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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
MARY ANDERSON
Peacock the Mineral
ogist
THU KAI) LI CK OF A VOI AG
SOUTH FRA' CURL,.
BY CHARLES T. PECK.
CHAPTER XVI.
After a tiresome and weary walk they
reached the old man's house, where Peacock
expected to remain. He was still ahead of
Mary as '.hey approached the house. The old
mountaineer and bis family were delighted
to see him. The girl who expected to be his
wife wts or pretended to be very bashful,
but she made out to simper her joy at seeing
him. Mary came up and they all stared at
her, but said little. Peacock said:
“I want you to take charge of this lady,
and I have some sad news for you ”
“What is it, squi.e,’' exclaimed the old
man.
“Why, sir, we met with a terrible accident.
Our wagon tumbled down the precipice and
we baieiy escaped with our lives by jumping,
but the driver and horses are killed. Our
trunks aie piled among the rocks and brush.”
They left Mary with the “women folk-',” as
he called them and he and Peacock went to
the scene of disaster. The women soon began
to question Mary and to try and find out ali
about her. Mary soon knew what her future
was to be and had but little to say to their
questions. She did not know but what Pea
cock had two or three wive3 already in that
countrv, from the general familiarity tiiat
seemed to exist between him and the people:
for this reason she was cautious and kept her
self-possession. When they asked her “il
she and the squire was km?” she merely re
plied, “distantly related.” They wanted to
know, ‘ if he had fetched her all the way
there?”
“Yes, to spend the summer or a part of it
with him and you?”
They exhausted their efforts in “pumping”
her, for she told as little as possible. The
house was built of log-', with two small
rooms. The floor was made of hewed slabs:
the sides of the house were daubed with mud:
plenty of open cracks for the air, which was
a needed relief. One room was kitchen and
eating room; the other they slept in.
Peacock and his boon companion arrived
at the fatal place, and after examining the
poor driver found him dead beyond a doubt.
The moon was shining bright and the two
scale 1 themselves on a log and begin to dis-
c si the best way of disposing of the body.
The old ya 1 oo sr.ys:
“I have a quart of the best corn whiskey
you ever tasted n all your eombustibe life,
and what is be.ter than all, hit never paid
the govi r’ment a penny ’a worth of revenue
If you can stand it without sleep I can.
Drink plenty of this ar and you can. VVt
now will go about two miles further, where
thar is an old man that makes coffins. YVe
will make a contract with him to bury this
poor fellow.”
Peacock suggested they had better exam
ine his pockets to see it he had money to pay
the expenses.
The old man knew a short cut down the
precipice.
They found some letters and five dollars in
the man’s pockets.
“This will bury him without interfering
with our money,” says Peacock.
After taking a long drink from the quart
bottle, they started to see the old man; got
to his house about ten o’clock, roused him up
and told the sad story.
The man seemed sorry aiid agreed to make
the coffin and bury him in his family grave
yard.
Peacock considered all responsibility now
off his hands, paid the charge of two dollars,
then he and his friend left and went a mile
further into a deep ravine where they found
hid among the brush a "wil i cat distillery.”
The men La 1 a lire and were hard at work.
The old mountaineer was one of the proprie
tors, so they did not fear the man he brought
with him, but got down their bottles and an
old greasy deck of cards, which looked like
they had been through the war. They begar
to gamble at five cents on the corner, drink
ing hard all the time.
In the morning Peacock looked as mean as
he in reality was when the two started, stag
gering towards home for their breakfast.
When they got to the house they found Mary
in one of their filthy beds, sick, she said, of a
headache, but if oue could have seen that
poor, broken heart!
Peacock knew his own baseness and c eli
knew the cause of Mary’s illness. It was not
kindness, nor any humane feeliug which
prompted him to offer to do anything to re
lieve tier pain. There was that three thous
and dollars he had not yet clutched and she
must not die .yet, so he begin to bathe her
head and expressing words of sympathy-, but
she knew too well uow the base hypocrisy in
his soul. She complained no more nor said
ought of the reeking fumes of tobacco or the
stench of whiskey tnat poisoned the air of
the den she was in. When he proposed for
her to walk out with him, she gladly accepted
his invitation.
“To be murdered outright would be better
than what I see ami feel here;” she resolved
as a means of safety not to let him have the
remotest idea of her thoughts and intentions,
she only asked him,
“How could you treat me in this way?
Why did you have the heart to deceive me
thus? Only look at the creatures you have
placed me with! Will you tell me what you
intend by being here/ I hope you have uot
intended giving up civilization to live among
brutes?” •
“I will tell you, Mary, I will go to a little
house I have built near here, for the purpose
of spending the summer and will try to do
my best while 1 ain here, but where we will
go hereafter I don’t know.”
“Then, Mr. Peacock, if it is poverty that
brings you here, why did you hesitate to tell
me. Yon must have a poor opinion of an
honorable woman if you think she would
place obstacles in your way. If you had
spoken outright and honest ly you would have
saved me and perhaps yourself from some
disquieting thoughts and feelings. If you
have a house ready or not ready, let us go
immediately to it. I had rather lay on the
bare ground, with the trees for a covering,
thaUjtp see or hear those monsters in human
shape^those caricatures of humanity; besides,
their everlasting questioning distracts me,
and the girl talks as if she expected to be
your wife. At any rate, she does not know
our relationship. She thinks I am your sister
and I said nothing to the contrary.”
“Well, now, Marv, you have told me some-
trouble and sorrow at times, but the trouble
and sorrow were visitations from On high,
not the work of a fiend in human shape. She
felt now there was no‘hope. “I can never
distress those at h -me by letting them know
the depth of my degradation, and it will dis
tress them f 1 do not write, and oh! how can
l write lies?”
As she -at with clasped hands and stream
ing ev« s she did not notice the lap-e of time
until roused by the scream of an owl and lest
Peacock should come and fin 1 her in her mis
ery, she rose up in great terror and began
fixing up the few things the mountaineer hod
I laced there, but Peacock and the men with
the trunks came late, and he saw nothing
more thau her pale face and quiet manner,
never dreaming of the storm of agony that
had passed over her. He on his way to the
mountain, concluded his best way would be
to acknowledge Mary to be his wife to them.
Fiend as he was, he thought that it would be
best not to go too far.
It was like another leave-tak ng, so heart
breaking was it to Mary to op-11 the trunks
and look upon those tokens of affection from
the loved ones so far away. But the honora
ble Mr. Peacock only considere I them as con
ducing to hiscomfoit, wished there had been
more. “The handsome rug was just the
thing for him to rest on: the pretty curtains
would keep the sun from shining too bright
'hrough that semblance of a window where
he liked to sit ” Mary soon had a pretty and
comfortable room and she thought it always
looked lighter whenever Peacock left it and
darker when he can e in. After the old
mountaineer and bis boys had put the trunks
in the house, the old fellow took Peacock off
i little distance and wanted to know what
kin tnat woman was to him?
Peacock tried to evade answering, but the
yahoo was resolute, and at list he had to tell
him she was his wife.
The old man was furious.
“And you had the dog in you to go and
marry another wife atnagofi my datter, did
you?”
Peacock said:
“Now, look here, old mas, there is no use
in your taking on in such a vtsy. I am going
to get a divorce from this one. I have got it,
but I want to get some money first from her,
then I will marry your daughter.”
“Peacock, I know you are telling a lie. I
have got sense enough to know that. You
bail it going to do no sieh thing ”
“Now, let m9 teil you, old man, I will
make it all right with your daughter, and I
will tell you some plans how we can make
ots of money?'’
“Well Peacock if you can do that ar thing,
likely we can agree yit, go on and let me
h nr you.”
“Well old man it is simply this, I under
stand counterfeiting to perfection, and I un
derstand the art of making whiskey, and we
will go in partnership in both, and equallly
divide the profit*.”
“•Fell Mr. Peicock I understand making
whiskey. I don’t understand making money,
how do you go about hit?”
‘ Well old man I can take this soft clay
and make an impression of a silver dollar.
I can make silver that could uot be detected
only by an expert.” They shook hands on it
and returned to the house good friends. If
Mr. Peacock could have found Mary exhaust
ed by hard work he would have had a more
complacent feeling It made him mad to see
how easily she had succeeded in the arrange
ment of the house, the supper that was being
cooked from the lately purchased cooking
utensils, had a savory smell, the biscuit look
ed white and crisp. Peacock of course invit
ed his friend to partake w th them, and this
was Mary’s company and the first meal in
her bridal home. Soon after, Peacock and
vahoo left; Mary felt it was a release. YVhnt
her future was to be was not hard to guess,
"so young and to ba thus wrecked. No hope,
nothing but a wretched future.”
Mr. Peacock did not return home until late
in the night, or rather early in the morning.
He had been with a set of roughs plotting how
they could manage to make their ’fortunes.
When he returned Mary did not care to ask
him any questions, she thought it likely he
was a wo-.-e man than any of his associates,
she knew he was after no good. After break
fast he left, saying it would be late before he
returned. So suspicious had she grown of
him, she feared he was endeavouring in some
wav to entrap her.
During the morning she took a walk to see
something of the locality, and hoping to see
a better specimen of people than she had
seen, she found a pretty creek lined with
pretty moss-covered rocks and beautiful ever
greens and sat. down by the side of the creek
and gathered up little stones and pretty flow
ers. At some distance she saw several little
girls pi lying. She went to them and her
kind tone and gentle manner soon vvoa their
confi lin e; she interested herseif in their lit
tle plays a"d they asked her where she came
from. Mary answered all their childish ques
tions patiently and kindly. Oue said, “oh
you are the new woman that has come here
to live.” And Mary knew now she had teen
spoken of, “but in what way” she could not
tell. Then she said, “you see so few strang
ers here no wonder you heard of our arrival.”
They were an uncouth et, but she was glad
to meet them. One of the children was worse
dressed than the o; hers, but her fan* evinc
ed more intelligence, and she would have
been beautiful had she received the benefits
of a cultured mind and manners. Mary ask
ed her where she lived.
“Only a little way down the creek rna’tn.”
she said.
“\\ r hat business does your mother an : fath
er follow?”
“They don’t do much, but work about the
house 2 ”
“Are they crippled or sick?”
“Oh no ma’m, they are deaf and dumb,
they have some land and a cow. I milk the
cow. ”
“YYhat is your name?’’
“SalPe ma’m. I get mighty lonesome at
home, there is no child but me, and I get tir
ed talking on my fingers.”
“Did yoa ever go to school?”
“No ma’m, but I hope some day I will
get to g ” j
“YVould you like to have some nice clothes
and learn to read?”
“Oh yes ma’m I would real like that.”
Mary said she would go and see her moth
er, and they walked on when the others
scampered off feeling aggravated that they
were not more noticed too. They gave vent
to their ill nature in shouis of derision.
Mary walked with iSallie to her father’s
cabin, and told the child to tell them who
she was and how they met; this was soon
d me and the motliei told Sally to ask her in
the house. Mary went in and was glad to
THE WHITE LILY.
A Story of the West.
BY CHARLES E. McDANIEL.
“Take her, Antohe, take her. Yes, give
me the gold, and you may marrv the little
Zoe.”
.“The fa her would sacrifice his daughter at
mammon's shrine, would sell her to the Mex
ican robber for gold! Holy Virgtui how
could humanity become so hardened as th s!
1 shuddered at the deed the unnatural fat' er
had done. 1 told myself he was lost, lost!
But the little Zee was not to be the robber
captain’s bride. God forbid! I listened to
the conversation that followed in the old oul-
cided then to be called Maurice instead of
Will, in the future; and I told them my name
was Maurice Robertson.”
“And vour watch, TVili, which an o’.d
trapper said he found near your body on the
1 r iris*’’
"My watch—Sinclair Lyman wore it; we
had exchanged that morning."
“It is poor Sinclair who sleeps in the
watery grave,” said Frank.
• * * * * * *
“No, Will, it cannot be; I shall never re
write on a slip of paper if they do not prefer
trusting to memory. Each player invents an
initial sentence, using the letters of one of the
names. This sentence may be humorous or
sensible, complimentary or the reverse, and
can sometimes be made to fit exceed ngly
well. As specimens, a few impromptu sen-
ences are given on the actual names of some
of the original players: Easter Eggs. Ex
quisite E egauce, Fairy Priuee, Fried pork,
What Nonsense, Saucy Tell-Tale, Goodness
Brings Blessings. When ali have prepared
one or more sentences, the l ader begins by
CHAPTER VI.
The interior of the Spaniard’s home pre
sented an aspect comfortable, if not cheer ul.
house, and laid my plans accordingly.
“When the two rode forth a while later | turn to A .” For fear the miners might | a (dressing any person he pleases with a re-
frorn S.in'a Fe, I followed on their tracks. I I tire of waiting, and move on without us, i IU ark formed upon his initials and each of
alone, followed after them until their strong- j leaving us to travel the unknown wilds with the other players follows his example, also
hold in the hdls was reached, and the next : no guide to point out the course, Frank had j usinv the same letters. This attack is kept
in a surprising degree to one that-had noted night, with the help of God’s merciful arm, I j ridden on to the camp. I had promised to ; up indiscriminately onthe person addressed
the exterior appearance. True, the furniture succeeded in snatching Margarita’s child j follow in a few moments—just as soon as I by ] ea der, until he can answer the person
of the small, .rude apartment into which we from their polluting hands. , could exchange a few moie words with, and .. .. ■
— “I left Mexico and came here, and here i bid farewell to my friend Will Robertson.
has been our home ever siuce. You remem-j Farewell! How sad the word! And must
ber the night, senor, 1 rescued you from the ! I speak it so soon after the joyful meeting?
Mexicans? Well, that was the same night Yes, it must be. Tne old days were not to
were conducted, was of the scantiest kind,
consisting only of two or three chairs with
buffalo-hide bottoms, a small and not overly -
smooth table, a kind of washstand with pail
and pan, a lookingglass hanging upon the
upon which I followed the robbers. I was
rail, and one tied. Yet there was a neatness even then, when I came upon you in the
in the arrangmet.t of things—the touch of power of y rnr dastardly assailants, histeu-
feminine hands—that lent to the room a ; mg to procure a horse for this purpose. 1
cheerful, home-1 ke appearance and recalled | have neither seen nor heard anything of the
to mv mind the old Missouri m’s eulogy of unfortunate man since that night. Whether
the Spaniard’s “leetle gal. My eves rested I he is still with the band of outlaws I know
upon the table which stood to the right of i not. 1 do know, though, that one man to
where 1 sat, within an arm’s reach. It held j g°ld has proven a curse is Robin
things which told of a refiuement that seemed j fe e l.”
out of place in the lone house in these uuciv- I Miguel Diaz ceased speaking and silence
ilized wilds—writing materials and quite a j Yell upon the three occupants of the little
number of books, among which I noticed
small, uicely bound volume of the Scriptures.
But there was something else on the table,
and I started with surprise when I saw them
—several sketches and five or six half-used
crayons I picked up one of : he sketches and
filled with wonder, examined it. It was the
Spaniard's home. There was the '‘mead” of
semicircular shape, with i«s few tall trees,
the rude house with its ruder chimney and
uneven doorways, partly concealed behind
the tree-trunks, rhe enclosure with its shelter
and mustang, the rugged bluff rising high
on three sides and frowning down on the
little home below arid the streamlet that
danced along in the foreground. The work
was crude but plainly told of genius in ;he
artist. I think my eyes must have h i t in
them a look of enquiry when I glanced from
the sketch to the Spaniard's face, for he
broke off in his conversation with Frank
Hamilton about other days in Santa Fe, and
turning to me, said:
“Ah, senor, you look at the pictures. That
is the work of my little Zoe. A young man,
like you, senor. an American, was her tutor
in the art. He fell into the hands of the red
men and was taken to their village, where
he would have been sacrificed to the god
these uncivilized souls worship had I not by
a strange combination of circumstances been
alfe to rescue him. The fever was upon him
—he was delirious when I brought him here
to my home. At one time I thought Don
Mauricio would never recover, so Dear to
death’s door did he appro ich, but thanks
to God! the little Zoe and I finally succeeded
in nursing him back to life and health again.
He is not here to-night, the vonng senor, but
at the settlement, and will return in the
mor.iing It wt s Don Mauricio that taught
the iittle Zoe to sketch.”
“I suppose you mem your daughter by
Zoe, Miguel?” said Frank. “But didn’t you
once tell me you had no child?”
“Si senor, so I did. She is not really my
child although I call ner my little Zoe and
often speak of her as my daughter. She is
my niece, the child of my sainted sister,
Margarita. My sister bestowed her affections
on an object that proved wholly unworthy—
one from your own country, senor. and the
like of whom I hope do not infest your land
to any great extent. They met at Socorro,
as he passed through on his wa v to Santa Fe.
He loved her, or professed to lov her, and
only a few weeks elapsed after their first
meeting till they were man and wife. He
was not a poor man at his marriage, which
itself placed in his hands a fortune not to be
despised. Fora few years everything moved
along smoothly enough. Fortune’s smi'es
were bestowed on him and prosperity daily
added to his wealth. Margarita was happy.
But alas, as is too often the case he grew too
greedy of gain. He became a perfect miser,
forgot wife, child, duty, forgot everything
save his love for the gold, his god Mammon,
that he worshiped with his whole soul. He
finally went stark mad and was known about
Socorro as the monomaniac. Then came the
di ath of his wife, my gentle sister Margarita.
Broken in spirit, weary of the life that had
been turned into a torment by the unkind,
often brutal trea'ment of her husband, she
was given r t md peace in that brig: te t
and happiest i f all homes, heaven. Her chi.d,
Zoe, was then in her tenth year. The hus
band disappeared from Socorro ■ hortly after
his unfortunate wife’s death. Where he van
ished to was a mystery until more than two
years later, when chance t ‘Id me of his and
the little Zoe’s whereabouts It was an*old
trapper that 1 met in Santa Fe that gave me
the information. S -nor Luis, for that was
the trapper's n im°, h id but lately been in
the power of a band of Mexican robbers that
then infested the country north of Santa Fe.
After being held captive for one night he
was given his liberty by these lawless des
perados, minus his carbine, pistols and a
small sum of money he had previously real
ized from the sale of some beaver pelts at
S . Then senor Luis told of one Amer
ican who was with the band of outlaws, a
crazy man who diu nothing but talk about
the gold pieces he carried around in h s
hands and with which he placed as the child
plays with its toys, and of a little girl called
Zoe, to whom he man bad spoken as his
daughter. I nee led no furiher information
to know that this was the husband and child
of poor Margarita. I thought what would
be the life of Zoe if left to such evil surround
ings, and I made a vow to rescue her from
the hands of her. accursed father find the
threatened danger or spend a life in the
attempt. Much danger I passed through,
more than once narrowly escaping death, in
this, as it appeared for a long time, vain en
deavor. But G id in his mercy had not for- ,
gotten .Margarita’s little Z ie. Time wore on. j
I kept my eyes open and persevered. One |
night I chanced to attend a fandango in
Santa Fe. 1 was just quitting the gay scene
room.
I knew of the whereabouts of Robin S eel
if no other mortal did. His last words that
came to my ears that afternooii as I rode
away from his hut, “fake her, Antone, take
her! Gold is my child—not Z .e!” were uow
explained, and their horrible significance was
no longer a mystery.
Yes, I could have enlightened the Spaniard
as to the whereabouts of Zoe’s unfortunate
fathei ; and-once, during the silence that fol
lowed Miguel Diaz's last words, I was on the
point of doing so; but I thought twice ere
speaking and decided to say nothing. It
could do no possible good, where as it might
work harm to reveal what I knew. No: if
his home was never again invaded by mortal
until i spoke, the mad old man might gloat
over his “beautiful yellow gold - ’in peaceful
security from the eye of mva until called to
stand before the judgment bar.
CHAPTER VII.
The sun had climbed some distance in the
skies the next morning ere wa took our de
parture-from the Spaniard’s home. We
were standing before his door bidding fare*
well to him who had proved the kindest of
hosts, when the houfstrokes of a horse broke
on our ears. The next instant the animal
dashed into view from up the streamlet. It
was bridled and saddled, but riderless.
“The young senor has got back from the
settlement,” quietiy remarked the Spaniard.
“The little Z e went up the aroyo more than
an hour ago to meet him. She is an eai ly
riser—the little Z re—and is up with the lark
that she may gather the flowers while yet the
dew is on the them.”
“It seems,” said Frank, as we guided our
herses a few minutes later, back towards the
miner’s camp, “that we are not to have the
pie is r of meeting “the little Zoe.” Since
Rube’s praise at ihe camp last night and
what Migu ;1 Di iz told us about her, I have
a curiosity to Ab, look!”
The picture came under my eyes just as
the exclamation it caused left Frank’s lips.
YVe had left the Spaniard’s home near a
quarter of a mile behind. There was a iittle
parterre composed of several different varie
ties of beautiful wild flowers of Dame Na
ture’s own plani ing. Near its center was a
rustic seat occupied by two persons. They
had been so eened from our eyes by a small
tree covered with a net-work of vines, until
wo had approached to within some fifty or
sixty yard* of them. They had not yet dis
covered u*, so lost were they in their own
h ippy thoughts. My gaze was first attract
ed to her—Zoe’s—face. It was turned par-
tally towards us, as she sat, enrapt, gazing
with eyes of Jove up into the face of her com
panion. He was speaking some word3 in a
low, teader tone—pouring, no doubt, the old.
old story that will ever remain new and
sweet to the maidea heart, in' o her ears. A
more beautiful face my eyes had never rest
ed upon, and, for a moment my gaze was
chained to “the little Zoe” with tiie wealth
of hair as dark as the raven’s wing, and w hich
fell in wavy masses about the perfect shoul
ders, the large black eyes now filled with a
soft, tender giow, and the red, pouting lips.
“By George!” said Frank, m a low voice,
“I’ve al ■ ysadmiied the blande tvpe m re
than the brunette, but here is a Lttle dark
be mty—a little Spanish seaorita—that I
must acknowledge to be ahead of anything
I’ve yet seen— brui.ette or blonde—in our less
trop.cal land.”
The spell was broken. The face with all
its beauty no longer held the power to at
tract irresistibly mv gaze. Tho-e words
about blonde beauties in our less tropical
clime h d brought up Peiore my mind’s eye
her face—the faoe of the one woman I had
loved with my whole soui, and whom my
heart now told me I despised as the fair de
ceiver she was. I began to heap upon my
self mental reproaches that I sdouhl, for a
single moment, lose myself in admiration of a
woman’s pretty face.
“Au angel!” thought I, remembering the
old Missourian's words. “Bah! she is but a
woman, and, like all other women, has a
heart deceitful and wicked in prop, r ion as
h r face is beautiful.” My eyes lett “ihe
little Zoe’s” face and rested on her compan
ion. I started violently. My heart gave
oue great thump, then seem id to cease its
pulsations and stand still in my bosom. The
young man’s face could not be setn by us m
tiie position he occupied, but that form!
Sureiy it was familiar to my eyes! My
God, can it be A movement of my
horse snapped a dead bough that lay under
his feet, Tne two occupants of the rustic
seat w ire aroused. The young man quickly
turned his head, and 1 gazed into the face of
YY’ill Robertson!
“it is Will!” cried Frank.
“lr. is YViil!” I echoed, and then we were in
“It must be you, Will, in
be lived over again. He—my companion in
who last addressed him before another of the
players can say another sentence in the let
ters of his name, in which case the others all
turn their remarks on the one who has been
thus caught. The game then goes merrily
on. as shouts of laughter always follow the
friend, yet mj- soul told me the word came
from his heart with a different meaning from
what it once did. The image of the dark-
eyed maiden who but lately sat where I now
did, bv his side on the rustic seat, filled h s
soul. Henceforth every pul.-atii n of bis heart
must be for her—Z ie his every thought.
“No, Will, I shall never go back to A .
I said many days ago that I would not, and
I never shall. I hope, though, that you and
the beautiful Z >e may be happy there. Ten
me. YViil, do .’t you love this tropical fl over,
and intend to transplmt it in that colder
dim ? Or have I made a wrong guess?”
“Ah, A'eck, vou have read my heart. I
love -the little Z e,’ an i she is to be my wife.
I have prevailed on Diaz, too, to consent to
leave this w 11 land where one is in danger
every hour of losing his life, and make Ill's
home with us in A . You say he told
you about Zoe’s father; how mo ;ey, or rath
er : oo great a love for money, had been the
bane of his life; had made an outcast and a
madman of oue whose future was full enough
of promise. This fact would make some
think the less of his daughter, but not so with
me I love ‘the little Zoe,’ and would love
her just the same was her father 'be greatest |
an old game, "Twirl the Platter” has a new
interest when the players are called out by
initial sentences, as the effort to discover
one’s own name in some obscure remark
made by the Wirier, in order to catch the
platter before it ceases to spin, keeps every
player on the alert.—[Harper.]
Bob Ingersoll’s Methods.
A Parent Who Tried Tiiem
Without Success.
C >1. Ingersoll says he keeps a pocket book
in au open drawer and Lis children go and
help themselves to money whenever they
want it.
“They eat when they want to; they may
sleep all day if they choose and sit up all
n ght if they desire. 1 don’t try to coerce
them. I never punish, never scold. They
buy their own clo'hes anl are misters of
themselves.”
A gentleman living on M irs’ouil street, who
demon on the face of the earth. You saw the | h .s a boy timr. is full as kittenyas his father,
beauty of her face, Aleck, but not the still - 1 1 1
greater beauty of her heart. You can not
imagine how sweet and amiable she is, how
loveable is her disposition, until you have
known her. I know mother wdl love her.
She cannot help but do so, for none know
‘the little Zoe’ but to love her. You know,
Aleck, I always said I would never marry
until I found a natural woman Well, I
have found her—a perfect child of nature,
one to whom the trickeries of the toilet are
unknown, one that does not have to manu
facture beauty with paint and powder, be
fore the mirror. Yes, Aleck, you have
guessed aright: the tropical flower will be
transplanted, and the ‘little Zoe’ will be my
wife when we reach A .”
I did not speak immediately after Will had
ceased. I fell that if I did I would say some
thing that I would regret afterwards. I had
once been where he now was—dreaming of a
lovely being whose heart I thought as pure
and beautiful as her face. I bad dreamed,
and I had known the bitterness of the wak
ing. It was with difficulty I curbed the in
clination to tell my friend that the shorter
hi ; dream the less disastrous would it prove
to his after happiness. Theantipathy for all
pretty women—the bitterness against them—
that had entered my soul with the perusal of
the cruel note at the little western settlement
had never before clamored as loudly for ut
teranceasit did now; but I controlled my
feelings, and only said: “ She is beautiful,
YViil, very. I hope you will be happy at
your home in A .”
“ I know we will be happy, Aleck, but
would be still more so if you would only
come with us. Again let me beg you to give
up life ia this wild, dangerous land, where
death may be met with at any time, and go
back with us to our own civilized home.
YVhat can there be, Aleck, to hold you to this
country?”
“You might as well desist, YViil, for you
can never cause me to waver in this decision.
You ask what there i3 to hold me here. Noth
ing. This country, like any other, has
no power to attract me now; yet I have said
that I would not return again to my own
land, and I bad as well remain here as to go
elsewhere. As for one’s life being in danger
here, life is uncertain everywhere, you know.
The grim monster, Death, lurks in al! lands
for its victims; and wh it m liters it as to ;he
place where are ended the few years of this
poor, pitiable existence? Sometimes I think
the quicker the drama is played to its end
the better.”
YViil had been watchingme narrowly while
I spoke, and the faint gleam of suspicion that
had shone in his eyes seemed to have kindled
into a light of certainly ere 1 finished.
“And Myra YVdrnot,” he said still watch
ing me closely, “will yoa see her no more,
Aleck?”
“Do not mention her name, YViil,” 1 cried.
“I never wish to hear it again. If you should
ever chance to meet with Mrs. Oscar McHen
ry in the fashionable circle of A , you
may tell her for me that see has fully suc
ceeded in her admirable intention to ruin the
life of Aleck CoLton. But, YViil, I tarry too
long, perhaps. You know now why the aim
less human before you is not the same bei g
you once knew. You know the secret of that
sorrow which has wrought this change—a
change I pray God may never come over the
snirit of your dreams. But f must go. May
God bless you, ray dear friend—good by!”
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
t ie article and pondered deeply. He
knew that CoL Iugers >11 was a success at
raising children in the way they should go,
and ha thought he would try it. The bay
had caused him considerable annoyance and
he made up his mini he had not treated the
bay right, so he called him in from the street,
where he was putting soft soap on a lamp
post, in order to seethe lamp-lighter climb
it, and said to him:
“My son, I have decided to adopt a dif-
eren; course with you. Heretofore I have
been careful about giving yon money, and
have wanted to know where every cent went
to, and my supervision has no doubt been
annoying you. Now I’m going to leave my
pocket-book in an open drawer with plenty
of money in it, and you are at liberty to use
all you want without asking me. I want
you to buy anything you desire to; buy your
own clothes, and feel as th ugh the money
was yours, and that you had not got to
account for it. Just make yourself at home
now and try to have a good time.”
The boy looked up at the old gentleman,
put his hand on his head, as though he had
“got ’em sure,” and wen: out to see the
lamp-lighter climb that soft soap. The next
day the stern parent went out into the
country shooting, and returned on the mid
night train three days later. He opened the
door with a latch key, and a strange yellow
dog graboed him by the elbo w of his pants
and shook him, he said, “like the agur.”
The dog barked and chewed until the son
came down in his night shirt and called him
off. He told his father he had bought that
dog of a fireman for $11, audit was probably
the best dog bargain that had been made this
season. He said the fireman told him he
c uld find ora. that wanted that kind of a
dog.
The parent took off his pants—what the
dog had not removed—and in the hall he
stumbled over a birch bark canoe the boy
bad bough: of an Indian for $9, and an army
musket with an iron ramrod „fell down from
the corner. The boy had paid §0 dollars for
that. He had also bought himself an over
coat with a sealskin collar and cuffs, and a
complete outfit of calico shirts and silk
stockings.
In his room the parent found the marble
top of a soda fountain, a wheelbarrow and
shelf filled with all kinds of canned meats,
preserves and crackers, and a barrel of
apples. A watl tent and six pairs of blankets
were rolled up ready for camping out, aud a
buckskin shirt and a pair of corduroy pants
lay on 1 he bed ready for putting on.
Six fish-poles and a basketful of fish-lines
were ready for business, and an oyster-can
full of grub worms for bait were squirming
on the washstand. Tne old gentleman
looked the layout over, looked at his own
pocket-book in the bureau drawer, as empty
as a contribution box, an 1 said:
“Young man, timishave bjjutio flush.
YVe will no w return to specie bisis. YVaen
you want money come to ms an l 1 will give
you a nickel, an l you will tell me what yoa
intend tj buy witi it, or 1 vviii warm you.
You hear me?”—[Springfield Republican.
Games for Winter Evenings.
each others arms.
and was stepping into tie ttrtei when I j tbe flesh, and not your ghost? i exclaimed,
heard something which caused me to start as ! after my breath, wh ch vvas tor a time taken
if a shot had been fired right under my ear.
Under this veiy odd title a new and excel
lent game is described which is very popular
in Germany, aud will be equally so in Amer
ica when it becomes known.
YVhen first read, it may not seem to amount
i to much, but it.needs only to be tried to be
come a favorite with old and young.
| Any number can play, as no skill nor prac-
„ - , , .,. ,, , . tice is required, aud it is adapted as well to
from me by the shock of the su .den and joy- | the par ior as t ' Q the picilic £, le wrRer ha °
fui meeting, was recovere 1. “but ho .v in tue
j 6 .au ™ , T -en the voice grew fainter aud fainter and ,
see everything looking neat and cleanly. She I knew it was receding, that the parties .
attributed it to the fact they had few visitors 1 wel 'e walking away. I stepped from the |
because they could not gossip. After a little I doorway; the moon’s light revealed to my j
time she rose to leave, but first got the pa- j eyes two men passing out of sight down the 1
rents Consent to let Sally come to see her. ! street. I followed, keeping them in sight. |
She gave them some change that she had in 1 They finally entered an old out house in an j
her pocket. Sue had been at home but a lit- j out-of-the-way place. I crept up to the rear j
tie while when Sallv came in. The two soon ! of the shanty. They had struck a light.
; .. eu now marv, you nave sunt mesu.ue- j sat down t0 a book / and Mary was pleased to ; The cracks between the loose boards were |
thing. Let them think that and can get geQ k ow welJ her j ittle prote or e comprehend- : not large enough to reveal to me the features
a servant in her if we only keep up the delu- i ed g he enqll j rec i Q f t j je child if she could get i of the parties within, but I could distinctly
sion. So you mind, now I tell you, don t tell a d litt l e girl to help her in house work,
them any better. Remember now, I am in 6 & y
Aleck, the hatchet wa. rated, hut, |
thanks to one of the painted braves who con- : bright eyed children,' with their parents and | thaTrib.^RLing and falling"above and~b’es
I I I .Ion f m -a , I -■ e, c . .. A_t 1. ... ■ , ■ i i I n \ a
Small YVaists aud Consumption.
The mania for small wais's has been the
premature death of thousinds upon thou
studs of the fairest and most promising
young ladies, b Tore they had time to learn
of the dangers they were inviting by fol
iowing the eximpks if those who teach by
their practice that they prefer conformity
to the requirements of perverted taste to the
exemption from the penalties of being out of
shape in the sense of those who exercise no
judgment n regard to this important matter.
Favored, as many robust women are, with a
fine organization in other respects, they can
live out a long life in comparative health and
comfort; but they are few compare l to the
vast number who fall short and die before
they have attained all they might have had
on earth. The first or topmost rib on either
side, just ufider the collar bone, is short, thin
and sharp ou its inner curvature. It ha* no
motion, being a brace between the dorsd
column and breast bone. It is immovable
for the purpose of protecting large arteries
and veins belonging to the anus on either
side of tho neck. In cases where the chest
has been manioulated til! the lungs cannot
expand downwards they are forced up above
low that rib level, the lobe chafes and frets
against the resisting curvatare. It is iaflam-
hear every word spoken. The same voice I
, ;r now, i arn i n j Sally knew, she said, a mighty good little I had heard before was saying:
earnest. YVe can save money by it and she | gjl .] gbe knevv W ould be glad to come. And | “Now, old man. that we’ve got where no
will help you. ”
Mary remembered too
words hurled at her ou
knew he was capable of
did not doubt now that „
of all the troubles those creatures had caused
j eyes but our own can see it. I’ll sho-v what I
>o well the brutal | ‘-Then if she is good and sensible I will am willing to give vou for your daughter,
i the moun-am and ; ta |- ehtl . an d teach her too.” She dreaded ; The smonta must be mine—she must be my
any brutan y. bne ( the gjr j from tbe house sile bad been s t ay j n g ! wife. You refuse five thousand pesos? Car-
siderea mat too Mini a ueato it never ue- oldar fr j ead sat arouad on th -
soended. It was arrested m its descent and 0 ie ot the matnrna3 poured g ojt f
I was spared for a more cruel fate. 1 was
tak
hav
sr ; s?s« f« sa
to make your escape f om tne re 1 demons?” i h,.,) hn..-, I pP 1 t,J extend quit e into the body of the organ,
At the mention of tae Spaniard’s name, I e .i ftn in tho r.tla'tn tou a * 1 ' I increased and intensified by exnting eino-
had thought of “the little Zoe” I had I . aa - a fhe pfie in the shawl, m order | tious, laborious pursuits, or unfavorable
clearlv forgotten h“r in the joy 0 f meet . u< , ! to P 0lnt ll; oat all excepting Ihe one whose : exposures. Finally, the mucous lining of
fgTn with me dear friend I bad given np a? j were c ‘ osed - The player then opened | the air cells within the lung sympathizes and
- 1 her eyes, an i was allowed to select on * at a , becomes inflamed also. In this connection
. _ , . . y, , . , , „ .. | ceitful and cunning, and the male members, ‘ tune that is. But now I will make you even
her, and that remember she knew full well she thuUgiit werc c 0 f committing any ’ a more handsome olf-r. a far more handsome t
Whit it mount Kha l*naiv ntliilain nunnwor ..... ® • its ... t ...mi i. -
what it meant. She knew while in his power,
helpless and unprotected, she had but one
course to follow, and that w?is to be very
pmjent in words, looks an 1 action.
YY'hen they returned to the house, tbe crea
tures were glad to see Peacock, but Mary
was nobody with them. They lusiste 1 on his
coming in, but he had promised Miry he
would only bid them good-bye. He got two
of the men to go with him to get the smashed
up trunks. . , „ - ...
It was a relief to Marv to get into the log i e< l !l d ^T uclem 'y ] a either case. Be sure and
house. While Peacock was gone the privacy , r ”“ d ‘“f xkw advertisement for particulars.
diabolical crime.
[TO BE COXTIXUEDl
Its Action is Sure and Sale.
The celebrated remedy Kidney-Wort can
form, or in liquid form. It is put in the la:
ter way for the especial convenience of those
who cannot readily prepare it. It will be
found very concentrated and will act with :
reaeh the settlement whs
offer; I will make the five thousand pesos ten
thousand! Yes, all this f ir the senorita.”
I heard the coins jingle out in a heap „„ .
the floor. I listened. No reply from the ! of R.obia toted.
ctner. A moment ail was quiet, then in ! _ T 5 ' , , ' v ' as . N iu j , " that
I i. ..... - . an»nr iiUD^tisnc© li9 t ‘Cdrdi ; )! Aliguei Diaz msdiit ld-t laig’it wuea he told,
now be obtained m tne usual dry vegetable : wh ^ 0 y ^ ;1 hesitate, o*l i man? Done you • Frank and rue o: the young man he hid res-
see I am offering you richss, mare wealth : c 'ned from tne Pa-vaees, and no. a suspicion
than your o! 1 bony hands can rake together i °f the train tor an instant cros-ed iny in nidi
in a lifetime? And as for the senorita—Zoe | But then he called you Maurice, or Doa
— I will make her or.e of the fines' ladies of j Mauricio; how is that?
“So you have never known what the M.
I lav vfTaov : pl a y er selects th9 “tip” fir.t, in which case , formation of the indiviluaf was "favorable
with the burnino- fever on me omitting mv 1 sbe notUin S> for tb . e mom-nt she takes f or a comparative long life, is beyond ques-
chance visit in Cue interim to the lone Souid ' tbs s h® must give it up, and the turn tion. M-dic itions cannot stay tae on vard
passes to the next player on her right, i inarch of disorganization when ulcera:ion3
Of course all the children scream when the 6 at the tissues. Once destroyed, they can
t p is touched, and the unlucky onesare laugh- never be reproduced. Therefore, if proven
e i at a little, but are soon c imforted by pres- tion is better than care, less exp msive. a id
ents of candy from the stores of the more always more agreeabie, why ri it profr by
fortunate. . ! these suggestions? No compression of tne
All who do not believe in the interest of bi se of the chests of men being induced by
the gams are cordially advised to secure a tignt dressing, a chafing of the upper surface
grou^i of chil< Ire a and a pi^er of candy, or q* the lung rarely occurs with G-r a!i
of little presents nicely wrapped in papers, men, giants in any department of busy life—
and to try it for themselves. j those who make the world conscious of their
initial h I influence—those who quicken thought, revo
lutionize public sentiment and leave th- iin-
theland. She shill be a queen and you can ,
. . . —. . j , ,, [i,.... ■ revel in gold. Here, look at it, old man, look j in my name stood for? It is f r Maurice. I
tor the time was what she needed to recall j J m ! at the beautiful yellow fellows! Is it not i have a pocket bibie—a gitt irom my ni Afier
her excited and shattered thoughts. His Thcusai ds of ladies to-day cherish gratefu beautiful? Look! examine it! It is good —upon the fly-leif of whicu is written my
worse than demoniacal eves upon her would ; remembrances of the help derived from the ' gold.” j name in full— YViil Maurice Robertson. As This new and interesting game can be, . -. „ onl -, la ,- nth(> h ; K torv of the
have turned her brain. Now she found relief use 0 f Lydia E Pinkhain’s Vegetable Com ; Again the coin was jingled. I listened for she sat near the tied oaeday while 1 lay wi u played in several ways, and can be used also ‘ a ’ h r L r fl -h V v w e not the sons
for her burning brain and broken heart in pound. It positively cures all female com- the reply. It came in a shrill, cracked voice the fever on me, I heard her—Z‘a—read iu connection with other old games, t) which 1 - ' ’ ■ ■
tears, such team she never dreamed of shed- , plain s. Send to Mrs. Lydia E. Pinkham, ' —a voice I never would have recognized as aloud from the il, Teat, repeating the nama it lends a new charm. Any number of play-
ding. Her thoughts reverted to home; her ’ 233 YYes.trii Avenue, Lynn, Mass., for pam- that of Zoe’s father, so changed was it from Maurice, and calling it pretty. She thought ; ers can join, each one of whom tells the ini-
quiet, peaceful home. They may have had ptdets. what it once had been: 1 that I slept, but I was not asleep, and 1 de- tials of his or her name, which the others can
of gaunt mothers whose waists resemble the
middle of an hour glass.
0 aw
*
<