Newspaper Page Text
c
THE SUNNY SOUTH.
FOURTH PAGE
f
APRIL 21, !90S.
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Fate’s Beggar Maid jZ?
By TOM GALLON
AUTHOR OP: “Tatterley,” “Dickey Monteith,” “A
Rogue in Love,
chance,’’
‘Kiddy,”
‘The Dead Ingleby,
‘A Prince of Mis-
Etc.
Copyright, 1905, by the National
Press Agency.
fcyncupsis of Opening Chapters: John
Falconer’s son rescues a lady from a
disagreeable situation at a wayside Inn.
The father expects the daughter of a
one-time partner, wlj.o alone knew of
an early business fraud, to bring him a
document. Haunted liy the suspicion
that the girl, too, knows the secret, he
arranges to have her brought to his office
at night-time. This is tne lady his son
had rescued. ~
CHAPTER III.
A BLOW IN THE DARK.
HAT lady of the blue eyes—
Miss Rutlh Arkett—carry-,
ing with her that message
from the dead to John
Falconer, had found Lon
don a hard place In which
to live. As ha.s ben sug
gested, she was utterly Ig
norant of iways and means;
# utterly Innocent as re-
garded the great world in-
to which she had been
plnngeck Since her earliest
days she had lived with
her father in a quiet old house outside
« country village; had learnt from him—
a grim, sardonic creature, with no illu
sions left—that the world outside that
house was a place of terror. Already,
In her first plungo Into It, she had dis
covered that much; had read the brutal
evil In men’s faces in that inn wherein
Martin Falconer hail rescued her. Now
in London, to which she came with the
heart and tlie mind of a little child, sha
was destined to fare still worse.
As has been told, she began extrava
gantly-erring through Ignorance. She
had but little money, because her father
had cfled a poor man, wit'h debts to be
paid; and because, had she but known It,
she was entrusted by that father's dying
plea to the man to whom she carried
her message—John Falconer.
She had to watnh day by day while
her money dwindled; and yet was still
afraid to approach John Falconer. The
end of a week found her in that poor
garret at No. 2 Cablegardens, Westmin-
srer, and almost penniless. Then it was
that she sent Ojat note to John Fal
coner's office; she felt that the matter
could no longer be delayed.
Curiously enough, it came about that
she sent the note. Instead of taking It In
person or of posting it. Even poverty
has its friendship and misery its ac
quaintances, and poor Ruth Arkett, look
ing W'itli wide eyes of terror out on to a
London that meant to starve her, had
found a friend, and that friend a
woman.
That abominable thing called rent had
been demanded of Ruth,-and she had not
been able to supply it. A certain Mrs.
Batkin, landlady of that miserable House
In which she found herself, had climbe*
several flights of stairs to impress upon
the girl wheezily that a certain sum was
due; had met a halting explanation with
an indifferent shrug, and with the curt
remark that the money must be paid
that day or the girl woul^l be turned into
the streets. Mrs. Batkin was not one to
mince matters; troublesome stairs and
still more troublesome lodgers bad
shortened alike her breath and her tem
per.
Then it was that the frtrrm came on the
scene. In the greet republic of poverty,
which Ruth Arkett had so unwillingly
joined, this woman was as poor as her
self; only poverty had hardened .her, and
she knew more of the game of fighting
it than Ruth did. She introduced her
self cheerily enough as she came into the
room and laid a 'hand on the girl’s shoul
der. For in that hour of despair Ruth
had her head down on a table, and wai 1
crying.
"If you're going to be upset by Mother
Batkin.. I don’t know what's going to
l>e.eoma of you,'* said the woman. "Let’s
look at you, dear," she <added, raising
the girl’s fac e not unkindly, and staring
Into it with her hard eyes. "Ah! you’re
the sort to feel it. I listened outside
1he doc inst now. and lieaTd what was
said. Mother Batkin can let her tongue
wag when she likes. What a-re you go--
ing to do?”
"I don’t know," said the girl, help-
lessljv "Where did you come from?"
The woman before her must once have
heen handsome; traces of beauty lin
gered yet about her rather fine eyes, and
-about a well-molded mouth and chin.
She wag so-me years older than the girl,
and she was poorly and shabbily dress
ed.
“I live across the landing," she said,
with a jerk of her head toward the
door. "Nance Ryder they call me, and
that’s enough to go on with. What I
was doesn’t matter”—she turned her head
away for a moment, although she spoke
defiantly—‘‘what I a mmatter* still less.
Only It happens that you can trust me.
and that I’m quite prepared to fight
Mother Batkin, or forty Mother Bat
kins, If you like. How are you going to
get money?”
“There is some one to whom I can
write—som e one wlno will help me. 1
think," replied Ruth. "Only I’ve been
hesitating to send to hint."
“Him? Don’t go to a man if you can
help It,” said t'he won nan, bitterly.
“He was a friend of my father.” said
Ru-th.
“That’s different; he may be useful.
Where does he live?”
“His office is in the city.” replied the
girl. “But I scarcely know if I could
find the place." she added.
“Let mo help you.” said Nance.
"Write the note and let me take it. It
will be quicker than posting. It’s rather
late for the city,” sh P added, medita
tively; “but I’ll hurry."
The note was written, and It was Nanc^
Ryder who dropped it into the letter
box in Flower’s Court, and was watched
by Saul Capstick. Nance, never doubt
ing for a moment that tfh e office was
closed and empty, went back to her new
friend, and explained that sometlilng else
must be done.
“You can’t hear from your friend until
tomorrow, and tonight, If you can t find
woney, you’ll be homeless. I’d do some
thing for you myself if I could." she
added, “but I’ve only just managed to
pay my own rent. I’m as poor as you
are. Have you nothing of any value on
which you can raise money?”
iRuth shook her, head.
"Nothing I would care to- part with,”
■she replied.
"Oil, you don’t need to part with
things.’’ said Nance, with a laugh.
“But if you've anything of value that
might be pawned, you can redeem it
when your ship comes homes. Why, if
you see your friend tomorrow-, it might
only a question of a few hours before
you have as much money as you want.”
"I have this,” said the girl, drawing
from her bosom something suspended by
a light chain round her neck. “It is a
miniature of my mother.”
The other woman took it reverently
enough, and whistled softly as she looked
at it.
“My dear girl,” she said, "you can
get pounds on this. These are diamonds
Tound the frame here.”
"It was my mother\s picture,” the girl
reminded her.
"Oh, don’t imagine that I'd lose it,”
replied tlie other, -hastily. “Look here,”
she added, weighing the -miniature in its
sparkling frame in her hand critically,
“will you trust -me with it? I'll go out
presently and see what I can raise on
It; I know -more of that business than
you do. Besides, you might blunder and
break down, and -pawnbrokers are suspi
cious people.”
“I'll trust you willingly,” said Ruth,
“if you’re sure 1 shall get it (back.”
“-I'm certain of that—if you can find
the money -to redeem it,” said Nance.
“And when you do get the money, clear
our of this place,” she went on, in a
lower tone. "With those eyes, and jour
youth and innocence—'well, jnou’re not
safe here. Have you no -friends besides
this man to whom you have written to
day?”
“Yes, one other,” said Ruth, and
'thought of Martin Falconer.
Nance Ryder remained chatting for
some time, until it was growing late,
then she started on her errand. Hiding
the miniature in her dress, site walked
toward the door, and then stopped sud
denly and turned back.
"Did j-ou call?” she asked.
RUth shook her head, and looked at
her In some surprise. “No,” she re
plied.
“Et’s very strange,” said Nance, look
ing about her vaguely. “I thought for
a moment -that you or some one called
to one.”
“No,” said Ruth again.
“It's uncanny,” said the woman, with
*u. nervous laugh. "I never felt like this
before.” She brushed her hand across
her forehead for a moment, and seemed
to shiver. ”1 don’t know what s come
over me,” she said.
“You’re not ill?” asked Ruth, anx
iously, moving -toward- her.
"No, not in the least,” replied Nance.
“There, it’s gone again now. If I were
superstitious, I should say that some
thing was going to happen to me. Well,
I won’t he long; 1 ought to get a tidy
tilt on this.”
Nance Ryder came out of the house
and -walked quickly away on her errand.
She was a little doubtful in 'her own mind
as to whether or not she would be suc
cessful; the miniature was so valuable,
and it might ibe difficult to persuade a
pawnbroker t-hiat she had come by it
honestly. However, the trial must be
made, for Nance was absolutely honest,
and had quite made up her -mind to help
this friendless girl if she could.
Coming out of Cable-gardens, and
making 'her -way toward the broader
streets, she was unaware that she was
Ibeing followed. As a matter of fact,
however, Mr. Saul Capstick, remembering
that Ruth Arkett was to keep a certain
appointment -with -his master that night,
had returned to the lodging house in
search of her, and therefore saw her, as
'he Imagined come out of the -house. Of
course, he saw Nance Ryder In reality,
but as Nance had already appeared in the
'business, and fce had seen her drop the
letter Into the 'letter box in Flower's
court, -it never ocucrred to him that -this
could be any other -person than Ruth.
It happened, further, -mat he -was to be
confirmed in that mistake within a very
few 'minutes.
“Nance, all unconscious of the watch
ful man following her. dived at last into
the side door of a pawnbroker's shop.
In the passage Inside were a .number of
little doors, each leading to a separate
compartment, for t'he greater -privacy
of -those customers who did not desire
to bo seen while transacting their busi
ness. One of these doors the woman
opened, and wont into the compartment
just las Mr. Saul Capstick, coming into
the passage opened the door of that ad
joining and slipped inside He had timed
his coming; very well, the man behini
the counter was already attending to
the woman. a.nd Mr. CaptsJck had per
force to wait.
“Where did you get this?” It was the
voice of the pawnbrower, and Mr. Cap-
stick, looking around the partition saw
that the inan held the miniature in his
palm.
"It's an heirloom,” replied the woman,
quietly. “You’ll see a monogram on the
back of it; it's a little 'worn, but you
we did. Tfauu is an ugly word, and even I horror for him that he crossed the room J swept over him that she came alone,
when it is never detected it is none the
less fraud. You treated me badly; you
case me aside when it suited you to do
so. But you were a fool, John Fal
coner, for you left in my hands the
proofs of what we had done. I am dy
ing—shall be dead when you read this—
and they can not touch me. Wit'h you
it will be different. 1 have waited my
hour; now 1 give the work to another to
do. My daughter shall deal with you;
my daughter shall teach yoq what a
father's revenge is like. She ha’s all the
papers. She has my full instructions
what to do with them. You must deal
only with her.
“GORDON ARKETT.’’
He thought bitterly enough about the
phrases; he felt he knew what tlie dead
-man had schemed, and how this girl,
probably' as vindictive -as her father,
would not hesitate to expose hi.m. or to
blackmail him.
“ ‘My daughter shall deal with you;
my daughter shall teach you what her
fat'her’s revenge is like. She has all
the papers.’ I’ll settle this matter in
some fashion tonight. I won’t let a
weak woman stand in the way,” he
thought, bitterly.
Always he kept before hi in the fact
that the girl was to be there at his of
fice at 10 o’clock that night. Capstick
was to be trusted; a.nd. after all, Capstick
would know nothing beyond the 'fact that
the woman had entered the iplaee. From
tha>.point tihe matter iwas in John Fal
coner’s hands, and Capstick was dona
with.
Falconer plotted the thing with care
ful ingenuity. He had his guests in
the house. He must get away from
•them on some excuse, and roust return
to them, that was certain. For while
Falconer would not have admitted, even
to himself, that he contemplated the
death of this woman—would, indeed, have
to an alcove and flung back the curtain j that no one knew that she was there,
suddenly, quite as though he feared some j save the confidential and always-to-be-
■one might be hidden there. Then he
drew back, and waited.
As a matter of fact, the wondering
Nance Ryder, under that assumed name
of Ruth Arkett, had been brought to
the door of the house, and had been told
smilingly by Saul Capstick that Mr. Fal
coner was there, and was waiting to
see her. After all, there was no harm
in that. Mr. Falconer was a great man
in the city, and this was his office, and
iters a private errand. There was no
■fear in her; she taw the man open the
door and she went in. Only when the
door was closed, and she was left in the
trusted Caipstlck; and that she came
singing light-heartedly. lie would stop
that song on her lips—here in the dark
ness where he waited.
For he had switched out the light
He stood near to the fireplace, and he
had caught up from there the heavy old
steel poker he had held in his hands
•more innocently many any many a time
before. He weighed It now as a weapon,
while he waited as the woman climbed
the stairs, still singing.
He coughed, and the singing stopped
instantly. Then a voice, a little fright
ened. asked if Mr. Falconer was there.
darkness, did iter heart begin to beat a j coughed again. A faint light shone
can see the letters ‘R’ and ’A.' These ( repelled such a thought at that
little rapidly; only then (lid she begin to
suppose that here was some trick. Yet
it must be written to her credit that
she set her teet h, a.nd congratulated her
self on the fact that she—the stronger
■and more experienced-was here, to face
any hidden danger, rather than the girl
in whose place she stood. She had been
told to go up the stairs; and she went
slowly.
The belter to give her courage, she
sang to herself as she went. It was
some old snatch of a song, with a cure
less lilting air; but, incidentally, it sealed
her doom. For the waiting man above,
hearing it, read into It the careless
apathy of this creature who was coming
to destroy him. Swiftly the remembrance
through a window at the end of th
room; into that light sne advanced. He
could make out dimly where she stood,
looking about her curiously. The man
crouched as for a spring, and then
brought down his weapon wit it terrific
‘force upon her dimly-defined head. She
sank down without a groan or a cry.
There was yet something to be done;
he must get the ipapers. That was his
one thought then. Beyond that lay
other things, not to be thought of now—
vague ideas about the hiding of the body,
the suggestion -of foul p.’ay by someone
who might have gained admittance to
the room. He stooped, and touched the
woman; he iwas afraid, knowing what ho
had done, to turn on tlie light.
Even as he stooped, he heard down be-
low in the house a movement. He wsft*
ed, kneeling on one knee, and listened.
Ho could have sworn that someone was
coming up the sains. With his flesh
creeping, and the hair stirring on his
scalp, lie got up and went towards tho
door. He must get o'ut of this plaoe. the
rest might wait. He could come in rne
dead -of night, or earlier than anyone else
on the morrow—-might even snatch
papers, and then raise the alarm. He
opened the door and went out. on to the
staircase, and crept down through the
darkness.
Once he thought he heard again a
stealthy movement. He waited, and
called sharply: “Who’s there?” Bin
there was no reply. He -gained the outer
door and eipenel It quietly. Looking mr
into the dark court he saw. to his relief,
that there was no one in sight. He
closed the door sharply and began to run.
Realizing in a, moment the absurdity of
this, he checked his pace to a. walk, got
into a cab. and was driven back to Ken
sington. He gained the h-c'use and h a
room without difficulty, and presen* ly
came down among his guests, with pro
fuse apologies. He was much rested, he
said, much refreshed.
Ursula Falconer was watching him
steadily; lie lowered his eyes before
gaze. Se was white to the lips, but she
smiled as ever in bidding her guests good
night.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
aire t'he letters of my name—iand was my
mothgr’s.”
“And what la your name?” asked the
man, suspiciously.
"Ruth Arkett,” .replied Nance.
Now. the initials on the miniature and
the name had been told her by Ruth
ATkett herself, and Nance fe.lt that she
■would simplify -matters for the girl in tne
future, and (for herself at t'he moment,
if she gave that name. Mr. Saul Cap-
stick in the next compartment nodded
qnietly. and felt that after all he had
managed the business rather cleverly.
Meanwhile the pawnbrower was speak
ing.
“I can't lend j’on anything on this,” he
said; “the thing’s much too valuable
and the risk is too great. 1 .must have
some further particulars before I can
deal with you. If you care to leave it—”
But Nance Ryder, suspicious of trouble,
had suddenly snatched the miniature
from his hand, and was out in the pass
age before the man could move. The
man laughed, and turned to Capstick.
“I thought as much,” he said, know-
inglj’. “Stole—or I’m a Dutchman. How
ever. I don’t want to spend a day -at tlie
police court; let her try somewhere else.
Now, sir. what can I do for you?”
The paiwnbrower was still more aston
ished when Mr. Capstick, muttering that
he had changed his mind, turned and
bolted out also. The clerk was just, in
time to see the supposed Ruth Arkett
disappearing round a corner: he at onc»
gave chase, and came up with her,
breathless. She turned and faced him
•defiantly, evidently believing for a mo
ment that the pawnbrower had sent ti
detain her.
“Miss Arkett?” said Saul, raising liis
hat about two inches from his head, and
getting it drop again into place.
Nance looked at him frowningly. "What
do you want?”’ she demanded
Leaves from an Old
Scrap Book
Continued from Second Page.
eight millions of dollars worth before all
Ohio and Indiana could slop him. Pretty
dear success, this. Still 1 won't rejoice
over it at Lincoln’s dictation.—But wait
till President Davis' day comes round.
Perhaps bj" that time Meade may get
another whipping, and if you don't see
with horror—he had yet gofto so far as
to know in his own mind that he must
create, if possible something of an | rejoicing and* thanksgiving, then j'ou may
well believe that you and your officious
local fail to see half that exists in Mem
phis. Now you wonts publish this por-
phis. Now you won’t publish this per-
say the reason is because T don't put my
real name to it. You can do as you please
about it. I choose to sign it
"MARY LEE THORNE."
alibi. He must absent -himself; but. >t
must be on another excuse. He decide 1
that -he must take his wife i.nto his con
fidence. He knew that if he said that it
was necessary' he. should disappear
for a time. the bond of con
fidence was so great between
them that she would not question him.
He contrived to speak to her alone for
a moment or two. at a little after 9
o'clock. Her face shewed that she Knew
what was passing in has mind—that she
shared with him the teirsion of the time.
RICHMOND SHOWED HER TEETH.
Said The Richmond Dispacth:
"Richmond shows her teetlv Her
guardian, Robert E. Lee, having gone
off with the boys on a little summer tour
, to Maryland and Pennsylvania, she has
J .mult get away—on a matter of jm- fo PPn forced to take care of herself. A
portative—for about an hour, or perhaps party of yankee rapscallions hearing of
longer," he whispered. j her unprotected condition, have crept up
“I understand,” she replied. “If you ; to the white house, with the intention of
(insulting and robbing her. They don't
know the old lady. Tier quick ear caught
the sound of their fumbling and fooling
could smooth out your brow’s a little,
and contrive to smile as though you were
talking commonplaces, it might be bet
ter.”
He started and looked round qmlekly at
hfr„and laughed. "I haven’t your cour
age,” he paid. “Well, wha.t do you sug-
guest?”
“A iplea of illness is the safest thing,”
she replied. “You have been working
hard, and you are run down. A mere
sudden faintness, and I excuse you to
your guests, and you go to your room
for a time. No o.ne will disturb you.
A little later, when your guests are de
parting, you put in an appearance, with
■many apologies. Don't worry; trust me
to help you.”
“I do,” he said, touching her hand- for
a moment.
Accordingly it happened that Mr. John
Falconer complained once or twice of
the heat of the room; that his wife hur
ried to his side and bent over him ten
derly; that he presently leant on the
arm of a friends, and (with murmured
apologies was led- away. Ursula Fal-
“I happen to know, quite by accident. ; <oner d€ P ,ored th « that ha ^ rkpa
•tha.t you -are Miss Ruth Arkett." said 80 hard - and wou ^. take "° J : f" a
Capsticl*. confidently. “You left a note door 0,osed U P°" h,m > and fo1 an hour
pstie!^. confidently
this evening at an office in the city—
the office of Mr. John Falconer.’’
“Well, wha.t If I did?" asked Nance.
“Are j-ou (John Falconer?”
"No. I’m his clerk, and T have a mess
age from him lo you," said Capstick,
lowering his voice.
It flashed suddenly through the mind of
the woman that fthe would here help Ruth
In another fashion. It was obviously
impossible her her to pawn so valuable
a thing as th P miniature, yet Ruth must
have money somehow. It might be pos
sible for her to see this mysterious
Father Falconer, and plead with hint on
^>ehalf of the girl. In any case, she
was more experienced than Ruth, there
should be n o hesitation about her when
she faced Ruth's friend.
“Well, what is your message to Ruth
Arkett?” she asked.
Just as she spoke. Westminster Tower
clock struck the hour of half-past 9.
Capstick started, and looked hurriedly at
his watch, then he glanced at the worn-
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an.
"Mr. John Falconer wished to see
you—tonight,” he said. “It is. of course,
in respons p to your note today; be will
see j'ou at his office at 10 o'clock. If
you will come wit'h me now, we shall
just be. in time,” lie added.
The proper course for Nance Ryder to
have adopted would hav P been to de
clare, there and then, that she was not
t'he Ruth Arkett of whom this man was
in seaTch: but that would hOve involved
much explanation and delay, and, per
haps, th e missing of the appointment,
i Even it* she hurried back and informed
Ruth of the appointment it was pos-
i sible that the girl might hesitate to keep
. it at such am hour and might, in con
sequence lose the chance of gaining the
• money she so sorely needed. It did not
' take a moment for Nance Ryder to
i make up her mind what to do: -sh P ac
cepted the identity that had been thrust
j upon her, and turned willingly eastward
with Mr. Saul Caipstlck. Sami called a
I cab, put her in, and climbed in himself;
■ then told t'he driver to driv p to t-he
' bank. On the way, Mr. Capstick put a
■ few leading questions.
; “I may take it that you are quite
• alone in London. Miss Arkett?” he
asked.
i “Quite alone, amd no friends,” she re-
I .-ponded. “In -fact," she went on. keep-
i ing up that character she had assumed,
! "Mr. John Falconer is t'he only friend
i 1 have. I don’t suppose there’s another
soul in London knows of my existence.”
"You were wise to keep yourself to
yourself," replied Capstick. And so they
drove along toward the citj’, th e wom
an unsuspicious, and the man beside her
plotting and scheming.
Meanwhile, the. man for whom Cap
stick plotted had before him always me ,
remembrance of this girl he had never who came to him out of the past—the
seen. He remembered, as clearly as
though the letter were in his hands.
Or so he was safe
He put on a rough, thick ulster, but
toned it to the chin, and drew on a cap
on his head; then, after listening fpr a
long time, a.nd hearing only the noise
of music and laughter below, came out
of his room, closed and locked the door,
and began to steal down out of the
house. All was q'uiet, and 'he congrat
ulated himself on the ifact that he could
pass out unnoticed. m
He turned a corner of the staircase,
still gliding down like a hunted tiling,
and came face to face wi*h li'is son, Mar
tin Falconer. For a moment .the young
-man stopped, gazing at him in perplexity,
then moved towards him hurriedlj’.
“Dad, you’re, not going out ”
"Yes, I am,” replied John Falconer,
without looking a-t his son. "Why are
yo u hanging about hen-, spying on me?
What do you want?”
“I am not spying.” exclaimed the
j'ounger man. indigna'ntly.
“Get back to our guests, and remem
ber that I am lying in my room, and
that I shall join j'ou presently. For
heaven's sake, Mart'n,” he exclaimed, pet
ulantly, “don’t look at me like that!
It’s all right, boy; it's something j’ou
don’t understand. Remember, jou haven’t
seen me.”
He ran down the stairs, and out by a
back staircase which led into a mews
at the side of the house. The last thing
he saw, as he looked back up the stair
case was his son standing there, tall
and straight, looking down at '...m.
He ttot a cab and drove into the city—
•a fittle in advance, had he known it. of
that other cab which carried Saul Cap
stick and the woman. Dismissing the
vehicle at so-m P little distance from liis
office, *ie walked quickly down through
the now deserted streets and alleys until
‘he came to Flower’s Court. There lie
looked about him for a moment before
putting his key in tlie lock. There was
no one in sight.
The house in which his office was sit
uated belonged to him. It was an old,
narrow building, squeezed in betwvn
higher and mor P modern ones, and he
occupied the whole of it. The upper
rooms had been fitted with some amount
of taste as a sitting-room and dressing-
room and bathroom; lower were the offices
for his clerks and ihis own privat e room.
He let himself in now, and went up
the darkened staircase, feeling his way
with a sure touch until he came into his
sitting-room; there he switched on the
electric light and looked about him.
Much as a man who faces a groat en
terprise—something that shall make or
mar him ip the space of an hour—John
Falconer looked round that familiar
room, and wondered in a vague fashion
what was to iiappen in it. Within a
short time lie was ro face there one
around her back j-ard, and, being un
willing to part with her babies and nig
gers, besides having her meat house
broken open, she has bared her arm,
caught lip the broomstock and poker, and
gone forth to meet tlie villains at the gar
den palings and knock them on the head.
We saw her when she went out.—She
looked vary unlike the quiet and genteel
dame whom wo have known tor some
years past. We may be mistaken, but
the indications were that she had so far
lost her temper that she intended to
fight. Her teeth were set. her eye flash
ed, her nostrils were dilated, her brow
was frowning. She looked glorious in
her anger. In fact, she looked dangerous.
We make no predictions, but we are real-
ly verj- much afraid that if the robbers
don't go away, she will hurt somebody.”
FUNERAL OF GEN. MORGAN.
A special correspondent of The Peters
burg Express gave the following account
of the funeral of General John II. Mor
gan:
"Washington Courtly, Va., September 7,
1864.—The honored remains of our great
hero. General John H. Morgan, were sor
rowfully interred at Abingdon yesterday.
■The Rev. Mr. Cameron, chaplain of his
brigade, preached an eloquent and im-
uressive funeral sermon on the mourn
ful occasion, an^j performed the burial
service at tlie grave. The funeral pro
cession nwived from till*' residence of
Judge John A. Campbell, where Mrs.
Morgan had been entertained for several
weeks, and where she had frequently en
joyed the glad presence of her husband.
The young and devoted wife is crushed
with anguish. A nation condoles with
her.
"General ‘Morgan, with some of his staff,
entered Greenville, Tenn., last Saturday
evening, the 3d instant, about 3 o'clock,
and secured lodging at the residence of a
Mrs. Williams. Three or four hundred
men of his command, under Colonel
Smith, wer e in another direction near the
town. Pickets were posted and scouts
sent out on several roads , but at least
one road, or by-road, was left unguarded.
“Sunday morning, about day dawn, Mrs.
Williams rushed to the general’s room,
and informed him that the house was stir,
rounded by federals. He, with his offi
cers, sprang out at the back door, while
tlie federals were breaking in at the
front. The federals, seeing them in the
back yard, shouted ‘Halt!’ but the com
mand was unheeded. A harmless volley
followed, and our xnen rushed into the
adjoining lot, which proved to be 'that
of the notorious federal partizan, Colonel
David Fry. Mrs. Frj', seeing the rebels,
as she called them, speedily informed the
federals, and the lot was immediately
surrounded. A hundred shots were tired
upon our braves, and at last tlie fatal
-ball pierced the breast of the bravest.
He had emptied his pistol upon the foe,
and would not be their prisonar again.
“Colonel Smith heard the firing, but
found the enemy too numerous to encoun
ter. and safely drew off his forces.
“The body of General Morgan was aft
erwards obtained by flag of truce. AI1
tlie gentlemen with him were captured,
except Major Gassett, Q. M.. who con
cealed himself in Mrs. Fry’s cellar, and
finally ftvade good his escape.”
ANECDOTES OF GENERAL EWELL.
The following story was told otf Gen
eral Ewell:
“During the lifetime of the hero Jack-
son, General Ewell was wont to remark
that Jackson could do the praying and
he -could do the swearing, and that the
two together could whip the devil. After
General E’well lost a leg the ltglit of the
Gospel shed its benign influence over
his spirit, and lie became a Christian.
Under the influence of this new feeling
he found tlie enemy heavily entrenched
at Winchester. He said that lie felt
averse to exposing his “poor boys” to
the -deadlj' slaughter certain to result
' from an attack on the works. He re
tired to his tent and there sipent a time
in prayer to the throne of grace. ’I*
seemed then.” said ne afterwards to
General Smith, ’as if a sudden fear got
hold of the enemj’, and he abandoned
his works without a light. The hand of
God is visible in this.’ ”
saw a plateful of watercress on the bar.
He made some inquiries about where it
came from, what it cost, etc., and went
back to the "West Virginia mountains
thinking.
"He knew a piece of swampy ground
where watercress grew abundantly and
lie figured that there might be money in
shipping it to Baltimore. H P made in
quiries and found he could buj' the
ground for $5 an acre. It was only a
few hundred feet from the Baltimore
and Ohio railroad, but the nearest ship
ping point was 4 miles away.
“He talked the venture over with the
cattleman for whom he worked and got
his promise to help him. On liis next
trip to Baltimore a deal was closed with
a commission merchant to handle ship
ments of watercress, and the cattleman's
Influence with the railroad people was
sufficient to exact a promise to put in a
siding long enough to hold four freight
cars.
“On returning home the cattleman ad
vanced $100 -and th P whole swamp was
bought. Within a - month the railway sid
ing was in and the watercress Croesus
was gathering and shipping a car load a
week.
"Croesus repaid the cattleman before
six months. The next jear he put up a
littlp shop where his crates were made.
He sopn cleared out all the other growth
in the swamp, planted more watercress,
and in another year had a solid bed of
twenty acres. He found that by build
ing a dam he could extend th p swamp
over nearlj' 100 acres further down tlie
vaKey, but he didn't build it till he had
got the ground.
“Watercress requires no cultivation
and no replanting—nothing but water
and harvesting. It produces throughout
the year, and costs nothing but the
wages of the men who gather it.
“Croesus soon extended his market to
Philadelphia, New York and other cities,
and his fortune was made. Now h e has
nothing to do but spend his income and
let the watercress grow.
“No, he is not the onlj- watercress pro
ducer, but I guess he’s the only one who
ships it in car load lots and to all ports
of the countrj-.’’
THE MISER.
Continued from First Page.
story. When I had finished, he looked
curiously at me, and after a long pause,
remarked: “There is a man, Mr. Tur
ner, in New York at this moment who
landed there some years ago without a
pennj’ in his pocket—”
“Yes sir!" I assented, wondering what
was coming next.
“He is now a millionaire!” he contin
ued. “Can j’ou form anj- idea as to
how his fortune was amassed?"
“No. sir!” I replied.
the contrary, he is better than he has
been for a long time!”
When we got to Wolcott’s rooms Mr.
Hannaford sat down and looked across
at Wolcott. “Will you tell him. or shall
T?” he inquired, gently.
“Oh, you tell him!” said Wolcott.
And then the manager, to my great
astonishment, told me how, four years
before, it had been discovered that Daisy
Maniwaring was suffering- from a very
dangerous complaint, and that the nniv
chance of saving her life was for her
to undergo a course of treatment at a.
certain foreign health resort wher P a
specialty was made nf this particular
disease. It had at first seemed quito
impossible on the score of expense, but
Wolcott had undertaken to glv p up prac
tically the whole of his salary in order
that she might have a chance to benefit
by this treatment.
The first telegram that had attracted
my attention was the one saying that
they had decided to perform the nec
essary opera-tion that day; and the sec
ond was to inform him that it had been
entirely successful.
"And j-ou knew this all along, sir?"
I asked the manager.
“Certainly," he replied. “Harrj' has
never kept any secrets from me. And I
have only kept one secret .from him.
and that I am going to reveal to him
now.”
And kind old Hannaford positively
beamed as he produced from his pocket
a letter from the directors of the bank
offering to Mr. Wolcott the managership
of one of the most important brandies
in the west of England.
T walked across the room and took him
by the hand.
“Wolcott, old man. T congratulate you!
And. by the nay, you were perfectlj-
right. T am a d—d fool!”
“Don’t be a silly ass!” said Wolcott,
blinking. “Will you be my best man?”
***•*«
I only wish you could have seen the
set of table silver that the men in the
bank presented to Wolcott on the occa
sion when Daisy JIainwaring. complete
ly restored to health and looking more
radiantly beautiful than ever, became the
bride of “The Miser."
what that man who had died ha’d writ
ten in preparing Falconer for her com
ing. Even while his guests were buz
zing about hinj. .and he was talking to
them, lie -seemed to see the letter spread
out befor P liis eyes, and to read every
word of it:
“John Faieoner: Years ago, when you
and 1 worked together, you anow what
CRESSES IN CARLOAD LOTS.
“That fellow over there is the Water
cress Croesus,” said the clerk in an up
town hotel, nodding in the direction of
tli e theater ticket stand, where a big,
disgraceful, scheming fraudulent past ! fine-looking man of forty, well dressed,
lie had thought to leave behind. This j . A . as buying tickets for a party of
woman stretched up hands to him from | friends.
out of the mire to dr-a# him down. And | “Fifteen years ago,” continued the
he had had such a fight for it!
Down below in the silent house he
heard a door open, heard voices for a
moment, then the door closed again. He
looked round th e room at all the famil
iar objects; with that growing purpose
in big mind, anything hidden bad such a
clerk, “he was a poor devil down In the
mountains of West Virginia, with noth
ing but w-hat he could earn as a laborer
and no prospects. One daj- he went to
Baltimore as a caretaker with a load of
cattle.
“There he dropped into a barroom and
“I thought not, Mr. Turner,
entirely bj' paying undivided attention to
his own business! Good-morning!"
And once more I found pij’sclf outside
the floor, snubbed for nij' pains. Never
again will I make the smallest effort to do
a good 'turn to one of my fellow crea
tures.
It was about three days after my un
fortunate visit to the manager's room
that another telegram arrived for Wol
cott, and I could not help watching
him carefully as he tore it open. Per
haps, it was fortunate that I did so,
for as he read it he first of ail flushed
a deep red and then suddenly went per
fectly white, and if I -had not rushed up
and caught hold of him he would cer
tainly have fallen to the ground, as lie
had fainted dead away. We carried
him into the manager's office, where Mr.
Hannaford at once procured some brandy
for him, and shortly afterward the man
ager himself took him home in a cab.
As I went back to my plaoe, the tel
egram still lay open on the head cash
ier's desk, and as I passed I could hard
ly help reading its contents. It consist
ed of onlj- two words: “Quite success
ful!” and was apparentlj' dispatched from
some outlandish place on the continent
of which I had never heard. With an
unerring instinct I saw at once what
had happened. Wolcott had gone in for
wne of these foreign lotteries, and had
actually had the good luck to secure the
prize, and the sudden shock had been
too much for him!
That evening, as I was sitting in my
room smoking an after-dinner cigaT. there
was a knock at the door, and, to my
intense surprise, Mr. Hannaford walked
into the room.
“Good eveing. Turner,” he said, kindly.
“I want you to come around and see
Wolcott, if you don’t mind!”
“He’s not worse, I hope, sir?” I asked
with genuine anxietj',. for, in spite of his
treatment of me, I couldn’t. help having
a sneaking regard for old Wolcott.
"Not at all!”- said the manager. “On
HOMESPUN ENGLISH IN USE.
(From The New York Sun.)
Somebodj' must look after the general
health of the English language. The
Hon. Andrew Carnegie has provided
trained nurses for its orthography.
Here is the Hon. Isidor Rayner, of
Maryland, saj'ing in the senate:
“That looks verj- much like the court
had never expressed an opinion on the
subject that bound them in any way.”
Mr. Lodge may be said to represent
the purist and Puritan—essentially the
grammarian’s—spirit. Even if he had
quarreled with Mr. Rayner’s numbers we
• should not; and as for the idiom with
j “like” it is racy of the south and the
It was j s °uthwest. Somewhat as “Father” Tay-
1 lor. of Boston, said of his son in la-w, w«
say of “like” in this use that while not
a saint, it is one of tne sweetest little
sinners in the world.
The Hon. Beniamin Ryan Tillman
often has a hon»elj\ Bunyanes9, De-
foeian, downright speech that is most
attractive. For Instance:
"I am trying to clean my own skirts
without throwing rocks at any one
else.”
He doesn't mean the everlasting rocks,
but pebbles, such a “rock” as David
heaved at Golliath. To throw “rocks ’’
to “rock” the party of the second part
was one of the delights of boyhood when
Plancus was -president. “Rocks,” in the
noun sense at least, covers a wide area
'.Maine prohibition and the Palmetto dis
pensary have both been “rocked.” Mr.
Tillman and the “j-ankees” are at one* on
‘rocks.” Possibly, howev.er, the Hon.
Shelbj' Moore Cullom and other Occiden
tals niay have heaved “dornicks” in boy
hood's -happy dajs.
Of “rocks” (the noun) in this sense one
dictionary saj's supercillouslv: “Vulgar
U. S.“ Another word deposit' vault calls
it “colloquial, local, U. S.“ Not too se-
verelj- local; of larger range, perhaps,
than the lexicographer guessed. Collo
quial? How damning! What is language
tor) And vulgar" Is only “common ”
Me congratulate Mr. Tillman on being
“colloquial." “vulgar,” “local," and
"United States.”
New the yon. Champ Clark, the Pik*
county Pitt, hits the ceiling of the house
with Ins sublime head and says-
“VVe spent nearly the whole day low
ering about corporations.”
“.lowering;” we thank Missouri for the
U a P ea ^ s „.fw. itself. It looks like a
inst cousin of jawingr.” a descendant of
J“ w ’’ or its brother “jow.” One distion-
ai J admits .lowering” as a noun only
„iP laI - IT - s -t a dispute, contention ”
Dispute’ and “contention” are pale
and pasty fellows by the side of ‘lower
ing. ’ “Speaker Cannon >has a jowerimr
-with the senate. “Gen.erkl oiosvenoP
lowered with his constituents.” “Mr
Till man is a great jowerer.” The lan
guage Is enriched. The pure air of the
Ozarks makes the pages of the diction
ary flutter. Now that homespun’s the
only wear, whj- doesn’t Mr Clark make
a -whole speechin Missouri?
I CURED MY_RUPTURE
I WE Shew You How T» Curs T
FREE.
I was helpless and bed-ridden for yean from a
No truss could hold. Doctors said I would die if
I fooled them all and cured myself br a rimni* a- °* °*’ eimted on -
-end the cure free by maii if yo?^ritXr £
rince cured thousands. It will cure you. Write fa^Tf
Ceilings, Box N, Watertown, N. v GagCW.A.