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The herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1893-1900, February 18, 1894, Image 10

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Among tbe new books from the Mac
millan company of New York is found
The Delectable Duchy, by tbe well
known author "Q."
Short stories are becoming more and
more in vogue, and the writers of short
stories seem daily to get more clever.
Perhaps their cleverness is a little too
obvious, their art a little too conscious.
At any rate, one has a lurking want of
satisfaction after reading most short
stories. In their dread of saying too
much and their terror of "a moral,"
these clever writers often say
too little; and meaning to be
suggestive, become merely in
effective. Probably the short story is
a form of literature that requires an in
born and congenital aptitude. Aud this,
if any man. "Q." seems to possess. His
successes are not few and rare; in his
latest volume at any rate nearly all of
the 25 stories are as good as tbey can be.
Naughts and Crosse: were admirable,
indeed: but some of them compelled
admiration for their cleverness without
making us wish to read them again.
The beat of these newer stories, how
ever, not only make ns wish to reread
them, they make ns actually do so. And
when the book is closed tbey remain
with us. For The Delectable Duchy lain
every way an advance; "Q." has widened
his range, deepened his vision, matured
bis style. There are no longer echoes of
assimilated masters. Now and then, it
ia trne, more especially, perhaps, in
Woon Gate, in The Paupers, in The
Drawn Blind, one is reminded ol Mr.
Thomas Hardy, bnt in no way as by an
imitation. The art of either is inimita
ble, and possibly the resemblance is
really in the likeness of subject and of
method —not in the view of things nor
in the actual writing. There is no need
to compare the Delectable Duchy with
the Wessez Tales, bat we mast confess
to often finding preference with Q
If anything strikes one more than an
other in this collection, it ia its extraor
dinary range. From Daphnls, a story
of the old snperstltion of love charms,
alive with deep, suppressed passion, we
pass to the humor, touched with poetry,
and, in its conclusion, with a kind of
tender irony, of Cuckoo Valley Railway,
or from the delicious fun of St. Pirau to
the profonnd pathos of Woon Gate and
A Golden Wedding, or the strange sug
gestiveness of A Corrected Contempt.
Love of Naomi, the longest story in tbe
book, is not quite so convincing a success,
probably because tbe motive, that of
"Enoch Arden," is not fresh to ns;
that Long Oliver's share in the
plot seems a weak point. And
yet how excellently are brought
t< gather William Geake, the grave, con
scientious man of religion, overthrown
by his great passion, and Abe Bricknell,
tbe returned first husband, his wits half
gone from shipwreck and suffering, with
his "silly smile." Mr. Stevenson could
tot have bettered the latter's descrip
i v of what happened to bim in the
open boat and on the island. More
characteristic of the author is such a
story as Mr. Punch's Understudy, of
sthioh to reveal the motive might spoil
i metning of the reader's pleasure. In
fine this is a book to bny, to read, to re
member and to be grateful for.
C. H. Engle of Hartford, Mich., has
issued one of the most unexpected and
unique contributions tbat was made to
tbe Colombian celebration. Tha title
of tha book is, Tbe Bed Man's Colom
bian (ireeting, by Chief Pokagon, an
Indian of high character, who is chief
of tha Pottawatomies, as his father was
before him. The leaves ara ef birch
bark instead of paper, and the senti
ment, although Pokagon knew and ad
mired President Lincoln, is that of un
relieved regret tbat tha white man aver
reached America. Tbe antbor looks
backward, gnidad by tba traditions of
his race, to the time when his
people ware free and happy; sometimes
they fell to fighting, but tba pale face
should ba tha lastto cast stones at them
for this. Tha author's diction is often
poatio, and his English is clear and
good; indeed,Pokagon is a better schol
ar than most of his white neighbors, for
he knows much Greek and Latin. At
. this late day it would be impossible to
, restore the old life for whicb tba Indian
longs, but tha book should do much
f ood by stimulating tbe spirit of justics
n wbita man and women, so that all
efforts for tha betterment of the Indi
an's -condition may be supported by
public sentiment.
From Scribner's Sons comsa a dainty
volume of literature. From the pen of
an author always welcome in memory
of former visits, comes the new volume
by Augustine Birrell, the fourth in the
series, Essays About Men, Women and
Books. Mr. Birrell's remarks from tbe
bench were never either prolix or ag
gravating to the rank and tile of special
pleaders, each convinced before tbe
judge's charge c but these short talks out
of court are qnita as charming aa any of
the dicta or tha judicial decisions. Mr.
Birreil begins with an essay on Dean
Swift, remarking that though almost
everybody takes a turn at the Dean of
St. Patrick's, there is still plenty of sug
gestion left for others to follow.
La Kgrees with Thackeray's estimate ot
wit, pointing out that nobody did
justice to his admirable qualities,
iching Hannah More, the essayist is
suaded, in tha face of violent argn
• on tbe other aide, tbat "her works
19 volumes are worth 8 •hillings and
r:if," which sum he has lately in
ted tuns, greatly to the scandal of
■of his cultivated friends. Ue pro
jm his belief, however, that "tha
lied Mrs. Hannah More is one of
:h« moat detestable writers who ever
"!d a pan," going en to say tbat
bs is not intellectually original,
that "bar religion lacks
.ility." Vat ba admits tbat
,ba bad har uses. At laaat aha waa not
i wrapped up in harsall as Maria
IJasbkirUeff, whom tha essayist blames
.a tbat acoount. Mr. Birrell, writing
I Sir John Vaaburgh, finds these
words of apology for a cheerful play
house: "If it had fallen to tha lot of St.
Pe.nl t* adit Shakespeare, what cort of a
job would ha have mads of it? (Jan a
' really sincere Ohristain enjoy relates:
|to the fall? Now that Evan-
I gelicalism has gone out of
fashion, we no longer hear denuncia
tion of stage plays," and many like
words, which seem, sometimes, to prove
almost too much. In bis consideration
|of John Gay, Mr. Birrell sums
i him np thus : He is buried
at Westminster abbey, over against
i Chaucer. When all Hue rubbish
'is carted away from the abbey to make
room for tbe great men and women of
tbe twentieth century. Gay will prob
ably be accounted just good enough to
stay where he is. He always was a
lucky fellow, though he had not the
grace to think so." There are many
other good words in the hook—about
Dr. Johnson and Roger North, book
binding, Doets laureate, parliamentary
candidates, Americanisms and Brit
icisms, wherein he stands up for
Mr. Brander Matthews and cries in
effect: "O, my lord, if I spell 'honour'
with a 'n' and you don't, must one of
us surely die?"
Messrs. Apple'ton & Co. have pub
lished, under the title of The Romance
of an Empress, an English translation
of the life of Catherine 11. of Russia,
originally written in the French by R.
Waliezewikl. Tbe circulation ot this
book is, it seems, prohibited in Russia,
but it is not easy to see why, for it is
not only an appreciative, but even a
sympathetic, biography. It is undoubt
edly tbe most exhaustive and authentic
study of a remarkable personality which
has ever appeared. Materials, indeed,
for a trustworthy account of Catherine
were only recently accessible; now, on
the contrary, out of 72 volumes ol doc
uments already published br the Rus
sian Imperial Historical society, all but
20 are directly concerned with tbe his
tory of her reign. There are sources
of information soattered in obscure Rus
sian periodicals, or buried in the arch
ives of Russia and France, wbich have
never before been conenlted but to
wbich recourse has here been made.
The book is well called a romance, for,
although no legends are admitted in it,
and tbe author has been at pains
to present nothing but verified
facts, tbe actual career of the subjsct
was so abnormal and sensational as to
ssem to belong to fiction. Whether we
consider the extraordinary contradic
tions in Catherine's character, or the
bewi.dering vicissitudes in her experi
ence, we may well feel that she pertains
rather to mythology than to history;
yet, when we read her correspondence,
we cannot bnt see that this woman
was, in truth, intensely modern and
would probably understand our own
time better than we do theenviaonment
in which she lived. It is remarkable
that an obscure little German girl should
have become empress of Russia, but far
more remarkable that she should have
been tbe motive power of much progress
at tbe time wben Frederick the Great
and Voltaire were enlightening their
Robert Bonner's Sons have a new
novel by Nataly Yon Bscbstrutb, author
of A Priestess of Comedy entitled Count
ess Dynar or Polish Blood. The illus
trations are by Jamea Fagan. Tbe read
ers of Nataly Yon Eschßtruth'. novels
will find thnro fnllof rpmi" ,ti < ; 9° ntlßoel ' t
tbat takes one completely out of the
ordinary atmosphere and situations oi
common life. There is a swing to her
style, a contagions enthusiasm and ex
travagance in her descriptions and a
freshness in tbe emotions and passions
of her characters, which command tbe
attention, excite tbe feelings and ab
sorb tbe interest of every reader. All
who have read Tha Priestess of Comedy
will appreciate tbe truth of what we
say. Countess of Dynar is a book of
most unusual beauty. The illustrations
are admirably illustrative of the scenes
and characters.
Fleming H. Revell company of New
York city are to be commended for pub
lishing Reality Versus Romance in
South Central Africa, by James John
ston, M. D. This ia one of the moat ori
ginal contributions to tbe literature
of African travel. Tbe author is an
American physician who spent 20 years
in the island of Jamacia. Being a
Christian and philanthropist, also a
thinker, as well as a close student of tbe
physical aide of human natnre, it oc
curred to him that perhaps the Chris
tianized and intelligent blacks of Jama
cia would be good material from
wbich to select missionaries
for work in the dark continent. He
therefore organized an expedition at his
own expense, taking with him six
Jamacians, and he crossed South Cen
tral Africa by a route nearly 5000 miles
long. He makes tbe highly honorable
boast tbat although be went through
many Bavage tribes and nations, some
of wbom bad never before seen a white
man, he did no slaying of human beings,
nor did be lose a single member of his
own party thraugh violence or death.
One result of his wisdom and forbear
ance is tbat his book lacks tba adventure
and excitement of some records ol
African travel. Tbe most interesting
portions of tbe text are the author's
criticisms of existing mission methods
in Africa. He has little faith in the
Ohristianization of tbe blacks by tbe
usual course of preaching and teaching,
and urges that civilizing agencies should
be used first, long, and in spita oi tbe
many discouragements that are inevit
able. Missionary societies will not like
tbe tone of tbe book, yet the writer's
Christian spirit is earnest, and his ex
perience among tbe natives backs his
opinions strongly. The illustrations de
serve high commendation. There are 50
of them, all of full-page size, and made
directly from photographs taken by tbe
author. Tbey are not mere "half
tones," either, but good photogravures,
aud almost all the subjects are natives,
among them being the noted King
Kbania. A good route map accom
panies the volume.
All the above books for sale by the Stoll <lt
Thayer oompaoy, 139 South Spring street.
Straight Talk.
A certain employer of this city was
compelled to lay off a large number oi
employees, and he did it in this way: "I
am sorry that I wiU have to lay you off.
I know that you need the work and can
not afford to be idle. But it is your
own fault. Van voted to throw your
serves oat of employment by voting the
Democratic and Republican ticket...
Don't blame anybody but yourselves.
You have made your own bed, and yon
must lie in it." Pretty straight talk
from an employer. If every employer
in the United States would talk that
way to his workman, something woulO
drop at the next election.— davelaun
He Animadverts Upon the
White Man's Creeds.
An Incident Recalled by Dr. Jordan's
Iteeent Lectures.
■\ SMlvm Calfforntan Holds Forth In an
Eloquent Manner Upon Some
Very Abstruse Sub
"The recently published lectures on
evolution end tbe derivation of mnn by
Professors Le Oonte end Jordan, re
minds me so forcibly of a similar lecture,
but from an entirely different source,
tbat I bad tbe pleasure of listening to
one warm day last summer tbat I con
cluded to give it to you," said Mr. A.
(i. Tingman of Indio to a Herald re
porter yesterday.
"I was on my way to look over tbe
San Jacinto range on tbe higher moun
tains, which are covered with snow in
winter. We left Indio early one after
noon and camped at Old Chihuahua's
camp just below Torros. We bad hardly
got our coffee started when old Ohihnv
bua put in bis appearance. I have
known the old man for years and often
heard him tell how be had gone north
with the Spaniards and was working for
Capt. John A. Sutter, herding cattle,
when Oro Primero waa first brought
down. I invited him to have a cup of
coffee with us. After we bad finished
the coffee we lit our cigarettes and
stretching ourselves nnder a large ines
quite tree, onr conversation drifted to
Old Chihuahua talks good Spanish,
and he has been high priest of tbe Co
huilla mission Indians for years. After
the breaking np of the mission, the In
dians of this valley were left entirely to
themselves as far as religion was con
cerned, aud the old man got what be
learned at the missions. I saw him
officiate at tbe cremation of the old
chief, Cabezon, some nine years ago.
Formerly tbey worshiped tbe sun, and
as tbey oame by heat and light, so they
must retnrn. Old Chihnabua said:
"The grasses cannot grow under a
stone, nor a tree in a cave, and all good
Indiana welcome the sun as he appears
in the morning, and bids him good bye
as he disappears, begging him to return
again, that tbey may live and prosper,
Tbe whit* man's religion is very bad.
Tbe way he lives is very bad, and he
dies yonng. Did my dog run away and
leave me wben you came, and go with
you? No; he remained to protect me,
his friend. Once I bad a good claim
way up north, and I dug lots of gold,
and white men who I tbonght were my
friends said I waa a horsethief, and were
going to bang me, and I ran away and
they took my claim; got all the gold.
"White men will do anything for gold
—that's tbeir religion. The white man
when he is old and gray thinks he knows
more than anyone, but he don't; the
inside of bis bead is old and worn out,
and be talks and talks, and hia words
are like the wind in the trees, for they
are nothing and they never come true.
But the little child, whan be will talk,
knows what is best, for bis bead is new
and not worn out. See the burro and
tbe cow and some other animals; tbey
kfipw.more than all the white men at
One time, uui ... . ....
could only live, for when tbey knew bo
much they only suffered more, and suf
fered in more ways than any animals
tbat lived on this whole earth, so they
just quit and went to eating graSß, for
life was all they could have."
"And the old man of an unknown age
tottered off to his brush wickiup, and as
tbe sun disappeared over the San Jacinto
range we could hear him and hia family
chanting tbeir evening prayer, begging
old Sol to return on tbe morrow ; and my
mind turns to a poem written by an old
desert prospector some years ago:
"Go forth" said the sun to a ray of light
That for aeons had lata on its breast,
"Of light and life from world to world
Be thou the bearer bltst."
Down past the morning star It flew
And lighted on earth on the glistening dew.
Reflected here, refracted there,
It shimmered and glistened everywhere.
It visit-d all the baunt< of men.
Lookel into misery's noisome den,
Lost in the city's filth and mire.
Found again In th j furnace fi re.
Refracted here, reflected there,
It shimmered and glistened everywhere.
It told the tale of hate and scorn.
It dyed the rosy clouas of m iru,
It shove on many a precious g-im,
It gleamed on a royal diadem,
It bore love's glances to beauty's eyes,
It painted evening's purple skies,
it glanced along the polar anow,
And lingered in the tropic's glow.
And cleaving again the vault of blue,
From star to star it onward flaw.
Where the vim ou of man oan never pierce
To the nebulous pales ot the universe,
Bearing light aud life wherever it went.
It again returns from whence 'twas sent,
where rest eternal ends its wearied flight*
In the life of life in the light of light.
Bo thy spirit, O man. when its destiny's filled,
Though it hide in a body of shsme,
Thongh it burn in passion*, red flame.
On the journey Omnipotence willed;
Yjt pure a* it comes, so untaruinhed it goes;
And returning again to the uod whence it
came, *
Will la glory eternal repose.
A Fruit Which Transmit! Its Bweet Qoal-
Itlw to Those Who Cat) It.
Washington Poat: The romance of
the banana should become a matter of
popular knowledge if people would have
tbeir full moneys worth out of it aa an
article of subsistence. It ie always wise
to cater to tbe mind and to tickle the
senses the while you gorge the stomach.
There is a better flavor to the orange
because of tbe balm breathing groveß
that rise up in mental vision. Undoubt
edly we relish cottolene and kindred
products of tbe cotton field because of
the old plantations white with snowy
fabric and picturesque with bappy
darkeys, generally of a minstrel turn,
all in close proximity to the big river
steamers with double smokestacks.
The banana has a remarkable and at
tbe same time a beautiful history. It
sees better days than being jolted about
tbe city in a push cart and looging
at nigh t in tba sweltering Italian quarter.
The poet Holmes haa commented upon
the soft and mellow voice oi the negro
as tbe result of generations of banana
eating, and compared it with tbe harsh
and nasal notes oi those whose home
has been on tbe wind swept hills oi
colder climates, where people drive
shrewd bargains. They also have a
beneficent icflusnce upon tbe disposi
tion, and no one can forecast the excel
lent results that are possible in the way
of awaetar tempers, and in other direc
tions affecting temperaments if the
enormous importations of the fruit with
slippery peel continue for a century.
"Probably there ia nothing," said
Mr. Simpson oi'tbe Smithsonian insti
tution, "that represents better the great
power of nature than a growing field of
bananas. It is a magnificent sight.
The Dlant prows tliesize of a large man's
body and 25 feet high. It requires but
10 or 18 months for tbe gigantic plant to
grow. The leaves shoot out 14 or 15 feel
from the stalk, are a soft pea green color
and are beautiful and delicate. The
edges are perfectly entire when the leaf
first comes out, but it is feather veioeu
and the slightest wind cuts them in
to hundreds of slips, which wave and
rustle and riae and fall. The poetry of
the undulating wheat field ia not to be
compared with the beauty of these wav
ing leaves. A marvelous thing about
these trees in that they are as soft as a
pumpkin vine. Tbe natives with tbe
machete, or caber, which everyone car
ries, are able to slash down the tower
ing tree with one fell stroke.
"On the etump of the fallen tree one
can behold a marvel of nature's power
wbich ont marvels tbe jugglers of India
and their feat with tbe famous mango
tree. These big trees grow to maturity
in about 15 months, and they grow from
the inside, like the palm and canes and
grasses, but unlike tbe oak and other
trees, which grow by successive layers
added from the outside. When the tree
is cnt off one can actually ace the tree
grow, the leavea unfolding from the in
side as rapidly as the hands of a watch.
I bad heard that this was true and took
occasion to verify it. Kingtley men
tions this curious exhibition of nature's
strength in his Christmas in the West
Waterproofing Cloth.
An account is given in Romen's
Journal of Doring's process for water
proofing cloth, by which such satisfac
tory results aro obtained, when the tis
sue ia subjected to a precipitate of salts
of the fatty acids. Tho cloth is passed
into a special machine, in which it is
saturated with aluminium acetate, dried
and passed into a soap beck. A basic
compound being necessary, equal
weights of salts of aluminium and lend
are employed, and care is taken not to
introduce too largo quantities of free
acid with the aluminium sulphate, since
the latter contains always a certain
quantity of sulphuric acid, which, dur
ing desiccation, displaces the acetic
acid. To avoid this inconvenience, tbey
are added par liter from 10 to 80 grams
of soda. The most favorable tempera
ture ia 50 degrees, and steam heat direct
is avoided. In preparing the soap hath
the fact is utilized that an aqueous so
lution of soap forms true solutions with
mixtures of fat and resins, was, min
eral oils, and even caoutchouc, and to
this end a 10 per cent solution of gum
Paraguay in oil of turpentine is taken.
The proportions employed for a square
meter of cloth are 80 grams tallow
soap, 25 japan wax, 1.5 gum Paraguay,
1 gram good varnish. The wax is
first melted, tho gum and varnish add
ed, and for each kilo of solid is put 0.5
grams of a solution, saturated in beat,
of potassium sulphide. The mixture is
stirred and boiled, when snlphureted
hydrogen is liberated; a boiling solu
tion of soap is added, when the hath is
fit for use.
Caantballstlo Scorpions.
During many years of scorpion hunt
ing I never remember to have seen two
individuals living togetherin amity.and
even their more tender relations are
tainted ut times with the unamiable
habit of cannibalism. The males are
decidedly smaller than their mates,
"caution. ll' tijf iMI 'Ymi"
morata doesn't liko tho looks of her ad
vancing suitor she settles the question
offhand by making a murderous epring
at him, catching him in her claws,
stinging him to death, and making a
hearty meal off hnu. This is scarcely
loverlike. On the other hand, if a du
bious wife, the female scorpion is a de
voted mother. Shu hatches her eggs in
her own oviduct, brings forth her young
alive—unliko her relations, the spiders
—and carries them about on her hack,
to the number of 50, during tbeir in
nocent childhood, till they aro of an
age to shift for themselves in the strug
gle for existence.—Cornhill Magazine.
Traveling In Ancient India.
Journeys in India a century ago were
sleepy, lengthy and withal expensive
luxuries. It was naturally a serious
business to got to and from Europe, and
masters of sailing vessels were, it seems,
inclined to make their charges exorbi
tant to their luckless passengers. The
honorable East India company, in its
paternal relation to its servants, issued
warnings, commands and regulations
on the subject, but apparently with lit
tle result. At last a table was drawn
up, wherein it was stated that, while
general officers should pay £250 for their
passage, an ensign should only pay
£105 and a cadet £70. Commanders
were warned that if by any wajs or
means, directly or indirectly, they
Bhould take or receive further sums of
money for the same they should pay to
the company, for the use of the Poplar
hospital, treble the sum so taken.—
Mrs. Field's New Venture.
Young Mrs. Cyrus W. Field says to a
New York reporter of her new business
venture: "lam employed by the Sherman
bank to solicit deposits among ladies of my
acquaintance. lam perfectly charmed
with the work and so far have been suc
cessful. I wish you would emphatically
deny that my name will be connected
with any millinery firm. I don't know
exactly how much my millinery ventnro
will have cost me, but I am working
now to regain thai lo3S and earn a live
Novel Neckgear.
The latest novelty in neckgear is a
long scarf of black ribbon about two fin
gers wide, finished on each end with a
deop ruffle of cream white lace. This
scarf is put around tho neck from the
front toward the back, crossed there
and brought in front to tio again in a
big bow with ends that come to tho lx>t
tom of the waist, and it is intended to
be worn around the threat under the
coat. When the coat is unfastened, the
effect is very jaunty.—Chicago News.
Knyalty on Wheels.
Princess Mary Adelaide has had for
some years so much to say in fa/or of
cycling that she has prevailed upon the
queen to order two machines for her
granddaughters, the Princess Irene and
Alix of Hesse. The Princess of Wales
bought another for a birthday preseni
for one of her daughters, and the Prin
cesses of Lome and Beatrice both ride
their wheels through the grounds at Bal
moral.—London Grontlewoman.
The wood bird calls, the shadows flee.
The sun comee golden from the sea;
Across the meadow aa I stray
For you I tako the fern fringed way.
To gather violets wet with dew
Which only bloom, my love, for yon—
For you, my love, alone for you!
The grasses bend, the dewdrops shire,
The hawthorn's breath la sweet aa wine;
The soft wind steals with presence sweet
To fling white petals at my feet
And lift the leaves from violets blue.
Hidden to wait, tuy love, for you—
For you, my love, alone for youl
Bine as your eyes, wbich hearts beguile,
Thoir faint perfume sweet an your smile,
I gather them, with fervent prayer
Tlj*t they my passion, may declare;
Their petals pale, tear stained with dew.
May tell how I live but for you—
For you, my love, alone for you!
—Donahoe'fl Magazine,
"Jessie," said Anton Mosby, the for
ester, to his daughter, "why do you
persist in your friendship for our board
er, Hayes, when you know I don't like
him? I've warned you often enough.
Wben a man is ashamed to tell his busi
ness, it doesn't take much discernment
to see that something is wrong. He
has been in our house now about five
weeks and during tho whole time bas
not hinted a word as to the meaning of
his trips into the woods. Yestorday I
saw him prowling about the old quarry,
hut when I asked bim what he was aft
er he said he was looking for game. A
likely place indeed to find anything to
"Father," said the daughter, "Mr.
Hayes has always treated me like a gen
tleman, and as there is no other com
pany here I don't see what harm can
come from talking with him."
"I know tbat it is lonesome here,
Jessie, with no one but me for com
pany, and when we can afford it we
shall go where you can have better ad
vantages, but that fellow Hayes is not
the right kind, and I don't want you to
have anything at all to do with him.
I've left word with Dick to have his
horse ready when he gets back, for he has
got to leave this place today. Of conrse
I've got no proof that he is a bad one,
but it is easy enough to see. Look at
his brace of pistols. I tell you a rifle
is good enongh here against anything
but the sheriff's posse. But I must go;
remember what I say and don't look
for me back before night," and Mosby
turned away.
Anton Mosby's occupation was to
protect a large section of pine timber
owned by an eastern company from en
croachments by rival firms and neces
sitated long trumps along the bounda
ries of the great forest estate. His home
was located in a small clearing not
large enough to escape the shadows of
the trees for more than half of the day.
The neatest village was a lumbering
town about 13 miles distant. From
this village ran a narrow, snraggy road
out into the forest, past Mosby's house,
and then at the distance of a mile or so
divided, one branch turning south and
leading somewhere in the direction of
civilization, tbe other running several
miles northward and ending in an old
quarry which was dug in the side of a
rocky ledge.
After Mosby's departure Jessie went
heart. " Her father s VmrmciOti that the
man Hayes, who had been sojourning
with thoiS* was only a refugee from
justice, pained her. He had always
been very obliging about the house, had
books in his saddlebags and sometimes
read aloud to her, which was a matter
of real entertainment, and while she
did not care for him she felt extremely
sorry for the treatment he received at
her father's hands. She bad to confess,
however, on thinking it over, that it
was a queer place for a man to come
whose only occupation was pleasure.
Her father bad an idea tbat some day
an officer of the law would ride into
their little clearing and demand a pris
oner; that a scene would follow, and
the prisoner, escaping, would seek safe
ty in the slimy caves which penetrated
the sides of the limestone ledge. He
even dreamed about it and awoke one
night imbued with tbe idea that the
house was surrounded by mounted
horsemen. Day by day his suspicions
increased, until finally from fear of
Jessie's falling in love with a villain he
decided to drive him away.
Hayes was an ordinary looking man
of about 5 feet 10, hair brown, eyes
blue and rather quick and nervous in
his speech. It was a suspicion of em
barrassment in the latter respect when
questioned as to bis business that first
led Mosby to observe his actions, and
his preference for the old quarry road,
which was rough and swampy and led
through a tangled growth of under
brush, seemed evident enough that he
belonged to those who prefer darkness
rather than light.
These suspicions made Mosby, nat
urally a hospitable man, cold and sa
tirical, and many an arrow of sarcasm
was plumed for his victim's breast, but
Hayes usually seemed perfectly obliv
ious of their meaning, a fact which only
further determined Mosby in the belief
that ho was a bad ono.
The season bad been exceedingly dry.
For nearly a month not a drop of rain
had fallen. The sand lay in drifts ip
tho middle of the road and blew away
from the roots of tho trees. During the
previous weeks a great fire had been
raging to tho northward, several towns
being razed to the ground and a wide
stretch of timber ruined. The ledge of
rocks referred to ran in a crescent and
acted as a barrier to the flames, so that
tho country over which Mosby presided
was left unharmed.
Tbis great northern section, however,
where tho fires had been so destructive,
was inhabited by wolves, which now,
goaded by tire and hunger, sought safe
ty to the southward. Mosby saw them
frequently, and their baying could be
beard at night while prowling through
the woods in search of food.
When Mosby went on the tramp, he
invariably took his rifle with him, hop
ing to obtain enough pelts during the
season for s robe.
"Wolves," he used to say to Hayes,
"are about all the game you will find
about these quartan, bnt if yon want
to kill any you'd better throw away
your six shooters and gat a rifle, for all
the things are good for ia to kill men,
and I reckon the people araund here are
a peaceable lat, Of course, it might bo
a good thing if one wanted to ese&pe
rrom a constable, but we aro presuming
that you want to kill animals." But
his arguments as to the relativo merits
tad uses of tbe two weapons had little
affect on Hayes, who still continued to
Cartj the pistols and make excursions
not into the woods—where, Mosby ven
tured, "the.c might be a stray deer if
one happened to sec it"—but toward the
quarry and the hills.
Whether Mosby wanted to keep watch
of his strango boarder's actions that
day or whether his business led in tbat
direction we cannot say, bnt he spent
the afternoon exploring the timber
abutting tho highlands. His observa
tions were quite minute, and tho sun
was beginning to redden the clouds in
the west when he started for home, and
by the time he reached the road it had
become quite, dark. Ho had about
eight miles to cover, hut tho way was
so rough that he made slow progress.
Here and thero a moonbeam glistened
on a sandy opening, but for the greater
part of the time the foliage of the trees
entirely obstructed the light, so he
slumped wearily along, mußing upon
tho events of tho previons weeks and
wondering where Hayes had gone to
spend the night.
A warm breeze swayed the tops of
the hugo pines; this aud the sticks
which crackled under his feet were nil
that broke the silence of the night—all
until from the distance came suddenly
to his ears the hoarse baying of a wolf.
From timo to time it was repeated, un
til from another direction arose an an
swering howl, prolonged and mournful.
Mosby plodded along, giving little
heed except wishing that he could get a
sight on one of the varmints in a bright
spot of moonlight. Tho howling of the
wolves gradually became more frequent
and begnn to eonnd nearer and nearer.
Mosby came to a halt and examinod
the condition of his gun, and then, al
though feeling that the rifle insnred his
safety, began to hasten his steps. By
the time he had covered another half
mile he knew that there was danger be
hind, for the weird sounds had in
creased into a din and an uproar. They
were evidently on his trail and rapidly
approaching, dozens of them perhaps,
courageous at last from strength of
number. He realized that there would
be scant time for reloading a gun after
once firing and looked about for a tree
which he could climb and pick them off
one at a time, but where there were
trees the darknosM was so deep that the
project had to be abandoned as imprac
ticable, and he could not endure tho
thought of remaining a prisoner all
night in the uncomfortable branches of
a pino tree on account of a few wolves.
This decision was scarcely reached when
he would gladly have changed it, for
a moment rater the wolves reached the
road behind him and were coming along
at long leaps, filling the air with their
mournful screams.
Mosby, still cool and confident, raised
his riflo to hia shoulder. A gray form
flashed in the light a little distance
away, and he fired. The howling of the
pack suddenly ceased as one of their
number rollad in tbe sand, und Mosby,
after reloading, started on a trot to
ward a small opening. Before he
reached it they were in pursuit again.
Mosby fired again, but missed his
aim. For a moment they hesitated,
then gnashing men iUhucu m*
ward into the light. Mosby's heavy
riflo whirled aiotind his head and de
scended on the skull of the foremost
wolf, but tho beasts, crazed with hun
ger, had lost all fear, rod Mosby saw
that lie had met his fate. A wave of
sorrow for poor Jessie, left all alone in
such a country, welled up in his heart,
and then, gritting his teeth in anger, he
grasped his gun stock tighter and struck
again. This blow was his last, for the
next instant he was borne to the ground.
Bang! bang! bang! suddenly rang
through tho forest. A wolf with his
fangs buried in Mosby's arm released
his hold; another tearing furiously at
his breast fell dead. The air resounded
with quick reports, and Mosby, weak
and almost dying, saw the suspicious
boarder rush in'.o the fray, a repeater
in each hand.
When ho next opened his eyes, ho was
at home and Jessie by his side. '' Where
is Hayes?" he murmured.
"Here, father," she answered, and
Hayes stepped forward from the shadow
where he had been sitting.
The old man would have given him
his hand, but his arms were limp and
lifeless. "You saved my life," he mur
mured gratefully, "and I reckoqayour
kind of weapons are the best, after all,
among wolves. You must stay with us
the whole season, and Jessie and I will
do our best to entertain you."
Hayeß Biniled. "It was a lucky thing
that you sent me away, Mr. Mosby, for
otherwise I would not have Ween on the
quarry road and saved you. I finished
my work here yesterday, and so whan
Dick told mo that I nr.ist go I started
for tho quarry to get some things. Jes
sie has toid mo what you feared I was,
and Ido not blamo you. It did look
suspicious, and I oftin felt anhamed
that I bad to keep so qnitt, but my
time has been spent negotiating pur
chases of land. I nra tho junior part
ner in a firm which expect! to establish
a mine in this vicinity and came here
enjoined to absolute secrecy. Tho busi
ness is now where this is no longer nec
essary, for we hive contracted for all the
land we want except ono corner, prob
ably the richest in ore, however, of
all." Haj'es then opened bis papers
and showed* plan of the grounds.
"Why," cried Mosby, "that corner
belongs to me and is the most worthless
piece of ground on the footstool. I've
always been ashamed to claim owner
"Do you wish to Bell it, Mr. Mosby?"
asked Hayes.
"Sell it?" returned Mosby. "Take it
for nothing. Bring me the paper, and 1
will sign tho deed."
Hayes acted with alacrity; he found
a form, filled in some figures aud held
It in front of the old man.
"For and in consideration of $20,
--000!" gasped Mosby. "What does it
"It means," replied Hayes, "that I
consider it a reasonable bargain for our
firm at tbat price."
The old man recovered entirely dur
ing the course of a few months. Mr.
Hayes the following year was frequent
ly a boarder with Jessie and her father,
but one August day there was a wed
ding, and Jessie went to board with
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Prsacrlptloaa careful"!/ compound** **v ay
tai»»t- ■«»*

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