattling along in the old buggy in
which he picked up the news of a half
dozen neighboring townships for his
report to the city newspapers.
Young Martin pulled up briskly as
66
the doctor's gig came along. ' Going
up the hill ?"
" Aint you pointed the wrong
way ? " said John Dark solemnly.
" No," said he. " Going home to
write my story . Ax in kitchen ,
house all upset, earth turned up new
in the yard- take the scare-heads just
as well as if it hadn't been a tussle
with the big gobbler, and the captain

hadn't come in, in the middle of
house-cleaning, and taken his wife
the back way over to Lortonville to
IIO CAPTAIN MALLINGER.
spend the night with his sister, who'd

sent over word she was sick—— "
" May I ask," said the minister,
"how you know all this ? "
" Saw the captain. Saw the captain
himself, five minutes ago, alive and
hearty, driving in the yard. "
" If that aint a dum shame ! " said
Mr. Peake.
DOUBLE HEAD AND SINGLE
HEART. *
BY ELISABETH PULLEN.
A SHADOW fell across the page that

the local editor was writing. He
looked up. A man stood at the other
side of the desk-a man with lively
eyes, a reddish mustache, his hat set a
little backward, and his hands in his
pockets.
" Good-day, sir," said the intruder.
" I have been in the counting-room to
see about an ad. And now here I am ,
to ask if you want a ' story.""
" Editors are always in want of a
' story, ' provided that it be a good one
and inside of a couple of thousand
words - or, if it was the autobiography
III
112 DOUBLE HEAD AND SINGLE HEART.
of Napoleon, with his views about

' Trilby,' we couldn't take it to-day. "
The visitor nodded to show that
he understood the pressure on the
columns .
"It is a remarkable case, sir.
Likely to attract the attention of
scientists and equally of the great
North American public . But I rather
think that I can give it to you inside
of two thousand words. You may
take it down as I tell it, and blue-pen-
cil it later. See ?
" Well, sir, I will introduce myself.
Raymond Dooley, advance agent of
Purington's Aggregation of Talent .
Will show here next Monday. Ad-
mission ten cents, children half price.
A good, clean show, sir, and one to
make the hair curl with wonder at the
Works of Nature and of the Human
Mind. We are engaged with a circus

in the summer ; in the winter we
travel, rent a vacant shop for a few
days, then move on . We hope to stay
DOUBLE HEAD AND SINGLE HEART. 113
some time in your beautiful city, Our

Aggregation, sir, at present consists.
of the Fat Lady, who should be men-
tioned first on account of her admirable
qualities, and who acts like an own

mother to our two sweet young ladies,
the Circassian Girl and the Snake
Queen. We also have among us the

Living Skeleton , the Sword Swallower,
and the Two- Headed Man -all of them
perfect gentlemen. My story is about
the Two- Headed Man. His name is
Daniel Nathaniel Briggs. His right-
hand head was baptized Daniel and his
left-hand head Nathaniel . For some
years, while he was a boy, his peculiar-

ity did not trouble him much. He
could eat two pieces of pie at once ;
and at school, while one head was re-
citing the other could peep at the book
and prompt him. Then he could study
two lessons together, say mental arith-

metic and spelling, and so save time to
play marbles. And if he could not find
another boy to play with him his right

head would play against his left. There

were ever so many ways that he could
see wherein his blessings lay, until he
left home and joined the Aggregation .
"Then it was that he found two
heads are an over-supply for one heart.

Because Daniel fell in love with the
Circassian Girl, while Nathaniel was
charmed with the Snake Queen . His
place in the show was between the two,
so that whichever way he looked , or
both ways, there was the idol of his
heart. Daniel preferred a blonde, and
our Circassian is the prettiest albino

that you ever saw ; eyes pink as a
rabbit's, and lovely white hair that
stands out a yard from her head in
a circle. And she has a beautiful dis-
position ; sits there selling her photo-

graphs and telling fortunes all day
long, like a lamb. But Nathaniel pre-
ferred a brunette ; and our Snake
Queen is that, and a beauty. Fine
figure, black braids down to her waist,
little hands that play with those snakes
as if they were no more than pond-lily

stems-and there is not a snake in the
bunch that can move swifter or more
flexibly than that girl. Disposition

lively, but you have to have decision of
character to handle snakes.
" At first poor Briggs did not know

what was the matter with him. He
said that he felt queer in the chest, as

if his heart was being pulled two ways,
and a stiffness in his neck. The Fat
Woman thought that he had taken

cold and advised him to drink hot
lemonade and put a mustard plaster
on his chest. That did him no good.
Then he found that when Daniel and
Nathaniel both looked at the same
young lady, he felt better in the chest,
but one head or the other would ache.
Finally, he narrowed it down to facts :
he had two heads, each in love with a
charming and respectable young lady—
and only one heart. And the heart
was getting strained. Then he began
to pay marked attentions to the girls,
hoping that he should find that he

cared more for one of them than for
the other, or that one would have him
and the other would not. In which
case the matter would settle itself.
But the young ladies, being such , and

very refined, were both as nice as could
be to him, so that he could not make
up his mind.
" Also, to let you see what elegant

people ours are, Daniel and Nathaniel
were kind enough to agree among
themselves that whichever of the two
was engaged in courting, the other
would shut his eyes and go to sleep in
order not to intrude. But one day
when Nathaniel was dozing and Daniel

was talking to the Circassian Girl, Dan
says : ' Excuse me a moment, Light of
the Orient, while I speak a word to
Nat, though I know that it is bad man-
ners to whisper in company.' So he
stirred Nathaniel up with the news
that the Sword Swallower was flirting
with the Snake Queen . Another time
Nat warned Dan that the Living

Skeleton was snipping off a lock of the
Circassian Girl's hair. So they had to
keep awake to look out for rivals.
And Briggs' chest felt so badly that

he feared that he should be obliged
to give up work and go to the hos-
pital.
" Then the manager talked it all
over with the Fat Woman , and the
motherly old soul advised him to
change the places of the young ladies,
putting the Snake Queen next to
Daniel and the Circassian Girl at the
side of Nathaniel. But poor Briggs
got his necks so twisted around each
other trying to look at their girls that
the Snake Queen herself had to come
to straighten him out. And the Na-
thaniel head smiled until it looked
fairly silly, while the Daniel head mut-
tered, ' Oh, get out !' The Sword
Swallower inquired what Mr. Briggs
meant by such language to a lady, say-
ing that he could swallow eighteen
inches of cold steel, but no cold inso-

lence. Briggs said that what he
meant was, get out his neck straight ;

and the Sword Swallower was obliged
to accept the apology, because heated
discussions are against the rules in

our Aggregation . You may call our
people freaks , or you may call them
.
artists, but they are perfect ladies and
time.
gentlemen every time. And don't you
blue-pencil that.
" One day Daniel and Nathaniel
tried to talk the matter out between
himself. Dan proposed that Nat
should cease his attentions to the
Serpent Queen and turn his thoughts

instead to the Circassian Girl. To
which Nat objected that Dan would
be jealous, and Dan allowed that it
would be so. Then Nat suggested
that they should offer the hand and

name of Mr. Briggs, each to his par-
ticular idol of their common heart :
but Dan pointed out that it would be
awkward if both were accepted . Nat
could only say that he wished that
there were a Solomon in our Aggrega-

tion, for his great judgment act in
the case of the baby with two mothers
was only a dress rehearsal to what he
might do with this difficulty. Dan
said that the Fat Woman was a real
Solomon in petticoats, and he, for his

part, was willing to let her umpire this
game. Nat agreed, and they went
and put it to her.
"What does she say ? Says she :
'Mr. Briggs, I don't think that you
are exactly suited to matrimonial life,
because you have too much head for
your heart ; and domestic felicity calls
for the opposite make-up . Two
heads , the saying is, are better than

one ; and with a double brain like
yours, Mr. Briggs, you would much
better choose fame instead of happi-
ness. Moreover , whichever young lady
you might marry, either Daniel or Na-
thaniel is bound to be dissatisfied all
the time, and both of them some of
the time. I should advise you to
cultivate your intellects, Mr. Briggs.'

"" Which
he did, because that very
day the Sword Swallower told him

that the Snake Queen had promised
to be Mrs. S. S. , and the next day the
Living Skeleton invited Mr. Briggs to
to be best man at his wedding with
the Circassian Girl. The marriages
came off, and you would not wish to
see more happy and united couples.
And the same applies to ' Mr. Briggs'
two heads. He , sir, following the
further advice of the Fat Woman, has
studied to be a Lightning Calculator.
In which he succeeded and got his
salary doubled. A salary, as you may
say, per head. Having two mouths he
is able to eat, and now can pay for,
double meals. Mr. Briggs, sir, is
growing very stout. But the Fat
Woman says that she does not fear a
rival, because nobody would care to
look at a man freak in that line. It is
because the public does not expect

lovely woman to weigh over 350

pounds that she is so popular.
"If you will accept these tickets, sir,
and bring your good lady and family
to see our Aggregation , or, if you are
not a family man, escort the object of
your fondest hopes- I shall be pleased
to make you acquainted with our artists,
and especially with Mr. Briggs."
Then the editor spoke : " Pardon
me, Mr. Dooley, but the story sounds
improbable."
" It is not improbable, sir, " retorted
the Advance Agent. " It is simply
impossible. It is, in short, a lie. I
made it all up myself for advertising

purposes. But I think that your
readers will be interested in it, if you
will print it, and I shall be glad, sir, to

set up the beer."
JETSAM .
" PEACE HATH ITS VICTORIES , " given in

this month's POCKET MAGAZINE , is one of
the last completed stories from the pen of
Eugene Field . It is, without question ,
among its author's most characteristic
pieces of work. For some time before his
death he had been engaged upon a book
which he intended should be his master-
piece in prose, " The Love Affairs of a
Bibliomaniac," but it was not finished, and
can only be considered as an interesting
fragment. A complete and uniform edition
of Mr. Field's writings has been proposed .
Such an edition should be brought out
promptly, if at all, and should contain a
judicious selection from his lighter news-
paper work. The previously published
" Culture's Garland " could be made the
basis of such a selection , although some
parts of that volume are of purely tempo-
122
rary and local interest, and others are un-

worthy of preservation.
****
The fifth large edition of " In the Midst

of Alarms," by Robert Barr, has just been
issued, and the demand for the book is said
to be steadily increasing. His new and
more important work, " A Woman Inter-
venes," will be issued immediately in larger
size than that of Mr. Barr's former books,
and with numerous illustrations by Hal
Hurst, which are said to be remarkably
good.
* **
A newspaper is usually regarded as a bad

road to literature.
Two of the most important literary
advisers of Charles Scribner's Sons, how-
ever, are Messrs. Brownell and Morse, who
were both successful newspaper men. Mr.
Moody, the editor of " The Book Buyer " is
also a graduate from the reportorial ranks.
****
When the announcement of the appoint-

ment of Alfred Austin as Poet Laureate of
England was made, his books could not have
been found in New York City in more than
124 LITERARY FLOTSAM AND JETSAM .
half a dozen book stores, at most. Mr.

Austin apparently bids fair to restore the
office to its original significance.
The appointment of a new Laureate gives
special interest and timeliness to Kenyon
West's scholarly work on " The Laureates
of England," from Jonson to Tennyson .
Careful comment on the life and work of
each of the Laureates is a feature of the
volume, which is probably the only an-
thology in existence which can satisfy the
curiosity of the average reader as to the
merits of these poets.
As is quite natural, the greater part of
the book is devoted to selections from
Southey, Wordsworth , and Tennyson ; but
Jonson, Davenant, Dryden, Shadwell, and
the others are adequately represented . The
portraits of the poets are a valuable addition
to the work.
****
More novels were offered to publishers

during the last year than ever before , and
their merit was unusually high.
A distinguished literary critic said recently
that in twenty-five years everyone will be
able to write a novel. It is a fact that the
standard of excellence in periodical literature
LITERARY FLOTSAM AND JETSAM . 125
has greatly improved during the last twenty

years, and that many older writers, who were
formerly prosperous, are now unable to com-
pete with the younger men.
****
The Rev. S. Baring-Gould's dramatic

story, " The Broom Squire, " which has been
running serially in The Illustrated American,
is to be handsomely brought out in book
form next month.
Many of the illustrations which have been
used in connection with the serial publica-
tion of this story in London and in New
York will be included in the book.
Mr. Baring-Gould can have no reason to
complain of the way in which his publishers
have handled his story , as the expenditure in
connection with these illustrations, both for
the original drawings and for the engraving,
must have been unusually large.
****
Adeline Sergeant, the author of " Out of

Due Season," and other popular works of
fiction, has written a story of London life,
to which she has given the clever title of
" A Rogue's Daughter." This will be pub-
lished shortly in book form under the Inter-
national Copyright Law, both in Great

Britain and in the United States.
The heroine is the daughter of a London
banker, whose financial crimes cause wide-
spread suffering. The girl's career is de-
scribed with considerable power and some
pathos.
****
Ward, Lock & Bowden are advertising in

an original way a new historical novel, " A
Man's Foes : A Tale of the Siege of London-
derry," by E. H. Strain. They advertise
that the book has not been copyrighted in
America, but should have been. They add
that, if it is reprinted , they will take back
from dealers all unsold copies and will give
a better book for a smaller sum than that
asked for any other edition. It will be
interesting to see whether the pirates heed
this warning .
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Good Novels by Popular Authors.
The Grasshoppers
By MRS. ANDREW DEAN. A tale of modern social
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The Twinkling of an Eye.

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THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE. *
By Brander Matthews.
CHAPTER I.
THE telegraph messenger looked

again at the address on the envelope
in his hand and then scanned the
house before which he was standing.
It was an old-fashioned building of

brick, two stories high, with an attic.
above ; and it stood in an old-fashioned
part of lower New York, not far from
the East River. Over the wide arch-
way there was a small and weather-
worn sign, " Ramapo Steel and Iron
Works," and over the smaller door
alongside was a still smaller sign,
"Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co. "
When the messenger boy had made
2 THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE.
out the name, he opened this smaller

door and entered the long, narrow
store. Its sides and walls were
covered with bins and racks containing
sample steel rails and iron beams and
coils of wire of various sizes. Down
at the end of the store were desks
where several clerks and bookkeepers
were at work.
As the messenger drew near, a red-
headed office boy blocked the pas-
sage, saying, somewhat aggressively,
"Well ? "
" Got a telegram for Whittier,
Wheatcroft & Co. , " the messenger
explained , pugnaciously thrusting him-

self forward .
" In there ! " the office boy returned,

jerking his thumb over his shoulder
toward the extreme end of the build-
ing, an extension , roofed with glass

and separated by a glass screen from
the space where the clerks were at
work.
The messenger pushed open the

THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE. 3
glazed door of this private office, a

bell jingled over his head, and the
three occupants of the room looked up.
66
Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co.? "
said the messenger interrogatively,

holding out the yellow envelope.
66
Yes," responded Mr. Whittier, a
tall, handsome old gentleman , taking
the telegram . " You sign, Paul. "
The youngest of the three, looking
like his father, took the messenger's
book and, glancing at an old -fashioned
clock which stood in the corner, he
wrote the name of the firm and the
hour of delivery. He was watching
the messenger go out when his atten-
tion was suddenly called to subjects of
more importance, by a sharp exclama-
tion from his father.
" Well, well, well ! " said the elder
Whittier, with his eyes fixed on the
telegram he had just read. " This is
very strange- very strange, indeed ! "
" What's strange ? " asked the third
occupant of the office, Mr. Wheatcroft,
THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE.
a short, stout, irascible-looking man,

with a shock of grizzling hair.
For all answer Mr. Whittier handed
to Mr. Wheatcroft the thin slip of

paper.
No sooner had the junior partner
read the paper than he seemed angrier
than ever.
"Strange ?" he cried. "I should
think it was strange ! Confoundedly

strange -and deuced unpleasant, too . "
" May I see what it is that's so very
strange ? " asked Paul, picking up the
dispatch.
" Of course you can see it," growled
Mr Wheatcroft, " and let us see what
you can make of it. "
The young man read the message

aloud :
" Deal off. Can get quarter cent better terms.

" CARKENDALE ."
Then he read it again to himself.

At last he said : " I confess I don't see
anything so very mysterious in that.
We've lost a contract, I suppose- but

that must have happened lots of times
before, hasn't it ? "
" It's happened twice before, this
fall," returned Mr. Wheatcroft fiercely,
"after our bid had been practically
accepted, and just before the signing
of the final contract ! "
" Let me explain, Wheatcroft," inter-

rupted the elder Whittier gently.
"You must not expect my son to
understand the ins and outs of this
business as we do. Besides, he has
been in the office only ten days. "
""
' I don't expect him to understand,"
growled Wheatcroft. " How could
he ? I don't understand it myself!"
" Close that door, Paul," said Mr.
Whittier. " I don't want any of the
clerks to know what we are talking
about.
" Here are the facts in the case,
Paul, and I think you will admit that

they are certainly curious, " began Mr.
Whittier. " Twice this fall, and now
a third time, we have been the lowest

bidders for important orders, and yet,
just before our bid was formally
before
accepted, somebody has cut under us
by a fraction of a cent and got the
job. First we thought we were going
to get the building of the Barataria
Central's bridge over the Little Mack-
intosh River ; but in the end it was
the Tuxedo Steel Company that got
the contract. Then there was the
order for the fifty thousand miles of

wire for the Transcontinental Tele-
graph—we made an extraordinarily

low estimate on that. We wanted the
contract and we threw off not only our
profit, but even allowances for office
expenses - and yet , five minutes before
the last bid had to be in, the Tuxedo
Company put in an offer only a hun-
dred and twenty-five dollars less than
ours. Now comes the telegram to-
day. The Methuselah Life Insurance

Company is going to put up a big
building ; we were asked to estimate
on the steel framework. We wanted

that work- times are hard and there
is little doing, as you know, and we

must get work for our men if we can.
We meant to have this contract if we
could. We offered to do it at what
was really actual cost of manufacture—
without profit, first of all, and then
without any charge at all for office
expenses, for interest on capital, for
depreciation of plant. The vice-
president of the Methuselah, the one
who attends to all their real estate , is
Mr. Carkendale . He told me yester-
daw that our bid was very low, and
that we were certain to get the con-
tract. And now he sends me this,"
and Mr. Whittier picked up the tele-

gram again.
" Do you mean to say that you think
the Tuxedo people have somehow

been made acquainted with our bids ? "
asked the young man.
" That's what I'm thinking now,"
was Wheatcroft's sharp answer. "I
can't think anything else. For two

months we haven't been successful in
getting a single one of the big con-

tracts. We've had our share of the
little things, of course, but they don't

amount to much. The big things that
we really wanted have slipped through
our fingers. We've lost them by the
skin of our teeth every time. That
isn't accident, is it ? Of course not !
Then there's only one explanation-
there's a leak in this office somewhere. "
" You don't suspect any of the clerks,

do you, Mr. Wheatcroft ? " asked the
elder Whittier sadly.
" I don't suspect anybody in particu-

lar," returned the junior partner, brush-
ing his hair up the wrong way, “ and
I suspect everybody in general . I
haven't an idea who it is, but it's some-
body ! "
"Who makes up the bids on these
important contracts ? " asked Paul.
62
Wheatcroft and I ," answered his
father. " The specifications are for
THE TWINKLING OF AN' EYE. 9
warded to the works, and the engineers

make their estimates of the actual cost
of labor and material. These esti-
mates are sent to us here, and we add
whatever we think best for interest and
for expenses, and for wear and tear,
and for profit. "
"Who writes the letters making the
offer the one with the actual figures,
I mean ? " the son continued.
" I do," the elder Whittier explained .
" I have always done it. "
" You don't dictate them to a type-
writer ?" Paul pursued.
"Certainly not," the father responded.

" I write them with my own hand, and
what's more, I take the press copy my-
self, and there is a special letter-book

for such things. This letter-book is
kept always in the safe in this office-
in fact, I can say that this particular
letter-book never leaves my hands.
except to go into that safe. And, as
you know, nobody has access to that
safe except Wheatcroft and me."
ΙΟ THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE.
" And the major," corrected the

junior partner.
" No," Mr. Whittier explained. " Van
Zandt has no need to go there now. "
" But he used to," Mr. Wheatcroft
persisted .
" He did once," the senior partner
returned, " but when we bought those
new safes outside there, in the main
office, there was no longer any need
for the chief bookkeeper to go to this
smaller safe ; and so , last month,—it
was while you were away, Wheatcroft,
-Van Zandt came in here one after-
noon and said that, as he never had
occasion to go to this safe , he would
rather not have the responsibility of
knowing the combination . I told him
we had perfect confidence in him— "
' I should think so ! " broke in the
explosive Wheatcroft. " The major
has been with us thirty years now.
I'd suspect myself of petty larceny

as soon as him. "
" As I said," continued the elder
THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE. II
Whittier, " I told him that we trusted

him perfectly, of course. But he
urged me, and to please him I changed

the combination of this safe that after-
noon. You will remember, Wheat-
croft, that I gave you the new word

the day you came back. "
Yes, I remember, " said Mr. Wheat-
croft. " But I don't see why the
major did not want to know how to

open that safe. Perhaps he is begin-
ning to feel his years now. He must be
sixty, the major ; and I've been thinking

for some time he looked worn ."
Five minutes later Mr. Whittier, Mr.
Wheatcroft, and the only son of the sen-
ior partner left the glass-framed private
office, and, walking leisurely through
the long store, passed into the street .
They did not notice that the old
bookkeeper, Major Van Zandt, whose
high desk was so placed that he could
overlook the private office, had been
watching them ever since the mes-
senger had delivered the dispatch.
CHAPTER II.
AFTER luncheon , as it happened,

both the senior and the junior partner
of Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co. had to
attend meetings, and they went their
several ways, leaving Paul to return
to the office alone. When he came
opposite to the house which bore the
weather-beaten sign of the firm , he
stood still for a moment and looked
across with mingled pride and affection.

The building was old-fashioned-
so old-fashioned, indeed, that only a
long-established firm could afford to
Occupy it. It was Paul Whittier's great-
grandfather who had founded the
Ramapo Works. There had been cast
the cannon for many of the ships of
the little American navy that gave such
a good account of itself in the War of
1812. Again, in 1848, had the house
of Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co. - the
present Mr. Wheatcroft's father hav-
ing been taken into partnership by

Paul's grandfather- been able to be

of service to the Government of the
United States. All through the four
years that followed the firing on the

flag in 1861 the Ramapo Works had
been run day and night. When peace
came at last, and the people had again
leisure to expand, a large share of the
rails needed by the new overland
roads, which were to bind the East
and the West together in iron bands,

had been rolled by Whittier, Wheat-
croft & Co. Of late years, as Paul
knew, the old firm seemed to have lost
some of its early energy, and having
young and vigorous competitors, it
had barely held its own.
That the Ramapo Works should
once more take the lead was Paul
Whittier's solemn purpose ; and to
this end he had been carefully trained.
He was now a young man of nearly
twenty-five-a tall, handsome fellow,
with a full mustache over his firm
mouth, and with quick eyes below his

curly brown hair. He had spent four

years in college, carrying off honors in
mathematics ; he was popular with his
classmates , who made him class poet ;
and in his senior year he was elected

president of the college photographic
society. He had gone to a techno-
logical institute, where he had made
himself master of the theory and prac-
tice of metallurgy. After a year of
travel in Europe, where he had investi-
gated every important steel and iron
works he could get into , he had come
home to take a desk in the office.
It was only for a moment that he
stood on the sidewalk opposite , look-
ing at the old building. Then he
threw away his cigarette and went

over. Instead of entering the long
store, he walked down the alley-way

left open for the heavy wagons.
When he came opposite the private

office in the rear of the store he
examined the doors and the windows
carefully, to see if he could detect any
means of ingress other than those

open to everybody.
As Paul entered the private office
he found the porter there, putting
coal on the fire.
Stepping back to close the glass

door behind him , that they might be
alone, he said :
66
Mike, who shuts up the office at
night ? "
" Sure, I do , Mister Paul," was the
prompt answer.
" And do you open it in the morn-
ing ?" the young man asked.
" I do that," Mike responded .
" Do you see that these windows are
always fastened on the inside ? " was
the next query.
"Yes, Mister Paul," the porter
replied.
" Well," and the inquirer hesitated
.
briefly before putting this question,
" have you found any of these win-
dows unfastened any morning lately
when you came here ? "
" And how did you know that ? "

Mike returned in surprise.
"What morning was it ? " asked

Paul, pushing his advantage .
" It was last Monday mornin', Mister
Paul, " the porter explained , " an' how
it was I dunno, for I had every wan o'
the windows tight Saturday night-
an' Monday mornin ' wan o' them was
unfastened whin I wint to open it to
let a bit o' air into the office here."
"You sleep here always, don't you ? "
Paul proceeded .
" I've slep' here iviry night for three
year now, come Thanksgivin', " Mike
replied. " I've the whole top o' the
house to myself. It's an iligant apart-
ment I have there, Mister Paul. "
When Mike had left the office, Paul
took a chair before the fire and lighted
a cigar. For half an hour he sat
silently thinking.
He came to the conclusion that Mr.
Wheatcroft was right in his suspicion.

Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co. had lost
important contracts because of under-

bidding due to knowledge surrep-
titiously obtained . He believed that
someone had got into the store on

Sunday while Mike was taking a walk,
and that this somebody had somehow
opened the safe. There was never
any money in that private safe ; it was
intended to contain only important
papers. It did contain the letter-book
ofthe firm's bids, and this was what was
wanted by the man who had got into
the office and who had let himself out
by the window, leaving it unfastened
behind him.
What grieved him, when he had

come to this conclusion, was that the
thief- for such the house-breaker was
in reality was probably one of the

men in the employ of the firm. It
seemed to him almost certain that the
man who had broken in knew all the
ins and outs of the office. And how
could this knowledge have been

obtained except by an employee ?
Paul was well acquainted with the

clerks in the outer office. There were
five of them, including the old book-

keeper ; and although none of them
had been with the firm as long as the
major, no one of them had been there
less than ten years.
While Paul was sitting quietly in

the private office, smoking a cigar,
with all his mental faculties at their
highest tension, the clock in the cor-

ner suddenly struck three.
Paul swiftly swung around in his
chair and looked at it. An old eight-
day clock it was, which not only told

the time of day, but pretended also to
supply miscellaneous astronomical in-
formation. It stood by itself in the
corner.
For a moment after it struck Paul
stared at it with a fixed gaze, as
though he did not see what he was

looking at. Then a light came into
his eyes, and a smile flitted across his
lips.
He turned around in his chair slowly

and measured with his eye the propor-
tions of the room, the distance between
the desks and the safe and the clock.
He glanced up at the sloping glass

roof above him. Then he smiled
again, and again sat silent for a
minute. He rose to his feet and stood
with his back to the fire. Almost in
front of him was the clock in the
corner.
He took out his watch and com-
pared its time with that of the clock.
Apparently he found that the clock was
too fast, for he walked over to it and
turned the minute hand back. It
seemed as though this was a more dif-

ficult feat than he had supposed, or that
he went about it carelessly, for the min-
ute hand broke off short in his fingers.
A spasmodic movement of his, as the
thin metal snapped, pulled the chain off
its cylinder, and the weight fell with a
clash . All the clerks looked up ; and
the red-headed office boy was prompt
in answer to the bell Paul rang a mo-

ment after.
66
' Bobby," said the young man to the
boy, as he took his hat and overcoat,
" I've just broken the clock. I know a
shop where they make a specialty of
repairing timepieces like that. I'm
going to tell them to send for it at
once. Give it to the man who will
come this afternoon with my card.

Do you understand ? "
" Cert. ," the boy answered. If he
aint got your card, he don't get the

clock. "
That's what I mean," Paul re-
sponded, as he left the office.
Before he reached the street-door he
met Mr. Wheatcroft.
" Paul," cried the junior partner ex-

plosively, " I've been thinking about
that about that- you know what I
mean ! And I've decided that we had
better put a detective on this thing at

once ! "
66
Yes," said Paul, " that's a good
idea. In fact, I had just come to the

same conclusion . I— ”
Then he checked himself. He had
turned slightly to speak to Mr. Wheat-

croft, and now he saw that Major Van
Zandt was standing within ten feet of
them, and he noticed that the old book-
keeper's face was strangely pale.
CHAPTER III.
DURING the next week the office of

Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co. had its
usual aspect of prosperous placidity.
The routine work was done in the rou-
tine way ; the porter opened the office

every morning and the • office boy
arrived a few minutes after it was
opened ; the clerks came at nine, and

a little later the partners were to be
seen in the inner office reading the
morning's correspondence.
The Whittiers, father and son , had
had a discussion with Mr. Wheatcroft
as to the most advisable course to
adopt to prevent the future leakage

of the trade secrets of the firm. The
senior partner succeeded in dissuading

the junior partner from the employing
of detectives.
" Not yet," he said, " not yet.

These clerks have all served us faith-
fully for years, and I don't want to sub-
mit them to the indignity of being
' shadowed '- that's what they call it,
isn't it ? of being shadowed by some
cheap hireling, who may try to distort
the most innocent acts into evidence
of guilt, so that he can show us how

smart he is."
“ But this sort of thing can't go on
forever," ejaculated Mr. Wheatcroft .
"If we are to be underbid on every
contract worth having, we might as

well go out of the business ! ”
" That's true, of course, " Mr. Whit-
tier admitted, " but we are not sure
that we are being underbid un-
""
fairly
"The Tuxedo Company have taken
away three contracts from us in the
past two months, " cried the junior

partner. We can be sure of that,
can't we ? "
"We have lost three contracts , of
course, " returned Mr. Whittier, in his
most conciliatory manner, " and the
Tuxedo people have captured them .
But that may be only a coincidence,
after all. "
" It is a pretty expensive coincidence

for us," snorted Mr. Wheatcroft.
" But because we have lost money,"
the senior partner rejoined gently, lay-

ing his hand on Mr. Wheatcroft's arm ,
"that's no reason why we should also
lose our heads. It is no reason why
we should depart from our old custom

of treating every man fairly. If there is
anyone in our employ here who is sell-
ing us, why, if we give him rope enough,
he will hang himself, sooner or later. "
"And before he suspends himself
that way," cried Mr. Wheatcroft, " we
may be forced to suspend ourselves. "
" Come, come, Wheatcroft," said the

senior partner, " I think we can afford
to stand the loss a little longer.
What we can't afford to do is to lose
our self-respect by doing something

irreparable. It may be that we shall
have to employ detectives- but I don't
think the time has come yet. "
"Very well," the junior partner de-

clared, yielding an unwilling consent.
"I don't insist on it. I still think it
would be best not to waste any more
time-but I don't insist. What will
happen is that we shall lose the rolling

of those steel rails for the Springfield
and Athens Road-that's all."
Paul Whittier had taken no part in
this discussion. He agreed with his
father, and he saw no need for him to
urge any further argument.
Now he looked up and asked when
they intended to put in the bid for the
rails. His father then explained that
they were expecting a special estimate
from the engineers at the Ramapo
Works, and that it would probably be

Saturday before this could be dis-
cussed by the partners and the exact
figures of the proposed contract deter-
mined.
" And if we don't want to lose that
contract for sure," insisted Mr. Wheat-
croft, " I think we had better change
the combination on that safe."
" May I suggest," said Paul, " that it
seems to me better to leave the combi-
nation as it is. What we want to do
is not to get this Springfield and

Athens contract so much as to · find
whether someone really is getting
at the letter-book. Therefore we
mustn't make it any harder for the

someone to get at the letter-book."
" Oh, very well ! " Wheatcroft
Mr.
assented a little ungraciously . " Have
it your own way. But I want you to

understand now that I think you are
only postponing the inevitable. "
And with that the subject was
dropped. For several days the three
men who were together for hours in

the office of the Ramapo Iron and
Steel Works refrained from any dis-
cussion of the question which was
most prominent in their minds.
It was on Wednesday that the tall
clock that Paul Whittier had broken
returned from the repairers. Paul

himself helped the men to set it again
in its old place in the corner of the
office, facing the safe, which occupied
the corner diagonally opposite.
It so chanced that Paul came down.
late on Thursday morning, and per-
haps this was the reason that a pres-
sure of delayed work kept him in the
office that evening long after every-
one else. The clerks had all gone-
even Major Van Zandt, always the last
to leave— and the porter had come in
twice before the son of the senior
partner was ready to go for the night.
The gas was lighted here and there
in the long, narrow, deserted store, as
Paul walked through it from the office
to the street. Outside the swift twi-

light of a New York November had
already settled down on the city.
" Can't I carry yer bag for ye,
Mister Paul ? " asked the porter, who
was showing him out.
""
' No, thank you , Mike," was the
young man's answer. " That bag has
very little in it. And besides I
haven't got to carry it far. "

The next morning Paul was the first
of the three to arrive . The clerks
were in their places already, but nei-
ther the senior nor the junior partner
had yet come. The porter happened
to be standing under the wagon arch-
way as Paul Whittier was about to
enter the store.
The young man saw the porter, and

a mischievous smile hovered about the
corners of his mouth .
" Mike," he said, pausing on the
door-step, " do you think you ought to
smoke while you are cleaning out our
office in the morning ? ”
" Sure I haven't had me pipe in me

mouth this mornin' at all, " the porter
answered, taken by surprise.
" But yesterday morning ! " Paul pur-
sued.
"Yesterday morning ? " Mike echoed,
not a little puzzled.
""
Yesterday morning, at ten minutes
before eight, you were in the private
office, smoking a pipe- "
66
'But how did you see me, Mister
Paul ?" cried Mike in amaze. " Ye was
late in comin' down yesterday, wasn't

ye ? "
Paul smiled pleasantly.
A little bird told me, " he said.
" If I had the bird I'd wring his neck
for tellin' tales, " declared the porter.
" I don't mind your smoking, Mike, "
the young man went on ; " that's your
own affair ; but I'd rather you didn't
smoke a pipe while you are tidying up
in the private office. "
66
Well , Mr. Paul, I won't do it
again," the porter promised.
" And I wouldn't encourage Bob to

smoke, either," Paul continued .
" I encourage him ?" inquired Mike.
" Yes," Paul explained , " yesterday
morning you let him light his cigarette
from your pipe- didn't you ? "
"Were ye peekin' in thro' the
winder, Mister Paul ? " the porter
asked eagerly. " Ye saw me—an' I

never saw ye at all."
" No, " the young man answered, " I
can't say that I saw you myself. A
little bird told me."
And with that he left the wondering
porter and entered the store. Just in-
side the door was the office boy, who
hastily hid an unlighted cigarette as he
caught sight of the senior partner's son .
When Paul saw the red-headed boy
he smiled again mischievously.
66
' Bob," he began, " when you want
to see who can stand on his head
longest, you or Danny the bootblack,

don't you think you could choose a
better place than the private office ?
The office boy was quite as much

taken by surprise as the porter had
been ; but he was younger and
quicker-witted .
" And when did I have Danny in
the office ? " he asked defiantly.
"Yesterday morning," Paul an-
swered, still smiling, " a little before

half-past eight. "
" Yesterday mornin '? " repeated
Bob, as though trying hard to recall

all the events of the day before.
66
Maybe Danny did come in for a
minute."
" He played leapfrog with you all

the way into the private office, " Paul
went on, while Bob looked at him with
increasing wonder.
"How did you know ? " the office
boy asked frankly. "Were you
lookin' through the windows ? "
" How do I know that you and
Danny stood on your heads in the
corner of the office with your heels
against the safe, scratching off the
paint ? Next time I'd try the yard, if

I were you . Sports of that sort are
more fun in the open air. " And with
that parting shot Paul went on his way
to his own desk, leaving the office boy
greatly puzzled.
Later in the day Bob and Mike ex-
changed confidences, and neither was
ready with any explanation.
" At school," Bob declared, " we
uster think teacher had eyes in the

back of her head. She was everlast-
ingly catchin' me when I did things

behind her back. But Mr. Paul beats
that-for he see me doin ' things when

he wa'n't here."
" Mister Paul wa'n't here, for sure,
yesterday mornin '," Mike asserted,

" I'd take me oath o' that. An' if he
wa'n't here, how could he see me givin'
ye a light from me pipe ? Answer me
that ! He says it's a little bird told
him-but that's not it, I'm thinkin'.
Not but what they have clocks with
birds into ' em that come out an' tell
the time o' day-' cuckoo ! ' ' cuckoo !'

' cuckoo ! ' An' if that big clock he
broke last week had a bird that could
tell time that way, I'd break the thing

quick-so I would."
' It aint no bird ," said Bob, " you
can bet your life on that. No birds
.
can't tell him nothin' more'n you can
catch ' em by puttin ' salt on their tails.

I know what it is Mr. Paul does- least
I know how he does it. It's second
sight, that's what it is ! I see a man

""
onct at the theayter, an ' he-
But perhaps it is not necessary to
set down here the office boy's recol-
lection of the trick of an ingenious
magician.
About half an hour after Paul had
arrived at the office, Mr. Wheatcroft
appeared. The junior partner hesi
tated in the doorway for a second,
and then entered.
Paul was watching him, and the

same mischievous smile flashed over
the face of the young man .
"You need not be alarmed to-day,

Mr. Wheatcroft," he said. There is no
fascinating female waiting for you this

??
morning.'
" Confound the woman ! " ejaculated
Mr. Wheatcroft testily. " I couldn't get
rid of her."
" But you subscribed for the book
at last," asserted Paul, " and she went
away happy."
"I believe I did agree to take one
""
copy of the work she showed me,'
admitted Mr. Wheatcroft a little sheep-
ishly. Then he looked up suddenly.
Why, bless my soul ! " he cried , “ that
""
was yesterday morning——-'
"Allowing for differences of clocks, "
Paul returned, " it was about ten min-
utes to ten yesterday morning. "
"Then how do you come to know
anything about it ? I should like to be
told that ! " the junior partner inquired .
"You did not get down til nearly
twelve. "
" I had an eye on you," Paul an--

swered, as the smile again flitted

across his face.
" But I thought you were detained

all the morning by a sick friend," in-
sisted Mr. Wheatcroft.
" So I was," Paul responded . “ And

if you won't believe I had an eye on
you, all I can say then is-that a little
bird told me."
" Stuff and nonsense ! " cried Mr.
Wheatcroft. " Your little bird had
two legs, hadn't it ? ”

" Most birds have, " laughed Paul.
"I mean two legs in a pair of
trousers," explained the junior partner,
rumpling his grizzled hair with an im-
patient gesture.
"You see now how uncomfortable it
is to be shadowed ," said Paul , turning
the topic, as his father entered the
office.
That Saturday afternoon Mr. Whit-

tier and Mr. Wheatcroft agreed on the
bid to be made on the steel rails
-needed by the Springfield and Athens

Road. While the elder Mr. Whittier

wrote the letter to the railroad with
his own hand, his son maneuvered the
junior partner into the outer office,
where all the clerks happened to be at
work, including the old bookkeeper.
Then Paul managed his conversation
with Mr. Wheatcroft so that any one of
the five employees who chose to listen.
to the apparently careless talk, should
know that the firm had just made a bid
on another important contract. Paul
also spoke as though both his father

and himself would probably go out of
town that Saturday night, to remain
away until Monday morning.
Just before the store was closed for
the night Paul Whittier wound up the
eight-day clock that stood in the
corner opposite the private safe.
ING
NKL
36 THE TWI OF AN EYE .
CHAPTER IV.
ALTHOUGH the Whittiers, father

and son, spent Sunday out of town,
Paul made an excuse to the friends
whom they were visiting and returned
.
to the city by a midnight train. Thus
he was enabled to present himself at

the office of the Ramapo Works very
early on Monday morning.
It was so early indeed that no one of
the employees had yet arrived when the
son of the senior partner, bag in hand,
pushed open the street-door and en-
tered the long store , at the far end of

which the porter was still tidying up
for the day's work.
" An' is that you, Mister Paul ? "
Mike asked in surprise, as he came out
of the private office to see who the
early visitor might be. " An' what
brought ye out o'

o' yer bed before
breakfast, like this ? "
" I always get out of bed before
breakfast," Paul replied. Don'tyou ?"
" Would I get up if I hadn't got to

get up to get my livin' ? " the porter
responded .
Paul entered the office, followed by
Mike still wondering why the young
man was there at that hour.
After a swift glance around the

office, Paul put down his bag on the
table and turned suddenly to the
porter, with a question .
" When does Bob get down here ? "
Mike looked at the clock in the
corner before answering.
" It'll be ten minutes," he said, " or
maybe twenty, before the boy does be
here to-day, seein ' it's Monday mornin',
an' he'll be tired with not workin' of
Sunday."
" Ten minutes ? " repeated Paul
slowly. After a moment's thought he

continued : " Then I'll have to ask you
to go out for me, Mike. "
" I can go anywhere ye want, Mister
Paul," the porter responded.
" I want you to go, " began Paul-
G
KLIN
38 THE TWIN OF AN EYE.
" I want you to go "-and he hesi-

tated as though he were not quite sure
what it was he wished the porter to do.
" I want you to go to the office of the
Gotham Gazette, and get me two
copies of yesterday's paper. Do you

understand ? "
66
Maybe they won't be open so early
in the mornin'," said the Irishman.
66 That's
no matter," said Paul,
hastily correcting himself. " I mean
that I want you to go now and get

the papers if you can. Of course, if
the office isn't open , I shall have to

send again later."
" I'll be goin' now, Mister Paul, " and
Mike took his hat and started off at
once.
Paul walked through the store with

the porter. When Mike had gone the
young man locked the front door, and
returned at once to the private office

in the rear. He shut himself in and
lowered all the shades, so that what-
ever he might do inside the office
could not be seen by anyone on the

outside .
Whatever it was he wished to do , he
was able to do it swiftly, for in less
than a minute after he had closed the
door of the office he opened it again
and came out into the main store with
his bag in his hand. He walked lei-
surely to the front of the store, arriving

there just in time to unlock the door
as the office boy came around the cor-
ner, smoking a cigarette.
When Bob, still puffing steadily,
was about to open the door and enter
the store he looked up and discovered
that Paul was gazing at him. The
boy pinched the cigarette out of his
mouth and dropped it outside, and
then came in, his eyes expressing his
surprise at the presence of the senior
partner's son down town at that early
hour in the morning.
Paul greeted the boy pleasantly, but
Bob got away from him as soon as
possible, for ever since the young man
had told what had gone on in the

office when Bob was its only occupant,
the office boy was a little afraid of

the young man, as though some way
mysterious, not to say uncanny.
Paul thought it best to wait for the
porter's return ; and he stood outside,
under the archway, for five minutes,
smoking a cigar, with his bag at his
feet.
When Mike came back with the two
copies of the Sunday newspaper he
had been sent to get, Paul gave him
.
the money for them and an extra quar-
ter for himself. Then the young man
picked up his bag again.

"When my father comes down,
Mike, " he said, " tell him I may be
a little late' in getting back this

morning."
" An' are ye goin' away now, Mr.
Paul ? " the porter asked. " What
good was it, then, ye got out o' bed

before breakfast and come down here
so early in the mornin' ? "
THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE. 4I
Paul laughed a little. " I had a
reason for coming here this morning,"

he answered briefly ; and with that he
walked away, his bag in one hand and
the two bulky and gaudy Sunday
newspapers in the other.
Mike watched him turn the corner
and then went into the store again,
where Bob greeted him promptly with
a request to know why the old man's
son had been getting up by the bright
light.
" If I was the boss or the boss' son,
either," said Bob, " I wouldn't get up
till I was good an' ready. I'd have my
breakfast in bed, if I had a mind to-
an' my dinner, too - an' my supper.
An' I wouldn't do no work, an' I'd go
to the theayter every night an' twict
on Saturdays. "
"I dunno why Mister Paul was
down," Mike explained . "All he
wanted was two o' thim Sunday papers
with pictures into 'em . What did he
want two o' thim for, I dunno . There's
readin' enough in one o' thim to last

me a month o' Sundays."
It may be surmised that Mike would
have been still more in the dark as to
Paul Whittier's reasons for coming
down town so early that Monday
morning, if he could have seen the
young man throw the two copies of
the Gotham Gazette into the first ash-
cart he passed after he was out of the
range of the porter's vision .
Paul was not the only member of
Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co. to arrive
at the office early that morning . Mr.
Wheatcroft was usually punctual , tak-
ing his seat at his desk just as the
clock struck half-past nine. On this
Monday morning he entered the store
a little before nine.
As he walked back to the office he
looked over at the desks of the clerks
as though he was seeking someone.

At the door of the office he met Bob.
" Hasn't the major come down
yet ? " he asked shortly.

" No, sir," the office boy answered .

" He don't never get here till nine. "
" H'm ! " grunted the junior partner.
"When he does come, tell him I want
to see him at once ! At once ! do you
understand ? "
66
' I aint deaf and dumb and blind ,"
Bob responded. " I'll steer him in to
you soon as ever he shows up."

But, for a wonder, the old book-
keeper was late that morning. Ordi-
narily he was a model of exactitude.
Yet the clock struck nine, and half-
past, and ten before he appeared in
the store.
Before he had changed his coat Bob

was at his side.
" Mr. Wheatcroft, he wants to see
you now, in a hurry, " said the boy.
Major Van Zandt paled swiftly, and
steadied himself by a grasp of the rail-
ing.
" Does Mr. Wheatcroft wish to see
me ?" he asked faintly.
"You bet he does ," the boy
answered, " an' in a hurry, too. He

come bright an' early this mornin'
a-purpose to see you, an' he's been
a-waitin' for two hours. An' I guess
he's got his mad up now ! "
When the old bookkeeper, with his
blanched face and his faltering step,
entered the private office, Mr. Wheat-
croft wheeled around in his chair.
66
Oh, it's you, is it ? " he cried. " At
last ! "
" I regret that I was late this morn-

ing, Mr. Wheatcroft, " Van Zandt began.
" That's no matter ! " said his
employer. " At least I want to talk
to you about something else. "
" About something else ? " echoed
the old man feebly.
"Yes," responded Mr. Wheatcroft.
" Shut the door behind you, please , so
that that red-headed cub out there
can't hear what I'm going to say.
And take a chair. Yes. There is
something else I've got to say to you ,
and I want you to be frank with me. "
Whatever it was that Mr. Wheat-
croft had to say to Major Van Zandt,

it had to be said under the eyes of the
clerks on the other side of the glass
partition. And it took a long time
saying, for it was evident to any
observer of the two men, as they sat
there in the private office, that Mr.

Wheatcroft was trying to force an
explanation of some kind from the old
bookkeeper, and that the major was

resisting his employer's entreaties as
best he could. Apparently the matter
under discussion was of an importance
so grave as to make Mr. Wheatcroft
resolutely retain his self-control ; and
not once did he let his voice break
out explosively, as was his custom.

Major Van Zandt was still closeted
with Mr. Wheatcroft when Mr. Whit-
tier arrived. The senior partner
stopped near the street-door to speak

to a clerk ; and he was joined almost
immediately by his son.
66
Well, Paul," said the father, " have
K LING
I got down here before you, after all,

and in spite of your running away last
night ? "
" No," the son responded, " I was
the first to arrive this morning,
luckily."
" Luckily ?" echoed his father. "I
suppose that means that you have

been able to accomplish your pur-
pose-whatever it was. You didn't
tell me, you know. "
" I'm ready to tell you now, father,"
said Paul, " since I have succeeded . "
Walking down the store together,

they came to the private office.
As the old bookkeeper saw them
he started up and made as though to
leave the office.
" Keep your seat, major," cried Mr.
Wheatcroft, sternly but not unkindly.
" Keep your seat, please."
Then he turned to Mr. Whittier.
" I have something to tell you both ,"

he said, " and I want the major here
while I tell you. Paul, may I trouble
you to see that the door is closed , so

that we are out of hearing ?"
" Certainly," Paul responded, as he
shut the door.
"Well, Wheatcroft," Mr. Whittier
asked, " what is all this mystery of
yours now ?"
The junior partner swung around in

his chair and faced Mr. Whittier.
66 My mystery ? " he cried . " It's the
mystery that puzzled us all -and I've
solved it ! "
" What do you mean ? " asked the
senior partner.
"What I mean is that somebody
has been opening that safe there in

the corner and reading our private
letter-book, and finding out what we
were bidding on important contracts.
What I mean is that this man has
taken this information filched from us
and has sold it to our competitors, who
were not so scrupulous as to be un-
willing to buy stolen goods ! "
"We all suspected this, as you
know," the elder Whittier said.
" Have you anything new now ? ”

" Haven't I ? " returned Mr. Wheat-
croft. " I've found the man ; that's all ! "
" You, too ? " ejaculated Paul.
"Who is he ? " asked the senior
partner.
"Wait a minute," Mr. Wheatcroft
begged. ' Don't be in a hurry, and
I'll tell you. Yesterday afternoon I
don't know what possessed me, but I
felt drawn down town for some reason.
I wanted to see if anything was going

on here. I knew we had made that
bid Saturday, and I wondered if any-

body would try to get at it on Sunday.
So I came down about four o'clock-
and I saw a man sneak out of the front
door of this office . I followed him as
swiftly as I could and as quietly, for I

didn't want to give the alarm until I
knew more. The man did not see me,
and as he turned to go up the steps
of the elevated railroad station at the
corner I saw his face."
" Did you recognize him ? " asked

Mr. Whittier.
" Yes," was the answer. " And he
did not see me. There were tears
rolling down his cheeks -perhaps
that's the reason . This morning I
called him in here, and he has finally
confessed the whole thing."
" Who- who is it ? " asked Mr.
Whittier, dreading to look at the old

bookkeeper, who had been in the em-
ploy of the firm for thirty years and
more.
"It is Major Van Zandt ! " Mr.

Wheatcroft declared.
There was a moment of silence ;
then the voice of Paul Whittier was
heard saying, " I think there is some

mistake."
" A mistake ? " cried Mr. Wheat-
"
croft. "What kind of a mistake ?
""
"A mistake as to the guilty man ,'
responded Paul .
" Do you mean that the major isn't
guilty ?" asked Mr. Wheatcroft.
" That's what I mean ," Paul re-

turned.
" But he has confessed , " Mr. Wheat-
croft retorted .
" I can't help that," was the re-

sponse. " He isn't the man who
opened that safe yesterday afternoon
.
at half-past three and took out the
letter-book. "
The old bookkeeper looked at the
young man in frightened amazement.
" I have confessed it, " he said pite-
ously. " I have confessed it."
" I know you did , major," Paul de-
clared, not unkindly. " And I don't
know why you did. For you were not
the man ."
" And if the man who confesses is
not the man who did it, who is ?"
" I don't know who he is--although
I have my suspicions," said Paul ; " but
I have his photograph --taken in the
act ! "
CHAPTER V.
WHEN Paul Whittier said that he
had photographs of the man who had

been injuring the Ramapo Steel and
Iron Works, showing him in the act of
opening the safe, Mr. Whittier and
Mr. Wheatcroft looked at each other
in amazement. Major Van Zandt
stared at the young man with fear and
shame struggling together in his face.
Without waiting to enjoy his
triumph, Paul put his hand in his
pocket and took out two squares of
bluish paper.
" There"-he said, as he handed

one to his father-" there is a blue-
print of the man, taken in this office at
ten minutes past three yesterday after-

noon, just as he was about to open the
safe in the corner. You see he is
kneeling with his hand on the lock,

but apparently, just then , something
alarmed him and he cast a hasty
glance over his shoulder. At that
second the photograph was taken, and

so we have a full-face portrait of the
man."
Mr. Whittier had looked at the
photograph, and he now passed it to

the impatient hand of the junior
partner.
" You see, Mr. Wheatcroft, " Paul
continued, “ that although the face in
the photograph bears a certain family
likeness to Major Van Zandt's, all the
same that is not a portrait of the
major. The man who was in here
yesterday afternoon was a young man

-a man young enough to be the
major's son ! "

The old bookkeeper looked at the
speaker.
" Mr. Paul," he began, " you won't
be hard on the " Then he paused
"
abruptly.
" I confess I don't understand this at
all," declared Mr. Wheatcroft irascibly.
" I am afraid that I do understand
it," Mr. Whittier said, with a glance of

compassion at the major.
" There" -Paul continued , handing
his father a second azure square-
"there is a photograph taken here ten

minutes after the first-at three-twenty
yesterday afternoon . That shows the
safe open, and the same young man
standing before it with the private
letter-book in his hand. As his head
is bent over the pages of the book, the
view of the face is not so good. But
there can be no doubt that it is the
same man. You see that, don't you ,
Mr. Wheatcroft ? "
" I see that, of course," returned Mr.
Wheatcroft forcibly. "What I don't
see is why the major here should con-

fess if he isn't guilty ! "
" I think I know the reason for
that," said Mr. Whittier gently.
" There haven't been two men at
our books, have there ? " asked Mr.
Wheatcroft. " The major and also this
fellow who has been photographed ?"
Mr. Whittier looked at the old book-
keeper for a moment.

66
Major," he said, with compassion
in his voice, " you won't tell me that it
was you who sold our secrets to our
rivals ? And you might confess it
again and again, I should never believe
it. I know you better. .
I have known
you too long to believe any charge
against your honesty, even if you bring
it yourself. The real culprit, the man
who is photographed here, is your son,
isn't he ? There is no use of trying to
conceal the truth now, and there is no
need to attempt it, because we shall be
lenient with him for your sake, major."
There was a moment's silence ,
broken by Mr. Wheatcroft's suddenly
saying :
"The major's son ? Why, he's
dead, isn't he ? He was shot in a
brawl after a spree somewhere out

West, two or three years ago. At
least that's what I understood at the
time."
" It is what I wanted everybody to

understand at the time, " said the old
bookkeeper, breaking silence at last.
" But it wasn't so. The boy was shot,
but he was not killed . I hoped that it

would be a warning to him, and that
he would make a fresh start. Friends
of mine got him a place in Mexico-

but luck was against him, so he wrote
me, and he lost that. Then an old
comrade of mine gave him another

chance, out in Denver, and for a while
he kept straight and did his work well.
Then he broke down once more and
he was discharged. For six months I
did not know what had become of him.
I've found out since that he was a
tramp for weeks, and that he walked
most of the way from Colorado to
New York. This fall, he turned up
here in the city, ragged, worn out, sick.

I wanted to order him away, but I
couldn't. I took him back, and got
him decent clothes, and told him to
look for a place, for I knew that hard
work was the only thing that would

keep him out of mischief. He did not
find a place-perhaps he did not look
for one. But all at once I discovered
that he had money. He would not
tell me how he got it. I knew he
could not have come by it honestly ;
and so I watched him . I spied after
him , and at last I found that he was
selling you to the Tuxedo Company. "
But how could he open the safe ? ”
cried Mr. Wheatcroft. " You didn't
know the combination. "
" I did not tell him the combination
I did know," said the old bookkeeper,
with pathetic dignity. "And I didn't
have to tell him. can open almost
He can
any safe without knowing the combina-
tion. How he does it, I don't know.
It is his gift. He listens to the wheels
as they turn, and he sets first one and
then the other ; and in ten minutes
the safe is open . "
" How could he get into the store ? "
Mr. Whittier inquired .
" He knew I had a key," responded

the old bookkeeper, " and he stole it
from me. He used to watch on Sun-
day afternoons till Mike went for a
walk, and then he unlocked the store,
and slipped in and opened the safe.
Two weeks ago Mike came back un-
expectedly and he had just time to get
out of one of the rear windows of this
office. "
"Yes," Paul remarked, as the major

paused, "" Mike told me that he had
found a window unfastened."
"I heard you asking about it, "

Major Van Zandt explained, “ and I
knew that, if you were suspicious, he
was sure to be caught, sooner or later.
So I begged him not to try to injure
you again. I offered him money to go
away. But he refused my money-he
said he could get it for himself now,
and I might keep mine till he needed
it. He gave me the slip yesterday
afternoon. When I found he was
gone, I came here straight. The front
G
58 THE TWINKLIN OF AN EYE.
door was unlocked ; I walked in and
found him just closing the safe here.

I talked to him , and he refused to
listen to me. I tried to get him to
give up his idea--and he struck me.

Then I left him, and I went out, seeing
no one as I hurried home. That's
when Mr. Wheatcroft followed me, I
suppose. The boy never came back
all night. I haven't seen him since ; I

don't know where is he-but he is my
son, after all- my only son. And
when Mr. Wheatcroft accused me, I
confessed at last, thinking you might
be easier on me than you would be on

the boy. "
" My poor old friend ! " said Mr.
Whittier sympathetically, holding out
his hand, which the major clasped
gratefully for a moment.
" Now we know who was selling us
to the Tuxedo people , we can protect
ourselves hereafter," declared Mr.
Wheatcroft. " And in spite of your
trying to humbug me into believing

you guilty, major, I'm willing to let

your son off easy .'
" I think I can get him a place where
he will be out of temptation, because he
will be kept hard at work always, " said
Paul.
The old bookkeeper looked up as

though about to thank the young man,
but there seemed to be a lump in
his throat which prevented him from
speaking.
Suddenly Mr. Wheatcroft began ex-
plosively : " That's all very well !-
but what I still don't understand is how
Paul got those photographs."

Mr. Whittier looked at his son and
smiled . " That is a little mysterious ,
Paul," he said, " and I confess I'd like
to know how you did it."
"Were you concealed here your-
self ? " asked Mr. Wheatcroft .
" No," Paul answered. " If you will
look around this room , you will see that
there isn't a dark corner in which any-
body could tuck himself. "
""
Then where was the photographer
hidden ?" Mr. Wheatcroft inquired
with increasing curiosity.

" In the clock," responded Paul.
" In the clock ? " echoed Mr. Wheat-
croft, greatly amazed. " Why, there

isn't room in the case of that clock for
a thin midget , let alone a man ! ”

Paul enjoyed puzzling his father's
partner. " I didn't say I had a man
there, or a midget, either," he ex-
plained. " I said that the photog-
rapher was in the clock-and I might
have said that the clock itself was the
photographer. "
Mr. Wheatcroft threw up his hands
in disgust. " Well," he cried, " if you
want to go on mystifying us in this
absurd way, go on as long as you like !
But your father and I are entitled to
some consideration, I think. "
" I'm not mystifying you at all.
The clock took the pictures auto-
matically. I'll show you how," Paul
returned, getting up from his chair and
going to the corner of the office.

Taking a key from his pocket, he
opened the case of the clock and
revealed a small photographic appa-
ratus inside, with the tube of the ob-
jective opposite the round glass panel

in the door of the case. At the
bottom of the case was a small elec-
trical battery, and on a small shelf over

this was an electro-magnet.
"I begin to see how you did it,"

Mr. Whittier remarked, " but I'm not
an expert in photography, Paul, and
I'd like a full explanation . And make
it as simple as you can. "
" It's a very simple thing, indeed ,"
said his son. " One day, while I was
wondering how we could best catch
the man who was getting at the books,
that clock happened to strike, and
somehow it reminded me that in our
photographic society at college we had

once suggested that it would be amus-
ing to attach a detective camera to a
timepiece and take snap shots every
few minutes all through the day. I

saw that this clock of ours faced the
safe, and that it couldn't be better
placed for the purpose. So, when I
had thought out my plan, I came over
here and pretended that the clock was
wrong, and in setting it right I broke
off the minute hand. Then I had a
man I know send for it to repair it ;
he is both an electrician and a photo-
graphic expert. Together we worked
out this device . Here is a small snap-
shot camera loaded with a hundred
and fifty films : and here is the electri-
cal attachment which connects with
the clock so as to take a photograph
every ten minutes, from six in the
morning to seven at night. We ar-

ranged that the magnet should turn
the spool of film after every snap
shot."
"Well," cried Mr. Wheatcroft, " I
don't know much about these things,
but I read the papers and I suppose
you mean that the clock ' pressed the
button ' and the electricity ' pulled the

999
string.'
" That's it, precisely," the young
man responded. " Of course, I wasn't
quite sure how it would work, so I
thought I'd try it first on a weekday
when we were all here. It did work
all right, and I made several interest-

ing discoveries. I found that Mike
smoked a pipe in this office , and that
Bob played leapfrog in the store and
stood on his red head in the corner
there, up against the safe- ”

"The confounded little rascal ! "
interrupted Mr. Wheatcroft.
Paul smiled as he continued : " I
found also that Mr. Wheatcroft was
captivated by a pretty book agent

and bought two bulky volumes he
didn't want."
Mr. Wheatcroft looked sheepish for
a moment.
" Oh, that's how you knew, is it ? "

he growled, running his hands im-
patiently through his shock of hair.
KLING
" That's how I knew," Paul replied.
" I told you I had an eye on you. It
was the lone eye of the camera. And
on Sunday it kept watch for us here,

winking every ten minutes. From six
o'clock in the morning to three in the

afternoon it winked ninety times, and
all it saw was the same scene- the
empty corner of the room here, with
the safe in the shadow at first and at
last in the full light that poured down

from the glass roof over us. But a
little after three a man came into the
office and made ready to open the safe.
At ten minutes past three the clock
and the camera took his photograph-
in the twinkling of an eye. At twenty
minutes past three a second record was

made. Before half-past three the man
was gone, and the camera winked every
ten minutes until seven o'clock quite in
vain. I came down early this morning
and got the roll of negatives. One
after another I developed them , disap-
pointed that I had almost counted a
hundred of them without reward. But
the ninety-second and the ninety-third

paid for all my trouble. "
Mr. Whittier gave his son a look of
pride. " That was very ingeniously
worked out, Paul ; very ingeniously, in-
deed," he said . " If it had not been
for your clock here, I might have found
it difficult to prove that the major was

innocent-especially since he declared
himself guilty. "
Mr. Wheatcroft rose to his feet to
close the conversation.
" I am glad we know the truth, any-
how," he asserted emphatically. And
then, as though to relieve the strain on
the old bookkeeper, he added, with a
loud laugh at his own joke , " That
clock had its hands before its face all
the time- but it kept its eyes open for
all that ! "
" Don't forget that it had only

one eye," said Mr. Whittier, joining
in the laugh , " It had an eye to its
duty."
"You know the French saying,

father," added Paul : " In the realm
of the blind the one-eyed man is
king.'"
THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT
MINDEN . *
A Song of Instruction.
By Rudyard Kipling.
THE men that fought at Minden, they

was rookies in their time-
So was them that fought at Waterloo.

All the ' ole command, yuss, from Min-
den to Maiwand,
They was once dam' sweeps like you.
Then do not be discouraged , ' Eaven is

your ' elper-
We'll learn you not to forget ;
An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or
you'll only catch it worse,
An' we'll make you soldiers yet.
67
68 THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN.
The men that fought at Minden , they

'ad stocks beneath their chins,
Six inch ' igh, an ' more .
But fatigue it was their pride, and
they would not be denied
.
For to clean the cook ' ouse floor.
The men that fought at Minden, they

'ad anarchistic bombs,
Served to ' em by name of ' and-grenades .
But they got it in the eye, same as you
will by an' bye,
When they clubbed their field parades.

'ad buttons up an' down,
Two an' twenty dozen of ' em told,
Nor they didn't grouse an' shirk at an
hour's extry work,
But kept ' em bright as gold.

was armed with musketoons,
Also, they was drilled by ' alberdeers-
THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN. 69
I don't know what they were, but the

sergeants took good care
They washed be'ind their ears.

' ad always cash in ' and,
Which they did not bank nor save,
But spent it gay an' free on their .
betters--such as me-
For the good advice I gave.
The men that fought at Minden , they

was civil-yes, they was ;
Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs ;
But they got it with the toe same as

you will get it- so !
For interrupting songs !

was several other things
Which I don't remember clear,
But that's the reason why, now the six-
year men are dry,
The rooks will stand the beer !
70 THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN.
Then do not be discouraged , ' Eaven is

your 'elper-
We'll learn you not to forget ;
An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or
you'll only catch it worse,
An' we'll make you soldiers yet.
Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you-
All for the sake of the corps-
Soldiers yet, if we ' ave to skin you ;
Run and get the beer, Johnny Raw,

Johnny Raw!
Oh, run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw !
THIRTEEN AT TABLE. *
By Mrs. Burton Harrison.
IF anyone had told Felicia Charlton,

the year before, that she would be
spending this summer at Newport as a
dweller in one of the most famous of
the new houses that are the glory of

that favored resort, she would have
laughed in the face of the recounter of
such a fairy tale that merry, heart-
some laugh of hers-for Felicia well
deserved her name.
But the event least expected had

occurred to the gay, pretty , poverty-
stricken Southern girl, the daughter
of an ancient line, who , during her
nineteen years of life, had never known
any but the hard rubs of fortune ; who
had grown up to womanhood under
71
72 THIRTEEN AT TABLE.
the wing of a widowed mother scarcely

eighteen years her senior, as lovely to
look at as was Felicia herself, but for
the traces left on her face and form by
care and by thought how to make a sub-
sistence for the two and to provide an
education for Felicia that should en-
able her to be self-supporting.
Latterly things had gone from bad

to worse with the Charltons. They
had spent one year in the desolation of
a poor country neighborhood with rel-
atives glad of the pittance their board

afforded ; and at the end of it Mrs.
Charlton had to accept an offer, from

a friend of early days who was about
to open a boarding school, to act as
her housekeeper. At the same time,
Felicia entered upon the exhilarating
career of assistant to a decayed
gentlewoman in Baltimore, who made
and sold the pickles and preserves so
renowned in old-time Maryland cook-
books. And all this while the girl's
high spirits had never flagged. She

THIRTEEN AT TABLE. 73
had laughed and prattled, and won

smiles from the little mother in her
hours of darkest despondency. She

had even coaxed into moments of
cheerfulness the broken-spirited lady
who manufactured pickles and pre-
serves ; and, while carrying on her un-
congenial work, lost no opportunity of
looking for something better. In this
stress , to Felicia's credit be it in-
scribed, it did not occur to her to write
verses, or a story, and offer them for
acceptance to a first-class magazine.

Summer had come around again,
and the prospects of spending it in a
piping-hot flat, in the temperature of
Baltimore, between June and October,
and in the company of Mrs. Ballantyne
and her gas stove, was all that pre-
sented itself to Felicia's mental gaze.
But in her heart a little bird kept sing-
ing, over and over, the blithe tidings

that her mother's employer was to take
her old friend on a visit of two months
to the mountains of Virginia, where

Miss Kennard was wont to return in

her vacations to the household of
parents who could give her food and
drink and a shelter, at least. How
much better was this than Felicia had
dared to hope ! Fresh air, fresh milk,

shade trees on a green lawn, the Blue
Ridge mountains encompassing their
daily horizon - what matter if the
Kennards' poor old plantation house
were falling to rack and ruin , so that
there was a roof to cover Felicia's dear
little mother, to whom all these luxu-
ries were promised ?
It had not been without a fierce
maternal struggle in the little widow's

breast that this invitation had been
accepted. That she should be taken
and Felicia left cost her gentle heart
strange pangs. But Felicia, who had
a way with her none could withstand,
had simply forced her point. She had
packed her mother's trunk, had gone
with her to the station, had parted
with her, to all appearances , joyfully,
and then, to save car fare , had set out

to walk over the burning bricks of
the pavement, on her return to Mrs.
Ballantyne's.
Just then a little victoria had driven
close to the sidewalk near her, and
pulled up . A young woman, charm-
ingly dressed , had leaned forward and
hailed her by name . Felicia, with a
start of pleasant surprise, recognized
an old schoolmate, a Western heiress,
who had recently married and taken
up her abode here in her husband's
city.
Between the two girls had passed
the usual expressions of fervent greet-
ing, and Felicia, installed under the
hood of the victoria, was quickly on
the way with Mrs. Branham to her
pretty bridal home.
What a contrast to it was presented
by the dull and paltry sitting room
of Mrs. Ballantyne's flat, where, later,
while adjusting their modest tea table,
Felicia tried to entertain her employer
EEN
76 THIRT AT TABLE.
with her new budget of gossip . But

the dame, who had a touch of tooth-
ache, and was not much in sympathy
with the holiday side of life , of which
little had fallen to her share,
responded sparely, and Felicia, after
washing the tea things, had retired to
the back window to get a breath of air
while meditating upon the exciting
events of the day.
More than on anything Maud Bran-
ham had shown her, Felicia dwelt
upon a hint Maud had let fall of help-
ing her to better her fortunes .
"I have a cousin, Mrs. Dwight
Caldwell, who goes to Newport every
summer, from New York," the bride
observed, " and I think, though I am
not sure, I heard her say she wishes to
engage a secretary to take there with
her this year. I can easily ask,
Felicia , and I'm sure, if you got it,
you'd be in luck. Such a splendid

establishment hers is-this of mine
would be swallowed up in it-and they
entertain everybody and go every-

where. She is one of the people one
reads about in the society columns
of the Sunday newspapers. Her hus-
band is a nice fellow, but he spends
most of his time at the club. Sally
Caldwell certainly goes at full speed
in society, but she has always been
a good-natured thing when I've seen
her, and I don't doubt you'd be good
friends. I shall write this very night
and ask Sally ; and how awfully jolly
it will be if I succeed ! "
Felicia, in her calmer mood, recall-
ing Maud at school as a kind, chatter-
ing, but somewhat dense creature, had
a moment's hesitation about trusting
to the judgment of her friend. But all
night long her dreams were roseate.

A situation as secretary, with a salary
that she could lay by for her mother's
use next winter ! As friend and
patron, a brilliant, cultured woman of
the world, who would inspire in her a

thousand new ideas, as well as open
N
78 THIRTEE AT TABLE .
the door for her into a wonder-world

of luxurious beauty ; above all, oppor-
tunity to see something beyond her
accustomed horizon ; to breath a fresh,
delicious atmosphere ; to see every-
where sights of refined loveliness.
Oh ! it was too good to be true.
A few days later a note arrived
from Maud Branham, asking Felicia
to luncheon the next day ; and when
Felicia presented herself as desired , no
time was lost by the young matron in
communicating her great news . Sally
Caldwell was already at Newport ;
Sally Caldwell had just sent away a
girl she had taken there who had
turned out to be absurdly stupid and
inefficient, and saucy, too ; and Sally
Caldwell was prepared to accept
Maud's friend upon Maud's recom-

mendation, provided she would " come
right away," naming a salary that
seemed to Felicia's limited experience
a king's ransom in amount !
The girl's head swam-a mist came
before her eyes . When she recovered
her self-possession enough to speak, it

was, woman-like, to ask Maud's advice
about the clothes she possessed, and
the clothes she would require. Maud,
also a true daughter of Eve, was here
quite in her element. Not only did
she generously offer to lend Maud
money for her journey, but, after
luncheon, took her to her room , and
there produced two or three frocks
and jackets and bonnets, of which
Felicia was requested to make her
choice.
" For you know, dear, if I have a
weakness, it is for always buying some-
thing in the latest fashion, and dislik-
ing it, when bought. .
It is ridiculous
the things I have stored away that I
can never use , and that never would
suit me anyhow. If you can't take
these as a present from an old friend
and schoolmate, why, I shall never
speak to you again as long as I live."
Felicia's laugh rang out. Here was
Maud's old familiar threat of school

days. Just now Maud seemed to be
an irresistible fairy godmother who
had only to wave her stick to be
obeyed.
Mrs. Charlton, in her remote Vir-
ginia refuge, had read her darling's
first letter from Newport with almost
ecstatic pride and joy. It seemed to
the poor lady that no one had ever
been blessed with such a lovely and
loving and clever and successful
daughter as she was. After she had
perused the epistle for the second
time, she took it out upon what old
Mrs. Kennard called the " front
poache." This was a rickety veranda ,

over which grew a vine of custard
honeysuckle ; and here old Mr. Ken-
nard sat, tilted upon his chair, under

a shelf supporting the water bucket
and a gourd, conning a weekly news-
paper. Near at hand, sitting also in a
split-bottom chair, with her knitting ,
the old lady listened with admiration
to the occasional oracles of informa-

tion transmitted to her from the
columns before him through her hus-
band's eyes . After long practice in
receiving her news and literature thus
at second hand, she had grown to
esteem him personally responsible for

the well- rounded sentences. Coming
around the corner of the house, Miss
Kennard, in a sunbonnet, was carrying
in a wooden bowl a brood of mother-
less chicks. Upon the threshold of the

door, and on both steps of the porch,
dogs were dozing. " How trivial every-
thing else will seem," thought the

little widow, advancing proudly among
them with her letter, " when they hear
what my child thinks of Newport ."
While these things were occurring
in far, tranquil Virginia, Felicia was

looking daily upon the passing show of
Newport. What a thrilling effect up-
on her imagination had been created
by the first view of the sumptuous part
of the town, as she approached it in

the little trap that had been sent to
meet her on her arrival. It happened
to be at an hour when the gay world

was on wheels ; and while our little
girl was gazing with all her eyes up-

on the kaleidoscope of vehicles and
people she observed the groom who
was driving her touch his hat to a
handsome , haughty lady, whose gaze
just then fell upon them from her
approaching victoria. Felicia saw
that she was the object of this lady's

thorough and perfectly frigid scrutiny,
and, to her surprise, became aware
that the survey was followed by an
infinitesimal nod in her direction .
When the carriages had passed each
other, the groom , leaning back, said,
in rather too jocular a fashion for
Felicia's sense of propriety :
" That's her. That's the madame
goin' out for her drive."
Felicia, answering him with a cold
look, asked no questions.
The incident, occurring upon the

threshold of her new experience ,
struck her unpleasantly. With her
simple hearty, Southern ideas, she
could not imagine arrival in a strange
house without some sort of a personal
welcome from the hostess ; and the
quality of that investigating gaze was
to her totally unknown . But taking
heart, she noted with delight the exqui
site beauty of the verdant lawns and
radiant flower-beds on either side the
well-kept driveway, leading up to such

a house as surpassed her fondest
dreams of imposing completeness.
The striped yellow awnings over all
the windows on the front, shading
flower boxes that overflowed with
bloom ; the verandas yielding glimpses
of chairs and couches and tall palms ;
and above all the flowers and plants
massed in every angle where they could

be placed in exterior decoration-
seemed to Felicia incredibly enchant-
ing. As she sprang out of the trap
84 THIRTE AT TABLE .
EN
and looked around her, catching a dis-

tant vista of blue sea at the end of a
reach of velvet sward, she was dazed
with excitement. She forgot that she
had been left standing there alone ;
and her first fall from the clouds was
caused by the too easy manner and

language of a lady's maid, who came
to escort her to her room.
Felicia had nothing to complain of
in externals, certainly. The room that
was assigned to her, all white-and-
rose, and green-stained furniture, with
a window looking upon the sea, was
delightfully cool and tempting. Tea
was served to her there, her little trunk
was brought in and unstrapped , and
upon the table she found a book or two,
should she wish to pass her time other-
wise than by looking out of the flower-
framed shaded window. But by and
by a sense of loneliness set in , and to
banish it she stole out for a walk
about the grounds .
Gazing from a shaded bench upon

the cliff over the sea, an infinite peace

fell upon her spirit. How long she
had sat there she did not know, until
she became conscious that a young
man in summer flannels had come
along the path leading to her eyrie,

and was searching for something he
had lost.
" I beg your pardon," he said , taking

off his hat ; " I did not know anyone
had succeeded me in
in my favorite
haunts."
"You are looking for this ? " she

said, holding out a little compass of
gold and crystal she had picked up ,
then forgotten .
"Yes, thank you . It represents the
economies of my small sister, who sent
it to me for a birthday gift to-day," he
said, taking the trifle from her finger
tips. " I suppose you have just come,
and have not yet seen our hostess . "
Cheered by his cordial tone, Felicia
answered as girls of her race and bring-
ing up are wont to do , easily, fearlessly,
smiles playing around her rosy lips and

in her friendly eyes ; and at once they
were launched upon a conversation
that proved, apparently, as satisfactory
to Duncan Moore as it certainly was
to our poor little confiding Felicia,
tongue-tied for so many hours and
aching to communicate her sensations
to somebody.
She at once discovered that Mr.
Moore was, like herself, an inmate of
the house ; was spending a fortnight
with the Caldwells, and was already
almost " done to death " with the
insistence of Newport hospitality. He,
of course, took this artless and refresh-
ing little person, whose good looks

charmed his eye, to be a guest upon his
own plane. Even if Felicia had sus-

pected his mistake, it would not have
occurred to her to do more than laugh
at it. " Down South ," the young lady
engaged to be governess , or companion,

or secretary, is in all things a member
of the family ; and when, as usual, she
is well-born and well-bred , the fact of

poverty is the merest bagatelle, so far
as social consideration is concerned.
How could it enter into Felicia's head
that she was henceforth to be taboo to
the familiar associates of her employer ?
Luckily, upon this occasion she was
spared finding it out. The maidenly
reserve that in her underlaid a manner
almost coquettish in its directness ,

prompted her to withdraw from the
interview. As she arose, and Moore
offered to walk to the house with her,
with the prettiest gesture of a small
white hand she motioned him to re-
main.
"But why ? " he said, " or, at least,
when shall I talk with you again ? "
"When you shall have been prop-
erly introduced," she exclaimed .
vanishing from his sight.
Moore sat for a while upon the for-
saken bench, till shadows lengthening
upon the lawn, and the purple light of
evening on the sea, sent him within
888
THIRTEEN AT TABLE.
doors to dress for dinner. When he

came down into the library where the
house-party met before dinner was an-
nounced, he looked eagerly about him ,
but in the various groups saw no sign
of the fairy of the cliff. As luck would
have it, his seat at table that night was
far away from Mrs. Caldwell's, and ,
until just after the men came in from
the smoke-room, he had no oppor-
tunity to make inquiries of his hostess.
" The young lady who arrived this
afternoon ? " repeated Mrs. Caldwell in
bewilderment . " You are dreaming.
Nobody new is here. You know they

say I am faithful to the same old gang ;
and you are all present, I believe. ”
Moore shrank a little from her as he
went on in his dogged way :
"Miss Charlton, I mean. The
young lady from Virginia, who came

while you were driving. "
Mrs. Caldwell threw back her dark,
well- coiffed head, with a peal of laugh-
ter.
" I see what you mean now. It's
my new secretary, who's come to re-

place that dreadful, pushing creature I
told you of ; and, if you believe me, I
got in so late to dress I have not seen

her yet. could you make such a
How could
mistake ? "
66'What mistake ? "
" To -er-suppose that she was one

""
of my guests.
Moore, angered by her supercilious
drawl, felt his color rise. Then , re-
straining himself, he turned on his heel
and left her, inwardly resolved not to
spend another day under the roof of
this pretentious worlding.
But when the next day came he did
not go away.
Poor Felicia ! It was such a sad

awakening ! Twenty-four hours spent
in her new capacity were quite suffi-
cient to show her that business, not
friendship, was the platform on which
she stood. Mrs. Caldwell, when, on
the morning following her arrival, she

summoned her latest employee into the
boudoir, where Felicia's duties were to
be performed, had received her with
the most perfunctory of handshakes
and without a smile. The girl, unac-
customed to this omission of social
courtesies, fancied herself an offender,
and for a moment stood sick at heart
with wondering what she had done.
In a short time, however, Mrs. Cald-
well made it perfectly clear that Miss
Charlton had in no wise transgressed
and was even welcome in the stress of
her employer's arrears of correspond-

ence. Leaning back in a deep wicker
chair with fantastic frilled cushions of
China silk, beside a table covered with
specimen vases of emerald glass, each
containing a perfect rose, the great lady
dictated a dozen little notes of cour-
tesy, conventionality, or charity, which

Felicia's fleet pen transcribed upon
sheets from a silver-mounted paper
case upon a table littered with every

contrivance for elegant dalliance with

letters. This done, and evidently
done to Mrs. Caldwell's satisfaction ,
Felicia received instructions to fill up a
series of dinner invitations, with names
and dates for a banquet to be given
three weeks off, and to address enve-
lopes from a list furnished her for a
musicale, for which a great artist had
been engaged to come up from New
York.
" This will give you enough for to-

day," said Mrs. Caldwell , rising to go.
" You will consider this room your
own to sit in at all hours, but your
meals will be taken in what we call the
schoolroom , which is more convenient
for the servants to carry the trays into.
I -er-think you probably dined there
last night. It is a nice little room, and
I hope you will take care that they
give you everything nicely. The
housekeeper has the strictest orders
about my secretary's comfort, and you
must immediately report to her if any
thing is omitted . At any time when

you want to drive out, one of the
grooms can take you in the basket
phaeton ; and, as you see, there are

books here, and a piano , if you play.
I am happy to say that I think you
will suit me exactly ; and I am glad
Maud Branham spoke of you . Your
salary will be paid monthly, and here
[handing her a check] is the first
month in advance , as you may have
some purchases to make."
This was a kindly thought, and to it
Felicia's spirit responded ; but, look-
ing into Mrs. Caldwell's ever unsmil-
ing face, she dared not speak. The
lady rustled from the room, and Feli-
cia, left alone in the apartment that was
so far beyond her dreams of luxury,
dropped her little head down upon the
blotter before her and burst into tears.
" She does not mean to be unkind ,"
Felicia mused, after a week of her
new life had passed . " I think, in

her heart, she fancies she is a model
patroness . But, oh ! the way I am
made to feel my distance ! Never a

laugh or a jest for me ; yet as soon as
she rejoins any of her guests , she is
the gayest of the gay. She must
know- Maud told her I am a lady

born, and entitled to rank with the
best. I wonder if it ever occurred to
her what life is without anybody to
talk to or to confide in. I suppose
a really superior character would find
solace in this beautiful room, and the
walks and drives , and , above all , in
books. But I never said I was a
superior character. I want people ,
people, people ! Somebody to sym-

pathize with me ; somebody to hear
my chatter. How many things I've
noticed here in Newport that it would

be such fun to talk over ! I declare I
almost hate this lovely old blue wall

paper, and the white enameled furni-
ture, and the blue china ornaments,
and that heavenly bit of blue glim-
mering sea I see over the flower- box
in the window. I know, now, how a

canary must feel in his cage. I want
to get out ; I want to sing, to spread

my wings outside. "
As Felicia spoke, the dimples came
back into her cheeks ; her eyes shone
blue as the sea ; she sprang out of her
chair, and, pushing away the chairs
from a space on the mirror-like par-
queted floor, began to tread the
measure of a solitary minuet.
After Mrs. Caldwell had left her for
the morning, she was sure of several

uninterrupted hours ; and now she
must relieve her restlessness or perish,

the little maiden thought. So, hum-
ming a tune from " Don Giovanni, "
she accompanied it with footsteps light
as thistle-down. Nearing the door into
the hall, she did not perceive it was
ajar, until a tap came, and at the
aperture was revealed to her startled
view a gentleman.
" Oh ! " exclaimed Felicia, instantly
transformed into a statue of confusion.
" I don't know what you think of me

bolting in like this, " said Mr. Dun-
can Moore penitentially. " But Mrs.
Caldwell is responsible. She is just
about starting for her round of visits,
and told me to run up and get her
address book—that is , she told her
footman Miss Charlton would give it
to him , and as he did not hear her, I
came. I hope you won't mind. I've
been wanting awfully to see you , ever
since that day, and to ask you to take
a walk with me ; but, somehow, I
couldn't get a chance. Why do they
keep you mewed up like this ? It is
shameful to treat you as if you were
fifty and a frump."
"Here is the book," said Felicia,
putting into his hands a silver-clasped
affair of lizard skin . “ You need not
apologize, I am not angry. I am only

too thankful to speak to somebody
who is not a servant."
" Thanks for small favors," he re-
plied, rather nettled.
99
96
THIRTEEN
AT
TABLE
.
" But I am very much ashamed that
you saw me prancing about like a luna-
tic," she went on. " I was only taking
a little exercise ; and now, please go,
for Mrs. Caldwell does not like to be
kept waiting."
"Will you fix an hour to walk with
me ?" he pursued eagerly.
""
' No , I can't ; so don't mention it
again."
" Will you talk to me somewhere-
anywhere ? "
" How can I ? " asked Felicia, ready
to cry, because, in her heart, she
would have liked nothing better than

the companionship of this hearty,
bright-faced young fellow.
" Then I shall just go out of this
house to-morrow," he said, like a
spoiled child. " As if I hadn't stayed
on here a week, for nothing but to get
another peep at you. "
" Don't, please ! " said Felicia, now
earnestly ; and with an impatient
gesture he departed .
That evening, one of Mrs. Cald-

well's periodical dinners, for which the
invitations had long been sent out and
accepted, was to take place. Felicia ,
who was by now used to such things
at second-hand, when sent down to
give the butler the dinner cards and
the chart of the seats, lingered , look-
ing on at the glittering table with its
burden of silver and wax lights and
banks of maiden-hair fern and roses.
She was no longer so much impressed

with mere externals as at first. Gran-
deur, from her point of view, had be-
gun to pall on her. But she had
quaint, wistful imaginings of what it
would be to be led in to table by such
a man as Duncan Moore, for example,
and sit there as a part of it. In this
crisis of her rash fancies, Hortense, Mrs.
Caldwell's maid, came in search of her.
"Hurry, mademoiselle , " said Hor-
tense, with a touch of authority.
" Madame must see you immediately ,
dans sa chambre. "
EN
RTE LE
98 THI AT TAB .
Madame, in her tea gown, sat before

her mirror, the picture of perplexity-
an open note in her hand.
" Can you imagine anything more

vexatious ? " she exclaimed patheti-
cally. " Miss Clayton has a headache ,
and cannot come. That girl is spoiled
beyond all endurance by being set up

as the season's beauty ; and I don't
believe in her headache in the least.
I have racked my brain to think of

someone to replace her, and failed .
I should not mind, but Mrs. Mammon ,
who thinks it such a tremendous con-
descension if she comes to you at all,
will not dine thirteen on any account.
She would not hesitate to call for her
carriage and go home, if she found out
we were thirteen. There's no help for
it. Miss Charlton , you must come
down and fill the vacant place. Dress

is, I suppose, your difficulty, but Hor-
tense is invaluable in suggestion for such
an emergency. In all my things she can
surely find something you can wear. "
Felicia wanted to rebel against the

whole of the programme, but against
the latter part of it she did rebel.
" I have a pale-blue crepon that is
very nice," she said quietly. " It has
a low bodice trimmed with a fall of
just such old Malines lace as you have

on your pearl color, but finer. It was
my mother's lace, " she added, seeing
Hortense stare. " If I may wear that,
Mrs. Caldwell, to oblige you I will

come down."
""
Certainly, certainly," cried the re-
lieved lady, breathing freer. " I-er
-suppose you won't wear ornaments ,
Miss Charlton ? "
" Don't be afraid of that, " exclaimed
the girl lightly, and then ran off to her
room .
Resentful of her enforced position ,
Felicia glided downstairs just as the

guests were falling into line to go
into the dining room . From the
shadow under the stairway she was

intercepted and captured by Duncan

Moore.
" I am actually, and without solicita-
tion, to take you in to dinner, " he said,
offering her his hand. "I have been
looking for you ever since Mrs. Cald-
well gave me notice of my good luck. "
He did not tell her the notice was
accompanied by profuse apologies at

imposing this service upon a " very
good friend." In his heart, he rejoiced
at escaping that conceited Irene Clay-
ton, who could think and speak of noth-
ing but her own successes in the social
world at Newport ; and, as the dinner
progressed, he observed, with con-
siderable satisfaction , that many ap-
proving glances were cast by the other

men present upon his charming little
partner ; for Felicia, forgetting her
woes, arose to the occasion royally.
Her color deepened , her eyes grew
starry, her animation was irresistible
to look upon and to share in . The
man on her other side, maker of
THIRTEEN AT TABLE. ΙΟΙ
opinions in Newport, even turned his

back upon the conversation of Mrs.
Mammon to enjoy this delightfully

fresh and sparkling little new girl
whom Mrs. Caldwell had been so
clever as to discover.
From exultant satisfaction Mr.
Duncan Moore retired more than once
into the sulks, when he found her
attention as freely bestowed upon her
other neighbor as upon himself.
Then, each time Felicia returned to
him , he was renewed in hope.
It does not require as much time for
Cupid, sly wight ! to wing a shaft into
a young man's bosom that will rankle
there for all time as for me to write
this sentence .
Already Duncan Moore, whose de-

sirableness as a parti did not in the
least affect Felicia, vowed to himself
that if he could not win this young
woman to be his, he would not look at
any other. It may be added that it
was in consequence of a falling out
with him , whom Miss Clayton had

believed to be her own possession , that
the young lady had failed to be pres-
ent at the dinner which afforded him
his chance with her rival.
" How very, very good of you ! " mur-

mured Mrs. Caldwell to Mr. Moore,
when the men came out from dinner.
" Yes," said Mrs. Mammon ; " and
as I understand it was all for my sake,
I appreciate it the more."
"Where is that charming Miss
Charlton ?" asked Mr. Trent, who had
sat upon Felicia's right at the table.
" How one does enjoy those little
Southern thoroughbreds, when they
are both pretty and merry, as she is !
You are a clever woman , Mrs. Caldwell,
to get such attractions for your feast."
Moore, who had responded to
neither lady's speech, stood glaring
into the corners of the great dusky
drawing room with its pink shaded
lamps, as if in search of her.
" I think it likely my secretary has

gone to her own room," said Mrs.
Caldwell to Mr. Trent. " I was just
confessing to Mrs. Mammon that I had
her in to play the quatorzième on a
pinch."
Moore- who saw what had hap-
pened, that poor little Felicia, like
many another of her sex before her,
left alone among the women, had been
driven from the field-felt a sudden de-
sire to champion the oppressed before

the world, to which he did not, at first,
exactly see his way to give expression

without transgressing propriety.
" You are really very civil, " said his
hostess, with a short laugh. " Why
should you look like a thundercloud
because Miss Charlton has shown the
good sense to go back to her proper

place ? One would think that, with
you, instead of being quatorzième ,
this young person is première ; " and
she laughed again , meaningly.
This gave Moore his opportunity.
" She is not, but shall be, if you are
going to be kind enough to give me

your help to win her, " he said , where
she alone could hear him.
Mrs. Caldwell, who had begun to
laugh as if this were a capital joke,
was silenced by the earnest expression
of the young man's eyes. And then,
by one of those caprices of Nature, who
delights in the development of unex-
pected traits, the woman's heart inside
of her crust of wordliness was touched.
" Good gracious , I believe you mean

it ! " she exclaimed wonderingly.
" I do mean it," he answered seri-
ously.
" To tell the truth, I have found
nothing but good in her," went on the
lady. " And now I think she is lucky
as well as good . "
Thus Felicia's episode as a bread-

winner in the circles of high society
was shortened in the fashion , varied ,
but substantially the same, in all ages.
Soon after the memorable dinner,

her letters to her mother began to be
infused with a spirit that made that
good lady wonder and rejoice. And ,
shortly after that, Mrs. Charlton and
the Kennards were surprised by a visit
from a gentleman , introduced through
a letter from Mrs. Caldwell, that left
them no room to doubt of his right to
a cordial reception .
In the autumn of that year, Mrs.
Caldwell lost her secretary.
But then, as she had gained the con-

sciousness of virtue rewarded for sub-
stantial kindness done , she could afford
to be complacent in telling the conse-
quences of her most recent attempt to
bridge over the predicament of thirteen
at table.
NEW YEAR'S DAY HALF A CEN-
TURY AGO . *
BY RICHARD HENRY STODDARD.
I SAT alone in my room one night,

and thought ; I might have said I sat
alone and wrote, but it would not be
the same thing , for writing is not neces-
sarily thinking nowadays, whatever it
may have been in the olden time ; be-
sides, my writing was at an end before
my thinking began. The time was
one that had long impressed me pro-
foundly. The hour was the one which
separates night from morning, the
one which separates the Old Year from
the New Year. The Poet Camoens,
who wrote Portuguese and Spanish with
equal facility and felicity, was wont to
106
NEW YEAR'S DAY. 107
say, the biographers tell us, when he

employed both languages in writing
the same poem, that he had one foot in
Portugal and the other in Spain. I am
like Camoens , I thought, not because
I am bi-lingual as he was, for my poor
mother tongue is the only one I know,
and that imperfectly , but because my
feet to-night are in two kingdoms. I
sat and mused a moment in the silence
and then continued, thinking aloud, as
I sometimes do , I am told. No , I am
not like that great poet (peace to his
perturbed spirit) , but rather, like the
old Roman god who was potent at this
season, bi -fronted Janus. I had never
quite understood the significance of
the thought of which he was the sym-
bol ; but sitting there on the threshold
of night and morning, it slowly dawned
on me, and colored my meditations .
Hail to thee, great Janus, hail !
Thou alone of all the gods hadst the
power of looking forward and back-
ward at the same time, of seeing at a
108 NEW YEAR'S DAY
single glance the future and the past.

They were alike to thee, Janus, for
thou wert a god, but they are not
alike to me, for I am a mortal , and I
am old. I cannot perceive what is
before me , for my sight is growing more
and more dim , nor, if I know myself,

do I care to, for whatever it may be, it
cannot be what it was once. When I
was young the coming of a New Year
always found me jubilant ; now I am
old, the coming of the New Year
always finds me silent. My favorite
book then was " The Pleasures of
Hope," which I long since ceased to
read ; my favorite book now is " The
Pleasures of Memory, " of which I mean
to read a page to-night. It will not
take me long, and it will suit the hour
and the time. It is about the New
Year. Not the New Year that is to
be but the New Years that were. The
old , old New Years.
My early recollections of New
Years were not connected with the
HALF A CENTURY AGO. 109
little old town in which I was born, nor
with any of the little old towns in

which my boyhood was passed ; for if
my family and the people about them
cared more for New Year's day than
for any other in the year, I did not dis-
cover that fact. But I suspect they did

not, for the Massachusetts of sixty or
seventy years ago had no holidays to
speak of only the Fourth of July,
when rustic patriots assembled in halls
and churches to hear the Declaration of
Independence read, and the times that
tried men's souls eulogized in long
orations, and Thanksgiving, when the
separated members of families reunit-
ed themselves in the old homesteads ,
where around the crowded table they
sat down to the midday dinner and de-
voured the annual turkey and the
occasional mince pie. Not in old
Puritan Massachusetts, but in old
Dutch New York, did my first actual
acquaintance with the New Year begin.
It was late in the thirties or early in
IIO NEW YEAR'S DAY
the forties- precisely when, it matters

not- and I was a lad of fifteen or
thereabouts. We were poor people,
and consequently my knowledge of

what was going on in the world was of
the slightest. I don't think I read the
daily papers, and I know I didn't read
the monthly magazines, for I believe
there were two or three then. My
literature was confined to my school
books- to Malte- Brun's Geography, to
Colburn's Arithmetic- I think it was
Colburn's-and to the Grammar of
Goold Brown, that grammatical Colum-
bus who discovered the common gen-
der ! Still, there are things that we

learn without reading, things that are in
the air, as one may say, and one of them
was the knowledge that New Year's
was a general and generous holiday.
I know it was a general one , for I did
not go to school that day, nor did my
stepfather go to work ; and I knew it
was a generous one when my mother
sent me to the little corner store where
HALF A CENTURY AGO. III
she purchased our goceries, for the

grocer gave me two or three cakes,
oblong cakes, stamped with ornamental
patterns, sprinkled with sugar, and
flavored with caraway seeds. I was
so astonished at his liberality that I
almost forgot to thank him. While I
was remembering my manners, a bevy
of boys and girls entered, self-invited
guests, who wished their host a Happy
New Year, and were rewarded with
largess, as I had been. I have eaten
angel cake since (but that was in Mas-
sachusetts) and have not relished it-
for what is the angel cake of manhood
in comparison with the caraway cake of
childhood ? Nor was that all, for while
we youngsters were enjoying our eat-
ables, our elders were enjoying their
drinkables. For in the little store of
which I am speaking, there was a hot

stove whereon there was a kettle, a
vessel, an urn- I know not what, which
boiled and steamed , and sent out a
spirituous flavor. And around this
112 NEW YEAR'S DAY
stove and close to this urn, there was

a group of men with tumblers in their
hands, who were emptying these tum-

blers as if they liked what they con-
tained. What did they contain ? I
know not, but I think the royal houses

of Bourbon and Rye had not yet suc-
cessfully invaded the Eastern States,

which were stoutly defended by their
native sovereign Rum, who , assisted
by his trusty vassals, sugar and lemons,
nutmegs and allspice, stood up boldly
among his thirsty subjects that cold
day in the masquerade of Hot Stuff !
Such was the way in which the com-
monalty of New York, to which I be-
longed, celebrated the advent of the
New Year. The gentry, as I learned
later, celebrated it with more decorum .
His honor, the Mayor, for example,
held a levee in the forenoon at his
room in the City Hall, where he
received his fellow citizens, high and
low alike, with urbanity, exchanged the
compliments of the season with them,
chatted a moment with those whom he

knew personally, and tempering hospi-
tality with dignity, dismissed them with
a glass of Madeira and a stately bow.
Lesser magnates-councilmen , alder-
men, and the like-received their con-
stituents at their own homes , with less
formality and more profusion . So the
day sped. At night the theaters were
crowded : Yankee Hill burlesquing the
Down-Easter at the Chatham ; Forrest
enacting the noble red man, or the
nobler Roman, at the Bowery ; while
some wandering British. star shot
madly from his sphere at the Park.

But the event of the night was the
great Charity Ball, for which scores of
tailors and hundreds of dressmakers
had plied their shears and scissors,

their thread and needles and thimbles,
day and night, and which had loomed
for weeks before the imagination of
the young, the fair, and the rich, who
on that happy occasion rivaled one an-
other in splendor of apparel, affability
114 NEW YEAR'S DAY
of manner, and determination to

46
' dance all night, till broad daylight,
and go home with the girls in the
morning."
When I emerged from my poor
environments , or, as my Lord Lytton

more languidly expresses it, when I
escaped from the dungeon of my low
estate, my knowledge of and familiarity
with the merriment of the New Year
increased ; for, from being the mere

spectator that I had been, I became at
last an actor therein. Several years
must be supposed to have elapsed

before this good fortune came to me,
and the scene to have shifted from the
little corner store where I first met his
jovial majesty, the New Year, to the

comfortable dwellings of certain friends
whose acquaintance I had made in the
interim , and to whom, accompanied by
other friends, I now made an annual
pilgrimage. We were young fellows ,
most of us, and all good walkers, as we
had need to be, since many of those
shrines were far apart, not easily
reached, as they would be now by

horse cars, electric cars, or elevated
roads, but sheltered in the silent
security of pleasant streets. We met
in the forenoon in the rooms of one
another A., B. , and C. , say, at the room
of D. -and each producing the names
and residences of those whom we in-
tended to visit, we discussed the order
in which our visits should be made, or,
as we put it, planned the day's cam-
paign. This settled, we started, arm
in arm, if the sidewalks were wide
enough to permit of marching four

abreast, or tandem if they were too
narrow for that ; tramping along in the
cold wind, which soon brought a glow
to each cheek, and humming, it may be,
the air of some popular melody.
New Year's Day, beyond all other
days in the twelve months, was Ladies'
Day, and it was to the ladies and not
the gentlemen of the house that we
paid our visits, and our respects- to
116 NEW YEAR'S DAY
their wives and daughters, their

mothers and sisters, their aunts and
nieces, and all their womanhood.
They expected us, and were waiting

for us clad in their most becoming
frocks and laces and jewels, and all ,
as one of our old-time poets declared ,
beauteous with roseate smiles. They
rose as we entered and- it was long
since, remember-courtesied as we
bowed. It was " Happy New Year ! "

from us, and " Happy New Year ! "
from them, and before we ceased our
greetings, collective and individual, we
were well in the century of Happy
New Years ! It was a cold day, and
we must take something. What
should it be ? There were decanters
of sherry, decanters of madeira, and
there was something warm-perhaps it
was hot lemonade ! There were also
cakes (not caraway cakes , now, but

sponge cake and pound cake ! ) , and
there were sandwiches and pickled
oysters and chicken salad. So the
campaign opened, and so the engage-

ment went on, house after house, street
after street, hour after hour. Recruits
of eighteen and twenty may have blun-
dered somewhat in their drill before
the day was over, but old soldiers of
twenty-four pressed on unflinchingly
till nightfall, and all the works were
carried . We were brave, we were
young, we were light-hearted, and if
we had a little headache in the morn-
ing we didn't mind it much. We are

old now, and not many of us are left.
Some of us married money, and,
fathers of families, are grave, potent,
and reverend seignors. Others of us

lie in quiet graves on country hillsides,
and others in long trenches in the
neighborhood of great battlefields . I
do not lament these, or not to - night,
for the dead are more alive to me than
the living, and never so alive as now,

when the midnight bells are pealing,
and they are with me, as in the old
time, keeping the old, old New Years !
MARY MULQUEEN . *
By Robert W. Chambers.
" OH, Mary Mulqueen !

Now what do you mean ,
Now what do you mean, aroon ?
Why don't ye smile ?
Ye trate me vile ! "
Sez Mary Mulqueen, " Ye aint me

style-
I'm in love wid a bold dragoon.
I'm in love wid a bold dragoon, me lad,
No infantry man for me ;
An' married we'll be whin the moon ,
me lad,
Is fuller than e'er ye be.
Oh , Cassidy !
My Cassidy,
He bugles for Troop B.
Whin Cassidy rides wid his squadron,
He is the man for me ! "
118
MARY MULQUEEN. 119
" Oh, Mary Mulqueen !

The meadows is green,
The sky is as blue as yer eyes ;
Ye're white as chalk ;
Ye nade the walk."
Sez Mary Mulqueen , " Now stop yer
talk ,
I'm on to you battery b'ys.

I'm on to the battery doods, me lad,
No battery dood for me ;
A dashing dragoon I'll marry, me lad,
The trumpeter in Troop B.
'Tis Cassidy,
My Cassidy,
He bugles in Troop B.
66
' Oh , Mary Mulqueen !
The tears I've seen
A-glint in yer sweet blue eyes ;

Yer cheeks is frail,
Yer face is pale."
Sez Mary Mulqueen , " Now I'll go bail
Ye think I swally such lies !
120 MARY MULQUEEN.
Ye're thinkin' I swally yer lies, me lad,

Me jool av a small marine ;
Go jolly a girl av yer size, me lad ;
Ye can't fool Molly Mulqueen ;
For Cassidy,
My Cassidy,
Still bugles in Troop B.
" Oh , Mary Mulqueen !

Ye're sweet sixteen ,
Yer neck is white as the snow ;
Come, ship wid me,

99
We'll sail life's sea-
Sez Mary Mulqueen, " Now let me be,

For I'm weak wid me weight of wcc.
Ah ! me sorrow is mortal keen , me lad.
An' the ships that put to sea
Must sail without Molly Mulqueen , me
lad,
For her heart's at Wounded Knee,
Where Cassidy,
My Cassidy,
Lies low upon the lea,
MARY MULQUEEN. 121
And he'll ride no more wid his squad-

ron ;
What is the world to me !
Ah , Cassidy !
My Cassidy,
Ye died at Wounded Knee,
But yer soul rides on wid yer squadron

Through all eternity !'
JETSAM .
ALTHOUGH much interest has been

aroused in connection with Anthony Hope's
new Greek story, which is said to far sur-
pass " The Prisoner of Zenda, " it will not
appear in book form until early in 1897.
This is rendered necessary by the impor-
tance of the work, and the requirements of
its serial publication in London and New
York. It is an interesting example of the
necessary fore- handedness of publishers, that
the illustrations for the book have already
been completed. The drawings for these
have been made by Wechsler, who has given
to them months of careful work from the
model. They are over fifty in number, and
comprise sixteen full-page drawings in wash,
and about forty sketches, large and small, in
pen-and-ink.
These drawings will be exhibited at the
time of publication of the book.
122
A new book is announced by Mrs.

Andrew Dean , the author of " The Grass-
hoppers ." Mrs. Dean is one of the few suc-
cessful satirists among English authors .
Her principal theme is the unhappiness
caused by the extravagance of foolish
women . We might have expected this
from a man , but hardly from a woman .
Her new heroine is not the usual " woman
with a past " of fin de siècle novelists , but
"A Woman with a Future ."
****
Mr. T. Fisher Unwin is nothing if not an

original publisher. He has just issued a
little book, called " Good Reading about
Many Books, mostly by their Authors. " It
is practically an announcement list of his
Christmas publications. It is tastefully
bound in paper, with title in two colors, and
contains 290 pages, with a number of illus-
trations . Mr. Unwin in his preface says
that what impressed him, in reading the
MSS. , " was the fact that such literary food
was obtained from such distant places," and
66
in these few pages, he adds, we turn from
Suffolk to the South Seas, and from Hamp-
stead to the Himalayas ; indeed Algiers.
Russia, British Guiana, Tyrol , Borneo, and

India are as well represented as Great
Britain. If writers and subjects come from
far-away places, surely readers are to be
found there as well, and so the grand vol-
ume of English literature rolls on , and ever
increases."
****
M. H. Hervey, the author of " Dead

Man's Court," has written a new novel,
called " Dartmoor," which will be published
shortly.
Mr. Hervey's novels are popular, both
here and in England. His style is simple,
but he always has a good story to tell, and
his descriptions of metropolitan life are
excellent.
****
Henry B. Fuller, the author of " With

the Procession," " The Cliff Dwellers," etc. ,
says he finds himself with two distinct
sets of readers : those who admire " The
Chevalier," and those who praise his later
society stories. It looks as if he were desir-
ous of making a third set with his " Plays
for Marionettes," one of which was recently
published in The Chap Book. It is utterly
unlike either of his previous successes.
A young American writer of great promise,

although his books have only been moder-
ately popular as yet, is Clinton Ross- the
author of " Countess Bettina." He is a
graduate of Yale of about ten years' stand-
ing, and has devoted himself to literature
for only two years. Previously to that he
spent most of his time traveling.
****
Romance, which has just been changed
into a five-cent magazine, has had a varied
history. It was started at twenty-five cents,
then its price was changed to ten cents, then
to fifteen cents, and finally now at five cents.
For four or five years it was very successful
at twenty-five cents, until the present era of
cheap magazines. The company which owns
it possesses ample capital, so that the experi-
ment will have a fair trial.
****
Louis Becke, the author of " By Reef and
Palm ," was clearing shrubs in Australia, at
three pounds per acre, when he began to
write his stories about life in the South Seas.
He received considerable encouragement
from the fact that the newspapers bought
them readily, but did not give up his work
until he received a letter from Lord Pem-
broke, exhibiting a kindly interest in his

literary work.
He says he is tempted once in a while to
go back to his old vocation as a trader again,
as he is sometimes inclined to think with his
little daughter that " living in Samoa, and
traveling about in the canoe, is better than
sitting up late and writing books. "
****
No book has been more talked about and
criticised in recent years than " Jude, the
Obscure. " A leading New York bookseller,
however, reports that this does not seem
thus far to have increased its sale.
****
The department stores bought many
thousands of copies of " The Bonnie Brier
Bush " in its cheap edition , and sold them
below cost, at nine cents. The cheap book,
however, did not materially affect the sale
of the better edition.
One disgusted bookseller, who had suf-
fered from this competition, bought a lot
of cheap books and filled a wheelbarrow
with them, which he put in his window.
On top of these he placed a shovel, and
then he advertised : " Books at so much a
shovel ! "
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New and Popular Fiction .
BIJOU SERIES .
Bobemia Invaded.
A Collection of Stories of New York life by JAMES L.
"
FORD, author of " The Literary Shop."
Mr. Ford is one of the most brilliant satirists in this country, and
there is no one in New York who has a more thorough knowledge of
metropolitan life of every kind.
A White Baby. By JAMES Welsh.

A story of great strength and religious feeling, laid among the
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The Red Spell. By FRANCIS GRIBBLE.

A story of the French Commune.
A Bubble.
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Chiffon's Marriage . By Gvp.

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The Phantom Staircase.

MAX PEMBERTON.
The Two Pages. STANLEY J. WEYMAN.
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*
THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE .*
Being certain pages from the life and strange adven-

tures of Sir Nicolas Steele, Bart., as related by his valet,
Hildebrand Bigg.
By Max Pemberton.
Author of " The Impregnable City," etc.
CHAPTER I.
MICHEL GREY was missing. All the

police in Paris could not have told us
more. The man had vanished like a
phantom, leaving no word, no message,

no letter. The city had taken him from
our sight. Whether he were alive or
dead, in France or out of France, a
willing absconder or the victim of the
assassin, neither friend nor enemy could
tell .He had gone like the night, and

had left us to face the problem as we
might.
THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE.
That was a problem for us, and that

we could not begin and end with his
going, I never had a doubt. He had
been seen about with Sir Nicolas for
the best part of a month ; my master's

game with his sister, Dora Grey, was
known to all the town about ; there
wasn't a servant in the hotel that
didn't understand where the hate
between the two men came from.
And, to cap all , the man went away at
the height of it, and we were left with
the girl, and with all the talk that fol-
lowed his disappearance.
Until this moment I had looked
upon the whole episode as a hand-
some turn of fortune . There were
many weeks after the strange hoax

of the golden egg when my master
never put his nose outside the Hôtel
de Lille. In all the years I've known
him I can never remember such an
upset as that business was, both to
his health and to his energy. He
seemed just like one stupefied, with

THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE. 3
no taste for work and no taste for play.

The little money that he possessed
dribbled away, pound by pound , until I
had to find what was wanted even for
his daily living. He no longer earned

anything at the billiard-table ; he scarce
read the newspapers. There were days
when he never got up from his bed ;
days when he did not open his lips to
man or woman. And I do believe that
he was never so low, or in such a queer
way, as upon the evening that brought
him face to face with Dora Grey, and
gave a turn to his life which he was
to feel for many years.
She came to the hotel quite sudden-

an auburn-haired , blue-eyed little thing
with the fairest skin woman ever had,
and a way with her which was wonder-
ful to see. The name down in the
visitor's book was " Dora Grey of
Boston," and just above it I saw writ-

ten "Michel Grey, artist . " But I
didn't mark the man until the follow-
ing morning, though Sir Nicolas, who

:
4 THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE.
had gone down into the garden that

night, the first time for many weeks,
was as full of the pair of them as he
could be.
66
he, "there's an
Hildebrand," says he,
American couple below which is worth

the knowing. She's an artist from
Boston, and she's come to the schools.
It's the Greys, the railway people, they
are ; and rolling in the money. Did
ye hear a fair-haired girl laughing at
the top of her voice in the garden ?
Well, that's the one I mean. Faith,
it's speaking manners these Americans
have for sure . She'd told me her his-
tory before we'd done the soup. "

" Is she staying long, sir ? " I asked.
" Three months certain, and likely
longer. She's come here to be near

the painting. That was her brother
that sat opposite Jack Ames to-night.
A white-faced man, with a liver, I'll
wager. I'll know him better this time
""
to-morrow.
It was extraordinary, I must say, to

see how a little thing like this drew

him out of himself. While he'd gone
down to dinner telling me that I

should find his body in the morgue
before the month was out, he came up
to bed all cheerful like a boy, and next
morning he took an hour to dress him-
self. I saw him sitting down with the
Americans to déjeuner, and after
dinner he was three hours with the
brother over at the billiard room at the
Café Rouge. Then I knew that the

business had begun , and that luck had
lifted us out of the groove again.
" They're a queer couple altogether,
Hildebrand," says Sir Nicolas, when I
took him his coffee next morning ;
"bedad ! the man puzzles me. He's
as mean of the money as a Scotchman
.
out of Montrose. There was three
hours we were playing last night and

not a sovereign changed hands."
" You won't pay many bills out of
that , sir, " says I.
' And don't I know it ? Isn't it the
girl I'm thinking of ? They're the

railway people I'd be telling you— the
Greys of Boston . That was a lucky
day which sent them to the Hôtel de
Lille ; and for three months, too .
You can do much with a woman in
three months, Hildebrand."
' That you can , sir, if she's willing."
Oh, she'll be willing enough by
and by. There's no sugar for an
American tongue like a title to roll
over it. I was the man of the party
before I'd known her an hour. She's
just the sweetest bit of a brogue you

ever heard, and her father's worth five
million dollars . Get me my light
frock coat, will you now? I'm to drive
to St. Cloud this very morning. "
Well, he went off with her sure
enough, the pair of them dressed up

until you might have picked them out
of a thousand . When he was gone,
and the place was put a bit straight, I

strolled over to the Café Rouge to get
my lunch and read the English papers.
Paris was beginning to be full again

then, for we were almost through the
autumn, and the gardens were cold at
nights. But you could find the folks
you wanted any time from midday
until four, and no sooner was I in the
place than I saw Michel Grey, the
brother of the little American woman
Sir Nicolas had just driven to St.

Cloud. He was sitting at a table,
and there was a bottle of hock before
him .
" Halloa, my man ! " cried he, as I

passed him, and he didn't speak a bit
like an American. "I'd like half a dozen
words with you, if you don't mind . "
"With the greatest pleasure in life ,
sir," I replied, thinking, at the same
time, what a peculiar-looking gentle-
man he was.
" Is it long since you left Dublin ? "

asks he, quite calm like, and pretend-
ing to see nothing of the start I gave.
"Would that be any business of
yours ? " I asked , sharp and short, and
looking at him in a way he couldn't

mistake.
" Certainly it would be, " says he ; " a

cousin of mine knew a Sir Nicolas
Steele in Dublin three years ago , and I
99
was wondering if it was the same . '
" Then you should have asked my
guvnor," says I, while my heart began
to jump so that I could hardly hold my
hand still.
66
' Oh, no offense, " cries he, and with
that he slipped a five-franc piece into
my hand.
" You've been in Paris long ? " he asks.

" A month or more, " says I , thinking
where I could have him.
" Are you going back to England

soon ? "
"We are going back at the end of

November. Sir Nicolas has engage-
ments in London that month ."
' Oh, then you are going back ? ”

66
Why, what would we be doing all
the winter here in Paris ? "
He seemed to think a while over
this, taking a drink of the hock and

rolling his bleary eyes as though he
was looking for someone in the
garden. Presently he said :

" Do you like the situation you're
in ?"
66
Oh," said I , " it's much the same
as other situations. Here to-day and
gone to-morrow. "
" Then you travel a good deal ? ”

" That's so - but travel or no travel ,
it's all the same to me."
" Your master seems a pleasant sort

of gentleman ? "
" I should call him that. "
" He's a baronet or something, isn't

he ? "
" Exactly : he's Sir Nicolas Steele of
Castle Rath, County Kerry."
" A generous man , I should say ? "
I looked at him straight, for I'd read
him up by this time.
" It's a cold morning for talking in
the open air, sir," says I , and with that
I turned on my heel and left him.
ΙΟ THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE.
Now, though I had taken it coolly

.
enough, a duller head than mine could
have seen through the man's talk.
"What's in the wind is this, " said I
to myself, when I got back to the hotel ;

" you've heard some gossip, my fine
gentleman, and you want to get to the
bottom of it. If it's true that a cousin
of yours knew Sir Nicolas Steele in
Dublin three years ago, then you'll
write to him, and what you'll learn won't
keep your sister at the Hôtel de Lille.
Maybe that cousin is in Europe ; more
probably he's in America, which gives
us a month. Anyway, it's you that
we've got to play, and the sooner we

begin the better."
This was my thought, and yet, simple
as it seemed, there was something hap-
pened later in the day which gave a
new turn altogether to it. I'd been
bothering my head with the matter all

afternoon, making nothing new of it
outside the fact that the danger signal
had been rung, so to speak, when what
THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE. II
should happen but that, just before

seven o'clock, I met the man again face
to face in the corridor of the hotel, and
the sight of him fairly took my breath
away. I shouldn't have called him a
healthy person at any time , but now

his eyes were sunken away something
dreadful to see-while his cheeks were
hollow like the cheeks of one just got
up from a fever bed. White as his
face had been in the morning, the color

of it was like a bit of plaster of Paris
in the afternoon . And what was more
than this was the way he walked , feel-

ing his road with his hands, like a blind
man, and staring before him as though
he was frightened that every step he
took might land him on nothing.
Never have I seen the muscles of a
man's mouth twitch so much, or a
man's finger's look so like claws. If he
had been stark raving mad, he could

not have given me a greater shock-
and I stood there before him feeling
like a child that has seen something
horrible on the stairs and does not
know whether to go forward or to go

back.
There was a minute when , seeing
him clutch hold of the banister and fix
his dreadful eyes on me , I thought he
was going to strike me. He half raised
his right arm , but let it drop quickly
again and began to mumble something
that I could not hear. His speech was
thick like that of a drunken man, and
yet I could have sworn that drink was

not the matter with him. Quite other-
wise he appeared to be in great pain,
and when he got his words out at last,
they came with gasps like the words of
a man suffering.
'Where's your shoddy baronet ?" he
asked.
"What's that ? " said I.
"Your Nicolas Steele , card-sharper
and thief ?" he went on , and this took
me more aback than if he'd hit me.
" Look here," said I , " you're a bold

man, but if you don't want to be horse-
whipped out of this hotel, don't say

that twice !"
"Then you mean to say that he

isn't ?"
"A hundred times. A more honor-
able gentleman doesn't breathe in Paris,

and if it wasn't for the state you were
in, young man, I'd let you know it, too . "
This silenced him a bit. He stood
rocking on his heels for a minute or

more, and then, muttering something
between his teeth which I could not
make out, he continued his march up
the stairs. A quarter of an hour later,
Sir Nicolas himself drove up with the
young American , and he hadn't been
in the hotel two minutes before I'd
told him what had passed and what I'd
seen. Strange to say, he took it as
calm as a man hearing of the weather.

" The fellow's a lunatic ; that's what
he is," he cried, while he began to dress

for the opera. " She's told me his his-
tory coming home. He's a drug drinker,
and what he remembers to -day, he'll
know nothing of to-morrow or, per-

haps , for a month or more. Ye needn't
mind him no more than a toy-pistol.
I have her word for it, and that's good
enough for me. "
" Then his cousin wasn't in Dublin
three years ago ? " asked I.
" Indeed and he was , and that's the
humor of it. He left before my affair,
d'ye see, and if they write him, it's a
pretty tale of me he'll be telling. Be-
dad ! I couldn't have wished it better
if me own hands had the planning
of it."
" I am glad to hear that, sir," said I ;

" so long as the young lady doesn't
listen ."
" Listen- not she . It's easy for the
ears to be shut when the heart is
open. Sure, won't I be marrying

her within the month ? She's
She's an
American, you must remember, and

tied to nobody's apron strings. Oh, it
was a famous day that kept us at the
Hôtel de Lille."
CHAPTER II.
He said this quite unconcerned , and

not a bit ready to argue the point out
with me. .
It was all very well for him
to glide over it in that easy way, but
what I wanted to know was : where
had Michel Grey first heard talk about

us ? That the gossip was new to him
was evident from the fact that he
played billiards with my master the

very first night he came. to Paris.
What chatter he had heard was heard
between supper that evening and break-
fast two days after. And this was what
troubled me, even in the face of Sir
Nicolas' tale about him taking drugs
and forgetting. " There's danger mov-
ing," I thought, " and if you're mar-
ried within the month, Nicky, I'm a
Chinaman. "
This is how the thing looked to me
then, and for days after. While, on
the one hand, Michel Grey talked no
more, either to me or to Sir Nicolas,
16 THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE
of his suspicions, on the other hand I

could see that he would have no truck
with us, and was doing his best to

make his sister think as he did. That
he did not succeed in this is to be set
down to many things, but above all
to the fact that for days together he
would hang about the hotel like a man
without a mind ; and was, as all the
world could see, tottering fast to his
grave. What drug he drank, or where
he learned the habit, no man could say,
but a more pitiable spectacle than he
made, looking for all the world like a
blind thing come out of a coffin , I
hope never to see. Luckily for us,
there was no affection lost between
him and Miss Dora. Talk as he
might, the day was rare when she did
.
not plan some excursion with my
master. They spent hours together
out at Fontainebleau or Versailles-
were half their leisure time at the pic-

ture galleries , the other half at the
cafés and theaters. I saw them walk-
ing arm and arm in the gardens ; I

saw him kiss her when she went to her
painting in the morning ; I saw him

kiss her when she came home again to
déjeuner; and I began to think that
after all he was right and I was wrong.
Then, all of a sudden, the trouble
came, and we woke up from our dream
like men roused by artillery fire.
Michel Grey had disappeared ! For
the first time since we had been at the
hotel , he had exchanged words with my

master over the dinner table. It did
not come to blows, but the hands of
the people around alone kept the two

men apart, and Sir Nicolas was heard
by twenty folks to say that he'd beat
the life out of the American with his
hunting crop. That night and the
next Michel Grey did not sleep in his
bed at the Hôtel de Lille . At ten
o'clock two mornings later his sister

Dora was knocking at my master's
door, wanting to know what he had
done with him.
I can see her now, with her pretty

hair streaming down her back and her
face that flushed that she might have
been rubbing her cheeks with a glove.
Many women would have thought
nothing of a man going off like that,
but the quarrel stuck in her head, I
suppose, and she was as scared as a
rabbit. When Sir Nicolas came out
to her, she was no longer gentle with
him as she had been before this, but
stamped her foot and spoke angry,
with quick, biting words.
"" Well," she cried, " where is he ?
You know, of course ? "

"As God is my witness, I know
nothing," said he.
" But you were with him last-you
were the last to speak to him. "
" Indeed , and I was ; and when he'd
done with me, he went straight to his
bedroom. Dora, it's not lies that I'd
tell you at such a time."
"Then where is he, what has hap-
pened to him, what shall I tell my
father ? Oh, they love him at home,

indeed they do ! "
She began to cry at this, and my
master took her hand.
" You poor little thing," said he,

drawing her head down upon his
shoulder. "Would I harm him, what-
ever he was— and your brother, too ?

Don't ye see, child, that he's just gone
off in a bit of huff, and will be back
before your tears are dry. Ye'll be
the first to laugh when he walks in

here."
" He is not the man to do that," said
she, though she was no longer angry ;
"I am sure of it. I dreamed of him
all night. He is dead, Nicolas."
Now, what should Sir Nicolas do
when she said this but give her a great
kiss, and burst out laughing.
" Dead ! " said he, "then I'm think-
ing we should get ready for the waking,
and ask him to crack the first bottle.
Bedad ! he's as dead as I am, little
woman , and don't you think any such
thing. Whatever put that into your

head ? "
" I could not tell you," says she.
"We do not think these things - we
know them."
At this he set off laughing again,
and did his best to cheer her up-
though it was poor work he made of it
at the best. By and by, when he had
seen a nice little breakfast sent up to
her rooms, he came to me, and I knew
then that he took it worse than I had
thought he would.
"Well," says he, "the fool's gone
right enough. There's no word or
sign yet. I'll begin to think by and by
that harm's come to him."
" In that case, sir, " said I , " it's a
pity that what was said two nights ago
couldn't wait."
66
How do you mean ? " he asked .
66
Why-it's no good disguising it—
you threatened to murder him. "
" Good God ! Would they think
that ?"
" There's some that might."

He stood stock still when I had said
.
this, and his face was very white.
" It's luck to make one gnash the
teeth," said he presently. " I'd have
married her within the week."
" There's no reason why you
shouldn't now, sir, " said I ; " always
supposing that it's well with him. But
there are things to do. "

" You think so ."
Certainly ; and if it was me that
was concerned I'd be up at the police
station before the clock struck again. "
" Do you believe they would find
him ? "
"They might or they might not ;

but it would be cover for you. "
" I'll do that ," said he shortly. " Is
there anything else ? "
" One thing," said I. " This young
fellow has a father in America. If
three days pass and we hear nothing

of him, send a cable out to Boston,
and advise that a reward be offered-
a big one, say ten thousand dollars.

Meanwhile, offer a reward of two thou-
sand francs yourself. "
""'But I'd have to pay.
What's the
sense in that ? "
" Sir," said I, " if Mr. Grey of Bos-
ton will offer a reward of ten thousand
dollars for the recovery of his son,
there is one man who will find him. ”
"And who is that, pray ?"
' Myself. "
He looked at me with blank amaze-
ment. Then he said, quite simply :
"Ye're a clever man. I'd be sorry
for the day when we parted."
" But we must part, sir, " said I.

'Tis no time for nonsense, sure, "
"
said he.
" And it's no nonsense I mean, sir.
If I'm to find this man and to claim
this reward, the work must be done
away from here."
"Where would it be done, then ? "
" From the house in the Rue Dupin,
where we lived two years ago. "
He thought over it a little while,

and then he said :
66
It's the devil of a head ye've got.
How did you come to think of it ? "
" Common sense taught me," said I.
" There's many a worse friend, sir. "
A week after this task I left the

Hôtel de Lille and took a lodging in
a little house in the Rue Dupin . It
was the first time in my life that ever
I'd set to work to hunt a man, and I
knew at the beginning of it that I had

a stiff job before me. Notwithstand-
ing the light way we had taken Michel
Grey's disappearance, seven days had
passed and no living soul had heard a
word of him . He had gone like a light
in a wind, and had left neither letter
nor message . While some were bold
enough to say that Nicolas Steele
could have told the tale, the many were
deceived by the pains my master took

to trace the missing man. None the
less, it was not hidden from me that
the police were watching him, and that

any minute he might be face to face
with the greatest peril of his life.
My object in moving from the hotel
to the Rue Dupin was a simple one.
Jonathan Grey, the father of the miss-
ing man, had walked into the trap we
had set for him like a child into a
sweetstuff-shop. His answer to his

daughter's cable was immediate.
" Offer the reward," he said, and we
had offered it. That is to say, we had
printed a thousand bills and had
burned them.
" Once get those bills about Paris,"

said I to Sir Nicolas, " and your man's
here in a couple of hours . That don't
suit us when ten thousand dollars are
at stake - not by a long way. If
Michel Grey is to be found at all , I'm

going to find him , and to bank half the
reward in my name . The other half is
yours by every right ."
" I've nothing to say against that,"
exclaimed he ; "it's what I was think-
ing of myself. But ye don't tell me

.
who's to claim the money, and all the
world knowing that you're my servant.
Ye don't forget that ye're dealing with
Yankees ? "
"I forget nothing, sir," said I , " and
that's what takes me to the Rue Dupin.
The man who will claim the reward is
my friend, Jim Pascoe——”
"What ! Jim Pascoe, the tout ? "
"No other. If there's anything in
Paris that's new to him I should be
glad to hear of it. He'll do the job
for a hundred pounds , and gladly. "
"Ye don't fear to trust him ? "
" Fear," I replied, " why, I know

enough about Jim Pascoe to buy a
dozen men ."
This was a true word, and half an
hour after it was spoken I was
seated with Jim in the little bit of a
cabin in the Rue Dupin, where I told
him the tale. Jim was a man who got
his living the best way he could, but
chiefly at Autueil and Longchamps ,
and in being cicerone to the English

mugs who want to " do " Paris. If
anyone could say what had become of
Michel Grey he was the man ; and I'd
hardly got the words out of my lips
when he jumped down my throat with
his theory.
"6
Bigg," says he, " your man's in a
drug den and what's more, he's in a
private drug den. It's a wonder his
people haven't had any note for
money before this— that is, if Grey

hasn't a banking account of his own
in Paris,"
" I don't follow you there, " says I.
""
What do you mean by a private
drug den ? "
" Why, a place where they dose ' em
and bleed ' em at the same time. Such
shops are cheap this way. They trap

a man with cash, and make it pleasant
for him so long as his money lasts ,
then they knock him on the head, or
leave him to sleep it off in the gutter.
You couldn't have named a worse job.
I doubt that you'll ever set eyes on

Grey again, if you live
live to
to be a
hundred."
This was a facer. I'd thought all
along that the American was laid by
the heels in some opium shop, but that
we should have any difficulty in getting
him out was a fact that never entered
my head.
CHAPTER III.
" THEN you don't take the thing on,

Jim ?" said I.
" Oh, I'm not saying that, " cried he ;
"but it's worth more than a hundred.
I'm like to have my head cracked be-

fore I'm out of it. "
" I'll make it two hundred and fifty, "
said I, " and not a penny more. "
" You're on, " says he. " And now
for a word about the chap's duds.
What was he wearing when last you
saw him ?"
I gave him a full account of Michel

Grey and his clothes , and he went away.
Twenty-four hours after I got a line

from him :
"Come up to the Rue de la Loire.

I have found your man. "
You may imagine that I didn't lose
much time in doing as he asked me.
While I couldn't really believe that the
thing was to end in the simple way his
letter made out, none the less the fact
that we stood a good chance now of
putting our hands on the ten thousand
dollars came home to me.
“ Bigg," said I , " you'll be set up for

a twelvemonth, and Sir Nicholas will
be off to New York to marry a Yankee
-that is, if he doesn't close on that
pretty bit of goods up at the Hôtel de
Lille. Was there ever such a town ! "
I found Jim sitting on a dirty bed

in a dirty little house near the boule-
vard end of the street he had named.
He didn't look at all hopeful as
I'd expected he would, and the cigar
that he held in his hand had gone
out.
Well, " says he, " you got my

letter ? "
"Why should I be here if I hadn't ? "
says I.
" Ah, true," he went on : " and I may
as well tell you at once -I believe your
man's at the Maison d'Or, up in Mont-
martre."
" How did you find that out ? " I

asked.
"I traced him by his stick, " said he ;
" an orange-wood cane, with a globe of
silver and a little map of the world on
top of it. Is that it ? ”
"The same ! " cried I.
" And he wore a hat of black felt,
large beyond usual ? "
66
He did that."
"Then he's at the Maison d'Or ;
and how we're to get him out, God
knows."
"Why-what's the difficulty ? "

" I don't like the house , " says he,
shifting his eyes curiously.

" But what's the matter with it ?"
" Oh , there's nothing the matter with

it, except that a good many who go in
never come out again. I've no fancy
for that myself. "
" Jim, " says I , " you haven't got the

heart of a rabbit. What nonsense
you're talking. Take me up to the

shop, and let me have a look at it. "
" I was going to suggest that, ” says
he. " It'll be dark in an hour, and no
one to tread on our heels. I know the
woman who keeps the cabaret at the
back of the place, and it was from
the top of a shed in her garden
that I looked down into the lower
rooms. "
Why not knock at the door at once

and have done with it ? " says I.
" It would be worth more than your
life or mine to do that, " cried he ; " all
the neighborhood knows it. There's
not a man that would venture in. "
" Then what makes you think that

this Grey is there ? "
" He was two days at an opium den
in the Rue d'Oran, which is not a

stone's throw off, and was last seen at
the cabaret I speak of. He was then
with the man who runs the Maison
d'Or. Folks knew him from my de-
scription of his hat and stick. I
guessed at once that I should hear of
him in a drug shop . That's what took
me to the Rue d'Oran. "
"You're friends with the woman
who runs this beer-shop, did you say ?"
"The best possible , though I
wouldn't walk with her in the Bois-
""
not for choice, leastwise .'
66
Then let's get up there at once.
If Grey is in the shop, the closer the
eye we keep on it the better."
He assented to this, and we went off
together in a closed cab. It was then
almost full dusk, and threatening for a
wet night. In fact we hadn't got to the
top of the Rue du Faubourg when the
rain began to pelt down in earnest,
the people scuttling into the cafés, and
the water flooding the gutters. When
at last our rickety old cab began to

lumber up the slopes to Montmartre ,
the lamps in the streets were dancing
before a stiff west wind , and the sky
above us was black as ink. Where
we'd got to I couldn't for the life of

me tell ; but by and by Jim stopped
the driver before a third-rate drinking
den, and we stepped out in a dirty
street, where the mud was almost up
to our ankles.
This is the place, " said he ; while

it rained so fast that the water began
to run off his hat. "Jam your tile
over your eyes, and follow me. You
will want a twenty-franc piece to shut

the old woman's mouth ; after that, it's
easy. "
He led the way into a bit of a bar
where four or five shabby customers.
were drinking beer and talking to
women who matched them down to the
ankles. But we weren't there more
than a moment, for after a word in
French lingo to the chap who served

the drink, we passed on to a small

parlor which overlooked a bit of a yard.
Here a squat little woman, who didn't
appear to have washed her face for a
fortnight, was in talk with a girl who

had a guitar in her hand-a poor, be-
spangled, squalid-looking wretch, who
made her living, I don't doubt, by
capering about before the scum in the
bar. They left off when we came in,
and then Jim fell to parleying with the
woman, and a fine noise they made
of it.
" She thinks you're a nark, " said he

to me in the middle of it ; " give us the
twenty-franc piece, and see if that will
cool her."
I handed him over the money and
they got to work again. This time the

woman took it different, and when I'd
whispered to him to promise her
twenty francs more when we were
through , she left off talking of a sud

den, and led us down some dark stairs
to a stinking kitchen where I wouldn't
have housed a dog. Two minutes
after, we were out in the back yard,

and she had left us.
" Now," said Jim, " we're the better

for wanting her, though she's a won-
derful woman when you take her right.
The fact is, she's just as crazy as the
others about the house yonder, and is
half afraid of having anything to do
with us. But she's lent me the steps,
and that's all I care a crack about. "
It was raining cats and dogs now,

and bitter cold, but we were both ex-
cited by what we'd come to do , and
didn't feel it more than the touch of
a feather. For my part, I'd thought
little of the danger up to that time , but

when I stood out in that dark yard and
looked up to the black shade of a win-
dowless and prison-like house , I must
say that I got a shiver through me.
" Jim," said I , " two's not many for
a job like this. Did you bring your
pistol ?"
" I did so , " he whispered ; " you don't
find me going far without it in Paris.

Will you go first, or shall I ? ”
" You go," said I , " since you know
the way.
I'm on your heels- though
what you're to see through that wall
I'd like to learn."
" There's a window , on the lower
story," cried he, " but keep your mouth
shut, and tread light.”
Saying this, he went up the steps,
and I followed him. I have made it
clear, I think, that the carbaret, or
beer-shop, or whatever you like to call
it, stood back to back with the house
we'd come to inquire about . There
was only a yard and a high wall be-
tween them , but at the end of this
yard, and jammed up against the wall,

was a shed for lumber, so built that
when you set the steps on its roof

you could put your fingers on the top
of the bricks above and haul yourself
up. It didn't take Jim and I a minute
.
to do this, and once astride the wall, we
had our first view of the Maison d'Or.
THE PHANT
OM CASE
36 STAIR .
I must say, and I always have said,

that there was something uncanny in
the very look of that house. Its
heavy, blackened shape seemed to rise

up like the shape of a dead-house or
a prison. Many of its lower windows
were heavily barred with iron bars.
The paved yard around it was reeking
with filth and rubbish. No sound, no
light came out of it. It was just a great

mass of brickwork looming up in the
darkness, and I could understand easily
enough how all the wild tales about it
had come to be told. Sitting there
astride on the wall, and peering at such

casements as faced the back of the
cabaret, I should not have been a bit
surprised if I'd have seen some inhu-
man thing stalking the yard below me.
My heart was in my mouth- my nerves
twitched like a woman's. And Jim was
not a whit better.
"Do you make anything of it ? " he
whispered , after we'd been on the wall

a minute or two.
" The devil a bit, " said I.

" It aint exactly a palace of varieties,
is it ?" he continued a bit later. " But
Grey's in there right enough. It was

through that mite of a window on your
left that I got a sight of the place last
night. There was a light there then .
I don't fancy we'll do much to- night."
" Nor me, neither, " said I , for I was
right down scared, and that's the fact
of it.
" Shall we try again to - morrow
night ? " says he, and I could see he
was in a hurry to be off.
"We might as well, for all the good
we're doing," said I , and with that I
turned to put my foot on the steps
again. A moment later I saw a thing
which fairly took my breath away.
The window which was dark had
suddenly become light . A man with a

lamp in his hand passed it, and , follow-
ing him with quick steps was no other
than my master, Nicolas Steele.
M E
NTO RCAS
38 THE PHA STAI .
CHAPTER IV.
" GOOD God ! " said I , half aloud , in

spite of myself, " what are you doing
in there ? " and then , as I'm a man , I
began to tremble. But Jim had al-
ready turned on me.
66
' Bigg," cried he, " you're playing
me double ! What's Nicolas Steele
doing in there ? "

" Ask me another," said I ; " it's a
""
thing I can't tell you .'
" But I can," said he, and he was
angry too ; " he's gone to get Grey

out and claim the money ! "
" Jim, shut your mouth , " said I , " and
don't make him out the biggest fool
alive."
" You're playing me false ! " cried he,

raising his voice sillily.
" No such thing," said I ; " and look
here, I'll prove it. I'm going in after
him."
" You are ? " exclaimed he, " then
I'll say good-evening ' to you ."

"Jim," said I , " don't you see it may

be a matter of life or death with him ?
Help me in this and I'll give you an-

other hundred ."
66
' Help you- how can I help you ? "
" I'll tell you in a word. Run into
the beer-shop there and bring all the

men you can find to these leads.
Promise them twenty francs apiece to
shout when I call to them. They'll do
it quick enough if you say the police
are with us on the other side. "
" But you , yourself ? "

'I'm going to throw these steps
across the gap there, and force that win-
dow. After that, I'm trusting to bluff. "
" You take your life in your hands, "
said he.
" Don't you trouble about that. You

get the men. Quick's the word for this
job. "
He didn't wait for any more, but
tumbled down to the shed again , and
when I'd waited five minutes, and had
seen him come out with half a dozen
loafers at his tails, I dragged the steps

up to the wall, and then used them to
bridge the gap which lay between the
little window and myself. Luckily, the
sill was old and broad, and though the
window itself was not more than three
feet square, it was unbarred . At any
other time , I might have been a bit

giddy clambering across that gap, for
there was a drop of near twenty feet
below me, but there were too many
.
things running in my head to let me
think of that, and half a minute hadn't
gone before I'd forced the window with
my pocket-knife and dropped into a
narrow passage on the second floor of
the Maison d'Or.
Ten seconds, perhaps , I stood to as-

sure myself that I was all right. Then
I drew my revolver and, putting it to
the full cock, I began to look about
me. It was plain in a minute that I
was in a passage with doors opening
down one side of it. The glimmer of
a light showed at the far end ; but
elsewhere it was all dark, and what was

more, strangely silent. The air itself
was heavy, like the air of a bakehouse.
I had to gasp for my breath ; there
was a choking sensation in my throat
which nearly made me faint. Stinking
fumes, like the fumes of stale opium,
filled all the corridors and seemed to
exude from the rooms. I staggered
under the power of them, and had to

bite my lips to prevent myself coughing.
So far as furniture went, there was
little that I could see in the passage.
A heavy carpet was soft to the feet, and

thick curtains, made of some soft stuff,
were hung over the openings to the
doors. Yet what appeared more curi-
ous than anything was the queer silence
in the place. While I stood there ,
half-choking for my breath, and half-
hidden behind one of the thickest of
the curtains, I didn't hear so much as
the creak of a door or the fall of a foot.
The house might have been a dead-

house with specters for tenants.
M SE
42 THE PHANTO STAIRCA .
You may ask me, fairly enough, what

I had meant to do when I crossed the
gap and forced my way into this queer
place. I can only answer that I know
no more than the dead. What I did
was done on impulse . It was only

when I stood in the passage and heard
my heart beating like a machine that I
began to think what a fool I had made
of myself. And I must have stood
there five minutes, afraid to go on,
afraid to go back, when all of a sudden

someone else decided for me. A door
opened not two yards away, and out

walked Sir Nicolas Steele and a little
Frenchman. They were talking to-
gether angrily ; and they went straight

down the passage and turned the corner
where the light was.
Though the door of the room from

which they had come had only been
open for a moment, I had seen a sight
strange enough to have upset a stronger
man than me. In a great Eastern -like
room, all lit up with queer-colored lan-

terns, and having a fountain of water

splashing in the middle of it, some
twenty men were lying on little beds.
Most of them looked to me to be dead
with sleep, but one was raving , with his

face buried in his pillow, while another
seemed to be crawling on his hands and
knees to the water which bubbled under
the dome. The door was only open a
second, as I say, but the view behind it
gave me a shiver, and the shiver was
still on me when , treading like a cat, I

followed my master down the passage
and came within a yard of him at the

corner of it.
I was now near by the light, but cur-

tains, hung crosswise in the passage,
hid me well enough. I could see from
my place that Sir Nicolas was arguing
with the Frenchman at the top of a
little flight of iron stairs. When they

had talked for about a minute the
Frenchee pointed to a door at the

bottom of the flight, and my master
made a step downward as though to
reach the door. But his foot was

hardly on the stairs when something
happened which sent me as stiff as a
corpse, and drew from me a cry which
might have come from a madman.
The stairs which I had seen a minute
before, I saw no longer. They had

swung away under my master's touch ,
and with another cry joined to mine,
he went headlong down to a black
hole below.
What happened in the next few

minutes I can hardly tell . I remem-
ber, perfectly, that the .

Frenchman
stood for a minute glaring at me,
and hissing words between his teeth.
Then he pressed a knob on the railings
at his side, and the staircase swung
back into its place again.
So astonished was I to see what he
did that I never thought of the danger
to myself ; and before I knew where I
was he had gripped me, and we went
rolling over and over on the floor
together. Strong man as I am, I
don't think that I've ever been so near
to death as I was that night . Now up,

now down, with the cold sweat on my
forehead, and the devil's fingers tear-
ing the flesh out of my neck. I hal-
loaed to Jim to help me , and fought the

Frenchman through. When I had
done with him at last, I was covered
with blood-but it was Jim who pulled
me to my feet, Jim and Michel Grey,
who stood, half dressed and half-
drunk, with two gendarmes , in the
passage.
The noise and din which followed
this business is not to be described by
any man like me . While I stood half-
blinded , and with roaring sounds in my
ears, gendarmes seemed to be filling
all the Maison d'Or. But I had wits
enough about me to think of what
might be, and the first words I spoke
were to Jim.
" Get Grey out," said I, " and take
him in a cab to the Hôtel de Lille.
We'll lose the reward if you don't.
E
TOM RCAS
46 THE PHAN STAI .
Tell him his father's there. I'm after

Sir Nicolas."
" Is he here ?" he asked, as he went
to do what I bid him.
" God knows whether he is alive or
dead," said I , and with that I halloaed
to the gendarmes and showed them
the swinging staircase. Five minutes
after, we were down in a filthy cellar
in the bottom of the house, standing
over the motionless body of my master.
But his groans told us that he lived ,
and when lights were brought we knew
to what he owed his life. He had
fallen on the dead body of another

victim of the Maison d'Or.
Well , that's the story of the phantom
staircase, though there are some things

left you might like to know. How did
Sir Nicolas Steele come to the shop ,
for instance ? Why, it appeared that
after they'd got Grey into the house,
which was one of the largest and one
of the lowest dens in Paris, they'd kept
him drunk with the drug, in the hope

that he'd add money to what they'd
robbed him of. On the day Jim and I
set out for the cabaret, Grey had sent

a messenger down to the Hôtel de
Lille to get some of his traps and

things. Sir Nicolas came across this
messenger and bribed the whole tale
out of him. After that he didn't want
to lose a minute tracing the man , and
he went straight off to Montmartre,
leaving word at the police station of
what he'd done. The police had long
been watching the shop, and when
they heard that an Englishman was
going there, they sent gendarmes after
him- and lucky, too, or this story
would not have been written.
How Sir Nicolas was so foolish as to
stand between us and the chance of a
reward, I only learned when he came

to consciousness, nine daysafter we
took him off the dead man's body in
the cellar.
" And didn't I begin to be afraid of

NTO
M ASE
IRC
48 THE PHA STA .
the whole thing," said he ; " sure, the

police were watching me night and day
as if I was a murderer. Reward or
no reward, I was glad to have done

with it."
And that was the truth, though old

Jonathan Grey, after he'd heard what
the police had to say, paid over every
shilling of the money he'd promised.
What's more, he gave me a hundred
more for myself. But he was out of
Paris while my master lay unconscious
on his bed ; and though Dora Grey
cried enough for three, her studies in
painting closed on the spot.
The Maison d'Or is pulled down
now. The city people took it last year
for a new road they were making. I've
no doubt myself that many a good man
walked down those stairs to his death.
A more cunning trap you couldn't
find. We proved, when we went up
We
some days after the thing happened ,
that the whole flight of steps swung on
a hinge at the top . It was caught at
the bottom by a bit of the landing

which projected , and which a spring
held in its place. And it was a better
weapon for a rogue than any knife or
pistol.
THE TWO PAGES .*
By Stanley J. Weyman.
YES, I have seen changes. When I

first served at court, whither I went in
the year 1579, -seven years after the
St. Bartholomew, the king received
all in his bedchamber , and there every
evening played primero with his inti-
mates, until it was time to retire ;
Rosny and Biron , and the great men
of the day, standing or sitting on chests
round the chamber. If he would be
more private he had his cabinet ; or, if
the matter were of prime importance,
he would take his confidants to an open
space in the garden - such as the white
mulberry grove, encircled by the canal
at Fontainebleau ; where, posting a
Swiss guard, who did not understand
* Copyright, 1895, by Stanley J. Weyman.
50
THE TWO PAGES. 51
French, at the only bridge that gave

access to the place , he could talk with-
out reserve.
In those days the court rode, or if

sick, went in litters. Coaches were
only coming into fashion ; Henry, who

feared nothing else, having so invinci-
ble a distaste for them that he was
wont to turn pale if the coach in which
he traveled swayed more than usual.
Ladies rode sideways on pads, their
feet supported by a little board ; and
side-saddles were rare . At great ban-
quets the fairest and noblest served the
tables. We dined at ten in the country
and eleven in Paris ; instead of at noon,
as is the custom now.
When the king lay alone , his favor-

ite pages took it by turns to sleep at
his feet ; the page on duty using a low
truckle bed that in daytime fitted under
the king's bed, and at night was drawn
out. Not seldom, however, and more
often, if the times were troublous, he
would invite one of his councilors to
52 THE TWO PAGES.
share his couch, and talk the night

through with him ; a course which
in these days might seem undignified.

Frequently he and the queen re-
ceived favorite courtiers before rising ;

particularly on New Year's morning it
was the duty of the Finance Minister
to wait on them, and awaken them
with a present of medals struck for
the purpose .
And I recall many other changes.
But one thing, which some young
sparks with a forwardness neither be-
coming in them nor respectful to me,
have ventured to slyly suggest, even in
my presence-that we who lived in the
old war time were a rougher bred and

a less dainty and chivalrous than the
Buckinghams and Bassompierres of to-
day— I roundly deny. On the con-
trary, I would have these to know that
he who rode in the wars with Henry
of Guise or against him-had for his

example not only the handsomest, but.
the most courtly man of all times ; and
THE TWO PAGES. 53
has nothing to learn from a set of poor

fellows who, unable to acquire the
stately courtesy that becomes a gentle-
man, are fain to air themselves in a
dandified simpering trim of their own.

That such are stouter than the men
of my day, no one dare maintain . I
have seen Crillon, whom veterans
called the brave ; and I have talked
with La Noue of the Iron Arm ; for
the rest, I can tell you of one, and he
a boy fourteen years old , known to me
in my youth, who had it not in him to
fear.
He was page, with me, to the King

of Navarre ; a year my junior, and my
rival. At riding, shooting, and fencing
he was the better ; at pavme and ten-
nis he always won. But naturally,
being the elder, I had the greater

strength, and when the sharp sting of
his wit provoked me, could drub him,
and did so more than once. No ex-
tremity of defeat, however - no, nor

any severity of punishment could wring
54 THE TWO PAGES.
from Antoine a word of submission ;

prostrate, with bleeding face, he was
as ready to fly at my throat as ever.
And more, though I was the senior,
he was the life and soul of the ante-
chamber ; the first in mischief, the last
in retreat ; the first to cry a nickname.
after a burly priest who chanced to
pass us as we lounged at the gates-
and the first to be whipped when it
turned out that the king had a mind to
please Father Cotton.
It followed that from the first I
viewed him with a strange mixture of

rivalry and affection ; ready one mo-
ment to quarrel with him and beat him
.
for a misword, and the next to let him
beat me if it pleased him. At this

time the King of Navarre had his
court sometimes at Montauban , some-
times at Nerac ; and there were
rumors of a war between him and the
King of France ; to be clear, it was

this year, that in the hope of maintain-
ing the peace, the latter's mother, the
THE TWO PAGES. 55
Queen Catherine, came with a glitter-

ing train of ladies to Nerac, and there
were balls and pageants and gay
doings by day and night. But the
Huguenots were not easily moved, and
under this fair mask suspected treach-
ery, and not without reason ; one
night, during a ball, Catherine's friends
seized a strong town, and but for
Henry's readiness- who took horse
that moment and before daylight had
surprised a town of France to set
against it would have gained the
advantage. So in the event Catherine
did little, no one trusting her, and in
the end she returned to Paris ; but for
a time the court gayeties continued,
and there were masques and dances,
and the thought of war was seemingly
abandoned.
Now, in the room which was then
the King's chamber at Montauban, are
two windows at a great height from
the ground, a ravine lying below them.
Between the two is a projecting but-
56 THE TWO PAGES.
tress , and outside the sill of each is a
stone ledge a foot wide which runs

round the buttress. I do not know
who first thought of it, but one day
when the king was absent and we
pages were lounging in the room-
which was against the rules, since we
should have been in the ante-chamber
-someone challenged Antoine to walk
on the ledge round the buttress, going
out by one window and returning by
the other. I have said that the ledge
was but a foot wide, the depth below
infinite. It turned me sick only to
look down and see the hawks hang and

circle in the gulf. Nevertheless , before
any could speak, Antoine was outside
the casement poising himself on the
airy ledge ; a moment, and with his
face turned inward to the wall, his
slight figure outlined against the sky,
he began to edge his way round the
buttress.
I called to him to come back ; I ex-
pected each moment to see him reel
THE TWO PAGES. 57
and fall ; the others, too , stood staring

with pale faces. But he did not heed ;
an instant, and he vanished round the
buttress, and still we stood and no one
moved ; no one moved, until with a
shout he showed himself at the other
window, and sprang down into the
room. His eyes were bright with the
triumph of it ; his hair waved back
from his brow as if the breeze from
the gulf still stirred it. He cried to

me to do the feat in my turn , he
pointed his finger at me, dared me,
and before them all called me " Cow-
ard ! Coward ! "
But I am not ashamed to confess a
weakness I share with many brave
men- I could never face a great
height ; and though I burned with

.
wrath and shame, and raged under his
taunts, though I could have con-
fronted any other form of death—or
thought so ; though I even went so far
as to leap on the seat within the win-
dow and stand- and stand irresolute-
S
58 THE TWO PAGE .
I stopped there. I could not do it.

The victory was with Antoine ; he
whom I had thrashed for some im-
pertinence only the night before, now

held me up to scorn, and drove me
from the room with jeers and laughter.
None of the others had greater
courage ; but I was the eldest and the
biggest, and the iron entered into my

heart. Day after day for a week,
whenever the chamber was empty, I
crept to the window and looked down
and watched the kites hover and drop ,
and plumbed the depth with my eyes ;
but only to turn away. I could not
do it. Resolve as I might at night, in
the morning, on the window ledge , I
was a coward.
One evening, however, when the
king was supping with M. de Roque-
laure, and the chamber was deserted ,
I chanced to go to that window after
nightfall. I stepped on the seat-that
I had done often before ; but this time,
looking down, I found that I no
THE TWO PAGES. 59
longer quailed. The darkness veiled

the ravine ; to my astonishment I felt.
no qualms. Moreover, I had had sup-
per, my heart was high ; and in a mo-
ment it occurred to me that now- now
in the dark I could do it, and regain
my pride.
I did not give myself time to think,
but went straight out to the gallery,
where I found Antoine and two or
three others teasing Mathurine the

fool. My entrance was the signal for
a taunt. "Ho , Miss White Face ! "
Antoine cried, standing out and con-
fronting me. "It is you, is it ?"
"Yes," I answered sharply, meeting
his eyes and speaking in a tone I had
not used for a week. " And if you do
not mend your manners, Master An-

29
toine-
" Go round the buttress ! " he re-
torted with a grimace.
"I will ! " I answered . "I will !
And then -—————_ "
" You dare not !"
60 THE TWO PAGES.
" Come ! Come ! " I said ; " come,

and see ! And when I have done it,
99
my friend-
I did not finish the sentence, but led
the way back to the chamber, assum-
ing a courage which, as a fact, was fast
oozing from me. The cold air that
met me as I approached the open win-

dow sobered me still more ; but An-
toine's jeers and my companions' in-
credulity stung me to the necessary
point, and I stepped on the ledge, and
without giving myself time to think,
turned my face to the wall and began
to edge slowly along it, my heart in
my mouth, my flesh creeping, as I
gradually realized where I was ; every
nerve in my body strung to quivering
point.
Certainly in the daylight I could not
have done it . Even now, when the
depth over which I balanced myself
was hidden by the darkness, and I had
only my fancy to conquer, I trembled,
my knees shook ; a bat skimming by
THE TWO PAGES. 61
my ear almost caused me to fall ; I

was bathed in perspiration . Yet I
turned the corner of the buttress in
safety, and edged my way along its
front, gluing myself to the wall ; and
came at last, breathing hard , to the
second corner and turned it, and saw
with a gasp of relief the lights in the
room . A moment- -a moment more,
and I should be safe.
At that instant I heard something ,
and cast a wary eye backward the way
I had come. I saw a shadowy form at
my elbow, and I guessed that Antoine
was following me. With a shudder I
hastened my steps to avoid him, and I

was already in the angle formed by
the wall and buttress-whence I could
leap down into the room- when he

called me.
" Hist ! " he cried softly. " Stop ,
man ! the king is there ! "

I thought it only too likely, for I
could see none of our comrades at the
window ; and I heard voices. To go
62 THE TWO PAGES.
on, therefore, was to be punished ; and

I paused and crouched down in the
angle. I recognized the king's voice,

and M. de Gourdon's, and St. Martin's ,
the captain of the guard ; I caught even
their words, and in less than a minute
I had surprised a secret- so great a
secret that I trembled almost as much
as I had trembled at the outmost angle

of the buttress , hanging between earth
and sky. For they were planning the
great assault on Cahors ; for the first
time I heard named the walnut grove,
and the three gates, and the bridge,

that fame and France will never forget.
I heard all the night, the hour, the

numbers to be engaged ; and turned
quaking to learn what Antoine thought
of it. Turned , but neither saw nor ad-
dressed him ; for my eye, incautiously
cast down, saw far, far beneath me a
torch and a little group of men, and
turning giddy at the sudden view of the
abyss, I wavered an instant, and then
with a cry of fear chose the less press-
THE TWO PAGES. 63
ing danger, and tumbled forward into

the room .
M. de Rouquelaure had his point at

my throat before I could rise ; and I
had a vision of half a dozen startled
faces glaring at me. Fortunately, how-

ever, M. de Rosny knew me and held
the other's arm. I was plucked up and
set on my feet before the king, who

alone had kept his seat ; and amid a
shower of threats I was bidden to ex-
plain my presence .
"You knave ! I wish I had spitted
you ! " Roquelaure cried, with an oath,
when I had done so . " You heard
all ?"
" Yes, Monsieur. "
They scowled at me between wrath
and chagrin. ' Friend Rosny , you
were a fool," M. de Roquelaure said
grimly.
" I think I was," the other answered.
" But a flogging, a gag, and the black
hole will keep his tongue still until it is
over."
64 THE TWO PAGES.
Henry laughed. " I think we can do

better than that ! "he said, with a
glance of good nature. " Hark you ,
my lad ; you are big enough to fight.

We will trust you , and you shall wear
sword for the first time. But if the
surprise fail we know whom to blame,
and you will have to reckon with M. de
Rosny. "
I fell on my knees and thanked him
with tears ; while Rosny and M. St.
66
Martin remonstrated. Take my word
for it, he will blurt it out ! " said the
one ; and the other, " You had better
deliver him to me, sire."
" No, " Henry said kindly. " I will

trust him. He comes of a good stock ;
if the oak bends, what tree shall we
trust ? "
" The oak bends fast enough, sire,
when it is a sapling, " Rosny retorted.
" In that case you shall apply your
sapling ! " the king answered , laughing.
And with that, and a mind full of
amazement, I was dismissed, and left
THE TWO PAGES. 65
the presence, a grown man ; overjoyed
that the greatest scrape of my life had

turned out the happiest ; foreseeing
honor and rewards, and already scorn-
ing the other pages as immeasurably

beneath me. It was a full minute be-
fore I thought of Antoine, and the

chance that he, too , had overheard the
king's plan. Then I stood in the pas-
sage horrified- my first impulse to re-
turn and tell the king. It came too
late, however, for in the meantime
he and M. de Rosny had repaired to
the closet, and the others had left ;
and while I stood hesitating, Antoine
slipped out of the chamber unseen ,
and came to me on the stairs.
His first words . went far to relieve
me ; for they told me that he had over-

heard something, but not all ; enough
to know that the king intended to sur-
prise a place of strength, and some de-
tails ; but not the name of the place.
As soon as I understood this, and that
I had nothing to fear from him, I could

66 THE TWO PAGES.
not hide my triumph. When he de-

clared his intention of going with me,
I laughed at him.
" You !" I said. " You don't under-
stand, this is not child's play !"

" And you will not tell where it is ? "
he asked, raging.
'No ! Go to your nurse and your
pap-boat, child."
He flew at me at that like a mad cat,
and I had to beat him until the blood
ran down his face before I could shake
him off. Even then, and while I thrust
him out sobbing, he begged me to tell
him-only to tell him . Nor was that all.
Through all the next day he haunted
me and persecuted me, now with
prayers and now with threats ; follow-
ing me everywhere with eyes of such

hot longing that I marveled at the irre-
pressible spirit that shone in the lad.
Of course I told him nothing. Yet I
was glad when evening came, and with
it an announcement that Henry would
visit M. de Gourdon and lie that night
THE TWO PAGES. 67
at his house, four miles from Mantau-

ban. Only eight gentlemen were in-
vited to be of the party, with as many
ladies ; the troop with a handful of ser-
vants riding out of the city about five
o'clock, and no one the wiser. No one
saw anything odd in the visit, nor in

my being chosen to attend the king.
But I knew ; and I was not surprised
when we stopped at M. de Gourdon's
only to sup, and then getting to horse,
rode through the night and the dusky
oak woods, by sleeping farms and ham-
lets , and under rustling poplars—rode
many leagues, until we saw the lights.
of Cahors below us, and the glim-
mer of the winding Lot, and heard the
bells of the city tolling midnight .
By this time, every road adding to
our numbers , we were a great com-
pany and how we lay hidden through
the early night in the walnut grove that
looks down on the river all men know ;
but not the qualms and eagerness that

by turns possessed me as I peered
68 THE TWO PAGES.
through the leaves at the distant lights,

nor the prayer I said that I might not
shame my race, nor how my heart beat

when Henry, who was that day twenty-
seven years old, gave the order to
advance in the voice of one going to a
ball. Two men with a petard— then a
strange invention -led the way through
the gloom , attended by ten picked sol-
diers. After them came fifty of the
king's guards , and the king with two
hundred foot ; then the main body of a
thousand. We had the long bridge
with its three gates to pass ; and beyond

these obstacles, a city bitterly hostile,
and occupied by a garrison far out-
numbering us. Never, indeed, did men
enter on a more forlorn or perilous
enterprise.
I remember to this day how I felt as
we advanced through the darkness, and
how long it seemed while we waited,
huddled and silent, at the head of the
bridge, expecting the petard, which had
been fixed to the first gate, to explode,
THE TWO PAGES. 69
At length it burst, filling the heavens.

with flame ; before the night closed
down again, the leaders were through
the breach and , past that gate , and
charging over the bridge, the leading
companies all mingled together.
I had no fear now. If a friendly
hand had not pulled me back , I should

have run on to the petard which drove
in the second gate. As it was, I passed
through the second obstacle side by
side with the king-but went no
farther. The garrison was awake now,
and a withering fire from fifty arque-
buses swept the narrow bridge ; those
who were not struck fell over the
dying ; the air was filled with screams

and cries ; a moment and the very
bravest recoiled, and sought safety
behind the second gate, where we
stood in shelter.
The moment was critical, for now
the whole city was aroused. Shouts
of triumph rose above the crackle of
the guns ; in every tower bells jangled

70 THE TWO PAGES.
noisily, and on the summit of the third
gateway, which from every loophole

and window poured on us a deadly
hail of slugs, a beacon-fire blazed up,
turning the black water below us to
blood.
I have said the moment was critical
-for France and for us. For a few
seconds all hung back. Then St.
Martin sprang forward, and by his side

Captain Robert, who had fixed the first
petard. They darted along the bridge,
but only to fall and lie groaning half-
way over. Henry made a movement
as if to follow , but young M. de Rosny
held him back, while half a dozen sol-
diers made the attempt . Of these,
however, four fell under the pitiless
fire, and two crawled back wounded.
It seemed that a man must be more
than mortal to pass that place ; at any
rate, while one might count twenty no
one moved.
Captain Robert lay scarcely fifteen

paces from us, and by his side the ham-
THE TWO PAGES. 71
mer, spike, and petard he had carried,

all visible in the glow of ruddy light
that poured on the bridge. Suddenly,
while I stood panting and irresolute,
longing, yet not daring, -since I saw
older men hold back, —suddenly a hand
twitched my sleeve, and I turned to
find at my elbow, his hair streaming

back from his brow, Antoine ! The
lad's face and eyes flashed scorn at me.
He waved his hand toward the bridge.
" Coward !" he cried, and he struck
me lightly on the cheek with his hand.
"Coward ! Now follow me ! "
And, before anyone could stay him,
he darted from the shelter of the gate-
way in which we stood , and raced across
the bridge. I heard a great shout on
our side, and the roar of a volley ; but
dull only, for, enraged by the blow and
the challenge, I followed him- I and a
dozen others. Some fell , but he ran on,
and I after him. He snatched up the
petard and the hammer, I the spike.
In a moment, as it seemed to me, we
72 THE TWO PAGES.
were at the farther gate attaching the

engine to it. I held the spike, he ham-
mered it, the smoke and the frowning
archway, to some extent, protecting us
from those above.
I often think of those few seconds
with pride. While they lasted we stood

alone, separated by the whole length of
the bridge from our friends. For a few
seconds only ; then, with a yell of tri-
umph, the remains of Henry's " for-
lorn " rushed forward, and though
many fell, enough came on. In a trice
eager hands took the engine from us,

and secured the fuse , and lit it, and bore
us back I was going to say, out of
danger ; but alas ! as a deafening crash
and a blaze of blinding light proclaimed
the way open and the gate down , he
who had done the deed, and opened
the way, fell across me, shot from a
loophole ! As the rain of fragments
from the gate fell hissing and splashing
in the stream that flowed below, and
the foot streamed over the bridge and
THE TWO PAGES. 73
pressed through a breach. Antoine

gave a little gasp, and died on my
knee.
The rest all men know ; how through
five days and nights we fought the

great street-fight of Cahors ; how we
took no rest, save against walls and
doorways ; how we ate and drank with
hands smirched with blood , and then
to it again ; how we won the city house
.
by house, and foot by foot, until at last
the white flag waved from the great
tower, and France awoke with a start
to know that in the young prince of
pleasure, whom she had deemed
trifler, was born the shrewdest states.
man and the boldest soldier of all her
royal line.
And Antoine ! When I went, after
many hours, to seek him , the horse had
crossed the bridge ; even his body was
gone. How he had traced us, how
managed to come to the front so oppor-
tunely, whether without him the star of
Navarre would have risen so gloriously
74 THE TWO PAGES.
on that night of '80, I cannot say. But

when I hear men talk of Crillon and
courage-above all, when I hear them
talk of the fops and popinjays of to-

day, I think of my comrade and rival
who won Cahors for the king. And I
smile-I smile.
THE ABSURD ROMANCE OF
P'TITE LOUISON . *
By Gilbert Parker.
THE five brothers lived with Loui-

son , three miles from Pontiac, and
Medallion came to know them first
through having sold them, at an auc-

tion, a slice of an adjoining farm. He
had been invited to their home, intimacy
had grown, and afterward, stricken with
a severe illness, he had been taken
into the household and kept there till
he was well again . The night of his
arrival Louison, the sister, stood with
a brother on either hand, -Octave
and Florian, -and received him with
a courtesy more stately than usual, an
expression of the reserve and modesty
75
76 THE ABSURD ROMANCE OF
of her single state . This maidenly

dignity was at all times shielded by
the five brothers, who treated her with
a constant and reverential courtesy.
There was something signally sugges-
tive in their homage, and Medallion

concluded at last that it was paid not
only to the sister but to something

that gave her great importance in
their eyes.
He puzzled long, and finally decided

that Louison had a romance . There
was something in the way they said
" P'tite Louison "; in the manner they
avoided all gossip regarding marriages
and marriage-feasting ; in the way they
deferred to her on a question of eti-
quette in married life (as, for instance,
Should the eldest child be given the
family name of the wife or a Christian
.
name from her husband's family ?)
which suggested it. And P'tite Loui-
sons' opinion was accepted instantly as
final, with triumphant and satisfied
nods on the part of all the brothers,
P'TITE LOUISON. 77
and with whispers of " How clever !

how adorable ! such beauty ! "
P'tite Louison affected never to
hear these remarks, but looked com-
placently straight before her, stirring
the spoon in her cup, or benignly
passing the bread and butter. She
was quite aware of the adoration in
which she was held, and she gracefully
accepted the fact that she was an
object of interest.
Medallion had not the heart to
laugh at the homage of the brothers,
nor at the outlandish sister, for
though she was angular and sallow

and thin, and her hands were large
and red, there was a something deep
in her eyes, a curious quality in her
carriage, which commanded respect.
She had ruled these brothers, had
been worshiped by them, for near half
a century, and the romance they had
kept alive had produced a grotesque
sort of truth and beauty in the admir-
ing " P'tite Louison," an affectionate
name for her greatness, like the " Lit-

tle Corporal " for Napoleon . She was
not little, either, but above the middle
height, and her hair was well streaked
with gray.
Her manner toward Medallion was
not marked by any affectation . She

was friendly in a kind, impersonal way,
much as a nurse cares for a patient,
and she never relaxed a sort of old-
fashioned courtesy, which might have
been trying in such close quarters,
were it not for the real simplicity of
the life and the spirit and lightness of
of their race . One night Florian-
there were Florian and Octave and
Felix and Isidore and Émile—the
eldest, drew him aside from the others,
and they walked together by the river.

Florian's air suggested confidence and
mystery, and soon, with a voice of
hushed suggestion he told Medallion

the romance of P'tite Louison . And
each of the brothers at different times
during the next two weeks did the
P'TITE LOUISON. 79
same, differing scarcely at all in details

or choice of phrase or meaning, and
not at all in general facts and essen-
tials. But each , as he ended , made a
different exclamation.
" Voilà ! so sad , so wonderful ! She
keeps the ring-dear P'tite Louison ! "
said Florian , the eldest.
"Alors ! she gives him a legacy in
her will ! Sweet P'tite Louison ," said
Octave.
" Mais ! the governor and the car-

dinal admire her-P'tite Louison ! "
said Felix , nodding confidently at Me-
dallion .
"Bien ! you should see the linen

.
and the petticoats ! " said Isidore, the
humorous one of the family. " He
was great- she was an angel- P'tite
Louison joli ! ”
66
Attends ! what love ! what his-
tory ! what passion !-the perfect
P'tite n
Louiso ! " cried Émile , the
youngest, the most sentimental .
" Ah, Molière ! " he added , as if call-

ing on the master to rise and sing the

glories of this daughter of romance.
Isidore's tale was after this fashion :
" I ver' well remember the first of it ;
and the last of it- who can tell ? He
was an actor- oh, so droll, that ! Tall,
ver' smart, and he play in theater at
Montreal. It is in the winter. P'tite
Louison visit Montreal. She walk
past the theater, and as she go by

she slip on the snow and fall. Out
from a door with a jomp come M'sieu
Hadrian, and pick her up. And when
he see the pretty face of P'tite Loui-
son, his eyes go all fire and he clasp
her hand to his breast.
" Mademoiselle ! Mademoiselle ! '
he say, ' we must meet again !'

"She thank him. and hurry away
quick. Next day she is skating, and

she try to do the dance of the Blue
Fox on the ice. While she do it, some-
one come up swift, and catch her
hand, and say, ' Ma'm'selle , let's do it
together '-like that ! It take her
P'TITE LOUISON. 81
breath away. It is M'sieu Hadrian .

He not seem like the other men she
know, but he have a sharp look, he is
smooth in the face , and he smile kind
like a woman . P'tite Louison , she
give him her hand , and they run away ,

and everyone stop to look . It is a
grand sight ! .
He laugh and his teeth
shine , and the ladies say things of him ,
and he tell P'tite Louison that she
look ver' fine and walk like a queen .
I am there that day , and I see all and I

think it d- n good : I say : ' That
P'tite Louison , she beat them all '--I
am only twelve years old then . When
he leave he give her two seats for the
theater, and we go. Bagosh ! that is
grand thing, that play, and M'sieu
Hadrian , he is a prince ; and when he
say to his minister , ' But , no , my lord ,
I will marry out of my star , and where
my heart go, not as the state wills , ' he
look down at P'tite Louison , and she go
all red , and some of the women look at
her, and there is a whisper all roun ' .

" Nex' day he come to the house

where we stay, but the curé come also
pretty soon and tell her she must go
home. And so we come out home.
Well, what you think ? Nex' day
M'sieu' Hadrian come, too , and we
d-
have d― n good time- Florian , Oc-
tave, Felix, Émile, they all sit and say :
'Parfaitement !' 'Ci! Ci !' to him
all the time. Holy, what fine stories
he tell ! And he talk about P'tite
Louison, and his eyes get wet, and

Émile say his prayers to him-ba-
gosh ! yes, I think. Well, at last, what

you guess ? M'sieu' he come and
come, and at last one day, he say that
he leave Montreal and go to New
York, where he get a good place in a
big theater- his time in Montreal is
finish. So he speak to Florian and
say he want to marry P'tite Louison ,
and he say, of course, that he is not
marry and he have money. But he
is a Protestan', and the curé at first
ver' mad, bagosh !
P'TITE LOUISON. 83
" But at last when he give a hunder'

dollars to the Church , the curé say yes.
All happy that way for while. P'tite

Louison, she get ready quick- saprie,
what fine things had she ! and it is
all to be done in a week, while the
theater in New York wait for M'sieu .
And he sit there with us, and play on
the fiddle, and sing songs, and act
plays, and help Florian in the barn,
and Octave to mend the fence, and
the curé to fix the grapevines on his
wall. And he show me and Émile
how to play sword sticks ; and he pick
flowers and fetch them to P'tite Loui-
son, and show her how to make an
omelette and a salad like the chef of
the Louis Quinze Hotel, so he say.
Bagosh, what a good time we have !
but first one, then another, he get a
sob in his throat when he think that
P'tite Louison go to leave us, and the

more we try, the more we are d― n
fools . And that P'tite Louison, she
kiss us every one, and say to M'sieu'
Hadrian, Charles, I love you , but I

cannot go ! ' He laugh at her, and
"
say: Voilà ! we will take them all
with us.' That night a thing happen.
The curé come, and he look ver' mad,
and he frown and he say to M'sieu'
Hadrian before us all, " M'sieu , you
are married !'
" Saprie ! that P'tite Louison get

pale like snow, and we all stand round
her close and say to her quick, ' Cour-
age, P'tite Louison ! ' M'sieu' Hadrian
then look at the priest and say : ' No,
M'sieu' , I was married ten years ago ;
my wife drink and go wrong, and I

get divorce. I am free like the wind. '
" You are not free , ' the curé say
quick. Once married, married till
death. The Church cannot marry you
again, and I command Louison to give

you up.'
" P'tite Louison stand like stone.
M'sieu' turn to her. 'What shall it be,
Louison ?' he " You will come
say.
with me ?'
P'TITE LOUISON. 85
" Kiss me, Charles,' she say, ' and

tell me good-by till- till you are
free.'
"He look like a madman. ' Kiss
me once, Charles,' she say, ' and let
me go .'
" And he come to her and kiss her
on the lips once, and he say : ' Loui-

son, come with me. I will never give
you up.'
" She draw back to Florian. ' Good-
by, Charles ! ' she say. 'I will wait as
long as you will. Mother of God !
how hard it is to do right ! ' she

say, and then she turn and leave the
room .
" M'sieu' Hadrian , he give a long
•
sigh. It was my one chance, ' he say.
Now the devil take it all ! ' Then he
nod and say to the curé : 'We'll
thrash this out at Judgment Day,
M’sieu ’ . I'll meet you there—you and
that other woman that spoiled me. '

" He turn to Florian and the rest of
us, and shake hands, and say : ' Take

care of Louison . Thank you. Good-

by !' Then he start toward the door,
but stumble, for he look sick. ' Give
me a drink,' he say, and begin to
cough a little- a queer sort of rattle.

Florian big drink, and he
give him
"
toss it off-Why ! Thank you ,' he
say, and start again, and we see him
walk away over the hill ver' slow ; and
he never come back ! But every year
there comes from New York a box of
flowers, and every year, P'tite Louison

.
send him a ' Merci, Charles, milles
fois . Dieu te garde. ' It is so every
year for twenty-five year. "

"Where is he now ? " asked Medal-
lion.
Isidore shook his head, then lifted
his eyes religiously. "Waiting for
Judgment Day and P'tite Louison ,'
he answered .
" Dead ! " cried Medallion . " How
long ?'
" Twenty year. "
" But the flowers-the flowers ? "
P'TITE LOUISON. 87
"He left word for them to be sent
just the same, and the money for it. "

Medallion took off his hat rever-
ently as if a soul were passing from

the world, but it was only P'tite Loui-
son going out into the garden.
" She thinks him living ? " he asked
gently as he watched Louison.
"Yes ; we have no heart to tell her.
And then he wish it so. And the
flowers kep' coming. '
"Why did he wish it so ?"
Isidore mused a while.
"Who can tell ? Perhaps a whim.

He was a great actor-ah, yes , sub-
lime !" he said.
Medallion did not reply, but walked

slowly down to where P'tite Louison
.
was picking berries. His hat was still
off.
"Let me help you , mademoiselle,"

he said softly. And henceforth he
was as foolish as her brothers.
THE SICKLE OF FIRE . *
By Charles Kelsey Gaines.
It is a fact not generally known , out-

side strictly scientific circles at least ,
that there exists an element (techni-
cally called Hydropyrogen, symbol
Hp) possessing qualities of such a
nature that its more abundant produc-
tion, or any recklessness in use, might
imperil the human race. Happily, in
its pure state, in which alone it is dan-
gerous, this substance is very rare ;

indeed, only one specimen is now known
to exist, and that is kept hermetically
sealed in thick glass. Its name never
appears in the ordinary text- books-
for prudential reasons.
There are more of these formidable
secrets in the laboratories of our biol-
88
THE SICKLE OF FIRE. 89
ogists and chemists than most people

suspect. Few, until very recently,
were aware that in a frail glass tube,
not too scrupulously guarded , in the
very heart of the great American me-
tropolis, there are living, malignant
germs of Asiatic cholera which , if set
free, might cause an epidemic that
would cost millions of lives. And
there are other things in that lockless

cabinet quite as bad.
bad. There exist,
also, poisons, the formulæ for which
never published, and explosives
that no chemist dare compound save
in the minutest quantities. Many of
these things are altogether unknown to
the ordinary student : only the well-
tried specialist has knowledge of them.
But to return to hydropyrogen . It
is obtained, but only with the greatest
difficulty, from the smoke products of a
certain kind of sea-weed. Even in this
the element is not always present.
Out of a hundred specimens incin-

erated and analyzed, ninety-nine would
90 THE SICKLE OF FIRE .
probably show no trace of it ; and when

it does occur, few are the chemists able
to detect, much less separate it—a most
fortunate circumstance.
Hydropyrogen, as developed from

this sea-weed when burned under the
action of an electric current ( Tesla's)
of the highest tension, is an almost
impalpable gas-the lightest yet dis-
covered. It diffuses rapidly, and easily
permeates every known substance ex-
cept indurated glass. When subjected
to a process similar to that by which
other gases are liquefied-a combina-
tion of tremendous pressure with ex-
treme cold- it suddenly solidifies,
falling in a heap of slender, needle-
like crystals of a vivid ruby color.
This experiment has been successfully
carried through only three times. The
crystals thus obtained may be pre-
served for almost any length of time,
provided they are kept absolutely free
from moisture ; hence they are sealed
in heavy tubes of indurated glass . In
the darkness these crystals gleam with

a fiery, quivering phosphorescence,
comparable only to the shifting colors
sometimes seen in the aurora borealis.
Indeed, it is probably of the same es-
sential nature, being caused by induced
currents streaming through the vacuum
tubes in which this unstable and in-
tensely energetic agent is encased .
I have said that hydropyrogen is
dangerous to the safety of the world.
This is due to its extraordinary effect
in decomposing and inflaming water,
Not that it is difficult to decompose
water-that is done every day by
familiar processes ; but there is no
other agent which exhibits so terrible
a potency-no other which so defies
control.
Its action may be explained by a fa-

miliar illustration. A child sets on end
a line of dominoes, separated by spaces
of about an inch. He pushes over the
nearest, and the whole line goes down
with a swift crash, each unbalancing
92 THE SICKLE OF FIRE.
the next till all are fallen . Just so with

a series of molecules ; the dissolution
of one breaks up those next adjacent,
when once the action is started . Such
is the operation of all explosives, and

of many poisons , —e. g. , snake venom .
There seems to be scarcely any limit
to the effect which may be produced
by an infinitesimal portion of the dis-
turbing agent, provided it has a con-
tinuous field of suitable material on
which to act.
How fearful may be the effect of

hydropyrogen if indiscreetly used, no
living man can testify as I can . Why
do I tell the story ? Because some
vague hints have already reached the
public through certain Canadian pa-
pers ; and if the matter is to be agitated
at all, the warning lesson should be
read in full.
It occurred only a few months ago.

I had been studying for several years
under Professor O. D. McKazy, the
discoverer of hydropyrogen, and the
only man who has ever succeeded in

producing the crystals. I had assisted
him in his experiments , -often a trying
ordeal, -and was deep in his confidence .
We had already used the crystals on
the contents of a large tank in an in-
closed court, with startling results.
The professor now wished to experi-
ment on a much larger scale, —which
could be done with safety only in an
uninhabited region . He had heard of
a small lake suitable for the purpose, in
British America, among the mountains
near the Pacific Coast ; and thither we
proceeded.
Our journey, though not without
hardship, was accomplished without
mischance. We encamped, with our
Indian guides, about two miles from
the lake, which we first visited by day
to make sure of the trail. Then at
night, leaving our Indians, -whom we
never saw afterward, -we stole with
feverish eagerness through the black

darkness of the evergreens , and at last
emerged on the ledges that overhung

the lake.
It lay at some depth below, banked
with cliffs on every side , reflecting the
black sky and the sparkling stars.
Nearly opposite, a little white cascade
drew a broad chalk-mark down the
dusky wall, and we could faintly hear
its chilly dashings. The place was like
a well, and it was said to have no
outlet.
Dropping upon our hands and knees
we crept out on a jutting bluff, and the
professor tossed down a pebble. The
splash shattered the reflected sky ;
then its stars returned , but waved and
blinked as the ripples circled outward.
With great precaution the professor
now broke the tube containing the
crystals, and hastily cast it down after
the pebble. As it reached the surface ,
along with the splash a faint hiss was
audible. For an instant fiery worms.
wriggled and darted about. Then a
little ruby cloud appeared in the water.
It grew till it glowed like the sunset .

A seething sound was heard, and we
perceived that the hue was caused by
an infinitude of little fiery bubbles ;
and as they rose and burst, a pale blue
flame began to play above the water.
Pale, but hot- horribly hot. We could
feel its withering blast even where we
stood. It mounted higher : it towered
above us.
" Run ! Run !" screamed the pro-

fessor. And we ran as if hell had
opened at our feet.
Even so, our delay had well-nigh
cost our lives. Breathless, scorched ,
shuddering, we reached the brow of
the mountain. Here we lay flat, and
shielding our faces peered back over
the edge .
All the water was now red as sun-
shot wine ; the whole lake was seething
like a caldron . The rocky walls shone
ruddy with the reflection --or, was it
possible that they were growing red
with the heat ? The blue flames united
from all parts of the surface, and rose

to the sky in a tall, faint, wavering col-
umn, much like the flame of an alcohol
lamp-but half a mile high.

And the heat- oh ! the heat was
blinding. Our flesh was blistered ; the
very hair upon our heads was crinkling,
burning. Crazy with pain and terror

we rolled down the slope, leaped, ran,
plunged, fell, and at last brought up in

a deep ravine near the foot of the
mountain, where a considerable stream
gushed from a cavern . How cool and
comforting its plashing seemed !

We now lay in the shadow of the
hill ; but just over our heads streamed
the blue light and consuming ardor of
that fiery column from which we had
fled, glinting upon the rocks and with-
ering the scanty vegetation for miles
around. We saw acres of stunted
evergreens below us, shrinking, crisp-

ing to tinder in that inordinate glow ;
then the dry needles sparkled , and here
and there a tree spouted up a fountain
of red flame. Soon the whole forest

was ablaze beyond us, and our ravine.
was in shadow no longer.
Then we crept back into the cavern
of the roaring stream, far under the
mountain, finding precarious foothold
by the margin of the water, till at last
only a faint glow showed the opening
by which we had entered . Here the
rugged roof vaulted higher, and was

lost in darkness. We sunk prone on a
shelf of rock beside the gurgling tor-
rent ; the spray dashed over our aching
limbs, and we found relief.
But the place was full of noises.
Not merely the voice of the pouring
waters that moaned and echoed every-
where. More and more frequent came
rumblings , followed by a sound like
heavy thunder, and a tremor as if
the mountain shuddered to its roots.
Doubtless, the raging furnace above
was cracking the cliffs that walled the
lake ; the overheated ledges were
bursting.
E
98 THE SICKL OF FIRE.
I perspired under the raining spray ;

it seemed to me that the floor on
which I lay was growing warmer. I
laved my hand in the running water,

but jerked it back with a cry ; the
stream was scalding hot ! A ruddy
sparkle seethed in its current ; the
vault above me was becoming faintly
visible ; as I gazed, the fantastic cavern

dome grew rosy as the morning sky.
With a scream of terror I sprang
toward the entrance ; a great light
flamed behind me ; a strong gust of
fire and wind swept me onward, till I

found myself fallen on the bank of the
ravine outside. A pale blue blow-pipe
flame went hissing past me. With it
came shrieks of agony more terrible

than all the groanings of the tormented
hill, shrieks of human anguish, -- and a
strange ape-like figure was flung beside
me and lay writhing. It was the
professor, my friend, but seared and
branded almost beyond recognition.
His clothing was burned away ; of
his straggling locks and black silky

beard not a hair remained. His long
arms twitched , and his slender fingers
clutched the parched, crumbling moss
as he lay in pain inexpressible. Thus
Science had rewarded her most gifted
.
votary.
Yet even in that supreme moment
he was not forgetful. "'Twas the out-
let !" he gasped. " The ferment has
worked through. Oh, my God ! Run !
Cut off the stream or the world is lost. "
The situation was so tremendous
that for an instant I could not grasp
it. I stood motionless as if I had not
heard.
He sprang up and pushed me. In
the anguish of his soul the torment of

his body was forgotten.
"The sea ! " he wailed. " O God !
O God ! Cut it off from the sea !"
He was an atheist, but he called
upon God. Many times in that awful
hour he called upon God. It was not
profanity ; it was the elemental cry of
the human soul in its despair. It is
the cry that will be heard on the Day

of Judgment ! it is the cry of the
damned.
The Day ofJudgment ! It was upon
us. The last trump had sounded ; the
earth was to be consumed , and its
oceans would be as oil in that mighty

conflagration .
I leaped down the ravine. Already
the upper waters of the stream were
burned away, and its bed was dry and
hot. Yet such speed did I make in
that mad , desperate race, that I almost
overtook the fleeing torrent which
flowed and flamed before me. Then
suddenly my strength gave way, my

limbs sunk under me , and I fell like a
stricken animal ! For some moments
I lay shrouded in deadly faintness,

incapable of thought .
Then, with a wrench of effort, I sat
up, giddy and weak. I found myself
on the brink of a vast precipice-three
steps more would have ended all-
THE SICKLE OF FIRE. ΙΟΙ
where the torrent had dropped its

foaming waters through a sheer descent
of more than a hundred feet.
But the torrent was gone. Only a
little fire still dripped from the verge,
and splashed in liquid flashes upon the
rocks below. And the pale light and
searing heat no longer streamed down
from the mountain, though the red
crater that an hour before had held the
glimmering lake cast up a lurid, vol-

canic glow against the sky.
Before me lay a broad, dusky land-
scape, sloping toward the sea, buried in
mist and shadow. But through it ran
a flicker of light, as the envenomed
stream sped on its deadly mission
.
toward the deep , breaking at intervals
into cascades of incandescent bright-
ness, and sending far down its current
the ruddy, sparkling spume that marked
the first decomposition of the waters.
Nearer and nearer to the sea the fiery
line was creeping, stretching itself
along like a glowing earthworm.
And I , too , cried upon God in my

extremity, for man was impotent and
science vain. Science ! Was it not
the very life-blood of that red devil
yonder, crawling on with unquenchable

torch to make a molten ruin of the
world ? And I , that believed not in
God, I also prayed to God, and wept
and prayed again .
In the midst of my crying I felt a
touch, and clasped in my arms the
limp body of my almost dying friend.
Dying he surely was ; yet, even then,
his iron will - hardened by scientific
training and ordeals such as ordinary
men never dream of-so triumphed
that, despite the intolerable suffering
that dazed and blinded him, he had
dragged himself down the rough gorge
to see the end.
And the end was near. Already
that distant tongue of vibrant flame
was flicking at the margin of the sea.
It was more than human nerves could
bear. We shrieked out like men in
nightmare terror. We shrieked , and

shrieked again, and could not cease,
for the end of the world was NOW.
The envenomed spume darted out

against the surf. Then a long white-
crested wave rolled in and buried it
from view. A tall column of steam
shot up, so ruddy that at first it seemed
a jet of fire ; and a sound began to fill
the air, as when white-hot steel is
quenched in the ice-bath.
The professor sprang to his feet . He
stood lifted upon his toes, every muscle
tense ; his breath came and went in
shrill sighs. Disfigured , naked , in that

weird light, he was like a devil-hunted
soul fleeing from its place of torment ;
on his face a wild agony of hope, as if
one might indeed escape from hell.
He strove to speak, but the words gur-
gled like an obstructed brook. Then
with supreme endeavor he trumpeted a
cry : " The salt ! " if I heard aright,
for indeed it was hardly articulate—
and he fell like a figure of stone.
Meanwhile, as the wave receded on

the beach a change was visible. The
red had vanished ; a wash of luminous
green flowed down the sand ; the surf
was shot with sparkles and flashes of
still more vivid hue. Then the red
waters of the stream again prevailed,
and pressed far out in the brine.
Gushes of colored light bubbled up
from the depths, and all over the toss-
ing surface fluttered flames of blue
and green. It seemed as if the briny
waters and the fresh were struggling
for the mastery. Was it possible that
the salt of the sea had power- I dared
not think it.
The waters were now boiling with

volcanic violence ; the air above was
thick with rolling clouds of rainbow-
tinted vapor ; the many-hued gleams
and flashes playing under the waves lit
up the bottom of the ocean far and
near. So intense was the illumination
that I could see the scaly glitter of the

frightened fishes as they sped away on
every side, and the black slimy shapes

of nameless monsters struggling in the
scalding liquid.
O God of mercy ! what would be
the end ? The strain was madness ;
the suspense was more than death.
Was there indeed a God of power to
save or only this hideous demon of
science, which man had evoked but
might not quell ?
I lifted my eyes to the black, unan-
swering heavens, and cried to the void
above :
"O God- if thou art God- oh !
cast me down for my sin , with this
raging fire, into the abyss of hell ; but
save the fair world created by thy
hand- its teeming cities, and the mil-
lions that are sleeping-thy children . "
And at that moment I seemed to
see all the peoples of the earth buried
in slumber, the bride in the arms of
her loved one, the mother beside her
babe. And I saw, as in vision, a con-
flagration mounting above the clouds,
streaming far into airless space, sweep-

ing on to the destruction of mankind .
The channel of the stream was now
empty ; the last crimson drops of fer-

ment were drained into the deep.
For an instant the surface darkened,
and the ebullition almost ceased.
Then, with an earthquake shudder, a

blinding avalanche of liquid incandes-
cence, the waters were lifted in a thou-
sand fountains.
I lay staring at the sky ; raindrops

were falling on my face ; it was very
dark. Whether I had been stunned
by the shock of the explosion, or
whether human consciousness could
no longer endure the strain , I do not
know. Evidently some time had
elapsed. My head was resting upon

something cold and dead. I knew too
well what it was ; but at first I could
not rise ; my will was helpless, my

body corpse-like. I tried to think, but
sensation lapsed again.
At last I roused , and was able to

turn a little. Slowly the power of
sight came back to my glazed eyeballs.

All the land was in shadow ; the sea
was dark and smooth. The virus of
fire was quite burned out, the last

spark extinguished in the quenching
brine. The world was saved.
THE LEGEND OF THE
GARDENER. *
By Beatrice Harraden.
THERE was once , in the ages gone

by, a gardener of rare patience and dis-
cernment. He would go out into wild
places, and, stooping down, would de-
tect some tiny plant of no moment to
careless eyes, and would bring it home
to his garden, and tend it with such
loving care that it would gain strength
and beauty, surprising him and gratify-
ing him with its generous response to
his tender fostering.
People heard of his beautiful plants
and came to his garden.
“ Ah , you indeed have a rare plant
here ! " they would say, pointing to one
* Copyright, 1895, by Beatrice Harraden.
IOS
THE LEGEND OF THE GARDENER. 109
of his treasures. " That must be

priceless in its worth . "
" No, indeed," he answered ; " it is
just a wild flower, nothing more.
There are thousands like it. "
" But if we bring the wild flowers

home they will die," they answered.
66
How is that ?"
" I cannot tell ," he said, " unless it is
that I care so much, and that I have
put my very heart's desire into the
tending which I give them day after
day, and week after week. ”
Now, one day the gardener was in
had encom-
trouble ; great sorrows had
passed him, and the bright light had
faded from his life. It was nothing to
him that his garden was beautiful , and

that the fame of it had traveled first to
one land and then another, and that
many strangers sought to learn the
secret of his subtle skill. All this was
nothing to him. Heavy-hearted he

went about his work, finding neither
peace nor comfort, until one early
IIO THE LEGEND OF THE GARDENER.
morning, when he was wandering list-

lessly in the desert, weaving round his
soul a net-work of sad thoughts , his
eye chanced upon a tiny white flower.
There was something in the whiteness
of it which held him for a moment
spell-bound — it was as white as the
surf of the fairy Pacific ; as white as
an untouched field of Alpine snow ; as
white as one's ideal of a pure mind.
He stooped down and deftly raised
its roots, and, forgetful of all his sor-
rows, hastened home with his fragile
burden.
But, alas ! it was so fragile that at

first he did not dare to hope that it
would live. It drooped and drooped,
and the gardener knew that he would

lose his treasure .
" If I could only have saved it, ” he

thought. " I have never cared for any
flower so much as for this one."
Well, he saved it. And when at
last it raised its head and smiled to his
care, he felt a gladness unspeakable.

THE LEGEND OF THE GARDENER. III
" Little friend, ” he whispered . "I

found thee in an hour of sadness, and
together with thee I found courage
and consolation, and therefore , I name
thee Friendship. "
It grew up strong and beautiful,
white as the surf of the fairy Pacific,
white as an untouched field of Alpine
.
snow, white as one's ideal of a pure
mind.
Of all the plants which the gardener
cherished, this one called Friendship
far outshone them all. Strangers
could never pass it by without a tender
word of praise, and without asking the
name of this plant, which looked so
chaste and calmly beautiful, and when
they had learned its name, they all
wanted it. The rich were willing to
pay any price for it, and those who
had not money would fain have offered
the best service of their minds, their
brains, their hands.
But the gardener smiled always and

shook his head.
II2 THE LEGEND OF THE GARDENER.
" Nay," he said, " I cannot sell it

neither for money nor fame, nor any-
thing which the world may hold. It is
my very own-part of my own self.
But go ye out into the wild places and
ye will see many such plants. There
they are for everyone to take or leave.
Only have a little care in the lifting of
them and in the nursing of them.
They are very frail. Still, if you use
every care you know, your little white
flower, Friendship , will grow up
strong, revealing to you all the time
new beauties and fresh delights . At
least, thus it has been with me ."
Then, so runs the legend of the gar-
dener, those who were eager enough to
take the trouble, wandered into wild
and lonely places, and found the tiny
white flower, as they thought. But
they often gathered the wrong plant,
and took it triumphantly to the
gardener.
"See here," they said, " we have had
no trouble with this flower. From the
THE LEGEND OF THE GARDENER. 113
very first it flourished and grew

apace.
The gardener looked at it and
smiled sadly .
"So many have made that mistake,"
he said. " This is not the
the plant
Friendship, but merely its counterfeit,
which after a time loses its whiteness ,
and then it could not deceive any-
one."
But others who came to the gar-
dener had indeed found the real plant
Friendship , only they could not rear
it. They brought their faded plants to
him and pointed to them sorrowfully.
" Mine did so well at first," said one
of the strangers . "I felt so confident
of success."
" Perhaps thou wert too confident ,

and so neglected it," said the gardener
kindly. " If thou triest once more, re-
member that thou must never relax thy
watchful care."
" Ah, how can I ever hope for suc-

cess now ? " said the stranger sadly.
114 THE LEGEND OF THE GARDENER.
"My heart is sore with disappoint-

ment. "
' One never knows," said the gar-
dener ; " and if thou shouldst ever tend
another plant , hasten to tell me how it
has fared with thee and it. "
The gardener lived to know that
many, taught by him, had learned to
find the fragile flower Friendship, and
to rear it with success ; some had
failed once and twice and thrice , and
then succeeded, and others had failed
altogether. But there were many who
had divined his secret, and he was
glad. For he knew how much the
world would gain of whiteness.
Then he died, and it is not known to
whom he bequeathed his own beautiful
plant.
Maybe you have it ; perchance I
have it. It is surely among us some-
where.
A TALE OF MERE CHANCE . *
Being an account of the pursuit of the tiles, the state-

ment of the clock, and the grip of a coat of orange spots,
together with some criticism of a detective said to be carved
from an old table-leg.
By Stephen Crane.
YES, my friend, I killed the man,

but I would not have been detected in
it were it not for some very extraor-
dinary circumstances. I had long
considered this deed , but I am a del-
icate or sensitive person, you under-
stand, and I hesitated over it as the
diver hesitates on the brink of a dark
and icy mountain pool. A thought of

the shock of the contact holds one
back .
As I was passing his house one
morning, I said to myself : " Well, at

115
116 A TALE OF MERE CHANCE.
any rate, if she loves him , it will not be

for long." And after that decision I
was not myself, but a sort of a machine.
I rang the bell and the servants
admitted me to the drawing room. I
waited there while the old tall clock
placidly ticked its speech of time. The
rigid and austere chairs remained in
possession of their singular imperturb-
ability, although of course they were
aware of my purpose, but the little
white tiles of the floor whispered one
1 to another and looked at me. Pres-
ently he entered the room, and I,

drawing my revolver, shot him . He
screamed, you know that scream-
mostly amazement, -and as he fell for-
ward his blood was upon the little
white tiles. They huddled and covered
their eyes from this rain. It seemed
to me that the old clock stopped tick-

ing as a man may gasp in the middle
of a sentence, and a chair threw itself
in my way as I sprang toward the
door.
A TALE OF MERE CHANCE. 117
A moment later, I was walking

down the street, tranquil, you under-
stand, and I said to myself : " It is
done. Long years from this day I will
say to her that it was I who killed him.
After time has eaten the conscience
of the thing, she will admire my

courage.'
I was elated that the affair had gone
off so smoothly, and I felt like return-
ing home and taking a long, full sleep,
like a tired workingman . When peo-
ple passed me, I contemplated their
stupidity with a sense of satisfaction .
But those accursed little white tiles.
I heard a shrill crying and chattering
behind me and , looking back, I saw
them, blood-stained and impassioned ,
raising their little hands and scream-
46
ing : Murder ! It was he ! " I have
said that they had little hands. I
am not so sure of it, but they had some
means of indicating me as unerringly
as pointing fingers. As for their
movement, they swept along as easily
as dry, light leaves are carried by the

wind. Always they were shrilly pip-
ing their song of my guilt.
My friend, may it never be your

fortune to be pursued by a crowd of
little blood-stained tiles. I used a
thousand means to be free from the
clash-clash of these tiny feet. I ran
through the world at my best speed,
but it was no better than that of an ox,
while they, my pursuers, were always
fresh, eager, relentless.
I am an ingenious person, and I
used every trick that a desperate, fer-
tile man can invent. Hundreds of
times I had almost evaded them when
some smoldering, neglected spark
would blaze up and discover me.
I felt that the eye of conviction
would have no terrors for me, but the
eyes of suspicion which I saw in city
.
after city, on road after road , drove me
to the verge of going forward and say-
ing : " Yes, I have murdered. "
People would see the following,

A TALE OF MERE CHANCE. 119
clamorous troop of blood-stained tiles,

and give me piercing glances so that
these swords played continually at my
heart. But we are a decorous race,
thank God. It is very vulgar to ap-
prehend murders on the public streets.
We have learned correct manners from
the English. Besides, who can be

sure of the meaning of clamoring tiles ?
It might be merely a trick in politics.
Detectives ? What are detectives ?
Oh, yes, I have read of them and their
deeds , when I come to think of it.
The prehistoric races must have been
remarkable. I have never been able
to understand how the detective navi-
gated in stoneboats. Still, specimens

of their pottery excavated in Taumal-
ipas show a remarkable knowledge of
mechanics. I remember the little
hydraulic -what's that ? Well, what
you say may be true , my friend, but I
think you dream .
The little stained tiles. My friend,
I stopped in an inn at the ends of the
earth , and in the morning they were

there flying like birds and pecking at
my window.
I should have escaped. Heavens, I
should have escaped ! What was more
simple ? I murdered and then walked
into the world, which is wide and in-
tricate.
Do you know that my own clock as-

sisted in the hunt of me ? They asked
what time I left my home that morn-
ing, and it replied at once, " Half-after
eight." The watch of a man I had

chance to pass near the house of the
crime told the people : " Seven minutes
after nine. " And, of course, the tall,
old clock in the drawing room went
about day after day repeating : " Eigh-
teen minutes after nine."
Do you say that the man who
caught me was very clever ? My
friend, I have lived long, and he was

the most incredible blockhead of my
experience. An enslaved, dust-eating
Mexican vaquero wouldn't hitch his
A TALE OF MERE CHANCE. 12 I
pony to such a man. Do you think

he deserves credit for my capture ? If
he had been as pervading as the
atmosphere, he would never have
caught me. If he was a detective , as
you say, I could carve a better one
from an old table-leg. But the tiles !

That is another matter. At night I
think they flew in a long , high flock,

like pigeons. In the day, little mad
things, they murmured on my trail like
frothy-mouthed weasels.
I see that you note these great,
round, vividly orange spots on my
coat. Of course, even if the detective
were really carved from an old table-
leg, he could hardly fail to apprehend
a man thus badged. As sores come
upon one in the plague so came these
spots upon my coat. When I dis-
covered them, I made effort to free
myself of this coat. I tore, tugged ,
wrenched at it, but around my shoul
ders it was like the grip of a dead
man's arms. Do you know that I
have plunged into a thousand lakes ?

I have smeared this coat with a thou-
sand paints. But day and night the

spots burn like lights. I might walk
from this jail to-day if I could rid my-
self of this coat, but it clings - clings-
clings.
At any rate the person you call a
detective was not so clever to discover
a man in a coat of spotted orange, fol-

lowed by shrieking, blood-stained tiles.
Yes, that noise from the corridor is
most peculiar. But they are always

there, muttering and watching, clash-
ing and jostling. It sounds as if the
dishes of Hades were being washed.
Yet I have become used to it. Once,
indeed, in the night, I cried out to

them : " In God's name, go away, little
blood-stained tiles. " But they dog-
gedly answered : " It is the law. "
JETSAM .
By the retirement of A. D. F. Randolph ,

New York loses one of its oldest and most
esteemed booksellers, and the trade a dis-
tinguished and picturesque figure . During
his business career Mr. Randolph made
many warm friends, who will greatly regret
his retirement. One of his curious rules,
from the present point of view, was his
refusal to ever sell a book to a dry-goods
dealer.
****
The great success of Ian Maclaren , S. R.
Crockett, and other Scottish writers has
resulted in the publication of a convenient
" Guid Scotch Dictionary ."
This is the only dictionary of the kind
published , except a large and costly one by
Dr. Jamieson.
"His candle is bright, but it is shut up in
a dark lantern, " was the remark of the poet
Cowper, when a friend presented him with
a copy of Burns's poems, then newly issued.
****
This is the age of plungers in hotels,
magazines, and newspapers. Probably the
greatest of them all, at least in willingness
to spend money, is W. R. Hearst, of the
123
New York Journal. He has enlarged and

improved his paper in the two or three
months he has been in New York, appar-
ently without the least regard for cost, and
as a result, has probably trebled The Jour-
nal's circulation. No such increase has ever
been gained in the circulation of a paper in
so short a time . Mr. Hearst has one trait
however, that is unusual in plungers. He
does not fill his paper with boasts about
what he has accomplished .
****
There never have been so many good
English novelists as to-day, and new ones
are springing up all the time.
The race of English dramatists , however,
seems to be on the decline . There have
been more failures of English plays this
winter than for many years, and three or
four New York theatres have been obliged
to close temporarily a rare occurrence -as
their managers could not secure attractions.
****
The publishers of " Bohemia Invaded , ”
by James L. Ford , report that it has had
quite a sale in London. When Mr. Ford
heard of this, he remarked that he thought
he would have to try to enter American
literature by way of London in the same
manner that a celebrated millionaire got
into New York society. One Western critic,
in describing Mr. Ford's latest novel, " Dolly
Dillenbeck," said that he had raised fiction
to the dignity of a sport.
The following note over the signature of

Anthony Hope in his " Comedies of Court-
ship," is interesting and significant :
" The Wheel of Love,' published in
Scribner's Magazine during the past year,
and The Lady of the Pool , ' both protected
by American copyright, are here printed for
the first time in book form. The four other
stories appeared without their author's con-
sent or knowledge, with their titles changed
beyond recognition, and combined with .
other unauthorized material , in a small vol-
ume printed by an American firm . They
are here given for the first time in their
proper form and by my authority."
****
When Robert Barr's " In the Midst of
Alarms was first offered to the booksellers
in New York City, less than one year and a
half ago, only one buyer would admit that
he knew of this author by reputation . The
rapid growth of Mr. Barr's popularity may
be appreciated when it is stated that these
same buyers placed such"" large orders for
"A Woman Intervenes in advance of
publication that the first large edition had
to be postponed , and was entirely exhausted
on the day of publication.
****
In speaking recently of the few good
American novels now written, the literary
adviser of one of the largest publishing
houses in this country said that he thought
that one reason was that American authors
do not devote themselves seriously to their

work. Hall Caine, for example, he con-
tinued, will spend a year of the hardest
work on one of his novels, whereas most
MSS. by American authors read as if they
had been written after dinner, at one sitting.
****
Robert W. Chambers, the author of " The
Red Republic " and " The King in Yellow, "
is an artist by profession, and looks upon
his literary work as of secondary importance.
Notwithstanding this fact, he has un-
doubtedly gained for himself an enviable
position in American literature. His versa-
tility is remarkable, as he makes his own
designs for the covers of his books and for
their posters, and does a large amount of
newspaper work on various topics, such as
66
Military Uniforms," " Posters," etc.
His articles in the New York Times have
attracted wide-spread attention. As he is
still a young man, his future is likely to be
well worth watching .
****
One of the most interesting conversa-

tionalists among New York writers and
publishers is Mr. Blakely Hall. Six feet
three inches in height, and faultlessly
dressed, he is one of the most striking fig-
ures to be seen on Broadway.
At present he publishes only five maga
zines and weekly papers, three in New York,
and two in London . He has, however, one
other weekly on the stocks, and probably
several others in his mind.
THE ORIENT *
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Stirring Fiction of To -day .
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For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid. Sendfor catalogue.


A WOMAN INTERVENES
BY ROBERT BARR
A WOMAN INTERVENES
A New Novel by ROBERT BARR
Mr. BARR is one of the most remarkable
and interesting of American writers. One great

charm of his work is his characteristic and
spontaneous humor. He is amusing not be-
cause he tries to be, but because he cannot help
it. Moreover, his work is marked by a strong
individuality and originality.
"A Woman Intervenes " is the most important work

that Mr. Barr has ever written. It portrays modern
life at high pressure in London and New York, the
scenes being laid on both sides of the Atlantic. Its
characters include promoters, stock speculators, mining
engineers, and last, but not least, it contains the only
reasonable presentation of the modern newspaper
woman.
The book is beautifully illustrated, with twenty full-page half-tone engravings
after original designs by the English artist, Hal Hurst, whose style greatly resem-
Lles that of C. D. Gibson.
Iamo, linen, beautifully stamped with colored inks and silver, at $1.25.
Other Works by Robert Barr:

IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS
THE FACE AND THE MASK
Each, I vol., 16mo, buckram, silver top, 75 cents.


MONDAY
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MAGAZINE

Copyright, 1895, by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

THE POCKET MAGAZINE will number among

its contributors the most distinguished and popular

writers in England and America.

The contents for the next three numbers, as far as

arranged, are as follows :

THE LONG ARM, Mary E. Wilkins

THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA, Rudyard Kipling

THE PHANTOM STAIRCASE, Max Pemberton

Please mention THE POCKET MAGAZINE.

Miss Grace of All Souls.

Fettered yet Free.

Snow Bird and Water Tiger, and

Our Common Speech.

The Spirit ofJudaism.

1 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY,

Please mention THE POCKET MAGAZINE.

PUBLISHERS, New York,

THE REV. JOHN HENRY.

Please mention THE POCKET MAGAZINE.

One of the most interesting and remarkable of American writers

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY,

Please mention THE POCKET MAGAZINE.

By WILLIAM LE QUEUX, author of " The Great War in England

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY,

Please mention THE POCKET MAGAZINE.

A trip to New York should

MARK CUT GLASS

For those who cannot come,

C. DORFLINGER & SONS ,

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Candies carefully packed and shipped

THE ANDREWS PENCIL SHARPENER

FOR BOTH LEAD AND SLATE PENCILS.

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CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS , 153-157 Fifth Ave. , N. Y.

Please mention THE POCKET MAGAZINE.

Vol. I. NOVEMBER. No. 1.

Entered at the Post Office at New York as Second Class Matter.

How the Brigadier came to the Castle

THE POCKET MAGAZINE will give its readers

THE CASTLE OF GLOOM . *

You do very well, my friends, to

veterans when they were yet boys, who

see the color of their knapsacks. For

twenty years we were teaching Europe

down. Berlin, Naples , Vienna, Ma-

never be seen again.

brown faces, the swing and toss of the

laugh at the old fellow who lives among

gade when the wars came to an end,

he has his mind full of recruits and

not in the face of the enemy, life is a

he is only a lieutenant or a captain , he

was once known as Jean Carabin and

hundred remounts from Prussia into

sible when you have a daily change of

could always walk upon the march and

seurs, mark you , so that it is far

age and shade and character, all under

self, and so I have hopes that I may

We crossed the Vistula opposite