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THE MOAJNTSTGr TIMES,. SXTJPAY, MACH 14, 1897
Copyright, 1S97, by Richnid Linthicum.
TART I.
Tlie sheep were in the folds on the
mesa. The bronzed shepherds of El Itito
bad eaten their tortillas and dull eon carne,
etnoked their corn busk cigarettes, spread
tbeir Rolclions on the floors of their huts,
devoutly Mid their prayers and gone to
bleep.
The faithrul sentinels that guarded the
sheepfolds wore all sleeping, but with one
eye open and one ear cocked; no prowling
coyote might hope to enter the loofcely con
structed corral andsnatch a weak lambkin,
for the scent of the sentinels was keen,
their hearing acute, their courage above
suspicion, and their intelligence but little
lees llisn human. Man is not so univer
sally faithrul to his trust as is the bhepherd
dog.
It was a night in early spring. The
heavens were radiant with stars. The air
was sofl, and laden with the fragrance of
the sprouting s.ige. Each 6tar shone with
a brilliancy that would have rivaled that
blazing forerunner or the seven wise men
lighting the scene as fairly as would a
cre&ccuL moon in a less clear and tranquil
atmosphere. And in this glorious star
light hovered the spirits of peace nnd con
tent. Here were a people, patient in pov
erty, happy in ignorance and as pious as
were those amongst whom dwelt the Vir
gin that brought forth a Messiah.
The mud rownoi LI rtttu .lsi darkness,
save for a signle light that snone from a
window in the house of the good priest,
Padre Uamon. It w.us 1 0 o'clock, so
there was none to see the light nor remark
Pedro 1 red to ito-.se the Uncon
scioiiK Priest.
the unseemly hour kept by the spiritual
paoLor or a flock as meek and gentle'-as
the wlute herds in the sheeprolds. The
good priest was alone, he sac with bowed
head beside a table and pressed his hands
against Ms brow. Tlieie was a look of
suffering upon his handsome, clean-shaven
face; his eyes, which had ever looked
with gentleness upon ins people, were
now wide and glaring; he was as one ill
unto death. But Padre Ramon suffered
no physical ailment, he was ill mentally and
bick at heart Nature had no herb; the
alchemist no drug to calm his troubled mind
or tlop the ache nithin his breast,
Manuel Salazar (that was Padre Ramon's
name) was bom for the world; fate gave
lam to the church. He had all the physical
graces and manly accomplishments that
excite the admiration and win the love of
women. His was a strong, passionate na
ture, but the fires of his blood were held
lu eneck by the cool currents or his mind.
Twenty' j ears had passed since Manuel
Sulazar had presented himself to the pro
vincial and craved admittance to the So
ciety of Jesus: during those twenty years
Loyola lind no more devoted dii-ciple.
Mmiuei's Ucisre to be a Jesuit was not the
result of a devotional spirit, but rather
titathe i. igiit by lire service to the church
mid tin- holy ordei redeem himself from an
existence which fate had darkened and
taddened.
When a youth of eighteen he was be
trothed to Aicuria de Vargas, whose
father's large estate was adjacent to that
or Manuel's father, in Southern New Mex
ico. She was in every respect worthy to
be his bride; she had youth, beauty and
culture, and together with an only brother
two years her senior would inherit the
acres and vast herds of Don Antonio de
Vargas. Alcaraia's life had been lived
outside of towns and cities, so that her
purity had not been tarnished, nor her
(Simplicity lessened by contact with aggre
gated humanity. Her ancestry dated back
to the Conquest, and in her veins flowed
the sungre azul of Castile.
The fc'alazars had nought of which to
be ashamed; their blood, also, was blue
and their wealth great. Don Diego Sal
azar looked forward with pride to the
union that was to link his honored family
name with the ancient one of de Vargas,
while Don Antonio regarded Manuel as
the must eligible of sons-in-law. The mar
riage was never celebrated.
One evening a week previous to the
Jate set for the wedding, Manuel ac
companied by Enrique de Vargas, Al
euria's brother, rode to the town near
by to complete sonic arrangements for
the approaching festivities. They sep
arated early in the evening, making an
agreement to meet at 0 o'clock in the
plaza, where they had left their horses.
Enrique was not there at the appointed
time. He had many friends in the town,
and Manuel took it for granted that he
had been unavoidably detained by some
of them. After waiting nearly au hour,
Manuel went in search of his tardy com
panion. To all of his inquiries there was
the same answer; no one had seen Enrique
Mince early in the evening when he had
ridden into town.
Aianuel's woist fears were realized. It
was midnight when he found Enrique
In a gaming house. The youthful scion of
the house of lc Vargas had the seat of
lionor, opposite the dealer, while smaller
players' ci owded around him. There was
a scowl on Enrique's flushed face as he
placed his money on a queen, the opposing
card being a jack. The monte dealer be
gan to slowly draw the cards one by one
from the pack in his hands. Eniique called
out each card as it fell upon the table;
his voice was thick but defiant. It was
at once apparent to Manuel that Enrique
was drunk, and in an ugly mood; he had
been losing, and was exasperated almoat
to madness.
"Jack." called the dealer, showing the
card, and taking the money Enriqne had
staked.
"Show nie the queen," cried Enrique
angrily, as he arose and pushed back
several of the players on either hand.
"There was a queen in the first layout
and it won; now show me the other one."
"Does the scnor think" began the
gambler, hut Enrique cut him short.
"Never mind what 1 think, show me
the queen," said Enrique. His eyes
glittered with rage and his attitude was
menacing.
Manuel made his way to the table and
placed one hand on Enrique's shoulder,
"Eniique " he began.
'You stand aside," commanded the en
raged youth; "this is my affair' Then
turning to the gambler he almost shrieked,
"Show me that queen or I'll cut your
heart out."
A knire flashed in Enrique's right hand.
The monte dealer threw the cards upon the
floor and grabbed a revolver lying In
an open drawer. Manuel sprang between
them and caught Enrique by the wrist as
the enraged youth made a lunge at the
dealer.
j "Enrique, what are you doing? Listen to
me!" he said in au authoritative tone.
De Vargas face was black with passion.
He ex"rted his full strength and wrenched
j himself free. He struck out viciously nnd
the blow fell upon Manuel's neck. A jittle
stream of blood trickled down the in
jured man's shirt front, while from a
vein spouted a tiny crimson spray as
perfumed waters are forced from atomizers
"For the love of God, Enrique, stop; it is
I , Manuel; seize him, some one,'' he called,
as heretieated before the infuriated youth,
who seemed bereft of all reason.
In the moment of excitement the dealer
had slipped out through a side door; the
crowd fell back instead of closing in upon
Enrique; no one had either the courage to
seize him or attempt to check the assault.
As Manuel retreated he placed a chair
between himself and his pursuer, but En
rique flung it aside and advanced with
uplifted knife.
"You cheat, you thief." nis voice was
choked with rage, and he gasped rather
than uttered the words.
"Are you mad, Enrique? Don't you sec
that It is I, Manuel?" cried the wounded
man, as he sought some avenue of escape
or some means of checking Enrique's mur
derous advance. A small deal table was
near by, and Manuel placed himself on
the side of it opposite his assailant. He faw
that rage and drink combined had madden
ed Enrique beyond the powerof reason. To
attempt to disarm him without Injury to
oneor both seemed impossible, and Manuel's
onlv desire was to escape from the place
until Enrique should come to his senses.
With this purpose in view he attempted to
circle around the table, expecting Enrique
co follow him, butinsteadof doing this 1'n
rique with the supernatural strength born
of ragcleapod over the table. Manuel's only
chance to escape was gone; there was no
place for him to retreat except to a corner
of the long room.
Again he called to Enrique to stop and
there was a warning tone In his voice.
Rick in the far end of the dimly-lighted
room, where the spectators could not
plainly see what took place, they clashed.
The encounter lnsted but a moment and
this time it was Enrique who fell back.
There was a gaping wound in his neck near
the shoulder blade and his left hand
was clasped to his side, Indicating that he
had received a second wound. He clutched
at the deal table for support as he steadied
himself, Manuel passed him. Enrique's
expression had undergone a complete
change. His rage had reached its climax
in blows and reaction had set in. ne was
calmer and seemed to be dazed. He tossed
his knife backward over his head and it
fell sticking upright in the floor.
"What is the matter?" he asked. "What
have I done? Did I strike you, Manuel?"
Across Manuel's right hand, in addition
to the wound in his neck, was a streak of
red from which the blood flowed down
his fingers, mingling with that of Eniique
on the blave of his knife, and dripping
from the polnf.
The spectators nervously gathered around
them, and one undertook a brief expla
nation. "Forgive me, brother," weakly gasped
Enrique. He tried to extend bis hand, but
the effort was too great. He reeled and
would have fallen, but Manuel, dropping
his knife, caught him and let him down
gently to the floor.
At the beginning of the affray one of
the spectators ran for the sheriff. He
found that official in company of n young
physician, an American, and informed
them of what was taking place ia the
saloon.
As Manuel bent over Enrique the sheriff
and doctor entered the place.
Manuel Caught Him nnd Let
"Lo siento, bermano." tl am sorry,
brother! came feebly from the lips of En
rique, and thea he fainted.
While the doctor dressed the wounds of
the unconscious man the sheriff made in
quiries regarding the affair. All reports
agree that Manuel had but defended him
belf, and so the sheriff decided. "If Senor
de Vargas should die," he said, "Senor
Salaza will not run away."
Manuel knelt beside the doctor as the
latter dressed Enrique's wounds, and the
little stream of blood from the punctured
artery in his neck fell on the American's
hands.
"Why, man, you'll bleed to death if
that is not stopped," said the young
physician. "Stand up here and let me
fix it."
"It's only a scratch," was the reply,
"attend to him," pointing to Enrique.
But tho doctor insisted and the spray
1
of blood was checked none too soon,
for Manuel's face had become pallid and
hiB limbs were getting weak.
"Some one should notify his people,"
said the doctor, as he again gave his at
tention to the unconscious Enrique, "he
may recover and he may die."
"I will tell them," said Manuel, "nave
him taken to the hotel and I will let his
people know."
He bent over the prostrate man, and
his eyes filled with tears. Then his
emotion overcame him, and he kissed
Enrique on the cheek. "My brother,
my brother," he exclaimed in a choked
voice as he arose, "Mother of God, spare
him." He walked with uncertain step
to the door, and then summoning all his
strength, drew himself erect and stepped
out onto the street.
Some minutes after the doctor said, re
ferring to Manuel: "He seems to be weak,
and it is possible lie may not be able to
reach home. Some of you men had better
ride out and notify Dou Antonio of What
has happened."
Two Mexicans, who stood In great awe
of Don Antonio, and yet were ever ready
to serve him on account of his generosity,
volunteered at once to get their horses.
Manuel was weaker than he seemed to be.
lie had lost a great deal of blood, nnd he
fore he had leached the plaza, where he
had left his hors-e, he was obliged to sit
down rcveral times. When at least he had
reached the plaza, and while he was pre
paring to mount, two men passed him.
Tlioy were talking of the alfray in tiie
saloon. It was too dalle for Manuel to
see their faces, but he could plainly hear
what they said.
"That fellow Is going to die," said one.
"No hope for him," said the other, "he
was dying when we lelt the place. Of
course, the doctor didn't like to say so,
a
jmuammmnt
I - sees
His Voice Hose Almost to u. Sereuui,
but anyone could see that he didn't have
any hope for the young fellow. He'll be
dead berore Salazar can get to Don An
tonio's ranch."
"I wouldn't'.lkc to be in Salazar's place,"
said the first speaker, "ir old Don An
tonio don't shoot him, he'll get out his
peon and hang him."
Manuel mounted his horse aud the
restive broncho dashed off in the direction
of home. The rider could not loug stand
the rapid pace and it required all his
strength to check the speed of the wiry
little beast. At the end of two miles
Manuel had become so weak that he feared
to allow the horse to proceed faster than
a walk. At the end of the third mile he
could scarcely keep his seat in the saddle,
and for tear that he would fall from his
horse he rode several paces off the road
and dismounted beside an acequla. The
tall grass that grew on the bank made a
sort and restful couch. He soon felt that
he was strong enough to resume the
Journey; It was now but a short distance to
Don Antonio's; the conversation of the two
men in the plaza recurred to him. Enrique
was dying, perhaps, and he was loiteriug
by the wayside. He must up aud hurry
on.
A faint sound reached his ears from the
west the direction in which he was travel
ing the hoof-beats of a horse in a swift
Him Down Gently to the Floor.
gallop then came another-three four
five, until It became impossible for him to
tell the number. As they came nearer the
swift gallop quickened into a mad race.
Manuel raised his head as the horsemen
came into sight; the leader of tho party
loudly urged his steed into a break-neck
pace, and Manuel recognized the voice of
Don Antonio de Vargas. The well-nigh
exhausted man on the bank of the acequla
made an effort to hall them, but the clatter
of hoofs drowned his weak voice as the
old Don and twenty of his retainers rushed
by in the darkness. Manuel could not see
the mingled look of anguish and hatred on
the face of Don Antonio, nor could he ob
serve thatall the riders were heavily urmed.
As they dashed by him he indistinctly
heard their voices in sharp, broken sen
tences But two words clearly reached his
ears: "Enrique dead.''
The noise of hoofs quickly died away on
adH Ma
gained5
have ridden pursued by the phantoms of u
torture-racked brain.
Three years later a shepherd youth pre
sented himself to "the Provincial of the
Society of Jesus aC Santa Fe, and sought
admission to the order. He was vouched
tor by his parish priest, who told the
aged head or Hie province that of all his
acquaintance, this youth, Ramon Sauchez,
was the most devotional. Thus it was
that Manuel Salazar, fleeing from the
world, closed upon himself the door of a
sacred retreat and felt that he was safe,
not only for a time, but for eternity. In
the brothers' college none was more studious,
none more zealous that Ramon.
At the end or the long and severe eourbe
of training, the time came for Ramon to go
back to the world. He returned to it
even more willingly than he had left It; all
the enthusiasm of his nature was aroused to
do the will of God; he had lost a bride and
found a mother in the church. The wound
in his heart had healed; the badness of
his wot Idly sorrow had left him and he
looked upon life as with new eyes and
entered again into the affairs of the
world with a new and higher purpose.
Padre Ramon was assigned to tho parish
of El Rito among the class of people he
loved a community of bhepherds, in the
dregs of poverty without realization of ir,
and consequently without the pangs that
come to those who have nothing and de
sire much. And not gentler were these shep
herds of four-footed flocks than was this
shepherd of men. He drew inspiration from
thcir.simple.uncomplaiuinglivcs, and" wore
in his easy shoe the four-leaf clover of
sweet content."
Not quite a year had Padre Ramon been
at El Rito when he received a summons
from the provincial to come to Sante Fe
in haste. Padre harnessed the mules, and
together he and the padie set out. It was
night when they reached the city of Holy
Faith. It was Pedro's first introduction
into life outside of the little collection of
mud huts lie called his native plaza, and
his attention was diverted from his mules
by even such poor sights as the country
youth may see in the New Mexican capital.
A ball was in progress in a house .sev
eral streets distant from the Provincial's
residence, and as Pedro and his mules
were opposite the place the door of the
house was suddenly opened to admit a
new arrival. The mules were no more
used to urban sounds than Pedro was to
urban sights, and as the discordant strains
of violins, guiturs and horns smote their
ears than they plunged furiously to the
other side of the street, one fore-wheel
struck a large rock, 'the vehicle was upset,
and the frightened animals ran wildly
toward the center of the town. Pedro,
an agile youth, niigh'ted on his feet, and
had sufficient presence of mind to think
first of the padre. The good priest was
lying upon his back, in the middle of the
road. ' ,
"Are you hurt, padre?" anxiously in
quired the boy; hut there was no re
sponse. Pedro tried to arouse the un
conscious priest, but without success,
and fearing that the good father had beea
killed he alarmed 'the dancers at the
ball. The padre was carried to the Jesuit
hospital near by.' Beside the injury to his
head, which had rendered him uucon
scious, the priest had a dislocated .shoul
der. It would be several days before he
would be out again.
While Padre Ramon was under the in
fluence of opiates bis shoulder was put
in place, and he remained in a deep sleep
for several hours. When he awoke, a
nurse in the garb of a sister, was by his
bedside.
"The doctor said you were to drink
this when you awakened," she said,
passing him a cooling draught. "I will
send Sister Manuclla to dress the wound
on your head."
She went noiselessly from the room,
and in a few moments Sister Manuclla
entered. She carried a fresh bandage
in her hand, whlch.she placed on a table,
and then approached the bod.
"I am Sister Manuella," she said, "and
I am come to dress the wound on your
head. Does It give you much pain7"
Padre Ramon was silent. His face was
aa white as the virgin sheet on which he
the sandy roadw Manuel exerted all his
strength and gainedfhls feet. There was
an expression of horror on his face as hu
gazed after the horsemen.
'Enrique dcadlVbeexclalmcd. Forsomo
minutes he stootf completely dazed leaning
against his horse. His fiist Impulse was
to follow Don Antonio; then he thought of
Alcarla. She also knew that Enrique was
dead. He would go to her and comfort
her. No, she would not understand that
her brother alone was responsible for
the tragedy; she would blame only Manuel,
her lover, her betiotbed; in her eyes ho
would be a murderer. Emotional and pas
sionate as she was by nature, in the first
burst of mingled grief and wrath her love
for hira would perish, as tender vegetation
shrivels and dies when touched by the
hot breath of the Solano.
Such were the thoughts of Manuel as
he put forth all his btrength and mounted
ids impatient broncho, which, obedient to
the guiding pressure of the rein against
its neck aad btung by the sharp barbs of
a spur, set off at a brisk gallop not in the
direction of Don Antonio's ranch, nor yet
back to the town, but straight toward the
high mesa to t honorth. II was with the feel
ing of a fugitive hotly pursued that Manuel
urged on his horse; yet he was not riee
ing from the law to defend one's life
is not a crime; not from the wrath of
Don Antonio and the de Vargas kinsmen
hisownkinsinen were equally numerous and
powerful but from her he loved best, and
now feared most in all the world Alcaria.
He dared not look into her wet eyes and
see them flash with hatred when she beheld
him; he dared not touch her with hands
stained with her brothers blood; with
the knife strokes that defended his life
he alid slain her love and so he rode
on toward the north, as a madman might
Liay; his eyes were wide and staring;
his lips moved without giving forth a
sound.
Sister Manuella took a seat by tho bed
aide, and stretched forth her hand to
undo the bandage on his head.
"Alcuria," he gasped, "do you not know
me?"
A long indrawn breath, the trembling
of lips and hands betoketied the agitation
of the nun.
1 "Manuel, is it you?" she asked In a faiat
voice, sweeter in cadence than he had ever
heard It.
"Oh, Alcarla, my lost "
"Stop, padre; be quiet," came the in
junction in a calm voice; "you must not
excite yourself; the doctor said that ex
citement might bring on delirium."
"Do you not fear to touch me?"
"No."
"Do you not hate me?"
"I never hated anyone," was tne calm
reply. "You must be quiet while I re
move the bandage," and her trembling
fingers touched the blood-stained cloth
that bound the j-dre's head.
"You under.sta..J; you know that It was
but to defend my life. I struck him
down him I loved us a brother killed
him"
"I fear for you padre," aid the gentle
voice as Manuella unwound the bandage;
"the excitement is dangerous; be calm
Enrique lives."
With a violent motion that roughly tore
tiie bandage rrom his wound, which bled
afresh, Padre Ramon sat upright in the
bed; his voice rose almost to a scream as
he repeated the words: "Enrique lives;
Mother of God, I thank Thee.
He stretched upward his arms and fell
back upon the pillow in a swoon.
(To be concluded.)
A HIT OF HISTORY.
Germnntown, Pa., "VVan Onco tho
Cunltal of tho Country.
A pupil in the boys' grammar school, on
Lafayette street, Germautown, was asked
by his teacher this week "when the first
Congress occupied the Geraiantown Acad
emy, located on West School lane?" It was
a puzzle, of course, to the young scholar,
who was at a loss to and anything in
print verifying such an event. The facts,
however, from wMt-r. the false inipresson
has frequently obtained are as follows:
The Government or the United States was
first inaugurated in New York in 17S9, but
by ace of Congress Philadelphia was made
the capital of the nation from 1790 until
1800. In 1703 the yellow fever became
epidemic in this city, and it was in October
of that year that the governor or Pennsjl
vauia asked tiie board or tiustees to ac
commodate the House of Atsembly, and a
similar request for quarters camefrom
Congress.
At the November meeting following the
board proffered to Congress the choice of
the school buildings, but there is no minute
evidence to show that Congress accepted
the generous offer. At this time Wush
iirglon resided in Germautown, and the
town was spoken of as the government
place of the State and also of the United
States. Jefferson, then Secretary of State,
and Randolph, Attorney General, occupied
the building, some years ago torn down
to extend the site on which the national
bank now stands, at Main street and
School lane. So, with Washington,
Thomas Jcrfcrson and John Randolph re
siding In Germantown, it is not strange
that the conclusion should be formed that
Congress was In session-at the time. Al
though the Germantown academy never
had the honor of accommodating Con
gress, a few years later, in 1793, when
the yellow fever made its appearance
again In this city, the hanks of North
America and of Pennsylvania did find a
temporary place of safety in the old
academy. Philadelphia Record.
A CASE OF UI.UFF.
Tills Fatal Spirit of Obstinacy Caus
ed Two Men to He Snowed Under.
The last three miles of the road lead
ing up to the Alhnmhra mine ran through
Dead Man's Gap, which was a nanow
valley In the mountains, and at least
once every winter there was sure to be
a snow slide which buried the trail from
ten to twenty feet deep. We were going
up from Franklin City with the pack
mules, one day in January, when a Chinook
wind was melting the snow, nnd in the
nanow part of the valley we came across
two men who had camped down within
ten iodd of each other. They weic typical
men of the border piopcctors, miners and
hangers-on, but meeting them where we
did was such a surprise that the coloael
halted to say:
"You men must be more than fools to
camp down here. If there's a snow slide
you'll be buried twenty feet deep at the
first rush."
"Stranger." replied one of the men, as
he ran his eye up the mountain side, "I've
bin expectin' a snow slide every minit
since noon yisterday, but it's not fur mc
to mnke the fust move. It's a game of
bluff betwixt me and that galoot over
thar', and I won't give in to him."
"Stranger," said the other man, as he
advanced a pace or two, "I was comin'
down this pass yisterday, when I met
that old critter goln' up. I was in a hurry
to git along and so was he, but as we met
he sorter grinned at me and kinder flung
out that I was afeared. r lander flung
back that no mortal varmint on the face
of this airth could bluff me, and he got off
his hoss and camped down."
Seated in Thejr
"And you followed suit?" queried the
colonel.
"I had to or chaw my words. He's
an ole bjurfer, but he can't skeer me off."
"As to bluffin'," said the other, "Kill
Wharton, which Is me, has never bin out
bluffed by anythlu' on two legs or four,
and it's too late to begin to crawfish now.
If that old galoot kin stand a snowslide
he'll find me right alongside of him to the
bitter end."
"You both realize the danger, do you?"
asked the colonel. '
"We do," they replied, in chorus.
"There's tens of thousands of tons of
mhii&P' sir. 1
L9JT
OPPORTUNITY-
"NYLLA-VE5TIGTA-RLTR0K5YK
BY - EPITfl - VTHQrlAS
"There is a nest of thrushes in the glen;
When we come back we'll see the glad
young things,"
He said. We came not by that way agaln;
Aud Time and thrushes faro on eager
wings.
"You rose" she smiled "but no; when
we leturn
I'll pluck it then." 'Twas on a summer
day.
The ashes of the rose in Autumn's urn
Lie hidden well. We came not back
that way.
We do not.pabs the selfsame way again,
O r, passing by that way, no thing we find
snow up there ready to fall and bury this
pasal"
"Jest so," replied No. 1 , "but 1 kin sot
ycre as long us he kin.'
"And I'll see it out if It takes all winter,"
added the other.
The colonel argued and appealed, but
neither would be the first to give way.
They had gone in for, a game of bluff, and
their pride was at stake. When it was
seen that talking would do no good, we
rode on and left them, and, looking baok
at the next turn of the trail, we saw them
seated In tlieir blankets facing each other
and waiting for a sign of weakness.
A mile higher up the pack-saddle of one
of the mules turned, and the animal floun
dered about and went off thepath and down
the slope. A great mass of snow went
with him, and in a minute a 6lide was
started. Away it went, booming, spread
ing out and gathering force every second,
and while we stood looking on there was
arumbhngasof thunder.a crash that could
be heard for miles, and Dead Man's Pass
was filled from end to end with snow and
rocks and splintered trees.
"Bluffm' is all right wnen you are bluff in
agin a man," said the colonel, as we iode
on, "but when it comes to bluffin a snow
slide. Jest count me out and call me a
crawfish."
A Fight Between Gentlemen.
MILLIONS IN" PArNTTNG.
Tho Hertford-Wallace Collection Is
Worth $7,300,000.
The celebrated Hertford-Wallace col
lection of pictures bequeathed to the
British nation by Lady Wallace is esti
mated to be worth $7,300,000. Her
magnanimity, says the Boston Transcript,
is all the more noteworthy because she
was struck off the queen's visiting list
many years ago.
Sir Richard Wallace died on July 20,
1S90, leaving behind him the most fa
mous art collection of any Englishman.
The whole of Sir Richard's great wealth
and the peerless collection of pictures,
which includes nineteen examples of
Meissonier and fifteen of Greuze, were
given to his wife for her own free dis
position. Prior to his death, however, he ex
pressed his wishes to liis wife that after
her death his superb collection of works of
art should go to England's national gal
lery, and that his wish in this respect should
Hlunkets.
be carried out she arranged several years
ago.
The magnificent Hertford collection
comprised, when it passed into Sir Itichard
Wallace's hands, a splendid assortment of
paintings, porcelains, bronzes, decorative
furniture, jewelry, and other works of
art. His own purchases during the
past thirty years included many of the
choicest examples of old Japanese art,
which he was one of the first to bring to
the attention of European connoisseurs;
of the masters of the Italian -Renaissance,
notable the productions la silver of Ben
ventuno Celiul and his immediate fol
lowers, and of modern French painters.
.
m
KK
-
Asit before had been, but dearta. or stain.
Hath come uponit, or the wasteful wind-
The very earth is envious, and her anna
Reach for the beauty that detained our
eyes;
Yea, It is lost beyond the aid of charms.
If, once within our grasp, we leave the
prize!
Thou traveler to the unknown ocean's
brink.
Through Life's fair fields say not, "An
other day
Thl3 joy I'll prove;" for never, aa I
think.
Never shall we come back this selfsame
way'. EDITH M. THOMAS.
A GENTKET. AFFAIR.
How ilr. Scott Met a Stranger
Xamed Richards.
One day a stranger came Into our camp
at Yuba Bend, and after looking about for
awhile he approached a miner named Scott
and bowed aad smiled, and Inquired:
"Kin you inform me If thar' is a gen
tleman in this yere camp a reg'lar gen
tleman?" "Thar be," promptly replied Mr- Scott,
as he drew himself up-
"I'm glad to h'ar it. I'm from the camp
down at Dead Hill. They told me down,
thar that I couldn't find a gentleman up
here."
"And who be yo'r demanded Scott-
Tm a gentleman, sah a reg'lar gen
tleman, and I'm delighted to meet yo
My cognumen Is Richards. As a gentleman
you must know the meaning of the word
'cognomen. "
"In course I do," replied Scott, who had
never heard the word before in his life.
"Hev yo' any pertickler objecfc In view?"
"I hev. As a gentleman I woald hka
to hex- a little scrimmage with another
gentleman. Yo'Jiev said yo was a gen
tleman, and I'm gentleman 'nuff to taka
yo'r word fur it."
"Want a scrimmage, eh?"
"I do. an' if yo kin accommodate ma
I shall feel mighty obleeged."
Scott had had a dozen different rows ia
camp and always came off firat best, aad
the idea of a scrap with a stranger struck
him favorably. He thought the matter over
for a minute, and then said:
"I don't s"e no objeck.ibuns to a scrim
mage, beia' asyo' ar hankeria arterone.
but as a gentleman spe5kin to another
gentleman it is my dooty to ware ye that
I'm a powerful fighter."
"That's lovely of yo," smiled the stran
ger. "On my part I must warn yo' thas
1 snalflick ye outer yer butes Inside of
three minits. Gentlemen should always
hev" a far understandm in advance."
"Would it be agin the manners of a
gentlemen if I called ye a bluffer?" asked
Scott, as he began peeling off.
"Not under the sarcurastances," replied
the stranger. "I was je3t about to ob
sarve that ye was a duffer, aa' I hopa
ye'll take no offense."
"None at all, but ye ar a blamed
liar!"
"Thanks, and ye ar the samet I will
now divest myself of my apparel and pul
verize ye like n gentleman."
"I'm ready 1"
We talked about the fight for months
afterward. The two came together and
heaved and struggled for a minute, and
the stranger broke away and gave Mr.
Scott a rap on the jaw whleh sent him
to grass and put him to sleep at the sama
time. It was over In no time, and the
stranger bowed and smiled right and left
and said to the camp:
"Give the entleiuan my comnlanents
when he wakes up, and tell him that I
hope thar will be no hard feelln's. I'm
in a bit of a hurry or I'd stop and tell
him mysclr. As a gentleman I bid yo'
good day."
He was half a mile a way when Mr. Scott
opened his eyes and wanted to know what
had happened.
"Ye've bin licked," repHedone of the
boys.
-Who did it?"
"A feller as said he was a gentiemaa
andyo' was another."
"Yas, I remember, and durn his hide."
groaned the man, as he sat up and held his
jaw. "Say, now, the, next time a feller
comes along here and wants to know If
we've got a gentleman in camp ye jist
holler and let me hide among the rocks, fur
I've gone outer the bizness to stay."
America's Great Crop of Hay.
Theproductionof Anierioanhayamounted
to 65,000,000 tons in 1803, 33,000,000
tons in 1S94,-47,000,000 tons-in ISOuand
13,000,000 tons in 1896. In other words,
the production of hay has declined one
third in four years, and there has been a
considerable, though not correspondingly
large, decline In the market value of the
cropdttrlngthefouryearssucceedingl892.
Pittsburg Dispatch.
This Cat Goes HuntiDg.
There Is a cat that goes hunting at
Hoisiagton, Kan., It makes Its home in
the roundhouse, where a railroad man
placed It to get warm one day when he
found it half frozen in the street. The
men made a practice of shooting birds
for it, and now the cat will follow for a
mile or more any man who carries a gun,
nnd at sound of a shot will run for tho
bird. Indianapolis News.

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