Newspaper Page Text
a.
m.
THE HARSH K»T..
By Shai.ep. IIii.i.ykb.
An incident of the yellow fever epidemic in Mem
phis, in 1878.
they say that the Kins of the Marsh is here,
Just come irom his haunts in the reedy fen,
By the silent pool, and the dismal mere,
To visit among the homes of men,
To visit and poison the homes of men.
“He has fed on the noisome vapors that rise
’Neath the sickly rays of the pale-faced moon,
Where the dull frog croaks and the bittern cries:
On Uic mists that float up from the still lagoon,
From the yellow slime of the dark lagoon.
“And now, grown tired of his native home,
Of his moon-lighted lair in the far morass,
He has left it, they say, and to town has coine,
To breathe in the faces of men as they pass,
To taint with his venom all men as they pass.
"Oh, John, let us fly with our darlings away,
Where this pitiless foe will not dare to pursue:
Let us fly, and at once. No, no, do not say
That we are too :ate, that his breath has touched you
That his chilling breath has already touched you.
"It was true. How my heart stopped still with affright
As I stood with the monster face to face.
And I Faw in his eyes their evil light
As he drew my husband to his embrace.
And held him there in his foul embrace.
■“John told me to take the children and fly.
To leave him here with the fiend alone,
To leave him here by himself to die—
Ha, ha, at his words all my fears were gone,
My fears and my weakness in a moment gone.
“I started up with a strength that was new;
I would work, I would watch, I would do everything
That ever one woman could think of to do
To drive from her home the dread Marsh King,
To rescue her loved ones from the fierce Fever King.
“But his grasp it was strong, and he mocked, it seemeed,
All my struggles, my watching, the prayers that I
said.
Then, merciless still—oh, my God! have I dreamed?
He laid his chill hand on my first-born's head, .
His heavy, icy hand on my first-l>orn’s head.
“Tbere were two now to save; how I strovo, how I
prayed!
I noted not time, I ate not, nor slept;
Then, at limes, I would shout from my window for aid,
But no one come nigh : my lone vigils I kept.
By the side of my dying my sad vigils I kept,
“Morn came; I knew by some stray rays of light
That fell ’cross the couch of my baby near by,
Ha, ha, how my soul grew pale at the sight—
At the sight of the little arms tossing high,
And the frenaied gleam in bis wandering eye.
“I sprang to the couch, I took up my child,
And I held him close to my breaking heart.
"He is mine,” I cried, while my brain grew wild,
‘He is mine, and we cannot, will not part.
My baby and I shall never part!
“It is mother’s face that is pressing thine.
They are mother’s arms that are holding thee;
Then fear not, my boy, for still thou art mine,
And nothing can tear my darling from me,
Can tear and bear him away from me.’
"But I strove with one who was stronger than I;
He has taken my loved ones one by one;
There is nothing left to me now but to die,
To rest from my work, for it is done,
From my labor of love which is done—is done.
'' r - a l We Ffiver i ng’s' trai n ^
In the Marsh King’s silent and sable train.
“But I laugh at his terrors, they are none to me,
At thclshadows that fall, and the mists gathering fast’
For beyond the gloom are awaiting my three,
And with them once again I shall conquer at last,
King of the Marsh, thou art vanquished at last!”
inent came over him. He shuddered, paused, ttn.-
heeding the blinding sleet that drifted into his face.
For an instant he determined to wait until the next
day liefore visiting Biddy. But a desire to learn
her fate and offer her all the sympathy and hope
in his power to bestow urged him on. The
night was of an inky blackness: yea, so dark he
could scarcely see an arm’s length before him. He
strapped at a cigar store on the comer and procured
a lantern, and then set out for the jail where poor
Biddy was incarcerated. Before he had gone very
far, however, he heard, as he fancied, the sound of
footsteps liehind him. His first thought was that
some person was unintentionally following him, and
the second that he was dogged by some one, either
to intercept him, or to spy out his actions. He
paused. The person behind him evidently did the
same. He went on, anil again he heard the tread
upon the frozen ground as liefore; again he paused
and the pursuing footsteps did the same. Algernon
was a stout-hearted man, yet he felt a thrill of
something akin to fear pass along his nerves. Alone
in a sparsely-populated village, unarmed,and clear
ly revealed to the view of the one who followed him
by the glare of the lantern he carried. But, who
could it lie that was spying out his actions or fol
lowing him with an evil intent ? Who could wish
him ill? He pushed on, however, swinging his lan
tern backward and forward so that the rays glanced
far out u]K»n the snowy, frozen ground. Just as he
reached the jail a man brushed by hint rudely. The
light of the lantern lit up his features. Despite the
muffler wrapped about them and the slouched hat,
the doctor knew the man who had dogged his foot
steps. It was “Three-Fingered Joe.”
The doctor had formed quite an acquaintance
with Mr. Seely, the jailor, therefore, he found no
difficulty in gaining an admittance. He was a
kindly disposed man, who concealed lieneath a
rough exterior one of the warmest hearts that ever
throbbed.
“I am glad to see you have come, Abel,” he said,
“the poor creature who gave herself up to-day has
been wanting to see you sadly.”
“Biddy Magoon?”
“The same doctor; thats the name, I left her an
hour ago with a commission from her for me to
send for you. But, the fact is doctor, we have so
many of these commissions, one can not attend to
them all. But this case of Biddy Magoon, is an ex
traordinary one, Mr. Abel, and I am, indeed, very
glad you have come.”
Algernon sank into a seat almost overpowered by
the emotions he had experienced. Mr. Seeley
glanced at him, and then inquired anxiously, “Are
you ill, Abel.”
“No.” replied the doctor.
“What is the matter?”
“Nothing, Mr. Seeley,” replied Algernon, trying
to shake off the forboding that oppressed him.
“But surely there is. Here is some water, or, if
you would rather, I have some choice brandy close
by. You are as white as a ghost, and tremble as
if you had seeu one.
“Do I?” Abel tried to laugh, “only a little
nervous Mr. Seely,” he said as he rose. “Let us go
at once to the poor woman’s cell.”
The jailor led the way, and taking out his hunch
of keys unlocked the door of cell eleven. Biddy
lay upon her bed of straw, her face turned to the
wall. The jailor held the candle, and the doctor
went up close to her bed and called her byname,
“Biddy, Biddy Magoon.” But there came no ans
swer “Biddy, Biddy.” But still the form upon the
bed neither moved nor gave any evidence of life.
“She's asleep, poor thing,” said the Jailor, as he
set down the light, and shook the girl by the
shoulder, “Biddy Magoon.” But there was no re-,
sponse. Abel took up the light and held it close to
her face, he stooped down and took her jnior hand
in his. It was as cold as marble, he laid his hand
upon her heart, then looked up with horror in his
face. “Good Heavens, she's dead!”
“Dead,” gasped the Jailor, and quickly turning
her face from the wall, he looked into those dim,
sightless eyes, felt the icy chill of the clay cold
hands, and shook his head sadly as he said, “yes,
doctor she’s dead.”
“Say rather, gone to her reward, faithful, noble
heart,” returned the doctor, his eyes full of tears.
The jailor stared at him in amazement. “Why
she was guilty of ” he began. ..
?«■!•» lie ■ wirneu nwn tiie iinseraoie cert.
“You will see that everything is done decently
for her burial and look to me for the payment of
all expenses.” , . ..
“Yes Mr. Abel: you will call around in ttaemorn-
He tried to move his head, but the most acute pain j wanted to get strong, and the consequence was he
SADA AND THE DOCTOR;
OR THE
Avenger of the Wronged.
BY LIEUTENANT FELIX.
CHAPTER XV.
Abel was in a brown study as to what he would
do with Sada He decided 'at, first that she should
go to some boarding school. But t hen was not that
the most foolish thing which could be done? How
easily she might lie traced by Madam Batilo or her
emissaries, and he could not tell what harm might
come to her or what harm was intended. Again
he thought of finding her a home in some quiet
family but even there the viper of hate and malice
Where was love ever greater than this?” he said
aloud. “This poor, untrained daughter of Erin has
been faithful to her vow never to desert the father
less and motherless child, through toil and privation
abuse, pain and disgrace—yes faithful even to death.
Where is the hero or heroine of history, who has
lived and died more heroically than she?”
“Stranger, who are you talking to, and who are
you talking about?” Inquired a voice directly be-
hind him. Abel turned, it was “Three Fingered
J °“I was talking of Biddy Magoon,” replied the
doctor, “she is dead.” .
“And why do you speak so highly of the Irish
wench, eli?” , , .
He came up by the doctor s side and leered at him
in a strange, impudent way.
“Eh old fellow ?” winking disgustingly.
“Because she deserves it, because she saved an in
nocent girl from an infamous plot laid to entrap
and destroy her; because her act was one of the
most unselfish and generous ever performed, that is
gusta s dead, white face came up before him, and
he seemed to hear that soft, womanly voice as lie
had heard it before, calling him and saying, "Take
good oare of them. Abel;” and he had made the sol
emn promise. Ah, he had another trust than the
one Lyman Sands liad lK.Hjucathed to him His
friend Charles Bottsford came lo his aid, however,
without intending it. ‘Til tell you, Abel, what you
can do with your protege,” he said. bhe has a good
education?” , .
“Yes. a passable one. Until she was fourteen
years of age she was brought up in school, and has
not studied since,” replied Abel
Bottsford paused for a moment m thought; final
ly he said: ., , , .. ,
‘Til tell you what, Abel: you know theres no
school in cur town for children: the academy takes
only those somewhat advanced in their studies. 1
have a plan in my head. Bessie is intending to leave
me unless 1 find some one of her sex to stay with
her to keep Old Mother Grundy’s tongue silent.
You know there arc so manv busylxidies in our town,
and this protege of yours might make her home
at our house and teach Montrose and Em when not ,
otherwise engaged. That would take up her time |
and amuse her.’
“But the labor of teaching?
‘•Fudge, man, a woman needs something to do; i
something to task her care, her attention, and then
—well, of course, she'll marry in time, and
The doctor interrupted him: “Do you make that
as an offer?”
“Yes.”
Algernon thanked him and told him that he would
think about it. The consequence was, Abel con
sulted Sada upon the subject, and she, poor child,
wisbiiv to act- as far from Maple Grove as possible,
accepted the invitation gladly. The doctor thought
this would ix> all right. He quit Sada with many
caution not to leave her room or admit any one while
he was absent, promising to return as soon as lie
ascertained the fate of B.d.ly Magoon. \ ou don t
think there's any danger here, do you Mr. Abel?
questioned Sada, as the doctor cautioned her. He
did not tell her why he few.si or what he feared.
Poor child, she had anxiety enough without this.
“Oh no, not danger, hut you may as well keep
your door locked. It will not do anj harm, bada,
said Algernon. , *
She promised compliance, and yet, for some un
accountable reason. Abel felt ill at ease alter he had
why I expressed myself as I did sir.’
“So, so, ah,” he muttered. "But look here you
speak of an infamous plot, well, perhaps you will
inform me of your meaning, eh? ’
“Certainly. I mean that Sada Sands was a vic
tim of a most nefarious plot, one, that you Sit, can
explain much better than I.”
He come close up to the doctor, anil by the light
of the lantern which Aliel carried, he could see how
white his face turned.
“A nefarious plot, what do you insinuate; Sir?
Who is concerned in a plot to hurt Sada Sands?
And how should I know anything about it?”
“It is no matter to you how 1 gained my inform
ation,” replied Algernon, sharply. “Neither does
it signify to you, how I discovered who was your
companion in the sleigh when I met you, if you will
recollect, near Maple Grove. Dare you tell me
why that man wore the disguise of a woman?”
“What do you know?” Who told you? he gasped,
“who told you of the plot, anil the man in dis
guise?”
He had betrayed himself, he knew in an instant
after he had spoken, he had admitted the existence
of both plot and disguise.
“Tell me,” he hissed, or, by the devil I’ll force the
! confession from your throat.”
I “I told you that it did not signify. And now an-
! swer another thing. Do you dare tell me why you
I proposed to marry Sada Sands?”
His face was fairly rigid, his tcctli grinding with
i rage came together like the snap of a steel trap, his
i breath was quicksand short. ,
I “Yes.” he Hissed, “I do dare to tell you, I bate
Sada S’uvis, she s'ands between me and all I desire
most. But she will now stand in my way no long-
came with the effort. “Where Bin I? D ho am I?
Am I living or dead,” he muttered. Again he made
an effort to turn his head; this time he succeeded.
He felt of his head and found it was bandaged, and
the bandage was stiff with blood. He made an
effort to speak, but his tongue refused to fulfill its
office. He looked about the room; it was not very
dark to his eye;, so long unused to the sunlight. It
was not a large apartment. The floor was covered
with straw matting and the windows were shaded
by green blinds. A small stand, covered over with
vials and cups and powders, stood at the head of
the bed, and there was a dressing bureau and toilet
stand lietween the windows. Everything looked
clean, neat, but plain. He tried to remember. He
began with his earlier life, and followed up his re
collections step by step, reviewing many years and
scenes in brief panorama to reach that moment
when the thread of his life had been so nearly
snapped asunder. He remembered nothing that
could in any manner serve him in his feebleness, and
he slept again from very weariness. VV hen he
again awoke, a small night-lamp was burning dim
ly upon the bureau, and near it, in a niceiy-ciish-
ioned arm-chair, nodded an old lady in a plain dark
dress and snowy cap with a nicely plaited border,
partially hiding" the smooth silver hair. Hail he
ever seen that calm, motherly face before? He tried
to think. Evidently he had not. Who was she?
And why was he in her room, or she in his? hy
was his head bandaged, and why did any effort to
speak only give him the most torturing pain? All
these questions meeting with no answers, he busied
himself in counting the green slats in the blinds.
Abel remembered there was an odd number, and it
troubled him, and he counted and recounted them
over and over again to see if he had made no mis
take. , „ .,
“How like a little child sickness makes one, said
By and by, the old lady gave a loud snore, an I
awoke with a start. She rose from her chair,
trimmed the lamp and looked at a watch hanging
on a nail near where she sat. Then she came to-
warils the bed, anil the doctor with halt-closed
eyes, watched her niovemen's. She took a spoon
from the table-drawer and proceeded to mix the
contents of one of the little paper parcels with a
few drops of water. “Coine,” she said, laying her
hand on the dortor’s arm; “come, my poor lioy.
“Poor boy! Me a poor lxiy!” Nomotaer ever had
said snch kind, pitying words to him. He took the
medicine quietly, and then looked up again into
the calm, motherly face of his nurse. She started,
and smiled, and then said:
“So, so, my boy; why you are better, louve
been most awfully sick, my boy,” she went
on to say; “but you are better now. Come, now
don’t ask any questions; turn over and go to sleep,
and the doctor obeyed her like a tired little child.
Day after day, Abel passed the time away watch
ing that calm, sweet-faced old lady moving around
the room like an angel of mercy, placing every
thing in order; or listening to the low clicking of
the watch on the nail. Sometimes she would turn
the blinds so the doctor could look out, and the sun
shine would peep in like a halo from heaven: and
two or three times a day Charles Bottsford would
come in and sit ail hour with him, talking or read
ing to the doctor, yet never allowing Abel to talk,
or even whisper. Charley told the doctor hi>w very
ill he had been; how for weeks his life had been
despaired of—gave him the unpleasant information
that it would lie a long time before he would
lie able to leave his room, and that then
it would probably be with an unsightly scar,
where that unlucky bullet found its way.
“What bullet?”
“How should I know?” said Bottsford. “How
can I tell what particular bullet it was? I suppose
I ought to tell you that you were found the morn
ing after Sada Sands’ trial, lying in a pool of frozen
blood, and taken up for dead in front of this kind
old lady’s door.” It all came to Algernon then like
a flash of sunlight in the midst of gloom. “Where
Is Three-Fingered Joe?” he asked.
“Gone South. Why do you ask ?”
“Oh, nothing particular. How long has he been
gone?”
“He left a month ago—it mav be longen it was
i ("y0^ ^ •
“And where is Mrs. Sands?
“Oh, she’s at the Grove.
“Weufvouil learn soon enough You left her at
the Star Hotel—where should she be but there.
“And is she there?”
“Answer me, in God’s name, if you value my
friendship, Charley Bottsford; tell me where is
^don’t want to excite you, Aliel.” said Botts
ford, gravely. “You have asked me often before
a ' J “A t truthful answer is the only thing that will let
me rest. Suspense is the worst excitement I can
ha “Then the blame be upon your own head if you
will hoar it. The morning that you were found al
most dead in the street, Mrs. Spriggs went up to
Sada’s room to inform her of the misfortune that
had befallen you. The door of her room was kicked
on the inside; and when night came again and Sada
did not appear, the people of the house became
alarmed and the door was broken open.
“And was she there?” gasped the doctor, remem
bering the words of Three-Fingered Joe.
“No, not there, and the door was securely fas
tened. The room was closely searched, but no
mode of egress was discovered by which she could
have gone out, and thus, you see, the matter is
wrapt in the deepest mystery.’
“And no trace has been found" ,
“No, though I have spent in searching all the
time I could spare a. ay from you, anil Montrose
anil Em.”
“What! are they here? , , ,
“Well, yes, replied Bottsford, not here hut at
M ""Wlnit’sTthat you say! Montrose and Em at
Maple Grove!” „
“Yes; Mrs. Sands insisted upon mv sending for
them, Aliel. What a charming lady Mrs. hands is.
Charming—I should have said glorious. By the
saints, Abel, Mrs. Sands is as regal as a queen! bhe
stands above all comparison.”
“Below anything infernal!’ exclaimed Algernon,
vehemently. “Mrs. Sands is a fiend clothed m
brightness—a she-ilevil in the robes of an angel. ^
grew nervous and had relapses. “You must lie pa
tient, my poor boy,” said the kind old lady one day.
“But I cannot be; my thoughts wear me out. I
am destroyed by my will,” replied Abel.
It may seem strange that Algernon did not be
tray the name of his would-be assassin to a solitary
individual, or the lielief he li- d that not only Mad
am Batile and Three-Fingered Joe, but Mrs. Sands
herself, were connected in Sada’s disappearance.
His reason told him this would do no good and
might prevent future discoveries. He determined
to Wait. But it is tedious waiting for health that
comes so slowly as to be almost impercep'ible; to
wait for strength for the weak limlis, blood for the
nearly exhausted veins, and v^gor for the nerveless
and emaciated body. Days passed over Algernon
and brought the desired strength slowly enough.
He gradually grew lietter, however, so that he could
sit up all day. walk slowly about the room, leaning
iiixin the arm of his nurse for support, and by and
by removed into the pleasant sitting-room where
good Mrs. Brow r n would serve tea anil breakfast so
that he could be present at those social meals.
At last one bright Februarv morning Algernon
crept out into the glad sunshine, leaning on a staff
for support, bundled up in wrappings by mother
Brown’s thoughtful hands. The streets were dry,
the birds hopped here and there, among the yet
leafless branches of the trees that ornamented the
sidewalks. How new and bright everything seem
ed to him after his long imprisonment! One looks
upon everything with so much fresher, more sensi
tive vision after a long sickness; he looks upon the
beautiful face of Nature as he did when a child, be
fore his soul's vision becomes dimmed from its con
tact w’ith the world.
He slowly wended his way to the Star Hotel;
when he reached the steps he was completely tired
out.
^ “What, that you, doctor Aliel?” inquired Mr.
Sprigg, as his eyes rested upon Algernon’s pale
countenance and tottering form.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” replied the doctor. “I
don't think I’ve quite lost my identity, although
they do say, it was a very narrow escape.”
“Mighty narrow, powerful narrow escape, doctor
Abel. Came plaguey nigh on to winkin' out, I guess
you did. But come in. How deuced pale you do
look. Come into the sittin’ room, thars a fire thar,
an’ you might catch cold, maybe, sittin’ thar in the
bar room, whar ther kitchen gal's just been mop-
pin’.”
Algernon obeying, found the sitting room in dis
order; Mrs. Sprigg, in a ilirty wrapper with a slip
shod foot upon the rocker of the baby’s cradle and
a dime novel in her h»\nd; two little Spriggs, with
faces suggestive of molasses and mother earth, quar
reling among the ashes on the hearth.
Polly Ann threw down the yellowback, screamed
to Benjamin Franklin and George Washington to
“git outeu the ashes and let the gentleman come to
the fire, and to take the soap-dish outer that cheer
and wipe it with the baby’s petticoat there, for the
doctor to set down in. Well, you do look awful,”
she said, when she had scolded the children till she
was out of breath and had turned to examine Dr.
Abel’s appearance.
The doctor assented and Mrs. Sprigg jogged the
cradle harder and continued:
“You’ll never git over the looks of that scar, I
know. Its ruined what little beauty you used to
have. Ef yer had put on some of Mother Emery’s
salve, thar never would have been left a mark as big
as a pin scratch. When George Washington was
about six months old ”
Impossible to say what miraculous circumstance
Mrs. Sprigg was about to relate, for at that very
moment, the two hopeful Spriggs upon the hearth
ended a quarrel that had lieen in the process of de
velopment for a long time, by the eldest throwing a
handful of soot and ashes in the eyes of the younger.
His cries awoKe the infant Sprigg from her
slumber, and in the general discord that followed,
Mrs. Sprigg and her hopeful children decamped for
the kitchen, where the two young ones underwent
vigorous spanking to judge from their yells.
•‘You’re come, I suppose, to hear about that
\oung woman you left here. Dr. Abel,” said .lack
Sprigg, when they were alone.
The ilix'tor replied that he had.
vJULiU-I’il.bave calleil round to see you ’bout it,
ther prime stuff oftener than ustfa'i, yOii
bigger quantities. Tell you what, doctor, ’twouldn t
do to keep a tavern and turn off my liquor custom
ers. Perhaps you’d like a glass of the prime stuff.
Only six cents a glass.”
The doctor re-pectfully declined the invitation,
and Jack Sprigg proceeded:
“I spose you have heam all the circumstances of
ther case. "Deuced funny, anyhow; an’ ther whole
towns lieen in a mighty fermentation ’bout it. At
this point of the recital, Mr. Sprigg, lit a cigar and
gave several energetic whiffs.
“No, I have not heard all about it,” said Abel.
“Well, that’s funny, why didn’t you?”
“Why sir, from the very fact that I saw no one
to inform me. Mrs. Brown is a woman who at
tends strictly to her own business, and I scarcely
saw any onejliesides her.”
“Well, that’s deuced funny; havnt you seen
Bottsford?” ,
“Yes, but ho had too much regard for my ner
vous condition to tell me a great deal. He only
gave me the general facte in the case. I want to
hear the perticulars.” . ,, . „
“Well ” said Mr. Sprigg straightening himself up
in his chair, “I’ll just begin at ther beginning, anil
give you all of the particulars. If you remember
right, and if I do, you brought Miss Sands here,
’bout'two o’clock in tho afternoon, and asked for a
private room for her, and I gave her No. lo for her
use.”
“Well.” .
“Yes. wall; you wished her dinner carried up to
her. Polly Ann tended to that. You was in Miss
Sands’ room par t of the afternoon, and left ’bout
dark for ther jaii to see ther ypung Irish gal who
give herself up that afternoon.”
“Well, yes.” .
“Wall, so far, so good. E ght o’clock that night,
Polly Aim went to t ike up some tea and crackers to
ther young gal. She wrapped at the door and was
answered by Miss Sands, who said she didn t want
completely bewildered, and put his hand up
forehead, in thought.
“You say the door was locked?”
“Yes.”
“Where was the key?”
“Lying on ther table at ther head of ther lied.”
“You are sure of it?”
“I reckon as how I am, by mighty. You see it
seems strange to me why she didn't let ther key
stay in ther lock.”
Abel thought of it at the time; he started to his
feet as a uew light broke upon his mind.
“Where are you going, Dr. Abel?” said Jack
Sprigg, as the doet.«r moved towards the door,
and went out into the hall.
No. 11 was the room, he doubted not, had been
occupied by Madame Batile; the key was in the
door of No. ii, and Algernon secured it.
“Now where’s the key of No. lo?” asked the doc
tor?”
Jack Sprigg looked perfectly astounded,
“What do you want with it?” Jack asked.
“I want it. Where is it?”
Mr. Sprigg went into the room they hud just va
cated, and found the article called for in the table
drawer. They were tmth common brass door keys.
Aliel held them up and looked at them together;
then separately, then together again. They were
both exactly alike. Algernon did not know wheth
er the same thoughts passed through Jack's mind
as occupied his own; the doctor only knew that
Jack turned pule and stammered as Aliel asked him
who occupied No. li on the night Sada Sands dis
appeared.
“I—I—I don’t ”
“You are going to say you don’t know, Mr. Sprigg”
said the doctor, advancing to where Jack stood,
and laying his hand on his shoulder. “Save your
self that siu and answer me truly. Did not a wo
man by the name of Madame Batile oecupy that
room on the night to whieli I refer?”
Sprigg’s face turned so white it was fairly livid;
he shrank from the doctor’s grasp, and trembled m
every limb,
“Answer me,” said Abel, sternly. “I know the
truth. Deny or attempt to deceive me, and as sure
as you breathe and live I will have you and your
wife arrested as confederates in this abduction.”
“Duction! Don’t Dr. Abel, for the . Lord’s sake,
don’t. Polly Ann is as innocent—”
“Innocent!” shouted Algernon. “How can you
prove that she is innocent? Mr. Sprigg, dare you
deny that your wife received ten dollars to allow
Madame Batile to oecupy this room, No. n on the
night in question, and keep her presence here a pro-
found secret?”
“Mercy, dix-tor, for the Lord's sake mercy!”
gasped Mr. Sprigg.
“On one condition only.”
“And what may that condition be?” questioned
the trembling man, anxiety depicted upon every
feature of his countenance.
"That you put away all your artfulness and de
ception. and tell me honestly all that you know
alxiut this matter.”
“All ther is?”
“Yes, every word. And if you deal honestly in
the matter it will be a great deal better and easier
for you.”
“And you will not let what I say appear agin us,
doctor? I hail nothing to do in ther matter. Pol
ly Ann ”
“Oh, yes, you are following old Adam’s exam
ple; he threw all the blame on Eve's shoulders.”
“As true as my name is Jack Sprigg, it’s ther
truth I’m telling you, said Mr. Sprigg earnestly.
“It was Polly Ann, that was to blame and not me.
1 told her she did ther wrong thing, and that she’d
git us Ixith int i trouble. But she didn’t mean anv
harm. She wouldn’t hurt a hair of Miss Sada s
head fur all ther world. Polly Ann is jist like all
ther other women. She loves money. She didn’t
know as tj^ke would be any harm in letting Mad
ame Batil^nave ther room; if she had, she never
would, you may depend. ”
“All this is very well for you to say, Mr. Sprigg,”
replied Abel somewhat mockingly.
“Well, doctor, 1 didn’t mean to say nothing on
Polly Ann’s ’count ’bout this. Every man oughter
love his wife; for I love my Polly Ann and would a
plaguey sight rather bring myself out than her.”
Here the sweat came out in big drops all over his
Dr" Abel Jp- oaoed the hall back and forth several
“Now, Mr. Sprigg,” said Algernon, looking the
man steadily in the eye. “If you don’t want Mrs.
Sprigg brought out in earnest, do the right thing
by me, and I will only use your testimony so far as
may he necessary in bringing this black business to
light.”
“And you will not git us into any trouble?
The doctor gave the man his hand that he would
not; and. after loading the way back to the sitting
room, Mr. Sprigg closed the door, motioned him to
a seat, and mopping his face with a big red hand
kerchief, thus liegan.
(To be Continued.)
PERSONALS.
WHAT PEOPLE ARE BOISG AND SATING
ALL OVER THE WORLD.
Charles Bottsford arose and stood before the doc
tor, his face white with passion, Ins black eyes glar
ing with suppressed rage.
“Of whomare you speaking? he said,hoarse with
indignation. “Not of Madaline Sands,^ the purest
and noblest woman beneath God s sun.
“Rather,” returned Abel, the basest, blackef t-
^Charles Bottsford stood with almost uncontrolla-
passion, his hands clenched, his teeth set. Finally
he softened down and said more gently,
“Your illness has impaired your reason. Abel.
“Perhaps it has,” replied the doctor, yet I speak
the truth.” .. , „
“And you feel yourself responsible tor all you
say;
Most assureilly I ilo, sir.
“Then, ill or not, though you be Doctor Algernon
Aliel. I will never befriend you again until you
take back that base assertion you have just uttered,
Mr. Faucett, the blind member «f tho British
Parliament, rides on horsebeck at a gallop, skates
and climbs mountains.
Mrs. McK Holliday, mother of Gov. Holliday,
died at Winchester, Va., yesterday, age i eighty-
one. The Governor was in Winchester at the time.
Senator Thurman, who has arrived in Washing
ton tells an interviewer that he doesn’t regard the
result in Ohio as a rebuke to the Democrats in Con
gress, nor does he believe there is anything 'in the
situation to alarm the Democrats.
President Hayes is said to have expressed the be
lief that Grant will be his successor in th« White
House He Ls also accredited with intimating that
it will be well to pass a general law giving all ex-
Presidents a salary of $20,000 a year.
The Rev. D. S. Helton, a Baptist preacher of
, , . Roane county, Tenn., is SS years old but he can
any supper. Pollv Ann come clown and did not go bring a squirrel from the top of the tallest free in
near her till ther next morning. No answer being ninety-nine rifle shots out of a hundred. He had
give when Polly Ann knocked, she thought may- eighteen sons in the civil war, sixteen in the Union
Ixi she might be sieepin’: but when night come, and ^ an d two in tho rebel army.
nothing was seen of Miss Sands, we all become , pr je.s t asked of a condemned criminal in a Paris
skerred, and broke doun then d«H, . , jail: “What kind of a conscience have you?” “It
Go on, said Algernon, for Mr. >1 g 0 P> is as good as new,” replied the prisoner, “for I have
in a tantalizing way. -
“Well, thar was; thar was lots of us, who went
into her room. Stop, let me count, thar was Polly
Ann, an’ me, au’ Squire Allen, an’ Judge Bennett,
an’ two or three other fellers. ’
“Very well.” . , ,
“Yes we all went into ther nest, but the bird had
flowed. Deuced funny, wasn't it Mr. Abel:”
“No sign of anybody; and the door was locked?”
“Yes, on the iosule ”
“How did the room look? As if it hail lieen oc
cupied long? Was the bed dis urbedf'
“Yes tumbled a little in ther middle.”
“And were there any articles belonging to Miss
Sands any where to be found?”
“Only a pair of gloves. Her
ired man appeared before a magistrate,
with some trivial offence. The latter said
Only a pair of gloves. Her bo-met was gone
and her shawl. Don't know whar they was. They
want in ther room. Deuced funny, wasn’t it doc
tor?”
,, Allel ± wlll 11C)C1 , o „ ... “Was there but one door to the room?
‘‘I^nieaimisTsay ” he replied, with an oath, “von Like back that base assertion you have just uttered,” “No, only one^lead ng into ther hall.
will never see Sada Sands again if the plot is dis-| said BottsforiL “Yes,\iv m glity, I am. You cim come up and
covered its plotters are not to lie foiled.” “Charley, don't speak to me, »e nave ue.n f
“Back viliian,” exclaimed the doctor, pushing j friends, let-that.pas* an^toowf- i The Victor aisonteil, and although very weak,
him off. , .. I the bond that bound us, and now only au aaaiow 1 j (Q ;ls< , emlin} , the stairs. Although it took
His face grew fairly livid, he muttered an oath , edgment from you can restore it. a cons durable length of tune, and required a great
and sprang before Abel again. I Bottsford strode from the room and* slammed the amoun fc Q f exertion to do so.
‘Til tell you the whole, lie said, ^et it be a conso- j door as he went out. The doctor sank back trem- “Thar Doctor Abel, tha :? s ther room, here on
I SS 1 £ ITS! £
Sroom.
jail:
is as ^
never used it.”
“Your son, mailanie, persists in doing nothing,
says the director. “Then,” replies the woman, by
no means disconcerted, “you should give him the
prize for perseverance. ”
A colors
charged wit
to the man: “You can go now. but Jet me warn you
never to appear here again.” The man replied with
a broad grin; “1 wouldn't be hare dis time, only.de
constable fotch.me.”
Hawksville, Ky., brags of a man who doesn't
care for dogs at all when he's sober, but when lies
drunk has a mania to own all the dogs 111 the coun
try He will ask a neighbor to give him his dog.
If he won’t give it. the man tries to buy it: if the
other won’t sell it. the first steals it. He lias thus
lieen known to collect 150 dogs m a week s spree and
feeils them liberally till he gets sober.
Edward Whymper, the hero of the Matterhorn,
has just left England for South America, with -
account ! oie i«buu, . . he had no distinct recollection. A flash, a burning
left her Madam Batile was in the same house pain, then sudden darkness and oblivion.
with her" and although part tions might separate
>iil(l not he shut
Algernon Alieh saw ine uugiii. Charles Hottstora ms enemy, r ,«.in F.vervtliin
er. glare in the uncertain light. O f whatfoflowed action, his own .words. He confessed it; he '.X'diS^was t ;
them h he feaTnwrt as if danger c .uld not he shut
nnt’hvbolte or bars. So strong whs this feeling
thatch' went back to cautio = Sada onee more
NPdit was fast settling down over the earth, and
famus wei <■ lie ng lit the hall As he approached
lamps wen . tholl , r lt |, e saw a black
the door next t<> r'vtaa s, ue f
dress flutter in the half-open dooi of Muilum ua
tile’s room. Abel cautioned Sada agam^
CHAPTER XVI.
So far as his own consciousness was concerned,
buried hfafacehi hfa piUow and wept, nor, because very much as it did wh „ the doctor was therewith , We ,. ins was consulting physician during the last
bunea nis lace in nas piuow an y , g Toe stove stood very near the centre of ihe fljness of Gen. George Washington,
of one, tmt many things He was weaK he was windows, both fas eneddown
childish, and his tears did hun good, for they_car , - that all the
view to attempting the ascent of some of the Auiles.
He has with him two of the gu iles the Carrells,
who accompanied him in his ascent of the Matter
horn.
Dr. French Weems died in Louisville, Nov. 21, at
While a resident of Anaheim, Cal., was walking
in one of the orange groves of Los Angeles the
other day he saw on the liiulis of one of the trees
v what looked like a ripe orange. He plucked it, but
water 1 found that instead of an orange it was nine yellow
‘ j bats clinging together, hea ls downward. Th9y
^ j were in a semi-dormant sta’e and the spherical form
morning in a aarxenea cauawr, ior ms conn on,. me '.■"'”1“ ” —rr j ! aoei wmi, hi-iuu <u»i cMimum ■ lo into which they hail crowded themselves and their
in a new state of existence, so strange seemed every- Sada’s account prevented him ^from regaining roomj they were papered, andthe floor was^ cover- j co j or ma («. them look exactly like a ripe orange to
“ '' " ' ’ 1 * * "" ‘ ‘" rn * careless observer.
Don’teiDen vour door to an v one until I return. thing aroun l him. Ho tried to raise his arms, hut p,is strength as fast as he would otherwise have e( t with a cheap rag earpet. The doctor sat down
-ain she promised compliance; and yet again, ere t he ,-tTort only produced a sense of utter weariness. <j one . He was in too much haste to get well. He
had proceeded a dozen sieps the s .me present!-