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SUNDAY MORNING. DYING LIKE A MAN By HOWARD WILLIAMS Copyright, MOl, by A. 8. Richard non How long Bonos, the vagabond, had been a country tramp before he reach ed London could only be guessed at by the butchers and fishmongers of Apple gale market, where he took up bis headquarters. He was a man of fifty when he first hung about, and he had the appearance of being “seasoned.” No one ever asked Bones any ques tions, and he volunteered no informa tion. Koine one called him Bones the first day he appeared, and the name stuck to him. He accepted It without re mark. What is tiie odds to a vaga bond whether he is called Bones or Jones? It may seem curious that no one ever became sufficiently interested In Bones to draw him out or that some day when he longed for human sympathy he did not volunteer his story; lent, as a matter of fact, he was only one of hundreds of vagabonds slouching along tin; of London. Why should any one of higher station Care who he was or whence he came? And If he laid related his history it might have been that of scores of others and would huve brought neither sympathy nor sixpence. Bones was inoffensive. He was also passably honest, and when kicked out of the way he took it as a matter of course. He was content with the shab biest raiment and had not too hearty an appetite, so it came about that he was allowed to hung about the mar ket without complaint. His lodgings were in vacant buildings, coalyards or doorways, and the only time he got full meals and a decent bed was wheil the police pulled him in and lie was sent to the workhouse. lie Imd put In ten years in London, and there was no appreciable change in him. He was gray haired, stoop shoul dered, ragged and red nosed, hut he hud been (hat on his arrival. Nor had there been any change In his plans, lie had come to London to live out the remainder of his days, and lie was do ing It. If it ever occurred to him that some day he must land in the alms house, die and be burled ns a pauper, he said nothing about it and was not worried. One day Bones was slouching along David street, he was not begging or sightseeing or looking after coal to be put In. He was simply vagabondiz ing and letting Ills feet take his body where they would. If u policeman had made an arrest. Bones would have hud no curiosity. If the tire engines had come rattling up, he would not have halted ami become a spectator. He had witnessed dogfights, street rows, fires and arrests so often that they no lon ger held any Interest. One who saw him dragging along with his eyes on the ground would have said that nothing hut u kick from a truck horse could have aroused Idm, and yet a mere trltle did the business. Of a sudden u pet poodle pursued by a gung of hoys ran up to Bones as if to ask for protection, lie picked lit) tho dog aud carried tt along, and, though threatened by the hoodlums, he clung to the canine. After walking two blocks he came upon a carriage con taining a girl about ten years old. Tho poodle had escaped from the carriage as It was driving through Willow place, and the little one was crying piteously over her loss. Bones walked directly to the vehicle and placed the dog In her arms, and the overjoyed girl reached out for his hand and exclaimed: “Oh, you good, good man! You look ragged, hut 1 know you’re not bad. I'll give you some money, and if you’ll come and see papa I know he’ll find a place for you and help you along. My name Is Minnie, and it was so good of you, and”— But the driver shook his whip at tho vagabond and started up Ids horses. Dor the rest of that day Bones was only outwardly Bones, lie had been kindly addressed by a human being, lie had been told that someone might help him upward. His hand had been shaken in gratitude, and lie had been called a good man. There was some thing new here to hold his thoughts and turn over in his mind, and he was so preoccupied that he crept to tils bed In a coalyard without having begged the usual crust. “It must be that 1 am a humnu be ing after all. If I hadn't been, the girl wouldn't have spoken ns she did. To have someone shake hands with me, to call me a good man, to thank me for a service—l can’t make it out. But It’s come too late. I'm too old to change. Nothing could lift me up now, nothing give me hack what I have lost. There's only one thing I can do, and that's to pray God 1 may die like a man like the man 1 once was.” A week later, though Bones heard nothing of it, nil I.ondon thrilled with excitement and indignation over a case of kidnaping. A little girl, the daugh ter of a banker, had been caught up at her father's very gate iu the dusk of evening and carried off in a carriage. Bones never read the newspapers, and tt was seldom that he was In the com pany of one who did. Had lift-read or heard all about the case, hojvever, it would only have been of iiassing. Inter est -just another crime to lengthen the dally list One day he slouched along David street again. He had been driven out of his lodgings in the coalyard, and as winter was coming on he was looking for a vacant house to turn into o' nights. Between Great George and Canterbury streets he discovered a ter race of four houses which were for rent One of them cornered on an ai- Icy, and after a careful reconnoissanco Bones decided that on entrance might be effected after dark. He would have neither bed nor fire, but the poorest of the rooms would be comfortable for a vagabond. When night came, Bores was on hand. It was not the first vacant house by a hundred in which he had taken up temporary quarters, and he knew the trick of prying open cellar windows. Once In tne ceiiar, the iignt of a match showed him the way up stafi-jj, and as he reached the kitchen he iffyi surprised to find a bit of fire In the range and the remains of a meal on a shelf. Before giving the matter any thought he ate up all the food be fore him and hugged the range until he had ceased to shiver. Someone had been ahead of him. It was not a vag abond like biinseif, because there were the food and the fire, and thieves and burglars would have no call to enter empty houses. A half consumed can dle showed that the tenant bad been there for a night or two, and it was likely he had a key to one of the floors. Bones was somewhat mystified, but not frightened. With a lighted candle in his hand he set out to explore a little and decide which room to sleep in. After a look into the three or four rooms downstairs he mounted to the second story and had hardly reached the landing when he heard men’s voices from one of the bedrooms, to gether with what seemed the sobbing of a child. Out went his candle, and he got down on hands and knees and crept along to listen at the door. There were two men and a child In that room, and the child was weeping and plead ing. No one will ever know what Bones thought or planned to do, ns the door was suddenly opened by one of the men, and he was found crouching there. He did not run away. One look Into the lighted room showed him an old table, two or three chairs, a bed of blankets and on the bed the little girl of the lost dog. Ho leaped into llic room as the man started Ifrck, anil as tiie girl recognized him and cried out the two kidnapers cursed. There was half a minute when no ono moved. Then one of the men rushed lo the door and shut it, and both drew knives and advanced upon the vngabond. All her life the little girl will remember bow Ids Impassive face lighted up, tiow lie suddenly grew straight and tall, how ills eyes glis tened ns he seized one of tiie heavy chairs and began the battle. They, were a pair of burly ruffians, and they, hnd long, keen knives, but It was a fight lasting many long minutes. As they stabbed and thrust he beat them to their knees. They wounded him again and again, and he left a trail of blood as bo shifted ids position, but one of them was dying and the other bad a broken arm before the old vaga bond tottered and fell, with the bro ken chair still clutched In Ids fingers. Tho child saw it nil with bated breath and wide open eyes, and, though she did not know of Ills hope, she saw that ho died like a man—uye, like the brav est of men! *-i With ids broken bone Hand bruised body and with fear of the police In his heart the surviving ruffian made his way out of the house, and the child was left the long night with the dead. When niornigg came, she beat upon a window until attention was attracted and men broke in the door and rescued her. It was not tho police who found the kidnapers, but old Bones. It was not a public officer who had eagerly sought a battle with tho ruffians and yielded up his life after a heroic fight, but simply an old vagabond of Apple gate market. And ids eulogy and his epitaph wore tiie words of the child who saw him do battle for her: “He was old and dirty and ragged, but he was a man!” Tlie Politician an an Actor. There are multitudinous small things which, as a little man, one would sup pose must press heavily upon an emi nent politician. He must be civil to all men -eiviler perhaps lo the fools than to any. The fools he has always with him—-always. The eminent poli tician must serve ns the especial butt to a vast and wonderful array of bores. How he must despise the large major ity of Ids so called followers' With what scorn he must regard them in lvis heart! And yet how he has to go out of his way to solicit the favor of their vote and Interest! How lie has some times to palter with a lie—lie must have! How he must be all things to all men! He is an actor as much as any actor that ever trod the mimic stage, and bo he sick or sad he has to give satisfac tion to the audience in front if he would keep his situation, lie has to struggle and strive to keep in his hands the ends of fifty different strings which are being pulled In fifty different direc tions aud preserve Ills balance and bis bend amid them all. And what is the end of it? What is the reward of the eminent politician? It is when one considers this question that one is amazed to think that any man should think it worth his while to pay the penalty of political great ness.—All the Year Round. An Epitaph. On the 10th of February, 1750, died a Miss Basnett at the n>re ol tweuty three, who was buried in the church yard of old St. Pancreas and upon whose tomb the following lines were placed: 00, spotless honor anp unsully’d truth: Go, smiling: Innocence and blooming youth; Go, female sweetness joined with manly sense; Go, winning wit that never gave offense; Go, soft humanity that blessed the poor; Go, saint eyed patience from affection’s door; Go, modesty that never wore a frown; Go, virtue and receive thy heavenly crown. Not from a stranger came this heartfelt verse; The friend inscrib'd thy tomb whose tear bedew'd thy hearse. .*. THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS. ; ' F¥AY. WILL tit ii ■- - h.. a M In itetlljp TO Li•!oi\Eß3 Cr THE Best atm i iiigß td| AnD LA** the we RljJJ!?* T' •• ■ UA\y \1& A TVTV riA A DC will the United Stan collect Taxes on a1 U W IVi AIM Y VtiiAKo during the Mon-.ii <-i ‘L < ember, 1903? (Cigars bearing $3.00 per t hoc sang tax) c; 1■ o r ’OD OO £' ven * n ‘January, 1903, to the person-* whose estimates • are nearest to the number of cigars on which 53.00 tax per thousand is paid during the month of December, 1903, as shown b the total ss: . of stamps made by the United States Internal Revenue Department during L>ecer?<ber, vy.:z. istribution will be mado a.s followsi To the. ...(!) parson estimating the closest ... .. . . 55 OCO.OO in caih To the. .. 2 persons whose estimates are next closest *3,500.00 each)... ... 6.000.00 To the. .5 persons whose estimates arc next closest .(§1.000.00 each! 5 000.00 ”* To the ..10 persons whose estimates are next closest ,1503.00 ear!,) 5,000 CO To the. .83 persons whose csitraates are next closest .(8250.00 each) . . 50' QOO To the . 1.3 persons whose estimates are next closest (§IOO.OO each) 2.50(5 OO “ •To the.... 50 persons whose estimates are next closest (5:0.00 each) 2300 OO ” To the. . .100 persons whose estimates are next closest.. ($39.00 each). 2,500.00 ■< To tho. .3,000 persons whose estimates are next closest (810.00 each). . 20000.00 To the .3,000 persons whose estimates are next closest. ($9.00 each) . 1 5,000.00 To the “0,000 persous whose estimates are next closest we will send to each one box of 50 “Crcmo" Cigars (value 82.50 per box) 75 000 OO 55.2(3 ’ 33,213 persons . . $142,500.00 Every 100 bands from above named cigars will entitle you to four estimates. * (One " b’lorodora*' band rountinr as two lands (mm the 5 cent agars mentioned, and no less than ltO lands wiil be received at any one time lor estimates) Information which may be of value ia making estimates:—the number of Cigars now bearing $3.00 Tax per thousand, for which _Slamps were purchased, appears below : In December, 1900, 407,092,208 Cigars. 0 In March, 1902, 510,599,02? Cigars ” December. 1901, 470,312,170 “ ■’ April, 1902. 610,885,103 „•* *• January, 1902, 496.983,717 *• " May. 1992, 623,035,'*;7 “ February, 1903, 445,41)" !33 •• In case of a tie in estimates, the amount offered will be divided equally among those entitled to !:. DP' •• of the aware: will be made as soon after January Ist, 1903 as the figures are obtainable from the Internal Revenue Denar:men', of die l . *:i -, for (>•. . vj.i - Write your full name and Post Office Address pln il,- on packages containing bauds. The Pi su x. or .-. ,t res* char -e ou V<> :r ackafe must be fully prepaid, in order for your estimate to panicir.ita. All estimates under this offer ir.nst be forwarded before December Ist, 1062, to the . . FLORODOftA TAG COMPANY, Jersey City, N. J. You do not lose the value of your bands. Receipts will be sent you for your bands, and'‘these receipts will be just a s’ good a3 the bands themselves ia securing Presents. One band from “Ii .rodora,” or two bands from auv of the other Cigars mentioned above, will count in securing Presents the same as one tag from *• Star,” “ Horse Shoe,” ** Spear Head,” “ Standard Navy,” “Old Peach and Honey," “J. T.” “Master Workman,” “Piper Heidsieck," “Jolly Tar,” “Boot Jack,” “054 Honesty,” “Razor,” or “Planet” Tobacco; or one “Sweet Caporal” Cigarette Box Front. ® Sw.4 acl estimate on a separate piece of paper, with your name end address plainly written mi each. Stank terms for estimate* wlii be matted upon anrlxatteng Illustrated Catalogue of Presents for 1903 and 1904 will be ready for distribution about•'October Ist*l2o2. and will be loaded on A of ten cents, or ten tobacco tags, or tweuty cigar bands, r SEPTEMBER 21,