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1 Hi'E r MBk t i OTfflll /*ni^^„y s , sa jiv*W VOL. XIX. P ARIZONA INCIDENT. BY WILLIAM WILLARD HOWARD. Business wasdull with Mr. John Wray; just ’what that business was would be diftieull to say, And 1 doubt if Mr. Joint Wray himself could, s>r rather would, have explained it satisfactori ly ; but whatever it was there seemed to be no doubt about its dullness. Mr. John Wray hint self said so to his side partner. Mr. Sandy McTavish, otherwise known as “Three lin gered Scotty.” As discreet persons were not ‘in the habit of gainsaying Mr. John Wray un necessarily, and as neither Three Fingered 'Scotty nor Mrs. Wray ventured an opinion upon the there could be no two ways about it. Business was dull. Ostensibly that business was stock raising and inniing. All that .Mr. John Wray overdid toward these two honorable pursuits was to brand all the calves he could find twice a year, whether they were his or net,and to do enough Work on his mining claims to hold a title to .them. As a matter of fact, in view of a sign conspicuously posted on the mining claims ,threatening death to anyone who molested thorn, no one sought to test the titles to Mr. 'Wray’s property; but, as Mr. Wray himself expressed, there was no harm in being on the safe side, especially when a heartless corpora tion might at any moment swoon down and swallow up the fruit’s of an honest man s lil’e ’time of work. By this it was tacitly accepted that Mr. Wray meant to imply that he was the lionost man in question. I do not mean it to be inferred that I ever questioned Mr. Wray’s honesty. In fapt, 1 have even heard Three Fingered Scotty declare in moments of social relaxation, that Mr. Wray was the squarest man that he had ever done business with. What that business was no one presumed to inquire, for in addition, as one might to the loss of three fingers of his left hand, Scotty bore othe rnarke of a conflict with fate. Unfeeling persons had not only robbed him of the greater part of his left ear. but hml broken his nose and left a crimson scar across his right cheek. When Mr. John Wray took pains to inform his side partner that business was dull he sat on the light side of a large open fireplace in his own rambling old log house near the Little (Colorado river, in Arizona. His wife sat on the opposite side of the hearth, and Scotty -at a trifle back in the shadow. It was Scotty’s custom to sit in the shadow, as his eyes had an aversion to bright light, particularly the glare ( of the sun. AV ray’s daughter ihlith, a remark- Vbly li 'iidsomo girl about sixteen yeats of age. stood in the kitchen washing the supper dislirs. “There’s a girl as is a girl.” said Wray, nod ding toward the open doorway, as Edith sang a snatch of a western song. "Why don't yoii go in and win Scotty?” “You needn’t make no fun o’ me, John iWray.” returned Scotty, in a sulky tone of vomu.; ‘fyostrioj. afiw; g.t .no eh.imm. S-.-. won’t look at mo so long as tb.n Mavenek over on 'toll.er range comes round I.ere ; tfiai J>c’ Vincente, that’s who I mean. M here begets liis mime is niqre'n I know, ’cause its a Span ish name, an’ if ther ever was a thievin' Eng lishman, he’s the one." “Yon musn’t think badly of Jack: you kuow bo’s one of us, and you know what a steady hand lie K” "Ye-, f know.” “Well, you needn’t be scared about Jack and the girl, for she no more will have him tbm: Mie will have you." "You can bet she wont have either of ns since tii.it Barclay came foolin’ around, a-pre tendin’ to be lookin' up Indian ruins an’ such truck. His goin’ up to Moqui was all bosh. I. tell you he wan’t no relic hunter. If he won’t a out an' out secret service agent or detective or suthiv.' o’ that sort you kin bet my name ain’t Scotty.’’ "1 never ask no num what his name is- bis real mime, you understand—because there are some tilings that a man may not want known, but you can bet on it, Scotty, I hat girl won’t take i’|> with any body unless she takes a no tion to. She’s got some queer notions, may be. for the likes of you and me, but she knows wliat she’s about.” "I should think so, 'specially since that Bar clay was here an’ filled her head with a lot of eastern notions. It ain’t the notions for the Valley o’ th’ Little Colorado.” "lie'll be along this wuy tomorrow. I guess. I saw Moqni Bill today, and Im said that Bar clay had U tt the Pueblos an' was on his way to Flagstaff. He’ll want to stop hereto rest his horse and pack mule.” “If 1 take th’ notion I’ll blow th’ top of his head clear over to th’ .Marble Canon. If 1 don’t. Jack Vincente, will.” ’’Well, it’s none o’ my funeral, but 1 don't see how blowing his bead oil will help either you or Jack with the girl." “it’ll get him out of the way. anyway.” “Yes.and get a lot of those < msed detectives ftround here again. You can do as you like, hut I don't sic the use,especially whin the man is on his way borne. ’’ Three ' ingered Scotty sat ;:ml smoked in si lence ihe < asun) observer would have found it difficult to determine whether lie wa- merely brco.iing over the pangs oi i nrequited Jo.c.r forming plans for the murd> r of the offending bti ingei. “Tliat’ll put a stop to busim -for a while, ' he al length said. “WL:»t will .'” asked Wray. “That Barclay coinin' here. We can’t do anything with him here, and him a detective or something.” “Weil, we can look aftci the stock for a while.” the sto k can look out for itself; and be sides. it’s all yours anyway. ’ ‘•But Juan Montoya has -.cine young calves, and I want sour help to look after some of them. Business is dull now, anyway. There hasn’t a decent stage load gone down the val ley f<»r a month. Then ha been nothing hut a pacel of traveling murmoLs. There’s no use fooling with Mormons, for they haven’t any mono;.. And besides, 1 have an idea, and I want to get a point or two from the stranger.” “Weil.” said Scotty, with significant empha sis, “you'd better get your points first.” II Clement Barclay rode up to the Wray lion- • late the next afternoon. John Wray helped him t<> unsaddle his horse and mule ami had< him wecome to the place. Scotty was oil look ing afi- r Juan Montoya’.-. alves in the intere-t Mr. John Wray. Mis. Wray and hei ftaughtei carried into tin house the Granger's Saddle and blankets, ami subsequently made stirring preparations for sipper. Lan i in the evening, when seated comforta bly in his cha’r by the iTeplauu Wray exerted liimseJ to entertain hi »i-itor with 'tori'•> nl western advent are. In return Barclay told him oi the ea t and ol ik«* wonders oi <iim <• find the benefits oi civilization. Edith YY ray listened w ’h dreamy (y a cue um-Lancd. jßy s!ov. i' 4ir- ;lhe cm a’lon g - around to railroads. Mr. W. ■ > confessed with so.i ■ thing like -••• f-dispa. .tg- aa ntti o although la- Jui'J sc. n t i.e ovi !<..ml tr.d.f - pass Fla; ail • u • era! times, he wa» • huniiiar with the m -.n per of their Gp .-ratiem Bare! y exp’due 1 as iiccuiately «as !■■: could tlm constiuctiun of the locomotive ami the arrangement of the car-. seemed especially imm.-.ted in Hiein wrior s a Ixli visions cf the imu! I o.x p:» Ha' ing qimnched Li®, thirst f« . know led :< ■ < Coming mail and cxutvv*. cars, Mr. John Wi , lighted a piece of pinon wood at the tiro ami went off tohed. Notwithstanding Three Fingered Scotty's designs,Barclay slept in safety. Early in the day he announced his intention of riding over to a neighboring Indian ruin and back, and then setting out fur Flagstaff, where he would re turn his horse .and mule to their owner and take the cast bound express train the next morning. ••There's no use of your being in a hurry, Mr. Barclay.” said Wray. “I’m sure you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” “Thank you very much,” returned Barclay, “but as my mother and some friends are going ec.st on that train. 1 shall have to go.” Barclay put spurs to his horse and rode off to the Indian ruin. On his way back he was joined by Edith Wray mounted on a tough looking mustang. *• I >hould think that you would gel lonely out in this wild country,” Barclay' said, half perfunctorily. He was thinking of the traces of ancient Toltec civilization that he had found in his search among the ruins. •'Well, yes: I <b> sometimes.” the girl said, looking wistfully into his thoughtful face. “I can’t help it any, though ; so what's the use?” “Your father might sell some of his cattle,” Barclay snggsted, as one might demonstrate a proposition in Euclid, “and send you cast fur a w hile.” “ I did ask him to, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He’s rich enough to do it. ten times over, but he didn’t want me getting any city ways.” •’Yes, that is too often the way with parents. They do not want their children to have any privileges that they themselves did not enjoy when young.” ••Butthat wasn't the way with pap. He had advantages, 1 know, and he is real smart. Hi' don't talk like the people around here.” ‘ Don’t he? I hadn’t noticed.” “Mam does.though. She and Throe Fingered Scotty talk alike. It’s queer, isn’t it? And there’s another queer thing: Mam's and Ban's eyes are black as black can be, and mine are blue; did you ever notice?” Barclay shook himself as though waking from sleep, and looked at the girl. He raised his eyebrow s in involuntary surprise, as he no ted the contour of her face, the poise of her head, and the modeling of her Hgure. es,” he said, at length, seeing that an answer was expected, “your eyes are blue.” A look of yearning which had crept into the girl's face unawares deepened into disappoint ment as Barclay spoke. She felt in itinetively that his remark should, in some undefined way, set at rest the doubt and vague giopings of her own mind. He was the accepted representa tive of that great world hundreds of miles be yond the furthermost rim of eastern hills, and she felt that he could as by unrecognized in stinct explain away the misgivings and incon sistencies of her own unsatisfactory life, lie could tell why she had no tastes in common with her mother, and looked with distrust upon the strange goings and coinings of her father, ile could make clear to her why she found no pleasure in the society of the wives and daugh ters of the casual settlors whom the Wrays called their neighbors. Ho could do these things which perhaps meant so much for her, and yet he merely said in an indifferent way that her eyes were blue. The girl said no more, but rode on home in silence. After dinner Barclay saddled his horse and put the 'pack on his muh*. preparatory to start ing for Flagstaff. " Yoif saiJ'V. ra< i good nii-Jit's sleep, toe, before taking the liyin.” • Yes,” ret'arijcii Bar- iay. us he settled him self in the saddle, “I’ll do'it easily. The only thing tliat annoy.s me is getting up in the morning to catch the train.” What time does the train leave Flagstaff?” asked Wray, in a tone of seeming indifference. “Al 5:10 o’clock—just at sunrise.” Barclay looked around for Edith, and not seeing her, bid good-bye to Wiay and his wife. “Bid your daughter good-bye for me,” he called out as he rode away, /it a turn in the road Bar clay found the gill waiting for him on her j.-mv. ”1 thought I <1 ride along a piece with you.” she said, and w ithout another word she tinned her pony’s head ami rode along by hisside. “I don’t suppose you'll ever come back here again ?” ”<>, I think so,” he returned, not noticing the trace of hesitation in her manner: “why no. “it's sin h a lonesome country; nobody here that yon’d c ire to talk to.” lie looked quickly at her. but did not catch the expression oi her averted face. “You’ll bo lu re, 1 suppose.” he said slowly. “Most likely. But I—l’d—” “You’d like to go cast ? Well, you might arrange it. after awhile.” Her moody face gave him a sudden tinge of pity. “1 don't know,” she 'aid. Pap don’t, want me to, ami besides, I couldn’t P-ave mam. She wants mo with her, and she’s contented where she is. i’ll have to grow’ up and—and die here.” “Don’t be downhearted; something may happen to let you go east.” “I don’t .-ee how. Mam wants to stay here, ami .I’m bound to stay with her. <7, no; 1 wouldn’t )e;*vo he: for the world.” Soineth'ng « f this girl’s unselfish sacrifice tom bed Bhrc'ay like the cry of the distressed. “If ever I can do au> tiling: if you are ever in a po-.i’ion to m* •! help, will you send to im* ? I will do my host. I wish that J had some thing io give y<»u that might remiml you of me. Stay, here is my watch. It will k'-ep you com; any. as it has me for many a long day. Good bye.” H<- held out his hand. She took it, and looked up for a moment into his earnest face. “Good bye.” she whispi retl. Tie-n he turned and rode away m the dull gray plain. The girl waicln d hi ilosM n mg figure until a tear trickled down her fresh young cheek ami fell upon her brown hand. Then she. too, turned and rode slowly home ward. What depths of hidden possibilities lay underneath the rippled surface of their part ing neither he nor she knew or understood. ill The daily routine of household work went on as usual that afternoon. Only once did Mrs. Wray complain of her daughter's lack of spirits. “ 'Pears to me,'’ she said, “you're not so peart thii all’noon. Ye ain't mopin', I hope, ’specially'vhen there's two likely young men to be here to supper. Ja* kll be here, an' Lasso Mack, to say nothin’ o' Three Fingered Scotty.” ‘ Tney’J be here for supper:” repeated the girl, “what for?” “ Yer father a,-l;i‘d them. They're to hev a talk on basin- alter supi.er.’ “Business! What business? Stock raising?” “I dunno. I never asks yer father abc>ut his affairs. I ilid «mcc”—with a rnclul counte nance “and I i-cvcr will again.” “Tell me.” .->.ud the girl carnes-ly. rat< hing her mother's arm and !■ oiling into her face, ‘what I this in t< i ou® b .dm that I’.ip in alwa> ; looking after? It isn’t stock raising or mining, ami ther* isn't any other honest busi nc-s around here that J know’ of.” “I diumo,” returned the woman, breaking away from the girl’s grasp. “H«* never tclis iiv hU business, it’-; mm has J can du to keep the hoU' l ' lookin’ decent, and take keer o’ th stock. If it want for me, that man wouldn’t have- a critter left inside a year, he's no kcerbis* us cm. The giri P <- i:i cd her work. “H L: Mack and Jack Ym<•< nt»- < rune here to supper,” the - ml at I'-njih. o ' will have to wait on the table. ITivot , L< J ooner than see them. La 'O.Mai k i-ii’t any company for Fap: he's nothing better tli;«ii . cominoit horse thief, as you know well enough. As for Jack Vincente, I J in’t I • h' .‘iiy better. lie don’t look ‘ Well, y-n r fathei can pick his company for all inc. You can do as \ou please 'boat waitin' ATLANTA, GA., TUESDAY, J ANUAl ’ Y 31, 188 S. on th’ table. 1 ain’t so old but I guess I can ! d<» that much alone.” True to her intention Edith retired a- soon as the evening meal was ready for the ibe. She tossed about on her pillow for some t ime and then fell asleep. She awoke from at ■ troubled dream several hours later with < strange and unaccountable feeling that ll.rru j was trouble or danger at hand. By listening ; intently she heard voices outside the l.u’.i. e. She arose and raised her bedroom window a ; few inches and then lay down 'i nv 1 voices came nearer. She heard her father - talking. “1 don't like this job,” he was .saying. “If it wasn’t that business was dull, as I told I cui ly last night, 1 wouldn’t have anything to<i» w ith it. But, as I. say, business is mighty <i vJ. There hasn’t been a decent haul on thoMof imm wagon road for six months; Stock h> pays well enough, but it’s hard work. < mby because business is dull, mind you, do I go i:in> j this thing. It s risky, because this is the time Wve tried; but if everything* read .1 don’t see why we shouldn’t carry it thru*, ii. Arc you sure that there are plenty of handy at Canon Diablo?” “Yes,” replied Lasso Mack, to whom the question was addressed; “there are s> ue bridge timbers and a pile of railroad ties r s ’;t alongside th’ track. When the engineer co” around the curve he’ll have to stop, or be stopped. Are you sure about the express car?” **O, yes,” said Wray, “I got the plans from that stranger, Barclay, that was here yester day.” "But he’ll be on th’ train,” said a voice, which Edith recognized as Scotty’s. “I s'i»ose Jack an' inc’ll have to look out for him We owe it him for turnin’ the head of the gak Hey Jack?” There was a growl byway of assent. Then the voices died away, and pre-s- I'ntly the sound of horses’ hoofs were heard op a rocky piece of road leading across the s.ni(') plain. The girl lay for some minutes like one stmr ned. Grief and shame and fear rent herhc.vt almost assunder. The full realization oi tlm truth came home to her w’ith overwhelmir t force. Her father—pleasant spoken, cduvatcl John Wray—was a stage robber. This was th mysterious business that was dull—stage w J bing! The girl groaned in anguish, in th: t brief moment of agony the world seemed turn ed upside down. All her ideas of lilial low and respect, so strong and clear before, tunc -I to chaos, as though blown by the breath of r. cyclone. Presently, when her thoughts gn calmer, she put together w ith infinite grie'i ai o pain the stray Words that she had heard. D. came upon her at length, with a heartbreak ing sho< k, 1 hat the east bbund express was io be robbed by those lawless men. and tha.i Clement Barclay was to be murdered. Half stupefied with horror the girl rose and dre< ed herself with trembling hands. I! .• first impulse was to rouse her mother. Wlrnt need for that? What could her mother do b prevent the wicked act ? Assuredly, the timid obedient soul could do nothing. What could she herself do? She sat on the edge of the bed to think. The train was to be robbed at Canon Diablo in bread daylight. Canon Diablo 1 was forty miles east of Flagduff. The log * house W'as about thirty miles north of the rail- { road, and about the same distance from Canon • Diablo and Flagstaff. By strict inoasureme;/ Flagstaff was tlrrtx-tive miles away and Cunu. ; Dkiblua omewliat lessgr di’-taiv ? _1 it wr-i unless to tiiii'i; of bjjZ)wing the •- A to Canon,Diablo. Tbe men we’*e <l< A and the.v v . iMmi* of iiojinerlviun; o witiv their plans. If Flagstaff could be reached be fore the train started the robbery could be pre vented and Barclay’s liie saved. But how could that robbery bo prevented? Edith real ized with a sinking heart that the only way of ' preventing it was the two of force. If there was an encounter Wray might be killed or ■ captured. In any event he was sure to be di- • graced. Even if he_escaped b v.-nubl hnrxi_i_ with her, for he would know that she had given i the alarm. For a moment her mind wavered I under the awful strain cast upon it, and then she looked out and saw the stars and the moon shining clear and bright down through count less leagues of air. She turned away with a sigh. “The train leaves Flagstaff nt ten minutes past five, lie said.” she, whispercd under her breath. “1 wonder what time it is now. Hi.; watch. Yes, it ticks. Lot me hold it up to the light. Merciful < h»<l! Twelve minutes of two! Too late! Too late!” She reeled back like one stricken with a mor tal hurt. Instantly, however, she became calm Her brain was clear as the quiet night. Was it too late? ( ould it he done? Flagstaff was thirty-five miles away, and there were two hours and twenty-two minutes to do it in. It would take her twelve minutes to saddle her horse, provided that the horse was near by. That w ould leave two hours ami ten minutes f ji- the ride to Flag Ml- She would try. She reached down ner saddle from a peg on the wall and thrust it through the open win dow. She followed it like an acrobat. I n i winding her lariat lii.m the pommel j of the. saddle she ran to the knoll to look for a horse. There was one grazing a short distance away. It w'as Chiquita, her own saddle pony. I She ran down to the pony with endearing ; words. Chif|U’ta caja red off for a frolic. Th«- i jierspiration started from the girl’s foreh' .id. I What if she < ould not catch Ghiquita in tii. < ’ I Can fully she looped the lariat on her aim and I ran alter the pony. As the mu-tang loped past her sh.e swuua the hea\y rawhide loop above | her head and let it go. Chiquita stopped short. ! a lassoed pony. “Come, Chiquita, come,” said the girl, and I the pony obeyed. It seemed a long, weary time before the two ciiicha .of the bi;; side saddle were properly ! secured. Edith loo*; her time, for‘ he felt that in the ride before Imr she could not risk a lu< so girth. Al I ngth all was ready. She glanci <! at th<’watch. “It is two o’clock.” she said. “<). Chiquita. Chiquita! T’hi.s is the last rto-e that you will ever run !” Then she mount' d the pony and rodesluwly away from I he house. Out of sight and sound of the house he turned ; into the l lagstaff trail. ‘•Now, Chiquita!” she said. Th'-re was a ; wild scramble of hoofs on the hard ground. The long ride, was begun. The night was nearly a light as Jay. The ’ moon shone bright and lull upon thcgho tly t gray landscape. The air was so still that the : hoof beats of the flying p' Dy echoed again from the bare hills. The rush of cool air on . her lu'ij gave Edith that calmne s which ’ seemed to her so necessary for the sue*ess of , her mi'sion. She must act deliix rat* ly.or ihe i puny would not be able to make the race. Ten I miles out from home she stopped at a pool of i water to let the pony moisten his throat. '1 hen ■ again the little horse went <ci at the same tin- i flagging pace. Fifteen miles out along the ' dim trail Edith looked again at her watch. “Three o'clock,” she said aloud, to give the ; mustang the cheer of a human voice. “It is I too fast, Chiqifita, you will not hold out.” The little lioisi- Hew on, mile after mile. * with heaving Hanks and wide distended nos- ; triN. Day Ir.-gan to brighten the ' .-,’ern sky. On n e more the till loo.; out her wah-h. Il was four <»‘cl-ok. The j.ony had wone twenty-live mil* . Little Chiquita Lad b« 'ji well Indued. ’ 'Tim obedient animal would 'gallop on iin qmr red and uiiw hipped until slu fell in her tracks. Few blood; d horses will do that. Chiquita was ! not a blooded horse, but only a mustang ol the w'ondcrful California breed. A tinge of crimson camo into the sky, her alding the approachingday. C’hi<iulta g » Hoped I on bravely. Her breath c one harder and more in gawps. She was failing, failing, slowly . enough, it is true, but still failing. 'I be gnailed pinon tree there was just thirty miles from ! home. Flagstaff was only sh e miles away. “O, Chiquita. Chiquita!” cried the girl, 1 it i is twenty minutes of five.*’ The noble litll'- animal struggled to the top of a long grailo ami went on toward Flagstaff. W hat was that! A long drawn roaring sound broke on the still air. Then a ighl Hashed afar in the dim light. The train was coining. Day camo up over the eastern hillAand .smiled <»n the sterile Arizona plains. There, in plain sight, was the train nearing I’lagsiaij! A few moments more ami it stopped at the station. ‘ “O. Chiquita, I hiqu.ita!” cried the girl in 1 anguish. “\Ve must reach there! I have never touched you with a whip. But now ” A keen rawhide quirt hissrd through the air and stung the noble brute’s Hank. Biind.stag goring, gasplug. the pony made the hut wild rush of her gallant race. Nearer she came to 1 the train. Then there was a clang of the bell. I and a puff of steam. Time was up. Thu train W'as moving! Hpoevitlc s,hhlf era ed with smldcn <1: ead.tl c g’t! waved hor haul Tike a banner. Whilcthe | train wasslowly gathering headway Jte da died up to the side of the engine, and she and tlm , pony fell together in a heap on tho ground. | t he race was won ! A group of curious mon gathered about her : as she arose from her lalk n friend. Clement Barclay, who saw her last frvn ied m t, rushed and stopped the train, sprang to her side and clasped both her hands in his. “Edith, what is this?” he asked. Briefly, yet calmly, she told him of the ton t miniated train robbery ami his own danger. Teats gathered in his eyes as hi' listened to her story ami saw the foam-covered pony roll over hmp and lifeless. Barclay took the eiil into the tiain and gave hei into his motiicr's charge, while he ami the men on tho cai-s made preparations lor fighting the robbers. The train ran <»n to Canon Diablo on schedule time, it pulled out «»i the station and went on around tho curve when* the rob bers lay in wait. Near the pile of logs it stopped. Then the robliers made the attack. To their surprise the men on the tiain were ready for them. John Wray ami Jack Vin cente were killed outright. Three Fingered Scotty was wounded, and Lasso Mack was cap tured. When tho lightir g was over Ban lay went back to the Pullman car to find Edith. “My I dear friend,” said lie, “you have saved my life i ami the lives of the rest of the pa> • rs on ; the train. YVe never can repay our debt of gratitude. You have saved us. noble girl, hut at a terrible cod, for you now have no lather.” Edith sat like one lured to stone. She had done, right, but it had indeed cost Inn* dear. Ho had done tho wrong, and tin* vengeance of heaven had overtaken Miim. She bpyved her head in an agony of grief. “ You will come with us, I'.ditli,” said Bar clay. gently, “We will comfort you ami care for you, ami my mother shall be your guardian.” “No, that cannot be,” she returned. “My dmy now is back at the log house. Mother will need me now. She is atone, and I must be with her. 1 thank you, Mr. Barclay, bi t my duty is.here.” Nothing could move her. No pleadings could induce her to remove w ith her mother to the home of her eastern fiiemls. In that lonely pail of Arizona, when‘ her father's wayward life came to such an inglorious eml, she would lay and outlive her shame and disgrace. She would not hear of Barclay's remaining a lew days to straighten out the tangjed lines of her tile. If the railroad company would take care of her father’s holy until he could send for il with a wagon she wo/ld Lonow a |iorse and ride hotno y H wasm mattvi enougfi, and sde would rather btf uTone with her grief ami he- e’e -de I life. She had bur wuy. All entreaties failed before her calm dote;miuation,oven though she knew that when Barclay ami the eastern express went out of her sight the hope and promise of her life would go too. »She alighted wdicn the train backed up to Canon Diablo. Then, when ail that could be done was finished, she stood on the little platform and watched the train and all in il disappear around that fatal curve. TOKTUKE BY i A MINE. An Unfortunate < mature Who Was Hanged Up Without Food. From the North China Daily News. Y'esterday wo visited the (’lm 'i(‘ie: ’ yamun in the city lor the purpesc us inquiring into tlie truth of the statement that a criminal was exposed in a cage, and was being therein starved and tortured to death. Such an event is of rare occurrence in Shanghai city of recent ‘ y<‘ar<. ami its revival by the new district mag istrate is somewhat surprisin' 'l’m* unfortu nate creature stood upright in a bamboo cage, about five feet high, with his neck through a eangtte, by whiuh he would have been almost suspended oral bast, the tips of his toes would h irely have touched the bottom of the cage - ha<l it not been that some person had piac- d a huge slono under the man'.-. Icet. By this bis sufferings were greatly relieved and his < luiiu's of d< ath by strangulation re duced. He did not look parth ularly disln cd at his position amid the raillery and tho jeeis of the 8p' w, !;»tors, who displayed anal most fiendish <h light in mocking bis stat'-, to which beseemed not loth to reply with inter est, and a perfect lire us abuse was kept up between tho, < ruel people and the wretched prisoner. We learn that in the morning a friend of his gave him some, rice and water, ami also prcpari d him a pipe of opium with whiuh to soothe his Ktiffei ings. 11 this humane friend, however, was dote'ted in bis merciful ministrations by the authorities there is no doubt that ho would be punishedMoverely, por haprt even clapped into a similar cage. it would seem that the yamcn people made no provision for providing the prisoner while in tlm cage with any kind of food, and tb.at they also direct dire threats against any one who might give him any. The man is described :»s a desperate thief ami has been in prison ten | yeai . His last off<*nse was stripping pris</iici s ; of tkicir clothes and stealing everything else of Hu little that these wretched iteings po.ss< I H' legs ar'*, weighed down with heavy i chains. and, altogether, his tortures 1 in the horrible contrivance gave ' .i strong contradiction to the belief that the <'hinese are becoming more humane of their ! judicial system, in no other country ol the worl J,boasting <d any soil of civilization would such a thing be tolerated, and Ih<* worst fea ture of it is that the neople generally applaud the cruelty of tho Choheicn and have nosym- I pathy with the unfortunate man. Our ini- 1 pression "as that they were very much disap pointed that the stone. was given to him, al- , though they made no attempt to remove it i while we were there, and they :•!-<» denounced ! the humanity of the man who fed him. An Original Reformer i ron, the New York rt .r. Itobcrt Harding recently collected a •r< vd i in front of a public ball in London. Win n a jxiltce man •!' ked him what he wrs doing, lie -,iid: “I am here lor the purpose of tilting the rl jit ol fn e stM.ech. I cHii.e huetxi deliver asp« c bon jx-h'i u anarchy.' He reiuf-ed to go away, so <1 the police man. n’t rmpt nz to t•*!<»• him, found him fuHtencd loan run railin ' l»y a Jchahi around his wnid, cl | | i , , a rei .--I to tel Ute u'lmbmatmu cf the lock, and expressed a willing mH. to die with ii sniil'j on his lips tor free speech, '1 n - crowd finally told him that Le w»s making a Pm. of iiim.-oh'. tmd he consented to unlock hinr' If ami goto the station house. \% >< .> a mpned in i < - ut he war i'.‘b • cd with u wntnlu:'. Hhldcn (fold and Silver. From the Henry G uuty, <»a , W'-ukly. Then? is an opinion prevailing in the minds of the deiiizeiK <>f this quiet village that there is a large amount of gold ami silver hidden in the old houses and gardens around town. Our people are thought to have hidden treasure from the yankee thieves in and in many instau'e-, not to have found il. Whether this theory be conect or not, wo cannot say, hut certainly it is, while at play young Victor L’pehurch unearthed a twenty dollar gold pie.ee, and the prelumptiou Uth »t mor© Qf the wrt A WAR TRAGEDY. From the Philadelphia Nows. A war story tuiiay. Something about nonh ■ Alabama and Fort Delaware. A fascinating subject always, in spite ol the years since Ap pomattox. A story told by a brilliant fellow , who tells a story well. Hr s;rd: If you have never boon in the valley of the Tennessee—l mean that part <»l the famous valley that stretches south westward from the great Sand mountain to tho picturesque table lands of Monte Sano, you have missed a scene tho fairest of all in that country us laT scenes. I I wiil not attempt to describe it. 1 cannot do it justice. No one can. 11 is the paradise of i north Alabama, and in the heart of that far I southern district devastat <1 by war, ami y<d, | thana . to its protecting bulwark of mountams, j its plcasaut homes ami well-tilled lands es caped almost unscathed. Not many miles to the north is Lookout, mount lin and the battlefields of Mission Itidgo and Chickamauga. Farther to tho south and west, and on tlie same great trunk line that passes within the shadow of tho heights on which Hooker fought his“battle in the clouds” is that already famous young city of phenom enal growth, Decatur, ami beyond that, tho new Sheffield ami war-scarred Corinth. But while this corner of tho groat valley saw little of either blue coals or gray -except, per haps. an occasional foraging party that chance led away fi’<»m the railroad and into the garden land he tween the big hills, the vallej gave its best blood for the cause of the conlrderaoy, and sons and brothers lelt the cotton unph kod in the field to join Bragg ami hi-, gathering ho.su across the border I’no of Tennessee, or to follow tie* foriuues of Morgan or Stuart on (heir cavalry raids to !l;e norlh. I»:i< k from th<* Tennessee, in a cove pro | le. ted from the northers by the broml hack of Monte Sano, a hardy mountain farmer had ImiLi. a house of uncut stone—a poor place at best, bul a. home for the sake of what was in it. It was not a typical ’.southern home, for the good wifi- and mother "as housekeeper, dairy maid and gardener, all in one. while the two strapping boys, with their father, did the work that on other plantations fell to the task of the ncglsi :la\u-. Al the nearest store, at Mays ville, old John Kogers was w ith indiscriminate courtesy dabbed “colonel.” Why, he never knew. Perhaps no one. else did. Even before the war military titles were popular in Dixie. Now they arc all colonels. »S<> lew privat s ( scaped the war. Among the negroes ■ A’<.mel” John was looked upon with some disdain. A man who “worked” his farm without « .single black “hoy” was not likely towin the respect of “the quarters” at the big plantations on the liver. Farmers who worked wen' “poo-ah white trash” in those days ol easy imlolence. But “Colonel” John thrived lor all that and never a home in all tlu* broad valley was happier than that in the little cove under tl»e shadow oi Monte .Sano, News travels slow' in the count);. lu those days few new spapers found their wav into the . Teuii; s.sce \ aTey of Al;dL>:iTr»'-* :imi (he fit" i. . alit,,-.- uF _ -;i h’oit *'a. pic: too nti’tiwhy* to alfe.'t th? I raiiquilily of tho people l>y the great river. Thon came the iraiitic cult for troops by tho government nt Montgomery, and the great valley was al lasi nw'akencd to tho horrors of war. A recruiting oaice v.;■ . opened al Huntsville, ten mile ; away, mi the other side, of Monte Sano, ami husbands nml fathers and son- left their homes and people and wont away io the war. alley was desolate. The nugroeswent Hocking north ward in search ol the. army of emnm ioation, and the cotton was left in the hoi 1 to .poil. Then; came a time, when even food w as s« a roe, ami beef was worth its weight in the di.non* new scrip the confederate goveinmunt had issued. “I'olohol’' John fart'd worse than many, although lor month-, alter the boys of the lower volley had gone away into Tcmu" -u. hi • <n yielded to the wish ol the old folks and Uoyeit at. home. The time came, howe.-u-r, wju n honor compelled them logo, and they went; but llie eyes of the aged mother were wot with tears, ami tho f;u:e of the white-haired “Colonel” John strangely old, wh n they b.-ule their boys good-bye. There ait brave, hearts hero a* home who remember tho-u sad fare ~ el! when the boys in blue " ent Lt! away to Ii•• lit and <lie on the e southern bat t |e‘,i< hl . Th re wen? the .‘lime i ad parting ; in many a southern home, ami the war left lmmlrc<ls ol decimated families in thut fair valh v. Month.s pH’.scd ami then \<,u . ()• <• u.ionMly Jellur-i fioin the absent soldier boys < ;iu ■. io the. old folks in the <o\e. but they were few ami very far iietwecn. They hoi gone mufti aiul enlisted in the army ol Virginia. They had been at Bull Hun ami had been on the peniii mln in the checkerboard ope <al ions of Met’hdLin's campaign. The, latent letter, s.eriijblcd in pen-i! and written in luu.lu, ami read in that little home with aching yut thank ful heat t told of ■ nod he.iJlh ami «on federate sneers l Side by side the broth' r; had fought, as yet unhurt. Now th( \ were to go with L- u into tin- land of promise the rich, corn-grow ing valleys of Pennsylvania. (.eltysLuig came, amt tne army us Virginia, rudely awakened trom its victorious security, was Imrled bark a<:r<r . Maryland and into Virginia again by the military t eniiu of Me;nir. | In t,l- c carn-age <>| th' - first day the older brotlu r | was killed. Tho young-T, while retreating i with hij» decimated regiment li -m an unsuc- I ecssfiil charge, w.' . taki n prisoner, in uom ' puny with -.overal other Alabama soldiers, 1 young Kogers, < vcn then a mere boy, was f brought to Philadelphia, and from here sent ; to Fort I lelawaru, a- a prisoner of w ar. There ■ he remained until the sui render of Local Ap pomattox Court I louse. Ihe sad now of the Hat tie "f Gettysburg i was slow in i»-.tolling the lilth; home by Monte 1 Sano, bnl when it did come it broke the spirit I ol “t.’ohmel” Joi.n ami turned still whiter the ; head of the sweet-1 iced motlu i : for il wa . said that in the battle both boys had E'llen under . the show( io| federal Lails. It was not long i before there w; a “burying” from the. house I in the ' G’.c.and the body <>f “(,'olonei” .lohn | wa hud to rest among the pirn s h- loved so w< 11. i And the, mother ? She foowmtld gladly have i died, but nature was too strong. Thu time, came, moreover, when she was glad that death had spared her, for there came to her from far away Folt Delaware a letter from h< r sur viving boy, telling of tin- older biother’s death ami the yo.mger one'-, imp)isonmciit. Hhe read the i» lier many time , and as the tears lolled down her -itnl.i.m cheek she fell oh her knees ami thanluul God th.it one son nt lea-t had been .spared to her. A .sudden re ohition pos * ed her. Siu wo' id b avr the ! ’le.’iomc In the cove ami go away t<» tin- north. Kho would go to Fort Delnwarr, and they would not icfii'-w to let a mother sue her s>n even a I “rebel” moth' i . Once -he had looked upon i hi-, face again "•>- .d ha • cour.i?--. to wait I lor his re|< a e. Traveling v : « ’Jo"■. \\<eks pa cd before she was enabled io get through tho opposing ; lines and into Wasliihglon. At last, dying from want, sorrow and fatigue,, she stood in ■ the <'oininnh<lftutT room al Fort Delaware : with writh q ucimission to a e ami - peak with the boy she hived sq Wi 11. 'l'hey U*U ‘- 'I stories of l -.rt Delaware in the i BOulh« They <•'<!! it the L bby prison of tho nor'di. I don’t like to believe it. Neither do I They •ay that after a i ertidn engage i im-.nt tin- northe n gomnuls accused thoron ! (/idcra’.c ol one vittcHy Hud in rm ilitv PRICE FI VE CENTS. lion a score nr mors' prisoners were taken from the fort ami ignominiously hanged. Pcrhapi they arc mis!;i!;en. and there were better grounds for hanging than that. • By some means a rumor had gained crodenco in the prisoner's barracks thni something of the k’ml was to lake place, while the impres- ' sum prevailed that special vengeance was to he meted out. to tho soldiers of Alabama be j cause of alh god outrages committed by regi ments from that stalo. Y oung Rogers was not a <x»\vurd, but he had no desire to meet so , un-eldiei ly a (h ath. With that inventive genius which develops so rapidly among those held in < ontiuement, tho prisoners in’Rogers’s ' “gang” dug (»ut the stone work and earth under one of the bank*, and thus scoured, not only t« I comparatively safe hiding place for pilfered provisions, but a!>o for one or more of their number whoa evasion demanded that they should keep umle.* cover for a time j The rumor that retaliatory measures were iu order struck consternation to many a bravo I he nt. and when, for any reason, a federal i orderly came to the prisoners’ barracks and i culled the name of a “Johnny Reb,” therewtw a •j'nieral feeling of misgiving, ami an effort made, wlu n possible, to discover for what pur pose the prisoner was wanted before answering to his name. So that when one day the bar racks were excited to a fever point by tlu* call ( ing of a dozen names or more, and the name of I ‘‘Joe Roger.;’’ rang with StariHng distinctnesH. i in lhe cars of that young Alabamian, he aid I m»t wail to be seen, but hurriedly crawled into the “grub” hole, and held his breath for fear <>l discovery ami Ihe couseqm'm eM that would follow. Three times fh<? orderly eulle<L' “Joe Rogers! .Joe Kogers! Joo Rogers!” rang through the long corridor. Then tho piisoners crowded around, and tho orderly seemed to he unaware that Rogers had failed to answer to bis name, lie went away, and on the records it was written that. Joo I Rogers had been transferred -as even tho officers' thought to be hanged. Asad look came into tlu* face of the com manding otli;-er "bun the white-haired woman gave him the slip of paper that to her meant so much. ; “Rogers is not here now.” he said, finally. Nhe looked al him, dazed by the inlelli geiicc. “Not In-re?” “No; Im has been transferred.” “Where.” I The oifiuer had a henrl. “I Ido not know.’’ho said. He could not tell that sad-eyed woman what he believed to bo the truth. But ho could not deceive her. “He is dead!” Mio cried, wildly, and toller ing foi ward, tiho <'lasp(d her hand.; across her breast and sank into a chair. “My poor boy !” shv sobbed. “I lo*,cl you I po, and yet 1 was too late!” 'l'hc isirch<’d lids clo.cd ovet* the sad. gray eyes; lhe tired head fell forward, the nervous i fingers relaxed their hold. “Come." said lhe otliuur. kimlly, “yon must gon«»\v. I cannot peimil you to remain here.” There was no an er. “I am waiting ”he began again, ami then he paused abrupt’y. Something strange in her appearance startled him, ami hr- stooped down and peered into her faeo. .Ak he dui so tears eame, into his cyos Tin* sweet-faced mother would never Suu the vallev of the Tennes-.ee ’ again. j Hhe was dead' News dies tn jails-as it Hies pFewhcra. In J.‘ ’id Ji* l irn'e IP iCiLgJJ y*Rl. : .eg< i. .4 to hl the story of his moHu'i’s death. Stiong . man I hough he was, the shock was almost more than he could bear, and he grieved bit , terly al the tiiought that, even dead, he might m»( look up«n her face. But lie was glad for one thing. There were kind hearts among llm i»oy-. in bine, ami tin y took th< body of tho I dead mother across Io New Castle, ami there, j in the old rhivnTiynrd reverently lai<i it lorest. l.’ogei : limmiL-i d to es< ap< deie: tion lor th© few weeks remaining before the (‘lose of the ! wui. After the surrender ho was liberated and r. turned to Alabama. There he lives and there I met him. He told me this story, and I j repent it. because il comes so near home. It : intel.- ted mu. I Ihink it will you. Fulbelie Tale <»T a Widow. 1 rum a New York I c* u ■ A young woman, born in Brooklyn of re- '-.pet lahl mid wdl-t'-do |>areiiis, inauiud mi old num. who lull her n wi'loa with a comfortable fort ; ime in a \cry sl.oi i Ihne. Kiir fell under (he bale- ful iniluence of a foreign doctor, wl o alienated her ; from her timilly. (.blah e I p«c < • 1 «n of hei p <q.er j ty, moved with hei to .\rw Ymk, dra wing Id own frightened, helple-s family with film, located hern virtual prisoner iu a hmi e nol fur from the one ho occupied, kept i;.*r nlisoluteiy from the eyes of j friends, family, Hraii ta>, and d< niinated her m mind. I ody and ( .•stale, to r ch an extent that ; she bccftme a literal wrr« k. Kimv.lmc i |MTfvctly well her • oust itul'nil he permitted ht to go to a de* tint met to ink' uhh>rofo;tu. Within three horn-she "as e./.rd ui fi lemonliicr ami died. All {!.'.■ altui noon, all lie night. and a greater part ol the next da (he dr-ul bo l> lay hi t' r iq.hu wlu io the vohni ti I Hi'l I.i I lull, with not as u! in tho house e.vopl a I;i 'liirnc.l au-l line d -ervnnt. An uudeilak'T whs ca'lr I. ami so •ii-’uly '-non’h, for it l is an expensive opvuitiou wiihotil hixlraciiGiis, ho ; I'■ inn embalming ibe 1> »dy. <>r nt all even l > injected i an arsenical | r parr.iiou into iu Itiinmimid mx-Jp i took the new- of the woimm s death to her i nreutM mid relatives. A few |".imi'.s only were found iri j the house, iiiul the servant, oi servants ■ bad had nothing to eat lor nearly thir y- ■;ix Lo irs. fict* ad of luxury ttml com!, re tie re was c l . .fine- of • omparnti* e purer ty, and al "iuc u|xni lhe wings <d rumor Hew u tlei t'-au'l a’.snrd and contrfi'ljc''ny sTiiey. Tho . dlor had his ay and i-e »t il up. H -I? :id hard a.-* H bull'-t. lus n!;iij like lam(e:l hide, Eiuiw no dell- Ultcy of til Hight. 'Jlll.e w.i Ho S-otnihH' llboUt i Him; bul lhe par':n! u , l‘tr< nvc'l, era;, rd, hint t»c ; voii'i the poWei of WOi'R to pi> hire n |>« *i .1 be, h . i Hotlmig to my, Hothing b» do, but Io t 'ke liui di si, led remains, with old tim • low, and 1., ar the body wltii teiid'neT ml'ei t u to their ground* in < .rt. , cii , Ao< , 'l 'Hirn- uiijv have b'-cn no tra :< dy, tlciu ' '-ii.'dnly was romaneoMild meio druma ilie:e. \\ 1.0 had the I Ctrl Os il.* 'll'o setiritivu fllrHl-s or i’h; I ratal do' lo! / .hist so in all this gossip l»usi ih ’.he iinii.e. grabbing pulifishri r eklc-. a. to roU' W'plelH .SC' d.s « J di >( onl hro.ld' HSt over I the land ui d their victims MifU r. « Faying a l , rua( her in Tnlmeco. Mary f«ay H im •!.»'■'. *. in AHu i.can Magazine, A large vestry book, extending from 17J.‘» to .I, is sldl eurchill.. p e*eivi‘d, having b>M?n rcs- cl' d from -.ome <»ld country ie or F, by Mr, Young. I com this chronicle one («•> get a glim|>sj of tho j state O' society and il.s ceonornic conHtioii. I j clusia'-ticai ( uri■ lie.. a* is veil kiionn, Was to bacco j-rilH -cmee of the (*hur< h ca<h “lith able’’ was a.-s* Hsvd cv iryv' tir o.inany pounds. \V# ! find such cntrle- as the- • Pounds. To Mr. Ihulow, f‘ i nuannoiuat 350 lbs. Io lai"". -V’-d To l;cv. John R i I. salary. To ditto, for I c.-rd 1. •' 0 To ditto, for clerk 1 W . 'J o Mary Clark, sexton... 41*1 Agreed with .lames Brl .w-s to keep Eliza Mipet for one year find to find her in clouth lot 1,2 »U Uw. to inn Co. I o VS Mow Lawrence I cing pore H*. *o»mrco. J- r..m an entry before the b'-ok * - it that 1G b*)i) ll>k. of lo’u u co sold for £lOl Us. Il l The church expenses averaged about 70, f 'Cu poinuls tobacco a yc-ar, or in the neighborly’t Os kI'T. 'Hie price of t .>'a' < o varied; hut that tLira should not bean unlbnlied currency, a* ft were, the i j arNh was divided into dhtii'i- at id each year ap- I pcored such records as. Samuel Dftvls ainl William Biidgur arc appointed viewers of toba'fo from tiiHiivor of BbukwaUir. It was the bushier <•( t ')*••.• view era, or truer*, as they were (Knnelnn • < ailed to cs’lni ite and restrict • the AumGjr ot young iibmi' . that thviy might not ba ! overi.ruTietton, : vbureh !• '.ome’uTcv ff.an I tdolow