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iYOL. XVIII. ATLANTA. GA.. TUESDAY MORNING FEBRUARY 15, 1887 PRICE FIVE CENTS HANDSOME PRESENTS FOR ALL Ws cull attention to oorjlan for distributing • bos {till of presents to ottrfriends,deecribed on $ho last column of page six of this week's issue. !Wo want every subscriber to share in these The plan is simple. Ton tend us a new sub- • jtcriber. Your nsme is at once written on stag and put in our present box. On March the box Is shaken and the tagsmixed up, and committee draws out a tag. Thojiamo on that - tog guts the- $100 present. The second tag the $50—and so on till all the presents are taken. Of course every person who sends a subscriber .Will not get a present, but every one will BAVi AH EQUAL chance. The lady who sends one subscriber may get tho $100. Somebody BUBILY WILL. Why not you? Bemember your name goes in ones for every subscriber you send, and once for your own subscription. If you tend five subscribers at one dollar each yon get one of our superb pictures free. For live subscribers at $1.00 each, by adding $1.25, Watch and chain.. For ten subscribers at $1.00 each, and at one time, a watch and chain free. In each case your name goes in our present tax for every name you send. Nowwo urge every subscriber to be repre sented in our present box. Thcro it not one of the 93,000 subscribers this week who cannot yet one subscriber—that one subscriber may get yon $1001 The box Is doted March 31st, promptly. Mo names will go into the box ex cept those sent in during the month of Febru- eg. jOuR Story Corner THE BOSS OF BARANGAR00. By A. Werner. “it can't bo—no, it couldn't bo—for him to die!' 1 Be eras til alone in the hut. Ho sat on a pack ing case staring into the fire, his elbows ou his Itnccs and his head on his hands, talking to himself, as solitary men will. Thcro was a gloomy, helpless perplexity in his look, as ho thrust the burning brands together with the toe ef his boot, and muttered over and over again: *‘Bost a-dyin’! no, no!’’ A stray stock rider had passed by that after- moon. on his way to a distant station, and brought the news from Barringsroo. It was Murdoch, of Barangaroo—Lennox Murdoch, who lay dying, slowly dying in tor ture, helplessly crushed and mangled by a fall ing tree, as he was overseeing somo timber in thebntb. Thomsnwho60gnyfearlcssncsswas the wonder'of the colony; who had rid,’. 1:uneed tiiue after time through the verj of death; the reckless, wayward, ftntaatic soul, to whom mortal danger was is a familiar friend, whom every one loved and laughed at; so full of life, and Joy In life. Why, the very thought of Ms dying wot impossible and incongruous; at least It seemed m if tho only fitting close to such a career would bo a swift, suddeu stroke; to be suatebed away In a moment, with tbe laughing light still in his eyes, aud the last snatch of a song still lingering on hia lip. It seemed unnatural, horrible, for Lennox Mar- Booh, of all men, to be lying on bis bsck in tbe darkened room, with closed eyes, and drawn, white lips. So thought his overseer, who had -carried him up stairs in his arms, and laid him tenderly down on the bed he would never leave again; feeling all the time, grave, quiet Scots man as he was, as If his own heart would break. not perhaps put hung gloomily nt through with It into words—the men who their work, silently; or speaking in hushed voices to each other. There might have been better men; there certainly worn man; more Judicious and with hotter regu minds; whereas, the censorious might have said that Lennox Murdoch’s mind was net reg- olaird at all; but there was not a shepherd, or but keeper, or hand of any aort on the station that would not have given anything to “have Murdoch round again in a good tesrin’tem- nor,’’ as one of them said. Mo, they would never bear hia wrathftil harangues or his reckless “'chaff” again. Aud this man who now sat over the fire, this blaek-beardod, half-savage, heathen man, had heard the news with stolid apathy, und scarcely said a word. Perhaps the idea took a long time to roach that slow moving brain of his. After the stranger had gono he Slung tho hilly and set tho tea to boil, and got all things ready at usual for his mates when they should return; and then he settled down to bis brood’ broken woi He was not a man of many ideas: that waa apparent at the first glance. Probably he had not atarted in life with an exceasivo amount, and bis experience as an ordinary seaman on board various small merchant vessels, and later as a convict in Sydney, had not tendod to in crease or elevato hit stock. But, once ho had acquired a notion of any sort, be clung to it, or it to him, with the tenacity of the limpet on tho rock. I do not think he remembered himself what offense he had been transported for. Perhaps many years of solitary bosh life had affected bis memory, and its dull uniformity detdened the past Into one binned blaze. Like that oj zho savage, hia mind did not look after, nor very ikrbefore; yet utterly inactive it waa not. Me did think and reason. In bis alow, dogged fashion. He was not canning, nor nstarsily cruel, though his ship and prison life had gen- crated in lum a dull. brooding ferocity that sometimes cams to light In outbreaks of fury. And tbs highest idea hi t mind was capable of conceiving sras embodied in the sroids, Mur doch of Barangaroo. This is how it came. He had gradually become possessed of a vague belief that it sras the destiny and nor mal condition of man to be sworn at, cuffed, kicked, and generally considered s nuisance, Micas it were bis happy lot to be able to swear at others in hli turn, and acquiesced therein In bis dull, passive sray. And so. when his time was oat, and he set forth on his aimless wan derings, be drifted out to Barangaroo station, With convict written on every line of his slouching figure and solien face. And it came lo pass, one hot December morning, that he Stopped listlessly by the door of Murdoch's shearing shed, and saw ■ man ride by at a tear ing gallop, on a magnificent black bone; a man in a scarlet shirt, with s curly head and s twUklin^e^who suddenly reined up, stopped “Hello, old cock! have yon any pirticnlsr engagement?’ And wMle Bill Adamson was slowly trying to evolve an answer, he wassur- jui ed by another question: “Can you shear a sheep withont cutting him i aU to planar* I Adamson fixed his eyes ou the frank, kin llr face that looked down on him, and gradually finding his voice, said: • Itdon’t know, but i'll try." ' Come on, then!" said Murdoch, as he sprang down and hitched his horse to a post But be fore he bad gone three stops he turnod and leaned against the wail, with his hand against bis fide, shaking with langbter. “You ic a rum customer, you are! You've never asked mo what you're to get!" Tho man dropped his head and kicked nerv onely at a stone on the ground. Then he mat tend, withont looking at Murdoch: “Yon never atked me where I came from." And Murdoch understood. There was a cu rfotis twist of perversity in his nature, or some of liis friends so called it Civilized and re spectable citizens he would treat with the sub- Hincst audacity of disdain; it was a common saying about him that he fcarod nothing and respected nobody. But for outcasts ana dis reputable characters of any sort he had a quick, instinctive sympathy. It did not take much K netratiou to guess the history of the man fore him, and following the impulse of the moment ho did the very thing to|bind that man to him for life. “All right, then. Is it a bargain? Shake hands on it!" So they shook hands, and Bill Adamson was installed among the shearers, and afterward when that nomad tribe scattered away east ant west, to pastures now, he remained on as one of tho Barangaroo shepherds; a queer, silent, soli tary man, who worked for three, seldom spoke, and neversmiled, except when Murdoch spoko to him. Bo lilted the lonely lifo at the hut on 8tringy Bark hill, where few men were willing to stay; among tho other hands on the station he was moody, sullon, and “diffi cult;" but the two men wno shared tho hut with him found him “well enough to get on with, if you let him alone." The months went on, one day exactly Uke another, till they added u; he had 1 be would pass bv casuslly when out shooting, and sit over a pipe beforo Adamson's fire, talk ing to him in that frank, trustful, kindly way J iot all Bill’s history from him, bit by bit, and ■cepenedlnto a dumb, dog like worship the un«n’i first vague admiration. I do not Know whether Bill Adamson had ever loved anyone or anything in his life before; I do know that be loved Lennox Murdoch. And now Gibson had brought the news that Lennox Murdoch lay dying at Barangaroo. I cannot try to follow and analyze the wild, formless thought! that worked in that dark brain of his. A superstitious sailor to begin with, brooding for weeks together over his own thoughts in the bush, it Is in truth scarcely to bo wondered at if his. ideas of the Unseen I were not much higher.: than those of tho bronze-colored savages who would comoand cat themselves stupid ou Murdoch's mutton and damper round their camp fire3 near his hut. Ho believed in the existence of a higher power, whoso name ho some' j for. u> “ , -a-, whc.'i mow raverolffly Inclined, he vaguely referred—but this rarely happened —us ‘They;" and, In a sort of way, in the effi cacy of prayer, though his views on the subject were peculiar. Only I know that there came to him then, in some dim and inarticulate ahape,(he old. old, ever-recurring idea of •> Bfe for a life," and the demon god whose cruel will can only be fatisfiod with blood. They came in as usual, and settled down to their supper and their costomary monosylla bic talk. Just at last, beforo they turned in for the night, one of them happened to ask him whether he he had seen any one that day. He answered in his slow drawl, os he kuockcd the ashes out of his pipe against his knee: “Gibson from Murray's was here this after noon. Camo past Barangaroo. Says tho boss is real bad. Got hurt with a tree falling on him." There was a dead silence. Then the two in* terchanged comments and questions in a low voice, and finally, after having tried in vain to get more lucid information from him, the turned away and wrapped themselves in the! blankets, leaving him still smoking by the fire. Thereupon lie looked up and said: “Oneo you stay here tomorrow; I wantcr to go down and see how he is;" to which they answered “All right," and were asleep in a few minutes. He sat still, watching the dying embers for met*—* 41 1 * * ** bispoi be always carried, stuck his knife in his belt, felt for and found the tin pannikin which served him for a drinking cup, and opening tho door softly went out. Then m no moos, bat it wu bright star- light, and ho bad lived zo many yoars in tho Illikeasleutb- and twitting his waylhreugh it llkts low; then he crowed an open grassy tract, dotted with gum trees here and there; then, aftar a long climb op a steep quarts strewn Mlbldu, and an abrupt descent into a gully beyond, he came to a spot that perhaps oo white man’s foot bad ever trodden before. It was a level grasey space, with thickly wooded siopea rising on three sides of it like an amph -theatre. Tall gum trees grew about it here and there, but not to closely as to shut out the starry sky, Iu tbe middle waa a grass-grown mound, where trsdi- tion said that a native chief was hurried; thcro waa a cairn of atones piled on tho top, aud here and there wMte objects, that might have been bones, glinted in tbe foint light. It was an uncanny place, avoided by tbe blacks them selves for the most part, though they came there to hold nightly corroboree now and then. All was perfectly still, except for the roshlng of the creek down below, and the low, solemn stirring of the wind in the tree-tops. Ho heaped a pile of dry sticks on tha mound, going to work slowly, methodically, in his every day fashion; set fire to it with his flint and steel, and stood watching it patiently till it leaped into a blaze; then he tamed away,and clearing away the (rase and leaves, drew with his kalfe circle round the grave. He stripped off his shirt, and laid it aside: then he knelt down in the circle before the fire, with his knife and pannikin betide him, and clasped Ms hands before hit face, and fe had never done such a tMng in hii life before; at any rate not since be was a child at bis mother's knee. Perhaps tha words he said may shock you if written down, eogroteequely blasphemous, so pathetically horrible weretbey. Yet, maybe, there are people whose inarticulate (retd, if put into plain English, would not amount to «*nr»h bettor. "Lord A’mighty," he said, "I don't know much about this yer basinets—I’m only a lag, an' maybe 'tain't the thing for me to speak. But if yon want to kill any one, do kill me. Maybe it'a all the same to you—au-I, yoa see, nobody would mist mo. • * • I don’t know bow to cay it all right, hat I reckon you'll know what I mean. Strike me deal now, or any time you please, an' let him get better. Amen. "Four comers to m; bed, Four angel* round my head, It was the only thing of tha sort he remem bered out of hia fbr-off childhood; perhaps the only prayer he had ever learned. It may bs that Be thought it of service as a kind of devo tional incantation. _ He took Ms hands from his foe ami held value, ezpectant eye* np l log for tho stroke to foil. Ho really had some expectation that it would. There was a sodden hoarse scream and a far- off flapping of winga in the stillness above his head. It waa an eagle-hawk, disturbed from Ms nest in the highest of the stringy-barks. “Maybe he's gone to fetch the thunderbolt, he thought, as a fragment of wild, dim nature- myth darted through his mind. “Woldja, woldja!” And he murmured some words in the native language, most likely a charm. But all was still; the fire leaped and flickered, and the eaglo-hawk did not come back. He took up hisknife front the ground anddroiv the sharp point quickly down Ms breast; then made another out across it and held up tiro cup mean it, but I do! he first, and tho rest to come content, into the fire, in the flame he went on speaking) "I’m goln’ down in the morning to see him once more. If you do your part and lot him get better I’ll como here tomorrow night and end It. I swear solemnly I will. Yoa hear me? Will that do?” He knelt with uplifted, blood-stained hands, looking up to tho peaceful sky. As he looked a failing star drew a lino of light scree! th< space of sky between the tops of the stringy- lurks and vanished, "It's donot it's dono!” he cried, and flung himself forsrard on bis faco. He lay there for some tlmo without moving; while the fire flick ered down and dlod, leaping up now and then, and casting weird, vague i ... ovsr tho grave mound aud Tho alow hours of the afternoon dragged out their cruel length; Macdonald, the overseer, sat by Murdoch's side. Murdoch lay still, with closed eyes-not aeloop—Macdonald knew that by the occasional twitching of the whito lips in a spasm of pain, and the tightening grasp of the hand he held in his. He had dona all he eonld to relieve the long last agony: it was not much; there waa no snrglual aid witMn reach, and he knew enough to feel sure that oven had there been,no skill or care eonld save Mm. They would never quarrel again, these two; they hsd done so regularly about once a week, and nu one would have inspected from Mac donald’s dry, reserved ways and esnstic sovori ly of speech that he loved this “feckless,’’ reckless Murdoch like his own brother. He dock oyer. “I'm that tired, Mae! I shall bo glad when its over.” It was the first word of complaint ho had uttered. Macdonald had not broken down be fore, hut he felt near it now. Ho felt the sob rising in Ms throat ss ho murmured something incoherent about the impowibility of getting a doctor. “Don't worry about that, Mac. Why, bless you, he'd only bother mo and not lio able to do pulled shoot?"" Thank'you, eld HI Macdonald had risen and changed his pillows, was bathing his forehead, looking with a vague trouble into tho sunken dark eyea. “All right, Mac; I know that I’m done for— I’ve no hope a of being patched up again. Only don't yon fret. What b it?” One of the stockmen had como to the hslf- ptn doer and was beckoning to Macdonald, •ho went out softly, dosing it behind him. “Well?” “It's Black Bill, that there queer cove from the hush. Beckon he’s gone crazy-likc. He’s been sitting them in the doorway the last three hours and won’t go awsy. Come down this morning, wanted to know how the hoes wu; says we’re to tell him u loan as he's any better.” Macdonald went dawn and found him seated there, sullen, slonchy, defiant, in outward seeming, knees crossed, and arms folded; no life about him savo In tho dull gleam of his black eyes under their lowering brows. He rose slowly and touched his hat. 'Ain't he no better yet?" > any A troubled look came into the man's wild eyes. "I thought it would bo afore sundown,’’ ho muttered. “Don’t you believe it, sir; he ain't a-goin’ to die; so, no. not he!" He sat down again, settling back Into hia old look of dogged patience. Macdonald, finding it tireless to say anytMng t j Mm, went quietly back, and took up Ms post again botlda Mur doch. "What waa it, Mac? Any one wanting you?” “It was Bill Adamson, from tho huts beyond l he creek. Ho wu wanting to know how you were.” "Black BUI? Poor old chap! You didn’t und him away, did you? I’d liko to ate him "Can you liear it, Murdoch?” “Why not? Do 1st Mm eoms up!” Macdonald went dosro again, and found him still motionless in tbe same position. He touched Mm on the shoulder. "Adamson, will you come up? He wants to see yon.” The man's whole face lighted up. “The best? May I?” He roso at once to follow; then ho suddenly stopped and carefully drow off his heavy boots. "Did he say he wanted to see me?” “Yes.” Me spoke not another word, but went into the room with Macdonald, and stood awk wardly at the foot of tho hod, scarcely daring to lift bis eyes to the changed white face with the hollow temples and drawn lips. “Well, old follow! I'm awfully glad to see you. Just leave us a little, wlU you, Mac?” Aud Macdonald left them togather. He looked up, twisted his fingers helplessly, scrspedjthe floor with his foot, and Jerked out the words, with a kind of defiance: “Yen won't die, hoes! I know you,'won't. I've made it all right!" “What do you mean? Come hero!” And ho went nearer, and Lennox Murdoch lifted hia unwounded left arm and laid it around bis neck. by, don't you know, hoes? They said they’d take ma instead of you—and they sroa't go back on their word.” “I don't understand. Tril me all about It.” He raised himself, it most have coat him aifnl pain, with Ms old winning, mischievous smile, as if ho were mightily amused at himself aud the whole situation, and laid hia head down on Bill's ihoulder. Tho gnat bush nun wonnd bia rough arms tenderly round the slight figure andasked instead of answering: “Does it hurt you now r” “No; not much account. Tell me what you mean, dear old lad?’ . . • . So he told him, slowly, in broken, awkward words, having to be helped out hy questions now and then, of tbs black follows’ burial piece, and the midnight incarnation, and how “they" had promised ly tha sign of the felling star. And befonha had ended, the dying naan waa sobbing aa if hia heart would break. “Don't, jar; Ms. don’t! YouTl hart yourself, "-BUM dear, dear old Bill! how could you think of sods a thing ? Oh, God t oh, Oodt” * My life for yours. Mine ain't worth much, and whit would we evor do without yon I” “Oh, hut yin mustn't; you mustn't think of Ood in that way! Yon, oh! what shall I say to yon? You'll break my heart!’’ "Don't take on. don't. I didn’t think it woo’d have'vexed yo so. I wouldn't have lold!” t'Llsten to me, now, and remember what I say. Will you?” Bill nodded, but did not"«peak. “Yon mustn't think it's bad for mo to die. See, if I went array to Sidney, you wouldn't be wanting to leave tho sheep and run after me^would you ? You'd just wait till I came Something like a sob shook tho man's ragged chest, and the slow, hard tears gathered in his “But you’ll never come back I” “No; hut j yon 1-elleve I care for you; don’t you f” you can come to me. Look hero, “Ay. that I do, hoes!” “God made yon, and more than ever I can. Csn’t you love* you? If I didn't think He did mo I rhonldntknowwhattodonow. You musn’t think ha does not love me becauso I’m dying like this. I’m going to Him, and so will you, if yon wait patiently and try to do right, Re member, yon won't see me again if yon do what yoo mid.” “But I promised.’’ “Ho don’t want you to keep that promise. You didn't know rightly what He sras when yon made it. I—I wish I could help you—tell yon clearly what I mean. Aik Him to help you-Oust as you’d talk to mo • • • Promise me you'll not kill yourself.” “I won't, then, if yon don’t want.” • “Shake hands on It, then. Ail right; yon won’t hart mo”—for he saw Bill looking heal- ■ - “ the slender, bai nembor now." ”1 will.” “I’ll be looking out for you, old man. BLOOD AND IRON. i. John Blair eamo to a sudden halt In the mid- dlo of the road. “Shall I go on to Bethel church?" he atk.-d “or loaf about in the sunshine?” Although there was uo oue in tight he spoke aloud. "What do I care for old Parson Dryman?” ho continued. “He has frightened all these timid fools so that they have turned hypocrites to escape the wmth to come. Woll, I'll take my chances." 8tnrdy, broad-shouldered, with a bullet head, a square face, massive jaws, a ronlute mouth, and cold gray eyea, John Blair looked the very incarnation of strength and courage. He stood still a moment and glanced np nnd down tho narrow country road as itmeandered through tho brown and barren fields and rocky woodlands until It lost itself tn tbe rod hills. The dilapidated mil fence by tho wayside attracted hie attention. "Just liko neighbor Morris,’’ ho said with a grim smile. "Dick Is a fool, of course, and with such land aa that ho couldn't do much, bnt ho could do better. Look nt my place. It was almost aa bad, hot I have tamed It into a it.” I shall always think of yonr coming. So don't you go hack on mo. My poor, dear old chap!" Macdonald came and laid his hand on Adam son's ahonlder and asked Mm to go away; bnt Murdoch looked tip and said, “Let him ay, please!” 80 Bill staid. He never closed an eye during the next two days and nights that followed. It was in hia arms that -Lennox Murdoch died, worn out with the torture of fever and sleeplessness, hut patient and gentle to tbe last while he hsd his lenses ubonthim. Once, during tho last night, ho called Macdonald to Mmand told him Bill’s secret end prayed him, if he loved Mm, to ho kind gutawpoor, wild, blondoting soul. And icdonzld promised, with dry oyes and dry throat. - Macdonald kept Ms promise. Ho staid on it tbe ran trader the new squatter, and- so did '111, who went abont hia daily work much ns more “qnecc” and silent than licfore. ' lo look abont him in a bewildered World Wi re out or joint, thiingli how, Macdonald was almost tho ever spoko to if ha could halo it, ‘ wan Mono lie would talk 1 sonic fm*?'infill inter- d listen attentively to tho ‘ ‘‘y words, nnd perhaps, some lator time, that ho had taken In more of their spirit than ouo might havo thought. Tho winter passed away, and the spring, and another summer—ami then ho soimed Itadually to foil. He grew listless and dreamy, ■Is strength forsook Mm, his moods were stran ger than ever, though tho old fiorce outbursts of temper were never heard now, and there i a new gontloneu in all hia wordsand ways, 1 in this stato—little likely to offer roilst- e to any disease—a creeping chill strack him, and be took to his bed with malaria fever, * —* upsgalr ode up It, and snlvod only Just iu time to soo hint be fore bo died. He was unconscious of all around, but kept murmuring to himself, “I’m coming —yer. I’m coming!" and oneo or twice they caught the name “Murdoch!" THE WHITE RIVER ACCIDENT. An Examination Shows Dcfeotlve Material On tha Road, White Ilivrn Junction, Vi, February 7.— Official investigation into the circumstances connected with the railroad disaster of Hator. day began at Junction bouse this afternoon. large number of people, prominent through out New England, were In attendance. The investigation waa held under the Immediate direction of tbe board of rail road commissioners of Vermont, ca-Governor Fingrce, chairman; Professor Fletcher, chief of the engineering department of Dartmouth college, who has made a close examination of the track leading to tho bridge, says there were three rails tom up at the point where the car "Pilgrim” probably left tho track. The rails all show signs of de fect in material in construction. Professor Fletcher thinks that an axle on the ear “Pil grim’’ broke, causing Its derailment. That was the only ear which left the track until the bridge waa reached. White Bivk* Junction, Vt, February «.— .. meat carelul revision, tho accuracy of which is Indisputable, shows the following estimate of the number of prisons on the wrecked train and how accounted for up to IO a, m. today, which makes the number of killed tMrty-two. There were brought to Windsor, on tho Con necticut Jflver read, 30 people; to White Blver Junction, on tbe Boston ana Lowell road, 37; taken on at White River Junction, 6; train men, 12; total on train, 85. Accounted for as follows; Injured, per surgeon's official list, 30; dead bodies recovered to Sunday, surgeon's ccunt, 27; found Sunday, 5; known to hnvo gone north on trains, 12; known to have re turned home, 6; total, 85. The previous computations St tho total number of passengers on tho wrecked train Is tonight increased by six, making ninety-one known to havo been there. This isierease Is the result of evidence introduced before the commiariouers, showing that there weretMrty- six persons on tbe Connecticut river trsln,wbo who were transferred to tbe Central Vermont, instead ef thirty as at first stated lay the conductor. His present statement is verified by ticket office reports. This lesvss six passengers still unaccounted for, and for whom there is room in the flexibility of the sur geons’ estimates of the charred bodies made on Sonday. The total number of ideotifled dead np to this morning Is seveet-ei, the list having been Increased by one today through the Identification of the remains of Harry Brooks, of Boston, whose body is tonight being taken to Cornwall, Canada, by rciativee. A Million Dollar Drink, From the i'nlladclphfa Press. It isn't every yonng man who can indulge _ a 11,000,000 drunk, but tbe sou of be os tor Fair, of Nevada, did It the other evening in Washington, when he tried lo shoot ex-Representatlve Psge, of California, because the latter refused to taka a drink with him. Young Fair had been promised aoooin,000,(Wirh« uoold go for a year without drinking, and had scored np seven months of the allotted time, hot the temptation to go on a tear that would cost a ronsd million wu too glittering lor hia little mind, and be feU. Young Mr. Fair may never he a senator or a hero, bnt genemU-yu will rise up and point lohlmaa a man who “Mated timsflftoouv of the Coatll.tR drunks Vfl record. cpatches of half-eleand land visible in tho stunted for ests on tho rocky Mllildes did not promise Imurb. "As I am not going to old Bethel,” said Blair, “l’H do a little exploring,” He cantioosly climbed the fence, and started with a swinging stride in tho dlroctiou of tho hills. Two hours later John Blair straggled up out of a ravine, with a brown lump in his hand. His face wu as whito as a shoot, and his oycri blazed with excitement. Uo swung his net around Ms head. “Gold! Gold! Gold!" he shouted. Then with a scared look he crouched down in tho grass, still holding the brewn lump in hie hand, “Whata fool I ami” he whispered. “Bnt nobody beard me. It is Sunday, and my good neighbor Morris is at churob.” He pulled out hia knife, and with the stout Undo chipped off a few pieces from his myste rious lump. These he examinod closoly. “I was right,” bo almost gasped, with a sigh of reliof. ‘This is iron and nothing olso. My mining days in Pennsylvania (nnght mo some thing. 1 know good ora when I see it.” Taking tliespccimcn in both hands ho threw It with all Ills force against a rock and broke it. He scrutinized tho fragment-. “It is irou,” he repeated, “aud that means gold. Yes, gold! gold!" ho exclaimed, again giving way to his excitement. Blair sprang to his foot aud looked nhout him. There was no one to ho seen. Gather- ing up tho pieces of bis specimen ho walked rapidly down to a lit*to crock a*, the foot of the Mil ami threw tiicffl into the water, II. upon a moes covered reek In a shady covert, and gave himself np to his thoughts. “Jennie wonld like tills,’’ ho said, “I must bring her out here. Tho very place fora sum mer resort.” Then ho thought of his daughter's birthday, and his hard fore softened. What was that? It sounded likes stealthy lair glanced around him. , > had their old eagle-llko range, and thoy lace put Blair on his guard. Bn - fearless, hat as the Iren King, wu hb duty to taka care of Mm- Hb keen gray ryes had their old e ' " * took in everything. “Jtwasnothlnf,”he said, u ho reclined on his elbow, and proceeded to |bui!d more alr- castiea for Jennie and hlmaelf. Another rustle among the dead leaves. Waa . somebody, or wu It an anf - — ■ linesa of the place put Blair t wu absolutely fear' ha felt that it wu 1 seif. Hb apprehensions, however, it he had any, vanished when he uw a grey-haired, fcehlo leaking man. In faltered garments, emerge from the depths of the forest and stand before him. » The new comer paused and looked Blair ateadUy in tbelkoo. “Move on!” commanded tho latter. The tramp did not stir. Hb tMn. yellow foes bore the lines of cam and suffering, and hb K rb showed that he had traveled far, and had en i x posed to all sorts of weather. “Thb b no place for tramps,” said Blair coldly; “you must move on.” “John Blair!” The millionaire started. “What do you mean by addressing me in that way?’ ho shouted. “Leave at once.” “John Blair, have yon forgotton me?’ Tho other looked steadily at tho mans tm»- M There waa very little haggtlag ovor terms. Morris wu glad to get anything, ami when he cairicd home a thousand dollars in twenty dollar gold pieces, Mrs. Morris aud tho throe tow-headed diildren were so much agitated that their first impulse wu to tit up all night. They finally compromised by going to hod and remaining wide awake until daylight. Tbe Morrises packed up their household goods and lest no time in transferring them selves to tho west. They were glad to leave the old red hills where they had known noth ing but poverty and toil. Honest Dick Morris felt somo compunctions of conscience, although he could not see where he wu to blame, and before hb departure he hunted up John Bblr. “Now, John,"said be, apologetically, "I hope yon are utbficd with tho trade?’ “Ob, it will do,” answered Blair, puffing away at hb cob pipe. “You know I never bragged about tho place, hut then you know it u well u I do or bet ter.” “Just so,” assented Bltir shortly, “I know it ss well u yon do or better.” 'Then I am satisfied,” aid Morris. “Good bye, old fellowxnd may the good Lord prosper yon and yours," The other took hb hand, and, looking down at the ground, aid: "Good-bye, Morris. Take my advice, and stick to tho west. There bechance thore for yon. There Is none here, u you know. As for myself, I am a good worker, and I can make a living where yoo would fail.” They parted good friends, and tbe Morrises started on their western tHp. “I can't help feeling sorry for Blair,” a wife. ' dd Pick to bis wl... Hint 1 never knew what a good follow he wu until we got to trading. When we get settled end begin to prosper, I shall try to persuade him to come out and loin ug.” And Dick felt tho weighty money belt around hb waist, and beamed all over with good nature and gratitude, IIM Tho growth of Ironboro wu almost magics). In the region around it nothing like It had ever been known. , When John Bbir found that big brown lump he found a fortune. Bbir wu no ordinary fanner. He hod a head for affsin. He organized a company and controlled it. Capital was obtained, and ha controlled that too. Ho wueo strong-willed and clear-headed that few men were his match. They recognized bis gift of leadership, sad yielded to him. So Ironboro ires bid out. A railroad wu built from it to one nf the main transportation lines. Furnaces, rolling mills, steal works and kindred Industries ware soon in full blast, stately structures of granite aud brick were erected. In five yean Ironboro was a flourish ing little city. In ten years it sru an impor tant industrial center. In fifteen years it wu generally spoken of ass metropolis. So much prosperity had its natural effect upon John Bbir. The Iron King, as he wu called, bad always been cold and nnsympa- thet'e. and hb success did not change him for the better, •"ine proudest man that ever itapped." said one of hb acquaintances in speaking of him, and Ms appearance jostlfied it. If John Bbir loved anybody it wu hb daughter, a beautiful girl Just blooming into Eellehood. ’ She was motherless, and perhaps IMS had 'sonnt’iing~to”dojwlth her father's tenders esc. It wu to dream of this daughter, and pbn a birthday surprise for her, that tha million aire took a stroll on a quiet Sabbath morning in tha auburU of Ironboro. He answered the salutations of hb fellow-townsmen with a cut* nod, aud proceeded on hb way. He could not afford (a shake bands with any human crea ture unless he represented a cool million at the leMte On, and stilt onward the rich map. walked, until he wuoet of right oftosrere »;nd steeples aud mansard roof*. But the teugual exercise IMIgued him, and finpll; no threw MnueU “1 do not know you,” wu hb reply. “I am Dick Mortis!" Blair taunted a sitting posture, and grasped hb walking stick with a firm grip. “Wei),’’ He remarked caroleeily, “you seem to havo bad a rough tussle with the world. Such b lire. Some go up and somo go down. I have gone up." Morris remained silent, and hb impassive Ace expressed no emotion. — ' a should have ! ha! A great country b the r There wu room for you out there. I am sur- prbed to see you back hero.” “John Bbir," replied Morris, “If my appear ance surprise.* you, what do you think my sur- I riao must be? I left thb place a wilderness, find Its great city.” “Jnstso, Dick. It Is a great city. And I havo made it. I own most of it. I own most ef tho men and women iu it. Why, Dick, tlioso hire lings over tln-io, whether they wear hroadrloth or .icon*, aro my slave*. They run at my bcclc and cnll. They bask In my smile, and aro wretched when I frown, Tho Lord has been good to me, old fellow." “And what has made you so rich?” asked Morris fiercely. “Brains, friend Morrir; 1,rains and hard Work.” ’ "Why uot say Tohhcry?” "J.a- here, Dick .Mortis, you most Lake your self off," growled the Iron King, "But it was robbery," was tho answer. “I know tho whole story. You took ad vantage of my ignoranco and stupidity. You prowled aV.-iit on my land, nnd dircovered Iron. Then you stoffod mu with wettero fable*, bought my proporly for u song, and jreituadr d mo to try my luck beyond tho Mlaalmlppl, I took your advice, I wont. Tho land swindler* got most of my tommy. I tolled hopeleiKly with my wlfo ami children J tar after year, hut to nopurpore. Thu iload- y swamp fever carried off my family ono by one, and left me tha wreck or my formorat-lf. I tramped it all the way hero, and what h*vo 1 found? Happiness and wealth that should havo been mine I find cratered in you." Blair rose to bio feet, lib foce had resumed its every-day bard look. “Woll, what aro you going to do about it?’ he asked. 'Tha law b on my aide.” “The law!” sneered Morris, “What Is the Uw worth when you have an utterly deeper, ate man to deal with ?’ The millionaire turned pale. What wu the bw worth In such a case? Ho grasped bis stick more firmly. "Did yon follow me here?” ho asked. “I did!” “And your object ?’’ 'To kill you I" Bbir raised his stick. Morris stepped baelc aud draw a pistol. "Hold, my friend,” said the threatened mao, you do uot mean to say that because I got ths est of yon in a trade you mo? Tho Iron b mine,” “And your blood b mine!”- cried Morris, cocking hb pistol, God's sake, Morris, stopl Wo can make somo arrangement. Think of my daughtar!” "Your daughter, you robber.' What wu my daughter's hto?” With tho desperate fury of a brave man at hay, Blair rushed forward with uplifted iticKa A share report rang out, and the Iron King fell heavily to the ground with a ballet through hb brain. • eeeeso* Blair’s fete bad a mystery connected with it that the Ironborodetcctlvca could not unravel. A pistol wu found by tho dead man’s side. Wu it ninrder or suuide? The dluppeannos of an unknown tramp gave color to tho mur der theory, but the fact that the dead man bad not been robbed made it doubtful. Tbe troth was not known n Ing tramp In a ho tha story of tbe crime. Ha expressed no re grets, tnd with hb last breath uclalmed: "1 had to take bit lifo to get even. It took hb blood to pay for my Iron!” CLffiAR THE GALLERIES. was caused in the hall of the house of repre- sentstlvee thb afternoon. The special order ws* the puaage of the high licensed bUl and tha gallery tnd hall of lire house were nocked with spectators. The capitel, while almost a new building, ha* been considered unsafe for some month* and considerable plastering has recently Allen. Shortly aftar tho union be gan the attantioa of Chairman Donnelly waa called to tha fact that the ceiling cross- beams appeared to he tattling, and one member declared that the gallery had settled four inches. A motion wu hurriedly carried that spectators lie excluded, whereupon tho gallery and abbs were cleared. It b tho opinion or many that a frightful disaster was narrowly averted by the prompt action of Chairman Donnelly. Suheeooentiy a rotolu- tien wu passed for an Immediate examination of the building by experts. The building was erected In 1880. It sras examined and re paired last winter. It b aid tbe timber* are. affected with dry rot. Tho Manna Loa Volcano. Han Fbancmco, February 10.—Adrlces from Honolulu report that tho voleaon Manna Laa, on Hasreii bland, Is again active. Tha craptlon began January 15 with an explosion of lire, smoke and lava. Tbe latter flowed, down through fissures, and if its course is not changed it will flew to the sea withont doing much damage. Earthquake shocks were fre quent throughout tho bbttd, hut were without serious consequences.