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The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, August 31, 1883, Image 1

Image and text provided by South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn99068076/1883-08-31/ed-1/seq-1/

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Silence reigned in the darkness
But out trow the fire-place old,
Up to the darkening rafters
There shot a i.'leam of gold.
Lighting the face or the dial
On the ancient family clock,
Showing the chairs and la'nlea
01 good old Puritan stock.
The tins on the dres9er shining,
The sand on the whitened floor,
And grandfather'? flint-lock musket
Above the high-latched door.
The spinning-wheel in the corner,
The silhouettes on the wall,
And shinning upon the dresser
Decanter!) straight antl tall.
The shadows danced and deepened,
The corners filled with gloem,
The sparks died out on the hearthstone
And darkness filled the room.
Woiirhod in the Balance.
A True Story.
Salomon Speed was a builder by occu
pation, a hard-working, calculating, sav
ing man, who iifl'l come to Belmont
when the tov.-n was new, attracted thith
er by promise of mui:h occupation in the
line of his calling. He was a good me
chanic, a very fair architect, competent
to superintendent the erection of any
ordinary building, and able to do much
of the better class of work with his own
hands. He was also a shrewd man.
When he had thoroughly inspected the
town and its surroundings, he saw that
impossibilities were great, and all the
money he could raise and all the credit
he cured to ask were invested in land.
And he did not mistake. He lived to
see land that lie had bought at the rate
of fifty dollars per acre, sold for one dol
lar per square foot. He built for him
self a large ami comfortable dwelling, in
the new town, feeling well assured that
he was settled down for the remainder
of his life.
Solomon Speed had three children
three sons—Nathan, Thomas, and Peter,
aged respectively, eighteen, ten and
lour. This four years old son was the
child of a second wife, married alter Mr.
Speed had built his new house in Bel
mont and we ni&v say liere that the
two eider sons were never quite recon
ciled to their father's second marriage.
They had inherited all his shrewdness,
and, having seen tiuit wealth was likely
toil iwin upon their father, they did
not take kindly to the idea of en in
crease in the number of his heirs. The
step-mother they never ill-treated—
that they dared not do—but tli ey never
liked her, nor were they ever heartily
kind to her. After little Peter had be
come large enough and strong enough
to creep around upon his hands and
knees, and anon to stand upon his feet,
the two brothers, large and strong,
Boaietimes spoke pleasantly to him, and
would pick him up when he fell but
thty never kissed him they never gave
him brotherly love.
But the child was not without a play
mate of his own sex. In the famil'v,
adopted hv Solomon Speed, was a bov
named Robert Asbworth, a son and onfv
child of his—Speed's only sister. His
father had died when Robert was an in
fant, and his mother hrd survived her
husband but a few years. On her
deathbed she had called her
brother to her side, and begged
of him that he would take care of her
boy and he had promised that he
would do so. Robert was at that time
five years old, just the age, of Thomas,
and from that iiine he had been one of
the family, enjoying all the advantages
of life and education that his two cous
ins enjoyed. But with dawning of bet
ter times—as the prospect of wealth
opened upon the family-- the aspect of
Robert's situation changed somewhat.
As Solomon Speed began to gain more
money than he could spend, he became
more and more inclined to save and lie
came, in time, to look upon his sister's
child as a burden which he ought not to
bear. And the same feelings found lie
in the bosoms of Nathan and Thomas
As their prospects grow brighter and
brighter, they began to cherish the fear
that they might be called upon, in some
way, to share witl. Robert, their "pau
per cousin," as they had called him
more than once.
Robert Ashworth loved the bright
,'ved, flaxen-haired child, and never
tired ofearrying him in his arms, and
playing with him in all sorts of ways.
In fact, the time came—it had come at
the time at which we open ttie story—
when little Peter and his mother were
the poor cousin's oiiiy friends—the only
ones who loved him, and contributed
to bis happiness.
At the age of sixteen Robert concluded
that he had been a burden upon his
uncle long enough, and he suggested
that it might be well him to go out
into the world andseek his own fortune.
TJ:cle Soioinon thought the same ami
Nathan and Thomas both coincided:
anil the uncle, stipulating that the boy
shoiilil never trouble him more—should
never appeal to liiin for money.—offered
to give uini one hundred dollars in
money. The lad had.thought his uncle
would give him something but this con
dition aroused his indignation and lie
would not take a penny. He had ten
dollars, saved in tw'o years, and he
would make that answer. Mrs. Speed,
who was becoming thin, and pale, and
weak, wept with bitter grief as she held
his hand for the last time and from lit1
tie Peter he
Another year passed," at the end of
which time his last letter to Mrs. Speed
was returned to him. She was dead!
and the wanderer wrote.no more letters
to his old home.
Ten years more had passed, when
Robert Ashworth—now a strong, rupged
brown-faced, fulNbearded man, of eight
and-twenty—liiet'a man w|io had come
from Belmont within a year. From this
man he learned t' at Solomon Speed was
.l '•••:'':k'fiAv^i:^ V-
dead, and that the two older sons were
carrying on the business. They were
both married and had families, and were
looked upon as being very wealthy. At
ill events, they were proud and aristo
Five years more, and Robert again
heard from the old home—this time
meeting with a man whom he had
known in the days of his boyhood. Na
than and Thomas Speed were still flour
ishing, their business being simply the
looking after their real estate and per
sonal propelty, and in spreading the
glitter of their wealth before the world.
Their half-brother, Peter, had grown to
be a man of one-and-twenty, and was
hard at work in one of the mills belong
ing to them. By some sort of hocus-po
eiih lie bad been left poor at his father's
death—dependent entirely upon his eld
er brothers. Robert's informant could
not fully explain but he believed that
old Solomon, by his will, had left every
thing to Nathan and Thomas, making
them joint-guardians to Peter, the boy
at that time having been only nine years
of age.
And still years sped on. Hobert Ash
worth, in the tvay of money-making, was
fortunate. A strong, healthful, honor
able man, dealing justly with all, and
rei)eetiuj the.rights of all with whom
he came 111 contact, he made friends
wherever he went, and made no ene
mies. Early in his mountain experience
he struck a prolific mine, and bought it.
When lie erected his shanty on his land
there was '.not another human habita
tion within fifteen milesTof him. At the
end of twenty years, still living upon the
same spot where he had first erected bis
simple cabin of logs, and clay,and birch
bark thatching, he wits father of a town
of four thousand inhabitants—its mayor
and its chief man in every way.
Five-and thirty years had now elapsed
since Robert Ashworth left the eastern
home to seek his fortune, and the fickle
dame had never, in all that time, played
him false. Only, he had found no soci
ety in which he cared to spend tl«i calm
evening of his days. His heart turned
longingly back upon the old home. In
all the years of his wanderings he had
seen no woman whom he could love
well enough to make her his wife and
he prayed that he might yet find a faith
ful bosom upon which he could rest his
weary head.in trustful confidencc and
love. So tie offered all his Dorado prop
erty for sale and though people were
pained to see him leaving them,
yet they
gladly bid (or his valuable estate.
When all his business bad been set
tled, and the balance sheet brought to
him by his private secretary for inspec
tion, he was truly surprised. At first
he could not believe it. He had known
that his property was extensive and val
uable: and he had known also that his
bank account was large, seeing that he
owned the bulk of the bank
himself but when ho looked at the
foot of the column of totals, and saw the
sum total of all—saw it running away in
to the millions—when he was assured
that iie read aright, and that the figures
did not lie, he was astonished.
Government bonds had then come in
to the market, and had already reached
a premium." His first movement on
reaching San Francisco, was to lock
three million dollars safely up in regis
tered bonds. The money was deposited
with the sub-treasurer there, with or
ders that the bonds should be sent to
hisaddressat New York. After paying
for the bonds he had left between one
and two hundred thousand dollars in
gold, of which he reserved sufficient to
pay his expenses on the road, placing
the rest in banks, and taking a draft 011
New York, in exchange, which draft for
security's sake, he gave into the hands
of a reliable express company. Audit
was well he did so, for between the
Great Salt Lake and Cheyenne, his pock
eta were, picked of every dollar he had
with him.
Arriving in New York, Robert first
looked after his bonds and his draft.
bonds were safe and awaiting his
call, while the draft arrived on the every
day of his own arrival, having come 011
the same train.
And now for his visit to Belmont. It
h» could not find a loving heart there,
thcMi he knew not|wheie to look. But
if he was to find true love it must not be
known that he was wealthy. No, the
love his heart yearned for was a pure,
loyal love for poor Bobby Ashworth,
just as he was wiien he set forth to seek
his fortune. So he went to a clothing
store where second-hand garments were
snld, and purchased a full suit as sadjv
worn and faded as he could feel comfort
able 111, clad in which I10 set forth 011
Ins trial trip.
Arrive at Belmont—and the steam
curs took him to the very center of the
town—he found the place wonderfully
grown. Where he had left green fields
and tangled hedges, were now broad
streets, flanked with stores and dwell
ings. In short, the, place had grown to
full six times its size live-afid-thirty
years before. At the smallest and poor
est public house he stopped and orueied
supper and, while it was being pre
pared, he asked after the Speeds. Did
any one present know them? Yes, a
man was sitting there, in the barroom,
who had formerly worked for them,
said he:
"Well, stranger, it would be very dif
ficult to tell you just how they stand. If
vou cO'ild take 'em for what they think
of thenfcelves, they'd be two oft lie big-
forced to tear himself
'lime passed on. Mrs. Speed received
two leiterB from Robert—one written at
*'-t. Louis, and the other
away out toward
the Rocky mountains. She answered
them both. In the last She confessed
that she wa^ very weak, with little hope
of life remaining. At the end of a year
and a hall he wrole his third letter, from
the Pacific coast, bidding her that stie
should direct her answer to San Francis
co. He.was going away to the moun
tains, beyond Sonora, but a friend in
,)San Francisco would forward it to him.
est men in creation. Thai's Nathan and
About score of 5 ears ago they
got to playin' the big-bug entirelyi They
let out the mills, and went to livin' oil
the interest of their money and it's my
opinion 'at they've come todippin' pret
ty deep into their principal. Howsom
ever they're proud enough."
"And Peter Speed—what has becomn
of him?"
"O, he is here—the same poor, hard
workin' uncomfort'nit man he always
was He did one spell, drink a lettle too
much but he finally married a woman
that made a saved man of him."
"But didn't fits father leave turn any
"Not outright. The old man, somehow,
got set against the boy—tbought.he was
wild and frolicsome, and unsafe to be
trusted with money so he left him in
the care of his two older brothers."
"Well," pursued Robert, "and what
have they done for him?"
"Really, stranger, I don't like to say
anything against them two men: but if
the truth was told I think it would come
out 'at tbev meant, from the first, to
have the whole property in their own
hands. For a'tirne they refused to let
the noor fellow have money on the
plea that he would drink it all up and
then, when he fell in love with Kitty
Mooie, they told him if he married her
they would cast him off forever. You
see, Kitty, bless her sweet face! aye and
tilcss her noble heart, too? Kitty was a
poor girl—an orphan—workin' in one of
the mills and the big-feelin' men
'lip- V, ?VS'l '«rf ^.V
thought it would be a stain on them if
their brother should marry her, How
sumever, Peter took his own way. He
married the dear girl, and he's the
father of five as pretty children as you
ever set eyes on, and as happy as can
be, not-with-standin' he has" to dig
pretty hard to keep the wolf from the
It was just in the edge of the evening
—a chill autmnal evening—that the
door-bell was rung at the aristocratic
residence of the Hon. Nathan Speed,
and shortly alterwards a servant an
nounced that a man wished to speak
with the master.
Nathan Speed had grown to be a man
of four-and-fifty, red-faced and obese
dressed in a satin house-robe pride
stamped in every feature. His wife sit
ting near by, was the same. Her face
betrayed tne use of the wine cup, while
the sparkle of many diamonds told
where much of her' husband's money
bad gone.
What a sight for the proud man to
meet in his own front hall! A stout
broad shouldered man brown-visaged
and full bearded: habited in a poverty
stiickened garb, and evidently very
"Nathan! don't you know me?—your
cousin Robert? Ah, I've had hard luck
on the road. Beyond 'Cheyenne 1 was
robbed of every dollar 1 had with me,
11 nd——
'"Hold 011!" The proud man raisad his
hand. He wanted to hear 110 more. He
knew of no claims which his cousin could
have on him. And further: "You prom
ised your uncle you would never again
apply for help."
"Have. I assed for help?"
"J'o but it was coming."
'No, Nathan yon mistake. I only
ask a friend."
"Then you'd better -go and hunt up
your cousin Peter. He would make a
boon companion for you, I doubt not."
Robert got away as quick as possible,
resolved next to call upon his cousin
He found Thomas at home, and clear
ly under the influence of wine—not in
toxicated, but his blood unduly heated
thereby. And Thomas was even more
harsh and unkind than Nathan had
been and he. too, tauntingly advised
the poor wanderer to go and seek his
cousin Peter, as one who would be a fit
ting companion for him.
And to Peter Speed's poor cottage
Robert made his way. And not even a
poor roof to cover "his head had the
wealthy brothers given to their half
brother. The cottage, really belonging
to Nathan, was hired of an agent ana
more than once the poor man had come
very near being turned out for nou-pay
ment of rent.
"What!" cried Peter, when the way
farer had made himself known. "Is it
Bobv? Don't decieve me. Come in
where it is light," And he led the new
comer into the little kitchen, where the
supper table stood, with the remains of
the evening meal upon it. By the
lamp-light Robert saw a woman—the
sweetest faced woman, he thought he
had overseen,—standing near the table
and near by—two of them at the table,
two sitting at the stove, while one clung
to itsmother'sdress—were five children,
the oldest not more than twelre.
"And 1 know you! Yes I can see the
dear old face, notwithstanding the years
and the brown tail, and the beard. Rob
ert! old fellow! bless your dear, true
oeart! how are you?"
They shook hands a few more words,
and then Peter exclaimed:
"Oh! Iviity! in all the days of mv
early childhood, saying only my sainted
mother, thiB was the only true and lov
ing friend I had—:nv cousin Robert. 1
was but a wee bit of an urchin when he
went away, but I can remember how
mv mother il J_o tf»r inv njin*.froni
-his--«eak-®ftiYo it had been but yester
Kitty greeted the man cordially,
though at first inclined tu be shy. At
length she said, with a smile that cap
tured cousin Bob forever
"Really, cousin Robert, I ought not
to feel that you are a stra lger." Peter
lias talked of you so much and so often,
and with so much warmth in his heart,
that have regarded you more in the
character of a true brother than any
thing else."
A few more words, and then Philip
bethought himself that his cousin might
be hungry. But no. He had eaten a
hearty supper just before dark.
•'I ate at the little tavern at the lower
end of the village, and shall spend the
night there."
"Spend—the night—there! You will,
ch? How's that, Kitty?"
"I think we can make him comfort
able," the wife said.
"Well, I think so, too, Robert."
By and by, after three of the children
—the youngest—had been kissed all
around and put to bed, and, by the way,
the little four-years-old Robert, named
after the elder of the Ilk, cried lustily
when tbev tore him away from "Uncle
'Oberl"—he was to be uncle to them—
.".fler this said Peter, in his frank, hearty,
off hand way:
"Say, old fellow, I suppose you have
come home somewhat under the weath
er, eh?"
Robert told him that he had left Savi
Francisco with between two and three
hundred dollars in his pocket, but he
bad been robbed between Great Sail
l.ake and Cheyenne of every dollar 0!
it. "I went to"sleep in the car," he ex
plained, "at night, and must have been
lioloformed 011 ton of that."
"Well, well," cried Peter, giving him
a friendly pat oti the knee, and speak
ing from the heart, "don't vou worrv.
Thank God, vou have Health and
strength. We'll fix you up a good com
fortable shake-down' here old fellow,
and we'll look around and see what can
be done. I wish you could find work
here and live with us. You shan't pav
a penny more than it costs us. Any
how, here's your home for now, Rob
Robert said he would think of it,
And he told the story of his visit to the
mansions of Nathan and Thomas. Pe
ter's brow contracted and his face grew
iark. He said but little. "For my
Kitty's sake',' he waispered, "I never
speak the names of those men when I
can avoid it."
It was very near the hour of midnight
when the trio began to think of bed.
As they arose from their seats Robert
took a hand of Peter's
and one
of Kittv's,
and so held them while he spoke. His
voice was tremulous, and hiB eyes were
"Petor!—Kitty!—True hearts!—I
don't want you to be spending the night
in speculations upon the future. I came
back to the old home resolvi that I
would put my three cousins into the
balance and weigh them. I have done
it, and you know the result. I told vou
I was robbed on the road. So I
was, but I had taken the precaution to
send my fortune on ahead of me so I
only lost the trifle I had reserved for
expenses on my journey.
"Dear hearts! When I came to reckon
up nn possessions, six months ago, and
fouud myself the owner of more monev
than I could eyer spend, I felt
the need of the one thing that was not
mine—a true heart to love—a heart to
love me in return—and somebody to
help me to enjoy my wealth. There!
Now to bed, and on the morrow we wi 11
consider. One thing, my dear Peter—
your davs of digging and delving are'
paBt and gone. Kitty."
He drew her gently towards him, and
she kissed him—a sweet, sisterly kiss,
warmed with dewy eyes, and a loving
smile, but she could not speak.
On the following morning Robert
learned for the first time that the grand
residences of Nathan and Thomas Speed
were for sale.* They had reached tlie
end of their financial means, and wished
to sell out and leave the place.
Then Robert sat down, with Peter and
Kitty, and frankly gave them a state
ment of his wealth. At first Peter could
hardly believe that he had heard aright
while, as for Kitty, she could not com
prehend the vastness of the sum but
tliev finally knew this: They were to
ue Robert's chosen companions thence
forth to fear the wolf—they and their
little ones—no more forever.
Robert went to New York, where he
engaged an agent—who was to work in
his own name— to come to Belmont and
purchase everv piece of property that
Speed Brothers had to sell.
There was great wonderment when it
was known that a stranger had pur
chased all the Speed property and that
wonderment was increased tenfold
when a week later, it became known
that Robert Ashworth was the pur
chaser, and that the palatial mansion of
Nathan Speed had been deeded to his
half-brother, Peter.
Aye, and more still to Peter Speed,
and to Peter's wife and children, had
duly made over all the mills, and
houses, and lands, clear of ail encum
berance, formerly belonging to the
others aforesaid.
But who shall tell the feelings of
Xatha and Thctuas when it came to
them that the poor wayfarer—the brown
faced cousin—whom thev had so harsh
ly turned from their doors, was the
"power behind the the throne" that had
furnished all the money? Oh! the tor
ture of their vain regret and deep char
yrin was terrible, But that was not the
worst-. The worst came when Nathan's
wife was brought to the need ofypplying
to cousin Robert for help.
The crowning joy was yet to come—a
ioy of which Robert Ashworth had
often dreamed, but which he had never
dared to promise himself. After Peter
and Kitty moved into the great house,
Kitty's sister Mary came to visit them.
Polly was the name by which she was
always cal led. She was two years older
than her sister, possessing the same
sweet face, and loving heart,
honest heart. Robert fell desperately
in love at sight, and she very soon loved
him in return. When she came to wind
her arms around his neck, and nestle
fondly and confidingly upon his bosom,
lie knew that it was himself she loved,
and his cup of joy was full to the brim.
Flowers in tlie Ilotne.
From the Toronto Globe.
Flowers'. How our thoughts brighten
•it that word! They fly back over, ten,
twenty, thirty, aye, forty years, to the
times wheu we wove garlands from the
ivild sweet blossoms. What dainty gold
11 necklet we have since worn has
f.'iven us the pleasure we felt when we
decked ourselves in a simple daisy chain?
.Hut 1 did not take up mv pen to write
"I ull(' iS-ll.to,,speak
to my sisters of the home "X "aKT"-^
remind them that nothing will make a
bome truly refined but flowers. Ah,
1 bey are infinitely more than rich furni
ture, and even more than books or pic
tures, or music itself, for thty speak to
•4-11. None are too, old, too young, too
ignorant nor too refined to be taught by
those sweet, fragile teachers. Then,
busy, planning housewives, find a place
for something that will tell you "God is
love"—a little flowering plant. It need
not be a rare exotic in a costly vase.
Primroses, violets, hyacinths, or any
sweet, simple flower in an ordinary pot
is quite enough. But you can make your
pot quite a work of art with a little pa
tience, ingenuity and corks. Take a
flower-pot, a small wooden box, or any
thing convenient, and glue on fragments
of corn until the outside is covered with
a rustic coat. Then fill with mold and
plant your flowc r.
Another way is—plantyour pot or box
a dirk brown then, when, it is dry,
gum 011 some of those pretty, cheap
scraps in wreaths or croups, and finish
with a coat of clear' varnish. Yet an
other way is to adapt common sea shells
and pebbles. Ah, they are little things,
but they will brighten a room, and per
haps a sad, dark, weary soul. What
memories they awaken! But a week ago
a pot of spring flowers was placed 111 my
hand, and with their sweet breath float
ed the' memories of ten years ago, when
I gathered Hie wild flowers and wove
them into garlands when was not
alone, but had the companionship of one
who now sleeps in God's Acre beneath
the flowers, when mv faith in God and
man was unshaken and tor that glimpse
of my lair, pure childhood I was strong
er and better. Then find a place for
flowers. For all your care and trouble
their sweetness and beautv will reward
you fourfold.
California Grape-Growing'.
Grape-growing in California pays
about as well as any form of agricultural
industry, even without discounting the
extravagant stories told about the profits
of orange culture. The Napa Register
tells of a vine grower in Groen Valley
who has a vineyard comprising onlv
twenty-one acres, but these yielded
enough to enable him to ship 100 tons
of grapes to a wine cellar in Napa City,
and 9000 boxes of .'Jo pounds each to San
Francisco, and still keeps on hand ten
tons for his own use. The grapes thus
shipped by him sold for )i30 per ton in
Napa Citj and at two cents per pouud
in San Francisco, giving him 55100. The
entire cost for growing and selling the
fruit was $830, leaving him a net profit
of over $4000, ot more than $2000 an
acre. Wheat-growing, even with the
most successful crops, could not have
paid over $80 an acre. The land that
yielded so bountifully could have origin
ally been bought outright for much less
than the profits of a single year.
Of the class of thirty-six who recently
graduated at Bowdoin college only two
propose to enter the ministry.
A Fight With Rifles Growing Out of
Trivial Quarrel at Supper.
From the Laramie, Wyoming Boomerang.
Last evening a wagon entered
Laramie on the North Park road
containing three men. Two of these oc
cupied the seat in front, and another
lay upon a bed of blankets in the box.
The party halted at Dr. Harris's of
fice a few minutes, and then drove out
to the hospital. The man lying upon
the bed was taken inside His name is
Charles Shelton, and recently he shot
and killed a man named Keys, at Sny
der's ranch, on the Little Grizzley, 30
miles west of Teller in North Park. His
companions were Messrs. August An
derson and Lawrence, and the particu
lars of the tragedy, aB. learned from the
first named gentleman, are about as fol
Charles Shelton is the proprietor or a
horse ranch in the park, and last Friday
wasat FiankSnyder's ranch helping him
put up hay. Another man named Keys,
who was known as "Billy, and who has
an interest in the Snyder ranch, was
present and Snyder himself and sever
al others. They were eating their sup
per in a small tent, near the cabin on
the ranch. Duriug the meal Keys asked
a boy—a herder in the employ of Shel
ton—to go into the cabin and refill the
teapot, and the boy refused, saying that
he was not in his (Keys'sj employs, and
he had no right to order hiin around.
Keys commenced to abuse the boy, Shel
ton interfered in his behalf, and a
quarrel ensued between the two^men.
Finally Keys left the table, and taking
the tea-pot, went into the cabin, return
ing |in a momemt with that and a Win
chester rifle. He sat the tea-not down,
and turning to Shelton, laid with
an oath, "I have a notion to kill you."
Shelton arose from the table, and dared
him to shoot, but Keys finally Btood the
weapon up against the side of the tent,
poured out the tea, and sat down again.
Shelton then walked out of the tent, got
another Winchester at the cabin, loaded
it, came back to the
tent, and, standing in the door, said:
"Now, d—n vou. if you want to shoot,
do it!" Keys jumped up from the table,
saying "ull right" as he did so, seized
his rifle and brought it to his shoulder,
and at that moment two reports rang
out almost together. Keys fell back
ward and Shelton dropped his gun and
ran out across the prairie holding his
hands to his face. Snyder started in
pursuit, while Anderson raised Koy's
head. The wounded man gasped once
or twice, said "Ob, my God I" and fell
back dead.
Snyder returned in a few minutes
with Shelton, who had been shot in the
chin, the ball ranging backward and to
the right. His wound was bleeding bad
ly, and his companions thought he, too,
would die. He could not speak, but
made signs for his coat, which was given
htm. He took paper and pencil from
one of the pockets and wrote: "IsKeyes
Snyder wrote beneath the question
the words: "He is
Tlie ball from Shelton's rifle entered
Keys's side, in front of the left armpit,
passed through the body and came out
above the right shoulder. Shelton had
fired his weapon without bringing it to
his shoulder, which accounts for the up
ward range of the ball.
A messenger was sent to Teller for a
physician, who dressed Shelton's inju
ries. The ball was found just beneath
the skin, at the base of the neck, on the
right side. Saturday night Messrs. An
derson and Lawrence started for Lar
amie with him aud by driving almost
continually and changing horses several
uea_ rea^lijothe city last evening,
ivfi iirti •.
says the chance for his recovery is good,
though such result is bv no means cer
tain. A portion of bis lower jaw is shot
away, and the wound is otherwise a bad
one. Shelton is not unknown in Lar
umie, having been in the city on bus
iness quite frequently. He is a brother
of Mr. N. Shelton, who was cashier of
the Union Pacific road for several years,
and who is now in business in Omaha.
Mr. Anderson informs us that the cor
oner was notified at once, and that Keys
was to have been buried yesterday. He
and his companion left for home this
morning to be present at the inquest.
Female Honesty Rewarded.
Not long ago a rich man died in Brus
sels, leaving nearly all bis fortune to a
young woman who was entirely unac
quainted with him. This is how it came
to pass: He was a very eccentric man
and set out like Diogenes in search of an
honest man. His'.tub was an omnibus
and his lantern a small coin. In the
omnibus he used to take his seat every
day near the conductor, and always
showed himself very obliging in passing
up the money of passengers nud return
ing the change, but to the latter he al
ways managed to add a franc or half
franc. Then he would watch those to
whom it came. They would count it
carefully, notice the extra coin, and in
variably slip it into their pockets. No
one had any thought of the poor conduc
tor, whose meagre salary of three francs
a dav could ill support such a loss. But
at last a young woman passed hers back
with, "Conductor, you have given me
half a franc too much." Diogenes, de
lighted, followed her home, made in
quiries, and as the inquiries were satis
factory, made his will in her favor,
though he never gave her warning that
her half franc was going to bring her
half a million.
Under Twenty Feet of Sand.
The tragic death of poor, noble-hearted
Ralph Gore, of Erie, has been made the
more harrowing by a knowledge of the
details. Gore was -a contractor, and al
though poor and uneducated, he was
claimed Gore, disdaining to take advan
tage of the means of escape until all' his
men were safe. They were all up but
one, Jim Keily, who was rheumatic and
unable to move fast. "For God's sake,
come up, Gore!" cried they on the Sum
mit of the firm bank. "Not to leave this
poor fellow," replied the contractor,
pointing to the decrepit old laborer.
The sand and stones were now Bliding
down faster and faster, and the western
wall appeared to be on tbe point oi
At last the old man reached the top
and Gore made abound for the ladder
but as he grasped the rune the bank,
broke, ana fifty tons of sand descended
with a crash. Situated as he was, Goie
was only struck by the lightest end of
the mass, and was buried in the sand
up to his neck. A stone had struck him
011 the head, but not with sufficient force
to kill him. He recovered himself in a
few minutes, but was unable to extri
cate himself form the^arth around him,
the pressure of which waa becoming
greater every minute.
"Boys," he shouted, "I guess I'll
have to trouble you to dig me out, if you
CJin, and if you can't. I'll be all the same
obliged to you." A hundred willing
hands went to work to effect his deliver
ance. It was a tedious process, for the
only way to avoid an additional fall ol
earth was to make a transverse cutting.
A sponge saturated with wine was
lowered and he managed to get it with
liis teeth. Hour after hour
passed, and yet the work of rescue
was not half accomplished. "Boys, is
it any good?" he cried, and they told
him they would work all nipht for his
sake. The ground above was covered
with people, many of whom were weep
ing and praying for the poor fellow.
Word was silently passed to the rescu
ers to hurry in tne name of Heaven, as
another sliae of earth immediately above
Gore was threatening. It was now get
ting to be dusk, and an awful stillness
fell upon all. "Courage, Ralph, they
will soon have you." called out a repor
ter, but the words had barsly passed his
lips when the dreaded slide began. The
doomed man saw it coming, and, ever
anxious for the safety of others before'
bis own,he cried,to them to keep back
from the edge for their lives' sake. His
upturned face waB a sight that made
strcng men weep like children, "Good
bye, lads. Remember me to To
whom Ralph Gore wished to be remem
bered will never be known this side
oi tbe grave. The fall of eafth that fol
lowed buried his brave, sunburned face
twenty feet under the sand, killing him
instantly.—Correspondence Cleveland
fine specimen of the true-bearted,
whole-souled Irishmen. O11 the morn
ing that he went to the Poplar street ex
cavation for the last time, he was heard
to remark that hiB orders for additional
boarding up tbe sides of the cutting bad
not been complied with, and that thie
neglect must be repaired immediately.
There wore about thirty laborers work
ing et tbe bottom when he descended,
and as he issued some orders he
noticed the fail of some gravel
and sand from above. Look
ing up he turned pale and shouted:
"Make for the ladders, men, there will
be a cave in!" A rush took place for
the ladders, and men' scrambled and
climbed over each oilier in the effort to
reach the top before the wall caved in.
"Quick, bovs, or you are lost!" ex­
JifrL 'V&A- .L-V
i' v^^sS:
Through Seven Engagements In
Hartford Post.
"It was at Winchester," remarked an
old soldier in a thoughtful sort of way aa
he recalled Phil Sheridan's valley cam
paign in '64, "that Commander Fay won
his shoulder straps. And when 1 heard
jf Fay's promotion in Nathaniel Lyons,
post," he continued, "it made my heart
jlad, The old Hartford post never had
braver man in it, nor one more willing
lo Blioulderiiis full share of the hard
ships of war. He enlisted in the ranks
of aNew York artillery command, the
aid Fifth, I believe, under Major Urban
now Colonel of the Thirteenth Brook
lyn, and was advanced step by step until
he Won a Lieutenant's commission, sent
to him by New York's war Governor,
"How did it happen?" inquired a
?roup of veterans surrounding the
you see," he eMr.m«nced(
"Fay has been doing, good
Bervlee, iSfti-
bad received a number of recognitions
from his superior officers.. At Winches
ter his command was pushed into the
thickest cf the fight. He had been ap
pointed color bearer of the Second bat
tallion, and waa carrying tbe flag. The
fiercer the contest rajed the more reso
lutely Fay kept the color in place, the
very sight of it cheered forward the
men to deeds ol heroism and daring.
Four membprs of the guard with Fay
were shot dead in their tracks. It re
quired a heart of steel to stand by the
colors, the list of dead and dying in
creased every momeut. The danger
had not escaped Maj. Urban's eye, and
when the engagement vaa through with
he rewarded his color beater with jhe
well-earned insignia of rank."
"By the way,' added one of the veter
ans in the company, "Lieut. Fay must
have borne a kind of charmed life.
Rebel shot and shell never touched
him. The battles of Harper's Ferry,
Halltown, Berryville, Winchester, Fish
er Hill and the couple of engagements
at Cedar creek all occurred between the
Fourth of July and the 20th of October
in '61. In the last of theBe struggles
Fay was captured with the most of his
command and was removed to Libby
prison. Then he escaped being sent to
Andersonville through the intervention
of a lady, whem he had befriended
while in the Union lines. The Confed
erates wanted to send him away, but
the lady's intercession finally prevailed,
and he was retained there until his pa
role. The battle of Winchester occur
red September 10, but owning to his in
carceration the commission from Gov.
Fenton did not reach him until early in
the spring of '65. He
never makes a parade of
the honor, and it isn't probable that half
a dozen men knew of his achievements
when he was elected commander of the
Nathaniel Lyon post. I have known of
taeq to be shot within afoot of a com
rade, but I never knew of four being
shot by a color-bearer's side and him
self escape without a scratch of any
kind. Yes, Fay was a marble cutter
down in New York when he enlisted.
When tne war was closed he returned
to his old occupation, and represented
the firm of Fourshear & Co. in which
lames G. Batterson was a partner, at
the Centennial. There he sold a mantel
to ac agent of Emperor William of Ger
many for $3,500. He has been in Hart
ford for several years back, and has a
first class marble yard and works on
Retreat avenue. He was a daring and
gallant soldier in the war, and toyed
With danger aa one would with a play
The eloping couple, Mr. Russell and
Miss DeForrest, who were married -in
the City Hall, Jersey CSty, on Friday,
returned to that city the same evening
and were again married by & clergyman.
This waa done to satisfy the scruples of
the lady. Mr. iasell is a New York
Personal Points.:
Stuart Cumberland, the English mind
reader who appeared in this -country
last winter, has recently given an ex
hibition at the Ocean House, Newport.
The most notable performance was to
tell the date of a coin which F. W. Van
derbilt took from his pocket. Mr. Cum
berland fixed apiece of paper on tbe
wall and asked the holder the coin to
concentrate his mind firmly on the date,
and then Mr. Cumberland traced out
the date on the blank sheet of paper,
and it was correct.
In a private letter, addressed to the
editor of a Paris newspaper, Mine, de
la Grange, tlie well-known instructor id
singing, makes this mention of that un
fortunate young American, the late Sfisa
Marie Litta: "She was favorite pupil of
mine, and always so studious and atten
tive, and
Simon Ferguson, an illiterate negrc
coal miner at the Campbell Creek mines,
West Virginia, told a Mrs. Williams that
she was possessed of deyils and that he
was the only man in the country who
could cast them out. Afi she had been
"daunsy" for some time, she believed
him. He then prescribed pokeroot,
smart weed, and ironweed, to which he
added grasshoppers, angle-worms, grab
worms, flies, and other insects. This,
being mixed, was placed in a quart bot
tle, set in hot water, and steeped for
some time. The quantity taken was a
wineglassful every four hours. She was
to have a teaspoonful of tobacco snuff
blown up her nose with a pipe three
times a day, while her diet was to be
nothing but raw salt mackerel fresh
from the brine and unwashed. She
took several doses of the mixture, which
stirred the devils up to such an extent
that she had to send for another doctor
to settle them.
It was the old story at Americus. Ga.,
of a beautiful daughter infatuated with a
young drunkard, who wanted to marry
her for drink-money. They met near a
graveyard a few nights and were arrang
ing an elopement. Suddenly, while the
fellow was in the midst of an eloquent
plea, a hollow groan came from among
the graves, ana a white figure moved
slowly toward them,the eyes blazed and
glistening bones clanking as it advanced
Begone," it warned tne youth "yon
would ruin this girl's happiness alter
her money." Tne trembling
knelt, prayed for mercy and then
ran away. Meanwhile the girl bad
fainted. Her father, throwing aside a
sheet rubbed with prospiiorus and
some cow-bones, carried his daughter
home, where she remains as quiet as a
dove. He never told her his masquer
ado and she has never mentioned heeJ
fright. r'i
Tom Thumb died comparatively young
for a dwarf. Richard Gibson, miniature
painter and court dwarf to Charles L,
lived to be seventy-five, and his. dwarf
wife, Ann Sbepard, to be eiehty-tlve.
Sir Geofferv Hudson dwarf and di
plomatist toCharleB II., expired at sixty
three, and the little gentleman's span of
life was shortened by his incarceration
on suspicion of connivance in the Popish
plot, in the gate-house at Westminister
where he died. The far-famed Polish
dwarf, Count Borulawski, for whom
George IV, provided, died also at an ad
vanced age. Dwarfs are better consti
tuted than giants, both mentally, and
Justice Bo wen, who accompanies the
•IifltdJChief justice of EDgland, now en
route fbT'ArttBTha.ie tha^youngest Judge
on the English Bench. He was~educa-'"
ted at the Blackheath proprietary school
where he rose to tbe top of the sixth
form. From Blackheath fae west to
Rugby, where he took the first prize in
mathematics and in football. There
were two brothers, "Big Bowen" (the
judge) and "Baby" Bowen, his brother,
who afterward went into the chnnih
Their only sister died early and was bu
ried in Lee Churchyard. Both the judge
and his brother owe much of their suc
cess in life to the careful training they
received from their father, an evangel
ical clergyman of Ugh character.
... ^upper's pTnaaclal Troubles.
A movement is oh foot in £ngl tad
honor Mr. Martin Farquhar Tupper, the
poet, with a pecuniary testimonial of es
teem, which, itisBtated, will be most:
opportune. Mr. Tupper is now seventy
four years of age, and has beei} engaged
in literary work for more than half a'
century. "One curious feature in this
appeal," says t2te London Echo, "is the
statement that, although "Proverbial
Philosophy" has had a world wide cir
culation, its author has not reaped that
pecuniary advantage from its sale to.
which in fairness he ought to be entitled,
and that this has been the case especially
in America, where onfl-and-a-half mil
lion copies have been sold without, the
author's obtaining the slightest finan
cial benefit. We hope this appeal will
touch the Americans. If they were tc
discharge tlie moral debts they owe tc
English literary men,, they would have•
to send across the Atlantic at leas*
thrice the amount of the Alabama
California Brandy. .'
The San Francisco Chronicle thinks
we must send to California', when we
get sick, for pure brandy. It says:
"Nearly all the brandies used in com
merce are colored, which admits the
admixture of foreign ingredients without
detection. The pure brandies are pal*
in hue, having no other color than that
derived from the wood of the casks in
which they are kept. Were coloring
matter entirely disused it is obvious
that the difficulties attending the sophis
tication of liquors would be greatly in
creased. In this general deterioration
of liquor and scarcity of pure stimulants
it is evident that California is one of the
tew regions of the world where ttnadu^
terated brandies must be looked hut.
Oar native wines, haoks to the inteiii
eent influence of the state Viticultural
society, are kept pure. Our brandies,
though a small amount of coloring mat
ter is used by some makers to give th4
hue which most pnrchasers consider a.
test of-:thefr quality, have.it ot been to
any appreciable extent adnlterated."
Seventy-six new Episcopal, churches
are being built in Florida.
anxious to develop her great
musical talent, that a moat briulant
future was certainly before her. I set
lier up as a model for all young ladies
to copy from, and were she still among
us, aud in full enjoyment of health, she
would now be one of the brightest Orna
ments of the lyric stage."

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