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THE SUNNY SOUTH
“Well, well—we’ll see, and I promise you
'ten guineas if he takes to me. Mind, 1 have
more reasons for this than one, and as I know
how to punish as well as how to rev a 'a. look
to yourself and every step you take. I al
low you to talk to me thus familiarly because
you are a well-meaning, honest fellow, I
think D «things quickly and be silent. Now
go. L-t me hear a good report when you
come again.’
As the footman passed on along a passage
towards the servants’ hall, be met his mis
tress’s maid servant, who looking around
cautiously as il to avoid notice, said in a half
W “Sunon White, where have you been, and
-what have you been doing?”
Simon r- plied by putting his thumb on his
nos* and working his fingers in the air:
‘*Yer thinks to tqueezs the lemon does
, yer!"
“You needn’t be trying to blindfold me,”
3he replied with an indignant look. “I know
-well enough w hat you’ve been about; and 1
didn’t think there was as much meanness in
you. Are you a man, or do you deserve the
name of man who are doing worse than a
dog’s part?”
“Yer be a smart gal ef yer can tell by yer
eyes what I've been doin’, and can do more
nor a dog's part ef yer can smell it out uther.
What the devil bev I done so mean? Now
znissuB, goodness mercy, will yer tell me
what yer Lev been about? Yer needn’t to
think to gammon me, yer vartuous haugel
you. Didn’t 1 bear through the crack o’ the
door when yer missus guv yer order to yer?
and didn’t I hear yer say yes’m to ev’ry
think and didn’t I see yer on jer beat? Oh,
yer be too vartuous to do worse’n a dog’s
p irt, be yer? D >u’t I know yer war on the
same business as I war But I’m a dog and
yer’e a hangel. Didn’t I see Betty Grimes
pour a cup o’hot coffee down Tom Grimes’
back that made him jump like a hindy rub
ber ball and cos he pulled her bar fur it,
-didn’t she swar the peace agin ’em, and say
-•he war a poor, harmless cretur, alters work
in’ and delvin’ to please ber cruel husband,
and got only b«atin’s and cusses.”
“Simon White,” continued the girl as soon
as she could be heard, “don’t be a fool. D >
you remember sweet Miss Alice that lived
with us two whole year: and never spoke aD
unkind word to one living soul, who used to
make you talk that she might laugh and was
so sweet tampered and good?”
“Miss Alice! why, of, course, I recollect
ber. I’d fight for that young ’oman any
day. What do yer mean by asking me ’bout
her! Nobody that ever see her could forge'
her, or keep from liking the ground she walk
ed on.”
“Well, what I mean by bringing her up is
this: you're in a conspiracy to ruin ber and
break her heart, while she, poor innocent, is
thinking no e7il, and trying like you and me
to earn her own living honestly, you are tak-
ing wages to blast ber character and to drive
away the man she loves and who loves her.”
“What on earth are you driving at? I’d
-cut my throat afore I’d be sich a knave. I
do Miss Alice harm? Didu’t I cuss the old
master when be tuck away her school and
sent her off'”
Susan knew exactly how to manage this
'strange mixture of ignorance, shrewdness,
conceit and good nature, and she tuned him
up to the pitch she desired.
PLoo 1 ” she sniffed contemptuously,
-“you’d make me believe your great bragging
•words, won’t you? When you have been
persuading Miss Alice’s beau to leave her and
poking letters under the door of the Brax
ton’s where she lives to ruin her character,
-and get her sent away from there too.”
The cunning fellow looked fixedly into Su
san’s eyes as they were intently fastened up
on his face and saw that the expression was
more inquisitive than denunciatory, and
said.
“Oh, yer’d squeeze the lemon would yer?
Yer’ll see wbar yer’ll see, but yer won’t coz
en itouten me; and as fur what that letter
-poked under the door sensed, yer know noth
ing any more nor I do. She writ it for Miss
-Alice—just a little funny thing which said
inside tnat the fairies sent it by a fairy and
all to please Miss Alice. So she said when Si.e
called on Miss Alice, she’d ark ber ’bout the
Oettter. Now I know ef so be that letter war
- wii'^vysrsay-’twas, she’s}-ewer told yer, a^r
-could yer hev drawed it outen her wi’ a cart
rope. So yer be guessin’ at what be insidm
it, and mayby tellin’ a lie on her, thof I
knows that De hard to do, for she wouldn’t
stop to do all yer said and more nor that, ef
so be she could make by it.”
“And don’t you see, Mr. Stupidity, that if
- she wants to catch Felix Beattie she must
first break him up with Miss Alice If it be
necessary to ruin Miss Alice to catch Felix
Beattie she won’t stop at nothing to ruin her.
I tell you that letter had nothing but evil in
it”
-Simon looked down in perplexity for a mo
ment, and then said with his forefinger point
ed almost in Susan’s face, and slowly and en
ergetically emphasized every word.
“Look at me and hear me. I don’t loike
to trust a ’oman cause they can’t keep a se
cret and get things mixed up and will get at
the bottom of all sorts o’ mischief, ef so be
'they ben’t at the top; but tbar be cases wbar
mankind is obleeged to trust ’em; for we hev
to trust ’em in being born of ’em, bekaze we
..can’t find anybody else, and that is & case in
•p’int.”
Susan looking Into his serious face as he
philosophised, bit her lip to maintain her
gravity, but broke down and laughed a mer
ry peal.
He said indignantly:
“'Here we be talkin’ about Miss Alice, and
her '-enemies and when I war all serus atten
tion, here are ye a cacklin’ like a pullet. But
I tell yer I’ve got somethin’ serus to say.
You may call yer missus anythink yer please
’ceptin’ a fool, fur she aint that; and she be
-peskily hard to fool, and it be dang’rous to
try, and ef she ketches yer, yer’ll ketch it
back a hundred fold. She knows how to do
it. She has no more conscience nor a fiddle,
'thof she can make as purty a noise when she
does things up sweet before the men. Then
I tell yer when she is ugliest inside, she is
ginerally puttiest outside till she be ready to
strike. But, law! she is mean and stingier
nor her father, and yer never see her gold
’ceptin’ when yer do somethin’ mean fur her
that she is afeard to be heard of. But we
-must trust each other, fur thar is no other
way fur it, but to act togitber; and we can’t
do a think witboutin it. 1 must know what
she tell yer, and yer must know what she tell
ase, so we may know how to play into each
other’s hand. And ef yer’ll hold yer tongue
and do jest as I tell yer, we both can cheat
her, thof I tell ’twill take both on us thegeth-
er with all our canning to do it. When she
smiles and looks through you with them shin
ing black eyes she puUs out a whole hank o’
yarns made to order, skain by skain, kinks
and wraps ’em round you in a soft, silky way.
She war born so by natur, loike cats to ketch
mice. Now look here we’ve been afeard to
lose oar place, and tuck dog’s fare many
times rather nor be turned off without a
character, but ef we lose our place by servin'
Miss Alice, Felix Beattie will geve us a char
acter and get a better place for us too.”
“Yes,” cried Susan, exultingly, “1 didn’t
-once thin of that, and don’t care a fig
whether I’m turned off or not. And if Miss
Alice ever gets a house of her own, I’ll go to
her sure.”
“But what did yer go to do f’ asked Si
mon.
“To watch you” she replied, “to see wheth
er you disguised yourself when you thrust
-the letter uuder the door about night, or
went near the Braxton's house in the day
-time. For she feared lest Miss Alice should
see you!”
“0, she told me all that a dozen times,”
said Simon, “and she sent you to watch me,
did she! Zooks 1 I came near ketchin it
then, for I wor in a ace of goin. But who
eras to watch yerf
*'0, she hired a boy to watch
me, and told me only that I wou'd be
watched, without saying who would watch
me, and I did not know till a boy came to me
near night and said, you must go home now,
and me with yon.”
“Yer see how necessary it is then, for us to
see each other's hand,” said Simon. “Now,
ef yer’ll stick to me. I’ll stick to yer, and we’il
cheat her yet. And now I'll say what I
never thunk I uver would say to any ooman,
but on reflection, I see it wouldn’t be easy to
do withoutin oomans althegither, and since
they be here we moat as well make some use
un ’em; and ef yer be a good gal, and stick
close to me, I’ll court yer and marry yer too,
Susan, which is a great deal for me to do.”
Here Susan broke down again, and said,
when she could speak:
“You are enough to kill any one. You
conceited ninny! Don’t you know it takes
two to make a bargain! and here you are
making a bargain by yourself, and swearing
to its fulfillment. Since you know so much
about women’s craft you had better let them
a;nne, if you don’t want to be bamboozled,”
“ »V eil, ef so be I must be barnhoc zlefi. its
some satisfaxun to hev uu I can b .mtxx z
back ag:n. And as fur its takin’ two to mak
a bargain in jinlng men and ’ooman in mat-
termony, that’s not so ’alf the time. Th*
man ginerarly makes the whole machine, an'
sez—‘here it is, git in’; and ef it be a dog
cart, and she can’t git any better, she will git
in, and as I know yer’e not gwine to get any
Yokle better nor my dog-cart, so I knows
yer’ll git in.”
Susan looked him hard in the face, and
broke again into a laugh.
“Well,” she exclaimed, “you are a case.
You’re sharper than most folks would think,
I begin to b’lieve.”
(TO BE CONTINUED. 1
BELLADAIR;
-OB.-
The Burwell Family.
The Fate of a Wealthy South,
era Household.
BT GAGE HEMPSTEAD.
Author of “META.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
It is a very grave and solemn bust new!
We must not be precipitate. Does he
Without compulsion of his own free will.
Consent to this?” Longfellow.
Who’se ther?” asked Tom Hastings as he
stood inside his sitting room and listened to
the quick rapping at his door.
“A traveler who is belated and asks shelter
lor the night.”
“This ain’t no tavin. I ain't got a sign
board fur takin’ in straggler^” said Tom
Hastings half in anger for being called out,
but mostly because of a selfish inhospitable
nature. He had reached the door and was
holding it half open while he peered into the
darkness to see the man who had disturbed
him
“Yon may not call your house a tavern, or
nave a sign board to invite strangers in, but
1 am sure you will not deny shelter to a man
who has come a long distance and who does
not know the roads at night.”
“Where did you come from?” asked Hast
ing’s curiously.
“I came from D to-day.”
“From D did you? Is anything partic
ular gom’ on there!”
“Yes, something very particular is going
on there, I should say.”
‘ What? - ’
“Why, you don’t expect me to tell you
standing out here, wet and chilled, when I
could tell you much better by a good fire,
with a cup of coffee.”
“Umpb I you is got a cute way to git in a
feller’s house,” said Tom Hastings opening
the door a little wider as if tacitly inviting
the stranger in.
When the stranger was in ths room Tom
Hastings saw by the flickering light of a
tallow candle a manly form, and recognized
the demeanor of a gentleman. This was no
rec jmmendatiou to a man whose malicious,
envious soul, was pitted without reason
against any one bearing the insignia of
superiority. He was however, deeply inter-
eeted in anything relating to D at present,
and more than all to catch any tidings from
the prisoner there.
“An’so you come from D . Did you go
roan’ the lawyers bout the Court Houser
- .“MFi>uaia«»i.flisr e .wM.Trith*l*wver "
“It was. You warnt rouo’ the jail none?”
“Yes, I walked all through the jail with
this lawyer.”
“You did! You seen the prisoners 1 reek-
in?”
“Yes, I saw them all.”
“Did you know ’em?"
“I was not acquainted with any when 1
went there but I spoke to two or three of
them.”
“Did you see one named Burwell—ole Gin-
eral Burwell!”
“Yes, I spoke to him also.”
“Beckie,” said Tom Hastings turning to his
daughter who by the tallow dip was finishing
a quilt in a frame, “tek up them traps ticks
and clear the room.”
Another woman comes to assist Beckie in
lifting the quilt frame up to the leather
loops nailed on the ceiling over head. She
is not the haggard, heart broken wife seen
hers when Beckie was a little girl, for she
baply rests very peacefully now, in a quiet
grave near by. This woman who comes in,
and is the present Mrs. Hastings, is a coarse
moon-faced creature not at ail likely to weep
and mourn over the brutal vulgarity of her
husband. Tom Hasting’s new honse contain
ed ample room, but by his petty tyranny
and Mrs. Hastings’ ignorance, the greater
portion was kept in stiff parade for the grand
company that never came. It was an in
voluntary homage to the gentleman he
despised for being such, as well as a desire to
bear in quiet the news from D. which urged
him to clear this working room of the women
and their sewing. When they were gone he
said:
“And so you seen Gineral Burwell? How
does the old aristercrat like his corner?”
“Not at all, I suppose,” was the reply
while a burning flush of indignation flew to
the face of the stranger only to meet instant
concealment by a forced smile.
Do the folk’s ’bout the court house think
he’ll git in a tighter place you reckin?”
“What do you mean by a tighter place!’
asked the gue3t curiously.
“Why, that he’ll swing.”
“Ah! what was the exact nature of his
offence, can you tell me?”
“Why, he killed a nigger. The sknll was
found in the woods, and two other niggere
was there close by an’ heard the Gineral a
cussin an’ threatenin’ ter shoot the nigger.
Then yon see the bullet hole in the skull an’
the bullets his gun toted was the same size,
an’ a piece o’ caliker that was his waddin’
matched a scrap found close to his house.
Hits clear—as blazes!”
“And there are witnesses to these facts!”
“Plenty, and they is men wat don’t back
out nother.”
“Who prosecuted the case!”
“O! « lot. Men wat was bouned to see jes-
tice done.”
“And this old man has no son has he to
help him!”
“He’s got a son-in-law w’at wouldn’t be
cotched spilin’ his hands fur sich a ole orister-
crat. His son-in-law is a gentleman sure,
.ev’ry inch er one, an’ no mistake. He’s not
gwine to be cotched a hood!in’ round with a
set o’ milk an’ water broke down oristercrats.
Ae drapped sich as them like hot taters from
the word go!” Tom Hasting’s venom towards
a class he hated, seemed equalled only by his
admiration for Col. McConn.
“Did none cf this Gen. Burwell’s family
try to help him at all?”
“O.-p! supee! that darter o’ hisen raly did
try. Why, ef sh'd bin a man wearin’ the
breeches she couldn't a worked harder. A
old parson lent her his bnggy, an’ she rid the
country up and down a beggin’ men to len’
her the money to git a lawyer. But, twixt
you and me,” said Tom Hastings, while a
hideous leer blazed in nis eyes, “things was
managed too nice fur her fingers ter unloose
the strings.”
“How were they managed.”
“Well, you see times is changed. It used
to be that these ole oristercrats had their
own way, but now ‘the bottom ral’s on
top.’ The laws an’ all that is governed by
men that’s got their rights at last, an’ they’re
jined like a band of brothers. Ef a thing’s
contrary to their laws an’ orders they give
the word an’ the whole machine is in motion.
There’s no man, much less a gal, that can
fight aginst them arrangements.” Tom Hi
tings eyes glistened in feline triumph as he
chuckled and snapped his fingers.
“Then this—lady was working against a
ring?”
“She was that, an’ the critter wud a worked
till doomsday an’not budged thiogs a inch.
You see the store-keepers is got ter make
ther livin’ off the niggers, and the niggers '
the power a pnllin ‘the party’ along.
minute the store keepers work agin the nig-
>er, he is cut loose an’ swingin’ to nutMfljr'
He’s got ter keep in with the party’ _fcr
keep in with the niggers. H-t’s the-Af;
wheels to a gin—hitch one outer place an'
'here's no go. Well, now, there’s a few men
that kin give a hint to them store-keepars
an’ they’ll go any way they’re told. Welvl
-I- n’t know much, but I know enough to
Know they got the hint, an’ the widder May
was done fur afore she teched her whip to
that ole hors.”
It was not in place for Mr. Ambrose, for it
is ue, to remonstrate by asserting the fact that
there were merchants, however exceptional
their cases, whose bands were unsoiled by this
miserable compromise of principle. He was
driving hard at “cluea” that in no way rela-
•ed to the honor of such men as Denton and
Pelham,
“1 beard to-day, at D , that this old
V ntleman’s daughter has a suitor named
D wight, who will render the father and
d-ughter all the service they may need.”
“You heard that?” said Hastings, rising as
if stung by a serpent, then suddenly relaps
ing into forced composure.
“Yes, do you know this man Dwight?”
“Look’er yer, stranger, is you a lawyer or
p'liceman, an’ does yer come to my house to
p ck me ’bout folks 1 ain’t scarcely acquainted
with?”
“Hal ha! I am simply a good citizmjUki
yourself. I never saw this prisoner untf^o
d-iy, and have never seen Mr. Dwight in my
life.’
“Well, the old caw is not agwine to git
D vight, is my thinkin’ though I aint JM
right to know other people’s bizness.” ”
There was no committal in the words. Any
man might have uttered them, but the gnaw
ing hatred crept into the face, and the quick
fl :sh of triumph betrayed a secret that
in-re words would conceal.
Devoted to his wicked cause, wary, alert,
Tom Hastings suddenly bethought him to
q lestion his guest again.
“Is yer got business in these parts, or is you
just travelin’ round, Mr.—what’s yer name?”
“My name is Ambrose. Very important
business called me here, and very important
business keeps me here.”
“You said you was a stranger here?’
“Yes; l never saw the place before, or any
person in it, except the man I came to see.”
“Stranger, ef it aint axing an onruly
question, will yer tell me who that man is?”
“I have no particular objections—Col. Me
Conn Is the man.”
“Oop! supee 1 Why there’s why Dwight
stays, an’ you say you never seed him?”
“Certainly, I say so. My business was al
together with CoL McConn. He did call in
two men to sign a paper, but neither was
named Dwight, is this Mr. Dwight present
at all times?’
“I reckin not. I seen him at the
the odd times. May be he was in hi
when yon was at the colonel’s? El
Beckie!” The daughter only had
utter a few words when a tall figure
in the doorway. “Why, Mr. Dwight,
you! I had no idee o’ you ter night.”
There was no . answer to the words. The
same brilliant torchlight made to dry Am
hrose’s damp clothes, and throw out his face
and figure m bold relief, alike revealed the
man in the doorway.
“Holbrooke! Holbrooke!” The words were
uttered In fierce spasmodic jerks, and leap
ing to his feet Henry Ambrose confronted
the man whose penmanship had we^Lnigh
worked his ruin. Face to lace the two men
stood, One strong, resolved and brave in
the right: the other sullen, resolved in the
wrong.
Holbrooke—for henceforth we know only
his real name—looked at Hastings. Ambrose
understood the meaning of that murderous
glance, even before Hastings moved in slip
pery catlike tread and stood beside i£eforg-
ok. - Tip? Hnlfcrgeke
on his pistol pocket. Placing his
behind him, Ambrose in a voice that caused
Hastings to cower and slouch away ordered
the pistol to be left in its place.
There was no mistaking the meaning of
those blazing orbs. The hidden hand had
death in its grasp, and in a moment might
send the deadly missive. Holbrooke obeyed.
“Come! If I wanted vengeance I could
take it; but I -leave that for a Higher Power
than mine. It is my mission to clear my
name, to help another.’’
Holbrooke was assured somewhat by these
words; moreover, the man who commanded
him had that ceitain ring in his voice which
spoke of unshaken resolve—then in one sense
a master spirit demanded obedience. In mis
erable reluctance, Holbrooke moved to the
spot near a table Ambrose pointed to. Those
cunning, treacherous faces were read by the
eyes that penetrated the thin veil of conceal
ment, and Ambrose kept his face to them
both and his hand resting as they thought on
his pistol.
Once again Holbrooke sought Hastings’
face with the same meaning, murderous pe
tition for assistance, bat this time the lower
ing eyes were fixed on Ambrose and the
hand which seemed to grasp death for any
opponent.
When Beckie had answered the request
and placed pen, ink and paper on the table
Mr. Ambrose fixed his unrelenting eyes on
Holbrooke and said:
“Holbrooke, I have your name signed and
sealed as the forger of those papers that
brought ruin and disgrace to my life. In the
determination to clear my name I have found
you to be the conspirator to destroy another,
even an old and good man who has no other
hand uplifted for his aid than a heart-broken
daughter’s ”
“What right have you ” began Hol
brooke, his fears overcome for the moment
by rising wrath.
“Stop! You are not in a position to parry
questions with me. Suffice it that my right
is justice from one injured man to another.
' uo not give evidence of proof to you here;
nf-. fViaf nan Ka nnoH in anv nmirf mnm ^
but that can be produced in any court room.
Holbrooke cast one terrible glance of demo
niac hatred at Hastings, who still kept his
cowering gaze on Ambrose,
“You used this miserable tool!” said Am
brose, pointing his finger at the swarthy-faced
host. ‘‘Ha! fur a pitiful promise of gold that
is not yours you have used him to crush a
noble, helpless family to the earth.”
“Traitor!” cried Holbrooke, springing upon
Hastings like an infuriated tiger. “You can
play the traitor can you!” Scarcely were
the words uttered when a pistol flashed, but
not before a strong band had struck it aside
and sent its contents into the wall. But the
desperate man was not to be thwarted of
vengeance. He seized Hastings’ throat with
one hand, and pinioned him to the floor with
the other. The work of pounding and goug
ing was going on in terrific haste when Hol
brooke was seized by a pair of strong arms
and drawn with all ease from the bruised
and bleeding form. Hastings seized the op
portunity to escape, in the meanwhile hurl-
ng back hideous imprecations as he speedily
retreated.
inevitably lose. Whatever this might be, it
was unwise to force this desperate, reckless
man. The plain common sense, the strong
calm will of Ambrose, rescued him from a
latal precipitancy.
“Holbreke!” he spoke in tones which
-nnaut command blended with kindness.
“Look at me look straight into my eyes !
Now, had I dealt by you as you have dealt
by me, what would have been my punish
niont? Would you not havo dragged me a
culprit to the criminal courts? Yen. and good
men would have upheld you. I even I,
would not have condemned you, however se
vere my righteous punishment. But right
here I wash my hands of all the pain yi u
gave me, < f all the verg mce I could have
upon you. One request must be granted,
while 1 release you. you must release anoth
er. Holbrooke my faith has neve: been bro
ken to mortal man. Give me this acknowl
edgement in writing and you are free.
It would be an impossible task for pen or
brush to portray the commingled txpr -ssions
t hat met and and wandered in shadowy con
diet on Holbrooke's face—“Freedom!” A
moment ago he saw no escape from Hast
ings betrayal (for this he thought had been)
- -r from Ambrose’s retributive vengeance.
Now be could be free; bis quick mind guessed
by what mean9. There was conflict with
h: in as to a selection of ways. He was forced
to accept the only terms so liberally offered
lu his own heart he saw an incomprehensive
magnanimity in Ambrose, yet, bow be longed
«ith one fearful blow to strike him to death!
‘‘Write wbat Tom Hastings did to General
Burwell and your part in the affair.”
Holbrooke knsw be must obey yet never
was criminal borne to the fatal block with
greater repugnance. The confession was
made, not a word left out that would have
been required by Ambrose’s keen, unrelenting
eyes. Ere the name was signed Holbrooke
said: “Let me add a few lines.” His hard
p -ssionate face softened somewhat, and hi>
eyes filled with a mysterious new phase of
pain that softened his hitherto forbidding
expression. He sat and wrote, then Am
oroseread:
‘‘1 did this with the hope of winning the
love of the woman I loved, I was ready to
leliver her father when I could obtain her
consent to be my wife. I never meant to see
him punished. I would have stopped it at
ci e last. D. Holbrooke."
As Ambrose read the lines, wbat was the
meaning of the throb that came to his own
heart? His face which had been so rugged
and severe looked almost as gentle as a wo
man’s. Turning to his wretched companion
he said:
-‘Holbrooke never do evil that good may
come to you or another, depend upon the
truth that you will surely reap the evil ten
fold into your own bosom while its growth,
like a noxious weed will be scattered every
where, the expected good like Apples of
Sodom will be but as ashes in your hand.
Now Holbrooke, goodbye! You will go far
he ce I know, and you shall go with my for-
g venesa. I have long ago asked God to for
give you, and I. unworthy of being servant
to Him, must follow in the footsteps of my
Master. In another land, with another peo
ple, forget your past, and live so worthily
ebat some good and true woman will bless
your life with her love, live so that another,
even the God of love will not be ashamed to
disown yon when He comes to olaim His peo
ple.”
“This Is strange talk from you, Henry
Ambrose. It is unnatural.” There was
cynical bitterness in the words, but the better
vein of the man’s nature had been touched
and his face betokened this to the eyes scan
ning it so intently.
“I know it is unnatural. Malice, revenge,
hate would seem meet passion to meet my
demands. But—I do not hate you, nor would
1 have revenge. Why, there natural pas
sions have disappeared and given place to
the spirit of charity ycu can decide your
self.”
“You have chosen a singular occasion to
preach me a sermon,” said Holbrooke with a
forced laugh. There was now a relaxation
of his cynical expression, however enigmati
cal his words.
Another day and Holbrooke was at De wry’s
isnming his old plan of dodging his fellow
men, looking into each new face with fear
' mt e- roywatoa
around in the g
“Come—fighting is not the work I have to
do,” said Ambrose, returning to the table and
drawing the panting man with him.
“What work have you?” cried Holbrooke,
with eyes gleaming with rage that once kin
dled against Hastings still burned fiercely to
ward Ambrose.
A work of reparation. Here: write on
this paper what I demand.”
■‘So you’ll have me make out my own con
demnation, will you?—you’ll make me a wit
ness against myself? Is that your plan!” The
words were mild, but the hot passion burn
ing in the blazing eyes was a terrible sight to
Ambrose saw he had poshed matters too
far and might run the risk of not obtaining
tbe slightest hold npon this slippery, accom
plished villain. He was really unarmed,
enough by his little ruse the men were igno
rant of this. If Holbrooke escaped him,
where could he obtain means to stay tbe
law in its proceedings against General Bar-
well. Some powerful game was at stake with
Holbrooke, which this act of writing would
might be lurking _
nocent rusticity. Not until he”was on
great ship and she was ploughing her way
through the briny waves did the criminal
drop the shackles of the servitude of guilt
and show himself a man with men.
Colonel McConn sold his store with the
goods, and his house and its contents to Mr.
Pelham, the latter worthy gaining largely as
u-ual by another’s calamity. Friends, such
m s lomers of the term, as were made over the
wine cup, or drawn by the jingle of gold,or the
gloaming splendor hovered thickly aiound
CoL McConn. Not one, however, could offer
him a word and cause him to feel there was
truth and trust in the offering. In the dark
ness it was revealed to the proud man how
be had gathered the chaff of humanity about
him. He knew how Mr. Benton had followed
bis old old persecuted father-in-law to the
prison and he saw in this act how faithful
one heart was. All at once the cruel neglect,
the brutish tyranny in restraining Catherine
from her family came upon him as a thick
cloud of condemnation. He felt a rebound
upon himself of those pangs he had wittingly
laid upon his wife and her family; a twinge
of remorse overtook his sluggish conscience
when he considered that, in this life there
would never more be reparation for these
wrongs. He had deliberately throttled to
death the friendship that in this hour might
be his solace.
Alasl how many trample from their lives
the hearts that would shed a pure perennial
friendship upon their pathway.
We will go into the coming weeks and with
an American vessel enter the port of Venice.
Among the passengers we recognize in the
handsome American and his beauteous wife,
Colonel McConn and Catherine. Here for
months perhaps years their home will be in
this city, the -‘beautiful queen of the sea,” on
the Grand Canal, near the Rialto in the
palace Moreingo. With in these walls the
poet Byron liyed and wrote, in the dim past,
and here our two refugees find a home. ~ The
ancient splendor of her palace home, the
water scene, with gondola, gondolier, and
freight of interesting Venetians—the gay, the
beautiful, the grand old Venice, charms, at
tracts, bewilders! but the heart yearns for
-‘home,” as it looks over the vast fields of
water. Lonely, loving, wilful Catherine
must remain forever more “an exile from
home?”
[TO BE CONTINUED ]
DON JOAQUIN
And His Flag;
OB THE
SPANISHBUCCANEER
BT LIEUT. FELIX.
CHAPTER XXXVL
“The Rosemond’s gig is coming along side,
sir,” reported the quartermaster of the fri
gate to the officer of the watch.
“A boatswain’s mate, and two side boy 3 ,
Mr. Marsh; have the barge manned and send
her on shore for the Commodore, Mr. Cook,
tell the boatswain to call all hands to fori
awning,” replied the officer of tbe watch.
While these orders were being executed,
the whistles ringing through the ship, tbe
sailors lining the white hammock’s stowed in
a doable line fore and aft, around the net
tings of the frigate, in readiness to cast off
the tops and lacings and let fall the awnings,
the officers of the deck stood near tbe gang
way. At the same time there tripped up the
accommodation ladder, a young officer of
two and twenty, dressed in an under frock
coat, with one epaulet, white trowsers, and
light shoes. Catching np his sword in his
ieft hand as he reached the upper grating cf
the ladder, he took off his gold banded navy
cap, and bounded with a spring on to the
frigate’s deck, standing there a splendid pic
ture of youthful beauty, Mars and Adonis in
o^e.
“Well, Walter, give ns your hand, my
boy. How do you do, and how are you get
ting along on board the prize. Not so roomy
as the old Antelope, eh. And a little more
work than when you were playing flag
lieutenant, eh! Well, glad to see you, but
can’t stop just now to talk with you. So
jump down below there in the gun room, the
mess are just through dinner, and you will
not be ready for an hour yet. Come, bear a
band, or I’ll let the awning fall on your new
• paulet.’
Tbe new comer tripped lightly down to
the gun deck, and making another dive down
to the berth deck, exchanging a volley of
pleasantry with the midshipman in tbe steer
age, he opened the ward room door and en
tered. There in a large open space, so clean
i hat one might have rubbed bis handkerchief
over every portion without leaving a stain,
around a large mahogany table with decan
ters and wine glasses here and there, and
water monkeys in flannel jackets hanging
like criminals from the beams above, sat tbe
gun room mess of the frigate.
As the handsome young officer entered the
ward room all faces light up as they saw
nim. The old sailing master, the kind old
surgeon, the staid old chaplain, the prim
purser, and _ tbe gay young lieutenant all
welcomed, in their own peculiar way, the
i rig-it. graceful young officer who dawneo
upon them so suddenly. And not only the
mess were cheered by his presence, but also
a troop of cleanly dressed colored attendants,
whose wide jaws stretched wider while the
wbites of their eyes seemed like splashes of
whitewash on the outside of the galley cop
prrs, as they nudged one ano.her, and yaw'd,
yaw’d, gaily away aft there in the region oi
panlry.
“Here, my salt water pet, come and sit
down by me, where all these old fellows
cau see you. Steward, a wine glass for
Sir Walter. What you won’t take a sip of
■»f the pure old Palermo, and you can only
s opa eminent, because you are to dine with
tbe Commodore, eh. Well, i’ll drink your
uncle’s health even if you don’t,” said the
first lieutenant, as he laid his hand on the
young man’s shoulder and drained his glass
“Why, Walter, what did you come down
here for,” squealed out the purser, as he
i.wisted his lips into a pleasant smile. You
have put an end to that interesting account
the master was giving us of how long he lay
aside—”
“Silence there, you young roarer,” shouted
the surgeon, as he popped an almond nut in
to the wide mouth of the rollicking lieuten
ant, which cut his speech short off.
“Yes, Walter, that’s what you have done
in coming here for a moment. But stay a
week or two with us and the master will tel:
it to you again.”
Here the old sea veteran scratched the re
mains of his ear, and growled jocosely while
nodding to tbe new comer.
“Ah my dear boy, and I’ll tell you how the
surgeon and Rip Van Winkle there, were en
tertained by an old devil of a!Spaniard at St.
.lago.”
"Let us hear it,” roared the mess, except
tbe surgeon and the purser. “Out with it
master.”
“Well, mess mates, when we were in the
old a long time ago. One day we drop
ped anchor in the St. Jago de Cuba.”
Here the surgeon and parson smiled sav
agely, and implored the grizzled navigator
not to go on, as everybody had heard that
old yarn.
Well, mess-mates, in less than one hour
after we had anchored in St. logo de Cuba,
the first and second officers went on shore,
and there made the acquaintance of a little
thin adder-eyed old villain, who invited
them to make him a visit, and pass the even
ing on a fine estate he owned about three
leagues from town. He was a most respects
ble person and was very rich, and he com
manded a gu vrda costa to boot. The captain,
Don Eski, wasn’t that his name surgeon?
Oh, you forget; all right, off they started
with a guide on hired donkeys, but when
they pulled up at their destination they found
the Don wasn’t there, though they were
handsomely entertained by the Senora, a
waspish old lady who cursed her Don for
sending people out there to see her, and the
visitors too, for coming. However, as her
ests had not dined she fed them bountifui-
over, the old lady demanded a little game of
monte, and insisted too, on making herself
banker, though she had no rixdollars on the
table to pay with in case she lost, which she
had not tbe slightest intention of doing; so
she won every dollar they had in their pock
ets. The surgeon and purser told me they
saw her cheat boldly, but yet she not only
bagged all their gold but absolutely won tneir
donkeys into the bargain. Well that old lady
had a false pack of cards always in her bosom
and had cheated them in the basest manner
conceivable, but yet they had no appeal,
and were inclined out of gallantry to the sex
to behave like gentlemen.
Towards midnight the Don’s wife began to
abuse our friends for not bringing more
money with them when they come to play
with ladies, and then fairly ousted them out
of the house. I was on deck while hunting
out of the channel, and just abreast the cas
tle, 1 saw a boat with two gentlemen in the
stern, stripped to a girt line, and don’t you
remember, surgeon, how they yelled at U3.
and we thonght they were deserters from
that English gun boat in St lago, and how
the captain arrested the pair of them when
they got on board for going out of signal dis
tance.”
“The barge is coming off, Mr. Hardy, with
the pennant flying, sir,” reported a reefer, in
the midst of the conversation to tbe first
lieutenant, thrusting his head through the
ward room door.
The executive officer, with Walter, the
young lieutenant, arose and went on deck to
receive the commodore of the double banked
English frigate Antelope.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
The drum rolled, the marines presented
arms, the boatswain piped, the side band of
ficers took off their caps and as the colors
dropped with the booming of the sunset gun
from the peak and, the broad pennant
came fluttering down from the main truck,
Commodore Cromwell and his friends stood
on the splendid deck of the flagship Ante
lope.
-‘Gentlemen, allow me to make you ac
quainted with the first lieutenant of the An
telope, Mr. Hardy, and permit me also to
present my nephew, Mr. Hardy, captain, if
you please, my friends, of the one gun
schooner, Rosemond, formerly the slave
cutter cut out of a river harbor boat on the
in there between Frazier and Murphy. Here,
gentlemen, let me exhibit to vou, Mr. Tony
Burr. Don’t move, Byron, I’ll make a place
for him near me.”
The commodore took the tiny boy midship
man affectionately by the hand as he seated
him on a chair at his side and while the con
versation went on with his guests, said in a
kindly undertone:
“Tony, my dear, the first lieutenant tells
me you are a good boy and attend to your
duty. I hope you pay attention to your
studies also, and write often to your dear
mother. Ah, you do, that is right, for you
know you are her only hope since your brave
father was killed. There, sir, you may sip a
little wine.”
’ Come, commodore, you are forgetting us.
Mr. Murphy, here, will give us a song, then
we will listen to your adventures.” said By
ron.
I he commodore straightened up in his
chair, nodded his assent, and Mr. Murphy
trolled his ditty, after which the company
drank the singer's health and Commodore
Cromwell of the frigate Antelope began his
story in the midst of the profound silence of
bis invited guests.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
“Gentlemen, the last time I was in Jamai
ca, and a jolly time it was too, as you all
know, we kept up our festivities so long that
1 only got on board the War Horse at break
of day just in time to get her under way
with the land breeze. Well, we were bound
to windward, and for eight davs after, we
rolled about in a dead calm off Morant Bay,
some twenty ieagues off land, and one morn
ing we discovered a sail. She wag a large
merchant brig, heading any way, rolling and
ilobbing about as we were in the calm.
A bout noon, however, a light breeze sprung
up and we got within hailing distance and I
went on board to say a word or two to the
captain, for we had news before leaving
Kingston that tbe infamous pirate, Joaquin,
in his long legged schooner Pindar had been
-een off Guadaloupe, in fact, we had actually
chased him off Matamoras three months be
fore, and so I was ordered to give the brig a
warning, in particular as she had reported a
suspicious craft in sight that same morning
at sunrise. When I got on board of her I
saw—”
Here Byron placed both hands to his face
as he leaned his elbows ou the table and the
commodore, checking himself, went on:
“Ah, well, we kept in sight of the brig all
day and ran round ber once or twice in the
evening and as the coast seemed clear and we
were anxious to make up for lost time in the
calm, we gradually came up to our course
and went bounding away to windward.
•‘I remember going below at the time and
just as I was about to turn in, I heard tl e
quartermaster sing out to Mr. Hardy there,
e ho was junior lieutenant of the ship and
w ao had the middle watch, that he saw a
light go up to the brig’s gaff. In two mo
ments mors I was on the poop, where I met
t be captain. This is his only son, gentlemen,
and a braver or more skillful seaman never
: rod a ship’s deck,” said tbe commodore as he
passed his hand gently over the boy’s head
who was seated beside him. But he forgot,
perhaps, to say that he had remained by the
buy’s father when he was struck dead by a
-•at non ball and that afterward he had the
lad appointed reefer and out of his own
means helped the widow to eke out her pit
tance of a pension. Yes, Commodore Crom
well forgot all that, as he smoothed the boy’s
soft hair, and with the met around hip, he
drained his glass in silence to the memory of
bis departed friend and chief, then resuming,
he went on:
“Well, in less than ten minues after the
light was seen, for it was an understood sig
nal between us, the War Horse was flying off
with a stiff breeze abaft the beam with the
crew at quarters, and the boats ready to be
lowered from the davits. When we drew up
alongside the brig, and even before, we felt
certain that our misgivings would prove true
and so they did, and merely throwing a shot
over her and dropping a couple of armed
boats into the water, we luffed round her
nows and there we saw that cursed schooner
Pindar just hoisting her sails and creeping
away to windward. We let her have two
or three division ef grape and followed np
{rarafrawnSteiii usaS ■
away her foretop—it and we saw tbe q»Ua-
tere fly in showers from her hull. However,
she was well handled and lying nearer the
wind than the War Horse. When day dawn
ed she was clear out of range, and leaving us
every moment So we np helm and ran down
again to the brig to see what mischief had
been done and to pick up our boats. Ah,
yes, you all know what had occurred, so I
will not go over the details, but the same af
ternoon, after seeing the brig pointed straight
for Port Royal, and while we were once
more on our course, we ell in with a water
logged boat, in which were half a dozen dead
and dying men. One of them was frightful
ly torn by grape shot, but before he died—we
took him on board—he gave us'some account
of the pirate he had served under and the
haunt he frequented. As near as we could
learn, the pirates’ nest was situated some
where on the south side of Cuba, on a rocky
island, having a safe and secure inlet, but as
he did not know the latitude or longitude, we
were left somewhat in the dark as to the ex
act spot. His last words were tnat the spot
could be known by a tree which grew on a
craggy eminence in the middle of the island.
W e buried them all, pirates as they were,
decently, and then we clapped on sky-sail
and moon-sail and sped on our course. Stew
ard, another bottle of wine. Ah, that’s it;
now take Mr. Burr up gently and lay him
down on my cot in the after cabin.”
Rather a striking contrast to the way Don
Joaquin treated the little boy, Tony, in the
den there en tbe island in the Twelve League
Keys.
(TO BE CONTINUED )
Dying With His Charge.
A gentleman just returned from Canada
tells the following story: “A day or so ago
the engineer of a train near Montreal saw a
large dog on the track barking furiously.
The engineer whistled, but the dog paid no
attention to the noise and refused to stir.
The dog was run over and killed. Tbe engi
neer noticed that the animal crouched close
to the ground as he was struck by the cow
catcher. A minute later the fireman saw a
bic of white muslin fluttering on the locomo
tive, and stopped the engine. On going back
to where the dog was killed, it was discover
ed that not only the dog, but a little child,
had been killed. It was then seen that the
dog had been standing guard over the child,
gold coast by the gentlemen who stands be- i and had barked to attract the attention of
fore you.”
“Rosemond, why that’s the name of my
niece,” exclaimed Byron, “and she is pret
tier and whiter than your trim little craft,
sir. But you must come with the commo
dore to our country seat and judge for your
self. By the saints, you resemble our Rose
mond, even if your schooner don’t, why,
look at him, Mr. Patrick O’Murphy.” and
Patrick did look at him, while Byron, Hem-
go and Fraizer all shook hands with him.
“Come, gentleman, do not let us keep din
ner waiting. By the way, Mr. Hardy, will
yon do me the favor to take a glass of wine
with us after gun fire.”
“Thank you.”
"Suppose you bring Mr. Burr with you. I
like little fellows, ana perhaps you will ex
cuse the boy from keeping his watch to-night.
A little extra sleep in his hammock won’t
hurt him, you know.”
Commodore Cromwell raised his hat as he
passed down the ladder and entered his cab-
: Now, gentlemen, let me get off this coat
and epaulets. There, all right. Siambo,
here put the sword in its case, and give me a
white jacket. Choose your own places, gen
tlemen. Byron, sit here on my right. Come,
steward, serve the soup, we are all ready.
Ah, so you wish to hear what became of me
after I last parted with you.”
“By all means, Cromwell, we are all ready
and waiting to hear, and—”
At that instant the orderly swung open the
port cabin doer, and standing up as rigid as
a pump bolt, with his finger to the vi9or of
his hat, he announced Lieutenant Hardy and
Midshipman Burr.
“Ah, Mr. Hardy, glad to see you, sir,” said
the commodore, rising as he spoke. “Squeeze
the engineer' Tbe faithful animal had sacri
ficed his life rather than d sert his charge.
The child had wandered away from the
neighboring house, followed by the dog, and
it is supposed that the child lay down and
went to sleep on the track.”
The Hun’sville, New Orleans and Western
Texas railway company has filed its charter
for the construction of a railroad, commenc
ing at the Sabine river in Newton county,
thence to extend to a point on the Interna
tional road a quarter of a degree south of the
thirty-first paralleL The capital stock is
4,000,000, and the principal office is at Hunts
ville.
A Vienna chemist has invented a powerful
soporific, by which a person may be made in
stantaneously a-id helplessly stupefied. It is
called “baudiger,” and the chemist invented
it in order to defend himself against a dog
which was in the habit of attacking him. Af
terward he offered it to the police as an in
strument for overpowering desperate men.
He has also invented an antidote.
Vigilance committees have been organized
in Dallas, Texas, for the purpose of suppress
ing the great number of burglars and tramps
that infest the city. When any are caught
it is proposed _ that they be bung to a lamp
post as a warning to new comers. The peo
ple mean to rid the town of them.
General Bradley T. Johnson is at the head
of a new ex-Confederate society, the Mary
land Life Association. It is designed to aid
Maryland ex-Confederates who may be desti
tute.