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'MS CCIUC7KW (For Tbe Sunny South.] BEYOND THE SUNSET. BY H. E. SHIPLEY. As my boat lonely floats down the river of Time, Nearing tbe sunset’s glow; Fr«»m th<* bills of the past, with their heights sublime, Where the shadows are gathering, comes the chime Of memory-bells, sweet and low. As the mariner leasts upon spice-ladened gales. Far out on the restless sea, Is the fragrance and freshness thy mem’ry exhales— Sweet as zephyrs that blow over rose-scented vales, Is a joy pure and tender to me. But the wavelets of memory are not without pain,— There are roses and thorns in the drift; The roses I garner—the thorns once again I cast, with a sigh for love that was vain, On the current s<» steady and swift. Shall I not be content? The waves, deep and wide, Xoir are drifting me far from thee; 77#* w. the sunset passed, our boats side by side Oil* that mystical shore, at anchor shall ride Evermore on eternity's sea. [Written for The Sunnv South.) WRITTEN IN BLOOD; OR, The Midnight Pledge. A Story of the Lost .Xtf/Htlron's Hcii/n. 1C V JI. Q, l' A D. CHAPTER I. One would have picked hiui out for an Ameri can as lie stood there at the gambling table, though there were full fifty others in the room. He was a young man of five-and-twenty years, with a clean-cut face, large blue eyes, a woman's mouth, and look and dress went to show that he was a gentleman. At some of the tables the players were cool 'ana collected, winning and losing without a change of countenance; and in- . deed, there was not a player in the room whose i thoughts could lie so easily read as the Arneri- ! can's. There was a desperate look in his eyes as he played and lost again and again, and his ! white hands trembled as he placed his stake on ' the card. “ Monsieur has bad luck to-night,” remarked i one of the lookers-on at the table, as the Ameri- ; can doubled his stake and lost again. “Yes, curse the luck!'' muttered the player. “A few more such losses will take mv last dol lar ?” “If luck is against the gentleman, he had bet ter wait until another evening,” suggested the i stranger. “No, hanged if I do!" replied the American, after a moment's thought. “I’ve got a hundred dollars left, and I'll lose it all or win twice as much !” He was excited, and he spoke so loud that others were attracted to the table. Word went round tbe room that the American was fighting against luck, and nearly every man in the room gathered around to see the end. “Who is he?” asked a dozen voices, but those addressed shook their heads. “ He has pluck, but luck is against him,” whis pered others. The American’s excitement became epidem- i ical. The dealer was the only man in the room unmoved. He had witnessed such scenes a liun- ■ ilred times, and he knew what the end would be. , As the excited spectators hushed their voices and crowded nearer, the man said: “The cards are laid make your play !” The other players at the table put down small sums; the American placed twenty-five dollars on liis favorite card. “Lost!" exclaimed the dealer, after a rapid count, and he raked the money into his box. “He will not play again !" whispered a score . or more of men. but they were mistaken. The American’s eyes betrayed increased desperation, and his face was a shade paler as he saw his money disappear, but he counted out a like sum and placed it on the same card. “ He will surely win this time !” whispered the men, and some of them climbed upon the table to get a better view. “Lost!” cried the dealer again, and the stake was raked in. “ Monsieur has but fifty dollars left. I believe,” whispered the gentleman who had previously souglit to discourage the player. “No—no—only fifty !” answered the American, so excited that he did not raise his head from the table. "You are a stranger in Paris, if I mistake not,” said the gentleman, “and Paris is a bad place for one without money enough to pay for a night’s lodging.” “I must win this time—I shall win !” replied the young man. and he placed another twenty- five dollars on the card. “The Americans have pluck—they are des perate !” whispered a score of spectators. There was a moment when the ticking of the clock at the farther end of the room could he plainly heard. “ Lost!” cried the dealer, as he counted up the cards, and when he had raked in the money he continued: “ Gentlemen, you are aware that it is one of the rules of this place not to allow a stranger in Paris to stake his last fifty franc. The American must reduce the amount of his stake, and. if he lose, allow some other gentleman to occupy his place at the table.” “There is my stake— lose all or win all!” ex claimed the American, tossing his money on the card. “ I cannot permit it,” said the dealer. “You must—you shall!” replied the young man. “ You have won a thousand dollars from me to-night, and you shall give me a chance !” Y'es— yes !” cried the crowd. is against the rule,” replied the dealer, looking from the cards to the crowd and back. WALTER TRAVELICK LOSES 11 tS I-AST DOLLAR IN' A O \MBLING SALOON. “ He is brave! Fortune may favor him !" they shouted. The dealer hesitated a moment, and then he laid the cards. For the first time since the game commenced, lie betrayed a little interest and ex citement. “If I lose. I am left without a franc.” muttered the Am rican, as he placed his money on the card. “ He will win—ho must win !” whispered the spectators. The excitement could not have been more in tense had a human life been at stake. The men shut their teeth together hard, and they scarcely breathed, each feeling as if his own fate was in the balance. “Lost!” cried the dealer in an excited voice, and, as something like a groan came from the spectator, he continued: “ Remember, gentlemen, that I yave him fair warning. It is now midnight, and in a quarter of an hour the bank will close for the day.” “Luck is a butterfly, which flits hither and thither in strange caprice,” said the gentleman who had taken such an interest in the American. The young man was trembling with excite ment, and the perspiration stood on his forehead as it he was greatly exhausted. It was plain to he seen that he was unnerved, and yet he made a great effort to appear calm. “It is nothing it is all right,” he replied to the gentleman. “Have you friends in Paris?” inquired the man. “Not even an acquaintance—I arrived here only two days ago." was the answer. “And when do you go out of here?” “I have five minutes yet in which to make up my mind,” replied the young man, forcing a laugh. “Will you accept of a loan?” inquired the gentleman. “I should lie no better than a beggar to ac cept of a loan when 1 had not the least hope of being able to repay. Americans never beg.” “I will buy your watch and chain and those rings,” continued the gentleman. “If you space. He did not mean to show his weakness by uttering a crv. but it passed his lips as he found himself falling down down through the darkness to a grave in the silent river. A heavy splash followed (he cry, and the river flowed on as silentlv as before. CHAPTER II. “Help! Help!” It was the yen <Fartne who called out. The answer returned by the American when asked why lie sought the river showed that something was wrong, and after taking two or three min utes to ponder over it, the </ea iFarme had fol lowed on. arriving at the end of the bridge just as the young man leaped from the rail. “Ho! there! Help! help !” shouted the offi cer. and in a moment lie called out a crowd from the cafes, and also aroused several boatmen, whose crafts were moved to the bridge. “ What is it ? What has happened ?" inquired one of another. “It was a stranger — an American; he lias leaped into the river.” answered the officer, and lie called to the boatmen to make haste. Their boats were soon pushing here and there, and some one made a huge torch of paper and. held it over so that those on the bridge could see the surface of the river. “There lie is ! there lie is !” cried one of the men, suddenly catching sight of an object float ing down. The boatmen were alongside in an instant, and they cried out that it was the American. The body was hauled into a boat, and landed, and then several men lilted it up and carried it into the cafe. “He is dead!” they whispered, as the men laid the body on the floor, and stood hack and surveyed it. One ran for a doctor, another brought liquor, and others chafed the hands and bathed the face of the supposed dead man. The Doctor soon arrived, and such effectual measures were adopted that the victim soon opened his eyes. “You are saved.” said the Doctor, feeling a his arm under that of the moody and dejected victim. The two entered the carriage and were driven away, leaving the crowd to wonder who they were, why the younger one wanted to die, and to dismiss the subject by remarking: “One can never understand those Americans: they are strange people !” Nothing was said by either occupant of the carriage for two or three minutes after starting, and then the elder one blurted out: “ Wee here, young man ! I don’t know you, and I don't care a button who you are ! It's my can did opinion that you have been trying to make a first-class fool of yourself, and that you nearly succeeded !” “Stop the carriage and let me out!” replied the young man. the blunt-spoken words having aroused his indignation. “ 1 11 he hanged if I do !” exclaimed the other. “I don't believe that yon have sense enough to find your way to the curbstone, and besides, I want to know more about you !” “ I shall tell you nothing,” replied the young what's mine is yours. man. folding his arms and leaning back. ■■ My name,” said the other, after a pause, “is Burton Colonel John Burton, of Alabama, glorious United States of America. I’m forty years old. haven't a relative that I know of, and am traveling over Europe to squander part of my fortune. I heard of you two hours ago as losing all your money in a gambling bell. They seemed to think you a devil of a fellow there, hut I don’t. I regard you as a fool—as a first- class fool, sir!” “ You mean to deliberately insult me, do you ?” exclaimed the young man in a threatening tone. "No. sir, I don’t; I simply mean to tell you my honest opinion, and I’ll do that under all cir cumstances !” The young man made no reply, and nothing more was said until they arrived at the hotel. As soon as descending from the cab, he was going to walk away, but Burton caught his arm and exclaimed: “You can't do that, sir! Now, come along with me to my room, or I’ll pick you up and finding myself penniless, I resolved to end my wild career at once.” “You haven’t got the backbone of an eel!” exclaimed Burton, striking the table with his fist. "No, sir. you haven't got that which made America the great and glorious country that she is—pluck ?” “ Why do you continue to insult me?” asked Travelick, his voice betraying the anger he felt. “ You can call me a robber, thief or lunatic, in return, if you wish.” replied Burton. The two looked at each other a moment, and then Burton continued: “ Vi i ll. I suppose I have got to take charge of you. I think you are rather weak in the top story; hut I like you, and you can consider yourself provided for until further orders.” ■•I cannot receive charity, even from a coun tryman and a friend,” replied the young man with much dignity. •• Receive the (>ld Harry !” exclaimed Burton; “I ti ll you I’m going to take care ot you for awhile, and if you go to showing sulks over it, 1 11 have handcuffs and shackles fastened on by a blacksmith !” CHAPTER III. Burton's hluntness was atoned for by his good nature. Travelick was mortified and angered at himself for allowing circumstances to place him in snrh a situation, and he had determined to escape from his friend at the first opportunity, when Burton said: “Come, now, I have a way to settle it. I am alone in this county; I want a companion. You shall he niv private secretary and companion, and your salary shall be three hundred dollars per month, and all expenses paid. Howistliat?” The young man hesitated, hut finally agreed to the terms, and Burton continued: “That's sensible; now you begin to act as if your brains had returned to your head from your boots. Here's your salary for two months in advance, and in the morning you can send for your trunk, settle your hotel hill, and come back here for further orders.” Travelick began to like the man. and knowing that he c< uld discharge any pecuniary obliga tions as soon as his own remittances arrived, he accepted the advance salary, secured the room adjoining, and ino fast asleep, in spite of liis adventures of the night. Burton sat down, filled his pipe, and pushing his legs over the table, after the American lash- ion, he soliloquized: “Burton, why are you constantly making a fool of yourself ? You'd want to provide for the whole Yankee nation if they were in trouble, wouldn't you ? Because a young man is numb skull enough to let the gamblers fleece him, and then lunatic enough to try to drown himself, you rush in, blow him up, let him down, and agree to be a father to him !” He waited awhile, as if expecting a voice to answer him, and then continued: “However, I'll forgive you this time. You were born big-hearted. You've got plenty of money, and it's well enough to allow you to in dulge in tomfoolery. You can try this young scapegoat for awhile, and if he isn’t up to the mark, you can hire some one to drown him.” Satisfied with the decision arrived at. Burton sought his bed, and it was noon before he opened his eyes. He then found that liis new friend had secured his baggage, bought himself cloth ing, and was restored to his former genteel look and self-satisfied feeling. Before night, the two had learned each other's history, and a friendship was formed to last for a life-time. “Understand,”’ said Burton, slapping his friend on the back, “what’s yours is mine, and I've got money enough part with them to a pawn-broker, you will not professional pride over his work of resuscitation, carry you in on my shoulder! receive half their value “Thanks; hut I shall keep them for a while yet,” replied the American, and with a courteous bow. he left the place for the street. He paused a moment at the door, and looked up and down, and then he turned to the left, meeting a yen d’anne. After a walk of half a square, lie halted and inquired the direction to the river. •You had better left me in the river,” replied the young man, striving to sit up. “He is well dressed, of good blood, and why should he want to die?” whispered the crowd. “I will succeed next time,” said the Ameri can, as he pulled himself into a chair. “Ah ! my dear sir. I shall not allow it,” replied the Doctor. “If you are determined to drown After a moment’s hesitation the young mail yielded, and the two walked in together and proceeded to Burton’s room. “ I am larger than you, but you will have to put on a suit of my clothes," said Burton, as he for both, and I’m going to take charge of you and bring you up as a sort of adopted son. We shall now proceed to see Paris.” Burton had nothing to hurry him, and his ample fortune allowed him to see all that was to be seen by a traveler. For the next week, the two rode and walked around the gay French capital, visiting every place of note, and they agreed famously well. Both were well educated, liberal-minded, and disposed to be cheerful, and Burton returned thanks to dame Fortune for having sent him such a friend and companion. On the evening of the eighth day, while re turning from the theatre, they stepped into a cafe to procure cigars. As they stood at the coun ter, the clink of coin and the monotonous voice of a card-dealer reached tlieir ears. I “Would the gentlemen like to pass in and look on for awhile?” inquired the man behind the counter, in his most polite tones. “ I haven't seen a card laid down for a year,” said the Colonel, “and I’ve some little curiosity to know how these Frenchmen pluck a bird. Let’s go in.” The room contained several tables and thirty or forty players. Some of the gamblers looked up as the Americans walked in, but others were too busy to give heed. It was not hiDg before the Colonel became in- unlocked his trunk. “There, now, shake oft' forested in the play. He saw through the work- Half a square down and two to the left and | yourself, 1 shall place you in charge of the po- you strike it,” answered the officer. “But wait; lice.” why do you ask ?” At this moment the little crowd was increased “I merely want to see the famous Seine by by another arrival, who elbowed his way along night,” answered the American, with a light until he stood before the would-be suicide, laugh. He continued on liis way as directed, and soon came to the bridge. The streets were de serted save by the police and an occasional straggler, and be had the bridge all to himself. “Death is a mystery, but further life is a dis- myself," was tlie reply, grace!” whispered the young man as he looked ‘“Is this man know] over the railing at the dark waters. He had lost his excitement, but his face was paler than when he staked liis last dollar and heard the crv of “Lost!’ He had determined what course to take should the cards beggar him, and now he faced death without flinching. What matter about my name,” lie whispered “You are an American, and an trouble!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand to the young man. “ I am an American, but my only trouble is with these men, who will not permit me to drown inquired the known to you ?’ Doctor of the new-comer. “He is an American, and that is enough,” answered the stranger. “He is evidently laboring under great mental depression,” continued the Doctor, “and you had better take him away and watch him closely for a day or two. He seems to be a fine young those wet things and get into these. The young man obeyed, and while he was donning tiie dry garments. Burton was busy hunting for bottle and glass. In the course of twenty minutes the change had been made, and a glass of liquor brought back the color to the young man's cheek. The desire to die had en tirely left his mind, and liis curiosity was being aroused. “Now, then, sit down here and give me tlie key to all this womanish nonsense,” said Bur ton, as lie set the example. Pride and pique struggled with common sense for a moment, and then the young man said: “ My name is Walter Travelick. and my home, if I have one, is in Philadelphia. I admit that I am foolish, else I would have had my money in my pocket now, instead of knowing that it is in possession of the gamblers. Gambling is a pas sion with me—I should say, a vice. I have squandered thousands of dollars in the last three ings of the game, though it was new to him, and finally dropped a small stake on one of the cards, saying to liis companion: “ I'll play three stakes, and no more, whether I lose or win.” The dealer thought he had a couple of victims worth plucking, and the Colonel was allowed to win three times in succession. “There—that’s the end,” said Burton, picking up his winnings. “ Gambling wouldn’t be such a vice if gamblers were of firmer mind, and knew just when to stop.” In passing out of the room, the Colonel was several feet in advance, and as Walter followed, one of the men pulled at his sleeve and in quired: “Won't your friend play any more?” “No, he will not,” answered tlie young man. “ And you ?” “I shall not.” Are the Americans such cowards?” sneered putting back the articles he had -drawn out to man, and it would be a pity to have his dead years, and am now in Paris without a shilling in the man. leave on the railing. “It will he better for my body buried in the mud of the Seine.” my pocket. I have an income from an estate, The insult touched Walter like a spark dropped friends if they do not even find my body !” ! The man ordered a carriage at once, and when graduated several years ago, and am travel- into gunpowder, and scarcely knowing what lie He gave a last look around him, and "then, as 1 it arrived, he directed the driver to a certain ing over Europe, like yourself, seeing what is ■ did, he struck the impudent fellow a blow which if fearful that his courage would desert him, he i hotel. to he seen. Tlie money which I gambled away knocked him down. sprang upon the railing and then forward into* “ Come along, young man !” he said, as he put to-night was to have lasted me two months, and “A fight—a fight!” shouted the other oecu