University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis m. grist, proprietor.| A11 Jndrpeiulent jfamilij .Ifrii'spaper: .for the promotion of the political, Social, Agricultural an*1 (ilommertial Jntercsts of the $outh. jterms?$2.00 a yeah in advance. VOL. 35 YORKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 19, 1889. NO. 85. ANOTHER FROM THE DIARY OF ?Y .I1TI..IAAS H Copyright by O. M. Dunham, ami pnblisl American Dress Association with Ca> | % CHAPTER XVIL A HUNTER'S YARN. eg* ^ N a warm even- | W ing in October tho j steamship Pil- i | at tho formor placo and was on LJ(j: I BMBp made man, with mirlv rpfi hair f li m 6ido whisk1 f^SHl i'lffi ers? rathor ump^1 | prominent gray 4)lP eyes, mounted the gangway from below, and stood near the door of the saloon. He had just taken a cigar from his waistcoat pocket, and was in the act of cutting off tho end of it with his penknife, when a tall personage with bony features and a thin neck came in through the door and confronted him. He was about to pass on, but, at a second glance, stopped and said, as if to himself: "Henry Clifton." The red haired man turned sharply. "BobStapleton, by jingo!" ho exclaimed. They shook hands, evidently pleased at the encounter, eyeing each other all over, as if to make sure that no part of ! either was missing. "Well, and what have you been doing with yourself these three years past?" inquired he of the red hair, who answered to the name of Clifton. "Let's see; it was in Liverpool I saw you last, wasn't it? You were after that forging gang." "Yes, and I got 'em," responded the other, who had been addressed as Bob Stapleton. "It was a good job; I've had nothing better since. But what brings you over here?" "Oh, a private affair?something particularly choice," replied Clifton, sticking his cigar in his mouth. "All expenses paid and twenty pound a month." "Hullo! That's not bad. A hundred ; dollars and expenses. What is it? Is Scotland Yard after the Fenians again?" "No, no. I don't belong to the Yard any more: doing business now on my ' own feet. I'm engaged on a case involving a hundred and fifty thousand pounds ?seven hundred and fifty thousand of vour monev." "Great Scott! A robbery?" "No; no Euch common business. A lost heir!" \ "A lost heir? That sounds good! Come, we'vo got the evening beforo us; supposo you spin tho yarn." "Humph! I'm not so sure about that," returned Clifton, scratching his whiskers thoughtfully. "This isn't the sort of story that one tells to everybody. However," he added, "you're not everybody, though I suppose you consider yourself somebody; at all events, if you promiso to keep it dark, I fancy I can trust you. But let's g(?into some quiet corner?as it's a warm evening, suppose we sit outaide, where wo can smoke. I have cigars enough, and this yarn will probably last out more than one of them." As they passed out of tho door, a gentleman who had been sitting in a chair not far off, with his hat drawn down over his nose, and who had seemingly been asleep, rose quietly from his seat and proceeded tu tho door of a state room a littlo way forward of tho paddle box. Ho entered tho room and locked tho door after him; then he breathed a sigh of relief. Ho took off his hat and looked at liis reflection in the mirror. It showed the countenance of a man between 20 and 80 years of age?perhaps nearer tho latter age than the former? rvo rtf ?i*1%is*1i tt?na f V?i1 r kUO 1 WW VA puib V& " UIV1I M4IVH.1J I covered with a brown beard, cropped ! short at the sides and round the throat, but allowed to grow to a point on the chin. The forehead, cheeks and nose were deeply bronzed by the sun, giving a peculiar appearance to a pair of handsome blue eyes. The hair was cut short, any one would have taken the head for that of a Frenchman. This idea would have been confirmed when the gentle- j man put across h*s nose a pair of tinted eyeglasses, mounted in gold. He re garded himself critically. "Yes," he muttered, in the undertone which people use when conversing with themselves, "it's a good get up, considering the simplicity of the materials. Nc one can say I am disguising myself; and yet I doubt if my own mother?God bless her!?would recognize mo at the first glance, though my sister might. I must have been intended by nature for an actor; my features lend themselves so readily to a disguise. At one time I am an American; then an Englishman; now a Frenchman; to-morrow I may attempt a Turk or a Russian. But what an extraordinary piece of bad luck that that fellow Clifton should be on this steamer! Does lie know that I am on board? Hardly. And yet, what is he hero for? It must l>e on that same business; and in that business I am concerned, however unwillingly. Perhaps he has come to look up my record. Confound him, why can't he let me alone! I shall have a hard enough time of it without him. Of course lie will go straight to Inspector Byrnes, and when the inspector finds out if. - A T A il .i'Jl mat * am nui?wuui a mair In order to answer this question, it I must be observed that the state room j occupied by the bearded gentleman was an "outside" one; its window opened on the water, or rather on a narrow strip of deck which intervened between the rail and the wall of the state room itself. This strip of deck was just wide enough to admit of a person sitting there, with his shoulders against the wall and his feet on the rail?an attitude said to bo a favorite one with Americans, and which any person who has studied the circulation of the blood and its action on the brain will gladly put himself into. The window, it should bo added, was protected by a wooden blind with fine slats, not noticeable from without. The noiso which had caused tho bearded gentleman to break off so abruptly in his monologuo had been caused by tho advent of two persons with camp stools to tho apparently secure retreat which tho narrow strip of deck already alluded to afforded. Having established themselves there to their satisfaction, and lit their cigars, they began to talk in a low tone. But although tho blind of tho bearded gentleman's stateroom was shut, tho window itself was open; and as he had reason to supposo that the conversation was going to bo of particular importance to himself ho took caro to leaye tho window as it was, and even to sit down beside it. As tho reader will already liavo surmised, the speakers were the two gentlemen to whom wo have already been introduced?Henry Clifton and Bob Staplcton. "You went first to New Zealand, eh?" Stapleton was saying. "How happened your man?Valentino do you call him?? to be there?" Ho was tho second son, don't you see? and consequently, after ho'd run through the money his father gave him, ho had only himself to fall back on. So he started for New Zealand to make his fortune at sheep farming. When I goj/ there ho had been gono tho better raft of a year or more. Tho sheep farming had not turned out very well, >ut ho had got a sum of money somehow, and had gone off to enjoy it; yfiether he would come back again, aj/ whero he had gone, no one could/SB me. You ,'S CRIME! INSPECTOR BYRNES. AYVTIlOIliMN. led, through special arrangement l?y the well it Co., New York ami London.] may bo sure that if he had known that his elder brother was going to die, and let him into full possession of an estate worth three-quarters of a million of dollars, ho would have left his address." "It's a most curious thing," observed Mr. Stapleton, philosophically, "how some men will run after a good thing all their lives and never catch it, and another man will run away from a good thing all his life, and never let it catch him." "Well, as I wits saying," Mr. Clifton continued, "this Mr. Valentine?as I call him?had left for parts unknown, and my business was to find out where thai was. I thought it all over, and made up my mind that America was about the most likely place, for ho wouldn't be likely to go back to England, and, being of a roving disposition, and never liav ing visited the States, that was naturally tho first place he'd think of. And when a man goes to America lie's pretty certain sooner or later to fetch up in New York. So it was in New York that I figured I should find hira. But beforo^I started I thought it would be as well to make tho thing certain by sending on a cable message, addressed to certain {jarties in New York that you may have heard of, asking whether my man was tbcro. Sending telegrams half round tho earth costsmoney, Bob; but it doesn't cost quite as much as to go yourself, let alono tho time and the wear and tear." "However, expenses being paid," said Bob. "That's all very well, but parties employing one like to have a good account of their money; and a good recommendation is sometimes worth moro than cash in hand. Well, 1 didn't look for an answer inside of a week or ten days; but forty-eight hours after I had sent off the dispatch the landlord of my hotel came up to me and told me that he believed I was looking for Mr. Valentino, and that a man had just arrived from Panama who had met a party going by that name in Mexico some six weeks before, and ho thought likely he'd bo there yet. I told him to bring tho man around, and he camo and I had a talk with him. "He had seen Valentine, suro enough; I made up my mind us to that. Ho described him as near as could be; for though I had never seen him myself I had all the points about him from those who had, and a photograph taken four or five years before. The fellow said that Valentine had come to Mexico from New York, after being wrecked in a big gale at St. Thomas, and a friend of his?I'll call him Percy?was drowned in the samo storm." "You call him Percy, do you?' interposed Mr. Stapleton, "and ho was drowned in the St Thomas hurricane? And what might his other name be?" "I'm not giving names; I'm telling you a story," returned Mr. Clifton curtly. "That's all right; something occurred to my mind, that's all; and a mighty good story it is you're telling," rejoined the other affably. "So Mr. Valentino went over to Mexico, did he? And what did ho do there?" "Well, he'd brought some letters, bo it seems, introducing him to the president and somo other swells; and ho handed 'em in, and was received in good style. Ho gave 'em to understand that he'd come to settle, and grow up with tho country, so to speak. "One thing led to another, and at last they got talking about mines; and with that tho president gave him a guide, and sent him off up to a placo called Pachuca, about sixty or seventy miles north of the city. He moused about there?he knew something of mining, it appears?and examined the mines that wero working, and some others that had been given up; and at last he fixed on a bit of ground where there wasn't any mino at all; but he took a fancy to it for all that. i?<d went back to Mexico to see about getting possession of it. He managed things very cleverly, and got tho swells intercoted, and mado out that he wanted to let them into a good thing, and would ho satisfied with a very small sharo himself, and would take all the trouble of looking after the business off their hands into the bargain. So what did he do but raise a company, and the company raised a capital?you know how those things are worked?and they filed their claim to the land, and appointed him manager, and the first tests he made showed a bigger percentage of silver than had been known in that neighborhood for a hundred years. "That was the news my informant brought me; ho 6aid all Mexico was talking of it, and that Mr. Valentine's pickings, though they might be small, comparatively speaking, were likely to stand him in a cool hundred thousand dollars a year, which is enough to keep a man off the parish." "Yes, I should think it might," Mr. Stapleton assented. "And that's the way it is in this world, Henry Clifton; luck goes dead against a man for years and years, and no let up, and then all of a sudden, for no reason that over anybody can find out, his brother dies and leaves him a million in England, and ho goes to Mexico and collars a mino worth a hundred thousand a year. Tho million ain't enough, and tho mine ain't enough; ho must have 'cm both; that's tho way of tho world every time!" Mr. Clifton accepted this statement without comment and went on with his story. "As you may suppose, I lost no timo in packing my grip for Moxico, and I got there in due season and without accident. : I put up at the best hotel, as is always my way, for it costs no more in the end, and gives a man a good standing at the first send off. I made my inquiries, in a j quiet, off hand way; and I had no difficulty at all in hearing all I wanted. Mr. Valentine was there; nobody could speak too well of him; ho was hand in glove i with the president, and ho was at that i moment out in Pachuca, superintending j tho putting up of tho new machinery in ! tho new mine. If I had any business J with him, that was where I would find : him. So tho next morning, at 0 o'clock, ! I took tho train at Buena Vista station : to Oiueltusco, and then by diligeuco and horso car to Pachuca, which I reached at sundown, dead tired, and chock full of dust, and a precious cold, disagreeable, shabby hole Pachuca is, and I don't care who knows it! "But I was on business, and when I 1 i >r.. TT_t 4.1 ! leanieu wins iur. > aieiume was camping out about five miles above I hired a mule then and there, and a black fellow to show mo tho way; and by nightfall I had him!" CHAPTER XVIII. A DILEMMA. I "Til ND so you handg) ed him over tho l ''illib/J deeds of his esxjSjfes y jx'11 tate, and that's After chasing a man half round the world, and a little more, you don't expect to get through your business with hijai in five minutes. When I first saw him \ ho was 6moking a cigar by a firo that wss built outside of one of them adobe huts>\and drinking a stuff they call pulque, whicSkis the near, A, X est they can get to whisky in that country, and pretty poor stuff it is. Well, I stepped up to him and says I, 'flood evening, Mr. ' (giving him his name, you understand) 'for I am told that you are that gentleman.' lie looked up at me, and I said to myself that I had made no mistake. lie had on a Mexican serapo and a wide brimmed hat; but his figure and faco answered well enough to my description of him, though instead of side whiskers ho had a mustacho and chin beard, as if ho meant to bo a Mexican through and through. " 'Yes,' says he, looking up at me; 'and have you any business with me?' " 'Well,' says I, 'I think I may say I have, sinco I'vo come some fifteen thousand miles to find you.' He stopped a bit and then said, 'From England. Oh?' 'You aro right, sir,' said I; 'but before I go further, and to bo sure there's no mistake, I must ask you to bo kind enougli to give mo an account of yourself?your family and so forth?so that I may know you aro the man I'm sent to see, and no other.' 'And what if I refuse?' said ho. 'Then,' said I, 'all I'll havo to do is to go back whero I camo from; though I may tell you that if you aro the gentleman in question it will bo your loss, and a big loss, too, aot to let mo know it." " 'As to that,' ho says, 'I don't know that you can give mo anything I care to have, whatever you may have brought; but if you want to know my history 1 always carry my papers about with me, and I've no objection to your looking them over.' And with that he took a wallet out of his pocket, and handed it to me. I opened it and examined the papers one after tho other. 'They seem all right, sir,' I said, 'and I supposo I may as well take it that everything is correct and regular;' 60 then I went on and told him what had happened, how his brother was dead, and he the heir of tho property. He heard it all with a sort of strange look on his face; and when I got through at first he said nothing at all He got up and took a turn up and down, smoking his cigar; but at last lie comes back, and says lie, 'Who's the next heir after me?' "I didn't see just what that had to do with it; but I said I supposed it would bo his cousin or whatever relative was nearest his own blood. 'Well,' says he, chucking away his cigar, 'whoever ho is, ho may havo it. I'm very well satisfied as I am, and I won't have anything to do with it.' Those were his very words, and you may suppose I was a bit surprised. 'You won't havo anything to do with a hundred and fifty thousand pounds?' says I. 'Not with that hundred and fifty thousand, at any rate,' said he. 'But what are you going to do about it?" 6ays I; 'the property is yours, and it's entailed, and you can't get rid of it.' 'Oh, don't trouble yourself about that,' said ho, with a laugh. 'It won't bo buried in tho ground. And if the worst comes to tho worst how do you know that I am tho right man after all? I havo got tho papers and I am called by that name; but you yourself said that you never saw mo before; and you could not swear that I am not somebody else. I should havo to go to England in any case to prove my identity. But I prefer to stay here, and that's the end of itr "It was tho queerest caso ever I heard of, and I didn't know what to make of it 1 sat thero and talked and argued with him for an hour and more, hut nothing I could say mado a bit of difference. lie wouldn't havo tho property at any price, and ho didn't caro what came of it. I gave it ovor, at last, for tho time being, and passed tho night in tho hut; tho next morning I tried him again, but he was as obstinate as ever. Well, I didn't believe yet that ho meant all ho said, so I mado up my mind to give hi in a bit more rope. I told him 1 was going to stay in Mexico a week or two, and let him understand that if lie wanted to cliango his mind ho'd havo an opportunity; and then I said good day and rodo of. I went back to Mexico, and put up at tho hotel, and thought it all over; but tho moro I thought about it the less 1 could mako it out. If he was the right man (and everything about him showed ho was) it didn't 6cem in human nature to refuso tho property; and if ho was an impostor, who had somehow managed to get hold of the right man's papers, and to personato him ?why, then, what on earth could his object bo if not to get tho property? If anything, that would bo tho strangest caso of tho two. "I had been back from Pachuca just a week when I was told that thero was a lady in the house?an English lady?that wanted to seo me. Thinks I, 'Now,what does this mean?' I brushed myself up a bit and went down to find out. Sho was citfinrr n f-nhln in tho n.ntin with ft rim u,Vk'"o M,w v* "* ~ r""w? i of tea in front of her. Slie was a good looking woman, and as I judged might bo something under 30 years old. "I mado my bow, and sho asked mo to bo seated. After a little talk, says 6he, '1 hear you have been inquiring after Mr. Valentino'?giving his full name, you understand. I told her that I had 'Did you find him?' asked she. 'I did,' said I. She seemed a bit excited or anxious, and I began to have my own ideas; but I wasn't prepared for what 6ho said next. 'I wish you to know that I am his wife,' she said, 'and whatever is his business is mine also.' 'I am bound to inform you, madam,' I said at last, 'that his family has no knowledge of his marriage; they believe him to bo a bachelor.' 'I am aware of that,' said she, 'but fortunately I am in a position to provo what I say,' and with that sho took her marriago certificate out of her pocket and showed it to me; it was as regular as tho multiplication table; sho was married to him threo or four years ago, in New Zealand. I hadn't a word to say. 'I understand he has come into his property,' said she. 'Well, as to that, madam,' said I, 'so lie has; but ho has refused point blank to liavo anything to do with it.' She turned white and looked at mo very sharp. 'What do you mean?'sho cried out. 'Just what I tell you,' said I, and then I went on and gavo her tho story of my visit tc him. "Well, that seemed to floor her, at first; she kept making exclamations, and saying things half to herself, and biting her lips; it was plain sho didn't know what to mako of it any moro than 1 did. 'I must seo liim!' sho cried out at last, jumping up from^e table; 'I must seo him, and'? 'Speak of an angel, madam,' says 1; 'hero ho is!' and sure enough, by uio iunmesi cuaucu in uio worm, ui walked Mr. Valentino into tho patio at that moment. I don't think ho was overpleased at tho meeting; but it was too late to get out of it, so ho camo up; and I noticed ho only glanced at tho lady, as if sho was somo ono ho had never seen before; then ho gavo mo good day, and took my hand. It was a hit awkward, I said, '1 suppose you will wish to converso with your wifo alone, sir; I will lcavo {you.' 'My wifoP says he; *1 was not awaro there was such a person!' 'Is not this lady your wife?' cried I. He stared at her liko a man astonished, and then at me. 'I never saw her till this moment,' said ho. 'Come, sir,' said I, 'I have just seen tho certilicato of her marriago with you.' 'Oh, it's all a mistake,' put in tho lady. 'I was never married to this gentleman; I never 6aw him; I am tho wifo of Mr. Valentine.' '"Well, and this gentleman is Mr. Valentine,' said L 'He may have tho samo name, but ho is another person altogether,' saiu she. 'As to that,' said I, 'you must settle it between you; Mr. Valentine's papers aro all correct, and there is only ono estate in England with the name that his hears.' 'Ilut 1 have proved,' cried tho lady, 'that I am the wifo of tho heir of that estate; and if this gentleman 6ays ho is the heir, I denounce him as an impostor!' "At that, I looked at Mr. Valentine. Ho had kept his eyes on tho lady all tho while, with a sort of perplexed expression; but now ho smiled very quietly, and said he, 'I think I have heard of this * * I I lady before. I wish to say nothing ; against her. She seems to Ik? in a dilemma from which there is no way of extri- I eating her. If sho wishes to lay a claim ! to the estates, sho can do so only by acknowledging mo as her husband. But you have just heard us both declare that wo have never seen each other before. But she also declares me an impostor. Suppose I am; sho must find the real man before she can profit by the inheritance. If I am not he, where is he? (Irant, on thoother hand, that I am he, and this lady is my wife; I still decline to touch a penny of the hundred and fifty thousand pounds; and what I will not accept she cannot share. That is logic and law both, I believe?*" "Upon my word, Henry Clifton," ejaculated Mr. Bob Stapleton at this juncture, "this is about as jwculiar a yarn as ever I listened to! It's as good as a play and better too. When you get to New York, do you go straight to a manager and offer to sell it to him; and '* he I J ' 1 f?. ,VT'm ? UOU I glVU )UU il gUUll [11 ll.v: III! lb A III u I Dutchman!" "Good or bad," returned Mr. Clifton, | "it happened just as 1 tell it you. When Mr. Valentino said that, the lady seemed staggered for a moment; and then all at onco she called out: 'I seo how it is! You two have arranged this thing between you! You aro in a conspiracy to cheat mo! You havo plotted to get hold of this property and share it between you, and keep mo out! But I will have my rights in spito of you! I will denounco both of you to the authorities. For all I know, you may have murdered my husband and taken his papers. But you will not succeed; I will expose you, and you shall bo punished!' "Well, that made mo a littlo angry, and I told her that if she wanted to I charge mo with conspiracy sho had betI ter set about it at once, and the sooner the better, for I knew who would get j the worst of it. As for Mr. Valentine, | ho didn't loso his temper, but he said very quietly, 'I am not a murderer, madam, and you will only wasto your time in trying to provo me such. But I can assure you that, if I am not your husband?and 1 certainly am not?no such person exists in the world. Neither can you sustain the charge that I am aiming I ?either in combination with Mr. Clifton or alone?to keep you out of this property. I told him a week ago, before you arrived in Mexico, that I would have nothing to do with it, and to that determination I shall adhere. The utmost you can attempt to do is to show that 1 am not Mr. Valentine, and that you aro wel come to attempt. Hut I warn you beforehand that all the evidence is on my side, and that you will fail. I advise you to go back whence you came, and to give up any idea of ever becoming a great English lady. Meanwhile, 1 have tho honor to wish you good morning!' "Ho bowed to her as polite and cool a3fyou please, and walked out of tho patio and I followed him. 'What in tho name of wonder does all this mean?' I asked him. " 'Really, Mr. Clifton,' said lie, 'I can give you no explanation. You have heard tho whole conversation, and you must draw your own conclusions from it, as I do mine. If you bclicvo that that lady is tho wife, or tho widow, of tho Mr. Valentino who has inherited tho estate, you arc at liberty to act in accordance with your conviction. Tho most difficult thing will probably bo to make other pcoplo believe as you do.' " 'That's all right, Mr. Valentine,'said I, 'but there is ono thing you can tell me. Y'ou said just now that you had heard speak of that lady before, and the inferenco was that what you had heard was not to her credit. Now what did : you mean by that?' " 'Well, Mr. Clifton,' said lie, 'perhaps I may have heard of her before, or perhaps I may be mistaken in thinking I had; but I don't sco why the inferenco to bo drawn is necessarily a bad one. At all evnets, sho has never done me any harm, and I don't believe sho over will, or can; and I have no present intention of banning her, cither by word or deed. As I said before, you must follow your own judgment; as for me, what I have said I stick to, and nothing will change me.' By that timo we had got to the door of tho ollico of tho secretary of tho interior, who was a friend of his, and he went in and left mo in tho street, to do my own thinking." "Well, and what was tho upshot of it ! all?" inquired Mr. Stapleton. (,t, ..?i ? nr_ our. JL v 1311 t t'UUUU ft) 1U1. V-/UILUX1 TU- | plied; "but from facts that subsequently came to my knowledge 1 came to the conclusion that I might learn something by coming on to New York." "Now that I think of it, it's growing a j little chilly, too," rejoined Mr. Stapleton, j "and as tlio governor of South Carolina : once remarked to the governor of North ; Carolina, 'it's a long time between i drinks." 1 have some acquaintance with the head steward on board this boat; suppose we go down stairs?" Apparently Mr. Clifton accepted this suggestion; for when, a few minutes later, tho bearded gentleman pushed open his blind, tho two camp stools were vacant. CIIAPTER XIX. IN A CAKKIAGE. and accomplishments of the bride being almost as well known as the forensic { and judicial ability of her husband. Tim newly married couple did not entertain, I however, owing to tho recent domestic ! misfortunes which had overtaken Mrs. j ICetelle's family; they received a few friends very quietly and informally, and mado scarcely any calls. The judge had not been on the bench for some years I previous to his marriage; but lie bad a large and important pratico as a barrister, and lie now devoted himself to this i with inoro assiduity than ever, ueporc had it that ho and his wifo were very j happy together, and though some people i admired the judge's intrepidity in venturing to appropriate a lady so beautiful and so much his junior, thcro was nothing in their relations to indicate that his choico had not been as prudent as it cer| tainly was enviable. Tho wedding had taken place about tho first of October, on the return of tho Nolens and Judge Kctello from the sea- , side; and after a short honeymoon they ! settled in their new dwelling early in j November. Tho judge attended to busi- j ness down town every day; his wife ; spent her mornings at home, and in tho 1 afternoons was fond of driving out in the'park in her brougham, occasionally accompanied by her mother, but more often alone. Tho weather was cold but very fine, and the hue of the autumn leaves was unusually beautiful. But thoso who happened to see the faco of j the young wifo at the window of her brougham forgot all about tho autumnal foliago and had their thoughts filled with the memory of another kind of loveliness. One afternoon, while passing tho children's play ground, Mrs. Ketello caused the coachman to stop his horses in order that she might watch the littlo creatures 4 at their games, for nothing pleased her more than the spectacle of children hav- j ing a good time. Alter remaining a few minutes, sho j was about to give tho order to movo on, when her attention was attracted to a gentleman who was standing with his back partly turned towards her in a footpath that here approached tho carriago way. He was tall and well made; I10 | wore a thin capo ulster of dark tweed and a black felt hat with a curved brim ;5F<- * ' " < ?a sort of fashionable modification of tho picturesque Tyroleso headgear. Of his face sho could see only tho outline of the cheek and brow; he had a mustache and a short, closely cut beard. Why was it that the sight of this man produced so strange and powerful an impression upon her? Sho asked herself this question, but could giro no satisfactory answer. Surely ho was not an acquaintance of hers! And yet thero was something about him that not only arrested her gaze but sent a thrill to her heart, as if particles of ico and firo wero being driven through it. Her hands became cold and her teeth chattered, and yet her checks wero burning and drops stood on her forehead. The gentleman turned slowly to resume Iris walk. As his faco came moro fully into view Mrs. Kctcllo caught her I *1. % oliorn BAtinrl r?n/1 UJ fill! I V\ I L11 U OUU? j/ uvuiiU| uuu iibi 1141gers grasped tho frame of the door convulsively She could not cry out; her lips were parched and her tonguo dry. Hut her whole soul went out to him through her eyes. Was it a dream? Was lie a phantom? Could she bo deceived by some marvelous resemblance? Oh, would ho pass on without seeing her and vanish foreverl . ' lie had, in fact, walked on several paces, and in another minute ho would be out of reach. Hut either accident or one of those mysterious mental impressions which many persons havo experienced in some epoch of their lives caused him suddenly to pause, turn about, and look directly at tho face in tho carriago window. Their eyes met for a moment; then the woman covered her face with her hands, and sank back in her seat with a breathless cry of terror, bewilderment and intolerable joy. The gentleman, who also seemed pale and agitated, came over to tho road and laid his hand on the carriago door. "Drive on!" ho said to tho coachman, and with tho words ho entered tho carriago and closed tho door after him. Then ho pulled down tho shadesover the windows. Tho coachman spoko to his horses, and they moved on. This episode had taken place in a short space of time, and with very little visible manifestation of feeling on either side. Nevertheless, it had not entirely escaped observation. Two men had been sauntering along tho path sido by side, apparently whiling away tho hour or two that separated them from dinner. One of them was a tall, slender, graceful fellow, with sharp but well molded features, black hair and mustache, and a pair of restless black eyes. Ho was dressed quietly, in dark colors, and yet there was a certain jauntiness in his appearance that suggested tho sporting man or tho sharper. His companion was a considerably older man, and his face was of a much coarser cast; his clothes wero new, but fitted him ill, and lie woro a flashy necktio and watch chain. His small gray eyes had noted .1- /l,,c?r.;hn<l L'lC* JJUUU UU^UilCUV'U uw?w uwvui/vu, and as tlio carriage rolled away he nudged his friend with his elbow. "Well, what now?" said the latter. "Did you see that?" "What?" "Well, your wits are wool gathering, it seems. Did you seo that fellow get into that carriage?" "What carriage?" "That carriage that was standing hero just now with the lady in it. Why, what's got into you, Ilorrie? Don't you know who sho was?" "No, I don't. How should I?" "Well, you might find it money in your pocket 6omo day, that's all. Swell women like that don'p drive out alono in the park for nothing, I reckon! And may be, rather than have their husbands know what they're after, they might see their way to paying an obliging person a consideration to keep his mouth shut." "Oh, stuff! That business is played out. The swells aro on to it, and tho first word that's said they ring tho bell for tho police. I don't want any of that in mine, thank you! And if you want any one to helievo you know all the ladies that drive in tho park in their own brougham*;, you must find some greener hand that. 1 am." "I know who sho was, just tho same," retorted tho other. "She's tho girl that married that fellow Ketelle, a month ago." "She??the sister of that"? Ho stopped. "Tho sister of Jerrold NolenI You remember him, if I ain't mistaken." said the short man, with a chuckle. "Yes, I remember him; and when tho accounts are evened up I'll remember you too, Jack Grush, and don't you forget it!" exclaimed tho black haired man, with a sullen fierceness. Tho fellow he had called Grush laughed but made no reply. "So that was his sister, was it?" the other went on, muttering to himself; "and she's married to the judge a month . icrr> find tnlHnf* follmrQ tn rlrivfl in her brougham I" Ho twisted tho ends of his mustache, and switched tho too of his boot, as ho sauntered along, with the light cano ho carried. Let us follow Mrs. Ketellc's carriage. After tho first few minutes of speechloss and wild emotion wcro passed, Paulino relinquished her brother's hand, and shrank away from him to her side of tho carriage. A reaction of feeling had como over her. Sho felt a sort of indignation that 6ho should havo been all these months grieving for a calamity that had never happened. "Why did you never let us know that you wero alive?" sho demanded. "I put it off from day to day," ho said. "I had not decided, at first, what to do. I thought of coming homo; then I thought that sinco I had been reported ! dead it was better to let it bo believed so for a time, until tho truth about the robbery should bo discovered. Besides, I knew that detectives would bo after me, and I feared that a letter addressed to you or to tho judgo might betray me. At lust when I found something to do I decided to wait until I was certain of success beforo communicating with you. And finally, circumstances led to my coming back hero unexpectedly myself." "But Valentino might havo written, if you could not." "Valentino! Why, Pauline, don't you know?don't you see?it was Valentino who was drowned I" "Valentine! Oh, God forgive mel how I havo wronged him I" Sho turned asido and rested her faco against tho side of tho carriage and sobbed for a few moments passionately. But sho was never ono to bo long mastered by emotion. She forced back her tears, and said: "Tell me, tell mo all!" "Tho wholo affair camo about by an accident, without any prearrangement at all ilien I went down to tho pier of tho steamship, Val had suggested my making ono or two alterations in my dress and appearance, so that if any one were on tho lookout for mo I should pass for Valentine. Afterwards, on tho steamer, wo found that people wero giving us each other's names, and wo let it bo so. Wo occupied tho samo stato room and I used his things?I had brought very littlo of my own with me. 44 i-l.- /-?/-? 1?a n oil 1*ia nrL ~\JH LL1U V UJ U^v; uo twiu mu ui? nu ?/&*vato history; I afterwards thought that if ho had been consciously training mo to personate him ho could not liavo done it moro effectually. Then camo tho day of tho hurricane. Wo wero closo together all tho time until within a few minutes of tho tiuie tho wind.changed. Wo wero in tho cabin; there was a lantern buring, but it was almost quito k dark. Val left me and went to our room. I could seo him there; ho seemed to be writing on something that ho held up beforo him. Afterwards ho went towards tho steward's room, holding on by tho iron pillars of tho cabin as ho went. That was tho last I saw of him. IIo must liavo gone on deck?for what I can't imagine?and been swept overboard. No one knew anything of it until tho next morning." "Now 1 know?now 1 know!" murmured Pauline, pressing her hands over her heart. "It was ho?ho did not forget?I might have known it!" "What might you have known?" asked her brother. "Nothing; go on. When you found that ho was dead what then?" "Wo had agreed beforo to go to Mexico. Ho had letters and papers. I took them and went traveling as Valentino Martin. I saw that in that way I should get a standing in the place which I could not have obtained for myself, and that the report of my death would throw off the police. I was cordially received in Mexico, and put in tho way of doing some valuablo business. Everything prospered with me, as it had never done before. Tho story Ls too long to tell fully now; but in tho midst of my buccoss an extraordinary thing occurred; an English agent of the Martin estate came over and told me?supposing mo to bo Valentine?that bv mv brother's death I was the heir. I did not wish to enter into explanations, so I simply told him that I did not want tho estate, and that it might go to tho next of kin. I had forgotten that Val had a wife, though, of course, I knew all about her. She had ruined his life in moro ways than one, and was no better than she should be; but if his death wero known she would bo entitled to a Bharo of tho estate. It seems sho had got wind of tho English agent's business, and had followed him from New Zealand. I had a curious interview with her; sho charged mo finally with having mado away with her husband in order by personating him to get his property, and treating my assertion that I was not going to touch tho property as mere buncombe. But tho next day I got a letter from her in which sho actually offered, in caso I would make common causo with her, to go to England, prove her marriage to Valentine, get tho estato and then divido with me!" "Poor Valentine!" murmured Pauline, with a trembling lip. "When I refused sho declared war,' and said sho would expose mo as an impostor und probable murderer. She learned that I was manager and part owner of a valuable mino that I had discovered near Pachuca. Tho other owners were two high officers of the government. She went to them with her story. They told mo what sho had said. I had already made up my mind what to do; I gavo them tho whole history of what had happened since Valentino and I had left New York; I told them what ho had told mo about his wife, and then I showed them tho letter she had just written me. I knew I was risking everything in making a clean breast of it, but tho fact was I was tired of living under a name that did not belong to me, and I wanted to put an end to it at all hazards." "I am glad of that!" said Pauline. "They wero rather upset by tho story, and for a while I thought the affair would go against me. But I suspect they considered mo too useful a man to lose. I was making a great deal of money for them and doing all the work, and then the woman's letter tipped the beam. They said finally that they would accept mo for what I was if I could giro them satisfactory proof that I was what I declared myself to bo. Let mo show letters or vouchers from reputablo persons in New York bearing out my account of myself and they would accept mo as a full equivalent for what I had pretended to be. I had a power of attorney that Val had given mo on the steamer, but of course I could not tell them what had led to my leaving New York. I could not ask any ono hero for a certificate of good character until my name had been cleared of tho charge against it But it wouldn't do to hesitate, 60 I said, on tho spur of tho moment, that I would go to New York, get tho evidence they required and return to them with it. So hero I am; but I overheard somo conversation coming down on tho boat between tho English agent and a New York detectivo which made it seem probable that my affairs will bo investigated whether I liko it or not, and that meanwhile tho truo story of how tho robbery was committed has not been revealed yet. How is it?" Tho answer to this question led to a long conversation, in tho course of which Percy learned aJl that had happened during his absence, including Paulino's marriage. Tho search for tho thief for whoso crime he had suffered had as yet met with no success, but it was still being carried on. After discussing the matter, it was decided that Percy's presence in the city should, for tho moment, bo kept a secret from every one, even from his mother and Judge Ketellc. He should conceal himself in lodgings in tho upper part of the town, where Pauline could visit him from time to time, and report the progress or alfairs, and learn, if possible, from Inspector Byrnes, what were tho object and result of tho English agent Clifton's mission to New York. Thcro might bo difficulties in tho way, but tho brother and sister wero young and believed that tho longest lano has a turning. It was lato when Paulino drovo up to tho door of her house, and, alighting, walked up tho steps of tho porch. Her mind was full of her brother, and sho did not notico tho tall man with tho black mustache who 6tood 011 the corner of the street tapping his l>oot with his cane. [TO ItH CONTINUKD NKXT WUKK.j Attracting Customers with Music. Tho latest fad to entice trado is to entertain would bo customers with music. Tho other afternoon while a reporter was making a few purchases at a general hardware and sporting goods storo on Vesey street, ho heard tho delightful strains of a Strauss waltz. In an alcove of tho storo a hnrpist, two violinists and a flutist wero doing their best to entertain tho purchasers. They wero good musicians, too, and their music was vastly superior to that usually furnished by street players. Tho old saying that "music hath charms to sootho tho savage breast," was hardly applicablo to this particular crowd, but certain it is that hardly a man or woman in tho store failed to show tho pleas uro ho or sho experienced whilo waiting1 for tho clerks to open and display new packages of goods. Tho women wero particularly delighted with tho music. Somo of them walked about moro gracefully than they otherwise would have dono, others still hummed tho strains as though thoroughly acquainted with tho music, whilo tho eyes of many flashed and their faces bespoke tho delight they wero experiencing. All this whilo tho proprietor moved about as though unconscious of tho pleasures ho was affording his patrons. When spoken to about tho music, ho said: "Yes, I supposo it is pretty good music, but I don't know much about it, and so I keep my mouth shut. But I'll tell you ono thing: It is a right good advertising scheme, and my business has almost quadrupled sinco I engaged tho orchestra soveral weeks ago. My idea was laughed at a littlo at tho start by my neighbors, but now they fully realizo that I am making a good thing out of it."?Now York Evening Sun. Creditable to tho Scotch. Tho momorablo City of Glasgow bank failuro, with liabilities of $30,000,000, brought ruin to many, but its ruinous effects huvo largely been overcome by tho nob!1 und brotherly action of tho Scotch peoplo. Under tho law of unlimited lia bility, the stockholders of tho bank had to make good to tho creditors their accounts. Nono except a very few could afford to pay an assessment of $3,000 on each $100 of stock. A fund of $1,935,000 was, therefore, raised, and so well ha3 it been administered that nono of tho stockholders or their families havo suffered want, while many havo been aided by loans to regain a prosperous business standing. Up to date 83 per cent, of such loans have been repaid by tho beneficiaries. There now remains of the fund some $500,000, tho bulk of which will bo dovoted to purchasing annuities for widows and other helpless dependents. It is well said that tho entire transaction forms a notable record of generosity and thrift, creditable in the highest degree to the Scotch people.?Daily Investigator. ittistfUancous Starting. HONOR YOUR OCCUPATION. PRACTICAL AMI TIMELY S U( Hi EMTIO XS TO YOItJi EA It ME Its. Essay llcari by a Member of Itlairsville Farmers' Alliance at its last Meeting. Tlio great trouble with our farmers is not so much a lack of a knowledge of the business, hut a lack of interest and close attention, in their farming operations. If we farmers would only do as well as we know how to do with the farm, the business would lioo viii'ii cii??iw1 umiitv lt*irn< and cribs would be a tiling of the past. This lack of interest and close attention is the natural result of the absence ofa liking for it, which would lighten the labor. The history of mankind, from the earliest age of the world, confirms the sad truth that men everywhere are, more or less, dissatisfied with their own individual occupations in life. The medical man prefers to he of some other profession ; the lawyer dislikes his calling, and believes he would have been a more certain success if he had adopted the ministry or some other of the various professions, followed by men for a business; and so on we might specify men engaged in any of those other life pursuits. But especially does this feature of discontent and unrest apply to the farming class, so-called. They are more universally dissatisfied with their business and its results than any other class or profession. They feel that their profession, of all professions, is so menial and degrading that they do not enter into it with that degree of interest adequate to the demands of the profession. They imagine their lot to ho cheerless, and hard conditioned and non-paying, and therefore, only enter into it with a half will, as a matter of law or necessity. If the mass of Blairsville Alliance will acknowledge the truth in this question of lack or want of interest in their calling, they will substantiate the correctness of the assertion, that they do not like their occupation; that they are dissatisfied with their lot as farmers, and hence the result is a very inefficient effort on their part to make their business a paying one. They forget and wholly ignore the Scriptural injunction, "Whatsoever thv hand finds to do. do it with all thy might." If you will notice it? and I know that you have not been indifferent to the tendency of our people?in choosing their life occupation, as well as that of their children, you have never heard a parent, guardian or any one, declare that they were anxious and were making efforts to secure the means necessary to give their sons an agricultural education ; and I never knew one, already in possession of the means, to permit his son to turn his face in that direction. They do not want them toremain 011 the farm at all, if they can possibly provide for them in other avocations. Brethren, did you ever hear of any one lamenting that they were devoid of the means of giving their sons an agricultural education? Did you ever hear of any one wishing to so train their sons' minds, in suitable schools, as to render them more skilled and efficient, and thereby more successful and more interested in agriculture as their life's adopted profession? 1 think such a strange wish, striking the tympanum of our ears here in Blairsville would alarm us. We have some endowed agricultural colleges in existence, but the students are attracted there more by the endowment than by the agricultural feature of the training of the institutions. The graduates of these colleges seek other professions than Ihriuinir :is snmcthimr more COllge niiil to their ideal ofa life occupation, and as affording more ease with dignity. lint, on the other hand, it is the burden of all men's hearts to give their sons a classical education, to tit them for all the other occupations of life, except farming. And men are prone to lament the lack of means to educate their sons to lie doctors, lawyers, ministers, Ac. And, in many instances, after parents have labored to educate young men for these honorable professions, they dishonor both themselves and their calling. They become mere drones in business and simply hang on the remnant of their parents' patrimony till it is exhausted. Then they drift with the tide, which has a downward tendency, to ruin and shame, i fence, we claim that a portion of our present lean condition as farmers, is attributable to the indifference of parents in learning their sons agriculture, and at the same time, learning them to like it as a life pursuit. We also claim that we are practically, both by precept and example, teaching the youths of our day and time to dislike agricultural pursuits. Then is it any wonder that the agricultural interest of lilairsville is on the wane, since the best talent and best energies, undeveloped in the rising generation of our country, are avoiding the farm as a bugbear? A young man of the right kind of grit desires to be a success. 11 is youthful blood arouses his ambition, and his latent energi.es, awakened by the touch of magnetism, compel him to look for that precious goal of crowned efforts. Then, under the impulse of this desideratum where does he go to win laurels? Where does he go to tight for distinction? Do you believe that he goes to the farm ? < )h, no. No success there! No fame there for him ! It isa failure. His training and his observation both teach him to turn his face from that calling if he means to he a .sw*w. It is no use to specify any proofs. We are all too ready to admit the truth of the assertion that our farms .1.. ..,.f rmi'iiril us timr. Wo know it by experience (the fool's teacher.) The financial condition of the fanning class is suHiciont evidence. We farmers are not only behind in our State, but in all the cotton States they are irretrievably ruined in their agricultural interests. They may continue their farming operations and they may appear to he prospering, but when gathering seasons arrive the crop merely goes into other cotl'ers than the farmer's pocket. We are tenants and slaves to our wily masters, all because our farmers are not self-sustaining. No corn is the main trouble. I fa farmer is out of corn he is a poor farmer. It matters not what else he may possess, he is in a very poor condition to succeed at the business. The only persons in success at the farm now are the grain producers. An abundance of this article in cribs and garners creates energy and makes everything run smoothly. Brethren, it is the one thing needful. Then, why don't we raise corn and other grain to make our farming operations self sustaining and successiu IBecause we don't try. This is the truth?we don't try. And we don't try because we do not like our business. Tliese two enarjieteristies of the man, or even of a child, always run together in enterprise? love and try. If you like your profession you will try to succeed and excel in it. Vou certainly will not dishonor.it with indolent indifference and wireless inattention. Kelnemher, there is no excellence in anything without great labor. It is the decree of fate, from which 110 genius can free you. "Labor conquers all things." It may he hard work; "but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet." "It is the full soul only that loathes the honey comb." Do you like your occupation, farmers? Then, you will devote your best energies in the right direction to make it a success, indeed. We try to raise cotton, and we do succeed, for our cotton crops now have reached the prodigious sum of seven million hales in the world, and compare this with theamount of cotton raised fifty years ago, and see if we have not succeeded in producing the tleccy staple. Now, you see that we do sue- 1 reed at what we try to do, and that is to raise all cotton and no corn. Then, 1 let lis reverse the wheel and try in the right direction. 1 Well, you say, this is true; hut we j are going to do hotter. We are going to economize. We intend to huy corn i and other necessaries cheaper. We are buying corn now cheap, on time. Cheap corn! Corn is not cheap at sixty cents per bushel, for one half this price is freight paid railroads. It has been grown or raised in Bui- ; lock's creek township at 1"> cents per bushel. And, besides, the hook of economy says that the very cheapness of ;in article abolishes the idea of economy. Men will buy more of anything if it is cheap. The cheapness of any necessary commodity of life leads to extravagance in the use of it. We have all been caught in the same trap often. Do not then, let the cheapness of an article make you believe that you are economizing. But sometimes we think we are doing something which we are not. Remember the fly on the coach wheel. Jt exclaimed, "what a dust we raise." We are now exclaiming, what a crop of corn we'll raise this year. Brethren, are we not deceiving ourselves? We cannot raise much corn, for we have not planted much of it. Imaginary prospects are deluding us. We cannot reap what we have not sown. Is there any farmer in this hall who can rise and make a true statement and report that his crop consists of two acres planted in corn to every one seeded in cotton ? If so, we will add you on as the eighth wonder of the world. If you have not done this you are a deluded creature. You are infatuated with air castles and false theories if vou expect to improve your condition without quitingyour old follies of adopting false methods. Now, if we don't quit resting our whole dependence for a support on cotton, we must bear the criticism we truly deserve. The matter wiil resolve itself into this simple, unmanly excuse: "We don't want to," as the main cause of our farmers being reduced to such unpleasant circumstances of life. The very fact we do continue in the old ruts that have brought ruin upon us, is sufficient proof that we do not desire to make a new effort in the right direction, and it is all because we don't like our occupation, as other men do their professions. And hence we dishonor it, and in return it dishonors us. A hardware merchant once told me that he began life in poor circumstances and had succeeded. 1 asked him what was the main cause of his success, lie replied: "I like my business. 1 always felt that I could wrap up in a log chain lor my man- | kct and take an anvil for my pillow." That is it. It will win every time. We know well enough how to farm if we will only apply that knowledge, in a common sense, practical way, with judgment and close attention. What would be the result if your physician would prescribe for you day after day in your sickness, if you did not apply the remedies ? < )f course you would remain sick. Just so in'our farming operations. We have a superabundance of prescription and theories, and we are still bad off because we do not put into practice what we know about it. We conduct our farms in a kind of mechanical way. We act somewhat like farmers, but we don't farm. Our hearts are not in the work. We don't like it. We feel like Paul did when he prayed to be delivered from this hotly of death. We pray to get away from the farm, and we hope to get away from it when something turns up. Hence, from a lack of interest in it, arising from a lack of proper attachment for the profession, we neglect our duty. We do not labor more than live-eighths of the time ; we waste three-eighths of our time in idleness and misdirected efforts. If we will notice, men in other professions work all the time and add on some night work to succeed. Set your hearts on making, first, an independent living 011 your farms; then after that raise cotton ; but lirst see that your living is sure. Double your area in breadstuff's anil cut down your area to one-half in cotton, not necessarily diminishing the yield of cotton, for I claim that we can produce our usual crops of cotton on one half the area. Put the same quantity of fertilizer on one-half the area of land usually planted in cotton, andyou will obtain the same number of bales with less labor, at the same cost of manuring. By this plan you will have twice the amount of time to devote to the cultivation of your double area of corn and to the savin# of your small grain crop, besides your cotton lands receiving a greater quantity of compost and guanos will continue to improve. Make it a rule to follow cotton with corn in your rotation of crops, and you will tind that you will reap a better yield of corn from lands cultivated in cotton the year previous. Then follow the corn, on the same lands, the succeeding year, with wheat or oats, to replete or rebuild the exhaustion sustained by your lands under this method, manuring each succeeding crop as it demands. Where it is properly cultivated, cotton land never fails to make a fair corn crop. This is the method of rotating in (leorgia, and we can safely take pattern from (leorgia and succeed, as she now leads the cotton States in farming. Rotate and plan with an aim and a purpose, and we will succeed yet. Honor your calling and pursue it with a will and a purpose and the dark clouds of despair that now almost envelop our business as farmers, will vanish as a mist before the rising sun. Turn not your faces to the sunset, but look to the east and catch a glimpse of the red morning of Hope Inrkoning us on to a sure haven of better results than have lately crowned our efforts. Accident dees very little toward producing anything in life, though sometimes a happy hit may lie made by a hold venture. Yet the old and common way of steady industry and application is the only safe road. It is not accident that helps men along in the world, but purpose and persistent industry from a fondness of it. Let not, then, the young man sit with folded hands, calling on old 1 lercules. Your own arm is the deini-(iod. Ifr was given you to help yourself. (Jo forth, then, into your work, trustful ami fearless. Kxalt your adopted calling or profession. Look on labor as honorable and dignify the task before you, whether it be in the study, ottice, counting-room, work-shop, or in the furrowed Held. There is an equality in all. And the resolute will and persevering mind may ennoble either. "Honor and shame from no oondition rise; Act well your part, thoro all the honor lies." "Do your best always" is the adage of an excellent divine. Put your life into task, and the doing of it will have a powerful moral influence upon others. Whether you preach, study, sell goods or till the soil, do your best. By the doing of the thing is revealed the character of the true man; his occupation is dignified and his life-work made a success. t?" There is an "aristocracy" of intellect as well as of birth or of money, and highly cultivated people are apt to he as disdainful of every-day thinkers as rich people are of the poor. Yet lives are made noble, and the world is made happier, very often, by simplethinkers, to whom the refinements of philosophy are unkpown parts. For the Yorkvlllo Enquirer. REMINISCENCES OF WESTERN' YORK. On Turkey crock, not many miles from Sharon church, many years ago, lived Mr. William Itainey. In those days it was no uncommon thing1 for a man to be a member of, or even an oflicer in, the church and a maker and vender of drinks at the same time ; even getting a little tight was no great crime. About the close of the last century we find Mr. Rainey occupying this position. He was well thought of by his neighbors. It follows, as a matter of course, that a man in this position, and especially a son of the Emerald isle, wduld be likely to take a "wee hit" too much of the ardent. In the same neighborhood were some dubious characters in the persons of some of the McClains. While they were Whigs oAiinil tlimr \enwi mtf illlll mJUllll *711 puillUT)} lilt J IIWV such men in all respects as to please "Hilly" Itainey. George Ross was Billy's right hand man. From the names given, the reader is ready to acknowledge that they were Irish. On one occasion a friend of theirs died in the McConnellsville or Bethesda neighborhood, and all the parties attended the funeral. There were five of the McC'Iains, of whom John was the leader. As before stated, Billy Rainey was a distiller. He had three grades of liquor, which he called by the respective names of "Ranta-tanta," "Jibble Joro" and "Splish Splash," the latter of which was but little if any better than pot ale. Ranta-tanta was all right. He said: "In a hot day it will cool ye, and a cool day it will bet ye." At the funeral 'illy gave George Ross the wink to go by home with him and try some of "Ranta-tanta." The McC'Iains, who. our authority says, had lost everything they had except their thirst for liquor, concluded to follow Billy and George up and come in about the time to get a taste of "Ranta-tanta." They happened to be just a few minutes too early. Billy had drawn his decanter and Jane, his wife, had got the sugar ready for George and Billy to regale themselves. when in nonned the McC'Iains. So Billy was equal to the emergency. George, it must 1k? understood, had nothing against the McClains. So Billy, in order to bluff them handsomely, began walking about the room with his hands l)ehind his back, and with all the solemnity he could command, said : "It is a very solemn thing we have just been called upon to do?bury our friend; but we are reminded that death is the common lot of all men, and under such circumstances we should l>e prepared." After talking in this strain for some time he called Jane, his wife, to "bring out the books and let's have prayer." This unexpected turn of affairs was equal to a stroke of paralysis. Jane understood the game and sprang for the Bible and Psalm book with such alacrity as to convince their visitors that they were in the wrong pew that time. Had they been shot aut of a cannon, the McClains would not have vacated the premises any faster. As soon as they were out of sight and hearing, Hilly turned to George and (though a member of the church) with language more forcible than elegant, told him he knew how to get rid of them fellows. John McClain, the oldest of the quintet just named, was a soldier in the Revolutionary war. For daring and pluck he had but few equals. On mm iwvHuinn lioeunonn aenmuanvof British cavalry not far from tfie spot where Lucas's mill, on Turkey creek, now stands. They had stopped at a house and were getting some brandy. Around the house was a "staked and ridered" fence; also the lane leading to the house was made of the same style of fencing. The lady of the house saw him and tried to beckon to him not to come there. The British raiders had rode into the yard and some of their horses were even hitched to the door latch. John took in thesituation and resolved to mount himself at their expense. So he crept from one corner of the fence to the other along the lane as it approached the house and into the yard among the horses, until he got under, or so near the house, as to avoid detection. With a stick he unloosed the rein of the bridle from the door latch and threw it over the horse's head, and with the agility of a well trained cavalier, mounted the animal l>efore he was discovered. Turning the head of the gallant charger toward the high fence, he gave the word and was landed safely on the other side, still retaining his seat in the saddle. The British soldiers knew it was folly to undertake to capture him on that animal ; so they turned a volley loose upon him as he rode off in a defiant manner to join his comrades and relate his experience with the enemies of his country. j. l. s. THE BIGGEST M'GGET. How gold came to be distributed over the surface of the earth is one of the unsolved problems of modern science. It has been found on the surface in nearly all portions of the globe. In the time of Julius Ciesar the savage inhabitants of the British Isles wore golden ornaments made of the precious metal found near the riverbeds. Columbus, it will be remembered, discovered great quantities of gold on the West Indian islands from sources which have long been exhausted. The day of placer digging on the Pacific coast is also over. Probably the only gold fields left to-day are in Africa. Undoubtedly this surface gold was washed out of the rocks from the mountainous country in which the streams took their rise. A record has been kept of the large masses of gold called "nuggets" found in the various streams in Cali fornia. In 18<>o a nugget weigning 1,51X5 ounces was taken from tlie Monumental Mine, Sierra Buttes, the value of which was estimated at from ?21,000 to ?.'10,000. Another great nugget, worth ?22,(MK), was taken from the Rainbow Mine, Chipp's Flats, in 1881 ; in 1858 a nugget was found in French Ravine, weighing ">82 ounces, worth ?lo,ooo. In the same ravine, in 1X51, a nugget of l.'Kl ounces was found, worth ?s,ooo. Many other nuggets have been found from time to time worth from one to tive thousand dollars. Undoubtedly these great blocks of gold were washed down from formations similar to the famous Comstock, which, it may be interesting to note, has now yielded over ?:!()(>,<H>0,<H)0 in gold and silver. There are, no doubt, in the vast mineral regions of the West hundreds yet to be discovered. While there is little more surface gold, the sources from which it came in the Sierra and Rocky mountains are as yet untouched. The United States has the greatest bullion mines in the world so far as known ; indeed, we produce to-day more than half tin1 precious metal found on the face of the globe. A nci kxt Won dkks.?Nineveh was fourteen miles long, eight miles iwide, and forty-six miles round, with a wall one hundred feet high, and thick enough for three chariots abreast. Babylon was fifty miles within the walls, which were seventy-live feet thick, and one hundred feet high, with one hundred brazen gates. The Temple of Diana, at Hphesus, was four hundred and twenty feet to the support of the roof. It was one hundred years in building. The largest of the pyramids is four hundred and eighty-one feet in height, and eight hundred and fifty-three feet on the sides. The base covers eleven acres. ftaT In all Christian countries men are trained to a tender care of wives, mothers and sisters; and a chivalrous impulse to protect and provide for helpless womanhood is often strongei^^|^| men than in most women.