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Thouga he that over l;inl find true
Jvtpt stoutly step by -.vith you
lour whole Jdna; pusty lifetime through.
le gone a while before.
jse now a moment gone before,
let doubt not. noon the scasc
ona bhall rc-
Your friend to you.
He hits but turned a comer still
He puHhcs on with right pood will,
llirouaih mire and marsh, by heugh and
That self-same arduous way
That self-,sarr?9 upland hopeful way
lliat you and he through many a doubtful
h auciurr rvwcixa imtWMl
By Guy Arthur Jamleson.
!A1I HARDIN stepped to
HARDIN stepped to 1
i -"c euac iuc
I parted cautiously the hot
fnlino-n rfist "h KPHrcllinsr
the edge of the canon,
parted cautiously the hot
- iiimi. I, if Slance over tue shimmer-
ib iuiii. The stretches of cactus-dotted
sand glowed like a
heated oven. Far across the arid
.waste a chain of mountains lay, a
purple shadow against the sky. There,
somewhere, flowed the sluggish Rio
Grande, and beyond that safety. His
eyes wandered from point to point
iwith hawk-like scrutiny. Only a soli
tary vulture, floating lazily far above
the dry arroyo, moved on the vast, si
lent expanse. He had, for the present
at least, outwitted his pursuers. He
picked out here and there patches of
the white road that glistened through
the chaparral and mesquite. ' As he
looked a yellow haze rose in the dis
tance; then the Brownsville stage
lurched Into view, moved slowly
against the white glare like a clumsy
beetle, and was swallowed up by the
foliage. Presently it crawled into view
again as it labored np a steep hillside,
scarce a mile off. As it turned on to
tue crest something slipped to the
ground and ray motionless.
The stage passed over the hill. Har
din's eye became fixed on the point
at which it disappeared, expecting to
see some one return for the lost bun
dle. In this he was disappointed. Af
ter a. little the object in the road
moved. Hardin became keenly curi
ous. Glancing quickly around to make
sure no danger threatened, he picked
his way to his horse, hid in a mat of
rnanzanitas, mounted and galloped
toward the road.
As he neared the spot it suddenly
flashed on him that this might be a
trick of the enemy to tempt him Into
the open. He wheeled his broncolnto
the dense underbrush and dismounted.
Holding his Winchester before him,
he crept stealthily on. He had pro
ceeded but a short distance when a
faint cry, as of a young animal in dis
tress, floated to him from the direc
jtjon of the road.
"A young wolf or bear cub," he
thought, "that has tumbled over
board." But he would not turn back
now. Life of late had been too mon
otonous for him to 'easily forego the
prospect of diversion. Reaching the
road, he stopped and listened intently.
'No sound broke the stillness but the
'faint wailing from the roadway. He
took a quick glance about him, his eyes
resting dubiously on the patch of road
iwhere the stage had disappeared, then
he parted the foliage and ran noiseless
ly to where the bundle lay. He stooped
over and threw aside the covering that
concealed it; then he stepped back and
gave vent to a low whistle. A baby
blinked up into his facp. It stopped its
crying suddenly with an indrawn sob,
and the next second greeted him with
a friendly "ghoo-oo," as it proceeded to
kick Itself free of its swaddling
"Blame my cats, young un!" he ex
claimed, his eyes hard on the road
where it wound over the crest of the
hill; " ye ain't the kind of proposition
I was lookin' fer. I can't stand yere
In the road an' entertain ye, an' it
don't seem like jest the proper thing to
leave ye; but I ain't never went back
on a feller yet as 'uz in a hole. Shorely
yer friends'll miss ye an' turn up fer
you 'fore long. But if a loafer shud
happen this way, it 'ud be the last of
you, an' jest likely as not I'd git the
credit of kidnaping ye, for my tracks
is goin' to give me away. Well, they've
credited me with most everything else
a feller oughtn't be proud of an' yere
goes, fer better er worse; it can't make
much difference." He slipped his arm
beneath the baby, lifted it to his breast
and stepped into the brush. Here he
made sundry manetivres to conceal his
tracks, regained his horse, and spurred
for his hiding place. Meantime he had
kept the baby quiet "boo-booing," tick
ling It in the ribs with the muzzle of
bis revolver, and addressing to it spec
ulative remarks as to the outcome of
tbpir "blamed uncommon pickle."
Safe again within the protection of
his lookout, he made the baby com
fortable on nn old coat, laid it in the
thin shade of a ledge of rocks, and, sit
ting down opposite, began to regard it
with a quizzical air of perplexity.
"Well, young nn, I've been guilty of
many a fool thing in my day, but this
caps 'em. What I'm goiu' to do with
tp's more'n I can savvy "
"Coo! .goo!" coo?J the baby, seem-
He if, not dead, Urn friend not dead,
But, in the path we mortals tread,
Got some few, trifling steps ahead
And nearer to the end;
So that you. too. onee im.st the bend.
Khali meet acain. as face to face,
You faney dead.
Push gayly on, strong heart! The while
You travel forward mile by mile
He loiters with a backward smiie
lill you can overtake,
And strains his eyes to search
Or whistling as he Bees you through the
Waits on a stile.
Robert Louis Stevenson.
iugly delighted with this new arrange-
luciu, uiiu, inuetu, us naruin tnougnt,
it was a more comfortable one than
tlio 'Ri'n'nrnci-llln o(ni.
J. in atraid you'll change yer tune,
cub, when yer feedin' time comes, an'
then what'll come of me ain't hard to
predict. Guess ye'd hardly take things
so easy, no-how, if ye's able to know
that ye're a guest of Hardin, as has a
price on his head. Well, them's the
facts, an' ef I don t manage to git ye
off en my hands, ' I wouldn't give a pin
fer my chances. Don't ye dare yell,
young un, er I'll be tempted to choke
ye," he broke off, as the baby puck
ered up its mouth in a tentative whim
per. "There, that's all right, young un,
we'll manage somehow," and he
chucked it under the chin. The baby
was not wholly reassured, and contin
ued spasmodically a sob which threat
ened at any moment to burst into a
wail. Hardin took it on his knee, jog
gled it vigorously, and got it interested
in his watch chain, which the baby
continued to clutch desperately till it
got hold of one of Hardin's fingers.
This it persisted in carrying toward its
"I'm 'fraid ye're goin' to be disap'
pointed, young un. You'll find that
finger over strong; ain't felt the tech
of water fer ten days, but jest have
yer way ef it amuses you an'll keep
yer mouth shet."
The baby frowned in frank disgust
as its mouth closed on the unsavory
morsel, but it clung to it determinedly.
"Blame me, but I like yer grit, an' ef
it's any satisfaction, make the most of
it. We may git on better'n I expected.
I've got nine more yere, just as ripe as
that un," Hardin went on, pouring a
few drops of muddy water from an al
most empty canteen on to his finger
and scrubbing it with a soiled hand
kerchief.' He then returned the digit
to the baby and lifted it to his breast,
awkwardly attempting to settle it com
"Human nature is shore a queer
thing," he muttered, looking down at
the baby, his eyes softening; "seems
to enjoy it." The baby's eyes were
half closed, and its chubby hands wan
dered around caressingly. One slipped
from sight through Hardin's open
shirt, the other clutched the shaggy
beard. He bent his head forward
painfully, not wishing to loosen the
baby's hold, and found himself yield
ing to a strange, tender feeling that
crept over him at the pressure of its
fingers and its warmth against his
arm. It slowly relaxed its hold on his
finger, then dropped to sleep. Hardin
remained motionless, watching the
rhythmic rise and fall of its bosom and
the play of color on its face. It
"Dreamin' of angels," he mumbled,
his face suddenly becoming sober, al
most sad, as memory leaped the gulf
of years and he was a boy again, dang
ling at his mother's knee, teasing her
to let him hold the baby's hand, to
look into its face. "Ef I could jest be
gin over ag'in, er had jest a-died when
I'z a baby," he continued in bitter
speculation. "I know 't ain't like a
man to try an' shif yer faults on some
one else, but it might 'a' been different
if Belle hadn' throwed me over fer
that worthless Armstrong. Witnin are
strange critters a few fine clothes, an'
fine manners, an' fine talk tutches the
best of 'em. Then he 'uz from the city
an' Fz jest a common, rough cowboy
but I guess maybe it's best fer Belle,
after all, seein' what I've been driv'
to. But somehow I feel it might 'a'
been different. I loved Belle, an'
peered like I couldn' stair" fo see. her
marry Armstrong, knowin' him as I
did; but she wouldn't believe me, an'
I got reckless an' an' I jest can't git
it straight how it did happen. Well's
I remember, he 'sinuated Belle wasn't
all right, nn' they say I killed 'im.
Maybe I did. I know I got mixed up
in the shootin' with the others. Since
that day they've kept me on the dodge,
an' a feller has to live an' the stage
passin' every day right 'fore my eyes.
Well, it 'uz dead easy, but it's risky,
anef I can jest slip crost the river,
I'm goin' to begin over, an' ef they'll
let meilone, nobody ain't goin' to be
loser inXhe end. But a feller has to
live but v blast me!" he broke off
abruptly; "what am I goin'- to do wi:h
the kid? Can't leave it, can't take it
along, an' to stop yere meajs to be
run in, shore. These hills'll be swarin-
J in' witlisenrehers soon as they miss it.
Blamed fool fer techln' it; none of my
business ef a lazy Mexicttn nurse lets
somebody's baby drap outen the stag".
But, darn me, I'm most glad I fetched
it along gritty little cuss. Who'd 'a'
thought he'd behave so well, makin' a
meal off on one dirty finger and no com
plalnin'? Wonder whose he could be?"
he queried, placing it on the coat and
beginning to search its clothes for
some identifying marks. "I've a mind
to take it along," he mused after a lit
tle; "keeps a feller from gittin' so etar
nally lonesome, an' I've got nine fresh
fingers yere yet. Ef Belle hadn't
been so fickle might 'a' had one of my
own 'bout its size. Tshaw! I'm a jib
bering fool, goin' on any sech way
well, yere it is. Hello! 'S. A.' I won
der what that can stan' fer. Never
knowed nobody's name that v begin
with A but Jim Andrews an' that
ornery Armstrong, an' Jim ain't never
married fer's I know, reckon it couldn't
be his; an' jest as likely his as Arm
strong's. Well, one thing's shore, I'll
have to git outen this somehow." He
rose and stepped to the edge of the
"Hands up, Sam Hardin," said .To
Powell, the Duval County Sheriff. He
stood less than ten yards off, his Win
chester leveled at the outlaw.
"I reckon I'll have to, Towell," re
turned Hardin, coolly, "sein'vas ye've
got the drop on me; but I calkerlate
ye ought to divide up with this young
un yere, sein' ef it hadn't been fer it
ye'd never tuck me alive."
"I ain't carin' fer the reward, liar
din, an' I'm sorry I have to take you."
returned the sheriff, amicably. "Hadn'
been fer yer hold-up, ye might 'a' gone
free; ain't no proofs yer killed Arm
strong. It 'uz a free-fer-all fight; the
witnesses weren't shore 'bout nothin',
an' ye'd likely 'a' come clear. Tried
to git word to you, but ye kept yerself
so scarce, 'n a feller had no manner of
chance. I'll have to hold you; hate to,
but it's my duty, ye know." .
"Whose baby is it?", asked Hardin
irrelevantly, as the Sheriff relieved him
of bis pistols.
"Belongs to a young widow name'
Armstrong. Her husband got killed a
few weeks ago in a gamblin' place at
Brownsville; she's goin' back to her
folks. She's 'most crazy 'bout her
boy," returned Powell, scanning the
outlaw's face searchingly.
"Folks live at San Diego?" asked the
other, his countenance inscrutable.
"I knowed 'em," said Hardin, and
turning his back slowly to the Sheriff,
he gazed across the yellow plain to
ward the distant peaks.
"I knowed yer did," returned Towoll,
sympathetically. Then, after a si
lence, he added: "I wish there was
some way I could help you, Hardin."
"Much oblige', Powell, but ye can't
unless you couldn't manage fer me to
see Miz Armstrong, I reckin?" ho
The Sheriff glanced at his prisoner
questiouingly. "I'll bring her to you,
ef ef ye'll wait yere with the baby."
He did not wait for a reply, but, turn
ing, vanished in the brush.
Hardin dropped his chin to the palm
of his hand and sat motionless, star
ing abstractedly into the hot glare. The
baby at his feet slept soundly, occa
sionally giving vent to a contented
sigh. A drowsy beetle droned by,
knocking against the wilted foliage.
Over the plain and the white glisten
ing spaces brooded a death-like still
ness. Five minutes, ten minutes, hair
an hour passed, and Hardin still sat
motionless, staring fixedly before him.
At last a rustling near at hand caused
him, to start up and spring to his feet
with the old-time alertness.
"Belle!" he cried, stepping toward
the woman that stood before him.
She offered her hand hesitatingly. "I
want to thank you, Sam, fer takin
care of the boy the Sheriff told me
how ye got caught on account of him,
"That's all right, Belle: likely I
would- anyhow, sooner er later, an'
an' hadn' been fer the boy wouldn't
never seen you ag'in. Its pa's dead."
he said, as he stooped and lifted the
baby to her arms.
"Yes," she said, quietly, her eyes on
An hour slipped away in friendly
talk. Then, suddenly, Hardin began to
appear ill at ease; he pushed aside the
foliage and peered out toward the high
way. "I wonder why Powell don't come?"
"He ain't comin'," returned the wo
man. "He ain't?" Hardin asked quickly,
but guessed the truth even before the
other could reply.
"He 'lowed as he's the only one that
knows where you are. an' ef ye'll keep
mum, he'll try to." New York Times.
Jn tlio Trnnsvaal.
There are now on. the Witwatersrand
125.777 colored laborers, 22,000 of
whom are domiciled in the Transvaal.
The total population of the Transvaal
amounts now to about C20.000.
Etkitno Dor Are Swift.
Eskimo dogs have been driven forty
five miles over the ice in five hours. A
picked team of these dogs once trav
eled six mllec In twenty-eight minutes.
Decree Against llypnolirm.
Tublie exhibitions of hypnotists have
been made illegal in Prussia, through
the renewal of a decree published iu
A Private Telegraph Line,
The telegraph instrument here de-
scribed is a twenty-ohm machine,
which cost 5223. But an old instru
ment from some telegraph office will
do as well. It should be fastened to
a bench or table. To make two gravi
ty batteries, get 'a preserve jar which
is about three or three and one-half
inches in diameter and about seven
inches in height. Cut off the neck.
Now get two pieces of copper (flat)
about two and one-half inches long,
one inch wide and one-eighth of an
inch thick. Cut a slot in the centre of
each (Figs. 1 and 2), so they will fit
togeflier, as in Fig. 3.
After you have fitted them together,
fasten a covered wire to one end of
this the wire to reach out of the jar
as in Fig. 4.
Next get a flat piece of zinc and cut
it into the shape of Fig. 5, and bend
it like Fig. G. This zinc should not be
quite so wide as your jar. The diame
ter of the round part of the zinc should
be about one-half inch smaller than
the diameter of the jar.
Place the copper cross on the bottom
of the jai Now put in one pound of
blue vitriol. (It costs ten cents a
pound.) . Next put the zinc in the jar,
after fastening a short wire of two or
three inches to the end resting on the
top of the jar. Tour in water till the
zinc is covered to the depth of one-half
inch. Do not let the zinc touch the
copper. It will work as soon as made,
but it will work at its best in four
This battery will last about two
months. It should be set in a cool
If you put up the wire between two
houses you need to use glass insula
tors and wooden brackets These cost
three cents apiece They should be
put about every fifty feet Don't put
them upon poles, but upon trees, for
poles are taxable by the city. Use
covered wire in the house. Fasten the
wire with china brackets, or a cheap
er wTay is small staples.
Cut off an inch of covering and
scrape the wire where you splice or
where you fasten on the machine.
Figure 7 shows four batteries and
two machines. In fastening batteries
together fasten the copper of the first
battery to zinc of the next battery,
and so on. 1
Figure 8 shows how to fasten the
wire to the tree and to the house. A
china insulator holds the wire to the
house. A loop should be made in the
wire just before it enters the house,
to allow the water to drip off.
To complete the circuit you should
have two wires. But if you wish you
can use the ground as the return cur
cuit. Fasten one wire to an iron pipe
that runs into the ground, or fasten
the wire to n piece of copper about two
feet by two feet and place it in the
ground where it is damp to the depth
of two feet. Do the same at each end
and it will make a" circuit. If you do
not have much power you had better
use two wires.
BLACK AND WHITE.
Every crow is said to think its own
nestling the whitest. But a white cat
that had four kittens, of which three
were white and the fourth was black,
gave the first place in her affections to
Sooty. Once they were all brought
into the drawing-room to be "shown
off." Besides the humans, the room
contained n great Newfoundland dog.
Hitherto the cat and dog had been on
friendly terms, but now pussy showed
much anxiety lest the dog might harm
her black pet, especially. At last she
seized it by the neck and bore it be
neath the lowest piece of furniture
wbcro tuo dog could" not possibly
1 "5 p -.fKb-y
BJ -M Fid-6
crawl but she merely mewed to ths
others to follow her as best they could.
The black kitten owed all this care to
its color more happy in this respect
than the black sheep which is said
t be in every flock. Our Four-Footed
THE DEER AND THE JACKAL.
A deer once became dissatisfied with
his lot. His home was on a high pla
teau, which was well covered with
woods and broken by beautiful streams
which fell in bubbling cascades at the
edge of the plateau to the valley he
"That is a beautiful valley,"' declared
looked at the pretty landscape spread
out before him, but many hundred feet
below. "How I should like to live-
, 1 vr l rcr
there, and yet it is impossible for rue
to climb down the steep sides of this
immense precipice. Just now I saw,
a miiu spanuw uu iiuu ueju iwu-
tering in a bush at my side, spread
his wings and swiftly fly down, down,
down to the meadow on the bank of
the valley stream. Why should not I
And the foolish deer thought so long
on this subject that he actually be
came possessed of the idea that he
could fly. ,
"Here I go," he cried at last. "Hero
I go to the velvet meadows and the-
cool shade of yonder valley."
Then he plunged forward
Well, there isn't anything
tell about the deer, but it may be said
that on that self-same day the jackal?
of that beautiful valley had a feast of
boneless venison such as they had nev
er enjoyed before.
PARTIES IN JAFAN.
fin Japan to get up parties to behold
the freshly fallen snow, or the cherry
blossoms, or the maple trees in their
autumnal glory, or to go to the flower
shows, is as popular ns are our din
ners, "cotillions and theatre parties..
Mushroom hunting is a fashionable
pastime, while in the house harp play
ing, verse writing, embroidering and
tea drinking are the most absorbing
occupations. The most pretentious
entertainment i3 the tea ceremony. It
is very formal, and there is much elab
orate performance connectec". with it
M'-!in'iTi- fnv o forpiftipv to corinroli'Kl.
Florence Peltier, in Good Kouss
The women of Tcmas River, N. J..
have formed a village Improvement
association to beautify the city, and
have elected I.Irs. G.
E, Burt pre3'
ill W- -