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lewis m. grist, proprietor. J Sit .Independent family Jtocspaptr: Joy the fjromotion of. thy folitiyal, jSoyial, J^yicultuyat and flfomintytial Jjntcrqsts of the $outh. . | terms?$2.00 a tear in advance. VOL. 38. YORKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1893. NO. 36. * A ' ""iJ no/1 roAiao/l liiq Viorvl I inor for liorllf wnrlf And heftW DfiV. A SOLDIER' BYCAPT. CHAR Copyright, 1892, by J. B. Lippinoott coi ^ ment w SYNOPSIS. W Chapter I?Nita Guthrie, a St. Louis r girl, is visiting the family of Surgeon Holden, in the camp of the Twelfth caval3, in Arizona. Captain Rolfe, an officer the Twelfth, proposes and is rejected. An old love affair & in the way. Nita swoons over some mysterious appuration on the eve of her departure for home. Chapter II?After Nita leaves camp Dr. Holden tries to unearth the mystery of her swoon. He suspects that Sergeant a Ellis, a recent recruit, and a man with a history, had some connection with it. , Chapter III?Lieutenant "Curley" Brewster, another officer of the Twelfth, is In love with Winifred Berrien, the daughter of Major Berrien. Captain Rolfs lights upon evidence that another woman claims Brewster's devotion. Chapter IV?The society at the fort gives a hop, and Mrs. Knowles, a married flji* fW\m a riAarhv town, makes a scene ? with Brewster, at which Maior Berrien f and Winifred are mystified ana indignant. Chapter V?Before Brewster can explain to Winifred about the Knowles woman his troop is ordered to march against the 8ioax Inaiads in Pakota. Chapter VI?M^J. Berrien hears some gossip about Brewster's relations to Mrs. Knowles and bars the lover out from a parting word with Winifred. CHAPTER VHL Letters from the froutt What joy and comfort they bring!?for every writer seems bent on convincing the anxious enes at home that there is no danger and little discomfort, after alL Telegrams and brief notes have been raining in ever since the departure of the regiment, but now the two battalions are reunited under Farquhar'a oommand; they have got shaken down into a species of winter cantonment with a goodly number of comrade troops ^ and troopers from the threatened department The weather has not been unusually severe thus far. Men and horses stood the trip admirably, and nobody growled at stiffened fingers and red nos$8 and benumbed feet as they rode in lone column from the railway to the agency, and, now-that fuel has been lugged up in abundance and fur caps and "blizzard coats" are coming and the ^ Indians hovering about the camps seem deeply impressed with the numbers and readiness of the white soldiers and all promises well, the letters grow longer and more frequent ^ it hrothen" ' j "We are doing first rate, Bess dear," wrote Berrien, "and all are hopeful that with the surrounding of the big band of hoetiles in the Bad River valley the moat uncertain feature of the business is at an end. If they can be quietly herded in to the reservation and induced to give up all their arms and ponies, there will be no further trouble. The health and spirit of the regiment are excellent, and, while 1 hope no emergency will arise, I can bet that if there should be a shindy the Twelfth will give good account of itself. Farquhar keeps us on the alert and there is no rusting. Gorham has joined from leave, so that Brewster, to his infinite disgnst I doubt not, has had to fall back to second place. He and Rolfe are about the only gloomy spirits in the command, and of Brewster I see very little. Ever since the episode of which I told yon and her most significant appearance at the depot in town while we were being switched to the northbound track I have not felt like having anything to do with him. How do you suppose .she heard of our move, since she left the hop before any one knew of it? There were a few other ladies there, I admit, for they were still with us when the orders came, and it had . cleared by the time we rend icd the depot She, however, seemed to hang on to mm ana noooay eise w me very iasu i am distressed at what you tell me about Winifred, and the more I think of it the more I am disposed to urge your instant acceptance of Hiss Guthrie's invitation. It will be the very best antidote I know of?a few weeks in St Louis society?if she has indeed, as you fear, become interested in him. Go by all means; it will do you good?do Winifred a world of good (get her some new gowns, and take in all the parties and all the gayety you possibly can), and it will be a good thing for Miss Guthrie too. "Now, this is strictly entre nous. Holden is worried about her, and in course of a long talk we had last night he showed me a letter just received from Mrs. Holden. Of course Bhe is all nnaat hr Wo hftdncr +/\ falro f)iA i and wants to leate the children with | her mother and come np here to him,' but she couldn't be in camp and there isnt a room to be had at the railway station. The place is just crammed with newspaper men and quartermas-1 ter's people. Mrs. Holden writes that ever since the night of that queer adventure of hers at the fort Nita has' been unlike herself?strange, nervous,! almost hysterical at times. She will j permit no allusion to it, and seems striving to forget it all. She goes every- j where, morning, noon and night, but | looks haggard and ilL I gather from what Holden said that, as you once surmised, there was an old affair which may have had something to do with her persistent refusal of every offer; but what that could have had to do with , her fright at Pawnee I cannot imagine. Holden agrees with me, however, that it would be a capital thing if you and Winnie would pay her the visit she urges; so again, I say, go by all means. { "By the way, I wish you would run over and see Mrs. Thorpe as often as you can. Her letters have a depressing effect on the captain. He tells me the only insurance he has in all the world is in the Army mutual, but three thousand dollars would hardly pay their debts and take care of them for a year if anything were to happen to him. Don't bt glarmed by newspaper stories of the lighted skies and howling ghost dancers. ^ Indians will dance all night on any provocation, and our fires light the skies quite as much as theirs. Sergeant Ellis, who volunteered to push through with dispatches to Buller's command somewhere on the other side of the Bad Lands, got back all right this morning and says he had hardly any difficulty in working a way through the hostiles. , That fellow, I think, is going to make a name for himself in this campaign. He is always ready for anything that turns up. "I hear that Brewster and Ridge way have had a row and do not speak. Some of the boys know what it's all about, but won't tell me. Do you know? Now, unless you wire to the contrary, I shall address my next care of Hon. Warren L. Guthrie, St Louis." Then Kenyon got a letter. He was now commanding officer of the post, and 3 SECRET, i v LES KING, U. S. A. I b mjpany and published by special arrange- ^ j was unremitting in his thoughtfalness j j and attention to the households of the j ' absent officers. It was Rolfe who wrote , to him, and Kenyon was well nigh at j his wits' end in the endeavor to conjee- f' ture what it all meant. * "Yon remember my saying I could find that stolen picture if I could but J* have authority to search one room at the ? poet. It is my conviction still that the man who goes by the name of Ellis was a the thief. He had a lock box at the post- & office in town, nttmber twenty-three, T and letters have been forwarded to him ; 1 here by the postmaster, two of which i , were not addressed to Sergeant Ellis or f' to Q. B. Ellis, Twelfth cavalry, but to ? Ralph Erroll, box twenty-three. When L he returned from detached service this *1 I morning the sergeant major handed him 84 his mail and asked him if those addi- I', tional letters were his. He tnrned red, : then pale, bat said yes. Both these were c from Louisville, as I happen to know; both were addressed in the same hand? that of an educated woman?and there , is no doubt in my mind that this Ellis or '"! Erroll has a screw loose in his record. . Brewster knows something of his past, ^ but refuses to tell. It is of vital impor- ]. tance to me to find out who and what he ,v is, for I believe him to have been guilty |i? of a crime beside which the theft of that picture is as nothing. !p( "Now. I want you to do something for me. A man will call on you within a few days, presenting a letter of intro- 0 duction from me. He is a detective !D from Chicago. He has certain inquiries to make at the post and in town before going to Louisville, and it should not be fj1 known that he is a detective at all. Give J him every facility in your power. Introduce him to the postmaster as a friend . of mine, if you prefer it, and let him oc- j cupy my quarters while at the garrison. ?. He will want to see the firehouse and ' apparatus aud all about Holden's quar- , ters. Kathleen is there in charge, and c Holden has no objection, though he ai pooh poohs the efforts 1 am making to ^ get at the bottom of this strange business. I hope I am not asking too much ^ of you. "I saw Heara last evenipg, just in from a ten days' scout with Lane's squadron over toward theWakpa Shicha. c He asked after you aud sent cordial regards. There are two other fellows here p who were on their honeymoon tour when , their regiments were ordered to the field. ,e It reconciles one to being a bachelor J almost." J* The major put the letter down and pondered long, perplexed and annoyed. re He had known Rolfe but a short time, ., and had learned to know him mainly ^ through Holden. He knew him to be 8 resolute, positive, even aggressive at .c times. He admired his soldierly qualities and respected his ability. But when 80 finally he rose from his desk after stow- nt ing that letter away old Kenyon ex- ra pressed himself about as follows: "That fellow needs a wife. He is too much ac- , , customed to having his own way. Til be hanged if Til do any detective work ! for him or anybody else. If Holden r! wants his house searched, Holden can Bay so." DC Two days later the major had the 1 ^ mournful pleasure of escorting Mrs. and j ^ Miss Berrien to the train, and as it ; steamed away eastward a man who had j ^ stepped from the day car as Kenyon j placed his fair charges on the sleeper I fj( came forward arid handed him a note I addressed in Rolfe's characteristic hand: -t, "I know who yon are," said Kenyon. j "You will find1 me at my office in the W( garrison when yon get up there." And stepping into the waiting wagon he bade the driver go ahead, leaving the detective to come up in the post stage. ja That evening he wrote a short letter to Rolfe, and the gentleman frofn Chi- ^ cago indited a long one?both of which would have served to surprise that ^ . calmly superior soldier not a little had ^ they reached him in due course of mail, W( which, however, they did not It was ^ some time before he saw them at all, for ^ when they were unloaded from the ^ mail bags at the wintry cantonment Rolfe, with Berrien's battalion, was miles away. Getting no reply to his missives and ^ little encouragement at the post, the ^ strange civilian suddenly departed after ^ three days' apparently aimless stay, and ^ the next heard of him was in the share w of a letter from Louisville. Could Major W? Kenyon procure for him anyhow, any- ^ where, a photograph of Sergeant Ellis? No, Major Kenyon couldn't, and war! ? very short in saying so. ! And now December was come, and . the air was crisp and keen in the valley v? of the Pawnee, the Bunshine radiant and 1 t-ll V_? e ^,^^+V. 4-V.o mn. 01 BpariLLUlgi L'Ut ItU IV Uio uvivu tuv t* tu~ try winds were howling about the flimsy p cantonment and whirling the snow through every cranny and crack, and the long nights on outpost and picket ?r were bitter cold. But through it all the various battalions of horse were sent ** scouting in turn around the reservation. and more and more the young warriors . dribbled away from the agencies and ? were next heard of welcomed with ac- ? clamations by the savage hosts in the c fastnesses of the Bad Lands, and every ni hour increased the prospect of sharp w fighting in the near future. But all the ^ letters to the anxious hearts at home ^1 were full of hope and cheer, full of prophecy that everything would 6oon be settled. The renegade bands were all "located" and being slowly hemmed in. , The Twelfth would eat its Christmiis ? dinner at Pawnee after all, they hoped. J, And in St. Louis Miss Guthrie was exerting herself to see that her charming J! guests were having the loveliest kind of * time. Dinners, luncheons, cards, thea- ~ ters and dancing parties followed in ^ quick succession. The new gowns were being made as fast as famous modistes n< could evolve and construct them, and Y? Winifred was rushed from one scene of rf gayety to another. 4 'Nothing could have been more charm- ^ ing than our welcome," wrote Mrs. Berrien to her beloved Dick, "nothing more j" delightful than the round of entertainments to which we are bidden. One has hardly time to think. As for writing, this is the first opportunity I have enjoyed in three days, and we are home Yl from the theater but half an hour. Mrs. J? Holden comes over every day, and we *L1 exchange -such news as we have Of the dear old regiment and the dearer ones ir who are our especial property. She is 6? what I call a genuine woman, and I like 6~ her more and more. 1 must tell jou ^ something I learned through her. The ; day after our arrival we were in the J" ; library, and my attention was attracted a< | by a large portrait, apparently a crayon PJ copy of a photograph, that hung over " the mantel. It was of a singularly w ! handsome young man, and 1 knew at r | once he must be a Guthrie. 'It is my " brother,' said Nita, in such a Bad, con| strained tone, 'taken just a few weeks before his death six years ago.' Of j ^ | course I could ask no more, but Wini- ^ fred and 1 both noted how utterly her face changed, how unspeakably dis- | ^ tressed a look came into her eyes. We | 1 could see then why Mrs. Holden should j ^ j have said she was haggard and ill, and I ^ | yesterday Mrs. Holden told mo scuie- ! 21 | thing of his story. He was barely twen- j r( j ty-two, the idol of the family and im- I mensely popular in society. He was as- j tl I sistant cashier in one of the big banks i p j here, and one day the sudden discovery ! i* ' was made that in some mysterious way ' e' { quite a large sum was missing, money i ^ I for which he was responsible, but he c could not account for it; neither could d anybody else. The matter was investi- a gated thoroughly. 81 WW?W?? "They had detectives everywhere, and t?olntely nothing conld be brought ,up gainst young Guthrie. He never gamled, never dissipated in any way, was model son and brother. Nita was wild rith indignation at his having been ren suspected. Mr. Guthrie offered to lake good the sum twice over if need o, and to bind himself for all his ealth to establish his boy's honor, and :>r three or four days all was excitejent, and then, in the midst of it, poor nek was found dead in his room, a alf empty bottle of chloral by his bed<ie. The world said suicide, guilty con:ience, etcetera, but Nita and others aew that he had not slept a wink since ie discovery of the loss and was crazed ith misery. They have always main- ; lined it was an accidental overdose, tot it nearly broke Mr. Guthrie's heart, ad it was three years before Nita would a into society in St. Louis again. They ent to Europe and staid there ever so in g. "What makes it seem probable that s was unjustly suspected was that the ink dismissed its cashier, Jack's most itimate friend, a man two or three 3ars older than himself, and a devoted Imirer of Nita's. It was even sup- j ised that she was engaged to him. e had no wealthy friends to 6tand up >r him, and Jack's death made it ap*ar as though there had been guilt; id yet such a sum could not well have >en made away with except by the aowledge or collusion of the cashier imself, and though proofs were lackg, he was discharged the very day >or Jack was buried. No one knows hatever became of him afterward, and >ople settled down into the belief that lis Mr. Worden was the real thief. But )w comes the strangest part of it all. he president of the bank was a widow who, for two years, had been a 6uitor ' Nita's, a persistent suitor, despite her arked coldness and aversion. Four onths ago rumors began to float as to ie stability of the bank; then came a in, a panic; the bank had to close its >ors; immediate investigation into its Fairs was made, and then came the scovery that the president had been a ;avy speculator and had unquestionjly used the funds of the bank to cover s losses. They found his body in ie river four days afterward, floating >wn by the old barracks, where jon id I had Buch a happy winter twenty sars ago. People say now that it was resident Percival himself all the time, id that lie threw suspicion on young uthrie because he knew the father ould eagerly pay any sum to cover the ss and hide the shame; but Jack's sath balked the scheme. "Do you wonder now that Nita is metimes overwrought and nervous? x>r girl! who knows what she has sufred? Who, to see her in society, would earn that bhe had ever suffered at all? 0 you suppose Captain Rolfe did not sar all about this when he was here en cruiting service? "Now you ask me to tell you everying about Winifred. Is she happy? Is e getting over her disappointment? I 1 not know just what to say. She is ways bright and apparently joyous in ciety; always grateful for every kind;ss and attention shown her; but she is rely alone one minute from morning itil late at night, and I cannot be sure, ie never speaks of him; and in all the hirl of social gayety here, and the atntion she receives on every side, I ink, I hope, she may forget her girl1 sentiment. Time will show," j.une migni nave buuwu, uui> umo ? t? it accorded. Coming home late one ght from a delightful dance their carige stopped outside the massive portechere of the Guthrie homestead injad of driving right in. "What is it, James?" asked Miss Guth5. "Another carriage here, miss. I think s Mrs. Holden just getting out." "Jennie here! Why, how odd! She Bnt home half an hour before we irted." It was Jennie, with a grave, anxious ce, at sight of which Mrs. Berrien irly sprang from the carriage. "You have ill news, Mrs. Holden. hat is it? Tell me at once." "This has just come from my husnl," was the trembling answer as she Id forth a telegram: "Major Berrien's )und serious, but not fatal. Mrs. Ber>n must not he alarmed. Do not beive sensational newspaper reports of saster. Wounded doing well." CHAPTER IX. Pursuant to his orders, Major Berrien, .th his battalion of the Twelfth, had en scouting the open country that lay the northeastward of the cantonment, alarming had the situation become, significant if not actually defiant is the manner of the Indians whose Ices were nitehed all over the nrairie ound the agency that the commandg general had caused intrenchments be thrown up on every ridge overoking that threatened settlement Adtional troops, including a strong force infantry and detachments of light tillery, had been sent to the scene, otchkiss and field guns were placed in tsition commanding the Indian camp, id night and day the earthworks were lavily manned and sentries and out>sts guarded every approach. Meantime the main body of the hosles was still ghost dancing and howl g through the wintry night far over the north among the breaks and lasms of the Bad Lands, 60 strong in . imbers and so secure from assault ithin the lines of their natural fortress i to laugh to scorn all premonition of saster. Runners had gone to every ibe urging concerted action and united ivolt Every dav brought new accesons, and all thatVas needed to enable lem to bid defiance to the encircling rce was the arrival of the great bands lat had broken away from the reservaons along the Missouri, followers and ould be avengers of the old chieftain, tting Bull, who had died in harness, a :bel to the last. Brule and Ogallalla, ncpapa and Minneconjou?here were le warriors, re-enforced by many a )w grown son, who had fought the hite soldiers summer after summer, me and again, in the bloody duys of ie decade past?the Brules especially, ice restrained by the wisdom of old ntogaliska, now ripe for any deviltry id well nigh unanimous for war to the aire. Without noteworthy incident, Beren's command had circled around to le east of the sacred lines of the reserition, had spent a day or two explorg the breaks and ravines of a dozen ttle streams flowing into the Wakpa fashtay, had located trail after trail of avois, pony and lodge pole tracks, had oured the wide valley of the ipain ream, but without eight of a single arrior, much less a war party. The ill smoking ruins of two ranches told, jwever, of recent visitation, and tha x>f marks of cattle mingling with the >ny tracks pointed unerringly whither le spoil had been driven. Meantime, hile nothing could be seen of the wily ;d man, every hour gave new proof lat their own movements were closely I aserved. Signal smokes went puffing i :y ward on almost every side, and the : ight sentries declared that twice just | jfore dawn of two successive mornigs they had dimly seen shadowy j arsemen darting over the neighboring i dges and had heard tho thud of nimble I aofs. Even in the faded gray of the , anch grass, even on tho hard frozen round, experienced eyes could find cor)boration of tho story. Daring Indian scouts were ever on ieir flanks and front and rear, making o overt move against them, hut keeplg the hostile camp fully informed of verything that was being dono and j ratching restlessly for opportunity to at off every straying charger, to cut ! own every straggling man. Knowing II this full well, Berrien had given trict orders?neither officer nor trooper Almost in the face of the foremost Sioux his revolver blazes its challenge. was permitted to leave the column "by day nor the bivouac by night; and now its mission accomplished, the column had started on return march, and up to this time no casualty had occurred. So long as the isolated battalion was moving toward the hostile camp, nearing every hour the overwhelming array of the enemy and separating itself farther and farther from friendly supports, no bar had been put to its progress. But now the Indian scouts could see that It i was turning back, probably in the hope < of regaining the cantonment unmo- , lested. j It was a sunshiny December afternoon; the air was as clear as a bell, the I clouds that obscured the eastern sky at dawn had long since drifted out of sight, < and in all its broad expanse the pale ! j blue vault of the heavens wore not so I ? much as a feather of vapor. Who that ' , rode in the laughing, chatting, jaunty ( column that sparkling day could realize | the change a few hours might effect on ( the silent, breezeless solitudes around i them? At noon the sun was so warm ; that many a trooper had stripped off : j his heavy overcoat and turned up the ] "flaps of the rough fur cap. Except lu j deep ravines hardly any snow was to , be seen. The dull gray surface of the , j rolling prairie, wave after wave, lay i ] basking, and the leafless branches of the | cottonwoods overhanging the frozen i , pools were glistening, sparkling in the j j lifegiving rays. The advance guard, j j after breaking the ice and treating their { j horses to a mouthful of water at the ; , 6tream, had moved on at brisk trot, and j , now the stalwart riders were spreading ! out in extended order as they breasted I , the slope. Out to the west, full five hun- , dred yards, the wary flankers could be ; seen, some crossing the stream farther I ^ down the valley, while other comrades t appeared over the barren ridge behind. ! j that>o sneaking foe might crawl up unobserved and send a long range bullet j ? *' 1 J-l- J.1 M j from its sueiter aown mro me swarm ui troopers at the ford. So, too, the flankers to the east and the sturdy little knot of rear guardsmen just popping up over the divide so recently crossed, all told of ceaseless vigilance on every side. Berrien has not ridden the Sioux trail a score of years for nothing. He takes no chances where the security of his command is concerned, and has small opinion of the leader who subjects them to needless risk. And now one after another the four troops ride into close column on the northward bank; the men dismount, unsaddle, and presently, with side lines in hand, each trooper leading his faithful steed, the four herds are guided to the separate grazing grounds already chosen and "pre-empted" by wide awake subalterns or sergeants. There the side lines are carefully adjusted, the bridles slipped off, three or four men remain in saddle as herdguard and the horses are |eft to graze. Rich with nutriment is that crisp, dry bunch grasp?rich and plentiful. The mules of the pack train bray with impatience to shed their loads and join their envied four footed comrades, but presently they, too, following the bell, are streaming out upon the guarded prairie, rolling in luxury upon the frosty earth and kicking their legs in air in genuine delight. From a dozen little fires among the bare limbed sottonwoods the thin smoke iB curling aloft, and the rattle of tin cup and plate and the jovial voices of the men seem to clamor for their soldier rations. In long rows the saddles and equipments were aligned upon the turf, each man's carbine and belt at his saddle. Huge rolls of robes and blankets are unstrapped and spread to air, and all this time, while the troop officers are looking to the comfort and security of their horses, Major Berrien, followed by a single orderly, is riding about from point to point to satisfy himself that the guards are stationed where best they can secure the bivouac against surprise. The ridge to the southwest is higher than those which limit the view at other points, and thither Berrien is now riding at easy lope. Rolfe and Hazlett, watching him for a moment, exchange an appreciative nod as they hear from the group of soldiers at the nearest camp fire Borne brawny son of the old sod remark, "Just luck at the ould man now; ' - IL-i !11 3ure it's a smart reusain tuai wm wvci get through the pickets he posts." Not c since the days of old "Major Slowtrot," old "Pap" Thomas, has there been a battalion commander better loved by the rank and tile. They know nothing will ever induce him to forget one precaution for their safety, and reward his care with a loyalty of devotion good to sea Watching him still further, Hazlett notes that a distant vedette has signaled, and that Berrien, slowly now, is riding up the slope to join him. A sergeant has some question to ask at the moment, and when Hazlett again looks ' out to the southwest, major, orderly and J vedette have disappeared from view around a little shoulder of bluff. Other I vedettes can be seen at their posts on all I sides, and a few dismounted sentries lying prone where, unseen themselves, they can scan the country to their front. But Hazlett's curiosity is excited by the fact that two men, mere specks in the j distance, are huddling together at the i crest half a mile away to the southwest J and evidently watching something out at their front and motioning to the sergeant back with the supports. Presently - - - * i ' 1 A 11 this trooper, too, trots out to join uiem. Berrien aud his party are still out of sight from camp. 1 "Captain, may I borrow your field- I glasses?" asked Mr. Brewster, swinging I np to the fire where Hazlett 6tands. "I i have lent mine to the sergeant of the 1 guard." i "Did you see where the major went?" i asks Hazlett by way of reply, as he I hands the desired instrument. 1 "I last saw him at the point yonder, i He rode around it with Sergeant Ellis i and a couple of men, and that vedette 1 must have been calling to him. It i seems to me they've been gone some | time; so Gorham says I can ride out and 1 find out what it means." i "I'd go with you, Brewster, but my l horse is out at herd. Take the glasses 1 with you, anyhow." Brewster's big 1 black is led up at the moment, and the lieutenant quickly mounts and canters i easily away. I Meantime, old Berrien, who has noted i the signals of tho vedette referred to, i has joined him, with the brief inquiry, i "What is it, Scott?" "Why, sir, I was posted hero by the i sergeant, and he had no sooner gone than I saw what I took to be horsemen i in tho valley several miles out yonder to i the southwest. The major can see the whole country from a butto that lies perhaps three hundred yards farther out beyond this ridge. But hero conies tho sergeant back, sir." It is Ellis, cantering briskly from the advanced position Scott lias designated, and coming to them now around tho shoulder of tho bluff a little to tho right. That Ellis has seen something is evident; his faco shows it in an instant. "An Indian war party, major, perhaps a dozen, rodo from behind a long ridge over to tho west and down into the valley of what I tako to be a branch of tho Porcupine. That butto hides a good deal of the valley; tat we can see I f it from there, though.?^J|r i ? "Yon three men comowith me," says : f Berrien quietly. "We must look into 1 this." ... 1 Two minutes' lope brings them to the t butte Ellis ha3 pointed out. Leaving I their horses with the orderly, Berrien, < the sergeant and the sentinel go crouch- t ing up the hither slope, throw them- i selves on the ground an^ crawl to the 1 summit. As the vedette has said, the i whole country for miles in every direc- t tion can be seen?a country of bold con- < tours, of bare, rounded bluffs and buttes, 1 of deep, shadowy ravines and gulches? i a country bare of trees save the ghostly, leafless cottonwoods perched by the 1 banks of many a frozen stream. Miles i and miles to the north and northwest ' the wild Indian land spreads before their i ayes. Close at hand, tumbling, billowy ? ? v it. ?IJ Alia BDrupt, UlO fiugco iwuvn v* Uibvicopt one another In rapid succession. ' The face of the land is cut up into tortuous "breaks," the deep, narrow beds of countless little streams, all winding tributary to the river that flows placidly away to the northeast in the broad val ley from which the column marched at [lawn. Beyond that, west of north, clearly, sharnlg dffiyedj^the distance, already altera^tfB^glsAngibifacb^Snd ghostly shade under the slanting rays of a the westering sun, a tumbling mass of 1 jagged, fantastic shapes, a tangle of r vertical cliffs and seamed, and furrowed t walls, a labyrinth of gorges, gullies, r washed out channels, deep, black crev- c ices, and broad, yawning, impassable r julfs, the storied Bad Lands of Dakota, a shunned by all except the renegade and ]] outlaw in the past, now habitable only g by the Indian. Beyond these, faint and t lim in the distance, the snow covered, c pine crested summits in the Black Hills, p A.11 the rest of the surface, east, west G ind south, a frozen sea of gray, glinting g lere and there in the declining rays; and y there off to the southwest, perhaps five a miles away, lies the valley into which 0 ;he party of dusky warriors has gal- g oped so short a time before?the valley D ceyond which, a long, long day's march ^ iway, stands the guarded camp of com- v ade soldiery awaiting their return. B Berrien studies the scene long and care- p "ully through his glasses. Intermediate "idges are not many, but they are sharp p ind clearly defined. j, "Who was it reported that the ad- c ranee saw signal smokes south of us at j loon?" he asks. t "Corporal Waite, sir; he and two or he men saw them plainly, and they ? seemed to be answered off here." And Ellis points miles away to the west \ Berrien ponders a moment "Where away would you locate the igency, sergeant, if you were going to sake a bee line for it?" "Out off here, sir." x "And they crossed that line going into 11 she valley?" "They certainly did, sir, and? Look, 8 najort look yonderl Another band, md from exactly the same place." J A little bevy of dark objects darts inddenly into view from behind a cursainlike divide and goes skimming over c i level stretch toward the lowlands of she valley. Berrien's glasses seem glued ? his eyes. * "Twenty of them in that party! What lo they see? What's their hurry? They ivould not expose themselves to our & new unless there were urgent need for 8 laste." 8 "The old road comes in from that di- r ection, sir," answers Ellis. "We left it i few hours out from the cantonment, e ? you remember. Can anything have a >een seen along that road to give rise to c signal smokes?1 h Berrien turns half or<g and looks r teenly into the sergeant's intelligent v ;ace. "That road has been abandoned for j veeks past. Everybody to the east of \ is has taken refuge at the railway long \ lince, Nobody would be coming from E ;hat direction." r "1 know that, sir; but would not any c letachment coming from the agency to r neet us, for instance, be apt to keep v ;he road? 1 understood we were to fc itrike for it in the morning and follow c t in." . t Again Berrien gazes long and earnest- t y through the binocular. "They are i certainly heading for that road and s iding at full speed. How many men lave yon at this front?" he quickly t isks. a "Just eight, sir, all told, but eight j nore are almost within call over on mr left flank. Yonder is the ridge . vhere my men are posted." And Ellis g joints to their left rear where lies the ow crest. . "Just keep a good lookout here, Serjeant. I will move them over this way 11 ind then ride to the left flank. My 3 lorse, orderly." And, thinking deeply >ver the matter as he rides, Berrien 15 ipurs into a lively canter across an in^rvening dip in the prairie. "Some j; nischief ahead," he mutters. "They * ire not speeding up that valley for noth- 1 ng. We may have to saddle and get v )ver there." c Not two hundred yards has he ridden vhen from the point which he has just L piitted there comes a sudden yell of s varning, followed almost instantly by J ;wo shots in quick succession. Then ? jang! bang! another two, and, as he I ivhirls about, the first object that meets c lis startled gaze is Ellis' handsome black 1 lorse plunging to earth almost at the v o dV>q11/->w rnirinn onm? <listance S ;ugu V* (IDUUUVM A KA V 1UV k/v&uv >ut in front of the butte. "My God, sir," cries the orderly, "Ser- p jeant Ellis is killed I" 1 Berrien's heart bounds. There, face lownward upon the sward, motionless, iust a few feet away from tho plunging, \ ieath 6tricken horse, lies the sergeant, t lis carbine dropped from his nerveless c land. At the same instant red, glitter- g ng, bedaubed with paint, bespangled c with cheap finery, two young Indian I craves lash their ponies into furious gal- f op as they shoot up out of the shallow c ravine, and rifles in hand, coupsticks idvanced, race madly toward the strick- ? ;n trooper in eager effort to secure the j ;rophy of their prowess, the coveted l scalp of the fallen foe. s "Your carbine, man!" yells Berrien to t lis orderly. "Quick! Shoot that lead- f ;r!" And putting spurs to his snorting j liorse, reckless of tho fact that he is [ inned only with revolver and that tho ] ravine may be full of Indians, the vet- [ jran soldier drives full tilt at the charging braves. He thinks only of the fact j ihat one of his men lies prostrate and r lelpless before them. They are almost t upon Ellis before Berrien has galloped a rod. They are within twenty paces of i liirn when, with a shout of delight, the j major sees him whirl suddenly over, [jrasp his carbine, and, all in a second, the flame leaps from tho bronzed muz- I j zle, the foremost warrior drops his rifle, whirls up a clinching, convulsive hand and topples headforemost out of the saddle. Scott, the vedette, echoes with another shot that kicks up tho dust close under the second pony's flashing heels. Its red rider veers in broad circle J to tho right, and in the twinkling of an ! eye the feathered war bonnet bows low over the pony's stretching neck, ber- | rien's bullet whizzes harmlessly above, | 1 and the major himself, borne by the 1 rush of his half maddened steed, dashes on past Ellis, now kneeling for another | ' Bhot, and goes crash into the midst of a ' ] little knot of yelling warriors just i 1 bounding up out of the gully to the res- j j cue of their stricken comrade. "Bess, my wife; Winnie," are the only words j ' ho has time or thought to mutter, for ' instant death seems inevitable. But all the old fighting instinct is up- ! permost, and almost in tho fuce of the j ' foremost Sioux his revolver blazes its ! { challenge, and horse and pony meet in | ' tremendous shock, and the lighter steed goes tumbling and rolling over tho turf. Thero is chorus of yells, shots, soldier | 1 cheers, thundering hoofs. Thero is aj 1 vision of glittering steel in front of his j eyes, of hideous painted face, a sudjden | sense of stum Die ana stunning ran, a shrill whoop of triumph, changing instantly into the death cry, and while his Brule antagonist goes crashing down, pony and all, Berrien is conscious of the superb leap of a big black charger over lis own prostrate form, of a stentorian sheer from half a dozen trooper throats, ind the next.minute Brewster is kneeing by his side, raising the honored gray lead in his strong young arms, and the roice that thundered in battle cry but m instant agone is trembling now as he sails for a canteen of water and bids his lalf stunned commander not to strive to nove. "We've got two of them, sir, all right," le whispers, breathless, but well knowng that to be the best news he can give. The rest got away and left a bullet hole n your shoulder." [to bk continued next week.] piscdlanwus Reading. MY FAIR CLIENT. A Lawyer's Interesting Story. In the snrine of 1881 I was called to , town in Alabama, to attend court, laving been engaged to defend a young nan who had been charged with robling the mail. I arrived early in the norning, and immediately had a long onference with my client. The stolen nail-bag had been recovered, as well a the letters from which the money tad been rifled. These letters were ,iven me for examination, and I reurned them to the prosecuting attorley. Having got through ray private ireliminaries, about noon I went into ourt in the afternoon to see what was ;oing on. The first case that came up ras one of theft, and the prisoner was . young girl not more than 17 years if age, named Elizabeth Madworth. ihe was very pretty, and bore that nild and innocent look which we sellom find in a culprit. She had been veeping profusely, but as she found so aany eyes upon her, she became too rightened to weep more. The complaint against her set forth hat she had stolen a hundred dolars from a Mrs. Naseby, and as the ase went on I found that this Mrs. Naseby, a wealthy widow living in " w -? * lefore. About two weeks ago, she aid her mistress lost a hundred dollars. "She missed it from her drawer," he girl said to me, "and asked me ,bout it. I said I knew nothing about t. That evening I know Nancy Luthr told Mrs. Naseby that she saw me ake the money from the drawer?that he watched me through the keyhole. They went to my trunk, and found wenty-five dollars of the missing aoney. But, sir, I never took it, and omebody must have put it there." I then asked her if she suspected my one. "I don't know," she said, "who ould have done it but Nancy. She las never liked mc, because she hought I was treated better than she vas. She is the cook. And I was the :hamberinaid." She pointed Nancy Luther out to ne. She was a stout, bold-faced girl, omewhere about five-and-twenty 'ears old, with low forehead, small ;. ay eyes, a pug nose, and thick lips, caught her glance at once, as it rested ?n the fair young prisoner, and the noment I detected the look of hatred vhich I read there I was convinced he was the rogue. "Nancy Luther did you say that [irl's name was?" I asked, for a new ight had broken in upon me. "Yes, sir." I left the court-room and went to the irosecutinir attorney, and asked foi lie letters I had handed him?the >nes stolen from the mail-hag. He ;ave them to me, and having selected me, I returned the rest, and told him would see he had the one I kept beore night. I then returned to the :ourt-rooin and the ease went on. Mrs. Naseby resumed her testimony, >he said she entrusted the room to the irisoner's care, and that no one else lad access there save herself. Then ihe described about missing the money tnd closed by telling how she had ound twenty-five dollars of it in the irisoner's trunk. She could swear t was the identical money she had ost, in two tens and one five dollar >nnk note. "Mrs. Naseby," said I, "when you irst missed the money, had you any enson to suspect that the prisoner had ,aken it?" "No, sir," she answered. "Had you ever before detected bei 11 any dishonesty ?" "No, sir." "Should you have thought of search ug her trunk had not Nancy Luthci id vised and informed you?" "No, sir." Mrs. Naseby left the stand, and S'ancy Luther took her place. Slu ,'anie up with a bold look, and upon ne she cast a defiant glance, as if ti my, "Trap me if you can." She gavt ler evidence as follows: She said that 011 the night the money ,vas taken she saw the prisoner goiiifj ij> stairs, ana irom uie ?iy uuuim-i which slie went up, she suspected ill was not right. She followed her up Elizabeth went to Mrs. Xaseby's roon ind shut the dooor ufter her. I stoop 3d down and looked through the key lole, and saw her take out money ant put it in her pocket. Then she stoop ?d down aud picked up the lamp, am is I saw that she was coming out ] liurried away." Then she went 011 [old how she had informed hermislres: jf this, and how she had proposed t( search the girl's trunk. I called Mrs. Xaseby to the stand. "You say that 110 one hut yoursel uid the prisoner had access to youi room," I said. "Now could Xanei Luther have entered the room if sin wished ?" ' "Certainly, sir; l meant, mm, uu uijb else had any right there." 1 i I saw that Mrs. Naseby, though nat' urally a hard woman, was somewhat 1 I moved by poor Elizabeth's misery, j "Could your cook have known, by any means in your knowledge, where your money was ?" "Yes, sir, for she has come to my room while I was there and I have often given her money to buy provisions of the market men who happen to come along with their wagons." "One more question. Have you known of the prisoner having used any money since this was stolen ?" "No sir." I now called Nancy Luther back, and she began to tremble a little, though her look was as bold and defiant as ever. "Miss Luther," I said, "why did you not inform your mistress of what you had seen, without waiting for her to ask about the lost money ?" : 1 "Because I could not at once make up my mind to expose the poor girl," J i she answered, promptly. "You say you looked through the i keyhole and saw her take the money ?" "Yes, sir." ' "Where did she place the lamp when she did so?" "On the bureau." "In your testimony you said she , stooped down when she picked it up. What do you mean by that ?" The girl hesitated, but finally she said she did not mean anything, only that she picked up the lamp. "Verv well." said I, "how long have own, was the girl's mistress. Tfte ?oor girl declared her innocence in he wildest terms, but circumstances vere hard against her. A hundred lollars in bank notes had been stolen rom her mistress's room and she was he only one that had access there. At this juncture, when the mistress yas upon the witness-stand, a young nan came and caught me by the arm. He was a fine-looking young man, nd big tears stood in his eyes. "They tell me you are a good lawer," he whispered. "I am a lawyer," I answered. "Then do save her. You certainly an do it, for she is innocent. "Is she your sister ?" "No, sir," he added, "but, but?" lere he hesitated. "Has she no counsel ~f i asicea. "None that's good for anything?noiody that'll do anything for her. Oh, aveher! and I'll give you all I've ;ot. I can't give you much, but I can aise something." I reflected a moment. I cast my yes toward the prisoner, and she was ,t that moment looking at me. She aught my eye, and the volume ol tumble entreaty I read in her glance esolved me in a moment. I arose aud rent to the girl, and asked her if she wished me to defend her. She said res. I then informed the court that I was ready to enter into the case, and was admitted at once. The loud murour that ran quickly through the oom tcdd me where the sympathies if the people were. I asked for a Qoment's cessation, that I might speak vith my client. I went and sat down >y her side, and asked her to state andidly the whole case. She told me hat she had lived with Mrs. Naseby wn voora nnrl nfiver had anv trouble > you been with Mrs. Naseby ?" "Not quite a year since." "How much does she pay you a I week ?" "A dollar and three-quarters." "Have you taken any of your pay i since ydH have been there ?" "Yes, sir." "How much ?" "I don't know." "Why don't you know?" | "How should I ? I have taken it at ! different times, just as I wanted it, ! and kept no account." "Now if you had wished to harm the prisoner, could you have raised twenty-five dollars to put in her trunk ?" "No, sir," she replied with virtuous indignation. "Then you have not laid .up any , money since you have been there?" "No, sir, only what Mrs. Naseby i may owe me." "Then you did not have any twenty-five dollars when you came there ?" , "No, sir; and what's more, the money found in the girl's trunk was the i money Mrs. Naseby lost. You might have known that if you'd remembered what you asked her." This was said very sarcastically, and was intended as a crusher upon the idea that she should have put the money in the prisoner's trunk. However, it was not overcome entirely. "Will you tell me if you belong in this State?" "In what town ?" i She hesitated, and for an instant the bold look forsook her. But she finally answered : "I belong to Somers, Montgomery county." | I next turned to Mrs. Naseby. "Do you ever take a receipt from your girls, when you pay them ?" "Always." , "L'aii you send and get one of them , for me ?" ? "She has told you the truth, sir, about the payment," said Mrs. Naseby. J "Oh, I don't doubt it," I replied; "particular proof is the thing for the court room. So, if you can, I wish you would procure the receipt." She said she would willingly go if , the court said so. And the court did , so, and she went. Her dwelling was not far off, and she soon returned and handed me four receipts, which I took anJ examined. They were signed in a strange stuggering hand, by the , witness. "Now, Nancy Luther," I said, turning to the witness, and speaking in a l quick, startling tone, at the same time looking her sternly in the eye, "please tell the court and jury, and me, where vou cot the seventv-five dollars you sent in your letter to your sister in Sorners?" , The witness started as though a volcauo had burst at her feet. She turned as pale as death, and every limb shook violently. I waited until the people could have an opportunity to see her emotions, and then I repeated the question. "I never sent any," she gasped. "You did !" I thundered, for I was , excited now. , "I didn't," she faintly murmured, I grasping the railing by her side for , I support. , "May it please your honor and gen| tlemen of the jury," I said, us soon as , j I had looked the witness out of counte! nance, "I came here to defend a man ! | who was arrested for robbing the mail, | and in the course of my preliminary i examinations I had access to the letj i ters which had been torn open and , I robbed of money. When I entered I upon this case aud heard the name of 1 rvi<Aii Aimnn/1 T \lfntl f Allt. j 11119 Willi COO puuvuiivvu, A Viwmv www I and got this letter which I now hold, ; for I remembered having seen one ! bearing the signature of Nancy Luj ther. This letter was taken from the mail bag, and contained seventy-five , dollars, and by looking at the post. mark you will observe tbat it was , mailed ou the day after the hundred , dollars were taken from Mrs. Naseby's [ drawer. I will read it, if you please." The court nodded assent, and I read , the following, which was without date, , | save that made by the postmaster on I the outside. I give it verbatim : Sister DorcusI send yu hoar seventyi live dollars which I want yu to cepe for [ me till I cunt hum I can't cepo it cos I'm afeord it will pit stole don't speek wun i word to a living soul about this don't want ( | no body to no ive got cny money, you i | wont now will you. I am fust rate hear ' unly that glide for nothing snipe of lis ! mnuwnrth is hear yit?but I hop to git 1 over now. you no i rote yu bout her. giv [ , my luv to all inquiringfrous. thisisfrom yur sister till detli, Nancy Lutheii. i "Now, your honor," I said, as I gave i him the letter and also the receipts, ' i "you will see that the letter is directed I . to Dorcas Luther, Somers, Montgomery I nnlinlv A t, ,1 VM11 \l'i 11 nh?Pr VO t ll 111 Oil O | hand wrote the letter and signed the re i ccipt, and the jury will also observe. And now I will only add, it is plain to see | how the hundred dollars was disposed of. Seventy-five dollars were sent off | for safe keeping, while the remaining twenty-live were placed in the prisoni er's trunk for the purpose of covering I the real criminal. Of the tone of parts ; of the letter you must judge. I now i leuve my client's case in your hands." ' The case was given to the jury im mediately following their examination of the letter. They had heard from ' the witness's own mouth that she had : no money of her own, and without t leaving their seats they returned the I verdict of "Not Guilty." I will not . describe the scene that followed ; but i if Nancy Luther had not been imme diately arrested for theft, she would - have been obliged to seek protection 1 ! of the officers or the excited people - ' would have maimed her at least, if 1 they had not done more. I I The next morning I received a note, ; ' handsomely written, in which I was told that the within was but a slight ) i token of the gratitude due me for my efforts in behalf of the poor defenceless maiden. It was signed by "Several f Citizens," and contained $100. Shortr ly afterwards, the youth who first bcg; j ged me to take up the case, called i j upon me with all the money he could | raise, but I showed him that I had al ICttU) UCCU paiu auu aviuowvt mio ><mv? earnings. Before I left town I was a guest at his wedding, myjfair client being the happy bride. A BLIND MAN'S SHOT. I had come down'to the ford over the Smoky Hill fork of the Kansas river to the west of McPherson, when I observed a white man mounted on a mule before me. He was facing me, with his Winchester lying accross his saddle, and was evidently waiting. His head was inclined to the front, like one listening intently, and as I rode up he called out: "Hello, soldier." "Hello to you I" "This is White Horse Ford ?" "Yes." "There is a lone cottonwood to the left and a large rock to the right?" "Can't you see that there is?" "No. I have been blind for the last year. These landmarks used to be here, but I didnt know what changes j might have taken place." I rode closer to look into bis eyes. The lids were closed as if in sleep and had a bluish appearance. "The flame of a coward's gun did^ it!" he quietly observed as he dis-"" mounted. "Will you lead me to the rock ? Ah, I'm all right now! Never ! mind the mule?he won't stray. Opposite me on the other side is a dead* Cottonwood, with one side of it blackened by fire." * "Yes." "Now, look to the east, over the trail running along the opposite bank, and tell me if you see anybody." "Yes, I do. About three miles up is a man coming on horseback." "Thank you. I am in time. Sorry to bother you, but if you were blind I'd do as much for you. As soon as you can make out the color of the horse tell me what it is." I "It is a bay," I answered him as the horseman came nearer. "Is he riding fast?" : "Yes." "Does he wear a black felt som| brero?" "No; a white one." "Ah, that's good. Now, then, please keep quiet!" He stood behind the rock with his rifle in his hands and bent his head to the east to listen. From the smile on his face I think he heard the footsteps of the coming horse while yet a mile away. The river was only a few yards wide at thet point, with a wagon road running along the other bank east and ? mnn tifoa 5n airrVif. WliSV. UUIJ Llie U11C llluu nun iu Digun !'He's coming fast," observed the blind man. "Yes, at a gallop." , "Now he's passing the twin cottonwoods !" "Yes." "Now he's at the curve where the waters of the spring run down! "Yes." I "Now he's on the straight stretch to j the ford!" "Yes." "Bay horse, white felt sombrero, long black hair and bushy, black whiskers ?" "Yes." "Good ! I can't miss him!" Up went his rifle, pointed straight at the dead cottouwood opposite. The big rock hid us from the sight of the flying horseman as he drew nearer; but he did not appear to be looking around him. He was leaning forward in his saddle and gazing straight ahead. I did not realize the situation until too late to interfere. Had I been told in plain words what the blind man was there for I should not have put forth a band. He would have turned on me and killed me off-hand had I meddled. For two or three seconds the rock hid the horseman. Then he shot out into view from the western face. The blind man had been holding his rifle to his face for ten seconds. He could not sen the sierhts but it was the natural j way. His hearing served him as well as my vision. On the instant that the rider was in line opposite he fired, and the man threw up his arms, lurched right and left, and finally pitched headlong to the earth. "Will you kindly cross over and see if he is dead?" asked the blind man as he lowered his rifle. | I mounted and forded the stream. The man lay on his back, arms outstretched and his hat thirty feet away. His eyes were shut and jaw falling. From his right side the blood was pouring out on the sun-baked crust, while his right hand clinched the barrel of his rifle with a death grip. I rode back and said that he was dead. "Thanks?many thanks !" replied the blind man. "The boys routed him up above this morning, and I was sure he would pass this way." "Who was he?" "The coward who blinded me ! Will you please lead up my mule?" Ah, here he is! I can get along nicely ^ ' ' * - J T dow. (jrooa (lay 10 you sir ; uuu 1 rc- i peat that I am much obliged?very I much obliged, sir" And he rode ofF to the east and left ! me sitting on my horse and staring af- I terhim and wondering if I had dreamed it all. M Quad. "INSTANTLY KILLED." Death never comes as swiftly as that to a soldier unless blown into fragments 1 by an exploding shell. At Stone River I saw an infantryman struck between the shoulders by a solid shot. He was flung 40 feet or more and reduced to a ! pulp, and yet he was gasping 30 sec- j onds after being struck. At Second I Bull Run the man next to me on the right was shot through the center of the forehead. We were kneeling. He had his gun to his face and had fired the shot and cried out ''My God, I'm hit!" before he fell over on his side. I While we were forming battle line in the streets of Fredericksburg a rifle shell exploded in the ranks about 20 feet away. One man was blown into fragments?so completely wiped oflf the ; face of the earth that not a finger of j him was to be found. The shell probably exploded just as it hit him. The man on his right had a leg and an arm blown of!" and was flung 10 feet away, yet he was living half a minute later. The one on his left was cut in two above the hips, and one of his arms blown over the heads of the second line just forming. This man's eyes did not close for 20 seconds. At Spottsvlvania a sergeant on j my right was shot through the heart ! as the lines were advancing. The j body was afterwards examined by the i surgeon, and he said the bullet had . passed through the heart. The man ; advuneed at least four steps after being j j hit, and then clutched at a sapling and ; I said, "Keep right on; I've been hit!" | He must have lived fully .'10 seconds ' after receiving the shot. In the ccmi etery at Gettysburg three of us were | lying down behind a monument which j i had toppled over, and were using it as j I a breastwork. The man 011 the left ! 1 was struck by some missile, probably ! i a fragment of a shell, which uncovered j j the whole top of his head. He laid his j gun aside, stood up at full height, and i then shrieked out and fell backward, j j As we turned to him he raised his ) ' right arm, and his lips moved as if he were trying to give us some message, j lln; Pay and Soft Hands.?So many, at the present time, are looking [ j for easy jobs, especially among the young, and those at the foot of the 1 ladder not in possession of this world's 1 goods, that the following timely re! marks from Mr. P. T. Itanium will be I read with interest by many, and it is to be desired, with profit to some. He j j says: "One of the great causes of hard | j times is the number of soft hands wait- j A 4m6 *v* "o"" " ? * < * Young men are not willing to do what their prosperous fathers did before them. They wish to begin where their fathers leave off, and it will not be strange if they leave off where their fathers began. The successful men of middle age, the men who have a front rank among our merchants, mechanics, manufacturers, and financiers, were, many of them, at the bottom of the ladder a generation ago, and th ey have reached the top by their own exertions?many of them bearing very heavy burdens all the way. The men who succeeded them, will be men beginning as they did?men who are not afraid to work hard, and with but little compensation at first beyond the business training they thus acquire." Work Deliberately.?There are somethings that must'be done in a hurry, or not at all. Catching* fifea is one of the best examples apropos to this. But as a rule, it is safe to say, the .man or woman who works deliberately acr jmplishes the most. The deliberate worker is the thoughtfal worker, with whom the habit of sysrtem has become second nature. Any one may cultivate it who will take the trouble to try; and the most unsystematic, spasmodic worker will realize with amazement how easy it is to get through an allotted task in half the time it formerly required, by planning it all out before entering the office, workshop, or kitchen. The hurried worker is the one who fancies he is an uncommonly busy man. True, he is ; so is the man who tries to bale out a leaky boat with a crownless hat; and in proportion to the energy expended, very often, the one accomplishes about as much as the other. The busiest men we have known were those who neverseemed to be in a hurry, and they accomplished more in a given time, and were less worn out when their work was ilone, than many who accomplished half as much, and almost ruptured themselves in doing it. Think ahont vour work before be ginning it, then go at it deliberately. It will savu wear and tear of nerve and muscle, you will accomplish more, and what you do will be better done. ?Manufacturer and Builder. Hardening Copper.?A dispatch from Quebec, Canada, says that the local scientists claim that one of the most wonderful discoveries made in many years is attributed to Ferdinand Allard, a poor blacksmith of that city. It is a long-lost art known to the pyramid builders of Egypt of hardening copper. Axes and other edged tools made of hardened copper have been exhibited by him which in edge and temper rival the best steel of the presnnf /Smr illar/1 nrenared a sheet of tu" ?"V* I 1? his hardened copper a quarter of a line in thickness and had it tested at the Government rifle ranges here. At the flrst shot fired from 40 yards' distance the bullet was shivered into fragments; on the second the missile, striking the copper more fairly, was completely flattened, but remained embedded in the plate, which it merely dented lightly without cracking it in any way. This is claimed by experts to be vastly superior to anything the best steel could do under the circumstances, and the matter is to be brought under the immediate notice of the British Lords of the Admiralty. The leading military authorities here express the conviction that if on further trials in the English dockyards the discovery main- "* tains the same superiority, most important results must follow and existing systems be completely revolutionized. VST It is expected that another big shipment of gold, amounting to at least $20,000,000, will be made within a month" from San Francisco to New York, and this will come near to exhausting the present supply on the Pacific slope. The yearly output of gold from California, says the Boston Herald, when the precious metal was first discovered there, forty-four years ago, was about $10,000,000; but in 1849 it was quadrupled, and in 1850 it reached $50,000,000. The climax was reached in 1853, w;hen the gold from the California mines is estimated to have been $65,000,000; but from that year the production has declined, until in 1891 it had returned to almost the starting figures. The total output from the first discovery in 1848 to the close of 1891 is estimated at $1,200,000,000 or one-fifth of the total production of the whole world since the metal was first discovered there. The product of the gold mines of the United States for 1891 is officially placed at $33,175,000, or about half what California produced alone in 1853. That State now produces only one-third of the annual output, instead of yielding, as it did a few yeqrs ago, nearly the whole of it. He Knew Sardines.?Just after the close of the war, a public meeting of the citizens of Concord, N. H., was called upon to decide upon a proper reception of the returning veterans. A sub-committee on collation was appointed, the chairman being then mayor of the city, a gentleman more widely known for the excellence of the mackerel kits manufactured Dy mm than for the extent of his book-learning. Upon the question as to what should constitute the menu at the collation, the mayor named sardines among other things. A heated debate arose, during which a member of the committee mildly suggested that perhaps his honor did not know what sardines were. This brought Mayor H? to his feet, and he angrily retorted : '-I think I know what a sardine is as well as any member of the committee ; it is two pieces of bread and a piece of meat."?Hardford Post. &2P A sensible bit of advice was given by a colored mun not long ago to a quarrelsome friend, says Peck's Sun. It was in a brickyard, and two of the workmen had a dispute which ended with blows. In the skirmish one of them was hurt, and the employer, who saw the end of the fight, and was a mun of more temper than discretion, advised him to get a warrant for the other's arrest. While the matter was under discussion a colored man, who had seen the whole affair, madfc his way to the injured party and said: "You don't want to get no warrant, Jim ! You get yo'sclf two pieces o' nlnrcior?mind biir ones?an' put one i'*4**MVV" O O piece on yo' head an de oder on yo' mouf, an' you'll be all right!" Where instinct was stronger than both will and reason is illustrated in a story told of Darwin, who was accustomed to go the Zoological Gardens, and putting his forehead against the glass case containing the cobra de capello, to test his will and reasoning power. Darwin was perfectly convinced as to the inability of the snake harming him, yet every time the vicious snake would strike against the glass he always dodged hack in spite of his reason and will to resist the impulse. 8ia?" They were talking of their ages? always a delicate subject. "For my part," said one, "I always let the woman who is impolite enough to ask mo my age, tell the lib." "How ?" "I always answer. 'Oh, I'm older than you. I'm a year older.' Then I immediately add, 'How old are you?' It never fails She always makes me younger | than I would dare to."