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VOL 32. YOEKYYLLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1886. JSTO. 35. ? ml ftotg. THE BANK OF CALIFORNIA ^BY PRENTICE MULFORD. foorrmahnd bt the author. au. bights axserved. ] CHAPTER XL LIFE. I had now a dead man on my hands and didn't know what to do with him. Pratt bore on me mentally with as great a weight, dead, as he had while living. He would be soon missed and sought for by bis partner. Hillyear would find his prospect holes. This would bring the search in the neighborhood of the claim. If I told my story of the manner in which he met his death, I should be hardly credited. Then it would lead indirectly to the discovery of the "Bank." In whatever way I looked l saw perpiexiiy. But something must be done. The day was waning. 1 covered the body with brush and returned home. Nearing it, I saw Hillyear standing at his ^. -- cabin door, cooking supper. They built their fire outside for sake of comfort. A frying pan was propped up so as to receive the heat from a bed of glowing coals, and in it was their evening's baking of bread. He was looking from time to time up the river with that air of expectancy which accompanies the act of waiting for some one who has overstayed the usual time. As I drew near he hailed me. -'' "Seen anything of Pratt?" What was I to say? I had seen the last of him. I felt already like a murderer, because, circumstantially, I was in the position of one. People talk as Jf a "clear conscience" was equal to any situation. I did not find it so. "I saw him about three hours ago going up the river," was my reply. "Where was he?" asked Hillyear. Great heavens! I thought, how much of this game of evasion am 1 to play from this out I said: "He passed the cabin about nine this. morning, and went into the chapparal about yonder," and I pointed to the spot where I had seen Pratt disappear at the hour 1 named. Hillyear resumed his cookIpg. I went into my cabin and took a big draught of. whisky. Broener always had on ' hand a demijohn of the best There are times when one's system is not equal to the making of strength from ordinary food. I hold alcohol as a food?an artificial one, and an unhealthy one for steady use. After supper I trudged down to the store, for 1 wanted other than my own thoughts that evening for company. The Bull Bar nucleus for goods and gossip was full as usual of miners, raising a dense fog of tobacco smoke, whose flavor was more than dnfh"^ with emanations from codfish, oukms ana whisky. Mr. Rankin had received that day a new supply of provisions from Stockton, and was scolding his partner, who acted s as buyer and teamster combined, for the , poor quality of some cigars he had brought up. "If you buy any more cigars like them," said he, "I want you to hire and bring up < some men to smoke them. These poor creafarte about here haven't lungs strong enough to draw on 'em. They want all their strength to draw rocks out of the bed of the river, and it's for my interest to see that it's saved for that purpose, at the rate I'm chalking up flour, boots and whisky against them." "Got any better cigars than the last lotf" asked a miner, who, just coming in, had not heard Rankin's last remark. "Yes," replied Rankin. "Splendid lot? Havanas?only it wants a bull team to draw ona Try one. You'll And it'll last you a month. Just the quality to suit your case. You smoke too much. These cigars are got up express to cure people of smoking. One'll last an ordinary man a whole year. Ask Mike, my partner. He had 'em made to order." Rankin's gabble was a relief. Big Dick * came in, and forgetting past admonitions, hoisted his huge proportions on the limited area of counter uncovered by goods, and immediately got off again with a quickness that suggested some uncomfortable sensation. "Glad it works," said Rankin. "Nothin' but a needle stuck through the wood. Some folkses heads are too thick to take a hint. Then we try some other part. 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again,'" chimed Rankin, and then added: " 'Needles and pins, Needles and pins, When you get married your.tronble begins.'" Presently Hillyear entered. A cloud seemed to come with him. To me it was as if the vindictive spirit of the dead man kept him company. He looked about anxiously, as if with the hope that Pratt might be present I knew the meaning of that look. Hillvear was a. slow-movinsr man. aDDa rently a follower of Pratt and led by him. Without his partner he seemed lost "Has anybody seen Pratt to-day? He hasn't come back," after a time he asked, in his heavy, drawling way (a sentence with him seemed always a matter of previous deep and labored study, and when asked the simplest question the time that elapsed before he replied was exasperating to an eager inquirer). "Why, I saw him piking along Scrub mountain to-day," said one of the crowd. "What's he gunnin' after up there, anyhow?" "Holder, didn't I see you crawlin' among the bushes up there toiay?" said one Bill Sefter. "That red shirt you've got on looks like the one I saw." Fool that I was! I had not thought of wearing a garb which would show so conspicuously against the dark bottle green of the chapparal "Yes, I took a stroll that way," I said. I felt forced into such reply. He continued: "What did yer find to shoot up there? Rattlesnakes or jackuss rabbits? I heard a shot" That was Pratt's pistol Sights and sounds seemed drawing their meshes about me. Hillyear was looking at me in his stolid fashion as if some faiut glimmer of an idea were creeping into his brain. "I shot nothing," was my reply. The talk then drifted toward mysterious murders and robberies?then common in that country?and cases were mentioned which had fiually been traced to men?neighbors of the slain?whose lives had previously shown no such inclination. Rankin's humor inclined him ever to give an individual the very characteristic which he most lacked. Slow men he spoke of a3 marvels of dispatch, taciturn men as disturbing all about by the clatter of their tongues. I, with my shy, quiet, reticent manner, evidently ranked with him as a most peaceable character. It seemed to me then as if some fiend prompted him to the remark: "Shouldn't wonder if Holder had waylaid and murdered Pratt Put another man in his private graveyard." "Yes," added another second fiddle humorist. "That's what he knocks off work so early for in the morning." "And the last man's Hood is on his pants now!" added a third. I had worn a pair of white duck working trousers and a spot of the blood from Pratt's body had smeared them near the feet?1 aad not noticed it before. This remark called to mo tho attention of all in the dingy store. Their eyes seemed to burn through me. I felt as if in the dock tried, convicted, sentenced. I left soon afterward. Hillyear's route home was mine. We were obliged to walk near each other on the narrow, rocky trail, wide enough for a single traveler. With all the dark suspicion which I feared existed in his mind concerning me I felt sorry for him. I felt wheu about him that his was one of those natures, born to follow?that Pratt had picked him up as he would a stray dog lookiug for a master, and that with the instinct of the animal he had become attached to Pratt and was grieving for him. I tried in vain that night to sleep. So soon as my body was at rest, and my brain became more active than ever, its picturings vibrating from Pratt's body to the store, and from the scenes of that day to the possible ones of to-morrow. Something must be done with that body. Where it was it must not remain. You know how in our minds come floating memories?recent or remote, important or trivial, and of no apparent relation to the main subject of thought. So in my mental ? vision that night came the black buzzard I had seen in the sky the day before tho scene of the tragedy, and his bit of black shadow floating on the ground by me. That_bU2zard! That buzzard and his ?001k : panions would to-morrow sliow to the "searchers surely where the body lay! No animal ir that country may die on highway or byway, on plain, gulch or mountain, and though ii be ever so thickly screened by' bushes, though not one of these scavengers be visible, yet within a few hours trooping they come, led by some wondrous faculty of scent 01 vision to the carcass, their feast That body, I must remove, and this very night. I jumped up, dresssed myself in th< darkness, and in a few minutes was stumbling up the mountain side. An "old moon" gav< me its fading yellowish light Much of th< trail, both up and down, lay in almost total darkness. Where the pines grew thickly some times I lost my way entirely. I groped and stumbled over bush and rock. In two hour! I was again on the spot It was my intent to drag the body dowi the mountain side and throw it in the river, Whether it was round rar or near, ic wouia, I thought, lessen and break the web of cir cumstantial evidence I saw weaving aboul me. It would put Pratt off the ground ] must frequent The fragment of moon remaining was jusl above the dark outline of the hills on the other side of the river. In ten minutes 1 should be left in. total darkness. I commenced removing the brush from Pratt's body. I took it first from the legs and ti-unk. The face I didn't want tc see if possible. I worked the slower ai I approached the head. The moon sunk , entirely behind the dark ridge opposite I removed the brush from the bead. I had Beached the last branch covering it I at tempted to remove that Something seemed to hold it with feeble resistance. I stooped lower, shivering. The branch was clutched in Pratt's right hand. Yet the body lay in corpse-like rigidity. It did not seem, as I then saw it, the act of a live man. It seemed a dead body holding on with a dead life. Almost desperate with horror, I tugged at the branch. Then I heard Pratt's voice saying faintly: "It's not your mountain!" CHAPTER XIL SUSPICION. Bending over Pratt I put to him the usual Idiotic question under such circumstances: "Pratt! are you aliver " Pratt, are you alive.11 The words came from him in a feeble, whining tone: "No, no! not that way. The lead's higher up?mighty rich, too!" I managed to get him off the shelf. Further I could not. 'The only accessible route home wound in places about projections of the mountain several hundred feet perpendicular above the foaming river, where a sound man needed all his strength and nerve to keep a sure footing. "Them mint fellows are sharp. Jack Hillyear. mind you bake your next batch of bread clean through. Run a straw through ?dough sticks if 'tain't done; don't put pork in till beans be boiled so you can squash 'em?else, hard as rocks." So he rambled on. His words concerning the mint people suggested to me Broener's remark as to their curiosity regarding his quartz assays and their whereabouts. Pratt was evidently delirious. I thought to utilize this wit wandering and said: "Did the mint people send you up hereT "Put fresh salt on a bird's tail, an' you'll catch a weasel asleep," was his reply. Then his mind seemed to leap into the old channel. "It's rich?mighty rich?and they can't hold it all." The thing to be done was to get Pratt to his cabin. Evidently his brain was affected by the wound. I left him and hurried to Hillyear. Their cabin was built as thousands were in those days?an envelope of cotton drilling about a light wooden frame. There was no wooden door to knock against, or any other method to rouse the inmates save by calling. Call I did, but Hillyear seemed sleeping the sleep of the just At last, out of patience, I pitched a rock into the frail structure. It tore through the cloth. Hillyear's reply was a shot, which was not to be wondered at. "For heaven's sake, Hillyear, don't lire! It's ma I've found Pratt. He's hurt badly," I criod. "Who's me?" asked Hillyear, after one of his periods of silence. I heard him cocking his pistoL "It's I? Holder. Come and help me get Pratt down off the mountain. He's lying there with a gash in his head." Mr. Hillyear now relapsed into silence. I knew not whether he was trying to frame an idea into a sentence or peering out to get an aim at me. "Aint you coming ?" I cried at last "Are you going to help me get Pratt down. He'll die before we get to him." "How?did?you?come ? to ?find?him f came at length from Mr. Hillyear's lip;, with a sort of clownish judicial gravity. "Good heavens!" I said. "Will you stay there all night and ask questions, while your partner is bleeding to death? Do you suppose I'd get out of my bed to stand and call ere like a fool for nothing?" "What's the muss?" cried a voice in the darkness. It was Bill Sefter, who lived about an eighth of a mile distant He had come, roused by the shot and the sound of voices. "I've found Pratt badly hurt on Scrub mountain, and am trying to get Hillyear to help me down with him. Hillyear won't believe me, and that's what's the matter." "Hillyear, get up! Don't be a fool," said Sefter. Hillyear finally replied: "All?right! I'm ?comin'!" with an expression as if he had had no doubts as to the genuineness of the news, and had but momentarily heard of it Our party reached Pratt, where I had left him. With great difficulty we managed to carry him down the mountain. His utterances on the way down all bore vaguely on quartz hunting and the last scene of which he had been conscious while in his right fni'rul To Softer tliAV wpw n niizzln To Hillyear, I knew not how much or how little meaning they conveyed. To myself they were a source of great uneasiness. They bore first on the secret of our claim. Next, they might confirm a suspicion, which, if not already developed, I knew was likely to be, through the singular circumstances attending my finding Pratt so far up Scrub mountain in the dead of night. It needed but a word of his delirious utterance to make known that we had quarreled. We left Pratt in his cabin. Sefter, whose curiosity was evidently much aroused, said tc me, just what I expected he would: "How did you come u> find Pratt away up theref I told Sefter that I heard Pratt's voice ir the night up the mountain, which was true, but not iu the sense I left Sefter to infer. I held that evasion was justifiable under the circumstances. It's not so much what we a-11 J- ... ~ 4.1.,. 4 4? leu luut may uauuige us us me cousiruci/ior placed OQ it by those it may be told to. The only way I know of when certain questions are asked that many people will ask, to avoid evasion or untruthfulness, is to say "it's none of your business." That, as society is now constituted and complicated, would 1 e quit* impossible. "I wonder who shot hiinf continued Sefter. "Shot himself, maybe." I replied. "Queer business, anyway," was Sefter'i final remark, as he trudged of! home. I saw by his manner that he was full 01 curiosity, and being full of curiosity wouli be soon full of theories as to thj caase oi Pratt's hurt, and that as curiosity anc theories are contagious, he would iu a short time inoculate all Bull Bar with them. Next day I visited Pratt. His head hac been hurt both by the ball and the fall. Th< bullet had gashed the temple?not very deeply The concussion from the fall seemed to havi most affected liim. That oue or other o i these wounds had affected his brain was ver , evident without the pompous declaration o ; the physician, who had been summoned, t , that effect i Sefter was present when I entered. Prat , was lying on his bed silent, but the sight o me seemed to excite his brain to action, am set in motion the thoughts, scenes and emc ' tions common to the occurrence at the'claim > They ran dangerously near, but did not ac tually reveal me as a participator. > "No tools! no notices!" he cried. "Prett; > way to hold a claim." 1 "What claim, Pratt?" said Sefter. The sick man's eye fell on Sefter with i 1 gleam of cunning. "No claim," he said ' "We're after rattlesnake oiL Hunting snake in the chapparal. There's one now?on thi i load. If yer not off while I count ten, I'l put a bail through ye. One?two?three , oli!" and he shrieked as if with pain. Hillyear spoke: i "He?must?be kept?quiet. It?is the?doc [ ter's?orders. The?doctor?says?his?sar ?brullum?is?something?or?other." ! "Queer business?queer business!" was Sef > ter's remark, as we left the house together [ "I think he's had a shootin' scrape with some body." i Broener returned. I felt that I could nov t shift a part of the business to other shoul i ders. i He heard my story. At its conclusioi : he settled back and laughed. "Regular dime novel, isn't it?" said he I "Write it, print it, sell it. Well, young man vou're improving rapidly. I congratulat you. I couldn't have wished you any thin] better than the experience you've gon through. You needed it. You're the kin< i that must be put in very hot water to drav anything out of you." 1 "But won't this put all Bull Bar on th cent of the 'Bank'I asked, i "First, let's compound some whisky witl sugar, lemons and nutmeg. Before we tall business let's fix things so as to make busi neas a pleasure, not by pouring the stul down raw as the fools do at the store yonder but dress up the fluid decently and taste fully before we put it down. There woul< be far less drunkards if every man was com pelled by law to dress up and trim up hi drinks in this way before he swallowe* them." He continued as he sipped his punch "Make yourself easy. Holder, about th claim. You have fixed that all right, or thi Fates have for you. Pratt won't go U] there for a while, now that his wits ar knocked out of his head, which for our pur ?lr?A/ilrin? fKom Allt. n JAWC ? UVlbCI lai luau JUIUUAIU^ wuvu? V his body. Because I'm fool enough to be lieve that if his wits were out of his bod] they'd bo in much better shape t< come back and reveal our secre than as they now are chained to i cracked skull, and therefore in bad work ing order. Hillyear, from what you say, is I judge, only an appendage of Pratt's, ant not able to do anything without him. At al events, I'll figd out soon. As for the 'Bank, I think I've got the cream out of it already It's only a feeder to some bigger vein in th< mountain. That can lay for awhile. I'vt got four or five caches of quartz up then that I haven't shown you. We'll get it al down this week and hush up things for th< present There's, I think, your fair share ol divvy, so far as we've gone," and he put it my hands a mint certificate of deposit foi $14,000. "If the rock that's mined out give* down as I think it will, you'll have as mucl more coming to you. Are you satisfied f Satisfied! Less than a year from home anc the possessor of what in Eastport was deemed a "small fortune." In the well-worn phrase I wanted to "pour forth my thanks." I said: "I wish I could fitly express my feeling and gratitude to you." i "I'm glad you can't," said Broener, interrupting me. "It's a good thing for you that you can't. I hate effusiveness. You may in part thank your reticence and undemonstrativeness for what you call youi luck. I don't want any gushers about ma Besides, you've earned what you got?every cent of it. Fate put you and mo together, and with that put it iu your way. There's no thanks nor gratitude in the hiatter. 1 hate people always overwhelmed with gratitude. They're tho sort who, if ever they do you what's called a favor, never forget it, anil, in effect, want to be paid for it forever afterward. Let's change the subject. There's a traveling theatre company at Chinese Camp to-night Let's go and see tho show. You need a change from the ghastly buzzard spying and body hunting business. Gel Rankin's horse, I'll take mine, and we'l] gallop over there." On applying, Mr. Rankin said he would gladly hire me his horse. The animal, he added, was vicious, shied at his own shadow, "bucked" frequently and had been the deatl of two men. As we were leaving ho called out to Broener: "The coroner liv?s at one end of the camp and is lighteniu' on an in quest when sober. The undertaker lives al tbeotner. you a oetter uuce me ciorn 101 the youug mail's shroud along with you. They know that horse up thero and always put an extra ten cents a yard on white liner when they see him comin'." It seemed another world in that land wher riding by night. The sun's hot glare wai gone. The air after nightfall was always cool and refreshing, for it came off the snow banks on the Sierra summits. Our horse were full of life and apparently as glad t< make the trip as ourselves. The life of th< horse seems to add life to the rider, provid ing he is a "horseman." Distance at nighl seems unnoticed. It is more like a dream One travels forward without so much of thai mental straining to reach one point aftei another as do so often our unhappily cousti tuted hurrying minds in the day time. So galloped Broener and I, regarding thosi myriad shining wonders of all ages?tk< stars. . "Lot's of 'ein, aren't there?" said he. "The stars? Yes." "Small potatoes we are under them Smaller than ants in comparison, and moviuj about on this planet for these shining atom we call gold. I wonder, now, of what im portance poor Pratt, if he had his senses would consider that biggest star alongside o a pan full of dust. Pratt would trade Veuu for a quartz claim." "Stars, speculation, immortality, etc.," sail Broener, as we rode on. "The three seem t> , go together; or, at all events, stars alway , start one on those topics. I wonder what w are, anyway?who we are, where we cam from, and all the rest. I am a certain amoun of life and intelligence in a body. Body' only a garment, a wrap, a machine. Hit i a part of the body hard enough, just on blow, and in ono second life's all gone, am ( with it the 'gumption' I've been storing u] for years. Hit it not quite as hard, like th crack poor Pratt gave himself, and the intel ligence stays out goes to ninuers?ail uuriy burly. Problem: when you bore a hole witl a bullet through a man's head, does all hi intellect go out through that hole, and, if so j. where does it go to.' and might there not b some way of putting a bucket or basin uude such a man's head wheu he's dying, anc collecting his iutelligence, his quien sab for one's own use, just as they ta] trees for maple sugar? Well, one thing' certain; we're here, anyway, and I pu it up that the best plan is to get all tb< fun we can out of it?body, soul, mind, spirit and any other little addition the theologians philosophers and metaphysiciuns can tack 01 us." We rode into the "camp." In the languagi of the time, it was "bilin'." The theatri company had brought iu mind's from far am near. It was a single straight street. Froir every door and window ou either side pouret a flood of light, for avery house on the street of wood or cloth, was either rtore, sa loon, gambling tent or some place of pnbli< resort. Sidewalk, street and houses wer< alike full of men. The "fandango" wa already in full blast. Here, alone, wen seen women?dark-skinned seuoritus in whit* dresses, some having their wuists c-ncirclec by broad bands of pure gold. Riders wen 1 momentarily coming in, some urging then ) dorses at a oreaKnecK pace iwuugu m# sum. r The air was filled with a medley of sounds? ) music, shouts, laughter, the hum of severa hundred voices gathered in so small an area I the clink of glasses and an occasional yel from some miner giving vent in this way t< the emotions within him developed by whisky i "Come," said Broener. "Let's take a loot at the fandango. Everybody goes then C either to dance or look on. It's not the lov 1 dance house of an old city. You will fine I there the leading merchants of the place 1 the Iwnkor, the lawyer, the judge, and al t the other present pillars of society, in thi new world of adventurers. Society here 1 you see, is in a state of effervescence, anc 3 everybody's at the top. Hence there's nov no bottom. Nor are thase Mexican and Chil 3 eoneau girls like the 'abandoned' of oui / .. nwjfc&AkSsS f I American or English cities. They don't get y ! drunk, won't pick your pocket, and ( j though morality sits lightly on them, still 3 | they have a certain respect for themselves j which keeps them out of gutters." I I We went in. Broener was soon whirling f ' one of these tawny beauties about in a waltz, i ; I followed his exampla The dance over, we '! i I followed hia example. "treated" our partners at the bar, as cusL tomary, to harmless soda, tho only beverage > they took, made a pretence of drinking our0 selves and left for the theatre. 5 As we were entering the theatre Broener 0 said: "You must go home alone to-night I * shall not return till some time to-morrow." v 0 CHAPTER XIIL SURPRISE. ^ The play was "Othello." It was a farce k relative to properties and mounting. Two * wings of the signboard style of art had to * serve all the scenic demands of the piece. '? The "dreadful bell" was the tocsin of the ' Placer hotel, borrowed for the occasion, and 1 its tones being recognized by some of the - boarders drew from them the cry, "Time 3 for Bang's hash." The jealous Moor was I commented on as the "nigger," and during the entire performance was made a target 0 from the demonstrative portion of the 0 audience for a running fire of combined ? criticism and admonition, not friendly in its 0 character, and evidently based on the sectional prejudices of those who, coming from t the south, looked with no favor on a "nigger" - for daring to aspire to the hand of a white f maiden. Their ethnological research had ' never discriminated between Moor and 0 Ethiopian, lago was tne iavoriie cu mo * house, more and more as the drama ad vanced, and as he, playing on the Moor's emotions, made him more and more miser1 able, one enthusiastic commentator bawled 1 out as encouragement: "That's right 1 sock ' it to him!" I occupied with Broener one of the two 3 dingy recesses on either side of the stage, dig3 nified by the name of "boxes," and held at 3 $20 each for the night His keen apprecia1 tion of the part continually played by the ? audience, his hearty relish of the total failure f to impress them with aught of the seriousi ness of the play, and bus instant detection of r every ludicrous point brought about by the 3 misfit of the drama relative to the time, temi per and character of nine-tenths of the lookers on, made his society to me equivalent to a I fine comedy played simultaneously with the I piece set before us. , In reality many of these rough fellows were critics, in their way, of no mean order, r though themselves entirely unaware of it I think that their years of isolation from the conventional life of the older settled localii ties from which they originally came, and i the lack of shanfand pretence in the life they now led, had quickened their mincls to dis' criminate between what was natural and what was artificial?what was acted with ' real emotion and what was merely stilted , declamation, as much of tho piece before us i was on the part of tho principal character. So, when Iago's wifo, who, it will be remem bered, is but little proiqinont iu the first action of this drama, stigmatized her scheming > husband and wished for a whip to scourgo such scoundrels through the world, the house > "rose to her." i I had ceased to pay much attention to the play, being more interested in the motley and tumultuous audience. But the voice of this ; actress seemed strangely familiar.. 1 I regarded her closely, and my thought said: That girl is wonderfully like Blanche i Sefton. i ' j That girl is like Blanche Sefton. i Impossible! I looked, after that, but at that oue figure. The pose and bearing were those of Blanche. In standing, Blanche's attitude always gave oue the impression that . she alone owned the ground she then stood ; over. In speaking, or when spoken to, she s seemed to tuni her whole mind in the direc tion of the subject of the moment, and never , seemed in mind to stray or waver from that f subject. 3 So did this actress. But the make-up puzzled me. IJair, eyebrows, complexion were 1 different. The voice was pitched in a higher s key than ever I had heard from Blanche. 3 Once let the doubt beset you as to the a identity of any person long unseen, or seen a suddenly under unexpected circumstances, t and generally that doubt remains until dis3 pelled by certain recognition and indentificaa tion. So did mine then as to the identity of e the person before me. j "That gal means bizness," I heard one man p whisper to another "? i her in a tight a place, and she'd shoot." I noticed that Broener was regarding her . as attentively a< I. Ho heard the remark a mentioned above and smiled, saying: 3 "Rough diamonds. One as a character i, reader in the house, and one?a brilliant on a the stage." r I looked for her name in the cast on the 1 roughly printed programme. It read: a "Miss H. Brown." [j The stage was not more than twenty feet a in width. Once she stood so near the box I t could have reached forth and touched her. s Height, contour, bearing?all resembled , those of Blanche Sefton. But as to the face, , that was so "made up" as to leave me in j doubt. Once her eyes ranged across the box where 1 sat. They were Blanche Sefton's a eyes, but there was no recognition in their a expression. Physically they looked a4" me? 1 otherwise they seemed no more to s-.-e me i | than would those of a wax figure. 1 The play was over. The curtain fell. The t audience struggled in a congested state ior exit from the one narrow frout entrance. ; Broencr turned in the opjiosite direction to$ ward a door leading to the stage, saying: "I 5 have an old friend in the company and am 5 going behind the scenes. Good night." 3 He had gone. I would go to the stage ! 1 door in the rear, and in some way solve my 3 doubts. But I was impeded by the crowd. - A wretched fracas, between two armed inebriates, had developed directly in front of - the "ojiora house," and the lingering mass, I nothing loth to see blood shed, cluttered up t the passageway and sidewalk. I Freeing myself from them at last I sought > the stage door. A high board fence ran , from the middle of the rear of the theatre, [ which in reality was but the wing of another 3 house. I got on the wrong side of the fence, r ran back and was obliged to pass out again 1 in frout of the theatre. At last I stood by the door I sought. Two ladies and their I escort passed out. She certainly was not s of them. The third and last, closely veiled, , finally came, and accompanying her was 1 Broener! r Of course, my friend, you wonld have stayed - in camp that night, and found out "somef how" whether the girl was Blanche Sefton or not I didn't. Had I not seen the lady with Broener I might have so done. But his presence put such a complexion on the matter, that of the two situations I preferred to be in doubt as to Blanche's identity to finding her thus with Broener, whom of course I pictured as the ' 'dangerous rival," as certainly he was in almost any case. Besides there were imperative interests at Scrub mountain to lie looked after immediately. Broener expected me to get the quartz out of the caches down to the cabin as soon ns j o sible. He had given mo di xi i a..j au:? reCUUUH uuw iu nuu IUCXJ1, auu urc*piuu uia repulsion of everything from me of gratitude, I felt under too much obligation to him to neglect anything bearing on his interests. But the stars on the now long sixteen-mile ride homeward had lost their sublimity for me. My 1 rnin was in a ferment of conjecture. AVns it Blanche Sefton? and if so,why was Broener with her? He had gone behind the scenes to >eo an "old friend." Blanche was a mysterious girl. She had passed much of her time away from home and in New York, having frequent access thereunto by her fathers sloop. She had a way of coming and going and locating herself about where sHe. pleased with that matter-of-course, authoritative air which half stifled gossip and enabled her to do what other girls dared not and could not. People said, "Oh, it's Blanche's way." Certainly it was, and whom might she have met and known, unknown to all Eastport, in these "ways"? italf-past three o'clock and the morning had dawned as I drew rein on the hill and looked down on Bull Bar, half a mile below me. The river, shmnk by the summer drought, ran a mere thread with faint murmur over rock and riffle. Log cabin ind tent, lay there silent in the cool shadow of early dawn. One mountain top, full thirty miles away, had caught the sun's heralding ray for the day. But down there, rocker and long torn, pick and pan, crowbar and shovel were flung where last the weary workers left them, and the Ave hundred stalwart men, soon to renew theii battle with hill, bank and stream, were still in the unconsciousness of slumber ?alive, breathing, it is true, but dead to the world their bodies were in?dead to all hope or fear or any of the varied emotions which would so soon be in full play when the smoke commenced circling from those rude chimneys. Two or three moving figures were seen on the river I ank?watchers of the night? guarding against any sudden rise ot the stream liable through the breaking of dams above and letting down the vast body of "backwater,' a fluid avalanche which would sweep before it like chaff mau's frail constructions. I roused Mr. Rankin and returned him his horse, which he put in the stable with the remark that "yesterday was probably his benevolent day, which would account for my return alive. But the next man dies," he added. Broener returned late in the day. What a different man was he to me from yesterday. Despite the uncertainty regarding Blanche, I sympathized now with the Moor's ruling passion. Jealous? Yes, and jealous of Broener. All of him that had previously attracted me were now as so many weapons turned against me?brilliant weapons, too, and used by a skilled hand. He noticed the change in me?I cannot say in my manner. I had rather state it that he felt a change?something between us?coming through those fine interior senses which feel, and sense thoughts, as the outer ones do material things. "You seem out of sorts," he said. I laid it to a headache?that convenient beast of burden, which bears so many lies! "Young man," said he that evening, "were you ever in love?" "I suppose so," I replied. "They say its part of the programme along with whoopiug cough and the measles." "Well," he rejoined, "I believe I am, so far as I am capable of being. At all events, I've found n womau who I thiuk can hold me." "May I ask who she is?" "Oh, yes. It is the girl you saw last night playing the wife to Iago." Silently we puffed our cigars simultaneously for a few seconds. A cigar is a great relief to a "throbbing heart" I was never conscious of much action of such character on the part of that organ, and use the phrase -as covering a good deal of ground applicable to these peculiar situations. I said: "Will you thiuk I'm inquisitive if I inquiro i? i 1 1 1 'ili IX you uuve kiiuvm iier iuu^i "Not at all. I made her acquaintance a few years ago in a New York boarding-house kept by hi r aunt, whom she was visiting. I met her. strangely enough, on my recent trip to San Francisco. She had jost come out by the Isthmus with the company you saw. ] recognized her on the stage in San Francisco." "Is B own her real name?" "No." I dared not. ask the name. Broener resumed after a pause: "That girl puzzles me. I can't make her out. Probably if I could I should not be so much attracted to her. I find that mine is a' nature always dc .landing to fathom?see through?women, and ceasing to worship them when seen through." I felt then a gleam of comfort. If it was Blanche Sefton, I more than hoped that Broener had no shallow depth to fathom. Yet I still feared him. - He was to me deep, diabolically deep, and powerful, too. "Perhaps you've met your match at last," I ventured to say. "Well, I hope I have. I need?a match. Excuse me," ho added; "I detest puns and punsters. This was an accident. She's a strong character?self-poised, self-reliant, impassioned on the outside with boiling depths below, which no one has ever yet brought to the surface?at least, I judge so. She's miles beyond the people she's traveling with. They see and know of her only as much as she chooses to show?a tenth, jierhaps only a twentieth?only what they're able to see and appreciate, or what she allows them to see. Good judgment, that. No use in showing any more cards than you want to use?in any game." . "Do you call her's a game, too?" I asked. "As I look on life and people?yes. Y6t possibly with her, thus far. an unconscious one as to motive. What some call nobility of character, is so well expressed with her that I am content to admire it without too deeply analyzing it" "You fear, then, you might find the base metal Underneath the gilding?" "My boy, I don't care to put myself on that trqin of thought. If I pursue an illusion; I waut it ever to remain one." I forbore from asking if he knew her real name. Broener's indefinable manner said to me, plnin as words, "Hands off!" "I shall go to Marysville next week," he said after a pause. "The company play there on the 30th." "Well," I thought to myself, as I crept into my blaukets, "Marysville, love and mystery on one side. Pratt, hatred and more mystery for Bull Bar on the other. I seem to be a fulcrum for events to teeter on." CHAPTER XIV. DEFENSE. During the next few days we were busy getting quartz down from the "Bank." Broener called daily to see Pratt, who continued in the same condition of imbecility and physically seemed neither better nor worse. Broener seemed also to have made a favorable impression on Hillyear. I noticed them lingering about the door holding those lengthy eve-of-parting conversations always betokening that two people have found some topic of common interest and a consequent bond of sympathy between them. Only, in this cnse, I knew or rather felt that the bond was manufactured by Broener for the occasion and concluded it was for the purpose of winning the dog-like allegiance of Hillyear from Pratt and transferring it to himself, thereby making more secure whatever of Pratt's secrets or inferences concerning the "Bank" Hillyear might possess. Meantime a steady estrangement was growing between myself and Broener. It came of my thought, suspense, uncertainty and iealousv reerardincr Blanche Sefton?or rath er the presumed Blanche Sefton. It was gradual in growth, like the coolness of the early autumn certain to terminate in the iciness of winter, a winter which must ever come between two people when one or both fear loss at the hands of the other. Of this, the cause lay with me. I was a brooder of the worst type. I would live over and over in mind all that imagination, stirred up to redoubled action by jealousy, created for me regarding the matter. I began to dislike Broeuer for his superiority in maijy things over myself?a superiority I was obliged to acknowledge. Dwelling on this made me realize more and more his inherent gift of command?command first of himself, next of his fellows?command not ostentatiously asserted with pomp and bluster, but command based on tact, the art of saying the right word and doing the right thing at the right time and place. Brocner seemed to know where lay the door to every person's good will; more he kuew how to open it This reflection seemed to germinate a more disagreeable idea, that despite-all Broener U.,,1 .1 ,. T ,.,oo K.,f I.Jo U,. uuii uuuo 1UI IUO, X him I'UU uio uvatuic. lid was ruling and influencing me as he did others. I (and this last thought smote me hard) stood to him as Hillyear had to Pratt when Pratt was himself. So the cloud, the cloud I alone made out of my thought, came between us and grew darker and darker, and more and more chilly. Yet our external intercourse was much the same as ever?at least we attempted to make it so. though the very attempts served but to reveal the change more clearly. I resolved at last to have the secret out of him. If he would not speak Blanche Sefton's name I would. So, one day, as we were coming down from the "Bank" laden each with forty pounds of rich quartz, I said in as indifferent a tone as I could assume: "That girl who played looks to me like one I knew home named Blanche Sefton." "Your friend has reason to be proud of the resemblance," replied Broener, in a careless way. Then he added, in a lower tone: "We mus'n't talk loud here. Bill Setter's crowd are working but a hundred feet below us, and Sefter is an artistic and accomplished busybody, with one ear always open for other people's business." No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I saw that I had now laid myself fully open to Broener. That he had my secret, if secret there was, without any exchange in return. He now knew the cause of my changed manner. In nautical language, I had given him all the marks and bearings of the channel and the course he should steer. Then I hated and admired him at the same time for the readiness with which, I saw, he had parried my question. That readiness, after a few moments' reflection, only made me more miserable. Because, I thought, he must know her name, and if it were not Blanche, what occasion would there bo for hie pf\nf?on1in(T it.? Sn t.hon it. woa Rlnnolio But Blanche may have given him a false name. There was hope. But what if she has? Is she not Blanche still? I was getting in that state where ray mind refused to work in proper fashion. If I kept on in this way, I should soon argue that a man had but to change his name to change his identity, and that when Charlotte Brown called herself Julia Smith she became Julia Smith. This alarmed me a little. Then the ridiculousness of my condition came over me, and I laughed aloud. "What are you laughing at?" said Broener. "At a fool I saw yesterday, when I looked in the glass, who took a strolling actress for a girl he knew in the states," I said, in a mood made up of petulance and vexation. Broener turned half round and gave me a look, apparently half surprise, half anger. I had "broken out in a new spot" for him, and in the remark he had possibly recognized an attempt of mine in his own fashion to throw him oft his guard. It was not The words were born of the mood I was in, and had flown out of my lips as of their own volitiou. Suddenly I recollected that the term "strolling actress" I had used was not one indicative of the highest respect for the lady in question, and that under the circumstances it could not have fallen agreeably on Broener's ears. I apologized lor having used such expression. He received ray apology in silence. I saw by this he meant to punish me, and of course my feelings against him were not at all lessened. Meantime the other cloud on Bull Bar was darkening for me. Pratt became worse. The physician talked of brain fever and looked grave. He added beside that some secret was on Pratt's mind. He inferred there "mast have been a quarrel and much ill will betwixt Pratt and some one previous to the?ahem?accident." Pratt raved continually about the "young un," who thought ho "owned the whole mountain." He was ever being "dogged about the chapparal by him," and so on. Mr. William Sefter drank in with his gossipy, greedy ears Pratt's utterances and vicif/vrl Pj-ott'o IUU UVA. IA71 a upiuiuu^ 11U (iOliiwu A iwvwa cabin on bis way to work in the morning, dropped in at noon and again at night. He made himself an assistant nurse to Pratt, brought him choice dishes and broths of his own making, and.he could make them well He was really useful. Besides, he carried from Pratt's house messes of gossip, which be distributed as a labor of love all over Bull Bar. Mr. Sefter's forte as a suspicion breeder lay in inferences. He had no direct charge against any one. But he said it was a "queer piece of business." Pratt, poor man, had been trying to get along and earn an honest living. He as good as supported Hillyear, who hadu't much gumption anyway. "Young Holder," he added, "found Pratt with those hurts on his head. Pratt couldn't bear the sight of Holder. Always set him to runnin' on about shootin' and rowin'. Holder was up the mountain that day. He saw him ?at least it looked like his shirt in the bushes. "Well, it was queer business." Such is a sample of the applications made by Mr. Sefter for individuals singly and individuals in groups for eight or ten days. He was in this work earnest and persevering, in season and out of season. He "set people to thinking." He educated them, in fact, to think suspiciously of me in connection with Pratt. Ordinarily on Bull Bar a "shootin' scrape" between two men. even if one was killed, might not get any farther than the local justice's court; might not get even there. The community tacitly acknowledged the pistol as the main arbiter in all manner of disputes. Smith "jumped" Jones' claim. Jones shot Smith dead. Nobody had time to inquire closely into the matter. The affair was a two days' sensation. In a week it was quite forgotten. But in this case here was Mr. Sefter'3 "poor sick man" and his partner devoting his whole time to him, and I, John Holder, in some mysterious way mixed up with them. Mr. Sefter played several chords on the various human hearts of a thousand strings he handled. First sympathy, next mystery and beyond that something dark?he would not say what?only something resembling myself or my red shirt on Scrub mountain could in the many views presented by him to his audiences be vaguely made out in the general indistinctness. So this busy man went on poisoning the Bull Bar mind against me. RrAnnor for MarvavillA on thft rlnv Pratt was pronounced worse. His interest in the "Bank" seemed now secondary to another elsewhere. After his departure I went down to Rankin's. It was noon. I arrived at the store just after the fifteen or twenty boarders had finished their dinner, and were now congregated for a smoke and a talk, preparatory to the long afternoon's work in their claims along the river bank. Just before entering I heard Setter's tongue rattling on at a livelier pace than ever. The gravity of Pratt's case seemed to act as a stimulaut upon him, exciting his imagination and touching up his suspicious inferences regarding this "queer business" in more pronounced colorings than ever. "And why don't he come out and tell the whole story said he. As I entered that hush ensued so peculiar to the unexpected advent of the party talked about. I know they were talking of me in connection with Pratt?or rather I felt it. I had felt it for some days?felt it in a certain coolness, in averted looks, and hints and inuendoes, whose full import and meaning now buret upon me. The silence was finally broken by one "Long Mac's" asking me if I "knew how I'ratt was." [This Story was commenced in No. 33. 1).?,.1? mimliimi will lio furnished lit cents per copy.] [to 11 k continued next week.] jgyNo one becomes good by accident. You may have a windfall of material wealth, hut not of grace. To be really good is the result of choice and set purpose of each individual. To wait for something to happen which will take you to heaven is to sink to the depths of hell. ? ? - - ? flSTThe greatest pleasure I know is to do a good action by stealth and have it found out by accident.?Lamb. miscellaneous Heading. VIRTUE THE FOUNDATION OF NATIONAL WELL-BEING. There is many a stately structure beautiful to look upon, and destined apparently to stand unharmed by the storm or flood for many years, but which in reality is on the brink of ruin because the invisible tooth of time eats away the foundations. And the records of history tell the tale of many a great state which, when seemingly destined to be lasting as the imperishable mountains, met with unexpected and disastrous overthrow because r\f tho mnrnl nnrrnnfmno whinh hofl rip. stroyed that virtue which is the foundation of every prosperous nation. The essential relation of virtue to civilized society is forcibly put by a recent writer in these expressive words: "Civilization is, first and foremost a moral thing. Without honesty ..without respect for law, without the worship of duty, without the love of one's neighbor?in a word without virtue?the whole is menaced, and falls to decay, and neither letters nor art, nor industry, nor rhetoric, nor the policeman nor the custom-house officer can maintain erectand whole an edifice of which the foundations are unsound." The substance of this comprehensive passage is compressed in a terse question by David, who was both a statesman and a king. That astute and ancient monarch asks: "If the foundations be destroyed what can the righteous do?"?a query which implies that when the rules of justice and truth are openly and generally violated there is nothing in society for an honest man. Might then takes the place of right; violence supplements order; the security and wellbeing of society are replaced by anarchy and ruin. To a pessimist the future of American society appears gloomy, if not threatening and disheartening. On every side he sees moral corruption eating its way into its political, commercial and social life. Almost everywhere injustice is furiouslv trampling upon honesty, falsehood is supplanting truth, organized selfishness is struggling to put its foot of iron upon the neck of law, and the greed of men hastening to be rich is heedlessly working to destroy the sanctity of the Sabbath and to set the seal of contempt upon Divine law. To the pessimist these things are portentious clouds big with indefinable calamities and with destruction to our national prosperity. To the pessimistic apprehensions the optimist replies with lightsome words. While not denying the presence, growth and power of many evil elements in the land, he insists that they are only as scum on the surface of society. Below it, he argues, is a substratum of national virtue, of fidelity to moral principles, and of respect for law, which will assuredly triumph over the ahounding outcrrppings of immoral principles characteristic of the passing epoch. Which of these judgments is sound ? Probably neither of them is to be accepted without due qualification. Things are not as bad as they appear to the pessimist because, as a matter of fact open to candid observation, the evil is nowhere entire or unmixed. Neither are things so clearly hopeful as the optimist believes, because the good is nowhere so all pervading as to be unmixed with evil, and therefore beyond reach of destruction. The wheat and the tares are everywhere growing side by side. Neither has full possession of the field. While, therefore, the lover of his country and of goodness sees no reason for yielding to the despair of nit; pessimist, ne utics perceive strung reasons why he should not sleep with the optimist on the pillow of drowsy indifference. The wheat must be protected against the spread of the tares. The crying sins which curse society must be denounced. The propagation of vicious principles must be checkmated bv vigorous exposures of their fallacy and danger. The light of God's truth must be made to shine on the national conscience, so that its perceptions of ethical truth shall be made clear as crystal and its tendency to moral laxity corrected.?N. Y. Christian Advocate. JOHN FITZGERALD. John Fitzgerald, the newly elected president of the National Irish Land League, was born in Ireland in 1831, thus making him fifty-five years oiu. Me is a small, thick set man, full of determination and energy. He will make a creditable representative of Irish affairs and interests, being fully aware that the work to be done is not of mean or ordinary pretensions. Mr. Fitzgerald came to the United States when very young, not having fully completed his eighteenth year; he found employment on a farm, not only sustaining himself but an aged father. He is one of the prominent Irish-Americans who seem to be born to be leaders. He was elected to the presidency of the Nafional Land League on the 19th day of August, 188G. Mr. Fitzgerald succeeds Mr. Patrick Egan, as president of the league and should he make himself as popular as his predecessor, he will be doing well indeed. John F. Finerty was looked upon as Mr. Egan's successor and probably would have been elected had he not opposed the policy of Mr. Michael Davitt in the convention. Although the course which Mr. Finerty pursued was received with approbation by many of the delegates it was seen that to follow him meant the formation of factions and to avoid this the election of John Fitzgerald was agreed upon. Tiie Bee's Sting.?The hive and its imates afford, perhaps, a more interesting finl'l <V\t? minr/\i:nAn!(i rocna rr>ii flmn nrv. 1JU1U JV/1 UliVlW^V|/IV i VUV?1 VII ?t?. J thing in the whole insect kingdom. Take the bee's sting; why, that alone might occupy all the rest of this paper. The sheathe makes the first wound, and, inside it, so managed that they inclose a tube-like space down which the poison runs, are two darts, all built in such a strictly mechanical way that?Mr. Cheshire says?they remind him of the guide rods of a steam engine. The poison is gummy, but it is prevented from clogging the machine by a gland, which secretes a lubricating oil. The queen's sting is bigger than the worker's?drones have none?but it is practically barbless, and can therefore be easily brought away instead of being left in the wound and thereby causing the death of its precious owner. It is a formidable weapon, thesheath is so hard that it turns the finest razor's edge; but a queen never stings, except in contest with another queen ; she may be handled with impunity. Of the worker it is a mistake to say that it always leaves its sting in I the wound, and dies from the loss. If it : generally does so, the fault often lies in I your impatience; bear it like a hero, and ! the bee will work its sting round and | round till it is able to withdraw it withI without impediment. Of course you get I pierced deeper and deeper, but then, conj sider, the creature's life is saved by your ' suffering.?All the Year Hound. HOME. The home governs the world. All social and moral laws of our common civilization revolve around the home. It is the school of social progress: Public opinion is the collective opinions of our home. Clear-sighted reformers aim to direct the power that rules the home. In a certain sense we are all reformers, we all try to make the world better; some are trying in one way, some in another; but we should all begin at home. Let the home be a cheerful, sunshiny place. There let us find neatness and comtort. Above all, let us have always good nature and means of improvement. Home is the place for all the best things; therefore don't keep all your cheerfulness for society, nor shut out all the sunshine except when you have visitors. Cheerfulness and sunshine do notcost anything, but withhold them and you are a heavy loser. It is not alone the housekeeper's duty to keep the home rooms neat and tidy; each member of the family should assist in it. There are a thousand ways of keeping clean that saves a vast amount of making clean. Anyone of refined feeling regards all labor to secure neatness a labor of love and duty. Did you ever hear that little fable of the chairs? For fear you haven't I'll tell it to you. "Well," said a straight-backed, straightlegged chair to a cosy rocking chair by whose side itchanced to lie plaeed, "before I would be such a drudge as you, I would be a stool; or, if possible, something more insignificant. People are not content with making you nurse everyone, be they big or little, but you must be continually rocking them to and fro." "To be sure," answered the little rocking chair, "I am always busy and on the go for the gratification of others; but thereby have I won many friends, and appear to be a great favorite with all. This pays me for all my trouble." The moral of this pretty fable is, that all who cheerfully and willingly do for others are the ones who gain most for themselves. This is a most beautiful lesson to utilize for home life. One of the pleasantestand noblestduties of the family is to furnish its members with good reading. In times that are past, it was considered enough to clothe, feed and shelter a family. But now it is recognized as a fact that we all have hungry minds to be satisfied. They must be fed a healthy diet; they want to be sheltered from the pitiless storm of error and vice. An ignorant , family is a dark spot on our modern intelligence. Let good reading go into a home and the very atmosphere changes. The boys begin to talk of men, principles, the past and the future. The girls find opening before them a new life of knowledge, duty and love. THE MOBILE RIFLES. The following little incident, touchingly significant of the better feeling existing between the military people of the North and South, occurred recently at Mobile, Ala. A general of the United States army was on his way from Arizona to New York, where he purposed entering a surgical college to have a difficult operation performed. As the train with the sick soldier approched Mobile, his aid saw that he was rapidly becoming very ill, and telegraphed ahead for assistance to convey him to a hospital. Dr. Hutton, the * medical superintendent of the Marine Hospital, was at the depot with attendants and a carriage. Themvalid was comfortably placed in it with the gentlest and most assiduous attention, but he died within sight of the building, a stranger in a strange land. ? The next day Dr. Hutton telegraphed to the family of the dead officer in Arizona for instruction as to the disposal of the remains, and received in reply: "Bury him where he died." As soon as the Mobile Ilifles had heard that "A soldier of the legion Lay dying in Algiers," they hastened to his help. But he was already dead, and it only remained for them to do honor to his memory. This they did by taking upon themselves the performance of the last rites as though the dead stranger had been one of their own comrades. They carried him draped with flags to the National Cemetery and gave him all the honors of military burial. In the afternoon of one of the hottest days of the Southern summer they marched in procession over the two miles of dusty road, and as the sun went down fired a farewell shot over the stranger's grave. Then covering it with flowers, they left him in the peaceful bivouacof the dead. The deceased soldier was a Plftladelphian, and when the Mayor of Philadelphia heard of the "brotherly love" of the Mobile Rifles he sent them an autograph letter of thanks, accompanied by a beautiful tribute. Surely this little incident is an earnest of united interests, and a proof that ever and always "The bravest are the tenderest, The loving are the daring.'.' Faixtixg.?It is surprising how everybody rushes at a fainting person and strives to raise him up, and especially to keep his head erect. There must be an instinctive apprehension that if a person seized with a faiting fit fall into k recumbent position death is more imminent. Always remember this fact, namely: Fainting is caused by want of blood in the brain. The heart ceases to act with sufficient force to send the usual amount of blood to the brain, and hence the person loses consciousness because the function of the brain ceases. Restore the blood to the brain and instantly the person recovers. Now, though the blood is propelled to all parts of the body by action of the heart, yet it is still under the influence of the laws of gravitation. In the erect position the blood ascends to the head against gravitation, and the supply to the brain is diminished, as compared with the recumbent position, the heart's pulsation being equal, it, tnen, you place a person sitting whose heart has nearly ceased to beat, his brain will fail to receive the blood; while if you lay him down with the head lower than the heart, blood will run into the brain by mere force of gravity, and in sufficient quantity to restore consciousness. Indeed, nature teaches us how to manage fainting persons, for they always fall and frequently are at once restored by the recumbent position into which they are thrown. Out from that family will go intelli[ gent men and women to fill useful and honorable places in society. Let the torch of improvement be lit in every household. Let the young and the old vie with one another in introducing new and useful topics of investigation and in cherishing a love forstudyancl advancement. Such a home implants memories in the heart that can never die. The rough rubs of the world can never obliterate them. Lives so formed are the timbers that uphold the world.?Chicago Ledger. 3^-Common sense in an uncommon degree is what the world calls wisdom.