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Under the Lamp
With Late Books
Garrison, the Non-Resident.
HR great apostle of aboli
tion. William Lloyd Gar
rison, was born In Ncw-
buryport, Mass., Decem
ber 10, 1805. The cen
tenary of his birth is suit
ably marked by the publi
cation of Ernest Crosby’s
notable book. “Garrison
the Jion-Resistant."
it is a sympathetic
sketch of Garrison’s career
which considers slavery
and the civil war from an
entirely original point of view. In the
opinion of the author President Lincoln
made a radical mistake in undertaking
to coerce the seceding states, and the en-
thiusiasm for the “T'ninn” of sections
which hated each other he regarded as
- 'immoral in itself and the source of pro
lific subsequent evils. including dip
growth of the sentiments of imperialism
and militarism, together with the foun-
datiou- of the trusts and the aggrava
tion of the labor problem. That the war
failed to settle the race question is ob
vious. Tf tho “erring sisters’’ had been
allowed to go. slavery would, he thinks,
have died a natural death, and the states
would have reunited, the race question
having been peacefully and genuinely
solved.
Even those who fail to accept this view
of ihisttory wilt find it interesting and
full of suggestion, and the account of
Garrison’s life and the record of the per
sona] observations of the author in the
south of today a.re both vivid and entei-
taining.
Published by The Public Publishing
Chicago, 16mo. 144 pages, with photo-
Chlcjago, l6mo. 144 pages, ‘s'ltth photo I
gravure portrait) of Garrisotr 50 cents
net. r ■ I
The Patriot.
Cyrus Townsend .Brady’s ‘'The Patri
ots" is announced for a serial by The All-
Story magazine. It will run until April.
To quote the doctor's letter on the sub
ject, “This is the last serial story, long
novel that is, that I shall write for some
years.”
It is along the lines of his previous
novels of the southland, but is bey-ond a
doubt the most dramatic and thrilling
story of the kind that has come from his
pen since lie has been in literature.
In the first Instalment of “The Patri
ots.” Dr. Brady lias written a descript'on
of the Battle of Gettysburg that wil'
stand comparison with Victor Hugo’s pen
picture of Waterloo. It is of the sort
that will thrill both north and south
alike. The love story running through
his serial is everything that a love story
of that period should be: a love story
that literally vibrates with telling situa
tions and stirring moments.
Dr. Brady will be remembered as the
author of “The Southerners,’’ “A Libtle
Traitor of the South,” “Three Daughters
of the Confederacy,” etc., etc.
The Boy Pathfinder.
Second volume of the “Making of Our
Nation Series,’’ By William C. Sprague.
The plan of Mr. Sprague, well known
as the editor of "The American Boy,” to
bring out important periods in the his
tory of the development of our country
by a scries of interesting stories for
boys was successfully begun last year
by the first volume of “The Making of
Our Nation Series," which told the story
of the Louisiana purchase. This year,
with equally appropriate timeliness, ho
has written “The Boy Pathfinder, A
Story of the Oregon Trail." In this his
pleasing style lends fascination to the
romantic story of the Lewis and Clark
exposition. The hero is an actual char
acter. George Shannon, who was the only
member of the famous expedition that
was not of mature ago. It is well estab
lished that young Shannon was born in
Pennsylvania, but went with his parents
to Ohio In early boyhood, where his fath
er died. At the age of 14, the boy was
sent back to Pennsylvania to attend
school In Pittsburg, and at 17 left school
to join with Lewis and Clark. Mr.
Sprague follows actual records of the
party very closely, thereby making his
story valuable without lessening Its in
terest. Loth pop, Lee & Shepard, pub
lishers, Boston.
Part of a Man’s Life.
Colonel Higginson comes forward this
season with an interesting series of
literary reminiscences and anecdotes,
“Part of a Man's Life" (Houghton, .Miff
lin & Co.), which expresses his ripe views
upon many public questions and literary
subjects. The volume is not cast in the
•mould of formal reminiscence or autobi
ography, but has taken the very readable
shape of a series of chapters upon some
of the more important phases of the au
thor’s long life, and upon the Intellec
tual and social tendencies Q f which he has
watched the growtli through so many
years. The character or the book is
shown by such chapter titles as "The
Cowardice of Culture,’’ “American Audi
ences.’’ "The Close of the Victorian
Epoch,” “Letters of Mark.” "The Sunny
Side of the Transcendental Period,"
“English and American Cousins," "Hooks
| Unread,” “The Aristocracy of the Dollar"
and “History in Easy Lessons.” It is one
of the important new books of the sea
son, being issued in handsome style and
illustrated with Interesting portraits and
autograph facsimiles.
The Diary of a Bride.
This Is one of the most original and
readablo -books offered In some time. Be
ginning with the “fateful seven letters,
married," this bride describes her emo
tions. hopes, joys and fears during Die
first year of her wedded life. But the
book does not keep to the dead level of
honeymoon sentimentality. Instead,
while there are many little touches of af
fection. it embodies an agreeable dash
of humor, a story of home-making, a
taste for the unconventional. and.
throughout, a rambling vein of feminine
reflections on many things which make
it thoroughly attractive. Tlromas Y
Crowell, publisher. New York.
The Star Jewels.
"The Star Jewels.’’ the Initial story In
Miss Abbie Farwell Brown’s collection
of fairy stories for children (Houghton,
Mifflin & Co.), gives an authentic ac
count of the origin of starfish, which
were, of course, originally set in the sky
as five-pointed jewels. This theme is
carried out both in the text and in the
make-up of the book, the whole being in
fives, like the points of a starfish.
There are five 'little stories, five tiny
poems intimatdiy connected therewith,
live large pictures, and five smull ones.
Each is complete in itself, yet a part of
Die scheme of the book. Thus the whole
makes an acceptable chain of little jew
els, strung together for the children’s
pleasure, like the little mermaid’s neck
lace spoken of in the first story.
All the tales are wholly new and origi
nal. none being suggested by tradition
or folk-lore. The larger part are written
to prove that there are “little people’’
nowadays in this altogether too new
land of ours, and all about us too, if
we will only cultivate our sight for
them.
Miss Brown Is the author of “The
Ijonesomvs* Doll,” “In the Days of
Giants.” etc.
Dave Porter at Oak Hall.
By Edward Stratemeyer. America’s
most widely read writer of stories for
boys, Mr. Stratemeyer has entered upon
a most promising series in his happy
creation of a typical American school
boy, whose fortunes will in succeeding
volumes take him to adventures in dis
tant lands, as well as follow his life at a
popular boarding school. Never was there
a brighter, more manly, thoroughly up-
to-date boy than Dave Porter, and all
boys who read about him. and girls, too,
for the 'matter of that, will be sure to
love him from the start. How, as a green
country boy, ho went to Oak Hall, how
he was hazed, and how he had to fight
his way through until he was voted a
jolly good -fellow, and was given a place
on the school baseball team and helped
to win a great game. Is told with a
naturalness that is true to life. Lothrop,
Lee & Shepard Co., publishers, Boston.
The Joys of Friendship.
Compiled by Mary Allette Ayer. Miss
Ayer gained renown as a compiler of
unusual taste and discrimination, as well
as extent of reading, when she produced
the “Daily Cheer Year Book.” and lias
shown the same excellent Judgment in
"The Joys of Friendship.” a collection of
quoted passages referring to this noble
.theme. She has arranged the book in sec
tions, respectively entitled “The Love,"
“The Companionship.” “The Sympathy,"
"The Influence’’ and “The Immortality
of Friendship,” closing with a section
entitled "The Divine Friendship.” It is
certainly a most appropriate gift book
with its fine sentiments, faultless typo
graphy and dainty cover with design of
forget-me-nots arranged In the form of a
heart. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., pub
lishers, Boston.
An Easy Way To Make Money.
I resolved New Year’s that I would
turn over a new leaf and do all in my
power to assist others, and write you
my experience, hoping many may be ben
efited as I have been. I have made
$380 in 80 days, selling dishwashers. I
did my housework at the same time. I
do not canvass, people come or send for
the dishwashers. They're lovely to sell.
The machine washes and dries the dishes
-perfectly in three minutes, without put
ting the hands in water. Every lady
who sees it wants one, as they only cost
$5.00. I think any person can do as
well as I have. Write to the Mound
City Dishwasher Co., St. Louis, Mo., De
partment 32, and they will give you
instructions and start you in the busi
ness. Dishwashers soli to everybody—
dishes must be washed three times a
day. It will not be long before dish
washers are more numreuos than sewing
machines, as they are cheaper and used
so much more frequently. MRS W. B.
Literary Driftwood
Well Qualified.
Squiibob—That fellow over there would
make a. splendid magazine poet.
Squillig.an—A genius, eh?
Squiibob—No, but he has dyspepsia so
had that he wouldn't- hungry liv
ing.
$5.17 IS OUR PRICED,Tl'GIVEN
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l Vll #w«l I asked. For one-third the regular price, wc sell the finest range
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We also show’ our Immense variety of east iron and steel cook /
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i ust a little more than the baro cost of material and labor.yp/4j
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dealers. The Free Stove Catalogue explains our new
terms, the most, liberal ever offered, our pay after received plan, our
splendid free trial plan, wonderful offers and inducements, marvelously
low prices, such prices as surprise even us when we compare them with
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Free StovcCatalogue this minute^'*Address^ SEARS, ROEBUCK ft CO., CHICAGO, ILL
Bret Harte a Jew.
(From McClure’s Magazine.)
H. W. Boynton, author of "Bret I-Iarte.*’
in “Contemporary Men of Letters Series"
declares that the most minute search of
all documents and inquiries among per
sons who knew Bret Harte have-not en
abled him tc fix definitely tile rumors of
Harte’s Jewish ancestry. Clement Shor
ter, editor of Tho Sphere, takes issue with
Mr. Boynton and declares there is no
doubt about the matter.
He writes to an Inquirer: “7 may state
that my final authority for Bret Harte>
Jewish origin is his daughter. Miss Ethel
Bret Harte, 'for whom a fund was re
cently raised In London. Bret Harte in
his family circle recalled as a small bov
bcing taken to see the old grandfather
who was a very strict .Tew and never
entirely forgave his son for marrying a
Christian.”
Literary Censorship in China.
(From The Baltimore American.)
They have solved the problem of lit
erary censorship in China by punishing
the reader, as well as the writer, of an
objectionable book. The latter Is re
warded for his efforts by 100 blows witn
a heavy bamboo rod and banishment for
Ue: and while the punishment r.f
the reader is not so severe, it is suffi
ciently strong to act as a deterrent. The
appetite for forbidden fruit is. appar
ently under much better control in the
land of the Celestials than it is In this
country, where everybody is a. literary
law unto himself, and whore the sug
gestion that a bonk is somewhat off
color generally remits in its getting into
tlie lists as one of the season's best sell
ers.
Hugo’s Daughter.
Paul Meurice, who was buried the other
day at Paris, was Victor Hugo’s executor
and the guardian of his only surviving
daughter, Adele Hugo. She is an old lady
of 75, weak in her mind, who lives in a
small country house not far from Paris
under the care of two nurses. She has
no notion of her wealth—thanks the
royalties upon her father’s works she is
immensely wealthy—and works hard writ
ing plays which she imagines are produc
ed in Paris and the provinces. Now and
again she is brought to Paris and taken
lo a matinee at one of the theaters.
There she sits in a corner of the stage
box. believing that the play she Is watch
ing is one of her own and bowing when
Die audience applauds.
Cabbage Patch Tavern.
(From The New York World.)
Current reports from Louisville indi
cate the probability that future pilgrims
to the shrines of that community, liter
ary and otherwise, may pause for re
freshment or inspiration at the Cabbage
Pa tcii inn. At least Mrs. Wiggs is dis
posed to rent her shanty and the wg»ld-
be lessee lias asked for his license.
It has been observed by grave writers
that public houses of entertainment
have often provided the haunts of those
prominent in literature and the arts.
Chaucer cheered mine host at the
Tabard: Shakespeare, Ben Jonson and
Dieir fellows made merry at the Mer
maid; Congreve and Wycherly had their
revels at the Half Moon, and there are
other famous examples of England. For
our own side of the water we have the
literary tradition of Wayside inn, we
know of Irving listening to strange tales
at the old Bull’s Head in New York—
and wo need not mention the late Sub
way tavern, of brief hut strenuous note.
If inns may -be the haunts of genius
they may as well commemorate trans
figurations by genius. Mrs. Wiggs un
derwent one of these. She was without
distinction in her own side street, till
she was gathered on the point of a pen
and placed between book covers. The
accomplishment of realizing upon her in
letters was noteworthy. Tt is perhaps
inevitable that they who go to the Patch
therefore (to wonder shall remain to
drink.
Remembers Poe and Whitman.
There is a former citizen of the I’nited
States living in retirement at Aber
deen. Scotland, who has some fascinating
memories of Edgar Allen Poe, anj un
commonly interesting recollections of Walt
Whitman. Longfellow and other Amer
ican literary giants of th e past.
A Harvard man, this veteran’s youth
was snent in Brooklyn, N. Y., where his
fa titer’s house seems to ha 'e been a tS'eat
resort of the most famous American
writers of their day. Poe especially was
not only a regular visitor, but on such
terms of intimacy with the family that
he was In the habit of dropping in at all
sorts of unexpected times. And It is
rather pleasant to hear that frequent as
were hts visits, these friends never saw
him in a condition which raised even the
faintest suspicion of over-indulgence,
even at the time when his habits were
most irreguiar.
Seen from the eyes of a boy of seven,
Poe proved an unusually attractive fig
ure.
“I always went to him,” he says, “with
the utmost confidence, and I have most
vivid recollections of going and looking
up into his face and pleading, ’Mr. Poe,
will you oblige me by reciting “Tile Ra
ven"?’ Never once did he refuse, and
many and many a time I heard ‘The
Raven’ declaimed by its author alone.
Leaning against his chair, or perhaps ol-
tener sitting on his knee, I was able not
only to catch the very tones of his voice,
but to note the changing methods as re
flected on his expressive face. The im
pression remains with me today. It was
the most weird experience one could im
agine. Poe had a very melodious voice
which when he wished had a considerable
amount of resonance. He would begin,
and—but 1 can't describe his elocution-
He wrote the poem, and as he recited it
he seined to be giving to every line imag- '
shade of meaning i : had in his own imag
ination when he had firs; conceived it. lie
carried you along with him from the first
to the last as h e worked steadily toward
the climax. His voice took many a
strange inflection in tone, especially at
the close of each verse. ’Nevermore.’ as
he uttered it, was a word full of deep
meaning. Now it was said a? if in In
terrogation. -gain in indignant anger,
and vet again in a croaking whisper.
At the close of the verse next to ihe last'
#ic shieked the ‘evermore,’ and there
followed a strikin pause."
Walt Whitman this former Brooklyn
hoy knew intimtely at a period some
years later. Yttitman had then pub
lished several i. his works and held an
appointment ii the New York customs
house. “It vis characteristic of him,"
says this eviri»tly keen observer, “that
he always miked across to Brooklyn,
and was ne-or known lo take an omni
bus or a r-JT- As he came sauntering
along his hotline figure at once arrested
attention. He walked in a careless, devil-
may-care .limner, but without any swag
ger—his lire breast, heavily matted with
hair, ful/ exposed alike in summer and
Winter. Host striking of all, however,
was tin fat fway look In his eyes. He
was aloay. . uzing up, ne\-er down, and
if he ifid met his own brother in tlie
street he would never have seen him.
It w;d certainly not a vacuous expres
sion, but rather an engaged and preoccu
pied one. This characteristic was iike-
wis< apparent in company. Even in a
Bohemian club, much frequented by lit -
erary men. he was never lively or jocu
lar, but more of a contemplative mood.
a:fl would sometimes sit for an hour
without speaking.”
Tlie Kipling Question.
(Front The Syracuse Post-Standard.)
Although it is supposed by some Eng
lishmen Chat America is tlie only place
where Mr. ITipling's works are still read
.with enthusiasm; the Kipling question is
still discussed ardently in Kipling’s
island. An essayist by the name of
Masterman is the latest to denounce the
author of “Kim” as a producer of the
literature of artificial brutality. Air.
Masterman says:
“The blind and gibbering maniac at
the end of ‘The Light That Failed,’ who
shrieks, ‘Give 'em hell, oh, give ’em
hell,’ from the security of an armored
train, while his companions annihilate
their enemies by pressing th-e button of
a machine gun, seemed not only a pos
sible but even a reputable figure.
“But with the coming of actual war in
South Africa,” continues Mr. Masterman,
"the literautre of the reaction fell, first
Pinto shrillness, then into silence. Read
today, the whole thing stands remote
and fantastic, the child of a time infin
itely far away. Of its authors some are
dead and some- continue a strange, shad
owy life in an alien time. Mr. Kipling
compiles such mournful productions as
’Traffics and Discoveries.' But the pipe
fails to awaken any responsive echoes.
Even those who before had approved
now turn away their heads. lie appears
like one dancing and grimacing in the
midst of the set grave faces of a silent
company.”
There Is, of course, nothing new in this
sort of talk. Robert Buchanan began it
at least six years ago when he charac
terized Mr. Kipling’s voice as "the voice
of the Hooligan" or the London tough.
He said that Kipling's lamentable pro
ductions were “concocted not for sane
men or self-respecting soldiers, not even
for those who are merely ignorant and
uninstructed, but for the ‘mean whites'
of our western civilization, the idle and
loafing men in the street and for such
women as shriek at their heels.’’
A just reply to Mr. Buchanan was
made by Walter Besant. who quoted the
Recessional hymn as the work of the
one poet who saw as in a. vision of in
spiration the one thing that needed to
be sad to recall the British people from
their orgy of power and of glory. "I
know,” said Mr. Besant, “of no poem
in history so opportune, that so went
home to all our hearts.”
If Kipling was the poet of the English
race at the time when militarism more
or less brutal was in the ascendant cer-
lainly he has shown himself capable of
speaking for his people In other moods,
of painting in striking colors in peace as
well as in war the picture of things
as they are, and of looking forward in a
spirit which seems like prophecy to the
great changes of the world In the cen
tury on whose threshold we stand. Prob
ably no other living writer so well em
bodies the spirit of the times.
Literary Sectionalism.
(From The Columbia State.)
From 1834 to 1864 there flourished In
Richmond a magazine known as The
Southern Literary Messenger, which l-ai
a tremendous influence 'itipon southern
thought and upon the careers of young
writers in the south. It was distinctly
southern, often to the point of proY’in-
e'alism or even parochialism. This is nor
saying or intimating that Jt iwaa not also
very able, and. as a rule, well con
ducted and rightly and justly influential:
but inasmuch as it was “southern” it
was not representative of American lit
erature. of the thought of the people of
the entire country. Its underlying pur
pose. the spear concealed in Its wreath
of flowers, is shown in the motto used
by one of Its, last editors Dr. Benjamin
Blake Minor: “In the south and for
tho south; In the union for the union.”
Now a magazine of literature, above
all things else, should not be for any sec
tion, but for all. A sectional literature
may" be Interesting, but -it cannot he
great. Its limitations in space restrict
and cramp It in quality and breadth of
outlook. It wants inspiration, perspec
tive, grasp, and reach. And. above all.
it wants catholicity of taste. No matter
how strong and fine it may be, it can
not represent literature in its coun
try, amid its people. in its
time. It catches and reflects fractimi!.
shivered rays of the nation’s mind, and
never the full light, never the flower
of its thought.
AVe hope that no effort may be made to
establish a purely "southern” magazine.
That would be a very lamentable error.
Such a project could only result in fail
ure. and. wc must say, it wotild merit
failure. The soul!: does not need and
does not wish a sectional magazine
1-iterat-irre. It is proud of Die achieve
ment? of some of its “sons.” as we af
fectionately call them, according to a
yen-, rable tradition and inherited habit.-:
of cordial speech, but we understand -fully
that their work, to be enduring, nust
enter into competition with the talent
and genius of the whole nation—nay, of
the whole world. They cannot be groat
in the soutn alone, where they are t->o
apt to be judged by the rye of affection
and sectional and parochial pride, rather
than by universal tenets and canons of
c-'i’.iclsnn. There are no great prizes
to be agonized for in ihe dust of narrow
arrnas. The whole country and the
whole world is the arena of the man
of letters. And like the soldier, whom
Schiller calls the only true freeman, ne
stands and fights there rf lying upon Hint-
self alone. No local prejudice may long
sustain him, and no local nr sectional
piide can be rightly esteemed Dy ni... as
a worthy reward.
ABNER DANIEIL.
Continued from Fourth Page.
•horror of what he regarded as t»n unt'a-
vi;r„oie turn in the proceedings.
•'that’s entirely too indefinite to silt
my clients,’’ said tlie lawyer. ‘Do you
suppose, Mr. Wilson, taut they want to
hang their property up on a hook iik:
that? Why, jf you didn’t attend to push
ing your road through—well, they would
simply be in your hands, the Lord only
knows h-ciw long.”
"But we intend to do all we can to
sh-ove it through, said Wilson, with a
flush.
"You know that is not a business-like
proposition. Mr. Wilson." said Miller,
with a bland smile. “Why. it amounts
to an option without any limit at all."
“Oh. I don't know." said Wilson, lame
ly. "Mr. Bishop will be interested ’list
as we are in getting a right of ,vay
through—in fact, it would insure tts of
iiis iylp. The citizens through whose
property the road runs must be per
suaded to contribute the land for the
purpose, and Mr. Bishop, of course, has
influence lip here with his neighbors."
“Still he would be very imprudent,”
said Miller, “to option his property with
out any limit. Now here’s what we are
willing to do. As iong as you hold M”.
Bishop’s note for twenty-five thousan l
dollars unpaid, you shall have the de-
fusai of the land at one hundred thou
sand dollars. Now take my advice" —
Miller was smilingly broevtly—“let l;
stand at that."
Wilson reflected for a momen, and then
he said: “All right: let that go. Tha
olher condition is this—and it need be
only a Y-erbal promise—that nothing be
said about my company’s making this
loan nor our securing the refusal of the
property.”
“That, will suit us,’’ said Miller. "Mr.
Bishop doesn't cafe to have the public
know his business. Of course, the mort
gage will have to be recorded at the
court house, but that need not attract,
atte.ntion. r don't blame Mr. Bishop,"
(went on Miller, in a half-confidential
tone. “These people are the worst gos
sips you ever saw. If you meet any jf
them they will tell you that Air. Bishop
has bu'sted himself wide open by buy'ng
so much timber land, but this loan will
make him as solid as the Batik of Eng
land. The people don't understand his
■dealings, and they are trying to take it
out on him by blastine his reputation
for being one of the solldest men in his
county.”
Well, that's all. I believe.’’ said W*l«
son. and Aliller drew a blank sheet of
legal-cap paper t<> him and began to
write. Half an hour later the papers
were signed and Aliller carelessly handed
Wilson’s crisp pink check on a New
York hank to Mr. Bishop.
“There you are. Mr. Bishop." he said,
with a smile: “you didn’t want any one
else to have a finger in that big pie of
yours over there, but you needed monej.
and I’ll tell you as a friend that a hun
dred thousand cash down will be about
as well as you can do with that land. It
takes money, and lots of it. t.o make
money, and Air. Wilson's company can
move the thing faster than you can!”
“That’s a fact," said Wilson, in a tone
that betrayed self-gratification. “Now
we must all pull together for the rail
road.” He rose and turned to Aliller.
“Will you come with me to record the
paper?”
"Certainly.” said Aliller, and they both
left together.
Tlie Bishop family were left alone, and
the strain being lifted, they found them
selves almost wholly exhausted.
“Is It all over?" gasped the old wom
an standing up an.d grasping her son's
arm.
"We've got his money.” Alan :old her.
with a glaa smile, “and a fair chance for
more.”
The pink check was fluttering in old
Bishop’s hand. Already the old self-
willed look that brooked no interference
with his personal affairs was returning to
liis wrinkled face.
"I'll go over to Cra“s TTtnk an' de
posit it," he said to Alan. "It’ll take a
day or two to collect it. but he'd let me
check on it right r.ow fer any reasonable
amount.”
“I 'believe I’d ask him not to mention
the deposit," suggested Alan.
“Hull! I reckon I've got sense enough
to do that.”
"I thought you Intended to pay off tlie
mortgage on our farm the fust tiling,
ventured Airs. Bishop.
"We can’t do it till tlie note s due next
January,” said Bishop, shortly. “I agreed
lo keep the money a veer, an’ Martin
Doe ’ll make me hold to it. But what do
you reckon l care as long as I’ve got
some’n' lo meet it with?”
Mrs. Bishop’s face fell. “I'd feel better
about it if it was cleer," she faltered.
"But Die I/ord knows we ort to feel
thankful to come out as we have. If it
hadn’t been fer Alan—Air. Miller said that
Alan—"
'a£f you ali Slicin'? made secTi a eternal
row,” 'broke- in Bishop, testily, “i d a
had more timber land than this. Colo
nel Barclay has as fine a strip as any l
got, an’ he's bantered me for a trade
time an' agin.”
Abner Daniel seldom sneered at any
body. Ho matter what the provocation
was, .but it seemed impossible for him to
refrain from it now.
“You've been lookin' fer the last' three
months like a man that needed mote
land," he said. “Jest no furder back ’an
last nftjht you ’lowed- ef you could git
enough fer yore Tolly to raise the debt
off'n yore farm you’d die happy, an' now
yo're a-T Datin' beca’ee you didn’t buy up
the sfiles 6* (he earth an’ give nonody
else a foothold. Le’ me tell you the truth,
even ef it does hurt a little Ef Alan
hadn't thought o* this heer railroad idea,
you’d ’a' been the biggest human pan
cake that ever lay flat in its own
grease.”
"I hain't said nothin’ to the contrary,
admitted Bishop, who really took the re
proof well. “Alan knows what 1 think
about it."
Then Bishop and bis wife went to
Craig's bank, and a moment later Miller
return* d, rubbing his hands with satis
faction.
“We got th ough, and he’s gone to catch
lit? train." ne said.
"It ’.vokec' as smooth as goose grease.
I wonder v. hat Bole Baker said to him,
or ii' he ravv him. 1 have an idea lie did.
f- nt the way Wilson danced to our
music.”
"Heer’s Pole row," said Abner, from Die
door. ’ Come in beer, you triflin’ loafer,
an' give an account o' yorese’f.”
"1 seoci i'ii mnkin’ fer tlie train,
laughed Pole, “an' so I sneaked in l i
sie whn. you-uns don*’. He walked like
fce owned tee town."
“It went through like lightning, with
out a hitch or a bob'*le.' \bner tcld him.
“We was jest a-wonderin' what you shot
into ’im.”
“1 hardly know."' Pole snickered. "I
go; to talkin' to 'tin an’ i: l inked to me
like I was chippin’ off tanbark with Die
sharpest tool I ever handled. Every lick
stunned to draw blood, am ne stood an
By S. M. Gardenhire.
LeDroit Conners as the hero
of these adventures must rank
w ith the <j;reat figures in detective
fiction.
“An entirely different sort of
detective from Sherlock Holmes.
Xot one of the adventures hut at
the outset seems an impenetrable
mystery. A profoundly interest
ing book.”—Brooklyn Eagle.
“Conners is an unusually ar
resting figure, one who not only
piques our curiosity, but wins our
sympathy and admiration.”—
Philadelphia Public Ledger.
“Cleverly worked out. exciting
and readable.”—N. Y. Sun.
Harper & Brothers.
tuck it without a start or a shiver. 1
su.d to myst- t: Tale n.iKt-r. >■- re no.liin
but a rag-tug, boo-tail mountain llooster,
an' ties a suck uuck tro.u up -n rui. wun
a gold waten chain an' a sine oeaver, nut
lie s a-lappin’ up wiiat yon say like a
Hungry kuien does a pan o' milk, t.o ii,
old boy. an' el you win, you !i be the
finest man out o' troutne—i meant Alan
Bisnop. by gum—that ever lived.’ it
seemed to me l was filled witn the lire
<>t heaven. L could a' ?>ee:t at it yet—
fer I'd jest started—but he tlrawed his
watch on me. an’ made a shoot fer this
office, me with 'im. fer leer some yokel
would strike up with 'im.- I mighty nign
shoved ’ini in at tlie door."
"You did noble, ' said Aliller. while Pole
and Alan were silently clasping hands.
"Now, I told you we wouldn't forget
you. Go down to Wimbley s and tell
him to give you the best suit of clothes
he's got. and to charge them lo me n
Alan.”
Pole drew himself up to nls full height,
and stared at the lawyer with flashing
eyes
"Damn yote soul." he said: "don't you
say a thing like that to me agin. I’ll
have you know I’ve got feelin’s as well
aj ,\<u oi“\anybody else. I’d cut off this
right arm/ an' never wince to do Alan
Bishop a fat'Or. but I'll 'be danged ef any
body kin look me over after I've done a
little one an' pay me far it in store
clothif. I don't like that one bit, an’ 1
ain't afeerd to say so."
"I didn't mean any offense, Pole,” apol
ogized Miller, most humbly.
"Well, you wouldn't ’a’ said it to some
men,” growled Pcle, “I know that. A.aen
I want pay fer a thing like that. I'll
jest go to that corner o' the street an'
look down at that rock pile, whar Alan
found me one day an' paid me out jest to
keep me from bein’ the laughin' stock o'
this town.”
Al'n put his arm over his shoulder.
"Rayburn didn't mean any harm.” he
said, gently. "You are both my friends,
and we’ve had a big victory today; let's
not have hard feelings."
Pole hung his head stubbornly, and
Aliller extended his hand. A*^ r Daniel
was an attentive listener, a naif smile
on his face.
“Say, Pole," he said, with a liPle laugh,
“you run do- n to Wimoley's an’ tell 'lin
not to wrop up that suit. I'm a-owin’
him a bill, an’ he kin jest credit the
value of it on nty account.”
Pole laughed heartily and thrust his big
hand into Allller's.
“Uncle A'b,” he said, “you'd make a dog
laugh."
"I believe yo're right," said Abner, sig
nificantly, and then they all roared at
Pole's expense.
The next day Alan received the follow
ing letter from Dolly Barclay:
"Dear Alan: Rayburn Aliller told me
in confidence of your wonderful success
y,-tetchy, and 1 simpiy cried with joy.
I knew—I felt that you would win, and
this is, as he says, a glorious beginning.
1 am so proud of you, and I am so full
of hope today. All our troubles wilt
come out right some day, and-imw that i
know you love me I can wait, rtayburn
would not have confided so much to me,
but lie said, vvhtle he would not let me
tell father anything about the prospective
railroad, he wanted me to prevent him
from selling his tract of land near yours.
You know my father consults me about
all bis business, and lie will not dispose ot
that property without my knowing of it.
Oh. wouldn't it be affine joke on him to
have him profit by your good judgment? ’
Alan was at the little postoffice in Fil-
more’s store when lie received the letter,
and he folded it and restored it to its en
velope with a heart filled avith love and
tenderness. As he walked home through
Die woods, it seemed to him that every
thing in nature was ministering to hts
bounqless happiness. He felt as light as
air as he strode along. “God bless her
dear, dear little soul'." he said, fervently,
tTo Be Continued.)
Hunters! Traders! Trappers!
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