New York dispatch. [volume], March 29, 1885, Page 2, Image 2

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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fusion, she was aroused to the fact that she was
calmly sitting there in the carriage keeping
everybody waiting. She jumped up, scrambled
out rather too quickly to be dignified, and
mounted the steps, while the butler gathered
up her wraps.
The maid-servant came forward and made
aome apology for her mistress’s absence, she
having gone with the young ladies to a tennis
party; in the meantime the maid would show
nor to her room; and would she go there first,
®r would she have tea, which was ready in the
morning room ?
Dusty and travel-stained, with some of the
.jld discouragement falling upon her again at
the cold indifference of the welcome, Lyn asked
,to be shown to her room first'. It was a long
way off; she seemed to be leaving th® front part
of the hous® as they passed down corridors
upon which opened daintily-furnished bed
rooms, till they came to a passage shut off from
the rest by a heavy baize cover and curtain
draped door. She found out that her ood-room
was close to the school-room, which was situa
ted in th® earn® wing as that occupied by the
servants. The room was simply, though com
fortably furnished, and its sweetness and fresh
ness, after the grime and dinginess of a London
ill-furnished lodging, delighted Lyn.
< £ If only Ann® could share itl she said to
herself, as she smoothed her hair before the
muslin-draped mirror, her face, after its hasty
plunge in the soft, cool water, looking fresh and
sweet again. The maid was waiting for her, for
Lyn did not think she would ever find her way
back to th® halt Having finished her ablutions,
the maid conducted Lyn down to the morning
room, a pretty quaintly-furnished room at the
hack of the house, opening on to the tennis
courts. ~ .
Some tea was set on a little table near one of
the open French windows, through which came
the scent of roses and jasmine: and Lyn found
that she was to have it all to herself. There
was a plate of sandwiches put for her, as the
eohool-room tea was not to be till eight, the
maid told her; and then she too went away, and
Lyn had the room to herself.
She sat there drinking her tea and making an
effort to eat a sandwich, jmd trying to take in
the strangeness of the fact that she, the daugh
ter of her disinherited father, who had died
unforgiven, should be sitting there eating broad
in his old home, which was to bo hers for the
next six months ; thinking of all the bitterness
and anger of that old past, wondering now a
little of how she had dared to come to that stern
Unforgiving old man ; thinking of her mother’s
dismay and sorrowful anger when she had first
heard of th® daring act, of the hard struggle it
had been for her to allow her daughter to come
to the house in which her husband had been bo
mercilessly treated ; of the tears and entreaties
of Anne. But Lyn had one motive so powerful
that it made her overlook all probable trials for
herself—the increasing delicacy of her mother.
Her reflections proved too much for Lyn.
filowly two very large tears gathered in her
eyes, and in another moment fell, hot and scald
ing, upon her hands.
“ May I eome in and have some tea?” asked
ft voice from th® jasmine-framed window just as
those two unlucky tears showed themselves.
Lyn started and turned, her lace flushing
crimson.
“Oh!” involuntarily exclaimed the young
man who stood there—the same 57110 had
watched her arrival—the sight of her tear-filled
eyes filling him with consternation; then, with
quick tact, h® lifted hi® arm to gather some jas
mine. Thia gav® Lyn time to recover.
“May I come in?” he asked, with careless
courtesy, having apparently selected a spray to
his satisfaction. “ I’m left here all alone. They
have gon® to a tennis-party ; but it was too hot
for me—besifl.®, they are so slow in this part,”
he went on, entering the window as he spoke.
you won’t mind giving me some tea?
J didn’t know they were expecting a visitor.”
Ly-n flushed hotly.
“I’m not exactly a visitor ; at least, I’m going
to stay here for some time,” she explained,
pouring out a cup of tea, for which he waited,
Standing by her side. “ I'm going to do les
sons.”
“ Lesson® !” He laughed, as if amused ; and,
taking the cup, he walked over to a low divan
near and sat down in a careless lounging atti
tude. “ I nity you in this hot weather ; beside,
Miss Tibbs, too, she is severe as Minerva her
aelt; What a time you will have ! Though I
am not at all sure that her society isn’t better
than ”
He stopped abruptly, and drank his tea.
Lyn’s mind, full of prejudice against Mrs.
Cobb, silently filled up the blank to that good
lady’s detriment.
“I’m very glad I am to be in the school
room,” she said, with such decided energy that
the young man looked lazily amused.
“That’s not very complimentary to us, who
are not in th® school-room 1” he remarked,
coming over to her again with his cup.
“ Oh, I wasn't thinking of you !” she ex
claimed in quick confusion, and then stopped
and colored furiously.
He laughed outright, looking down at the
pretty brown head bent, half iu vexation, half
Tn shyness, over the cream-jug as she filled his
cup.
“Whom were you thinking of?” he asked,
teasing her as if she were a child.
Lyn rather resented his manner, though it
was kindly and courteous after a patronizing
feshion. Bhe seemed in this last fortnight to
have quite grown up, under the weight of the
cares and responsibilities ot her new life, and
ehe did not like to be treated like a child. She
was silent, and her evident disapproval only
Lightened the mischief in his eyes as he sank
down again upon tho ottoman.
“You mustn’t form prejudices at your age,
child,” he said, in the same half-mocking tone.
“ It is such a mistake—you will have to undo
them all in another year or so.”
“ I shall always think as I do now upon—
eome subjects !” she returned, a little warmly ;
“ and I’m not such a child as you imagine. I
am going to earn my own living in a year or
two.”
He laughed. Lyn’s pretty face flushed hotly
from brow hi chin. She was quite sure now
that she did net like his manner, and was
eager to set him right, but scarcely knew how
to begin.
“ I am afraid,” ho said, settling himself still
more comfortably, •'• that the life of noble use
fulness that you are planning will be frustrated
by—circumstances over which you have no con
trol,” he added abruptly, .looking with amused
admiration into tho pretty, petulant face. “ Your
ending will be much more prosaic.”
Lyn was now seriously angry. He must be
snubbed somehow. It was most impertinent of
him to allude to the probability of her marriage,
for she supposed that was what he meant.
“Are—are you very tired?” she asked, with
what she intended to’be cold dignity, her face
growing crimson again.
“No!” he answered. “ Why ?”
“ I thought you were, perhaps—judging from
—the—the position you have taken,” she said
desperately, feeling with hot indignation that,
if she were what was called “ out,” he would
not lounge in her presence in that fashion. It
was quite evident that he thought her too much
of a child even to deserve respect.
He sat bolt upright and looked at her with
eyes in which astonishment struggled with
amusement.
“ I beg your pardon ; I forgot!”
“You thought I was only a child ; so it did
not matter how you treated me ; I suppose it
doesn’t much, for I shall not see anything of
you, I imagine; but -but I ”
“ You wish to be treated with the respect—
due to your years,” he finished gravely and
deferentially. “ I will not forget for the future.
By-the-by, that reminds me that I have not told
you my name. It ia Estalby. May I have the
pleasure of ”
“ Mine is Irwyn—Lyn Irwyn.”
The young man looked at her in amazement.
“That accounts for their not telling me of
your arrival,” he remarked in an odd tone ; but
before she could speak, tho sound of carriage
wheels at the front of the house and the merry
voices of tho returning party broke upon their
ears.
Every other thought was swept from Lyn’s
mind before this one of meeting Mrs. Cobb and
her lamiiy.
CHAPTER IV.
“ what’s THE USE OF LOVE WITHOUT money ?”
Lyn had not seen Mrs. Cobb since that morn
ing in the dining-room in May Fair. As Mr. Es
talby now walked across the room to open the
door, Lyn advanced too, her face very pale, her
heart beating with quick, short throbs of excite
ment and strong feeling. She expected some
such greeting as she had received in Grosvenor
Square.
Mr. Estalby opened the door just as the new
comers reached it, and Mrs. Cobb, followed by
half a dozen prettily-dressed girls, entered the
room. At the sight of her enemy, a bright defi
ant look came into Lyn’s eyes.
“My dear child,” eaid Mrs. Cobb, sweeping
up to her with smiling lips. “ I was so sorry
not to have been able to meet you; but I was
really obliged to chaperon them all this after
noon.”
Before Lyn could shrink back, as she would
assuredly have done if she had anticipated what
was to follow, Mrs. Cobb had imprinted a kiss
upon her cheek, and then turned to a plump,
good-tempered-looking girl, who was staring at
Lyn.
“Hero, Maggie, come and be introduced to—
to Lyn. You must be good friends.”
Maggie did as she was told, and Lyn shook
her hand, standing there with a curious feeling
of having had the tables turned most unexpect
edly upon herself, and fancying that all the pret
ty, smiling girls were watching her stiff, ungra
cious behavior with disapproving eyes.
“ How do you do?” said one of the girls, the
prettiest and most daintily dressed of them all,
coming forward from the little group.
Then Lyn, turning to answer tho greeting,
Baw that it was Muriel Cobb.
“ Now you two. little ones had better run off.
Maggie, you must take care of Lyn, and intro
duce her to Miss Tibbs, and show her the school
room, and take her round the grounds. You
had better ask to have your work excused to
night, for to-morrow Lyn will have to begin to
work hard—won’t you, Lyn ?”j
Lyn murmured something inaudible in reply,
and, Maggio leading the way, the two left the
room in obedience to Mrs. Cobb’s dismissal.
“ Bother !” exclaimed Maggie, with petulant
irritation, when they stood outside in the pas
sage.
“ Why?” asked Lyn in astonishment.
“ Why, being packed off like this ! I always
stay down stairs till the dressing-bell rings, ‘it
is just tho jolliest time in the house, and all the
men will be arriving in a few minutes. Why,
there are some of them already I How quickly
they have walked I”
The two girls had reached the great square
hall, and through its open door, as Maggie lin
gered, Lyn saw two or three young men, rac
quets in band, coming across the lawn.
As Maggie led the way up the broad oak stair
case, she suddenly remembered that she had
left a book that morning out in the tennis-courts.
She asked Lyn to go down with her to fetch it,
and they wenc round by the outside of the house.
As they passed tho morning-room, from which
came the sound of merry laughter and voices,
the girls having been joined by tho men of the
party, Lyn saw Mr. Estalby standing in the jes
samine-framed window talking to Muriel Cobb.
She was fastening a spray of jessamine in the
lace of her dress, while he watched her with
such a grave look that Lyn was startled.
Bh® could not account for the fancy, but some
thing told her that it was ■ ie spray that he had
gathered when he had been talking to her, and
equally unaccountable was a sudden feeling of
blankness. His kindliness, careless though it
had been, had given her a vague sense of pro
tection and friendship. Now perhaps the jessa
min® told that he too belonged to the enemy.
“ It is easy to see that mamma isn’t in the
room !” exclaimed Maggie,with a meaning laugh,
as sh® too looked as they passed the window.
“ Why ?” asked Lyn.
“ You’re a goose !” retorted Maggie, slipping
her hand within Lyn’s arm. “ But you’ll grow
very wise before you've been here long. Come
along; there's Miss Tibbs—she’s very jolly.”
Lyn found Miss Tibbs a pleasant-mannered
woman, with none of the severity that Mr. Es
talby had led her to expect. This fact made her
still more indignant with the young man, who
had expended bis foolish wit at her expense.
The three went back to the school-room to
gether, meeting none of the house party on their
way. Lyn found her box already unpacked by
the school-room maid, so she sat down to write
a letter home. She did not say much about the
Cobbs, she only gave an account of her journey.
She had made up her mind that, whatever might
b® the discomforts of her visit, they should not
hear of them at home. As nothing very pleas
ant had happened yet, she had little to say of
the Cobbs, except that she liked Maggie. Sh®
nearly added that she had made the acquaint
ance of a most objectionable young man; but
some feeling prevented,her, and she sealed up
her letter instead.
Just as it was finished, Maggie came to call
her to the school-room tea. It looked very
tempting—Mrs. Cobb, not being at any personal
expense, practiced no economy on that score.
The home-made bread, the country butter, the
new-laid eggs, the hot chicken, and some sweets
from the late dinner the night before, with the
delicious tea-oakes, mad® Lyn wish that she
could see her mother and Anne sitting opposite
to her at tho well-covered table, it even brought
back her own appetite, and Miss Tibbs and Mag
gie were quite glad to see her eat something.
When tea was cleared away Miss Tibbs went
into her room to write a letter, and Maggie,
drawing up two of the most comfortable chairs
to the open window, made Lyn sit down in one,
and she took the other, to have a long “ talk,”
as she expressed it.
“Mamma says 1 am not logo down stairs after
dinner to-n ght,” she said, settling herself in
her chair. “I always do; but she said you
would be too tired to come, and I couldn’t
leave you alone.”
“ Ob, but you needn’t have troubled about
me 1” said Lyn, in real distress. “ I do not
mind being alone.”
“ Oh, I don’t care !” said Maggie, good-hu
moredly. “Beside, perhaps you didn’t bring
any evening dresses, and mamma says you
need not bother about any, as you won’t re
quire them much. She says you want to work
hard. Any way, it will bo awfully slow. All
th® party’s paired off, and Dar Estalby—his
real name’s Edward; but it is so hideous, he is
always called Dar—won’t talk to me when Mu
riel’s in the room, though he will talk hours
to. me when she’s out of it; but then it is all
about her, ot course. And now all his time is
taken up in trying to got between her and that
horrid old Sir James Sanderson. He's as mis
erable as he can be, I know, though he won’t
show it, and of course Muriel is obliged to let
Sir James pay her some attention because of
mamma, and Dar knows that, though some
times I have seen him turn as white as a sheet
when sho is laughing and talking to old Sander
son, and it’s awfully stupid of him, because ho
knows it is all uretenae.”
“ But,” gasped Lyn, who was growing wiser
indeed, she and Anne having been brought up
in nun-like simplicity and purity; “ but if she
cares ”
“Cares! Why, of course she does! Who
couldn’t care for Dar ? Ho’a out and out the
best-looking man I’ve ever seen, and just awful
ly jolly ! Mamma doesn’t at all like his being
here, because he is so jolly, and he hasn’t a
penny; but the old man—Mr. Irwyn, you know
will have him here for long visits. Ho has
known him since he was a boy. I suppose he
must have some queer sort of fancy tor him,
though he certainly doesn’t show it. He is so
cross and rude to him at times; but Dar is awful
ly good and patient with him. He sits in tho old
man’s room every day for an hour. I wonder
he doesn’t go out of his mind, for sometimes
Mr. Irwyn doesn’t say a word, unless it is ono
here and there to contradict him. Ho goes on
at him awfully sometimes—Benson has hoard it
and has been quite frightened.”
“ What does Mr. Estalby do then ?” askod
Lyn, a little curious ip spite of herself.
“Oh, I don’t know —ha sits snd smokes, I be
lieve I Mamma says ho only does it to curry
favor with the old man; but I Know Dar hotter
than that.”
“Your mother isn’t very kind in her thoughts,”
Lyn said, her lip curling disdainfully.
“ Papa says so too. They didn’t at all like
your coming here at first, for mamma and papa
have done a groat deal in looking after the old
man, and it ie only fair that they should be paid
back, and sho was afraid your people might
set him against ua.”
“ Not very likely !” exclaimed Lyn, bitterly,
thinking of all the hardness and coldness that
had been sown as seed between them and him.
“But it's all right now I” went on Maggie.
“They have always been telling the old man
that he ought to make soma arrangement
about his property, and a week ago, when we
were in London, he had the lawyer, and he told
mamma afterward that matters were settled
and that all parties would be satisfied, and that
if they were not, they ought to bo. Pehaps it
was a little hard upon all of you, for if he had
died without a will, it would all have come to
you and you would have been awfully rich;
but ”
“ Why would it have come to us ?” asked
Lyn.
“ Why ? How simple you are! Because
your father was his only son-—he behaved very
badly, didn’t ho ?”
“ Maggie I” A scarlet wave swept over Lyn’s
face and her eyes flashed with indignation.
“ I beg your pardon!” cried Maggio, peni
tent and confused. “ I don’t really know any
thing about it; only I know ”
*• Never mind I” said Lyn shortly.
“ Well, I won’t say anything about it again.
I’m very sorry. After all, though he has always
declared you should not have the money, he is
sure not to cut you off altogether. Still, I think
it is quite right’that we should have some, too,”
continued Maggio, in all good faith, believing,
a® was natural at her age, in tho rights of her
father and mother. “ For it has been no end of a
bother.”
“What has?” inquired Lyn, in perfect inno
cence.
“ Why, looking after the old man and all
that ”
“But do you see so much of him?” asked
Lyn, doubtfully, tho thought of being brought
into constant contact with her bitter old grand
father rather appalling her.
“ No, not so much, for he spends nearly the
whole time in his own rooms; but then it is a
constant worry his being in the house. And
when do you see him, he is so ill-tempered and
horrid that one never knows what he will do
next.”
Maggie paused tor a moment and then re
sumed abruptly:
“ I do hope the old man has behaved decently
at last, for then Dar and Muriel can got mar
ried. If he hasn’t, she will have to take that
stupid old Sanderson.”
“But, Maggie, not if—if”—Lyn’s voice fal
tered— “ she loves Mr. Estalby ?”
“My dear child! What's the use of love
without money? But, mind you don’t go
talking about it, for mamma doesn’t know of
the engagement. She would be mad. She only
suspects they like each other, and that is why
she is so anxious to make up this match be
tween Sir James and Muriel.”
She stopped abruptly, and into the careless
face came a puzzled, doubting look that made
its expression truer and better than tho one
that usually accompanied the reckless, flippant
talk.
But it vanished quickly as the sound of foot
steps on the gravel beneath the window and the
voices of some of the guests, who, having fin
ished dinner, had strolled out into the garden
attracted her attention. Sh® pushed her head
farther out of the window and called down to
the couples who were strolling past, keeping up
a laughing chatter with them as they lingered a
minute or two under the school-room window,
and explaining, as they passed again, their posi
tions and affairs to Lyn.
A light, firm tread sounded on the gravel be
low. and out went Maggie’s head again with an
exclamation.
“That’s Dar!”
Lyn, without knowing why, as she certainly
could not be seen, shrank back as the whiff of
a cigar floated up to the open window.
“ Hallo, Maggie ! What evil thing have you
been perpetrating that you are in durance vile
to-night?” called up the pleasant musical
voice that Lyn in her dusky corner recognized
at once. “ How are you getting on with your
new relative? Not annihilated yet, I hope?
She is so awfully prim, she quite frightens me,”
the laughing voice went on, as the speaker did
not understand immediately Maggie’s frantic
gesticulations, she nearly falling out of the win
dow in her endeavors to explain that the new
relative was there.
He understood at last, and, making a comical
grimace, passed on. Maggie drew in her head
again to see if Lyn had heard. But Lyn leant
back in her chair with an appearance of uncon
sciousness that completely deceived her, and
she chattered on again.
But Lyn’s feelings toward the young fellow,
though she preserved a dignified silence on the
subject, had undergone another change.
“ Conceited, etuck-up young man !” ehe said
to herself. “ I shall take very good care that I
don’t speak to him again.”
The girls were sent to bed soon afterward;
Maggie accompanied Lyn to her room and lin
gered there awhile, until forcibly taken away by
Miss Tibbs.
(To be Oontinuod.)
NEW YORK DISPATCH, MARCH 29», 1885.
MimKHJMJiTin.
The Story of a Young Lover.
I was twenty-one when I asked Ada to marry
me, and it was the happiest moment in my lite
when sho said “ Yes.”
It was not a thoughtloss thing for mo to do, for
I really loved Ada, and was iu a position to
keep her in comfort.
I would never have asked my dear girl to
marry me unless I had been able to give her a
comfortable homo, for L don’t believe in a man
who marries a woman when he has hardly
enough to keep himself.
This is my way of looking at it, although a
great many young people will not agree with me
in this:
What will keep ono, will not keep two; you
may rely upon that.
When Ada said “ Yes,” I was not long in ask
ing her to name the day; for my holiday was
near at hand, and Ada and I would be able to
go down to devoushiro for a fortnight to spend
our honeymoon.
People who have to get their living, have to
do things in a matter-of-fact way; but they are
just as romantic, for all that.
The first thing I did when I obtained her con
sent, was to go and tell Jim Towsend all about
it. Jim was my friend, and I said:
“When I am married you shall always have a
seat by my fireside.,’
“ Wives" don’t always like their husband's
friend’s,” said Jim, sagely; “ but I’ll come if I
am wanted.”
“My Ada will always bo glad to see my
friends,” I cried proudly. “ You shall oome
and see her to-morrow night.”
“ Very well,” said Jim, and then we said good
night, and my friend went in to supper.
A man in love is a strango creature, and I felt
restless, and not at all inclined to sleep; eo I
walked up and down the moonlit street, my
heart full of Ada.
Passing along a quiet square, I caught sight
of a man and woman talking under a lamp
post.
If tho woman had not looked round I shouldn’t
have seen her face; but, in saying good-by to her
companion, I saw it clearly enough.
It was Ada Richards; I could not be mistaken
in the face I loved so dearly.
Wondering why sho was out so late, and who
the man was she was speaking to, I was about
to cross the road, when I was stopped by a cab,
which would have run over me had I not drawn
back.
Quickly as tlie cab wont by, when it had gone,
neither the man nor the "woman were to be
seen.
Hurriedly I crossed tho road and turned the
corner of the street. My eager eyes caught
sight of a retreating figure; running after it, I
touched her on the shoulder, saying:
“ I thought you were in bed and asleep.”
The woman turned indignantly. It was not
Ada 1 In the darkness of the narrow street my
sweetheart had disappeared, and I had spoken
to a strange lady.
She paid not tho slightest attention to my
apologies, but walked on, evidently thinking
that I was intoxicated,
I felt strangely agitated at seeing Ada, for
that it was her I had no doubt. Why had she
come out at this late hour, when she had told
me sho was going to stop indoors ?
I would ask hor on the morrow; with this re
flection I went to my lodging and tried to sleep,
but that night sleep was a stranger to my weary
eyes, and I could not help thinking of the dark
shadow that had passed over Jim’s face when I
had mentioned the name of Ada Richards.
Did ho know anything against her ? I would
ask hirn in the morning ;■ but when daylight ap
peared, all my gloomy thoughts vanished with
the darkness.
When I met Jim in the evening I was as cheer
ful as usual, and we walked arm and arm to
gether talking and laughing.
It was only three miles to my fairy’s house,
and Jim and'l decided to walk it.
When we arrived outside the house in which
Ada resided, I saw her standing at the window,
and she smiled and blushed as our eyes mot.
“ Is that her ?” asked Jim, as we mounted the
steps.
“"Yes—is she not pretty?”
“If she is as good as she is beautiful, you’ll
have nothing to complain of,” said Jim, as I
knocked at the door with a trembling hand, for
somehow I always felt nervous on going to see
Ada.
The door was opened and wa walked into the
drawing-room.
“ Allow me to introduce to yon, Mr. James
Winter,” I said. “He is the truest and best
friend I have.”
Hearing that Jim was my best friend, Ada
smiled and extended her hand, and after that
we three sat down and chatted gayly.
I could not help noticing that Ada looked
paler than usual, and I told her so as Jim went
to the window to admire the flowers on the win
dow sill.
“1 have a slight headache,” she admitted.
“ You shouldn’t slop up so late at night,” I
replied, looking straight at hor. “It doesn’t do
for a delicate girl to stand talking in the streets
on a cold Winter’s night.”
“ Why, Jack,” she said, looking puzzled, “it
was you that kept me out. It was half-past
eleven when you left me.”
I was about to make some angry rejoinder to
thia, and tell her that I had seen her talking
with a man at twelve at night, when I was called
by her father.
“ Como, Jack,” he cried, “ I want to show you
a horse I have bought. lam afraid I have been
taken in; I know you are a good judge of horse
flesh.”
I felt cross with Ada for the first time in my
life, and was only too pleased to follow Mr. Ric
hards, leaving Jim to talk to her.
This is the conversation that passed between
them, I was told, afterward:
“ Jack is a very good fellow,” said Jim, in his
blunt way, “ and I hops you will make him hap
py. I have known him so long, that he seems
like a brother to me.”
“lam very fond of Jack,” replied Ada, quick
ly, “or I should not havo consented to marrv
him.”
A minute’s panse, and then Jim spoke again,
It doesn’t do,” he said, “ for a girl to be seen
walking about with another fellow when sho is
engaged to bo married.”
Ada both looked and felt astonished. What on
earth could her future husband’s best friend bo
driving at? Sho thought his remark a very
strange one.
“Does your sweetheart do that?” asked Ada,
thinking that ho was desirous of enlisting her
sympathy.
“ I haven’t got one,” said Jim, shaking his
head, and looking as if inclined to add, “And a
good job, too.”
When wo were walking home together that
night, I fancied Jim looked very grave and pro
occupied.
“ What on earth is tho matter ?” I askod.
“Nothing,” ho answered, shortly, and shak
ing hands at the corner of the street, Jim left me
without another word.
I did not see much of him for tho next two or
threa days, and during that time I became con
scious of a change in Ada. She seemed to have
lost her high spirits, and once, coming into her
presence unexpectedly, I found her in tears.
When I asked her why she was weeping, she
gave some evasive answer, and this, in conjunc
tion- with Jim’s odd behavior, made me ex
tremely uncomfortable.
I was walking down the street, turning over
the mystery ia my mind, when who should I
run against but my friend.
“ Hallo 1” I said, brightening up a. bit, “ I was
thinking of you. Where on earth did you drop
from?”
“To tell you the truth,” said Jim, “I was
looking for you. I can’t stand it any longer. It
isn’t a pleasant thing to say, old fellow; but I
have found out that the girl you have set your
heart upon is not worthy of you. Somebody has
seen her ever so many times talking to a man.
Last night he kissed hor.”
“ It is false I” I cried, fiercely, and for a mo
ment it was a toss-up whether I sprang at Jim’s
throat or not: but I thought of our long friend
ship, and cooled down a little.
“Look here,” I said, as calmly as I could, for
I was trembling with anger, “if you can’t prove
your words, I’ll give you the biggest thrashing
you ever had in your life, though you are my
friend.”
“ Go to Miss Richards, and ask her who it was
sho met last night,” returned Jim. “If sho can
answer that question to your satisfaction, I’ll
take the thrashing like a man, and feel that I
deserved it.”
And he walked off, leaving me in a stalo of
mind impossible to describe.
Without stopping to think of what I was going
to do, I went over to Ada, and the instant I
found myself in her presence, asked, abruptly :
“ Who was it you met last night ?”
I waited anxiously for a reply to my question,
but none came.
Instead of answering me, Ada buried her face
in her hands, and began to cry bitterly.
“ Who was it you met last night?" I asked,
impatiently.
“ Hush 1” said Ada, rising to close the door.
“ Don’t let my father hear.”
“Oh 1 you are ashamed of the truth being
known to your father?” I asked, sneeringly,
“ but I’ll take care he hears the whole story."
Ada dried her eyes and looked at me defi
antly.
“ You aro a brute,” she cried, " and I hate
you. Tell him, if you like—l don’t care. He’ll
turn me out of the house for my disobedience;
but what does it matter to you ?”
“ What will the neighbors say if they find out
your goings on ?” I asked, roughly. “Stealing
out of the house every night.”
“ That’s false,” said Ida. “ I met her inside
the house, and once only, for the last time.”
“ Her ?” I related, blankly.
“ Yes,” returned Ada, beginning to sob again.
“ father swore I should never see Katie again
when she ran off and married Will Palmer,with
out his consent; and, out of kindness, she never
came near ms. But she is going to America,
and has been living near the old home for a
fortnight, keeping indoors all day, so that she
should not meet my father. And, last night,
our servant let her in after father was in bed,
to bid me good-by—for years, perhaps, for over
it may be. Her husband did kiss her when she
joined him, I daresay, not knowing that there
was anybody mean enough to spy upon them.
He was waiting for her outside, and she was
crying bitterly when we parted. Oh 1 Jack, to
think you should have believed such things of
me. I’ll never forgive you—never I”
“ You are as like as two peas,” I said. “Oh 1
Ada, forgive me 1"
“ Never 1” said Ada again, and she looked as
if she meant to keep her word.
Did sho ?
Well, there sho sits yonder, darning the socks
of our eldest.
That looks rather as if she did—doesn’t it ?
We call him Jim, just to show the other Jim
that wo bear no malice; and his advice, and our
advice, to young lovers is: Nover believe ill of
each other without first finding out whether tho
rumors have any foundation in fact, for it may
often happen that matters can be explained as
easily as the case of mistaken identity I havo
just been telling you about.
BEATINGJTHEJOMPANY.
Railroad Conductors who Believe that
Dishonesty is the Best Policy.
(From, the Cincinnati Weekly Times.)
Only a fow days ago I was on a train with a
prominent railroad president whose name is
iamiliar all over Ohio. The conductor came
through armed with his punch and a suspicious
look for limited tickets and over aged passes.
“ All conductors are honest, are they not ?” I
asked, intending to learn from the president the
ways of conductors w’ho get rich suddenly.
“ Oh, yes; always. Never know a conductor
who wasn’t honest. Oh, no ’’—with a sarcastic
grin. “Yes, my dear friend, always honest. I
was on a train once with one of the most trust
ed and respected conductors of our line. In an
accident near Columbus he was thrown off and
killed. When we came to strip him we found
$17,000 in a belt about his waist. More than
that we found that he had two or three farms
somewhere. Yet he was one of the honest and
beloved conductors who was never suspected of
stealing a cent.”
“ What did you do with the $17,000?”
“ What could we do ? His widow and chil
dren got it, of course.”
“ But he was not a fair sample ?”
“ Oh, I suppose there are some conscientious
men who never take a nickel. But they are
rare. I suppose they think the company does
not pay them enough, and that they must bor
row to make up lor it. Years ago, you know,
we did not sell tickets only at main stations. No
tickets were sold at small places eave lor long
distances. ‘ Pay the conductor ’ was the rule,
and it paid the conductors well. I remember
when the Bee Line was first opened to Colum
bus. There were a fow conductors on that
road who lived higher than the president. They
would set up a basket of champagne when they
laid over in Columbus, and dress like lords. It
was a picnic for them for some years, until tho
ticket system camo into vogue. It was much
tho same on all the roads. Conductors lived
high, bought farms, fast horses and sealskin
sacques. But when some of them got caught
tho others profited by the lesson, and the
‘ knocking down ’ habit became lees popular.”
“But how do you detect it?”
“By putting ‘ spotters’ on the train.”
“What kind of men do you use?”
“Strangers, generally; or almost anybody
who does not belong to the road. Wo some
times give business people a free trip to do
some detective work for us.”
“ Explain the method of working it.”
“ Well, the main idea is to catch the conductor
who knocks down cash fares. We put a half
dozen men on each car. When we want some
good work done we employ some men from
Pinkerton’s agency at $5 a day and expenses.
They are given money and pay their fare.
Supposejthoygare going from Cleveland to Co
lumbus. Ono pays to Grafton and gets off,
another to Crestline, another to Delaware or
Columbus. They all watch how much the con
ductor takes in cash, how many passes and how
many tickets. When a man pays his fare he al
ways asks how much it is and names his des
tination plainly so that there may be no mis
take. Tho c spotter’ hears this and they all
watch so many people they can tell when they
return within $2 how much has been collected.
If the conductor doos not return as much, we
find out why not and something drops. There
was one conductor that I knew of on the Pan
Handle who went out ot Columbus one night in
groat luck. The ticket office was closed and he
collected fares of all the passengers taken on
from that point and beyond. However, he was
watched. He took in $237.50. How much do
you think he returned ?”
“ Oh, about $37.50.”
“ Close guess, but wrong. No, ho was mean
enough to keep even the half dollar. He just
cleared $200.50 by his night’s work. However,
he was soon cleared.”
“But do you watch your poor conductors
now ?”
“ Oh, the poor fellows are tempted now and
then, you know. It’s human nature. Yes,
every now and then when returns from one
man do not average up well we watch him. We
got some good Pinkerton men, or else hire from
some local agency. We have shadowed some
men for weeks until we caught them. I know
of an old trusted conductor who was watched
once as a test. He ran between Steubenville
and Pittsburg, making the round trip each day.
Well, we found that he stole sixty cents each
day. No matter how strong or light might be
his business he only took out sixty cents. He
did thia with unfailing regularity. We couldn’t
understand it, but finally tho idea struck mo
that as ho had lived iu Steubenville, took din
ner in Pittsburg and returned home for supper,
he just paid fifty cents for his dinner, and ten
cents for a good cigar, for all of which he thought
the company should pay, and so wo decided to
keep him. A man who would steal so slightly
and conscientiously was belter than hoggish
thieves, and we kept him.”
“But the ticket system has diminished tho
cash revenue ?”
“ Yes, tho ticket schemes threw all the boys
into the scalping business. They commenced
saving the tickets without punching them, and
had an agent on tho outside to help them. As
Columbus is a great railroad centre it became a
ticket scalper’s paradise. I know of one con
dcutor who was the greatest rascal who ever
run a train, and yet he was a good conductor.
The trouble was that he was too clever as an
abductor. But he got caught. Ono of the em
ployees went to the general manager, remarked
that there were more old tickets than usual,
and it looks as if something was crooked. A
certain conductor on the Cincinnati Division of
tho Pan Handle was suspected aud watched.
Well, it took a month to capture him. His plan
was to take up through tickets from Cincinnati
to Pittsburg, and keep them whole, instead of
dotaching the coupon and leaving the conduc
tor who came on at Columbus tako up the main
ticket. Tho passengers wore given a red chock
with three holes in cresent shape punched in
the top. They were told that this would carry
them through—and it did through an arrange
ment mado to honor checks of this description.
We found that thia conductor mado arrange
ments with certain fellow conductors on the
Eastern Division to pass soma “ friends ” who
would bo designated by this peculiar check ip
their hats. So ho never worked this game un
less he ran against certain friends in the other
division.
“ But to find him out we had the baggage-man
at tho depot inquire of passengers holding old
tickets whore they got them. They named one
of our prominent city ticket offices. The man
in charge there was so far above suspicion that
we did not believe it. However, we got a pack
age of tickets good from Cincinnati to Pittsburg,
and set some detectives at work. They present
ed these tickets and were given the peculiar
checks. One fellow objected and wanted to know
how he would got beyond Columbus. He was
told that tho hat check was as good as a ticket,
bo it proved. These tickets had been carefully
marked and tho numbers recorded. But they
did not come in with the returns. So we had
one detective watch at tho ticket office where
the honest official presided. He found that the
conductor visited that office every day. On®
morning, after his usual visit, a detective bought
a ticket to Pittsburg. Others did tho same.
They were tho identical tickets which had been
used to catch the conductor.
“ Then the game was exposed. He left his
tickets for the agent to sell, and they divided
up. He sold them instead of those furnished
by the company, and there is no telling how
many times a ticket was sold until it was worn
out. Well, we arrested tho conductor and took
him to an attorney’s office, where he was ad
vised to toll everything. He declared his inno
cence. The detective was in a next room. He
was called, and yet the fellow protested not
guilty. Then the ticket agent was brought from
hia place. We told him that he was wanted to
make a deposition. Ho came unsuspecting
until he savf’the conductor. Then he drew sev
eral short breaths and sat down in a heap.
“ Wo told him what 570 knew and advised him
to tell all he knew. He hesitated and asked tho
privilege of conferring an hour with his wife.
We allowed him that, for we knew he would
come back. When he went the conductor want
ed to see his wife an hour. But ‘ Oh, no, you
stay here.’ And he stayed. Well, the old agent
came back in an hour, and told everything. We
then had a dead case against the conductor,
and put him in jail. He got out on bail, and
our case against him was difficult to hold.
“ The question in the trial was an identifica
tion of tickets, and rather than have a long, ex
pensive trial over each ticket, we let him go
with S2OO fine and sixty days in the work-house.
His wife and daughter wore in court, snd set up
such a howl over his work-house sentence that
tho Judge remitted it We also found out that
a young fellow employed by the company was
selling tickets about the depot at Columbus.
He would wink passengers away from the ticket
office window and sell them tickets at reduced
rates. Well, we sent for that fellow, telling him
we had some important work for him to do—
some fine work. He camo, happy and proud,
but his spirits fell when he saw the detective
in tho office.
“‘Understand that you have been selling
tickets on the outside,’ was the first remark.
“ He drew a long breath and said:
“ ‘Yes. I have sold just two?
“ ‘Have you any tickets with you ?’
“ ‘No, not one?
“ ‘You lie? said the detective, and opening
the fellow’s coat, ho drew out twenty-seven
tickets.
“Well, sir, the fellow fainted dead away.
When some water had been thrown in his laco
ho revived, and then I told him:
“ ‘Young fellow, you have had a lesson. Go
back to work, and behave in the future?
“He did so, and is working for the company
yet. Buy him ! You couldn't touch him with a
thousand dollars to-dav. Yes, ho had gotten
the tickets from tho rascally conductor?’
“But you didn’t .keep him?”
“ Well, hardly; nor the ticket agent, either—
only, as the agent was an old man, we didn’t
expose him. We couldn’t prove that the con
ductors on the Eastern line wore in collusion.
They claimed that they passed some ‘friends’ of
th© conductor as a personal favor. But that
conductor tfas a born rascal. He would tackle
passengers who might be going from Cincinnati
to Morrow. If they were going to Xenia or Col
umbus later m th® day he would say, ‘The fare
is so much. I’ll give you a ticket lor so
much,’ naming a less sum. Of course the
passengers would accept, and he would give
them a stop-over check.”
“ And did he save what he stole ?”
“ No, ho was fond of gambling. He and some
other railroaders would meet somewhere in
Cincinnati and play poker quite regularly, and
he generally lost. He was what tho boys called
an “oyster” in card-playing, however slick he
was in robbing the company. When they got
tired of playing poker, they would rig up a faro
layout, and rob him at that scheme. They had
cards puched through so as to tell whether red
or black was coming out next, and the cappers
would play accordingly.”
“Does a follow once bounced ever get work
elsewhere ?”
“ This fellow did. Two years afterward I was
going over an Eastern road, and who should I
see coming in the sleeper but him. He saw mo
from afar, and passed by without a look. He
even forgot to look at my passes. After a while
he got in the corner of the car, and beckoned
for me to come. I went, and ho said :
“ ‘ Don’t givo mo away. I’m going square
now. But tho conductor who comes on next
will see your name on the passes, and ask about
me. Don’t tell him anything?
“Sure enough, when tho next conductor
looked at my passes, ho said :
“ ‘Do you know that fellow who run the train
last night ? Ho was on your road onoe?
“ ‘ Oh, yes, I know him well?
“ ‘ How is ho—straight ?’
“ ‘Ho is a first-class conductor,’ was my re
ply, and I told the truth.
“ ‘But are there not some now methods to
prevent knocking down ?’
“Several plans have been tried, but there is
always some way to beat the game. To persuade
patrons to buy tickets the ton per cent, reduc
tion was mado on the round-trip sales. This
has lost thousands to the companies, and has
not mado the conductors honest. Thon some
Eastern roads tried tho system of charging ten
cents above the usual fare when the passenger
did not hold a ticket. A rebate slip was given
which was good for ten cents at any station of
the company.
“Commercial travelers used these chocks as
tips to bell boys, porters and waiters. I believe
the system has been given up. Of late some
roads have been using the receipt plan. The
passenger paying is given a receipt, and a du
plicate is reserved by tho conductor. Of course
if a conductor fails to give one, may ho not bo
caught by a spotter. But white the percentage
of dishonesty is loss, there is still plenty of it.
Everybody thinks it no sin to beat a railroad
company.
“Every farmer or traveler thinks himsoif
very smart it he beats his way on a train
through the rush or inattention of tho con
ductor. Yet these same fellows go to church,
make long prayers and comb their hair on Sun
day. Verily, it is a strange world, or rather
strange people who live in it. But here we are
with twenty minutes for dinner and everj’body
hungry.” And the thefts of employees, the
cares of managers, and the frailties of men were
all forgotten in the clatter of china, steel and
silver.
THE BOqFaGENT.
THE DISADVANTAGES UNDER
WHICH HE WORKS.
(From the Chicago Herald.
“ I received two orders to-day—one for a full
morocco, the other to got out-,” wrote a can
vasser to a firm of publishers employing him.
“ Aro the orders generally so evenly bal
anced ?” inquired the Herald emissary.
“ That depends on the man, the book, the
territory to be canvassed, th® weather, the
sanitary surroundings, the time of day, tho out
come of the last election, the amount of the
milliner's bill, the condition of trade, and many
other circumstances too numerous to mention,”
was the prompt reply.
The answer was given in a plain, matter-of
fact manner, and the gentleman who gav® it—
the President of one of the largest subscription
book concerns in the country—betrayed no
sense of humor, no displeasure at the visit of
the reporter; no hurry, although he had evi
dently been disturbed in a voluminous corres
pondence. He was equananimity itself, and
courteous withal.
“You would not make a good book agent,”
he added, while the scribe was jotting down his
notes. »
“ That honorable calling has not exactly been
the height of my ambition,” replied the reporter,
“ but may I ask why I am not fit for it ?”
“ Certainly, sir. In the first place you be
trayed, perhaps unconsciously, that you are
bound to take your present task from the ridic
ulous side. Then, I think, you did not get at it
in the right way, and lastly, you evidently think
that you are too good a man to be a book
agent.” This answer was also given without
any irritation, and in a quiet, business-like
tone.
The reporter who had been thua “sized up”
did not feel quite so sure of his theme after he
had been convinced that he would be a com
plete failure as a book agent, Lrut inasmuch as
he thought he discovered something encourag
ing in the gentleman who had so neatly turned
the tables on the interviewer, he asked :
“Have you ever been a book agent?”
“Yes, air, and nearly every one around here.
In fact, a successful canvasser will not remain
tong in that line unless he chooses to. If he is
capable of demonstrating his fitness for that po
sition, he will succeed in any other department
—in short, in anything. You must know that
the days of those book agents who had to be
warned off the premises are going last. No one
wants to buy a book from a person who makes
himself or herself obnoxious, or who is irrespon
sible. In our establishment, for instance,we do
not advertise for canvassers, because there are
not many of tho great number of unemployed
persons who could comply with our conditions.
We employ a large number of men who have
grown up with uw. In the first place, we re
quire a contract for at least six months’ work,
except in the case ot students who want to earn
money during the long vacation. In that case
we conclude contracts for three months’ ser
vices. The contract provides for a bond of SSOO
to b® given, the security to be in ample real es
tate. Then we drill our men for a week or ten
days, so that they have the proper address and
know how to present the advantages of the pur
chase in the proper manner. Alter they have
been sent out, they have to send us daily re
ports of their sates, if any; of the number of
calls they made, the names of the people they
called on, and other information, for which they
are furnished blanks. On our part we guaran
tee not less than $2 a day—in some cases s 3—
salary. If the commission earned by the agent
amounts to more, that, of course, is his profit.”
“Itis a popular error,” remarked another
gentleman who ‘ handles” a large number of
agents, “ that any man who for one reason or
another is out of employment can make a suc
cessful canvasser. Th® fact is that good can
vassers are scarce. A book agent, to be suc
cessful, must be of pleasant address, shrewd
observation, fluent in speech, neat in appear
ance, and musk understand how to accommo
date himself to the peculiarities of his custom
ers. A man who can do that in the right man
ner need not be afraid of the signs: ‘ No book
agents or peddlers allowed on the premises,’
which are so prevalent in our office buildings.
We put our agents through a regular drill;
teacn them how to enter a room, how to ap
proach a person, how to introduce themselves,
how to describe the book they have to sell, and
how to take orders, but this instruction is of
necessity general in its bearings. The busy
merchant must be handled differently from the
man of leisure, and the professional man differ
ently from the illiterate. It is true that one can
vasser is better adapted to approach certain
people than another, but a good canvasser will
be able to sell to the first-class lawyer as well as
to the mechanic.”
Chicago is counted the greatest subscription
book centre in the country, and is consequently
the starting point of an army of canvassers.
The book agent, like the lightning-rod man
and sowing-machine agent, has furnished the
subject for as many “funny” paragraphs as
have ever been perpetrated upon the size of
feet, tho oyster in a church fair stew or the
strawberry festival. His antecedents are gen
erally enveloped in the mantle of charitable in
distinctiveness, and his future is unknown, un
less he blossoms forth as ths shrewd manager
of a publishing concern or a general agent who
lets whole States by contract to novices in the
business. In the cities, students during the
long vacation furnish a large contingent of the
unfortified. In the rural districts young par
sons and school teachers are much sought after
by enterprising publishers. The female can
vasser is quite a success, provided she is a pret
ty girl, but then such a one can sell almost any
thing. Female canvassers are not much affect
ed by the larger establishments, because they
are not near so successful in delivering books
as they are in selling them, and delivery and
collection is the main thing in the vocation of a
canvasser.
Some of the subscription books that went out
from Chicago firms have had almost phenome
nal sales. The “Royal Path of Life ” was sold
in about a million copies at from $3.50 to $5.75,
according to the style of binding. Of the “ Mu
seum ot Antiquity ” over 400,000 copies have
been sold at from $4.50 to $7.50. “ Hill’s Man
ual,” selling from $6.50 upward, has been sold
in 250,0'JG copies, and the number of publica
tions of the Mark Twain and Peck’s “ Bad Boy”
order is almost countless.
attackeFby weasels.
The Remarkable Experience of a North
ern Pennsylvania Farmer.
(From the Lancaster, Pa., Weekly Examiner.)
Delos Lante, an Elk county farmer, has been
annoyed greatly this Winter by weasels in his
poultry yard and houses, the' blood-thirsty lit
tle animals having killed his fowls by tho score,
and defied all efforts to trap them. On Satur
day Mr. Lante was walking through a stony
field on his farm, and saw a weasel run into a
big heap of stones piled loosely in the middle of
the field. He had a walking stick, and, going
to the stone pile began to throw down the stones
to get at the weasel and scare it out.
Presently a weasel jumped out, and he struck
lat it with his cane. It did not run away, but
sprang at Lanto’s throat—the spot a weasel in
stinctively tries to seize. Tho farmer struck at
it again and hit it, but it returned gamely to the
attack, and, whether in answer to a signal or
not the farmer does not know, weasels began to
swarm out of the stone pile on all sides, and in
a second were springing upon Lante, climbing
nimbly up his clothes, trying to reach his face.
They bit him with their sharp teeth, and find
ing that he would be unable to keep the savage
little blood-suckers from fastening their teeth
in his neck without help, he shook them off as
best he could and started at the top of his speed
for home. The weasels followed him until he
scaled the fence. His hands were bleeding
from a dozen wounds, and it he had remained
to fight the weasels they would undoubtedly
have overpowered and killed him.
In the afternoon Mr. Lante returned to the
stone pile with two men, two guns, and a dog.
They routed out the weasels and killed thirty—
a colony which had been devastating the entire
neighborhood for a year and more.
HUMOR OF THE HOUR.
BY THE DETROIT FREE PRE3S FIEND.
A SUGGESTION.
“Were yon over bilked?” ho asked of the boy
who was blacking his boots.
“ Yes’r.”
“ How much ?”
“Don’t remember, sir. The excitement of
borrowing a pistol, and running him down, and
shooting him dead, and giving my testimony
before the coroner so upset me, that I disrecko
lect the amount.
The stranger had his cash ready when the
job was finished.
NO OBJECTIONS.
He was a man considerably past middle-age,
and his fellow-passenger in the oar was a woman
of forty with a market-basket. He moved around
uneasily for a few minutes, and then braced up
and said:
“Madam, lam troubled with chilblains. /It
this very moment my right heel itches so that it
is torment to me to sit here. I would like to—
ask ”
“ Go on, sir,” she replied.
“To ask if you would object should I remove
my boot.”
'“Not in the least, sir—no, sir. lam troubled
with an infernal corn on my right foot, and I
was just wondering why I shouldn’t remove my
shoe and give it a rest. You take that end of
the car and I’ll keep this, and our acquaintance
goes no further.”
TWO KICKERS.
“Just my luck!” he groaned, as he came
down-stairs.
“Lost anything?”
“Everything ! I wanted Brown, on the third
floor, to sign a note with me. When I got on to
the second landing, I met a dog coming down.”
“ And you raised your hat ?”
“ Alas i iio ! I raised my foot.”’
“ And it was Brown’s dog ?”
“It was, and ho was looking over the rail
ing.”
“ 'Why didn't you plead ignorance ?”
“ I did, and so did Brown. Hanged if he
didn’t kick me three times, and then pretend to
find out who I was. Under the circumstances
I couldn’t ask him to sign, you see.”
WAS NOT INTERESTED.
He rang the door-boll of a house on Cass ave
nue, and when the owner himself opened the
door, handed him a sealed envelope.
“ Recipe for the cholera,” ho said, in a brisk,
jerky voice—“ only twenty-five cents.”
“ But, my dear sir, I don t want it,” said the
citizen, drawing back. “I haven’t any use for
it. Cholera is something we never indulge in."
“Take it, and I’ll throw in the celebrated
treatise by the great Dr. 0., ‘How the Cholera
Travels,’in book form.”
“ My friend,” said the Cass avenue man, gen
tly but firmly, “ I don’t care a continental how
the cholera travels—whether it is in book form,
on a steam yacht, or on a palace car. What I
particularly desire just now is to see'you travel.
The agent took the hint and his departure at
the same moment.
WANTED MORE VIGOR.
“ Have you got what dey calls alarm clocks?”
he was asking of a Woodward avenue jeweler
the other day.
“ Yes, sir.”
“ How does it alarm?”
“Rings a bell.”
“ Am dat all ?”
“Isn’tthat enough? Few people can sleep
with that bell ringing away like a burglar
alarm.”
“ Sorry, boss, but no sich trifle as dat will do
fur my cabin. I wanted a clock dat would pull
ha’r, yell like an Injun, yank de bed-clothes off,
an’ frow down de bedstead. When my ole wo
man gits ter sleep, she ain’t gwine to let go fur
no bell-ringin’. Eben when I frow ice water
ober her, she simply changes off from dream
in.’ about white bosses an’ goes to droumin’ of
black cats.”
ON THE SAFE SIDE.
“ Tom ! Tom 1” yelled a boy on Griswold
street yesterday to another a block away—
“ come hero as fast as ever you can ! Here’s a
boy up the alley who has found a nickel I”
“ What of it ?” queried the other as he came
up.
“ Let’s take it away from him.”
“ Sure there ain’t a holo punched in it?”
“ Dead sure.”
“ Is he a big boy ?”
“No—smaller’n us. Conie on.”
“ Say, don’t you be in such a hurry,” cau
tioned the other. “If the nickel is all right,
and we kin lick the boy that’s so much fur our
side, but let’s circle around a little. Maybe he’s
a chap who’s got political influence, and belongs
to our party. Things is right down clus in poli
tics, and we don’t want anybody to bolt our
nominations.”
IT IS NO USE.
He looked in at the door, saw six or eight
men around the stove, and then he drew back
to arrange his toilet. In his belt were two re
volvers. Down the back of his neck was a
bowie-knife. In his eye the lightning lurked,
and around his mouth was an expression to
freeze the blood. When ho entered the saloon
it was with a war-whoop which should have
lifted every man a foot high, but no ofae moved.
When he advanced to the bar and asked for a
glass of double-and-twisted death at forty rods,
his voice and manner should have driven the
bar-tender down through the floor, but he didn’t
sink an inch.
“This is my day for gore!” bellowed the
stranger as he held up the glass and surveyed
the audience.
Nobody seemed to care.
“Who put Tiger Jack under the sod ?” he de
manded in an awiul voice.
Nobody answered.
“ Who run Bloody Pete out of Deadwood ?
Who made Awful Smith take water at Denver ?”
One man said something about the weather,
but no one minded the inquiry.
“ And I’ve come down from the mountains to
get a dozen scalp-locks for a new table-cloth 1”
howled the stranger. “ I want a dozen—’levan
wouldn’t do me ! Whoop ! whoopee I”
At this point one of the men who had been
trying to catch a nap got up and walked over
to the stranger and took him by the ear and
led him to the door and gave him a lift. As he
returned to his chair one of the crowd inquired:
“ Who was be ?”
“Dunno, but he made me tired,” was the re
ply, and the entire affair dropped without
another word.
Good-by, Catamount Sam, Panther Jack and
Buckskin Bill! You’ve had your day. It’s no
use ringing up the curtain on empty benches.
THE WEED.
The Fragrant and the Foul Cigars
Smoked in Publio Places.
(From the Chicago News.)
“ Oh, yum-yum I don’t blow the emoke of
that ‘levee ’ cigar in my face I” said the driver
of a Wentworth avenue car to a juvenile tough
who had jumped on in the neighborhood of
Clark and Harrison streets, and he gave a very
contemptuous sniff.
“ You seem to be pretty well posted about ci
gars, if you can distinguish the various brands
at first smell,” said a Daily News reporter,
whom adverse circumstances and an Alder
manic cigar had temporarily transferred to a
place on the platform.
“ Pretty well, pretty well,” replied the man.
“ Yer see, a man gets ter phillersophizin’ if he
sees all kinds of people and smells all kinds of
smoking material next ter him day after day.
Now. I bet I can distinguish pretty well between
what’s called a ‘stinker’ and a decent cigar.
That fellow gets his’n from ‘Dago Tony,’ I’ll
bet a copper, for there ain’t another man in Chi
cago that dares to sell such a dilapidated cab
bage leaf at three cents apiece. Now, I’ve
found out a good deal since I first took to driv
ing on these cars. There’s what I call the
‘ Biler avenoo ’ cigar — expensive but poor;
there’s the ‘ business ’ cigar—cheap, but tolera
ble; there’s the ‘open-air’ cigar—never to ba
smoked in a room; there’s the common bar
room cigar—very bad; the ‘ 10-cent-straight—
not as good as the threa-for-a-quarter one;
there’s the hotel cigar—cornea high, but is not
bad: the ‘ club cigar,’ which I don't often got a
smell of—good and steep; the ‘ private box * ci
gar, rich and rare; the ‘ Wentworth avenue ci
gar,’ which is the one I mostly have to endoor
—that, at least, is an honest, unpretentious ci
gar—puro cabbageleaf, wrapped in brown pa
per.”
The driver hero pulled out a very volumin
ous cotton handkerchief of a bright red, and
then performed the trumpet-call. When the
echoes he thus evoked had died away, he re
sumed :
“ I don’t pretend ter say that this is all the
varieties of cigars there is in thia town. 1 sup
pose there’s more of’em ; in fact, I know there
is. The Dearborn avenue cigar is a different
brand to the La Salle or the Prairie avenoo
cigar, and etceterum. But them kinds I men
tioned is what I have to encounter mostly on
my daily trips. No thanks,” ho said, when'the
writer wanted to donate to him the mate of his
own sample of industry, I don’t smoke—l chew.
But, as I said before, I've somewhat slightly
studied the question. Now, I could give you
material for a good noosepaper article, and if I
could figger as some can I should have put it
down myself. Now, you just watch the people
of this city. Did you ever see a place on the
habitable globe where they smoke more ? Naw.
Everybody smokes—the kids and the old tins.
Now, what I don’t understand is that cigarette
smoking. When a man smokes a pipe he gets
the taste of tobacco, good or bad, according to
the price he’s paid. When a man smokes a
cigar he gets still more tobacco, strong, weak,
or middlin’. But what does he get from a cigar
ette? Paper smoke, which isn’t good for the
insides. I think there ought to be a law ’gainst
cigarettes. Yer see, even the women have
picked it up of late years. You just walk along
the whole levee any day, an’ you'll see lots o’
women a-smoking cigarettes. No wonder they
looks so pale an’ used up ! I’ve been to con
cert halls over here on the South Side, and Eva
seen women smoking cigarettes there—real, re
spectable women, soma of them. And as for
the kids, why, they’re all dead stuck on them
paper tilings, from the newsboys and messen
ger boys up to the six-dollars-a-woek dude with
the cane.
“ I don’t know what they got inside the pa
pers, but what I mostly smell irom the cigar
ettes is more like burning leather than any
thing else. Now*, I’d sooner have anything else
near me. Now, along late in the afternoon,
when the workmen are riding home on my car,
and the platform is packed as tight as sardines.
I tell you they olton produce a pretty powerful
smell—a dozen pipes or so a-goin’, and none of
’em much like cologne. But they all seem to
en oy it, and I prefer their tobacco smoke
to the cigarette. You got to get off hero?
Ta-ta!”
“ What is most smoked in Chicago—cigars or
a pipe?” repeated the tobacconist, reflectively.
“ Well, I don’t know. “ There isn’t any statis
tics out about that—the census man overlooked
it. But from my experience, I think there are
more cigars than pipes smoked. A great many
men smoke nothing but cigars, such as sports,
the financial men, the business men, the bro
kers, the speculators, the storekeepers, the
clerks and bookkeepers. Oh, but I forgot the
cigarettes. There is more of them smoked
than of cigars in the city. A large dealer tol’d
mo the other day how Urge the trade in cigar
ettes is in Chicago. I forgot the exact number,
but I know it was several hundreds of millions
a year. Of course, a good deal goes into the
country, where they smoke more of iheso little
things, comparatively speaking, than we do—l
suppose on account of their being cheap. How
high do Chicago cigars and smoking tobacco
range in price ? Cigars all the way from sev
enty-five cents a hundred to SIOO, and tobaccc
from twenty cents a pound to up to $7 a pound.
The finest brands of Turkish range highest.”
WHAT A YOUNG SAILOR PROPOSED
TO USE AS A DELICACY.
(From the San Francisco Examiner.)
“ Well! well I I’ve laughed over that epi
sode many and many s lime,” remarked one ot
the most celebrated of chief stewards, now in
the employ of the Pacific .Mail Company, to an
Examiner reporter the other day, referring to
an adventure of his on the China coast. “ You
see I was thirteen years old and had been at
sea for two years. It was then in 1862, and I
was cabin boy on the steamship Dragon, plying
between ports on the China coast. Young as I
was, during my two years at sea, I had ac
quired much of the shrewdness that is supposed
to bo characteristic of my calling. One night
while in the harbor of Hong Kong—it was the
night before we intended to sail for Shanghai—
while I was loafing about ths decks, having per
formed all the duties required of me and drink
ing in the glories of a most beautiful night, al
though dark and solemn-like, I was approached
by the bo’swain. He came up to me and broke
in upon the dreamland through which I was
buoyantly floating.
“ ‘Jimmy,’ says he, ‘I want you to give me a
hand to-night to get something aboard. It is
something strictly forbidden. So hold your
tongue and help us, and we won’t be far from
doing the right thing by you. You watch on
the port side. When you see a boat coming
alongside pass the word to ma or the chief
officer, or the chief engineer, or the chief
steward, lor we are all in it.’
“My curiosity was excited, and without further
talk I agreed to do as I was bidden. As I said
before, the nights at this time were very dark.
I wondered what was m the wind, and with
baited breath continued to closely scan the
water in search ot the expected craft. About 10
o’clock, through the gloom, I perceived a boat
approaching. I hastened to the chief steward
and told him of it. He passed, the word to the
bo’swain. By this time the boat had come
alongside. The bo’swain was on deck. Says
he to me:
“ ‘ Jimmy, you must stand by to give us a
hand with this.’
“ I said all right, and thereupon we com
menced hauling up a lot of ginger jars, some
large and some small. These we passed down
into the hold, where they were stowed away.
Now I was very fond ot preserved ginger and
chow-chow, and, with youthful precocity, de
termined to take a jar. When no one was
watching I did take one, and hid it under the
oornor of the tarpaulin cover of the steam winch
on deck, just forward the bridge. I presumed
the jar contained ginger or chow-chow, but did
not know. I made an attempt to open it, but
my heart failed mo. I didn’t like to ask any
one what it contained, as I had stolen it. Still,
if it was ginger, I was going to havo some, and
undoubtedly that was what it was. The stew
ard, under whom I worked, was a miserable
fellow, and never allowed me any delicacies
whatever. So you can imagine I Wss only too
delighted to bo the possessor of a whole jar of
contraband stuff. I finally mustered up cour
age enough to pall off the cover. I put my
fingers in and pulled out a piece which I hastily
crammed in my mouth. I chewed it, but found
it salt, so I spat it out. Really it wasn’t ginger,
but what was it ? I determined to find out, but
in the meantime stuck to the jar. I wont below
into the forehold, where I found the bo’swain
stowing the other jars away. Says I, ‘What is
iu them jars, bo’swain ?’
“ ‘Why do you want to know ?’
“‘Oh, nothing,’says I, ‘only they look like
chow-chow or pickled ginger jars.’
“‘Yes,’says he, ‘they are preserved ginger
jars, without a doubt, but they don’t contain
preserved ginger. If I tell you, you will never
tell any one else ?’
“1 promised, and, continuing, he said:‘Jim
my, this thing is strictly forbidden. If lam
found out in it 1 will get seven years’ imprison
ment.’ „
“ I begged him to keep me in suspense no
longer, and to apprise me ot the contents of the
mysterious jars.
“He was standing beside a large jar. Reach
ing toward this, he unfastened the lid, and,
taking it off, ran his arm down into it. Ho
pulled out the head of a Chinaman by thequoue
and held it up to my view. I tell back on the
deck in a dead faint. When I came to, the
bo’swain was bending over me.
“ ‘Now tell me why you were so anxious to
know about the jars,’ said ho.
“With trembling tones I told him what I had
done. He then told mo that I had been eating
pickled Chinaman. I was horrified, but braced
up sufficiently to listen to his further explana
tion, which was to the effect that at that time it
was strictly forbidden to take corpses from
Hong Kong to Shanghai. A wealthy Shanghai
merchant had died in Hong Kong, and his rela
tives desired his body brought' home. They
had hit upon the plan of pickling it, and had
bribed the ship’s officers to take the jars to
Shanghai. This was subsequently done, but
you can rest assured that never after that have
I had any hankering after preserved ginger.”
amerwaFfables.
CONSIDERABLY AFTER THE PER
SIAN.
DANGEROUS FRIENDSHIP.
A Lamb who was Pursued by & Welf sought
the Protection of the Elephant, but tho Groat
Behemoth, while assuring tho Fugitive that ha
should be Protected at any cost of Blood and
Treasure, Accidentally trod upon him and In
flicted Fatal Injuries.
“ Alas 1” gasped tho Lamb, as he yielded up
his life, “it would have been no worse had the
Wolf eaten me.”
moral:
Our Friends sometimes do us More Damage
than our Enemies.
A BOW AMONG THE INSECTS.
A Hornet was washing his wings in the Sun,
when along came an Ant and called out:
“ How now, useless ? You neither Labor nor
Produce anything for the Benefit of tho World.”
“ And your Industry. Mrs. Ant, is simply an
Annoyance to Mankind,” put in the Grasshop
per.
“ The same to you,” called the Beetle. “ You
are a Worker, but in a bad cause.”
“And I never could Understand,” observed
the Horse-Fly, “ what on earth the Beetle was
created for.”
“ Probably to keep such Trash as you compa
ny,” replied the Cricket.
"The Potato-Bug, Mosquito,Woodtick and Moth
chimed in, and the How had become general,
when the Owl camo along and called the Con
vention to order, and said:
“ There is so little good in any of you, accord
ing to each other’s charges, that I will take the
whole Crowd in for Dinner.”
moral:
A Family Bow always Fattens Outsiders.”
— »
Ona day last week, when tha engines
were flying down Washington street in response to
an alarm of fire, a man who was running was stop
ped by an eager citizen in search of information, who
asked hurriedly of him: “ What's a-fire ?” To which
the other angrily replied: “What's a fire? Why
something in a state of combustion, you fool I Look
at your dictionary I"
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