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_ _ - - .""*; lewis m. grisx, Proprietor. | ^ii Jndtptndcnt ^amita HJcurcpaptr: ^oi; tin; $romofion of flti; $olttiqat, jsoqial, ligijictiltuKil and (ffommcwial Jnierqsts of thq #outh. j TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADYANCE. "VOL. 38. YOEKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 3, 1892. 3SJ~Q. 31. - 1 *' THESCftRi BY NATHANIEL I CHAPTER XVL THE NEW ENGLAND HOLIDAY. Betimes in the morning of the day on which the new governor was to receive his office at the hands of the people, Hester Prynne and little Pearl came into the market place. It was already thronged with the craftsmen and other plebeian inhabitants of the town in considerable numbers, among whom, likewise, were many rough figures, whose attire of deerskins marked them as be longing to some of the forest settlements ! which surrounded the little metropolis of the colony. . j. On this public holiday, as on all other occasions for seren years past, Hester was' clad in a garment of coarse gray cloth. Not more by its -hue than by soaife ind&Wibable peculiarity in its fa*hkm, it had the effect of making her 1 fade personally out of sight and outline, while again the scarlet letter brought her back from this twilight indistinctness and revealed her under the moral aspect of its own illumination. Her . face, so long familiar to the townspeople, showed the marble quietude which they were accnstomed to behold there. | It was. like a mask, or rather like the frozen calmness of a dead woman's features, owing this dreary resemblance to the fact that Hester was actually dead in respect to any claim of sympathy and had departed opt of the world with which she still seemed to mingle. ? * . I Pearl was decked out with airy gayety. It would have been impossible to guess that this bright and sunny apparition I owed its existence to the shape of gloomy j gray; or that a fancy, at ouce so gor- : geous and so delicate as must have been requisite to contrive the chOd's apparel: was the same that had achieved a task perhaps more difficult in imparting so distinct a peculiarity to Hester's simple robe. The dress, so proper was it to little Pearl, seemed an effluence, or in- j evitable development and outward manJ I_XJ M \ _1 I UeBRKIUU Ut ucr UHUW/Wi| uv uiviv w be separated from her than the many hoed brilliancy from a butterfly's wing, or the painted glory from the leaf of a : bright flower. As with these, so with the child; her garb was all of one idea j with her nature. On this eventful day, ! moreover, thero was a certain singular i inquietude and excitement in her mood, resembling nothing somueh as the shim-, mer of a diamond, that sparkles and flashes with the varied throbbings of the breast on which it is displayed. Children have always a sympathy in the agitations of those connected with them; always, especially a sense of any trouble or impending revolution of whatever kind in domestic circumstances, | and therefore Pearl, who was the gem on her mother's unquiet bosom, betrayed | by the very dance of her spirits the emotions which none could detect in the u marble passiveness of Hester's brow. This, effervescence made her flit with a birdlike movement, rather than walk by her mother's side. She broke continually into shouts of a wild, inarticulate and sometimes piercing music. ^1* a tMaaVoi *?1 n aa oVtn vr uou urojr ica^uuu Uiu ukmaov ouv became still mare restless on perceiving the stir and bustle that enlivened the spot, for it was usually more like the ' broad and lonesome green before a village meeting house than the center of a town's business. . "Why, what is this, mother?" cried she. "Wherefore have all the people left their work today? Is it a play day for the whole world? See, there is the blacksmith! He has washed his sooty face and pat on his Sabbath day clothes, and looks as if he would gladly be merry if any kind body would only teach him how! And there is Master Bracket*, the old jailer, nodding and smiling at me. Why does he do jo, mother?" "He remembers thee a little babe, my j child," answered Hester. "He should not nod and smile at me ; for all that?the Llack, grim, ngly eyed old man!" said PearL "He may nod at thee, if he will; for thou art clad in gray and wearest the scarlet letter. Bat see, mother, how many faces of strange people, and Indians among them, and sailors! What have they all come to do here in the market place?" "They wait to soothe procession pass," said lira! or. "For the governor and the magistia.co arc to go by and the ministers and all the great people and good people, with the musio and the soldiers marching before them." "?-J !?1 1-1.1 L._?! ,1 'aim win tuo uumoicr uc i iiaw qojlcu ' Pearl.. "And will he hold cat both his hands to me, as when thou ledst me to him frOm the brookside?" "He will be there, child," answered her mother. "Bat he will not greet thee today; nor must'thou greet him." "What a strange, sad man is her said the child, as if speaking partly to herself. "In the dark night time he calls ns to him, and holds thy hand and mine, as when we stood with him on the-scaffold yonder. 'And in thedeen forest, where only the old trees can hear, and the strip of sky see it, he talks with thee, sitting on a heap of moesl And ne kisses my forehead, too, so that the little brook would hardly wash it off! But here, in the sonny day,, and among all the people, he knows us not; nor most weJcaow him! A strange, sad man is he, with his hand always over his heart!" "Be quiet, Pearl! Thou understandest not these things," said her mother. "Think not now of the minister, but look about thee and see how cheery is everybody's face today. The childien have come from their schools, and the grown people from their workshops and their fields on purpose to be happy, for today a new man is beginning to rule over them, and so?as has been the custom of mankind ever since a nation was first gathered?they make merry and rejoice, as if a good and golden year were at length to pass over the poor old world r The picture of human life in the mar-! ket place, though its general tint was the sad gray, brown or black of the English ?micrpttnfjj nraa vpfc pnlivenftd hv Boma diversity of hae. A party of In- j diana?in their savage finery of carious- j ly embroidered deerskin robes, wampum belts, red and yellow ocber and feathers, and armed with the bow and arrow and stone beaded spear ? stood apart with countenances of inflexible gravity beyond what even the Puritan aspect coold attain. Nor, wild as were these painted barbarians, were they the wildest feature of the scene. This distinction could more justly be claimed by some mariners?a part of the crew of the vessel from the Spanish Main?who had come ashore to see the hamors of election day. They were rough looking desperadoes, with sun blackened faces and an immensity of beard; their wide, short trousers were confined about the waist by belts, often clasped with a rough plate of gold, and sustaining always a 1 long knife, and in some instances a' sword. From beneath their broad brimmed hat3 of palm leaf gleamed eyes which, even in good nature and merriment, had a kind of animal ferocity. They transgressed without fear or scruple the rules of behavior that were binding on all others; smoking tobacco under the bea4. die's very nose, although each whiff would have cost a townsman a shil- ! ling; and quaffing at their pleasure drafts of wine or aqua vitas from pocket flasks, which they freely tendered to the gaping crowd around them. It remarkably characterized the incomplete morality of the age, rigid as we call it, , that a license was allowed the seafaring ' , HAWTHORNE. class, not merely for their freaks on shore, but for far more desperate deeds on their proper element. * * Thus the Puritan elders in their black cloaks, starched bands and steeple crowned hats smiled not unbenignantly at the clamor and rude deportment of these jolly seafaring men; and it excited neither surprise nor animadversion when so reputable a citizen as old Roger Chillingworth, the physician, was seen to enter the market place in close and familiar talk with the commander of the questionable vessel. The latter was by far the most showy and gallant figure, so far as apparel went, anywhere to be Been among the multitude. He wore a profusion of ribbons on his garment and gold lace on his hat, which was also encircled by a gold chain and surmounted with a feather. There was a sword at his side and a sword cut on his forehead, which, by the arrangement of his hair, he seemed anxious rather to display than hide. A landsman could hardly have worn this garb and shown this face, and worn and shown them both with onn^ ? oii? iTnrlfircrmnfT OUVU U ^OMICMU UU VTAWUVUV w.UMW. stern question before a magistrate and probably incurring fine or imprisonment, or perhaps an exhibition in the stocks. As regarded the shipmaster," however, all was looked upon as pertaining to the character, as to a fish his glistening scales. After parting from the physician, the commander of the Bristol ship strolled idly through the market place, until happening to approach the spot where Hester Prynne was standing, he appeared to recognize and did not hesitate to address her. As was usually the case wherever Hester stood, a small vacant area?a sort of magic circle?had formed itself about her, into which, though the people were elbowing one another at a little distance, none ventured or felt disposed to intrude. It was a forcible type of the moral solitude in which the scarlet letter enveloped its fated wearer: partly by her own reserve and partly by the instinctive, though no longer eo unkindly, withdrawal of her fellow creatures. Now, if never before, it answered a good purpose by enabling Hester and the seaman to speak together without risk of being overheard, and so changed was Hester Prynne's repute before the public that the matron in town most eminent for rigid morality could not have held such intercourse with less re suit of scandal than herself. "So, mistress," said the mariner, "I must bid the steward make ready one more berth than you bargained fori No fear of scurvy or ship fever this voyage: What with the ship's surgeon and thi? other doctor, our only danger will be I rum UTUg ur pin; 111 VI o vjr iv&cu, a there is a lot of apothecary's stuff aboard, which I traded for with a Spanish ves sel." "What mean you?" inquired Hester startled more than she permitted to ap pear. "Have you another passenger?" "Why, know you not," cried the shipmaster, "that this physician here?Chillingworth he calls himself?is minded to try my cabin fare with yon? Aye, aye,, you must have known it, for he tells me he is of your party, and a close friend to the gentleman you spoke of?he that is in peril from these sour old Puritan rulers!" "They know each other well indeed," replied Hester with a mien of calmness, though in the utmost consternation. "They have long dwelt together." Nothing further passed between the mariner and Hester Prynne. But at that instant she beheld old Roger Chillingworth himself standing in the remotest corner of the market place and smiling on her?a smile which across the wide and bustling square, and through all the talk ana laughter and various thoughts, moods and interest of the crowd, conveyed secret and fearful meaning. * CHAPTER XVLL THE PROCESSION. Before Hester Prynne could call together her thoughts and consider whtit was practicable to be done in this new and startling aspect of affairs, the sound of military music was heard approaching along a contiguous street It denoted the advance of the procession of magistrates and citizens on its way toward the meeting house, where, in compliance with a custom thus early established and ever since observed, the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale was to deliver an election sermon. Soon the head of the procession showed itself, with a slow and stately march, turning a corner and making its way across the market place. First came the music. It comprised, a variety of instruments, perhaps imperfectly adapted to one another, and played with no great skill, but. yet attaining the great object for which the harmony pf drum and clarion addresses itself to the multitude?that of imparting a higher and more hetoic air to the scene of life that pastes before the eye. Little Pearl at first clapped her hands, but then lost for an instant the restless AT- -J. T__ J 1 ?A. V agUailUIl lUttb UttU ?.opi/ net iu a tuutiir ual effervescence throughout the moming. She 'gazed silently and seemed to be borne upward, like a floating sea bird, on the long heaves and swells of souir.1. But she was brought back to her former mood by the shimmer of the sunshine on the weapons and bright armor of the military company which followed after the music and formed the honorary escort of the procession. This body of soldiery, which still sustains a corporate existence and marches down from past ages with an ancient and honorable fame, was composed of no mercenary materials. Its ranks were filled with gentlemen who felt the stirrings of martial impulse and sought to establish a kind of college of arms, where, as in an association of Knights Templar, they might learn the science, and, so far as peaceful exercise would teach them, the practices of war. The high estimation then placed upon the military character might be seen in the lofty port of each individual member of the company.' Some of them, indeed, by their services in the low coun* * At /J-IJ- - M TTt tries ana on otner iieiub ui niuru^jeaii warfare, had fairly won their title to assume the name and pomp of soldiership. The entire array, moreover, clad in buryished steel and with plumage nodding over their bright morions, had a brilliancy of effect which no modern display can aspire to equaL And yet the men of civil eminence, who came immediately behind the military escort, were better worth a thoughtful observer's eye. Even in outward demeanor they showed a stamp of majesty that made the warrior's haughty stride look vulgar, if not absurd. # * So far as a demeanor of natural authority was concerned, the mother coun-. try need not have been ashamed to see these foremost men of an actual democracy adopted into the house of peers or made the privy council of the sovereign. Next in order to the magistrates came the yootg and eminently distinguished divine, from whose lips the religious discourse of the anniversary was expected. His was the profession at that era in which intellectual ability displayed itself far more than in political life; for, leaving a higher motive out of the question, it offered inducements powerful enough in the almost worshiping respect of the community to win the most aspiring ambition into its service. Even political power, as in the case of Increase Mather, was within the graip of a successful priest. It was the observation of those who beheld him now that never, since Mr. Dimmesdale first set his foot on the New j England shore, had he exhibited socli ' energy as was seen in the gait and air : with which he kept his pace in the procession. There was no feebleness of step as at other times; his frame was not bent, nor did his hand rest ominously upon his heart. * * ? Hester Prynne, gazing steadfastly at i 1 the clergyman, felt a dreary influence come over her, but wherefore or whence i ehe knew not, unless that he seemed so remote froir her own sphere and utterly beyond her reach. One glance of recog! nition, she had imagined, must needs pass between them. She thought of the , | dim forest, with its little dell of solitude and love and anguish, and the tnossy tree trunk, where, sitting hand in hand, they had mingled their sad and passiouate talk with the melancholy murmur | of the brook. How deeply had they known each other then! And was this i the man? She hardly knew him now! He, moving proudly past, enveloped, as it were, in the rich music, with the pro- ; ; cession of majestic and venerable fa' tViora* hp fin unattainable in his worldlv | position, and still more so in that far . vista of his unsympathizing thoughts, through which she now beheld him! Her Bgirit sankjpitb the ide%_ that all must nave been a* delusion, and that, vividly as she had dreamed it, there 1 could be no real bond betwixt the clergyman and herself. And thus much of woman was there in Hester that she ! could scarcely forgive him?least of all | | now, when the heavy footstep of their approaching fate might be heard, nearer, nearer, nearer?for being able so i i completely to withdraw himself from , their mutual world, while Bhe groped darkly and stretched forth her cold i , hands and found him not Pearl either saw and responded to her mother's feelings, or herself felt the reI moteness and intangibility that had fallen around the minister. While the pro- j cession passed the child was uneasy, fluttering up and down like a bird on the point of taking flight. When the whole had gone by she looked up into Hester's face. "Mother," said she, "was that the same | minister that kissed me by the brook?" "Hold thy peace, dear little Pearl!" ; whispered her mother. "We must not always talk in the market place of what happens to us in the forest." "I could not be sure that it was he; so ; ! strange he looked," continued the child, j ! "Else I would have run to him and bid him kiss me now, before all the people; j even as he did yonder among the dark ; old trees. What would the minister J have said, mother? Would he have i clapped his hand over his heart and l scowled on me and bid me be gone?" "What should he say, Pearl?" answered Hester, "save that it was no time to kiss, and that kisses are not to be given in the market place? Well for thee, foolish child, that thou didst not speak to him!" * By this time the preliminary prayer ' had been offered in the meeting house, ! and the accents of the Reverend Mr. ! r Dimmesdale were heard commencing ! 1 his discourse. An irresistible feeling ! kept Hester near the spot As the sa- ( ! cred edifice was too much thronged to ! j admit another auditor, she took up her j j position close beside the scaffold of the j pillory. It was in sufficient proximity to bring the whole sermon to her ears ' j in the shape of an indistinct but varied | I murmur and flow of the minister's very ' peculiar voice. This vocal organ was in itself a rich endowment, insomuch that a listener, comprehending nothing of the language in which the preacher spoke, might still have been swayed to and fro by the mere tone and cadence. Like all other music, it breathed passion and pathos and emotions high or tender in a tongue native to the human heart wherever educated. Muffled as the sound was by its passage through the church walls, Hester Prynne listened with such intentness, and sympathized so intimately, that the sermon had throughout a meaning for her entirely apart from its indistinguishable words. These, perhaps, if more distinctly heard, might have been only a grosser medium and have clogged the i spiritual sense. Now she caught the low undertone, as of the wind sinking : down to repose itself; then ascended ! with it, as it rose through progressive ! gradations of sweetness and power, un- I til its volume seemed to envelop her I wun an atmoepnere or awe ana solemn grandeur. And yet, majestic as the j voice sometimes became, there was for- j ever in it an essential character of plain- 1 tiveness. A loud or low expression of anguish? i the whisper or the shriek, as it might be conceived, of suffering humanity, that touched a sensibility in every bosom! At times this deep strain of pathos was all 1 that could be heard, and scarcely heard, j sighing amid a desolate silence. But ; even when the minister's voice grew high and commanding, when it gushed irrepressibly upward, when it assumed i its utmost, breadth and power, so overj filling the church as to burst its way | i through the solid walls and diffuse itI self in the open air?still, if the auditor listened intently and for the purpose, he could detect the same cry of pain. , What was it? The complaint of a human | heart, sorrow laden, perchance guilty, j j telling its secret, whether of guilt or j sorrow, to the great heart of mankind, | beseeching its sympathy or forgiveness, , at every moment, in each accent and | ! never in vain! It was this profound and [ continual undertone that gave,the clergyman his most appropriate power. During all this time Hester stood, 6tatuelike, at the foot of the scaffold. If 1 the minister's voice had not kept her there, there would nevertheless have been an inevitable magnetism in that spot, whence she dated the first hour of her life of ignominy. There was a sense within her?too ill defined to be made a thought, but weighing heavily on her ! mind?that her whole orb of life, both ' before and after, was connected with this spot, as with the'one point that gaye ! it unity. I Little Pearl, meanwhile, had quitted : her mother's side, and was playing at j her own will about the market place. | She made the somber crowd cheerful by j her erratic and glistening ray; even as a j bird of bright plumage illuminates a j j whole tree of dusky foliage by darting ; j to and fro, half seen and half concealed j ' amid the twilight of the clustering | leaves. She had an undulating, but of' tentimes a sharp and irregular movement. It indicated the restless vivacity of her spirit, which today was doubly 1 indefatigable in its ttptoe dance, because it was played upon and vibrated with her mAfliQv'ti /lic/ininfiulo UIVVUV4 O uiu^uav VUV4VI ! Whenever Pearl saw anything to exi cite her ever active and wandering curi- | osity, she flew thitherward and, as we i might say, seized ui>on that man or j 1 thing as her own property, so far as she I desired it; but without yielding the ini! nutest degree of control over her motions ' j in requital. The Puritans looked on, and, if they smiled, were none the less ! inclined to pronounce the child a demon 1 offspring, from the indescribable chann of beauty and eccentricity that shone through her little figure and sparkled j with its activity. She ran and looked 1 the wild Indian in the face; and he grew , i conscious of a nature wilder than his own. Thence with native audacity, but j still with a reserve as characteristic, she i flew into the midst of a group of mariners?the swarthy checked wild men of the ocean, as the Indians were of the land; and they gazed wonderiugly and admiringly at Pearl, as if a flake of the sea foam had taken the shape of a little maid, and were gifted with a soul of the : sea fire that flashes l>eneath the prow in | the night time. One of these seafaring men?the shi{>uiaster, indeed, who had spoken to Hester Prynne?was so smitten with Pearl's aspect that he attempted to lay liunds i upon her, with purpose to snatch a kiss. ; Finding it as impossible to touch her as j to catch a humming bird in the air, he j took from his hat the gold chain that j was twisted about it and threw it to the child. Pearl immediately twined it | around her neck and waist with such happy skill that once seen there it be- ( came a part of her, and it was difficult to imagine her without it. "Thy mother is yonder woman with the scarlet letter," said, the seaman. ! "Wilt thou carry her a message from j me?" "If the message pleaws me I will," J answered Pearl. "Then tell her," rejoined he, "that 1 spake again with the black visaged, hump shouldered old doctor, and he engages to bring his friend, the gentleman she wots of, aboard with him. So let thy mother take no thought save for herself and thee. Wilt thou tell her this, thou witch baby?" "Mistress Hibbins says my father is , the Prince of the Air!" cried Pearl, with a naughty smile. "If thou callest me j that ill name I shall tell him of thee, and he will chase thy ship with a tempest!" Pursuing a zigzag course ac ross the market place the child returned to her j mother and communicated what the . mariner had said. Hester's strong, ' calm, steadfastly enduring spirit almost sank at last on beholding tfcia dark and. | grim countenance of an inevitable doom, j urVnWi?nt the moment when a nassacre seemed to open for the minister and her- ; self out of their labyrinth of misery? showed itself with an unrelenting smile right in the midst of their path. With her mind harassed by the terrible perplexity in which the shipmaster's intelligence involved her, she was also subjected to another trial. There were many people present, from the : country round about, who had often heard of the scarlet letter, and to whom it had been made terrific by a hundred false or exaggerated rumors, but who had never beheld it with their own bodily eyes. These, after exhausting other modes of amusement, now thronged about Hester Prynne with rude and boorish intrusiveness. Un- j scrupulous as it was, however, it could ! not bring them nearer than a circuit of j several yards. At that distance they j accordingly stood, fixed there by the , centrifugal force of the repugnance ! which the mystic symbol inspired. The whole gang of sailors, likewise, observing the press of spectators and learning the purport of the scarlet letter, came and thrust their sunburned and desperado looking faces into the ring. Even the Indians were.affected by a [ sort of cold shadow of the white man's | curiosity, and gliding through the crowd fastened their snakelike black eyes on i Hester's bosom, conceiving, perhaps, | that the wearer of this brilliantly em- | broidered badge must needs be a personage of high dignity among Jier people. | Lastly the inhabitants of the town (their i own interest in this worn out subject languidly reviving itself by sympathy with what they saw others feel) lounged idly to the same quarter and tormente d Hester Prynne, perhaps more than all the rest, with their cool, well acquainted gaze at her familiar shame. Hester saw and recognized the self same faces of that group of matrons who had awaited her forthcoming from the prison door seven years ago, all save one?the youngest and only compassionate among them ?whose burial robe she had since made. At the final hour, when she was so soon " 1 11 L..J to mng aside me Darning letter, it mm strangely become the center of more remark and excitement, and was thus made to sear her breast more painfully than at any time since the first day she put it on. While Hester stood in that triage circle of ignominy, where the cunniag cruelty of her sentence seemed to have fixed her forever, the admirable preact er was looking down from the sacred pillpit upon an audience whose very inmost spirits had yielded to his control. The sainted minister in the church! The woman of the scarlet letter in the market place! What imagination would have been irreverent enough to surmise tliat the same scorching stigma was on them both! ' CHAPTER XVHI. THE REVELATION OF THE SCARLET LETT SR. The eloquent voice on which the so ills of the listening audience had been bonie aloft as on the swelling waves of "he sea at length came to a pause. There was a momentary silence, profound as what should follow the utterance of oracles. Then ensued a murmur and half hushed tumult, as if the auditors, released from the high spell that had transported them into the region of another's mind, were returning into themselves with all their awo and wonder ?4-S11 liAfimf on flinm Tn a mnmonf. mnro I OUll UUCk T J KJkk HUVUii AUU <uvm?WM? i the crowd began to gush forth from the doors of the church. Now that there I was an end they needed other breath, more fit to support the gross and earthly life into which they relapsed than that atmosphere which the preacher had converted into words of flame and had bur- j dened with the rich fragrance of his i thought. In the open air their rapture broke into speech. The street and the market place absolutely babbled from side to side with applauses of the minister. His hearers could not rest until they had told one another of what each knew better than he could tell or hear. According to their united testimony, never had man : Bpoken in so wise, so high and so holy a spirit as he that spake this day, nor had j inspiration ever breathed through mor- j tal lips more evidently than it did j through his. Its influence could be seen, ! as it were, descending upon him and I possessing him and continually lifting him out of the written discourse that lay before him, and filling him with ideas that must have been as marvelous to himself as to his audience. His subject, it appeared, had been the relation between the Deity and the communities of mankind, with a special reference to the New England which they were here planting in the wilderness. And as he drew toward the close a spirit as of prophecy had come upon him, constraining him to its purpose as mightily as the old prophets of Israel were constrained; only with this difference, that whereas the Jewish seers had denounced judg- j ments and ruin on their country, it was his mission to foretell a high and glori- i ous destiny for the newly gathered people of the Lord. But throughout it all and through the whole discourse there had been a certain deep, sad undertone of pathos, which could not be interpreted otherwise than as the natural regret of one soon to pass away. Yes, their minister whom they so loved?and who so loved them all that ho could not depart heavenward without a sigh?had the foreboding of | untimely death upon him and would cfvin Ipuva them in their tears! This idea of his transitory stay on eartli gave tho last emphasis to the effect which the preacher had produced; it was as if an angel in his passage to the skies had 6haken his bright wings over the people for an instant?at once a shadow and a splendor?and had shed down a shower of golden truths upon them. Thus there had come to the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale?as to most men in their various spheres, though seldom recognized until they see it far behind them?an epoch of life more brilliant and full of triumph than any previous one or than any which could hereafter be. He stood at this moment on tho very proudest eminence of superiority to which the gifts of intellect, rich lore, prevailing eloquence and a reputation of whitest sauctity could exalt a clergyman in New England's earliest days, when tho professional character was of itself a lofty jjedestal. Such was tho position which the minister occupied as he bowed his head forward on tho cushions of the pulpit at tho close of his election sermon. Meanwhile Hester Prynne was standing beside the scaffold of the pillory, with tho scarlet letter still burning on her breast. Now was heard again tho clangor of tho music, and tho measured tramp of the military escort issuing from tho church door. The procession was to be marshaled thence to the town hall, where a solemn banquet would complete the ceremonies of the day. Once more, therefore, the train of venerable and majestic fathers was seen moving through a broad pathway of the people, who drew hack reverently, on either side, as the governor and magistrates, the old and wise men; the holy ministers, and all that were eminent and renowned, advanced into the midst of them. When they were fairly in the market place their presence was greeted by a shout. This?though doubtless it might acquire additional force and volume from the childlike loyalty which the age awarded to its rulers?was felt to be an irrepressible outburst of enthusiasm kindled in the auditors by that high strain of eloquence which was ye t reverberating in their ears. Each felt the impulse in himself and in the same breath caught it from his neighbor. Within the church it had hardly been kept down; beneath the sky it pealed upward to the zenith. IThere were human beings enough and enough of highly wrought and symphoaious feeling to produce that popreimpressive sound ihan the organ-tones ^5 the blast, or the thunder, or the roar of the seaeven that mighty swell of many voices blended into one great voice by the universal impulse which makes likewifie one vast heart; out of the many. Never from the soil of New England had gone up such a shout! Never on New England soil had stood the man so honored by his mortal brethren as the preacher! How faxed it with him then? Were there not the brilliant particles of n halo in the air about his head? So etherealized by spirit as he was, and so a]>otheosized by worshiping admirers, d:id his footsteps in the procession really tread upon the dust of earth?' As the ranks of military men and eivil fathers moved onward, all eyes were turned toward the point where the minister was seen to approach among them. The shout died into a mtrmur as one portion of the crowd aftjr another obtained a glimpse of him. How feeble and pale he looked amid nil his triumph! The energy?or say, rather, the inspiration which had held him up until he. should have delivered the * acred message that brought its own strength along with it from heaven?was withdrawn, now that it had so faithfully performed its office. The glow, which they had just before beheld burn: Jig on his cheek, was extinguished like a flame that sinks down hopelessly amor g the late-decaying embers. It seemed hardly the face of a man alive, with such a deathlike hue; it was hardly a man with life in him that tottered on his path so nervelessly, yet tottered, and did not fall! One of his clerical brethren?it wps the venerable John Wilson?observing the state in which Mr. Dimmesdale was left by the retiring wave of intellect and sensibility, stepped forward hastily to offer his support. The minister tremulously but decidedly repelled the old man's arm. He still walked onward, if that movement could be so des:ribed, which rather resembled the wa vering effort of an infant with its mother's arms in view ontstretched to tem pt him forward. And now, almost imperceptible as were the latter steps of hi3 progress, he had come opposite the well remembered and weather darkened scaffold, where long since, with all that dreary lapse of time between, Hester Prynne had encountered the world's ignominous stare. There stood Hester holding little Pearl by the hand I And there was the scarlet letter on her breastl The minister here made (, pause, although the music still played the stately and rejoicing march to which the procession moved. It summoned him onward?onward to the festival? but here he made a pause. Bellingham for the last few moments had kept an anxious eye upon him. He now left his own place in the pn (cession and advanced to give assistance, ;iudging from Mr. Dimmesdale's aspect, that he muBt otherwise inevitably fall. But there was something in the letter's expression that warned back the magistrate, although a man not readily obeying the vague intimations that pass from one spirit to another. The crowd, meanwhile, looked on with awe and wonder. This earthly faintness was, in their view, only another phase of the minister's celestial strength, nor would it have seemed a miracle too high to be wrought for one so holy, had he ascended before their eyes, waxing dimmer and brighter, and fading at last into the light of heaven. He turned toward the scaffold and stretched forth his arms. "He3ter," said he, "come hither! Come, my little Pearl!" It was a ghastly look with which he regarded them, but there was something at once tender and strangely triumphant in it. The child, with the birdlike motion which was one of her characteristics, i flew to him and clasped her arms about : his knees. Hester Prynne?slowly, as if , impelled by inevitable fate and against j her strongest will?likewise drew near. ' but paused before 3he reached him. At j this instant old .Roger Chillingworth < thrust himself through the crowd?or, | I perhaps, so dark, disturbed and evil was , his look, he rose up out of some nether | region?to snatch back his victim from what he sought to do? Be that as it > might, the old man rushed forward and ; caught the minister by the arm. "Madman, hold! what is your pur- \ pose?" whispered he. "Wave back that i woman! Cast off this child! All shall I be well! Do not blacken your fame and ' perish in dishonor! I can yet savo you! Would you bring infamy on your sacred j profession?" "Ha, tempter! Methinks thou art too j late!" answered the minister, encoun- i tering his eye fearfully but firmly, i "Thy power is not what it was. With j God's help I shall escape thee now." He again extended his hand to the ; woman of the scarlet letter. "Hester Prynne!" cried he, with a i piercing earnestness, "in the name of ; him so terrible and so merciful, who gives me grace at this last moment to I do what?for my own heavy sin anil miserable agony?I withheld myself ! from doing seven years ago, come | hither how and twine thy strength i about me! Thy strength, Hester, but j let it be guided by the will which God ; Viiith granted me! This wretched and ' wronged old man is opposing it with all J his might?with all his own might and : the fiend's. Come, Hester, come! Support me up yonder scaffold!" The crowd was in a tumult The men j of rank and dignity who 6tood more ira- j mediately around the clergyman were | I so taken by surprise and 60 perplexed as ; j to the purport of what they saw, unuble j to receive the explanation which most j j readily presented itself or to imagine j | any other, that they remained silent und j inactive spectators of the judgment ! ' which Providence seemed about to work. ! They beheld the minister, leaning on ; Hester's shoulder and supported by her ! arm around him, approach the scaffold 1 i and ascend its steps, while still the little hand of the sin born child was clasped j | in his. Old Roger Chillingworth fol- . i lowed as one intimately connected with [ the drama of guilt and sorrow in which they had all been actors, and well en- ! titled, therefore, to be present at its closing scene, j "Hadst thou sought the whole earth j over," said he, looking darkly at the clergyman, "there was 110 0110 place so | secret?no high place nor lowly place ' ; where thou couldst have escaped me? save on this very scaffold!" | "Thanks bo to him who hath led me hither!" answered the minister. Yet he trembled and turned to Hester with an expression of doubt and anxiety i in his eyes, not tho less evidently be- ' trayed that there was a feeble smile uj>on his lips, i "Is not this better," murmured he, ! "than what we dreamed of in the for- i 1 est?" "I know not! I know not!" she hur- ! riedly replied. "Better? Yea; so we may both die, and little Pearl die with us?" "For thee and Pearl, be it as God shali order," said the minister; "and God is merciful! Let me now do the will which he hath made plain before my sight. For, Hester, I am a dying man. So let me make haste to take my shame | upon me!" Partly supported by Hester Pryne, and : holding one hand of little Pearl's, the | Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale turned to the dignified and venerable rulers; to the j holy ministers, who were his brethren; \ to the people, whose great heart was , thoroughly appalled, yet overflowing j with tearful sympathy, as knowing that some deep life matter?which, if full of sin, was full of anguish and repentance likewise?was now to be laid open to them. The sun, but little past its meridian, shone down upon the clergyman and gave a distinctness to his figure as I he stood out from all the earth to put in his plea of guilty at the bar of eternal | instice. m "People of New England!" cried he, ' with a voicflrthat rose over them, high, solemn an<fmajefltic?yet had always a tremor through it, and sometimes a shriek, struggling up out of a fathomless depth of remorse and woe?"ye?that have loved me!?ye that have deemed me holy?behold me here the one sinner of the world! At last?at last?I stand upon the spot where seven years since I .should have stood; here with this woman, whose arm, more than the little strength wherewith I have crept hitherward, sustains me at this dreadful moment from groveling down upon my face! Lo, the scarlet letter which Hester wears! Ye have all shuddered at it! Wherever her walk hath been?wherever, so miserably burdened, she may have hoped to find repose?it hath cast a lurid gleam of awe and horrible repugnance around about her. But there stood one in the midst of you at whose brand of sin and infamy ye have not shuddered!" It seemed at this point as if the minister must leave the remainder of his secret undisclosed. But he fought back the bodily weakness?and, still more, the faintness of heart?that was striving for the mastery with him. He threw off all assistance and stepped passionately forward a pace before the woman and ! the child. "It was on him!" he continued, with a kind of fierceness, so determined was he : to speak out the whole. "God's eye be- I held it! The angels were forever pointing at it! The devil knew it well and | fretted it continually witn tne toucn or , his burning finger! But he hid it cun- , ningly from men and walked among you I with the mien of a spirit, mournful be- I cause so pure in a sinful world and sad because he missed his heavenly kindred! Now, at the death hour, he stands up before you! He bids you look again at Hester's scarlet letter! He tells you that, with all its mysterious horror, it is but the shadow of what he bears on his own breast, and that even this, his own red stigma, is no more than the type of what has seared his inmost heart! Stand any here that question God's judgment on a sinner? Behold! Behold i a dreadful witness of it!" With a convulsive motion he tore away the ministerial band from before his breast. It was revealed! But it were irreverent to describe that revelation. For an instant the gaze of the horror stricken multitude was concentrated on the ghastly miracle; while the minister stood, with a flush of triumph in his face, as one who in the crisis of acutest pain had won a victory. Then down he sank upon the scaffold! Hester partly raised him and supported his head against her bosom. Old Roger Chillingworth knelt down beside her, with a blank, dull countenance, out of which the life seemed to have departed. "Thou hast escaped me!" he repeated more than once. "Thou hast escaped me!" "May God forgive thee!" said the minister. "Thou, too, hast deeply sinned." He withdrew his dying eyes from the old man and fixed them on the woman and the child. "My little Pearl," said he feebly?and there was a sweet and gentle smile over his face, as of a spirit sinking into deep repose; nay, now that the burden was removed. it seemed almost as if he would be sportive with the child?"dear little Pearl, wilt thou kiss me now? Thou wouldst not yonder in the forest! But now thou wilt?" Pearl kissed his lips. A spell was broken. The great scene of grief, in which the wild infant bore a part, had developed all her sympathies; and as her tears fell upon her father's cheek, they were the pledge that she would grow up amid human joy and sorrow, nor forever do battle with the world, but be a woman in it. Toward her mother, too, Pearl's errand as a messenger of anguish was all fulfilled. "Hester," said the clergyman, "farewelll" "Shall we not meet again?" whispered she, bending her face down close to his. "Shall we not spend our immortal life together? Surely, surely, we have ransomed each other, with all this woe! Thou look est far into eternity with those bright, dying eyes! Then tell me what thou seest?" ' "Hush, Hester, hush!" said he with tremulous solemnity. "The law we broke?the sin here so awfully revealed ?let these alone be in thy thoughts! I fear, I fear! It may be that when we forgot our God?when we violated our reverence each for the other's soul?it was thenceforth vain to hope that we could meet hereafter in an everlasting and pure reunion. God knows, and he is merciful. He hath proved his mercy most of all in my afflictions. By giving me this burning torture to bear upon my breast! By sending yonder dark and terrible old man to keep the torture always at red heat! By bringing me hither to die this death of triumphant ignominy before the people! Had either of these agonies been wanting, I had l>een lost forever! Praised be his name! His will be done! Farewell!" That final word came forth with the minister's expiring breath. The multitude, silent till then, broke out in a strange, deep voice of awe and wonder, which could not as yet find utterance, save in this murmur that rolled so heavily after the departed spirit. [TO UK CONCI.UOKI) NKXT WKKK.] Till-: Biiicht Sink.?Book on the bright side. It is the right side. The times may be hard, but it will make them no easier to wear a gloomy and sad countenance. It is the sunshine and not the cloud that makes the flower. The sky is blue ten times when it is black once. You have troubles; so have others. None are free from them. Trouble gives sinew and tone to life?fortune and courage to men. That would be a dull sea, and the sailor would never get skill where there was nothing to disturb t Iwillirl, iliesuriacL'oi mcumiu. ?? u?tr.. things look a little dark, the lane will turn, and night will end in a broad day. There is more virtue in one sunbeam than in a whole hemisphere of elouds and gloom. See how the mist flies before the brightness of one little darting ray. So will trouble disappear before the ever-eheerful. You Can Ykkify This.?"The thumb is an unerring index to the mind,*' said a professional manicure yesterday. ,:If a person is trying to deceive you he will invariably draw his thumb in toward the palm. On the other hand, if telling the truth, the thumb will he relaxed and point away from from tin- palm.''?Buffalo i Courier. pijwUanmts Stalling. HE COULD NOT HELP IT. CAPT. KING, THE BRAVE SOLDIER WHO WAS FORCED TO BE A NOVELIST. Hid Interentlng Life and How Hi* Stories Made Him Famous?How He Looks, Dresses and Works?The Romance of His Life. [Copyright by American Press Association.] The story of Capt. Charles King's eventful life reads more like a work of romantic fiction than a plain statement of every day facts. Capt. King's name has become as familiar as a household word to readers of serial and magazine literature the past few years, aud he is today one of the best known and most widely read authors in America. The demand for his stories is so great that no less than six novels are now being printed in as many magazines and syndicates, besides several other important new works, and he has enough orders ahead to keep him busy every hour of the day for the next two years. Capfc'King has beso. WHUf skis if uf love and war steadily for the past six or eight years, and in that time he has turned out an incredibly large number of novels, and what is still more remarkable, they are all good ones. Capt. King is a soldier by instinct and profession, a born ruler of men, but the receipt of a savage bullet and the appearance of one or two military stories from his pen combined to force him, somewhat reluctantly, into the field of literature. The demand for hisstories gradually became so great that he has been compelled to abandon everything else and become a professional novelist. Capt. Charles King is a resident of Milwaukee. He lives in a pretty little home on Prospect avenue, surrounded by his happy little family?a wife and several children. He is 46 years of age, but appears much younger. He is small of stature, light and graceful, a blonde, with blue eyes and a handsome, intelligent face. Being near sighted he constantly wears glasses. Excepting a mustache his face is clean shaven. He is fond of society, dresses faultlessly and like a true military man is erect and dignified, keen of speech and quick at repartee. When not wearing hit uniform he occasionally affects dress of a very striking kind. The portrait herewith given shows him in a suit of spotless white cloth in which he occasionally appears dur lng the summer months. CAPT. KING, ADTliOB OF "TWO^SOLDIERS." Cnpt. King first tried his prentice band at writing when a subaltern of artillery, just after the war, but not with pecuniary success, if any other. He found publishers, but no pay. In 1872, whilo on reconstruction duty in tho south, he began "Kitty's Conquest," and tried several publishers with it. Xo one wanted it, and he pitched the MSS. into a trunk and went out to i'l'inn ts> inin the Fifth cavalry for the Apache campaign. For six years he and his regiment were in one Indian war after another, and scouting all over the continent, from the Missouri to the Colorado. It was while recovering from a severe wound that he began sketches of Indian campaigning, and they led to demands for more. I The Lippincotts read his "Colonel's i Daughter" as it was being published as a j serial in an army magazine that could i hardly afford to pay for the paper it was printed on. They instantly offered to pub| Iish it in book form and pay him royalty | and take anything else ho had, including "Kitty." | "The Colonel's Daughter" is selling yet, and so is its sequel, "Marion's Faith," ! while "The Deserter" and "From the | Hanks" and his several later complete novels have exceeded all the publishers' ex! pectations, and astonished nobody more ' than the author himself. His largest work ?and considered by professional critics his best ? is "The Famous Battles of the World," an 800 page volume, published in Philadelphia, but he has written several short stories and sketches for Lippincotts, ' Harpers and others, and for the next year j or two, I am told by the captain himself, i he can accept no more offers, for all that J he can possibly write is bespoken. In answer to a question as to his method I of work Capt. King said that there had | been only three months a year until 1887 ; that he could give to writing. The naI tional guard is a thing in which he is ; deeply interested, and he has given It a I great deal of time. When he does write it j is generally for several hours at a stretch ! ?from 8 or 9 in the morning until 1, or | sometimes 2. He writes rapidly, and yet i hates to revise and correct; but no one ever sees his work, good or bod, until it is opened in the publisher's office. Every; thing he has written since 1882 and much I that he wrote before has found its market. Capt. King wae born in Albany, N. Y., ! Oct. 12, 1844, and comes of a family distinI guished in literature and politics. His fa' ther was for several years United States i minister to Iiome, and during the war bej came brigadier general of volunteers. His grandfather, Charles King, LL. D., wus once president of Columbia college, and ! Ids great-grandfuther, Gen. Rnfus King, i was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence and twice minister to Eugj land. On his mother's side he is a direct , descendant of John Eliot, the Indian apos| tie. In 184.1 Rufus King went to Milwau kee and became editor of The Sentinel, re' aidinor thero continuously until his appoint I ment to Rome. In 1858 Charles King was i sent to Columbia college, where he remained until 1861. Within a few hours at! ter Fort Sumter had been flred upon young King turned up In the camp of the Wisconsin volunteers at Washington, with drum j sticks in hand. At 16 years of age he saw I his first soldiering in Virginia. He wai ; guide for Gen. W. S. Hancock when h< ; first crossed the Potomac at the head oi his brigade. In 1862 King was appointee | a cadet at West Point by President Liu ; coin, and he graduated No. 2,186, undnum j ber ii in a class of 46. After graduating al ; West Point ho was kept there for som< j time as military instructor?a high compli j ment to a subaltern officer, i From 1806 to 1800 Capt". King served ii 1 the regular army as a cavalry officer, sta i tioned at New Orleans. Then ho was or ; dered to West Point as instructor in cav airy tactics. Ho was relieved from duty ii ! 1871 to accept a stall position. From 187: , to 1874 ho was confidential aid on the staf of MaJ. Gen. W. H. Emory, with statloi ! at Now Orleans. There was a romantli ! turn to Capt. King's life about this time i It will be remembered that there was i j good deal of excitement over an Interna tional race of gentlemen riders on the olt j Metulro truck at New Orleans in April ' 1872. England, Ireland, Frauce and Aub trla were represented, but there was n< ; one to ride for tho United States. At th< j last minute Capt. King entered the con | test, and the race was a notable one. Dis ' tluguished people from all over the couu ; try were preseut. The flower and beaut; I of tho south turned out, and tho gram ! stand at the Jockey club on that partial i lar day was a scene of bewildering beaut; ! and chivalry. The raco was a magniflceu j one, and to the surprise and delight o ! every one King won it by two lengths. After the huzzuhs of congratulation ka< i subsided the victor wus presented with , gold whip, which he took across the truel and laid in the lap of a young lady win ; had accompanied Gen. and Mrs. Emory She has tho whip yet, and it is suspended ' from a ribbon over the parlor mnntol ii I Capt. King's cozy home. They were mat ; rial a few months after the stirring iuel ! dent. After going through tho recon struction {icriod in the south our her i asked to be relieved from staff duty to joii i his troop, K, Fifth cavalry. In the Apaeh j campaign in Arizona, in 1874, King sav brilliant service. The troop of which h was In command became conspicuous. Gen. Sherman publicly stated that he con- 8 Bldered their services "unequaled by those c of any cavalry regiment." On Nov. 1, s 1874, King was severely wounded at Sunset ? pass. He was then only saved from falling * into the hands of the bloodthirsty savages e by the valorous devotion of one of his sol- c diers. : a For mouths the Intrepid commander was } laid up with a shattered saber arm. Almost before it was well he was in the sad- , j die again and went through the terrible r i Big Horn and Yellowstone campaigns. His J' ! service was brilliant, his bravery matchless, v ; and his coolness in the beat of many of the ? j most terrible battles ever fought with the s i Indians won him unstinted praise from his ? I superiors. In 1878 King's wound, which r : had never healed, became so troublesome that he was forced to go before a retiring. : board. The next year he left the army that he loved so well and became a shelved I warrior?full of scars and glory before he a bad reached one-half of man's three-scoreand-ten years. And thus it was that the soldier became an author. After his retirement he held several important civil and A military commissions, and became identi I nea prominently wun me national guaru, ! in which he is still very mach interested In Capt. King's study, where he writes ? , his stories, there is the veritable Mrvajo s blanket in which his soldiers bundled or & c&ftled him down the mountain side after c receiving bis wound at Sunset pass. There, too, can be seen the pictures in uniforms of many of the heroes of his stories. : Shoulder straps, sword belts, forage cap and buckskin leggings are suspended from i the walls. There are a thousand and one | other curious things picked up by the cap; tain during his army life. On the wall Is ! a fine portrait of Gen. Rufus King, and j near by is the magnificent presentation | sword owned by the soldier writer's distinI guisbed father. Altogether it is a home of refinement and taste. Capt. King and the I lady who won the Metatre whip have three j children, and there is a Charles King, Jr., | who is a living picture of the father and a ! perfect soldier in miniature. G. H. Yejtowine. [Next week we will begin the publication of Captain Charles King's latest and best story, "A Soldier's Secret," a delightful tale of army ltfe told in this popular author's happiest manner. Be I sure to read the opening chapters.] BEN THOMPSON. A Notorious Texas Desperado. The most notable Englishman who ever came to Texas was Ben Thompson. But he arrived there at so early an age and became so thoroughly Wesf! era in his mode of life, that Texans j claimed him as their own. I imagine, however, he always retained some of the traditions of his birthplace, as there is a story of his standing with his hat j off to talk to an English nobleman when Thompson was the most feared and best known man in all Texas. The stories of his recklessness and ignor i ance of fear and utter disregard of others' lives as well as his own, are ! innumerable. A few of them are interesting and worth keeping, as they show the typical bad man of the high1 ?X J est uegree in uis uiucicui uuuiuia, <*uu ; also as I have not dared to say ! as much about bud men as I should have liked to do, writes Richard Harding Davis, in Harper's Weekly. Thompson killed eighteen men in differi ent parts of Texas, and was for this made | marshal of Austin, on the principle ' that if he must kill somebody, it was better to give him authority to kill other desperadoes than reputable citizens. As marshal it was his pleasure to pull up his buggy across the railroad track just as the daily express train was about to start, and covering the engineer with his revolver, bid him hold the train until he was ready to move on. He would then call some trembling acquaintance from the crowd on the platform, and talk with him leisurely until he thought he had successfully awed the engineer and established bis authority. Then he would pick up his reins and drive on, saying to the engineer, "You needn't think, sir, any corporation can hurry me." The position of the unfortunate | man to whom he talked must have | been most trying?with a locomotive i on one side and. a revolver on the j other. One day a cowboy, who was a well' known bully and a would-be desperado, shot several bullet-holes through j the high hat of an Eastern traveler, ' i who was standing at the bar of an ] Austin hotel. Thompson heard of this, ] I 3 n Kir*V? V?of ontorAil I UllU JJUICUMIII^ a uigu uuv, vu, i the bar room. i | "I hear," he said, facing the cowboy, ] "that you are shooting plug hats here j I today ; perhaps you would like to take 1 a shot at mine." He then raised his revolver and shot away the cowboy's < l ear. "I meant he said, "to bit your i ; ear; did I do it ?" The bully showed i ! proof that he had. "Well, then," said the marshal, "get out of here;" and ! catching the man by the cartridge-belt, 1 he threw him out into the street, and so put an end to his reputation as a < I desperate character forever. Thompson was naturally unpopular with a certain class in the community. | Two barkeepers who had a personal j , grudge against him, with no doubt ' excellent reason, lay in ambush for him behiiml the two bars of the saloon which stretcned along either wall. Thompson entered the room from the street, in ignorance of any plot against him until the two men halted him with shot-guns. They had him so surely at their pleasure that he made no effort ! to reach his revolver, but stood look < ing from one to the other and smiling j ' grimly. But his reputation was so i . ' great, and their fear of him so actual, j i j that both men missed him, although i not twenty feet away, and with shot ! 1 guns in their hands. Then Thompson j took out his pistol deliberately and killed them, j A few years ago he became involved > in San Antonio with "Jack" Harris, the ; keeper of a gambling-house and variety ! theatre. Harris lay in wait for Thomp- ' son behind the swinging doors of his j 1 saloon; but Thompson, as he crossed ; the Military Plaza, was warned of i | i Harris's hiding-place and shot him 1 1 i through the door. He was tried for ! l | the murder, and acquitted on the ground of self-defense, and on his re- j > turn to Austin he was met at the staJ ' tion by a brass band and all the fire- i i companies. Perhaps inspired by this, ! lie returned to San Antonio, and going ; ' to Harris's theatre, then in the hands ; of his partner, Joe Foster, called from } the gallery for Foster to come up and ! speak to him. Thompson had with ! him a desperado named King Fisher, ! 1 | and against him every man of his 1 I class in >5an Antonio, for Harris had ; : been very popular. Foster sent his J j I assistant, a very young man named \ I Bill Sims, to ask Thompson to leave f | the place, as he did not want trouble. i ; "I have come to have a reconcili' tion," said Thompson. "I want to shake hands with my old friend Joe 1 Foster. Tell him I won't leave till I j see him, and I won't make a row." ; Sims returned with Foster, and ! . Thompson held out his hand. -? "Joe." he said. "I have come all the u way from Austin to shake hands with * you. Let's make up and call it oil'." "I can't shake hands with you, Ben,'' j '' Foster said. "You killed my partner, i j and you know well enough I am not ' . the sort to forget it. Now go, won't yr ; you ? and don't make trouble." t i Thompson said he would leave in a | 1 minute, but they must drink together | lirst. There was a bar in the gallery, which was by this time packed with I, i men who had learned of Thompson's I u presence in the theatre, but Fisher and Thompson stood quite alone bei side the bar. The Marshal of Austin " looked up and saw Foster's glass un'" touched before him, and said : "Aren't you drinking with me, Joe ?" 1 Foster shook his head. tl "Well, then," cried Thompson, "the u man who won't drink with me, nor ; v , shake hands with me, lights me." j o He reached back for his pistol, and ome one?a jury of twelve intelligent itizeu decided" it was not young Bill Sims?shot him three times in the forelead. They say you could have covrd the three bullet holes with a halflollar. But so great was the desperate courage of this ruffian that even as te fell he fired, holding his revolver ct his hip, killing Foster; and then, as te lay on his back, with every nerve erking^in agony, he emptied his rerolver into the floor, ripping great ;ashes in the boards about him. And o he died, as be would have elected o die, with his boots on, and with the eport of his pistol the last sound to inor in his ears. King Fisher was ailed at the same moment, and The Dxprees spoke of it the next morning e "a good night's work." VULCAN IN PETTICOATS. L Ban Francisco Girl Opens a New. Field for Her Sex.. An iron piano lamp in the form of a ;racefully tapering hammer-worked haft, supported on a tripod of claws ind expanding at the top into an urn >f ironwork, is evidence that Miss Bay leveridge of this city is a blacksmith, hough probably the only feminine' ixponent of the trade extant, says the lan Francisco Examiner. Miss Beveridgie, though but in ber eens, has developed much of the mantal dexterity which seems to be a ;haracteristic of the Beveridge family, ind which in her sister, Kuhne, took he direction of modeling in clay. Hiss Ray's fondness for hammering ind tinkering was so manifest that ome months ago she matriculated at be Cogswell Polytechnic School, and iaa since pursued her studies apd iractice in smithwork under Matthews, he instructor in blacksmithing at the1 ichool. Her knowledge is more than asmat-' ering, and on lesson days Miss Beverdge prepares herself for her work in a vay that shows her enthusiasm. Old K>ots that cannot be harmed by the lust and grit of a fbrgeroom are worn. Shirts of no value but for such uses :lothe her, and when she appeared in be smithy, with sleeves rolled up and inns bared like those of any other )lacksmith, there is no suggestion of iaintiness or unfitness for the labor in land. ' Instructor Matthews is proud of his inique pupil, and has taken pains to >erfect her in all the details of metal vorking. Miss Beveridge breaks up ler coal, starts ber forge-fire in regur ation style, blows it into welding beat, md sets about the special work iu hand juite as heartily as any of the boys In he school. Her strength is not suficient to enable her to do heavy weldng, and when that is necessary the nstructor lends a hand ; but in the orlinary manipulations she prides herlelf on being quite independent, and ler work is both neatly and artistically lone. She has given especial study :o the making of brackets, stands of va ious sorts and other light forging, and oelieves that a new direction for the mergies of women has been discovered. Miss Beveridge is arranging to set jp a blacksmith shop of her awn in the city, and will endeavor to induce ladies of her acquaintance to join her in founding a school of design in ornamental iron work for women. That Beld has heretofore been filled by men, but it is believed by Miss Beveridge that women can easily supplant them by reason of delicacy of design and a greater knowledge of the possibilities in the way of house orn&meutation. Miss Beveridge intends to continue her study at the Cogswell school until she has mastered her art and can be graduated as a competent blacksmith, THAT OLTPARASOL. Don't throw it away; the frame is just as good as new, and a little ingenuity and a small amount of material will do wonders in making something charming out of it. Get two squares of silk mull, or, if you can't find that, a fine hernani, or almost any other really fine, handsome, thin' material. There are eight rib# to the average parasol; and two squares exactly in handkerchief shape, so placed that one point conies midway of the side of the other, will just cover the parasol. Lay these squares over the frame and attach the points very lightly. If carefully done, a pin will hold them until properly arranged. Then cut a small hole in the middle of each section; through this the tip of the Btick is to be passed, the. circle, or rim, around it having previously been removed, which is easily done by taking out the little rivet that holds it to the wood. Out of the material that comes off at the side when the squares are cut make tiny puff. Put this around the tip and put the little rim back in place. The edges of the material may be hemmed or turned in and covered by a ruffle of lace. If desired, a liuing may be put in. To do this, it is well to have a pattern taken from the cover as it originally was on the parasol. While it is considered quite an undertaking to cover a parasol nicely, it is by no means the formidable task that many people seem to think. What is required is exceeding care and neat ness and a very close attention to the minor details of the job. Once having tried the experiment, the careful needlewoman will experience but little difficulty in doing a good piece of work. A bit of crepe de Chine, crepe lisse or other material costs but little, and make a very handsome finish to any one of the score of old frames, many of them with really elegant handles, which may be found in almost any of the store-closets or wardrobes in the country, and which are as a general thing, thrown aside as absolutely worthless. Fine work is, by no means, a monopoly ; and while there is a certain handling which may lie called "style," in the putting up of these goods, the neatness which is required to do a lirst-class job may be acquired by almost anybody. A trimming of lace, plaiting, ruching and puffing, indeed, garniture of any sort which is made of material, can readily lie arranged by auy lady of ingenuity; and as there is in many families a greater amount of good taste and wit than money, it is well for the 1 ^ MnnltfO Iv?t wives and uuugiin-m iu ....... they can, with but trifling cost, supply themselves, not only with parasols, but with many other beautiful things. Chemistry ok a Tear.?A tear from the representative of the Caucasian races, is found to be composed of water, snlt, soda, phosphate of lime, phosphate of soda and mucus. From the eyes of an African the elements composing the tear are found to be the same as the above, with the single exception of the phosphate of soda, and with the addition of a slight traee of ammonia. The Kskimosand the fishing Finns seldom shed tears, but when they do chemists say they are exceedingly salty. The chemical elements in the Caucasian tear arrange themselves into particles that look like fish bones; those from a negro's tear form a rude cross, while the same process of evaporation leaves the chemicals in an Eskimo's tear in the shape of a bow. The estate ot 10,000 acres on which Mr. (Jeorge Vandeabilt is erecting a baronial castle in North Carolina represents 40 farms, which were bought up from the mountaineers at a total cost of fully $000,000. fto?" Let not every pain send thee to the doctor, every quarrel for the lawyer. nor every thirst to the dram shop.